a 24-year-old girl from Canada

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This is the first chapter of my first book. Of course i need improvement, but please enjoy. If you want to read the second chapter, just send me a message. Thanks :)

Chapter 1

All things change, And we with them


               Brook sat on the bench watching the casket fall deeper into the soil. Her black dress was damp from the rain, but everyone else’s cheeks were damp with tears. She watched her grandfather’s coffin fall deeper in the soil. Brook wondered if the man in it had lived out his life fully. She had seen him only once alive, and had refused to see him dead. She did not believe that it was him in the casket; nor did she want to feel pity for the people around him. It was for his soul that she grieved; the only part of him she knew. She believed bodies were just vessels for souls to wander in. If they were kept clean and sanitary, the souls would live a long life, but if they were regarded as trash, then the souls within them deserved a life of pain, rotting in their own bodies.

                  Brook felt the wet, cold rain run through her blonde hair like death’s cold bony hands, trailing down her skull and spine. She felt the crisp, chilling air pierce her lips like death’s cold kiss. Was it because she was sitting in a cemetery, or did she truly feel death’s presence? The wind howled through the tree. As people hugged and cried, it seemed to cry with them.

                  The wind is too kind, Brook thought and shivered lightly. The casket was now almost fully covered by dank earth. The clouds covered the sky and seemed to cloud Brook’s head. She suddenly felt like the black sheep on a farm. All the white sheeps huddled together in the barn, but Brook was left out in the cold.

                  A priest sang a Bible verse and Brook glared at him grimly. She hated priests; she hated everything they stood for and their sexist church. Brook was an atheist and despised organized religion. She kicked at the wet soil glumly and looked at the coffin again. The men had begun to cover the red casket with the cemetery dirt. Brook couldn’t bear the thought of being buried. Lying in a casket, a prison for the dead. It was like torture for the departed! Brook always thought cremation was the way to go. But she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to come back. What if her soul was looking for its vessel, but its vessel was just dust blowing in the wind?

                  Her violet eyes fluttered with rain drops as she worked to quiet the never-ending morbid thoughts running in and out of her somber mind. She didn’t want anyone to understand her. Getting to know her was a battle that few people were willing to fight. Brook resented that. She turned on the bench to look away from the mourners. She saw a deep dark willow tree with a white rose, a black rose and a red rose planted under it. She whisked her way over there without drawing attention.  She knelt down in front of her flowers. Luna and Brook had made this altar when they were 13. Luna was Brook’s best friend. They had planted six roses, two black, two red and two white. They had carved in their names and a message into the willow.  Now they were unreadable. 

                  “We’ll make it, Luna,” Brooklyn whispered to the silent roses. Luna was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 14. She died two years later.  Luna’s roses had never grown. Only three stood tall over their names. “We’ll make our—” Brook was about to whisper but was interrupted.

                  “Brooklyn, come on.” She heard her uncle, Adam, call for her. Brook stroked the roses’ petals and stood to go to her uncle.

                  Brook’s uncle was only 7 years older than her. His name was Adam Davenport and he portrayed himself as a business type. In reality, he was a cook at a French restaurant, but thought people would laugh if he admitted what he really did. He had shaggy brown hair and light blue eyes. He tried to be more like a father to Brook, but she secretly always thought of him as a mentor.

                  “Hey, Brook,” Adam said when Brook got to him. He flung an arm around her and walked her to the main building of the cemetery. “River and I are going to be here a while, so you can head back to school.”

                  “Okay, Adam,” Brook said and then went to grab her backpack.

                  “Don’t forget to say goodbye to River, Brooklyn!” Adam yelled back to her.

                  Don’t forget to say goodbye to River, Brooklyn,” Brook mimicked when he was out of range.

                  “You hate me that much?” someone laughed from behind Brook.

                  She turned and saw River. He was an attractive man with blond hair and green eyes. He was Adam’s best friend for life. He pretended to be a daredevil, but was nothing of the sort. He was holding Brook’s backpack.

                  “Oh, no, I was just talking to myself,” Brook lied. River treated Brook like a child. She secretly liked him, but the more he treated her that way, the less she liked him. “I’m heading off to school, so I’ll see you later.”

                  “Here,” he said handing her backpack to her. “I’ll pick you up later.”

                  “Thanks,” Brook said and tried to smile. She then swung the bag over her shoulder and walked down the cemetery path. She didn’t turn to wave goodbye, but just walked.  She could feel River’s eyes on her back like a bad sunburn, burning deep into her skin. Brook was once a happy person, but ever since Luna’s death, she’d turned morbid and distant. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to let anyone in; it was that she just couldn’t.

