Scene Changer

Monday, July 10, 2006

Rhiannon: Chapter 3

As always, comments and questions are welcomed and encouraged.

Rhiannon: Chapter 3
Part of Rhiannon's mother wanted her father back. Rhiannon didn't know this. In fact, neither did her mother. She would mutter to herself about what a good life the three of them could have had if he had just stayed, while humming Rhiannon to sleep.

"Read me this one, mommmy," she chirped, dropping a heavy book on her mother's lap. Rhiannon's adult mind often flashed back to these broken pieces of her childhood during her trips. She used to try to analyse them, until she realised that they really meant nothing to her. At least, not anymore. These memories really served no purpose to her. As this hazy recollection passed, she took another couple of sips from the sticky, open bottle in her hand and exhaled, slowly. Where had she ended up? She distinctly recalled many nights where her mother would be unconscious, stinking of rotten booze, and terribly irate, upon waking up the next morning. Why did she remember this? Is this where she was destined to end up? Just the other night she had another one of those dreams. Her mother would call, concerned. "You really ought to see someone about those, you know," she'd say. What did she care? Rhiannon had never really been anything of real importance to her. She was always an inconvenience; a mouth to feed, a body to clothe. Rhiannon's feelings meant nothing, from the day she was born. Perhaps her mother just felt an obligation to check up on her. She took another sip.

"I've got to get out of here," she whispered, aloud. But where was here? And who was she talking to? She only had one really good friend, who was hardly ever around. Aside from that, she had no partner since high-school, and very few aqquaintances. She spent her whole life wondering where to fit in, and now she was nowhere. Just floating.
"You're tearing yourself apart, you know." A vision appeared in front of her. She looked exactly like her, but less tired. Youthful. A part of her former self. She took a puff from a cigarette that dangled from her fingers, and Rhiannon chuckled to herself. Even the healthy version smoked.

"You're killing yourself."
"I'm not.." she retorted to the face in the dark.
"You are. You've tried to do it, so many times. But the one time it's actually happening... you don't even know it." The vision laughed. "You're pathetic, you know that?" the vision puffed again. "Pathetic." The last word floated out as a whisper.
"Aren't you here to try and protect me, or something? Like.. save me from myself..?" It was the first thing she could think of. After all, that's how it always happened in the movies.
"Who said anything about protection? I may just be here to shock you back into reality. You don't even know who I am, let alone why I'm here." This vision was very smart.
"You're me. Me from--"
"I'm twenty. Look at me. Look at my skin, my hair, my teeth. I'm healthy. Hell, look at my rack!" The vision thrust her chest forward. Both of them had a good laugh, at that.
"I've just been drinking. You're in my head." She swigged again from the bottle and exhaled slowly. "I'm imagining you."
"You don't know that," the vision scoffed, smugly. "I could be real, for all you know. I could have broken the lock and let myself in. Real slick." She took another puff.
The thought processed in Rhiannon's drunken brain. Perhaps she did. Perhaps this was just a startling look-a-like. But then her logic piped in.
"Why aren't you taking my stuff then?" she asked with a dry smirk.
The vision just chuckled darkly and stood. "Keep up the drinking." She said, gesturing with the cigarette, before extinguishing it on the table.
"And why should I do that?" She clenched the arms of the chair as if she were going to get up, but stayed seated.
"How else could we have these lovely little chats, mm?" She smiled softly, and with a timid wave, was gone; cigarette butt and all.

Within minutes, Rhiannon had drifted off to one of her other worlds. Someplace where everyone knew her. Someplace where she wasn't drunk, or stoned, or pilled. Someplace without her mother, or visions of her younger self. Someplace where she was happy.
-L-

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