Chapter 1 - Fright Fair Project

Story for Creative Writing
It was an understatement to say that the state we chose to live in was a poor state. The terror of death was constantly upon us even in times of peace. To be trapped in this hellish state until we should choose to escape it (the only way out was to retreat to our graves). Most humans will never know the pain it is to be one of us. No one could ever understand out suffering. It wasn’t living through most injuries that was the most painful, no, it was the pain of our skin stretching across our faces when we grew that we couldn’t stand. You may ask yourself what we were born with that caused this ghastly disease to spread but you would not get an answer. Life was not always this hard for us. Once we were beautiful people who were revered in our community. So you will ask how we came to be in this state we are in now and we would tell you.
At our school my sister, Resha, and I were the envy of the town. We both had the golden hair and sparkling sapphire eyes that every child dreamed of and we had a wealth to match it. I was rightfully nicknamed, Angel, by my class mates. Our parents, by far, were the wealthiest people in town and they owned the biggest house. We had everything that a child could wish for. The name, Fairchild, which was our name, was known far and wide to many people. I guess it was just bad luck that it would not last forever.
It happened one day when we were walking home from school. It was late and the sun was only emitting a little bit of light which made an eerie glow behind the hills. We didn’t see the man approach and it was too late to run when we did see him. Without a word he seized my sister by the neck and stabbed her in the heart. He stabbed her in just the right place so she would die instantly with no pain. Then he turned to me. I was frozen in place. I couldn’t run or scream for help. All I could do was stand there.
“She will be fine,” he said trying to calm me.
“She’s dead!” I exclaimed starting to back away.
“Yes, but she will be fine.”
“How can you say that she will be fine? She is dead! She can’t be fine!”
“You will meet the same fate.” He slowly lifted his hand and pointed two of my fingers toward my right arm.
I looked down at the black ring that encircled my arm at my elbow. “What do you mean?”
“You have to save the pain.”
“What?!”
“You will be fine.”
“You mean I’m going to die?!”
“You will be fine.”
Tears fell from my eyes as I finally called for help. He fled quickly and was gone before anyone arrived to help. They took Resha back to our house and left her in her room. I ran to my father and told him everything that had happened that night. He didn’t seem surprised, nor did he seem upset about Resha’s death. In fact, he was overjoyed to hear of it. He was even happier to hear that I would share her fate. That scared me greatly. Our father loved us and he would not be so happy about such things if our dooms were sealed. There had to be more to this, something that I didn’t see.
After that strange occurrence I pondered the thought of rebirth. I considered the thought that I could possibly come back to life. I thought that pain could possibly be the key to it. The man had said to save the pain and I was starting to understand. Could he have saved Resha? The thought constantly remained in the back of my mind, but I didn’t accept it as the truth. Resha was still dead and there were no signs of life coming from her room, at least none that I could see.
My father must have been thinking the same thoughts as I was because he made sure that Resha had no funeral. In fact, he didn’t even have her buried. He left her to rot in her bedroom. What his motives were for doing this, I did not know, but I would try to find out. My father’s odd behavior, however, was not the only thing that bothered me. I was extremely bothered by the fact that there was a dead corpse in my sister’s room. Every time I walked by that room a chill went down my spine and a feeling of dread and despair filled my soul. I was being tortured in my own home, and I couldn’t get away. I didn’t know what to do because I knew that nobody would do anything about it.
After about a week of torture, it finally ended, but it did not end in a particularly graceful fashion. I was home alone when it happened. The blood curdling scream of a thousand mortified teenage girls filled the house and echoed off the walls for what seemed like hours. The same dread and despair that I felt when I passed Resha’s room filled my soul again at that moment. Not thinking about the consequences, I ran to that very room as fast as my legs could carry me. The door was still closed and I was too terrified to open it. Then, somehow, the door slowly began to open itself. It opened so wide that it nearly fell off its hinges. I could see nothing but darkness inside the room. It was as if a dark curtain had enveloped the room so that no eyes could bear witness to its transformation.
I was halfway down the hallway when I heard the door slam against the wall. Stiff as a brick, I turned to see that the gaunt, gray hand of a corpse had curled its fingers around the frame of the door. My feet were nailed to the floor, and I was trapped in my position, not able to tear my eyes away from the hand that lingered in the threshold, so still that you would think it only a statue. Suddenly, I could see the clearly defined veins on the hand flexing themselves as if it were lifting a heavy load. Another hand appeared on the other side of the door’s frame, just as gaunt and gray as the other. Then things began to move faster. Both of the hands began to flex their veins so hard that I thought one of them was in danger of popping. What seemed like a head came out next. If it was in fact a head, it was looking down. Long strands of midnight black hair hung off of the sides, covering the face completely. The hair did not allow any skin to be shown, save for the ears which were filled with mold and rotting ear wax. This person, creature, or whatever it was, was shaking violently as if tired from the work of attempting to exit my sister’s room.
