One Last Scream October 7, 2017

 

The outside world was dark as the falling sun left the vacant sky surrounding the Ravens Institute for Lost Souls. Within the old decaying brick and wooden walls, Liz sat surrounded by cold dimly lit white padded walls that had been known as home over the last three years; a time that felt so long that the term “home” now felt like a senseless thing to consider such a decrepit building. She could still sense the unwary and eerie feel as the large doors croaked open; still smell the stale earthly scent of the potato sack that had been placed over her head, and she could still hear the faint cries from all those who had been forgotten by the world outside of this small- seemingly vacant-area.

Stumbling out from the van which time has seemed to have stalled itself during the duration of the drive, the mixture of gravel and leaves crunched together under every step beneath her uncovered and sore feet; her breath seemed to linger under the sack on her head.

The straight jacket that contained her arms left her with no other identity other than that of someone diagnosed as mentally insane; a title only awarded towards her because Liz had, on several occasions, preached about talking to those caught between dimensions. So, her only friend seemed to now be the spirit of a young boy named ‘Friday’-and the only reason he was stuck in this void of an institution was because he was one of the victims of the doctors’ cruel tests. He was known to the institution as “Subject H2”; the boy they tried shock therapy on for the first, and last time. The doctor’s obviously weren’t experts in the area.

“Friday,” Liz asked into the still air of her padded cell “do you know your way around this place?” She knew he was there, somewhere in the room, she could sense him because that is just what necromancers do. They sense the dead. Or raise it.

“Depends on what you’re looking for. Fifteen years of wandering aimlessly through these walls you learn a thing or two.” Fridays’ grim but young voice sounded through the air as he took a seat in front of me with his legs crossed before him.

I thought for a moment, “How old were you again Friday?”

“The old age of seventeen. Three days before my eighteenth birthday. When they took me I was sure I was going to Hogwarts and had just missed receiving my letter.” He had said the last part with a small chuckle. “But that is beside the main topic of conversation. What are you looking for?”

“Well,” she thought “I am looking for an out”. The worry that had clouded her since she had first met Friday, among the few other that had passed her by throughout the years, terrified when they realized that she could see them. Terrified of her powers. “I am sixteen, if you were seventeen that means I need an out.”

A sense of unease seemed to have set around Friday, his eyebrows furrowing and she could almost see the gears and trinkets and such spinning inside his head. Liz could leave, she could grow up and start her life over. He, of course, could not because he was bound-not out of choice of course- but because traumatic events anchor the soul which was what he was. Friday was a lost and forgotten soul.

“Friday! I am serious here, I need an out. And I know that you have found all the ways.” Liz was getting impatient and the morning sun had began to rise as if the night has been lost. When the sun came up, the tests began, and when the tests began was when uncertainty rose into the air like her last breath eventually would if she didn’t leave.

Friday closed the eyes, opening them with a sad face; a fake face. “There is no way out Liz. I have searched the place top to bottom. There isn’t a way out because the only way out for people like us is death.”

And with that Liz had gotten up, blank faced and emotionless; all means to survive had seemingly been frozen within her. Her heart slowed and with a deep and finalized breath, she did the one thing that nobody here did; she screamed.

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  • Sean Ulrich : Good essay and it's a good lesson that you mentioned that when you set your mind to something it is possible
  • dallen : Good job!Remember to watch out for grammatical errors such as not capitalizing the start of sentences or "i".
  • zishen : I like the way of how you answered the question, Good Job!
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