Hidden II

It took a while for anybody to notice. Richard and May were playing cards. Such a friendship they had developed in the past couple of days; they laughed easily and talked naturally. "My mother worked in his mansion you see." She told him one night. "He was recently a widower, and my father had been dead for many years; When he found this out, he sought her and asked for her advice on how to cope with the grief. Soon they fell in love and got married." 
Lilly May Williams paused for a moment, maybe going through the motions of remembering.
"My mother and I moved into the house and I was taught all that was 'correct'. His children disapproved of me at first; I was so ignorant compared to them. Then we discovered something that I was good at......" 
Knowing that she had him hung on her every word, she held off what she was saying. He had his eyes entirely fixed on her, "What? What is it?!",
"Solving."
"Solving?"
"Puzzle solving."
She glanced at him and saw that he didn't quite understand.
"I can solve any puzzle, any problem, anything. That is, as long as I have enough information."
Now he understood, Richard beamed at her. "That's incredible!"
She smiled with a small sense of smugness, "You don't even have any prove that I'm good. Why don't you test my abilities? Go on, give me any problem, and I will solve it."
He considered it, and then a girl forced the compartment door open. Like May, she was also small, but clearly older. She had short, dark red hair and eyes like two black buttons. But other than this her other features were pure and simple. Behind her was a tall figure, he lurked in the shadows as her ominous protector.
"Good afternoon." Her tone was polite, but her hidden excitement could be heard easily, "I'm Aria, and this is my brother, Solomon." As she said this, her eyes observed the compartment slowly and suspiciously. "I'm here to tell you that someone has gone missing. Her name is Endora Rose, she was travelling alone so no one might have noticed that she was gone, but we were in a compartment with her. We've looked all other the train and she's no where to be seen; now, it's clear that she hasn't left the train because we haven't reached the first stop and-"
"Wrong." Aria's eyes fixed solely on May, she walked so she was right in front her and said "What do you mean?".
"Well, there are other ways she could have left the train."
"It's not like she jumped off the train."
"I didn't say that."
May waited for her to get there on her own.
"You're not suggesting that she was forced out?"
"It's only one possibility, I have no were near enough information to-"
But Aria was no longer paying attention, Instead she was talking to her brother, exclaiming "We've got to solve it! We've found ourselves a real mystery at last, and my curiosity will not allow us to leave until it is solved and the murderer is caught red-handed!".
With that, they slammed the door shut. Richard turned to May and asked, "Do you really think that she was forced off?"
"Maybe. There are other perfectly logical explanations, but there is something strange about this case that suggests that normal explanations won't fit. I'll tell you the same thing I told her, though. I do not have enough-"

Outside the compartments was silent.
Then suddenly, a hysterical cry came out of nowhere.
It sobbed. It's laughed. It stopped.

Aria was in her own compartment, observing a piece of parchment. Despite appearances, Aria was an intelligent girl, this could be seen in the way her eyes focused solely on the words written on the page. But she was naive, someone who wouldn't question the drink that somebody else gave her.

"Look what you've done." stated Solomon, darkly and dangerously,
"What are you referring to?" inquired May quietly,
"My Aria, my sweet and curious Aria, is dead. It's your fault."
The reactions of Richard and May where typical of anyone who has heard of death; surprise and then sadness. Once they passed a respectful silence the question came:
"How is it our fault?"
"Not your fault boy. Hers. She had to lead Aria on about a murder case, the murderer probably killed her because she was sniffing around so she-" the grief in Solomon's voice became clearer and clearer before becoming an outright sob.
"Let me see her."

Before going to the compartment, May requested for a doctor, claiming that her friend had collapsed. At first, Solomon objected, stating that Aria was long dead and that no doctor was going to help her now. But May insisted that they needed a professionals confirmation and perhaps the cause of her death could be determined.
Aria looked as though she was simply leaning on the window, asleep.
A glass was rolling on the floor, every now and again it would give a short sharp clang as it it the bench; a pool of water was gathered around it, undecided on which way it would go, remaining indifferent. It would decide soon though.
The parchment was on her lap, May picked it up.

