Sabrina+F

=**__Smells Like Red__**= By Sabrina Friesen

Not a map; I know.

Dedicated to my best friend and dinguin innocence for giving me inspiration while I struggled to write this.

Please excuse the laziness of the pictures.

__Screaming Silence__
An all-consuming hush presses in on me from all sides as I sit, hunched over and stone-still, listening for something I can’t identify. It’s much too silent. Such an irksome quiet. There was wonderful noise before. Screaming, gasping, sobbing, the tremendous groan of a failing engine. The sounds should still be tearing at my ears. Either that or I should be dead. Experimentally, I wriggle my toes and lift my arms to make sure I can move. Something is pressing down on my back. I first try to push it away, but its weight holds it firm. Holding my breath, I slither to the floor and crawl away from my seat, something dry and vaguely tacky crackling on my shoulder. I numbly note the pain rippling throughout my body but choose to ignore it. In an attempt to figure out the situation, I slowly push myself to my feet, using the seating on either side of me for support. I immediately choke on a thick, acrid smoke and fall back to the floor, eyes streaming and lungs desperately forcing out the fumes. As soon as I regain my breath and my head stops spinning, I look around without lifting my head more than a few inches from the floor. From the slightly opened door to the cockpit, a flicker of orange light pumps out the noxious vapor above me. I realize the mass that was on my back had likely saved my life by preventing me from lifting my head and breathing in the deadly poison. Though the cabin is unlit, the filtered light from the small windows is sufficient to show me that I am the only living thing left on the plane. However, several of the seats are void of any passenger, meaning some of the others must have escaped while I was unconscious. If they got out, I can too. That thought drives me to move, crawling towards where the flight attendant told us the closest exit was. The door is open and the emergency chute deployed, further confirming my thoughts of other survivors. Suddenly conscious of broken skin and bruises, I cling precariously to the violently yellow chute and ease myself down, eyes protesting against the light mercilessly assaulting them. At the bottom, my toes dip unsurely into the salty water below them. Between me and the shore is a fair length of ocean, the plane apparently landing in water just shallow enough to keep from sinking completely. Despite myself, I think of how flooded the luggage compartment must be and bite my lip at how ruined all my things must be. Scowling, I try to collect myself and gauge the distance between me and the sandy shore. I have never been a strong swimmer and the waves methodically raising and lowering my rubber perch are unfriendly and wordlessly whisper stories of people much fitter than myself being dragged under and crushed in merciless, watery depths. However, I have no choice but to dive in or slowly waste away in the metallic wreckage, so, at the height of a swell, I slip in and let the wave’s momentum carry me a couple metres closer to the beach. Instantly, I feel myself sinking, salt stabbing into unknown wounds and all but paralyzing my limbs. Blinded, disoriented, and in pain, I thrash out helplessly until my feet scrape the bottom. With all of my strength, I kick down against the sand and flounder towards the glittering roof of sunlight. My face breaks the surface and I frantically gasp for air, trying not to choke on the water splashing down my throat. The sea rushing thunderously in my ears, I swim towards the glimmer of sand I see between waves. Finally, my feet find sand and I stagger forward until, exhausted, I keel over onto dry land. Coughing out mouthfuls of thick water, I gasp and pant for breath. Though my lungs still scream at the abuse, I force myself to my feet as soon as I’ve caught my breath and inspect my surroundings. The beach is long and narrow against the ocean, quickly segueing into a dense, leafy forest. My eyes follow the shore for a length until a distant thread of sapphire blue interrupts the monotony, spouting from the foliage and joining the hungrily lapping waves. There is no sound aside from the gentle rush of leaves fluttering against each other in the light breeze and the ravenous maw of the ocean growling restlessly behind me. Such a terrible, infuriating silence. I push myself into moving forward, intruding the mottled green sanctuary of trees. The awful hush follows my every step, urging me to go faster and faster until I am sprinting recklessly between the unfriendly brown trunks. Though my feet slip and I nearly fall several times, I don’t stop until the trees fall away, jagged rocks replacing them. Sounds echo out of the darkest shadow among them. Desperately, I clamber over them towards the noises, heedless of the scrapes I pick up along the way. Strange voices press against me the instant I find myself in what appears to be a bright, spacious cave. “Someone else survived!” “Oh, thank God!” “With so many people, we’re sure to survive!” “Are you okay?” “You’re covered in blood!” Yet again, I fall to my knees. The ruckus they make at my arrival echoes against the stone walls surrounding us and amplifies the racket beyond the point I can stand. Strange bodies rush around me, grabbing at my arms and prodding at open wounds. To keep myself from screaming, I bite down on my tongue. This is worse than the silence. People, clamor, questions. That was why I left home. And now I’m trapped in it. Survival, rescue. Food, fire. Shelter, boats. I don’t care about what the others seem so concerned about. I want them to leave. That dreadful, maddening silence would be preferable to this human contact. “Are you okay?” Fuck off. //"With all of my strength, I kick down against the sand and flounder towards the glittering roof of sunlight."//

