Not All Monsters Get Along
Opal: The Death Speaker
I stared at my ceiling, a deep red, that matched my walls, with dozens of strings of beads and lights hung in a random crisscross pattern. When the lights were on, my room was dim, but the light would bounce off the beads, creating little spots of color all over the small room.
“Do they ever stop to let you breathe?” I looked over at Brandon, who was staring at me from my cluttered desk. The old oak had deep carvings in it, in a completely different language that I didn't understand. It looked like Latin, but I couldn't be sure.
“The mornings are all that I have. In the evenings I'm too exhausted to have a moment.”
He nodded and looked down at my desk. He had been in here countless times, yet each time he looked around as if it were a new place.
“When I was alive, I never would have dreamt of being in here,” he murmured and his eyes flicked up to meet mine. I scrunched up my face.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean in here, in your bedroom. If I had known you while I was alive.” I blushed and laughed nervously.
“No one knows me. I'm cooped up in here day and night,” I said, snorting. He smiled a little.
“I know you.” I blushed again.
“I meant no one that is alive knows me.”
“I know.”
Other than his wet hair and blue lips, there was no other bodily evidence of how he had died. I crossed my legs and propped my chin up on my hands, my elbows on my knees.
“How did you die?” My question caught him off guard as he went still and looked away from me. I usually didn't like knowing how they died, but Brandon made me curious.
“Opal, I don't-”
“Come on, we've known each other for 3 years, and you haven't shared, nor have I asked.” He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair, which flopped down in the same position as before.
“I-”
Knocking at my door made us both jump and I pretended to just be waking up as my mother poked her head in. Her hair was black, like mine, but streaked with gray. I looked like a younger, smalled, and skinnier version of her.
“We have a customer, Opal. Do you mind dressing and coming downstairs?” It wasn't a question or a suggestion. I nodded and she left, giving me about five mines to make myself presentable. I glanced at Brandon and he heaved a sigh.
“I'll tell you after you escape,” he promised and I pursed my lips.
“Fine,” I hissed and jumped out of bed. He turned his eyes away as I shamelessly changed in front of him.
When I was done, I opened my door and turned back. Just like always, he was nowhere to be seen as I got ready to start my day.
“Do they ever stop to let you breathe?” I looked over at Brandon, who was staring at me from my cluttered desk. The old oak had deep carvings in it, in a completely different language that I didn't understand. It looked like Latin, but I couldn't be sure.
“The mornings are all that I have. In the evenings I'm too exhausted to have a moment.”
He nodded and looked down at my desk. He had been in here countless times, yet each time he looked around as if it were a new place.
“When I was alive, I never would have dreamt of being in here,” he murmured and his eyes flicked up to meet mine. I scrunched up my face.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean in here, in your bedroom. If I had known you while I was alive.” I blushed and laughed nervously.
“No one knows me. I'm cooped up in here day and night,” I said, snorting. He smiled a little.
“I know you.” I blushed again.
“I meant no one that is alive knows me.”
“I know.”
Other than his wet hair and blue lips, there was no other bodily evidence of how he had died. I crossed my legs and propped my chin up on my hands, my elbows on my knees.
“How did you die?” My question caught him off guard as he went still and looked away from me. I usually didn't like knowing how they died, but Brandon made me curious.
“Opal, I don't-”
“Come on, we've known each other for 3 years, and you haven't shared, nor have I asked.” He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair, which flopped down in the same position as before.
“I-”
Knocking at my door made us both jump and I pretended to just be waking up as my mother poked her head in. Her hair was black, like mine, but streaked with gray. I looked like a younger, smalled, and skinnier version of her.
“We have a customer, Opal. Do you mind dressing and coming downstairs?” It wasn't a question or a suggestion. I nodded and she left, giving me about five mines to make myself presentable. I glanced at Brandon and he heaved a sigh.
“I'll tell you after you escape,” he promised and I pursed my lips.
“Fine,” I hissed and jumped out of bed. He turned his eyes away as I shamelessly changed in front of him.
When I was done, I opened my door and turned back. Just like always, he was nowhere to be seen as I got ready to start my day.