Short story - mirror of pain

Her mother greeted her, avoiding at all costs looking upon her eldest daughter’s beaten face. “Are you hungry? I’ll make you some eggs…”“No, thank you Mum. I couldn’t eat. My jaw is sore.”Her mother winced. After a Moment of uncomfortable silence she tried to explain. “I’m sorry, Baby, I couldn’t stop your father, he – he was drunk, you know? And I’ve got Ophelia to worry about too. Maybe if you just try and be a better little girl…”Andrea sighed, knowing better than to argue. She wouldn’t win. She never does. She didn’t know how she was a naughty child; her seven-year-old mind knew of no better compliance to her father’s rules than what she practiced. If he summoned her to fulfil a wish of his such as fetching a beer or sandwich, she would do so without any form of complaint. In fact, she was the most acquiescent and obedient girl in her whole school. That is, her former school. When abuse marks began to appear, incredulous teachers began asking questions. Her parents, fearing someone would take appropriate action and call child services, began to home school Andrea. She cast her eyes down at the tiled floor. “Yes, mother,” She said inaudibly and proceeded toward the refrigerator to pour for herself a glass of chocolate milk. For weeks Andrea’s life played out routinely, and she would always shrink in trepidation back into the comfort of the moors after a flogging. She soon named the lake surrounded by the trees the “Ring of Relief” with regards to the sentiment of liberation she received just by being there. Assuming a position of royalty and presiding over the rest of the pack was the tallest and mightiest of the trees, the one against which Andrea always nestled. It was different from the others, but agreeably so. Its bark took on a paler colour, revealing its age. This tree, she found, offered her the greatest amount of consolation and it became to her the equivalent of a best friend. Every time Andrea visited this mighty tree, she would open her heart to it and unveil the secrets of her life. In a beseeching bellow, she would both cry and pray for help.On one particular day, Andrea visited the moors, as she habitually did, and sat by the lake directly in front of the large tree with a fallen twig from one of the branches in her hand. She had never before touched the lake, or any of the lily pads covering it. The action of disturbing the stillness of the ancient water seemed so foreboding, but on this very day it occurred to the little girl that she had never before seen an ounce of the liquid due to the fact that it was blanketed by the opaqueness of the tightly collected lily pads. Andrea sat quiet and immobile for the better part of an hour, debating with herself whether or not she should break the connection of two lily pads to catch a glimpse into the ever-concealed water. Finally, after deciding that one look wouldn’t hurt, she stretched out her small hand towards one of the lily pads and, with the twig, coerced it cautiously out of the way, breaching the union of the foliage and creating a wave throughout the entire lake. Awestruck, the child leaned forward over the water and stared in. Ironically, she saw no reflection of her own beaten and bruised face, but only that of the mighty tree behind her. She cocked her head in wonder. Suddenly and without warning the reflection in the water seemed to erupt in a blow of fire, and in the water she saw the high branches of the tree combust and become swallowed by the potent mouth of orange and red flames. Andrea gawked in dismay, her black eyes highlighted in terror, and a guise of dread layered her face. Her eyes were locked onto the image of her beloved tree and she screamed, petrified. The brilliant colours of the inferno so harshly interrupted the usual dreary gray of the world in the moors that she tried with all her vigour to shut her eyes and make the horrible image before her non-existent. As this image played out before her, she heard an outlandish noise being exerted from the great tree in the wind behind her. She felt the heat furnished by the reflection in the water in a startling abundance and sweat began to roll down her forehead. All the while the lily pads drifted gradually and eagerly together again and consumed the gap, reforming their accustomed bond. Andrea stumbled backwards and stood up in fright, whipping her gaze in the direction of the mighty tree. As abruptly as it commenced, the moors became still and the gloomy tranquillity of the area was again corroborated by the customary gray colour absorbed by every tree and cloud, as well as the backdrop of the mountains. Andrea’s body suddenly became aware of the icy temperature and she shivered, still looking in disbelief at her tree that she would swear was just a Moment ago engulfed in flames. Andrea walked distractedly back to her home, thinking only of the previous occurrence. She felt something strange contained within her, as if a new awareness was implanted in her mind or soul without her knowledge. She pondered this thought intently but as she neared the door of the middleclass abode, she noticed a broken bottle out on the well-kept porch and recoiled in fear. She heard her father’s angry voice inside as she timidly stepped through the front door and attempted to slip into her room. “There you are!” he bellowed when he saw her. “Do you have any idea what time it is, Andrea Jane? Any? Answer me!”Her voice trembled as she faced her father, red with anger. “Yes, father,” she started, glancing at the clock. “It isn’t but 8:30,” she began to weep in fright, “my bedtime is at nine. I am home in time.” “What did you say?” he roared, backing her into a corner, yelling obscenities at the child. He took a large gulp of his beer before raising his hand high into the air and slapping her solidly across the face. The blow knocked Andrea onto the carpeted floor and out of the corner of her eye she witnessed her mother retreat into the bathroom with little Ophelia and shut the door for protection. “Daddy,” she tried to apologize, and he hit her again.“Shut up!” he screamed in rage, “Shut up!” he kicked her on the ground, listening to her scream in anguish. “Get in your room, you hear? Get!” he hollered, and walked away, bottle in hand. For a week Andrea did not return to the Ring of Relief, solely due to the fact that she was too sore to walk the necessary twenty minutes to get there. During all of this time, though, she had been burning with curiosity about what she witnessed and waited impatiently for the time when she would go back. The day that she was so anxiously awaiting came about on the very date of her eighth birthday. She skipped enthusiastically to greet her dear tree again and wrap her little arms around its colossal trunk. Andrea found the moors and the Ring of Relief exactly how it was when she was last there. “It is,” she whispered merrily, “as if it is stuck in one Moment in time.” Even the powerful wind that swept like a wildfire through the area was incapable of swaying the trees or shifting the inert position of the lily pads on the lake. For once happy and calmed, Andrea situated herself comfortably against her tree. She stayed there joyfully for about an hour unceasingly and incredulously gaping at the water. “I wonder,” she thought to herself. Using the root of the tree to hoist herself up, she crawled once again towards the immobile body of water. Recovering another twig from the ground, Andrea decided to find out if the same thing that took place the last time would happen subsequently. With caution and a primed position, Andrea moved the same lily pad away from its adjacent partner. The surface of the water rippled lightly and she looked intently into the gap that she had produced. Sure enough, the reflection of the old, mighty tree was the only one in attendance in the water. Andrea waited, gripping the small twig apprehensively. In the very Moment after she exposed the mirror image of the tree, she witnessed the combustion of flames, and the tree became crowned with fire. Andrea felt the extreme heat and began to sweat once more. The tree groaned wildly in the background. She was compelled into a mesmerized stare and felt an overwhelming sense of urgency growing inside of her like a fire being fed with dry wood. In an unexpected surge of bravery, the little girl reached forward and immersed the tip of her finger in the water. “Ouch!” she shrieked in pain and cast herself backwards away from the water, nursing her sweltering finger in her mouth. The water was hot. Her heart was beating rapidly as she looked fearfully between the water and the tree. What was going on? Then from behind her she heard a twig crack under the weight of someone’s foot and she whipped around in alarm to confront whoever was in the hind of her. “Hello.” Laura FordArchbishop Blanch CE High School