Holly's Angel...Chapter 1-I wanna fly, mommy by SweetAndOhSoME

Holly’s Angel
Chapter 1: I Wanna Fly Mommy

The park is bright and the kids around me scream with glee. I feel a longing to play on the swings. I really love the way it feels like I am flying when I am on the swings. What a rush! Someone bumps into me and I turn around, hands on my hips, in a tough, angry imitation of my mother when she, herself, is angry. Standing beside me is a raven haired boy with bright, mesmerizing eyes. I narrow my eyes at him. He should watch where he is going. He gives me an apologetic look. I glance behind him and see the probable source of our collision. A girl, one who looks identical to the boy, stands smirking. I look over at my mother, and feel an odd sense of dejavu, as if this has happened before.
“Angel baby, come and give your mom a kiss,” coos the curly brown-haired woman.
I run towards my mother. She is like my twin; we look so much the same. I plant a slobbery kiss on my mother’s cheek. Her cotton candy scent surrounds me. I smile, giddy in a way only a hyperactive five year old can be. Mommy always wears that little kid perfume.
“Angel kisses, Mommy!” I giggle.
“Yes, I love you, Angel baby. You know that don’t you?” she sighs, pulling me into a too-tight hug. She is acting strange. I am not used to Mommy’s somber countenance. It doesn’t fit her. It scares me. Her eyes appear burdened and she looks older.
“I love you more, Mommy!” I protest, running off to play with the other kids on the swings.
I sit on that rickety swing set, pumping my chubby, little legs back and forth, swinging myself higher and higher. I feel the wind carry me farther and farther and I begin to hum. I enjoy the feeling of flying until my mom whisks me inside for fresh baked cookies.
I munch a few down, mind still floating higher and higher. The sugar of the cookies doesn’t help to bring my head back from the clouds. In fact, it seems to push me further up.
“What are you thinking about, hun?” asks Mom. I am slightly surprised by her serious tone. In truth, I am slightly surprised by any words at all.
“I wanna fly, Mommy!” I exclaim happily, and then my voice changes, realizing Mommy might miss me if I flew away too soon,” Would you be awfully sad if I flew away?” I ask.
“Yes, I would. But someday, my Angel baby will have to fly away from me and I wish her well,” says Mommy, brown eyes heavy. Poor Mommy.
“What, Mommy?” my five year old mind is unable to understand the change in my usually bubbly—if short tempered—mother.
I smile, brown eyes—so like my mom’s—light up with the presence of an idea. I run up to her and wrap my arms around her tightly. I smile a big, daughterly smile and inform her,” I love you, Mommy!”
A smile brightens her face as she looks down at my innocent figure and she strokes my brown curls. It worked. I can always make Mommy happy. Always.
“I won’t leave you. Not unless you want me too,” I tell her.
“I love you, Angel baby!” exclaims my mom. She continues talking but her sweet voice grows icy and then distant. I try to hold onto her, her image, her warmth, her smell, but I feel myself being pulled forcibly away.
It’s so cold and empty and just plain wrong. Everything around me is white. A plain, dreary feeling of blankness envelops me. I sigh in desolation. My mind open feeling around, searching for something, anything. My mind feels only emptiness. And then a jolt races through me and inside my mind. A black blot appears.
“You can’t withhold yourself from me forever,” the Shadow says.
“Oh? I think I can,” says the whiteness around me. I gasp. Nothingness is something after all. The white, blank blanket stirs and shimmers brilliantly.
“Then why is that girl here again? She is waiting to fly. If she wants you, you cant withhold her true self from her,” says the Shadow in a mocking tone. His voice is like liquid fire: silky, hot, and dangerous. I shiver. It is so cold. Barren and cold.
The whiteness glances at me. With eyes? No, I suppose not. Something about the nothingness is looking at me.
“Oh. She is older now,” it says sadly. It’s voice is musical and dream-like, kind of a persuavive edge,” I suppose I am too.” And I suppose I am older. I am my fifteen year old self again.
“Yes, and , yet, no. How can you be old when you have yet to be born?” asks the Shadow.
I can feel the whiteness smile; I can feel myself smile.
“Luckily, there are some things you’ll never understand: love, dreams, me. You are right, it is time. Perhaps, we are ready. Perhaps, it is for the best,” says it, me, us. Ugh! My head hurts!
“And she will bring you to me,” says the Shadow.
“Maybe not…” says the blankness.
The Shadow flickers tauntingly. His faceless features contort with obvious contempt. “Don’t fool yourself. You are mine, demon,” it disappears.
With those words my whole body shivers with pain. Tendrils of smoky cold embrace my heart, setting it afire. I try to hold it in, but a scream bubbles in my throat as the tendrils twist and churn. My heart pounds, growing and shrinking in rapid succession. I am unaware of my surroundings, as scream after scream escapes my mouth. After what seems like days, the pain ceases, or seems to, and I breathe in deeply. There is no smoke, but the air tastes of tears. Nothing tears. From deep within—in the very core of my being—I hear its soft, persuasive voice.
“We are one now. I am sorry, but this is the way it is supposed to be.”
And a realization floods my mind. This nothingness and I… we always were one another. I had just hidden the need to fly in the center of my heart. It had always been there, buried. What changed?