The BeastIt was raining heavily that night. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the icy droplets stinging my face and neck, the wetness coming down in diagonal sheets. Relentless. I guess you could say it was relentless. Not that I paid much attention to something as trivial as a rainstorm.The Beast by AmyIsAWriter
The trees seemed massive then, towering pines that, bizarrely, did little to shelter the soft dirt ground. I was staring at the Beast, not caring that the rain plastered my fair hair to my scalp or that it ran down my neck like a tiny waterfall. The Beast was huge. It was easily the size of a small car, which is big enough for a beast of any kind, thank you very much. It seemed to be some grotesque mixture of cat and bear, but it had a reptilian quality about it, like the tongue that flicked out of its jaws and coated its snout with a thin layer of slime. A leathery whip of a tail waved lazily, but twitched every so often, as a cat’s does when it’s stalking a bird.
And oh God, the eyes. Piercing
Epilogue: APRILI'm kneeling by Liz's grave, waiting for the last stragglers to disperse. My skirt is now damp from the rainwater leftover from last night's downpour, but I am way past caring.Epilogue: APRIL by AmyIsAWriter
Liz's parents are long gone. Her mother, Tiff, was a wreck, her normally brisk persona giving way to pure emotion. When Liz's coffin was lowered into the ground, Tiff had screamed something unintelligible about "her baby" and had to be held back by her husband until her screams subsided into sobs.
Her father, whom Liz had so often complained about, gave a speech I would have thought him incapable of making. He's usually so... so quiet. So strict. But even he had tears in his eyes as his daughter was laid to rest in a hole in the ground.
Finally, all the mourners leave and I am alone. I don't move for a moment, but then I hesitantly place my hand on the freezing marble of the tombstone. I don't speak. I can't. Suddenly, all my memories with Liz, most of my life, flash through my mind at the speed of light: our me
Hold on till May: MARCHWe’re in the Tree again. We’ve been here every day since Liz told me what’s been going on with her, just talking. Well, she talks, I listen. Sometimes she cries. But she hasn’t been cutting as much. She shows me her arms and tummy, and I can’t help but feel sort of satisfied that I’m helping.Hold on till May: MARCH by AmyIsAWriter
“It’s like they’re strangers.” Her parents are a popular topic of conversation. “I know they were teenagers once and all but they’re not any more. They don’t understand that exams suck and boys need to not be so wonderful yet toxic and how much people suck.” She leans her head against the trunk of the Tree and sighs.
“Do they have any idea how much it hurts you?” I ask. “Or are they oblivious?” She doesn’t say anything, but her look says it all. “Stupid question. Sorry, continue.” Liz shakes her head.
“Not yet. Tell me all about Karl.” I can sense she wants to t
Hold on till May: February“… After me now, je faire…”Hold on till May: February by AmyIsAWriter
It’s Tuesday and the class are monotonously repeating the French verb. Liz and I sit together, me in my element, her doodling on my file. “Clare smells”. I chuckle before adding “like roses” in my own messy script.
“Miss Hall?” Our teacher, Mr Lennon, is glaring at me. “I hope that it’s my subject you find so amusing?” I jump and drop my pen on to the floor with a clatter.
“Sorry, sir.” I mumble and try to look interested in the exercise in the textbook in front of me. Liz snickers softly but nudges me gently by way of apology. After class, we head for the canteen and sit in our usual spot by the door. Ten minutes of quiet chewing later, Liz puts down her barely-touched sandwich and quietly says my name. I look up with a “mm?” and a mouthful of food, so I giggle before I notice her expression.
“Clare, I can trust you, right?” She’s