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The trees create a blanket of shade, shielding me from the cruel sun. Leaves sprawl over the aqua canvas and create a moving painting on the grassy lawn. From my perch in the knotted maple tree, I can just barely see the Eiffel Tower, thrusting an ugly arm into the pristine sky. I regard it with distain: there was a time when I might have embraced its metal joints and prayed at its cement feet, but not anymore. I close my eyes and thank the world that there is only a blotchy darkness. The wolves have long since fled my broken mind, leaving it in shambles. However, the medicines have slowly repaired the ruined landscape, replacing bricks and righting flagpoles and planting trees.
I let my mind wander on its own, enjoying the freedom. It strolls past the gardens and the white paint of my new home and back to a darker time; a time where Jekyll and Hyde, as the voices were named, still presided over my every thought. They played a game and tossed them back and forth, ridiculing my strange ideas. I had no will of my own – I was simply a slave to be pushed around. I realize this now, but before, I lived in a terrible ignorance. It was during that time that I met him.
I was onstage, doing what I did best. Transforming those ugly little blotches and lines into crashing waves and whispering grass and laughing children. I spun my own story as my fingers danced across the ivory page. The graceful wind morphed clouds into delicate horsetails as the sun enveloped the scene. It was at that moment that the peaceful zephyr turned into a frightful gust and the horsetails were whisked away by an enormous black veil. Wolves rushed and teeth snapped and the laughing children were no more. My fingers, which had leaped and played so joyfully before, now crashed down upon the black and white expanse, striking mercilessly. Beyond a shroud of discord and chaos, I vaguely heard the audience tittering. Soon, even that sense was denied me and my senses were filled only with the distorted sound of the piano.
I remember being yanked cruelly from my hallucinations by the shout of the producer – “Elle devient folle! She’s going mad!” Shaking my head blearily, I ceased my violent playing and stretched my hand out, searching for a tear in the eerie curtain that was my mind. Like a river, light forced its way into my mind, fraying the obsidian cloth had blocked it out. Startled, I withdrew further into my despised world – I believed that I had no other choice. However, a question still tugged at a thread in my mind. Who had breached the walls of my hell?
A harsh light pushed the shadows deeper into my dim abode and finally overwhelmed it, sterilizing my head with a wave of whiteness. Confused, I unwound myself from the thick material. It clung to me and tried to grab me and pull me back into its depths. Far behind me, a wolf howled. Hyde cackled, scorning my feeble attempt at independence. But even Hyde could not have drawn me back, so strong was the force that dragged me from my universe. As I awoke from my world of delusion, I seemed to have entered another one. Towering before me was an angel – with alabaster skin and garb of the lightest cream. Glaring defiantly at it, my senses sharpened and I became aware that it was no angel; he had no wings. Pleased that he was not some messenger of God bringing his wrath down upon me, I looked upon this mere human triumphantly. He swung forward and grasped my shoulder with a firm hand. My skull seemed to crack down the middle at the human contact and I gripped my head in my hands before striking the man like a trapped animal. As we pulled at each other, I floated above the scene, surveying the action with apprehension. Our bodies twirled together like winds of a hurricane into an involuntary spiral. I clawed like one of my wolves and let out a screech that Hyde himself would have been proud of. Finally, on of the policemen stepped forward and dealt me a scathing blow to the cheek. I reeled, coughing up blood. It tasted of iron and salt. The red fluid painted my hands the color of the roses I often received. My eyes glazed over with pain, I barely comprehended the sarcastically apologetic words the policeman offered me.
My next memories are of charcoal grays and metallic smells and the clanking of chains, inside my mind and out. There was nothing to break up the monotony of the prison except the crazed rants of Jekyll and Hyde. They would argue and argue, and make my head overflow with emotion until I was afraid to open my mouth; afraid that if I did, their words would flow out uncontrolled, and I would be torn apart. Just I as I was pondering this newest demise, the non-angel returned. He was resplendent in his raven-colored suit. I wondered why I had failed to notice how glorious he was before. As I chewed on the idea, both Jekyll and Hyde shoved themselves in front of my face. I swatted the air in a futile attempt to rid myself of them. They refused to be ignored.
“Are we not enough for you? Pitiful girl, you should be grateful for what we have done! If you were smart, you would rid yourself of this despicable wretch in front of you.” For once, their voices joined in unison, creating an unavoidable tidal wave of noise. Rid myself of the wonderful man? Why would I want to do that? Jekyll and Hyde seemed to sense my lack of conviction, and pursued me in a desperate chase through the barren wasteland of my mind. Finally, I turned and faced them. I had made a choice. My quavering knees the only indicators of my anxiety, I announced that I did not need either of them anymore. I had a real person. He liberated me before, after all; and surely he meant to do the same again. Proudly, I turned my back on the duo, dumbfounded for the first time in all their years. Not even the wolves had the conviction to do more than look at me with mournful eyes.
“Where are we going?” I asked the man. My heart was pounding so hard that I feared it would break through my chest. It was my first question in many years. And I was denied even an answer. My angel simply beckoned wordlessly for me to follow him and as we walked down the hall, he made sure to always keep one pace ahead of me. I was running down the unfriendly hallways, stupefied by the man’s actions. I was concentrating so hard on not slipping back into my comfortable prison, with its opaque blanket and enthralling conversations that I had no idea where I was going. After what seemed like hours of torture, we arrived at a mansion with sprawling lawns and colorful gardens. Was this our new home? It was not to be – my last glimpse of my savior was of him driving away in his shiny black sedan, saying the first and last words I would ever hear from his perfect lips.
“I’ll be back soon.”
That is why I’m still waiting here, quietly living out my years. Even though my new mind, the one free of dark clouds, knows that he will never return, my heart still beats for him and blissfully believes that he shall rescue me once again. I weave memories into my music and turn the deafening silence of my home into the song of him. The precious few memories I still have of you swarm inside my head, a virtual plague of biblical locusts. I imagine the miraculous moment when the man will once again return in his car and steal me away from this place. Although it is not quite the same dark dungeon that trapped me in the past, this white heaven has bars none the less, invisible though they may be. I contemplate what I will say to him: “Sometimes I wish that Jekyll and Hyde still resided inside my wizened mind, to help me decide whether I love or hate you.”
Please read, it shouldn't take too long!

Accelerated English Final: Short Fiction

The topic was write a short fictional story with strong chracacter developement, a clear antagonist, figurative language, and a substancial plot.

I think I was ok on everything except the clear antagonist. And spelling and grammar. We only had 40 minutes to write it. This was 7 pages double spaced. I just wrote all the way through...and my apologies for typos and the like.


Juliette is schizophrenic, in case you didn't understand that. If you aren't familiar with the novella "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" then I'll explain further. Dr. Jekyll separates his personalities by using a potion - all his anger and hatred goes to Mr. Hyde. This was thought to be a documentation of one of the earliest known cases of bipolar disorder or multiple personality disorder. Want anymore information? [link] Schizophrenia-confused?[link]


Juliette and story(c) to :iconwaiting4wings:
Jekyll and Hyde concept (c) to: Robert Louis Stevenson
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MagicPen's avatar
omg....O_O...that was absolutely BRILLIANT!!!..i LOVE to read...i read straight through without so much as a single pause...you are truely awesome..dun say yur not because i'll get annoyed...because you are..in any case..very good..you should write a book... i'd read it lol *wow...looking at my typing compared to the way you type/write i feel like a caveman* XD lol