It was determined by the Doctor that she was poisoned. This, along with Endora going missing, was told to the rest of the train. Like a bumblebee, the train buzzed over the next couple days until it reached it's first stop; people were more cautious, less eager to talk with strangers and looking forward to getting off the train. Those who hadn't planned to get off at the this stop were discussing what their plan of action was, but the main topic of debate was obvious.
"Who was the murderer?"
Two more people had joined the compartment, Solomon and the Doctor. Solomon had decided to get off at the first stop, he wanted to meet up with family. Accusations against May had long vanished and now he remained quiet and thoughtful, looking out the window. When the question was raised he looked over at May, as though he was finally going to get the answer he had been waiting for. But May shook her head, "I can't answer yet, I have ideas but there isn't enough information to reach a conclusion."
"Could you just tell us you ideas?" Solomon asked with slight desperation in his voice,
But May shook her head again and explained quietly and slowly, "I have intuitions and suspicions which, although have been correct in the past, cannot be used to concluded alone, they need to be tied together with scraps of information. That is how the truth is formed."

Hidden I

The train gradually slowed down until it reached the station, the high pitched screech of the wheels echoing through the late evening. It was an old train, with a coat of ominous black metal spread with the laziness of someone who's main priority was to finish the job. If you were to touch it surely it would feel rough as bitty, microscopic pieces of harden painting would prick your finger like Sleeping Beauty's spindle.
Once it had come to a halt, everyone waited for the doors to open. The ghostly figures in black swarmed together like splodges of ink on parchment; no one talked, but authority was determined as more assertive people had their toes on the train stations edge. The gateways were small and inconvenient, they revealed nothing about the inside of the train. People hopped over the slither of fright and appeared to sink into a dark abyss of unknown.
In reality, the inside was rather traditional. The corridors continued forevermore, making the future appear as unclear as ever. To enter a compartment you would twist the handle of a sliding door, due to the train being old the doors were rather stiff, quite a bit of force had to be used before there was finally enough room for a person to enter. Into compartment seven entered a small girl, she was probably fifteen years old with long blonde hair in a casual plate down her back, her dark brown eyes spoke of boredom, hardship, innocence and intellect. First she observed the room, the nodded, then moved next to the window, drew a large book from her traveling bag, and read. Next came a boy. He was both similar and different from her. His hair was also casually done, but it was short and ordinary, his dark brown eyes spoke of kindness, suffering, strength and stubbornness. He smiled around the room and then took a seat next to the girl. Imaging yourself walking round a deary and boring gallery, every painting is a typical and miserable landscape and you find yourself tired and wondering why your even there in the first place. Then suddenly, you come across the most beautiful painting. Each and every drop of paint on the page, every colour used and shape created was made for you and only you. That is the only way to describe how the boy looked at the golden haired girl sat next to him.
He asked her what book she was reading,
"None of your business." She replied.
Then he inquired what her name was,
"Goldie."
Really?
"No, not really. Idiots."
There was a moment silence where the boy simply stared at her in amazement and confusion.
"My name is May. Lilly May Williams."
Everything about Lilly May contradicted. Her back was as stiff and perfect as a right angled triangle, but her shoulders were too relaxed to be acceptable. Her legs neatly hung from her seat, but she they would swing from side to side every now and again. Her facial expression was reserved, but sometimes there would be a glimpse of a smile, right in the corner of her mouth. She was a lady, but not born and bread, only recently had she learnt the art of adequacy. This is why it took her a few minutes to remember what was correct.
"Richard. Richard Curtis."
He was the complete opposite to her. A gentleman from the moment his eyes opened to see the earth. He all his movements, expressions, gestures and statements had being engraved in him. However, there was a warmth in his face which could not be taught nor taken away, though it was clear that people had tried.
After that, they talked for hours, as though they had known each other their entire lives. In their small, peaceful and happy aura, they noticed no one and heard nothing. But outside the compartment, down the stretching corridor a pale woman stood. In the dark, it was hard to make out many of her features, but her luminous skin should her short dark hair, her navy cardigan, her smiling pale lips. Endora Rose had been carrying something for many years now, she had longed and prayed to be free of it, and now the end had come. She knew, from the second she had stepped onto the train, that this would be her fate.
As she flew, there was a moment where everything stopped. Her lifeless body hung in the air, gracefully, as the world held it's breath for the final moment of Endora Rose's life. Then the second was gone, and her body hit the ground. Heavy, harsh and hard.

