"Don't look at me"

[EasyAs]

For my grade 12 Literature class, we were told to write a short story set in the 1700s. I chose this story because its themes were very controversial in those times, and apparently still are haha. I was supposed to flunk because a teacher complained it was "too explicit" but I managed an A.

 

Anyway, this may offend some, but please review. I worked hard on it. Please excuse any spelling and grammar errors, as this is a retype of it and I havn't managed to take a fine toothed come to it

 

 

“Don’t Look At Me”

By Mitchell Connolly

 

 

 

 

It would have been bright out tonight, had the sky not been so choked with rain. It had subsided, for the moment, but the thick clouds rolled and broke menacingly, like a tide of mud, keeping the tiny people underneath ready to raise their umbrellas. Because of this, it was very dark, and Gabrielle had trouble making out the alley that she was about to enter. Behind her, the chak chak of horses burdened with carriage faded in and out as they passed her. A man with a long pole walked by, smiling to her as he used the pole to open and light the lanterns. Holding her breath, she walked into the darkness.

Her skin prickled as she trusted herself to the shadows. When she had reached its centre, she waited. It had been only a few minutes before she started to doubt. Maybe she wouldn’t show…

She felt a strong, but slender arm circle her from behind, the cold intrusion of a knife tip being held to the nape of her back. Her breath caught in her throat and her body tensed, feeling her chest heave. Soft lips brushed against her ear, whispering to her.

“Are you alone?” she said, smiling evilly as she held the girl tight against her. She smelled of mould and soap. Gabrielle should have wanted to scream, even though the knife would have kept her quiet. She should have been afraid of the mugging and possible rape that would follow from the person holding her. But she knew who it was. Who “she” was, and she would play along with her little game.

“Alone and vulnerable” she whispered back, feeling her face grow hot. She felt the knife retreat and she spun around to Katarina, throwing her arms around her as they embraced warmly. Katarina was larger then Gabrielle, so Gab leaned her head against her chest, hugging her tightly. She smiled distantly as she felt Kats fingers stroke her hair. When she looked up to her lovers face, they kissed, gently at first, then deeply, pressing into each other, feeling the warmth of their bodies.

For several minutes the world vanished. The only thing that existed the Gabrielle was the thief girl that held her. Soon, it ended, and Katarina asked how long she had. Gabrielle looked down.

“Scarcely more then an hour… I must leave then. Father will awake early to rake in the peoples coins at Sunday Service” Images of her father flashed across her vision, his black robe and white collar perfect and neat, his glasses hiding his malevolent, greedy eyes. The images made her want to throw something against the wall, but it vented into tears. Gabrielle cried, and Kat drew her close. As if the gods themselves had been moved to tears, it rained.

 

 

Gabrielle winced at the loud click of the door opening. The sun would rise in an hour, and she needed to get to bed before her father awoke to take her to church. She slipped through the half opened doorway and closed it as quietly as possible. It was still dark, so she didn’t see the man standing in the hallway.

“Where have you been?” She spun to her father’s voice. Before she could speak, pain exploded in the side of her face, and the ground came rushing towards her. She lay sprawled on the wooden floor, trying to comprehend the strike her father had dealt.

“**ore!” He spat, and reached down to grab her hair, half dragging, half throwing her into the living room, where her body slammed into the cold wood. An evil looking fire had been stocked in the fireplace, the grate leaning against the wall.

Why was he doing this to her? There was only one conclusion. He knew. He knew about Katarina. He would kill her for sure.

He walked into the room with the stride of a man with all the time in the world. He straightened his white collar and kicked her, lifting her up off the ground. She coughed up blood, her throat raw from crying. No one would hear her. No one would save her.

He walked around her, circling like a black shark, reading from a small bible and flicking holy water onto her writhing body. He spoke to her in a crazed voice.

“Repent your Sin child! Repent! Or I will mark you as Kain was marked by god, so all the world will shun you for the demon you are!” He reached down to her and grabbed her hair again, rubbing holy oil through her hair and bringing her towards the fire. She whimpered pitifully as the heat washed over her face.

“Repent child! Or meet the flames!” She screamed her defiance, struggling feebly. He thrust her in, casting her into the fire. She screamed as she felt her skin peel and curl, exposing her twitching muscles to burn in excruciating pain. She screamed and screamed until she feared her throat would collapse in on itself. She smelt a horrid smell… her own burning hair. He pulled her out, and he skinless face was exposed to the biting cold, but she had no breath left to scream. She held her face and thrashed around, knocking over a small table. He screamed at her, lifting her up by the fires again.

“Greet the flames! They await all the wicked and sinful!”

So this is how it would end. She was going to die, all because she loved a woman. NO! She wouldn’t die like this! Not now. She reached into the coals and grabbed a handful of hot embers. Her hand burned, but she didn’t care. She threw them at her father, and he cried out in pain, his glasses falling to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and tried to run, but he grabbed her skirt and she feel to her knees. She turned to face him, crawling away from him on her elbows, looking for anything that might help her.

He grabbed a sooty fire stoker and advanced on her, his black loafers crunching on cooling embers. “BITCH!” he roared, ready to kill her. He fingers touched something cold and smooth, a tiny crystal bottle full of holy oil. Blindly, she swung out with it, connecting with his head with a crisp smashing sound. He stumbled back, covered in oil and slammed into the fire place. He drenched robes ignited and he was engulfed in seconds.

Gabrielle could barely recognize the world around her as she ran out into the cold wet yard, collapsing on the grass. She dimly watched the house go up in flames, then gave in to the darkness.

 

When Katarina saw the hooded figure appear from the early evening mist, she rushed to meet her, unaware of what had happened. She went to embrace her, but Gabrielle drew away from her. It was then that Kat saw the curled, twisted flesh of her fingers poking out from her sleeves.

“Gab?” She whispered. “Gabby? Whats happened?” She made to remove the hood, but Gabrielle stiffened. Under the hood, Kat could here her gasping cries, barely audible. Katarina moved for the hood again, gently this time. Gabrielle didn't step back. Slowly, Katarina removed the hood, revealing Gabrielle’s ruined, monstrous face, bald and burnt, a tear pooling in her twisted cheek. There was a long silence, Gabrielle looking down, waiting for Katarina to run. It never happened.

Katarina drew her close, holding her and letting her cry, tenderly kissing her forehead and telling her it would be ok.

 

 

The End