Ragged

• Bethany Gardiner, Grade 10, John Wycliffe Christian School
• Short Story
• 2008

Finalist in the 'Empowered 2008' competition

The girl was huddled into a ball. Perched on a branch among the heights of an old oak tree. The full moon of the day before was leering down on her. Time hadn't moved from where she was. Days had passed before the lunar cycle caught up with itself. Then it had fallen behind again.
Pearly drops of water fell from the girls eyes and floated through the air. Gravity was meaningless, in places it existed, in places it did not. The only things that could be seen were The Everlasting Moon, her people's symbol, and The Unfading Sun. Often the sun would be far away, across the sky. But the moon was always there; taunting her, of a world long gone.
The dark sky seemed to split below the moon and a trickle of darkness was let through. It burned around her head and her pointed ears, leaving no mark. It draped itself around the tree branch… waiting. For the moment when her consciousness slipped and it could strike and consume. Just like its mother had consumed the heart of her people. And just like its brothers had consumed the body… all except for her.
Steams of darkness swept from the sky, from the ring around the moon. They all fell to the splitting ground, their skin… burning away. The faerie ran through the chaos, noble and strong. A circlet twisted through long hair.
But now her hair was tangled and ragged. Her skirt torn and twisted, from what she had tried… and failed to do. The scars on her arms, her face; still reminded her of her failing. She swung her silver blade through the air and brought it crashing down on the darkness. It imploded in on itself and sent leaves and bark falling… hovering… falling again, as gravity decided its fate.
She ran a slender finger along the thickest scar; her father had inflicted that one. Driven mad as his flesh was ripped off the bone. Willing to injure anything that moved… even his only child.
“Papa!” she screamed as he writhed in agony “Papa get up! Live! You have to live!” The dying faerie snarled and grabbed her ankle, yanking her to the ground. He grabbed a knife from the ground and raised it. A maddening fury reflected in his eyes. A raging fire burned around them, scorching the ground yet leaving her untouched.
A breeze whispered to her as she uncurled herself from a crouched position and stood. Lithe and easily balanced on the slender branch. It was a long way to the ground but what was distance in an empty world? Rags that were draped across her arm fell away, even fine silk, could not hide forever the white bone that was all that was left of her. She dug her nails into the marrow and gouged out her name… all she owned in the world, because the alabaster faerie was the only one left.