**__Chapter 2__**

__True Nature__
Life is a delicate balance right now, teetering on a fine rope between sanity and death. I gently run my palm over a rough tree trunk, scarred with eight evenly spaced gouges, and use the knife someone salvaged when escaping the plane to slice a ninth mark. Nine days. Each of them has been a struggle. With a long sigh, I let myself flop down on the hard earth and lay on my back to watch the sky gradually darken between the leaves above me. It’s no wonder this island was uninhabited. Because it’s so small, there’s a severe lack of variety in the edible plants and very few animals, much less prey animals. The only meat we’ve managed to catch has been a few slow, unlucky birds and a strange kind of fish that has made the girl who ate it extremely sick. Humorlessly, I laugh to myself as thoughts of turned-down meals before I went on this stupid trip consume me. At these thoughts, though, my hunger-tightened stomach growls mutedly like a starved, muzzled dog. We’re lucky enough to have a clean, clear spring of fresh water on this island, but tasteless liquid is hardly satisfying when your damnable tongue still remembers the taste of those salty, fat-laden fries you ate before going to the airport. Purple twilight hanging in the shadows between the trees, I push myself to my feet and idly play with the blade between my fingers. I should get back to the cave before it gets too dark, or they’ll come out and look for me. What terrible noise they make when on their merry little searches. Maybe there were other animals on the island before their ruckus came and scared everything off. Another unamused smile breaks across my face. Hundreds of potentially edible deer swimming away from this tiny island to escape noisy humans? A likely story. At one point I think I would have found that highly entertaining, but I’m not so sure. Even though it’s only been just over a week, it’s hard to believe there’s ever been anything aside from the island. Then again, I’ve always had trouble keeping in touch with reality. My feet, which protest dully at the roughness of the soil, slowly carry me back to the centre of the island where the cave is. I don’t exactly enjoy having to share a rather small living space with complete strangers, but I don’t have much of a choice what with them being paranoid and insisting we had to stay together. Why was that, again? I get the feeling they told me why we should “stick together,” but I cannot remember why it was. Reaching the rocks, I don’t hesitate before climbing unwillingly towards the sound of voices behind them. Something dangerous on the island? I think that was it. Probably an animal. A snake? That sounds right. Oh, I remember now. That girl shrieked so loud I heard her halfway across the island. //That// thought amuses me, and I can’t help a grin twitch across my face. As usual, a series of pointless greetings slam against my ears as soon as I come into their view, all of which I ignore, and, instead, curl myself as small as possible in the darkest corner I can find. Somewhat predictably, they still haven’t quite gotten the hang of //not// talking to me yet, so I need to take every opportunity to discourage them. On a normal night, they’ll chatter for an extensive amount of time and I’ll feel like screaming long before they’ve even hinted that they’re going to sleep; however, they seem unusually tired tonight and soon start murmuring sleepy “good night’s” to each other and trudging towards to their individual corners. Interested in this odd sequence of events, I get up and start slowly pacing the length of the cave once they’re safely asleep to see if I can find out why they’re suddenly tired. It doesn’t take me log to locate a row of long sticks, each sharpened at one end. I guess they must have been making these all day. That’s silly. What is a bunch of clumsily hand-made spears supposed to do? Are they supposed to be for the snake? Considering the supposed intelligence and resourcefulness of humans, you’d expect these people to do something more productive with their time. Like maybe making a bow and some arrows or something. That sounds much more useful for hunting, after all. Angrily, my stomach growls again, so, rather than continuing to ponder the intellect of my fellow castaways, I pick up one of the makeshift spears and leave the cave again. I’d might as well make use of their hard work. A low laugh bubbles crazily out of my mouth as I clamber back over the rocks towards the fruit trees. At least I have one thing to thank them for: I haven't had a reason to laugh so hard in a long time. Reaching the desired trees, I lift the pointed stick to try to poke down some of the swollen fruit. Dim starlight my only guide, I have succeed with only a couple when I am suddenly interrupted by the sound of something dry rustling over the compact earth. Startled, I tighten my grip on my improvised spear, jumping into a sort of fighting stance, and look around sharply for the source of the noise. My eyes settle on something glimmering slightly in the dim light and I feel myself start to relax. Cautiously, I place the stick on the ground and slowly get onto my knees. A pair of softly glowing yellow eyes lift slowly off the ground accompanied by a low, threatening hissing. I laugh quietly. “Hello there, sir,” I murmur gently. “Sorry I bothered you.” Considering the fact I rarely speak a handful of words to the other people on this island, it feels nice to have a chance to talk to this beautiful creature. The snake lifts its head further, continuing to hiss and bobbing its head around in an attempt to gauge the danger level. I tilt my head slightly at its behavior. “Is something the matter, sir?” I ask. “I imagine you probably haven’t run into many humans before we got here, so why are you frightened of me?” As it moves, I catch a glimpse of red shimmering on its pale green length, and a gasp escapes my mouth. “You’re hurt!” It hisses again at my suddenly loud voice, baring long, gleaming fangs with a drop of clear venom clinging precariously to each pointed tip. Realization floods me like a wave over the shore. “//They// did this to you!” My hand clench against the ground, digging soil underneath my fingernails. “So what if you’re venomous? That’s no reason to try to kill you. Just because you need to eat.” In response to my lowered voice, it seems to start relaxing slightly, allowing its head to rest against the ground again. My shoulders hunch over with pure rage and I feel myself as tight as a steel spring. “Why? Wherever they go, humans do nothing but cause damage simply because they are afraid of the unknown.” A series of old memories flash through my mind: the harsh screech of teasing rushing through my ears and rending incurable scars along my mind; the entire world seeming to blur and darken into shades of grey while I’m left behind yet again; the bitter taste as my tears flood over my face and even invade my mouth; the pain of something unpleasantly sharp against me for speaking out; the distinctive metallic, salty, yet somehow sweet smell of my own lifeblood leaving the body it once supported. I was going to escape that, but it followed me here to this tiny island. “Don’t worry, sir,” I gasp, realizing my face has become wet for some reason, “They won’t get away with this. I won’t let them.” //"A pair of softly glowing yellow eyes lift slowly off the ground accompanied by a low, threatening hissing."//

