POISONOUS THOUGHTS

Most of my life had been planned before I was even brought into existence. By law every parent must submit a form listing out how they will raise their children. How many they will have, the schools they'll be enrolled in, religion, punishments, technological access, books they’ll read, and so on. This is required to see if they will be a worthwhile member in society or just another monster to be created. That's what you are if you don’t conform.

I wouldn’t say I have bad parents. They raised me well and are model members of the community. The beautiful housewife with a high elite husband, both are active members of our societies. And I’m their picture perfect daughter. Beautiful facial features with hazel eyes, flawless light brown curls, average height with light olive skin. A model, just like my parents.

Our neighborhood sits upon a hill looking over the forest looking as if it's straight from a magazine. Our colonial house sits on the side closest to the forest. It’s one of the biggest on the street; I could scream on one side and no one would hear me on the opposite end. It also has the perfect view of the river that divides us from the strays.

That’s what we call them. The monsters who have seceded from our lifestyle. I have always wondered how they live. Often I stand on the edge of my balcony and question the differences that divide us. Do they enjoy what they’ve become? Do they feel free? I feel my hands twitch as my curiosity takes over me. Questions swirl through my head once again as I continue to stare down at them. I almost feel … jealous.

I get startled out of my thoughts as I hear my door open. I whip around and stare at my mother who had just entered the room. “Sweetheart, are you ready for dinner? The McKinseys’ have just arrived,” says my mother. She looks me up and down as I wear a mid-length baby blue dress. I despise that color. I’ve always admired darker colors such as my mother’s long maroon dress but those are reserved for married women. Not a hair is out of place, perfect just as she is.

I say nothing and nod as I step out with my mother. As we walk to the dining hall I look at my mother. I’ve always envied her. How does she do it? How can she stand it? My hands ache as my head spirals once more. I move my focus to the McKinseys’ and their constant presence as of recent. It’s safe to assume my parents are trying to set me up with their eldest sons. The one choice I do get to make in this life is who I marry, but it seems my parents have already decided.

It’s best for them to choose anyway.

I was snapped out of thoughts as we reached the table. I am sat across from the McKinseys’ son and my mother is next to my father. We wine and dine with precise detail in everything we do. It drives me mad. My hands fare up once more and this time I can’t ignore it. With a polite cough I excuse myself from the table, breaking protocol and make my way to the garden for fresh air.

Once I reach the back I take a deep breath and begin to take off my gloves. That's when I see it. Black creeps from the center of my hands going to my fingertips and beginning to creep up my arm. No! I stare at my hands as I drop to the floor. Why couldn’t I just accept what I had? Everything was perfect! Right? Tears begin to drip out of my eyes before they turn into a black ooze, worsening the infection.

I hear the doors from the house open and my only reaction is to escape. I’ve been claimed by the monsters and there's nothing I can do but run before anyone finds me. I rush through the garden to the forest leaving a trail of black tears that follow me. I have failed. All I wanted was a choice and now I have to pay the price.

I ran for what felt like hours and collapsed once I reached the river. My dress was thrashed and my heels had broken long ago from my trek. I was shaking uncontrollably as I feared what I had turned into. With a heavy heart I looked into the river to see how I am. All I could do was sob. My hair once curling now lays straight like strings and is dark brown almost black. My face was indistinguishable as black streaked down from my eyes and my skin had turned an ugly dark green. I looked at my hands that were now pitch black with claws. I am one of them now.

Death felt merciful to the pain I felt at this moment. My wish seemed to be answered as there was rustling across the river. I looked up to see one of them. A stray. I stayed frozen as I watched them move closer to me. The closer they came the more they began to look. Human. An older man in ragged clothes stood across from me, looking at me with pity. How could he pity this creature I’ve become? He began to cross the river to me. I stumbled back in fear causing him to halt about halfway.

“You’re not alone,” he says.

We have a staring contest before he moves his hand out, as if he was asking me to hold it. He takes a breath before saying, “What’s your name? You don’t have to share if you’d like. It’s your choice.”

My choice.

I watch his hand before standing making my decision. With a shaky breath I reply, “Elizabeth.”

Taylor Ysais is an avid reader and writer. She is a native Californian and is often with friends or family on new adventures when she is not writing.