Thursday, March 21

Whispers

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Whisper:

to speak with soft, hushed sounds, using the breath, lips, etc., but       with no vibration of the vocal cords.

She ran out of the house seeking a place of refuge, somewhere she could feel at home for as long as she was out of her home. Home? That word sounded really strange to her ears. She wasn’t at home, she only lived in a house where she was a prisoner. Prisoner to her father’s incessant abuse which was why she was out on the street in the dark night all by herself in the first place.

She needed to put an end to her sufferings; it was way too much for her fourteen years old mind to put up with. Her father’s constant footsteps down the hallway and all through to her bedroom door shattered all that was left of her pride and dignity every single day and as of now, she had none left.

She felt defenseless, scared, used, worst of all, she felt like nobody. This was exactly how her father wanted her to feel. She could see the spite on his face each time he came into her room, her expression blank as he released his guilty pleasures in her. He wanted her broken and it hurts his feelings to see he has not been able to achieve that. If only he knew he was always one step to his goals every passing night he came into her room.

Now that her wall of defense has been broken completely, she wasn’t going to give him that luxury of seeing his victory. She had gone out in search of help; although she had no idea where she was headed, something kept pulling her towards Maines Street. She quietly followed till she got to the foot of a tree; on it was the inscription ‘when you hear the whispers of the dark night, you know the time has come’.

Within the twinkling of an eye, she felt herself travel to and fro another world. She knew she should be scared; but fear wasn’t what she felt. She walked back home confident, fearless and with a deep hunger for revenge..

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About Author

I’m Alara Karis, a writer and blogger who simply loves living each day at a time. Some call me a nerd, some call me a professor. But if you ask me, I’ll simply say I’m an artist who enjoys painting the world in words.

5 Comments

  1. Pingback: Whispers (2) - ALARA KARIS BLOG

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