**__Chapter 3__**

__Empty Bruise__
“Do you like blue?” I ask quietly, tracing the smooth, cool handle of the knife with my fingernail. “It’s my second favourite colour. Right behind red.” Careful not to disturb the careful placement of my surroundings, I stand and look at the moon above me. “You know, I have this weird memory from when I was very young...I thought the moon was blood red one night.” A child-like laugh hiccoughs out of my chest. “It made me so happy that I threw off my jacket and shoes and danced in circles right in the middle of the street. It was very cold that night. My hands and feet turned completely blue and I couldn’t feel a thing. I think that’s the day I started loving the colour blue. Don’t you?” With a friendly smile, I kneel back beside the body splayed on the ground, surrounded by the fruit it had been carrying. Blank, lifeless eyes stare past me. “I suppose you must love red, too,” I guess, gripping my knife again and pulling it out of the pale, unprotesting flesh. “You are completely full of that wonderful colour, after all.” Sighing, I stand back up. “Thank you for listening, but I have some stuff I have to do.” I again avoid bumping into the things scattered around the scene as I leave the area, a set destination in mind. Thoughtfully, I lick the length of the blade, cleaning it of its shimmering coat of blood. I must admit that I never knew humans were //that// full of red. I knew it was in there, but I thought there was a limit. The circle staining the girl’s shirt just kept growing and growing, though. I think I might actually like humans now. But only when they’re quiet. Starlight illuminating my path, I dance towards the cave on uncharacteristically light feet. I delicately grip the knife between my lips while I clamber over the unyielding rocks to get to the cave. Humans are also also extremely predictable. Always follow set schedules. I like that about them, too. As I easily predicted, the girl in the cave looks up at my arrival. “Hello,” she greets in a friendly voice. Her eyes fall on the knife as I remove it from my mouth so I can grin at her properly. Immediately, her amicable expression falters and falls away. “What’s that?” she asks quietly, a tinge of something akin to fear spreading over her face. Merrily, I skip up to her and grab the front of her ragged, dirty shirt. “Hello. I don’t believe I’ve ever properly introduced myself.” In a single, swift motion, I pick her up off the ground by her shirt and place her on her feet. “I don’t care for the name my parents gave me, so I just call myself Ren, and I would like you to do the same, okay?” She gasps and splutters in my grip, seeming incapable of responding. My lips twist into a frown and I poke her several times in the forehead with my knife. “Hey, I’ve asked you a question; I would appreciate it if you answer me.” A slight cry bursts out of her mouth as a few thin streams of vermilion liquid drip down her face, and one touches the corners of one of her eyes, dying it a colour just paler than red. “Wh-what are you doing?” she exclaims, voice becoming high-pitched and strained. “Answer my question!” I shout, muscles growing tense. Rude. Humans are so rude. As if she can’t hear me, she starts writhing in my grasp, grabbing desperately at my arm still holding her. “Answer it!” My right hand lifts and frustratedly plunges the blade it grasps deep into the muscle of her shoulder. Her left arm grows stiff and drops to her side the same instant an ear-piercing shriek tears from her mouth. “Let me go! Let me go!” Words join her aimless squealing, repeating over and over. Redoubling its efforts, her