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Thursday, 23 July 2015

#DiaryOfTheHostage (The unfortunate Night - Andrew Sylvester) #CHAPTER 1


The breeze was mild on her face and she wanted more of it. Her desire for more brought her outside at about 11:15pm that fateful day. She wondered in the night; she did this often these days, since her dad is barely around to caution her stroll. He is often with his secret love; he wouldn't tell her - ''she wouldn't approve of it'' he once thought to himself.
The breeze must have been manipulated by that same spirit; the spirit that lured her mom on that night as this. A spirit manipulated to lure her for this course. It was too mild to have thought such danger her portion for the night. The wind was the kind you prayed for in one of those hot nights - she had her share but she was not contented with the minors that came through the windows of her room. She wanted something she would soon regret to have desired.
Her ears were driven from her present reality. She heard nothing of the actual world, but the sound of the music. It made her remember the moments she had with her mom. She no longer remembers her mom by her face but by the music they both once enjoyed their company by. She now listens to it every moment she feels distant from the memory she had of her mom -  she would soon regret ever missing her mom, for it brought her a memory she would try every moment of her life to forget.

It started to rain, and now she is quite far from home and would get drenched by the rain if she tried for her return. She tried, yes she did. she didn't want to be held in any corner - she dreads such corners, more so when it is as dark as this. She would remember every bit of this night. As she now lays in bed trying to forget every piece of the ceremony she was forcefully brought to attend.

She couldn't continue for home, so she stopped by a corner, the entrance to that street. The street that is dreaded by both the dead and the living. For the dead, they'd hear the cry of virgins as they are forcefully reaped by these ''farmers''; the ones that never planted but waited to harvest. She had no ears for news of this sort and so she felt safe in a place were danger was the echo that was usually heard by neighbours who had tales to tell but were afraid of its repercussion.

She sat on the floor and waited for it to stop raining.

...waiting ...you came around, you thought she was a manner from a god you never believed in. You reached for her hands but she didn't want to be helped. She wanted to be alone, but your lust would not let you allow her virgin soul to rest. You wanted a piece, any piece you could shred. She screamed but it rained heavily no one heard her cry. She thought you were going to do to her what she was birthed by... yes she isn't the daughter of her supposed dad... she didn't know her mom was raped in this very building either. This very building where she now think to find safety from.

You did not know she was your daughter. Her mom had left her at teenage-hood to find you and she would, one day. You thought she was a befitting candidate and so you wanted a piece of your own.You were that ignorant not to figure out the similarities: her eyes, here lips; as you forcefully planted kisses that, at every touch unraveled her fears before her now-crying eyes. You couldn't figure the semblance from her hair, even her voice didn't sound like yours to your ears because at that point you had brought her thighs to quiver, her knees to tremble; she no longer hears the sound of the music, even the moaning of your breathe she couldn't dance to any more... a suiting melody that she would only remember as the beats she is still unfamiliar with.

She still tries to remember the rhythm, for like her mom, she loves it. Your breathe were steady so much so it met the description her mom gave of her father....

More coming in the next chapter

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