Things moved even faster and time was finally back to normal speed. Two feet, whose nails were in great need of clipping and cleaning, slid their way out of the room and the form of a body stumbled out of the room. In terms of clothing, the body was wearing a long robe which was stained with dried blood. This was indeed a person, whom I believed to be female, but I had no idea who. As she stumbled out of the room, she collapsed onto the hard floor and let out a loud moan.I felt kind of sorry for her then, but I still couldn't move. She crawled over to me and looked up at me. Her eyes were pitch black. I was hypnotized by her gaze until I realized that I slightly recognized her eyes.
After I recognized her eyes everything started to come back to me, and I knew who she was. I fell to the ground and began to cry. Her eyes were full of worry as she got up and stumbled to my side. She picked me up and, ever so carefully, carried me back to my room. I was no longer afraid because I knew the identity of the person standing before me. Her hair, eyes, and skin may have been different, but I knew that, without a doubt, this girl was someone that I knew very well.
"Resha, you're alive!" I cried quite pathetically.
"Yes, my brother, I am alive. I don't know how or why, but I am here," she said in a confused voice.
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I, I have so many questions that, I fear, no one can answer. What exactly are we? Who is responsible for this madness? Will the same thing happen if the rest of us die? How long will this last?"
"The man that killed you implied that the same thing would happen to me."
"Don't be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise."
I didn't have the heart to tell her that my death would happen weather someone was protecting me or not. I couldn't just tell her there was nothing she could do after she looked at me like that. I would have to find some way to tell her. I didn't have time to say anything to her before my father came home. He was overjoyed to see her alive and well again. He didn't seem a bit surprised by the way she looked or that she was alive. This confused me greatly. Then, one of the questions that Resha had asked popped into my mind. What are we? Was there something about us that was different than everyone else? I decided that I would try to find out.
* * * *
I had no time to tell Resha that she couldn't protect me from my fate. She was unable to keep her promise. For reasons none of us could understand she was kidnapped by entities who's existance had long been questioned. I had no comprehention of why she was, as they put it, no longer fit to walk amoung the members of our family. I was heartbroken by this incident. I loved my sister with all my heart and hated to see her go. Unfortunately, I had no time to mourn my sister's departure. More strange and confusing things were about to happen to me.
The day after my sister was taken I woke up feeling sick and heavy. The muscles in my right arm felt loose and weak. I could barely get out of bed. One of my other sisters, Alex, watched me stumble around all morning. She knew something was wrong, and she worried about me. At the point when she could take no more of it, she sent me straight back to bed. By the time I was back in my bed I was running a feaver. According to Alex, it was an extremely high feaver. She stayed by my side the whole time and when she settled down I tried to talk to her.
"Alex, I think I am going to die," I said weakly.
"What?! How is this happening? You haven't even been sick before today!" She exclaimed frantically.
"This was forseen long before today."
"What do you mean by that?"
"It started the day I ws born. My death is imminent now."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I'm reffering to my bad arm. It was always meant to be my demise."
Alex looked down at my arm and gasped. A small cut had formed directly on the black ring that stretched around the middle of my arm. Blood was slowly seeping out of the cut, and I knew that soon it would start coming out faster. Alex was confused by the cut on my arm, but I realized that it had made itself. I knew what I had to do, but I was afraid to do it. I knew what the man who murdered Resha was trying to tell me. I needed to find a way to stop the pain or I would not come back. I was still afraid to die, and I had to explain this all to Alex.
"Alex...I have to stop the pain or...I won't come back," I stuttered.
"Stop talking like you're going to die!" she cried in disbelief.
"It would be a lie to say that I am not going to die, but it would also be a lie to say that I will not be fine."
"That doesn't make any sense!"
"It will make sense in time. If you do not want to see me die now, you should leave."
"Alright, I understand. I'll come back in about a half an hour to reattach your arm."
"It won't take that long."
Alex looked at me with the same worried eyes taht I saw in Resha on the day she died. She looked down at my arm and kissed the cut that was bleeding faster every second. Then she kissed me on the cheek and wiped the blood from her lips. She pushed my bangs away from my sweaty brow and dried my tears. (Which is strange because I don't remember crying) After a few more seconds she left the room and closed the door behind her.
At that point I was ready, and I knew what I needed to do. I knew that my pain and suffering would last and I would die if I let my arm slowly fall off. With that in mind, I sat up in bed and firmly grasped my wrist with the hand of my good arm. I braced myself and with one try I ripped my arm clean off, fell back onto my pillow, and lost my breath.

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