right hand claws and scrabbles at my arm, desperate for freedom. Leaving the knife embedded in her shoulder, I use my now free hand to cover my ear. “My, you do make a racket don’t you? That other girl was so much quieter. The again, she wasn’t being rude so I didn’t have to hurt her that much. You, on the other hand...” A long, helpless sigh escapes me as I remove my hand from my ear. “Well, I think you just need to shut up.” I neatly yank the knife out of her shoulder and change its deadly angle, pointing the tip square at her chin from below. Hoping the action will shut her up and end that annoying, seemingly endless bawling, I push the blade up into the softness under her chin until the handle forbid it from going any further. Abruptly, her formerly constant and unwavering wailing gives way to a low, strangled gurgling. Her throat, chest, and face start twitching, contorting, seeking some way to express the violence without words. I let go of her shirt and she crumples against the ground. As her right hand reaches up to the hilt of the blade, I quickly step on it to stop her effort. “Nu-uh!” I sing happily. “I like this! I didn’t know humans could make noises like this! This is better than anything I’ve heard before! I wish I could listen to it forever!” I lean down closer to her level and grin. “Too bad you’ll bleed out before then, no?” I quickly look around the cave and locate one of the makeshift spears within my reach and grab it. “Hey! This could be good! We don’t want you taking that knife out. After all you’d bleed out faster, then.” I easily break off a piece, including the semi-sharpened tip, about a foot long then step off of her hand. “Be a good girl, now,” I command lightly, picking up her hand and driving the splintered wood through the palm. A thin, gurgling shriek bubbles out of her mouth in crimson globules. I stare, fascinated, as her eyes glaze over and turn dull and glassy, not quite dead but not exactly alive either. “Call me Ren,” I say again. “It means lotus. Isn’t that pretty?” She moans faintly, her chest movements barely visible now. Lifting my hands closer to my face, I inspect the gorgeous shade of scarlet staining my fingers and dripping viscously down to my elbow. “Red lotus,” I murmur quietly, more to myself than her. A broad smile breaks across my face. “Did you know that red lotuses are symbols of love and passion?” I laugh. “No, I imagine you didn’t. Sorry to be rude, but I have to leave you for now. There is one more of us, yes? I have to go see to her as well.” After a moment of thought, I pick up the splintered remains of the spear. “Stay well!” * I quietly hum a sing from some long-forgotten memory as I settle comfortably against the wall of the cave. “Greedy, greedy humans,” I tell the girl still gurgling beside me. “I had to keep breaking off more and more pieces of the spear. It took all of them in her face at once to get her to finally shut up.” Smiling faintly, I look towards the entrance to the cave and see a thin stream glittering emerald making its way through the haphazardly strewn rocks. “Hello, sir,” I greet politely. “Did you come to listen to the music as well?” As if I hadn’t spoken, he slithers to the opposite side of the fire as me. I laugh. “I suppose you must just be cold. That’s okay. I understand.” I take in a deep, wonderfully metallic-scented breath of air. “They won’t hunt you down anymore. That must make you happy. I know it does me. And I won’t go hungry for a time either.” As I turn my face to the small peek of open sky again, my eyes are greeted with a surprise: a blood-red moon //"Blank, lifeless eyes stare past me."//