Jonathan

"You killed him."
Jonathan looked up at his father.
"You killed my son. You killed Mathew."
A mother started screaming in the background. Crying and sobbing hysterically.
"Mathew! Mathew! MATHEW!" He eyes desperately looking, trying to find her son.
Her eyes found someone. Someone who looked identical to him. Who could be him.
"Mathew?" She asked before collapsing.

Mother had always been a sensitive soul. Bless her heart. She is not to blame. May she find peace. But why did she have to do this? Why couldn't she accept the devastating truth?
Unable to accept the fact that her Mathew had died. She decided that he hadn't. This is all very well. But Mathew wasn't there. You could only pretend someone isn't dead for so long, because they're not there. Once you realises this you are forced to realise the truth.
But this mother could pretend. Because she had someone who was exactly like her deceased son.
So from then on, Jonathan was called Mathew. On Mathew's grave it said 'Jonathan', friends and family were told the news about Jonathan's death. But not on any account, do you mention this to Mother. Yes she's going through a difficult time at the moment, she doesn't even remember Jonathan. No, we don't want her to see a doctor. I'm sure she'll get better soon. Just make sure you don't mention Jonathan to her.
That's right.
Jonathan doesn't exist anymore.

At first he couldn't cope with it. He would curl up in a corner and mutter "My name is Jonathan. My name is Jonathan." There were a couple of close calls, were mother almost heard. One day she heard him and asked "Who's Jonathan?"
Father grabbed his son by his back collar, and dragged him to another room. Where he shut the door firmly.
"Are you not satisfied?" he spat.
"What?" The boy muttered with confusion.
"First you kill my son. Now you are planning to break Mother. Do you want to destroy everything around you? You disgust me. Listen, this is what I want of you. We will move town soon, and when we do you will become Mathew. You are no longer Jonathan. You are Mathew. You don't deserve the name, but it will have to do. You will also look happy and act happy. There is only one emotion you are now allowed to feel. That is pain. Sadness, anger, depression, excitement and love. You will not feel them, because you do not deserve them. You murderer."

So that is what happened.
They moved to a new town, were he was introduced to the class as 'Mathew'. He looked happy and acted happy. But inside he felt nothing but pain. Funny enough, this had a weird effect. Whenever he saw someone in pain, it was like their emotions were loaded onto him. One day, he saw a girl crying alone in the classroom, and he thought:
"One day, I will go to hell, because I killed my brother. I have sinned greatly. But I wonder, if I was to help this girl, would I be able to go to hell, knowing that I did some good. Even though it doesn't make up for my sins?"
So he went in, and comforted her.
And soon, he became a kind of saint in the school.

"But no matter who I help, no matter what others think of me. It will not change the fact that I am a murderer. I cannot be sad, angry, depressed or excited. There is no love in me, there is only pain."
She had listened to all of this. Plainly and fairly. And had this is say.
"Jonathan-"
"My name is not Jonathan."
"Yes it is."
They looked at each other stubbornly. She continued.
"Jonathan. You sit to the left of me, a couple of seats ahead. I know nearly every expression on your face. I have seen you over the years, and there is no way that you do not feel sadness, anger, depression or excitement. I do not know about love...."
He turned away from her, again looking at the sunset.
"This is not right. I do not think you are a murder, but even if you were. Even if you had killed Mathew with you bare hand. I would still love you. Even if I didn't love you, I would think that you have received a punishment to hard for anyone to bare. Listen to me Jonathan. You have payed your debt. So why are you still in your shackles? You have felt pain, just like Mathew asked you to; You have worn the name Mathew, just like your father asked you to. I will now come."
She walked over to him and grabbed his wrist.
"And I will release you from your shackles. You are now free."
He looked at her in amazement and disbelief.
"LISTEN EVERYONE! JONATHAN IS NOW FREE!" She shouted to the world.
"Jonathan is now free." She told him.
He looked at her and smiled, love in his eyes.

"Thank you Anna."

