Little Miss Wingless

Albeit she was miserable, Melanie’s first day of school was not as bad as she thought it was going to be. Being in a new town, in a new school, with unfamiliar teachers and peers had been daunting.

The classes were so different from her previous ones. The two-story building was a strange mixture of old and freshly renovated. Tall doorways held together with bowing wood frames, chairs were rickety while the desks they accompanied were pristine; having been recently replaced. The bare walls appeared freshly painted a queasy shade of mustard, while the once-white floors were heavily scuffed and worn. That choice in colour palette certainly did not inspire confidence.

The overall atmosphere of the school grounds was overwhelming as the bulk of students confidently went about their normal day. Initially the population gave the new kid a wide berth, and the stress of feeling isolated had Melanie feeling like crying many times.

By midday however, a little group of her new classmates did take notice and were surprisingly accepting and kind with her. She was invited to sit with them during lunch break and they even volunteered to share their textbooks that Melanie had not yet acquired.

Now the end of the day, Melanie grinned and giggled gleefully as she looked at the little beaded bracelet she had made during the class she decided was going to be her favourite; Arts And Crafts. Tied with bright red sting, it consisted of a rainbow of shiny beads shaped like flowers and hearts. The centre featured lettered little blocks that spelled out her name. She had failed to notice one of the “E”s was attached backwards and was very chuffed about her creation. She was especially excited to show her mother.

Melanie waved an appreciative goodbye to the group of girls who had looked out for her. With some luck, she hoped to become good friends with them soon. The new elementary school was literally across the road from Melanie’s new house, and it made her feel especially grown-up that she was able to walk all by herself to and from school. Her high piggy tails bounced as she proudly approached the crossing guard stationed at the school’s crosswalk.

“Well, hello little miss. Can I help you cross the road today?” The older gentleman, who could potentially be Santa Claus in disguise, chuckled as Melanie mulled over the thought.

“Yes please!” Melanie beamed back as she rocked in her slightly oversized sneakers.

“Alrighty, wait one moment.” The man in the yellow hi-viz vest instructed, while he lifted out his stop sign to halt the traffic. As the cars slowed to a stop he raised the shiny little whistle hanging around his neck up to his mouth.

As the high pitch tweet rang out and the crossing guard nodded an all clear, Melanie proceeded to cross.

“Thank you!” Melanie yelled to him, as she skipped to the other side. The strides in her steps along the pavement made the skirt of her new uniform flutter upwards, and left her feeling like a princess.

Melanie stopped in her driveway and stared at the man taking boxes out of her mother’s truck and stacking them into the garage. He hummed as he organised everything as best as he could. Occasionally he alternatively took things out of a box to hang or place in the metal shelving.

Melanie’s fingers clenched around her little bracelet so hard they hurt. Her happy mood suddenly soured, her face scrunching into a frown, as she remembered how unhappy she actually was with the current circumstances. After all, He had been the reason everything was changing and Melanie was forced to leave her school and friends behind. Along with the only home she’d ever known and loved so dearly.

Melanie looked up bitterly at the ‘new’ house. It had ugly shutters that stuck out over the windows, the driveway was a faded cracked grey, and the letterbox looked like a mound of ancient bricks. The garden was nothing like the beautiful one Melanie and her mother had worked so hard to maintain together at their previous home. The grass was long, full of weeds, and creeping over the pavement. Melanie was sure there was probably prickles all through it. Each room of the house felt strange and had an unhomely scent. And to top it off Phil, her new stepfather, apparently came in the package deal of despair.

Melanie had never actually had a dad. Her mother had been in a traumatic accident before she was born and it was not known who Melanie’s father actually was. Sometimes they would come up with stories together of the possibilities. Where he currently was, what had happened to him, or even what he looked like. Always fun, adventurous tales. Melanie’s mother had always insisted that she felt only good things when she looked at her daughter, and she couldn’t be prouder. So, regardless of whatever the truth was, she was thankful to him. And because of that Melanie was never sad. She and her mother had each other, and that was enough. They got through everything together and had never needed anyone else. Or so she had always thought.

Melanie felt a pit of sorrow in her stomach as she fastened her new bracelet to her wrist, hiding it under the sleeve of her sweater. The novelty of joy was gone as negative thoughts began to swirl in her mind instead. Maybe she truthfully hadn’t been enough? Maybe having Melanie for a daughter didn’t make her mother happy? Had she been a burden all along?

Melanie adjusted the weight of her massive backpack on her tiny shoulders and downcasted her eyes pitifully to the mildew-stained pavement.

When Melanie’s mother opened the front door, she smiled with relief as she spotted her daughter standing out the front of the home. She had always had beautiful long dark brown hair, a shade far darker than Melanie’s. But when they moved, her mother had decided to cut her hair back exceptionally short. And Melanie hated it. It made her look like a different person. Contrasting to all the happy and wonderful memories she and Melanie had made together. It made Melanie feel like her mother had also been left behind with everything else she loved.

“Mel! How was your first day, sweetheart?”

The sound of Melanie’s mothers' voice finally caused Phil to look up and notice Melanie. He was dark-haired and had scruffy stubble that ran down to his chin. His brown eyes lit up and he offered the girl a warm smile, but in response she scowled at him and stuck out her tongue in disgust.

“Melanie!” her mother scolded her. But Melanie ignored the pending reprimand and pushed past her parent in the doorway, stamping all the way up the stairs.

“It’s okay, Amiee.” Melanie heard Phil say before she slammed the door to her new room shut as loud as she could.

Melanie shrugged off her school backpack, which landed on the carpet with a thud. She leaned against the door for a moment before she kicked one of the many piled-high cardboard moving boxes. The room was currently cluttered with a mixture of her and her mothers’ things, and an array of her mother’s second-hand books tumbled out from the assaulted box. Some of which scattered under Melanie’s bed, still yet to be made. Amiee was a librarian, she had always been so, even before Melanie was born, and had a vast collection of classic and unique literature. Much of it was far too advanced for Melanie to read. But she loved the old fairy tales her mother had read to her at bed time.

Melanie wiped away her brewing tears as she bent down to organise the mess she had caused. This particular set of books appeared very old and most were in different languages, which normally would have held little interest to the young girl. But one particular book that she had retrieved from under the bed frame had piqued her interest.

It was raggedy, but a beautiful small journal. A pretty crimson jewel was embedded in the spine of the blue and purple cover, which had embroidered borders of gold. Melanie trailed her finger over the protruding details and as she opened it up there were little pops and cracks of the backstrip. The paper was a pretty pale peach colour, and upon the pages was dark delicate writing along with detailed sketches of plants and minerals. A thin purple ribbon booked marked one of the pages inked in writing that shimmered slightly in a fascinating gold. Melanie could never guess which language it was, but the curly symbols looked poetic. And the strangest thing still, was that the characters looked oddly familiar. Intrigued, she tried her best to pronounce the foreign words aloud.

But she soon regretted it.

As the last word left her lips, the air around her dropped cold and then alarmingly picked up in a strong gust. Her hair and clothing flapped violently and she held the cursed diary firmly against her chest. There were crackles of light engulfing all around her. Frightened, Melanie let out a scream as she felt herself falling backward and she was swallowed up by a consuming darkness.