                  She walked through the cemetery gate and started to walk down the street. Barely any cars drove by, barely any birds chirped. She heard only her feet hitting the sidewalk and the wind blowing through her hair. It was almost winter now, but Halloween had to come first. Luna and Brook used to decorate Luna’s place like a haunted house and scare kids.  These days, Halloween had no meaning anymore.

                  It started to rain harder than before so Brook walked a little more briskly. She felt the rain hit the cross that dangled around her neck. Luna and Brook had broken the cross in half, but now two pieces dangled around her neck.

                  “Oh my gosh! It’s raining!” Brook heard a girl laugh.

                  Brook looked up to see four girls leaning against a willow tree talking. One girl was fixing her make-up, one was brushing her hair and two were splashing each other with rain water.

                  “Ugh, I might need to get my hair done again,” one of them said, sighing.

                  Brook stopped and was debating crossing the street to get away from them.  Instead she found herself carrying on closer and closer.

                  One of the girls had an anklet that read “Tiffany.”  Brook knew she was the ringleader.

                  “Tiff, check it out,” one of the other girls said.  Tiffany looked right at Brook.

                  “This might be fun,” Tiffany laughed and put her brush away.

                  I’ll put a curse on you, sister, Brook thought but continued on.

                  Brook clenched her shoulder straps tighter and was almost five steps away from the girls. The girls then formed a gate out of themselves, arms interlocked, but Brook had no intention of stopping. She trenched threw the puddles in her knee-high boots as the girls wore high heels.

                  “Hi…um…..what’s your name again?” Tiffany asked through a mouthful of gum. She had one leg bent and one of her hips higher than the other.

                  The simple girly pose, Brook decided and continued walking forward, not stopping.

                  “Look, it’s the Brooklyn Bridge,” a girl whispered to Tiffany.

                  “Oh right, I’m Tiffany, by the way.”  She flashed her best fake smile, the kind of smile she used on their history teacher to get better grades.

                  “Whatever,” Brook said and tried to pass through the girls.

                  “So, you live around her, don’t you?” Tiffany asked. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail.

                  “I was coming from the cemetery,” Brook said and once again tried to pass.

                  “Oh, making more potions or putting more curses on me?” Tiffany asked. She laughed which meant all of her friends had to laugh.

                  “No, just digging your grave,” Brook said so dead seriously that, for a moment, Tiffany actually believed her.

                  “She just wishes she looked better than you, Tiff!” one of the girls laughed.

                  “That’s not hard.”  Brook pushed past the girls.

                  “Just admit it, you’re jealous!” Tiffany yelled at her.

                  Brook said nothing, but kept on walking, she didn’t have the time to give in to them.

                  “Luna was jealous!” one of the girls yelled.

                  “Oh, please!” Brook laughed with her back turned to them. “She would’ve help dig your graves.”

                  “Looks like you ended up digging her grave instead,” Tiffany said. “Oh yes poor little Luna. I have cancer, boo hoo!”

                  Brook stopped in her tracks. Anger started to boil up inside of her chest. That &&##* had gone too far. Furious, Brook spun around and walked straight up to Tiffany. The girl had an evil grin on her face.

                  “What are you going to do about that, Brooklyn?” 

                  Brook took one look at her, pulled up her spider web glovetts,  swung her arm back, and punched Tiffany in the face. The girl fell on her butt, holding her nose. Blood spilled through her hands.

                  “Don’t be #*$!#es if you can’t handle a fight,” Brook said to the girls, turning away. She’d vented her wrath and felt content. She walked away briskly, pleased with herself.

                  “Get her!” Tiffany hissed. The girls plunged on top of Brook, yanking her clothes and her hair. Brook tried to fight back, but they were all over her like lions on a baby antelope.

                  One of the girls smacked Brook’s head against the sidewalk.  Brook’s vision blurred, then went black.

                  “Someone’s coming Tiff,” she heard one of them say. “Let’s go…”

                  Brook heard their running steps. She tasted blood in her mouth and she gasped for breath as she sunk deeper into the darkness. She sensed a great black mass near her.

                  “Hello?” a voice said, but she couldn’t reply. She felt herself being lifted up. She struggled to get out of their reach.

                  “Even a deer knows when to stop fighting, Bambi.”

                  She tried to speak, but couldn’t summon the words. She pressed her head against something soft and warm.  The darkness consumed her. She then felt a cool breath in her ear. 

                  “Sleep, my morose deer,” a gentle voice whispered. “Sleep.” 

                  And that was what she did.

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