Mathew

In a typical high school classroom, a girl looked over at Mathew.
She looked at him with the most curious expression on her face. It was almost as though she was gazing a the most beautiful painting in the world, it was something that she had seen many times before, so the initial shock was gone, but there were still new things to search for.
Because every time she looked at Mathew, she saw something new there. She was sure that she knew him the best in the entire world.
"You really love him don't you?"
Her friend was suddenly in front of her, obviously watching her watching Mathew. The girl blushed and nodded, looking at her feet in embarrassment. He friend laughed and said "You better be careful though. You're not the only one after him."
This was true. Everybody knew and loved Mathew. Smart, handsome and friendly. He was the kind of guy that would help everybody no matter what, always making sure other people were happy, even if it meant sacrificing himself. He empathised more than anybody ever could. Even she, had once been bullied and unaccepted by her classmates. But Mathew had become her friend, and now she had lots of friends. She was eternally grateful.
She flushed with determination, adjusted her glasses, took a novel out of her bag and went over to him.
Mathew had been staring out of the window, ignorant to her gazing. It actually took him a moment for him to realise she was standing in front of his desk. When he noticed, he smiled and greeted her. He had a beautiful smile.
"Umm... I- I wanted to give this to you." She stammered, as she held out the book.
"Oh thank you! I sure I'll enjoy it, and I'll give it back as soon as I'm finished."
"You- You can keep it for as long as you want."
"Thank you."
There was a slight pause. She desperately tried to think of something to talk about.
"Sorry, one of the pages is starting to fall out. My sister borrowed it and didn't treat it very well." She stated with casual annoyance in her voice.
Mathew turned and looked at her, there was a look in his face that she had never seen before, and she wondered if she had said something wrong. But then he smile and said, "I didn't know you had a sister."
"Yeah, she's- umm- a couple of years under than us...."
Again she tried to think of something to say.
"You don't have any siblings do you Mathew." She stated. Sure that she knew everything about him. Sure that this was a safe conversation.
"I had a brother."
She looked at him in surprise. He was wearing a look of regret on his face, like he said something her shouldn't have.
"He was my twin. But he died, a long time ago."
The only thing she could think to say was "Sorry"
"It's alright. It happened a long time ago." Giving her a reassuring smile.
She decided to leave him. As she made her way home thought "Do I know anything about Mathew? Does anybody know anything about Mathew?".

A couple of days later, she gathered the courage to ask him something:
"Could we walk home together today?"
On the way home, they walked in silence for a while. He started conversation this time.
"I'm really enjoying the book you gave me."
"Really?" She blushed,
"Yeah. It's quite sad though."
"Yes it is."
There was an awkward pause. She decided to take this opportunity and say,
"About what you said the other day...."
"Hmm?"
"About your brother..."
He sated at the ground in silence. The said "It's nothing. Please don't worry about it. Like I said, it happened a long time ago."
She remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
"His name was Jonathan. He died when we were eleven."
"Were you close?"
"Very."
"How did he die?"
Mathew went back to staring at the ground, and she decided to tell him her true feelings.
"Listen Mathew. I love you."
She took a deep breath, and continued.
"I have always loved you. You help everybody, you are kind to everybody. There is nothing you wouldn't do to help somebody. When I was all alone, you reach out to me. You know everything about me.
I know that you would sacrifice yourself if it meant that somebody else didn't get hurt. Even if they were the worst person in the world. But sometimes I think, Who helps Mathew? Who would sacrifice themselves for Mathew? Then I realised something. I don't know anything about you. That makes me sad because I love you so much and I didn't even know you had a brother. Something as simple as that and I didn't even know." Tears started to fall from her eyes, but she didn't bother to wipe them off. Instead she looked to him.
He was staring off into the sunset. Thinking. At last he turned to look at her.
"I killed him."
"Huh?"
"I killed him. I killed my brother. Jonathan."
"No you didn't."
He looked at her intent and said "I'm not capable of love. The only emotion I am capable of is pain.
But although I cannot love you. I will tell you my story. Only you. As thank you for your feelings."

Jonathan and Mathew

"Jonathan and Mathew" a mother stated.
Did she prefer one to the other? Of course not. She never would. Neither would the father. Everybody loved the twin boys the same. That is exactly why this story is so sad.

Five years later, there was a garden party at the family house. The two boys were identical and inseparable. They played in the corner of the garden, looking for bugs, being their mischievous selves. While digging, a worm wiggled in between Mathew's fingers, slimy and rubbery, it slithered up his hand. Mathew cried out loud in fear, he shook his arm around like a mad man, wailing and sobbing. He would always be sensitive like that. Then he felt his brothers embrace, his hand on the back of his head, stroking it while saying "It's okay, it's okay... You're okay". Mathew cried into his brother's shoulder, thankful that he had his older brother to protect him.
The garden was a rectangular shape, the bottom quarter of it was patio, the rest was perfectly trimmed grass. On the patio, mother had set up small garden tables and chairs, where guests ate tea and cake. Mother was a gentle spirited, you could say Mathew took after her, for she was very sensitive. But on the other hand she had a brilliant smile, and could immediately light up the room. The boys loved to lay their heads on her lap (Jonathan on the right, Mathew on the left) as she sang her lullabies to them. One might compare her to a flowerbed. This is the only way to really describe her, soft, beautiful and natural. She served tea to father, who sat on one of the tables, pretending to read a large newspaper. What he was really doing was observing the boys. Father was a righteous and stern man. There's nothing wrong with that; everybody has their morals and policies. Maybe he could be a little too strict. But inside, he really loved his wife and sons. On the inside, he might have been as soft as her.

When the boys went to school, they wore matching outfits. They walked, hand in hand, chatting casually along the way. Over the years, Jonathan had become rather protective of his younger brother. He felt the responsibility of being the oldest, and thought that if Mathew came into any harm, it would be his fault. This responsibility was not taken on unwillingly or forcefully, in fact Jonathan took it on himself. While walking down the street on their way to school, there was a sudden noise- it was probably a cat- and Jonathan went into a protective stance in front of Mathew, while Mathew cowered behind him. He had big, watery eyes, which looked at the world with fear, and at his brother with admiration. In school they were constantly together. Jonathan was willing to let children play with them, but as soon as Mathew became uncomfortable, he sent them away.While watching them you could almost see a aura around them, an aura of happiness and brotherhood.
But they came for him. Invisible creatures that slithered onto Mathew, crawling up his lags and arms. They whispered in his ear "Your not as good a him". Once they muttered these disgusting lies they would wriggle their way into his ear, and feast inside his body until they found his heart. There, they wrapped themselves round and tightened like rope. Poor Jonathan, how could he protect his brother against something that he could see? Something that didn't exist? That's right, the only person who saw them was Mathew. They didn't exist. Nobody compared them. Nobody thought Mathew to be inferior. If only he had just talked to someone, whether it be his brother, mother or father, they would have surely been able to get rid of these lies.

But Mathew didn't tell anyone about them. Instead, he let the parasites slowly eat him away. And then at eleven years old, Jonathan walked into their room, and finally saw the ropes that had taken Mathew.
There was also a letter.
"Dear Jonathan,

We have always been together, but now we will separate.
But before I say goodbye I want to tell you my true feelings.
I hate you.
I was always below you, you were always better than me. You were born as a human, I was born as your shadow, nothing more.
I know that our parents loved you more, I know that our friends loved you more, I know everybody loved you more. I know the truth.
I have one last wish.
I want you to feel pain.

You owe me this, because you were the one to kill me.

Goodbye.
Mathew."

The Cyberbully

The nest of the cyber bully is a dark room. It is impossible to say how big this room is, or what it looks like, or even what room it is, because 90% is a black abyss that is anonymous to everyone.

The only light in the room is the painful glare of a computer screen. With this light it is possible to make out a few things, that the computer is on a desk, there are school books placed beside it ready for the next morning, and the Cyberbully sits at the desk. In the corner of the screen, the computer states that it is 2:03 am. Doesn't it have school tomorrow? Despite the light being so close, it is almost impossible to make out the Cyberbully. It is wearing a coat of darkness, therefore it is difficult to pinpoint the traits of it. But it's hand is visible, clutching to the mouse in a familiar way. The hand is young with naturally soft and innocent skin, it is warming and inviting, yet it clicks the mouse from time to time in an abrupt and cold manner. Who's have known? 

The coat of darkness that the Cyberbully wears has a hood that completely covers it's eyes, but every now and then it's hand will reach up and rubb it's eyes. Those eyes must be so stiff and dry from staring at that glare for so long. Perhaps this is what makes it blind, blind to it's ignorance and cruelty.

The mouth of the Cyberbully frowns deeply as it observes the web page on the computer screen. Casually, it takes it's right hand off the mouse, reaches for a cigarette packet, the draws out a cugarette, lights it, and smokes. All these movements are done with the ease of someone who is familiar to them. The innocent young hand and the cigarette juxtapose each other, and you begin to wonder how the two are allowed to be together. Surely it is breaking some form of natural law?

"Act like the innocent flower but be the serpent under it" The Cyberbully often thought. Surprised it knows Shakespeare? Well maybe it didn't quite get the meaning, because rather than being disgusted by Lady Macbeth, it took her advice. What we see now is only available to see at night. The rest of the time it is in disguise, maybe it's that really friendly new girl in art class, maybe it's that funny guy who sits next to you in chemistry. Who knows.

The website that it has been observing for quite some time now is an anti-cyberbullying site. It uses bright colours, bold letters, and irritating stop signs. How annoying, thought the Cyberbully. The owner of the website had posted videos, giving support to the victims.

"They're pathetic" he says.

How dare he. 

And suddenly all the hatred and anguish which had been bottled up inside started pouring out and fell into the screen. The Cyberbully unleashed it's full potential.

In the corner of it's eye, the Cyberbully could see the shadow of someone swinging from a rope. It did not care.

I didn't do this, it's social networking.

Do guns kill people? Or do people kill people?

Beyond The Darkness

On this night where the sky is filled with the faraway stars and fireflies dance whimsically, I walk unknowingly beside you.

I am forever gone, forever invisible to you. Yet I am always with you. Nostalgia is my constant companion, as I remember the days of us together in the daylight, laughing. We were young and innocent, because darkness would never come. I truly loved this place, the warmth and beauty of nature. It's ever growing trees, protecting us from harm; they stood before us like intimidating fathers, strict and scared that someday we would get hurt. When we ran through our familiar labyrinth, boots brushed long grass, it whispered "Welcome back!". Even in our teens, we both believed in the sheer magic of this place.

It was winter when my time suddenly came. The trees naked and shaken, the grass muddied and silent, a fog lingering in the air, and in your heart. Yes, I watched you, as you grieved. In the darkest days you refused to leave your bed; preferring the numbness of sleep, the pain of hunger. The only light you would accept was Romeo's artificial light, and even then you strained your eyes, at natural light you screamed and howled. "But I am here!" I called, even though he never heard me. Helplessly I hovered over him, praying that someone would save him. "Forget me!" I cried one day, "If you forget me, you will smile again. Forget me and you will be happy." He must have heard, for the next day he left his room and went to school.

I followed him as he went back to his normal life. He stayed in lessons without causing any problems, he chatted to our friends without shouting at them. I was completely forgotten it seemed, He had moved on. I should be happy, because this is what I wanted. Stupidly, I went to a private place where I cried alone. Idiot, you are alone, no matter were you are. "If only I had lived"I thought as I cursed my fate.

Tonight he has a date. He struggles when deciding what to wear, should he go casual or formal? He goes half and half, wearing jeans but a shirt. When he tried to smoothen his hair, I imagined my living self ruffling it, saying "Why bother? It's always a mess". These days I don't bother saying anything to him, all I do is walk beside him. An expressionless, useless spirit, with no reason. Ah, when will I be relieved of this pain? When will I be allowed to move on as he has? I am nothing more than a shadow as he walks out of his house, along the neighbourhood, and into the forest. I look at him in surprise, he hasn't come here since I was here.

Nothing has changed here, The beautiful summer night is breathtaking. Everything I've been denying pours into me, filling me up. I look back at him and see he feels the same. He remembers it all. All the happiness and sadness. He remembers me. I laugh out loud, and dance around the forest in ecstasy, "He remembers me!" I shout and sing. He laughs.

Then someone shouts from the distance "Hello? Are you there?" and he responds. As he walks to her I am by his side. I look at the stars, the fireflies, his face and know it is time for my to go.
"Goodbye" I say, as we both leave darkness behind.