Elaine's Perfect Day by Anonymous (pg

By Anonymous

The first thing I know are the branches of the oak tree. Long and luring, steady and certain. Next, it’s the sunlight, finding its way through the twisting branches and fluttering leaves. Finding its way through all those obstacles to shine its warmth upon my face.

“Elaine!” a merry voice calls.

I smile sleepily and push myself up from where I lie on the grass at the foot of the tree. A girl is waving ecstatically at me, her brown hair the precise colour of the tangle of roots I use as a pillow.

“Elaine, come on!” The girl gestures at me furiously.

“I’m coming!” I laugh. I scramble to my feet and skip down the small hill, letting my hands brush the violets as I pass, stirring butterflies in my wake that flit and flutter in the sunny day.

“We’re going to be late,” the girl, Violet, scolds in a playful manner.

I take her hand as I approach and slow to a walk, letting our linked arms swing beside us. “I know, I know.”

The path to the school is a storybook trail that winds through a quiet and friendly forest. As we walk, hand in hand, I tilt my head back and inhale the sweet-smelling autumn breeze. I sigh and smile at the memories of…

The trees around us are sprinkles of red and gold—a mosaic of colours as well as sounds, from the rustling of the leaves to the chitter of the chipmunk.

Everything is so beautiful, so splendid. “I am perfectly content,” I tell Violet in a sing-song voice.

She smiles at me sadly. “Me too.”

The vibrant sound of laughter and playful shrieking announce that we are nearing the schoolhouse. A bubbly feeling brews in my belly, and I pick up into a run towards the little building, dragging a giggling Violet behind me.

The schoolhouse is small and nostalgic, filled with the sounds of chattering children and clattering cupboards. Inside, there are two rows of tables with a walkway between them, as well as a large chalkboard at the front and a small stove in the corner to warm the room. Violet and I select seats in the front row and turn our attention to the board.

As I prepare my pencils and books for the lesson, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I turn to face a willowy girl with sunken, pale skin and dark eyes. I frown at her, but she smiles at me.

“Elaine, it’s me… Aleta.”

I break into a grin. “Hi, Aleta, how have you been?”

Aleta does not grin back. She seizes my wrist and squeezes it tightly. “Elaine, I need you to meet me after school. I have something important to tell you.”

Her unrelenting grip is beginning to hurt. I place my hand over hers and give her a reassuring look. “I’ll be there,” I tell her, as confidently as I can.

Excruciatingly slowly, Aleta releases my arm and retreats like a cautious cat. I turn back to face the board. As the teacher smiles broadly at the class and introduces himself, I see Violet watching me intently out of the corner of my eye. When I glance at her, she looks away.

“Welcome to the start of fifth grade, everyone!”

The class cheers. The teacher laughs and begins to write the day’s lesson plan on the chalkboard.

I wonder what Aleta wants to talk about. Just as this thought pops into my head, the bell rings.

“Follow me.” Aleta hisses into my ear.

She does not wait for me to follow her. Instead, she watches me get up from my table, then grabs my arm and steers me out of the schoolhouse, as if afraid that I might try to run away.

I feel another hand close around my other arm: Violet.

They lead me out through the field, towards the forest on the other side. I look behind me and watch the schoolhouse fade into the background, growing smaller and smaller until it ceases to exist.

“Where are we going?” I murmur.

Aleta and Violet begin to giggle eerily. “To the forest, silly,” they say in unison.

The closer we get to the forest, the stronger my urge becomes to turn and flee —for this forest is most unlike the fantastical one through which the path to school winds. In this forest, even the air is different: heavier. This is not a dreamy woods; it is the type of woods that fills you with a sickening feeling that seems to claw its way past your skin and bones and wrap itself around your very heart.

“Can we go back?” I breathe, seeing the bordering trees of the forest tower higher and higher above me as we draw near the entrance.

Aleta and Violet only laugh, that same unsettling laugh from before.

As we enter, the sunlight disappears and the wind dies down, like we have walked into a void where all pleasant things are crushed into nothingness. I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid making eye contact with the writhing trees.

At last, we stop walking and I open my eyes. We are in a small clearing of tall, spindly trees. Aleta and Violet both sit down and wait for me to do the same.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, my voice an octave higher than usual.

Aleta and Violet exchange a glance. “Elaine, it’s time you know the truth.”

A chill runs up my spine. “The truth?” I ask, my mouth gone dry.

“That’s right.”

“Okay. What’s the truth?” I have to press my palms into my lap to prevent myself from shaking.

They exchange another glance. “Elaine, you already know the truth.”

I slowly shake my head. “No, I don’t.”

“Just think. Just look. Look at us, carefully.”

I look. And then I blink, because they are gone. Where Aleta and Violet once sat, there is only rock and moss.

“No,” I lean forward on my toes and wave my arm desperately through the air where they once sat. “No no no no no no no no.” I only realize that I am crying when a teardrop lands on my lap. I tilt my head back, searching for sunlight over the tops of the trees. But there is nothing. Only nothing.

Nothing. “No!”

The first thing I know are the branches of the oak tree. Long and luring, steady and certain. Next, it’s the sunlight finding its way through the twisting branches and fluttering leaves. Finding its way through all those obstacles to shine its warmth upon my face.

I smile sleepily and push myself up from where I lie on the grass at the foot of the tree. A girl is waving ecstatically at me, her yellow hair the exact colour of the sunlight I saw in a dream.

“Elaine, come on!” the girl screams.

“I’m coming!” I laugh. I skip down the small hill, letting my fingers brush the moss as I pass.

“We’re going to be late,” Moss snarls at me.

I take her hand as I approach and slow to a walk, letting our linked arms swing beside us. “I know, I know.”

The path to the school is a haunting trail that winds through a frightening forest. As we walk, hand in hand, I shiver, and try to keep my gaze on my shoes.

The sound of laughter and screaming announce that we are nearing the school. Glad to be almost out of the eerie woods, I break into a run, pulling Moss behind me.

We break through the doors of the little building and take our seats in the front row. As I prepare my pencils and books for the lesson, I feel a sharp pain on my shoulder. I turn to face an oddly familiar girl. When the girl smiles, her name suddenly clicks into my brain.

I break into a grin. “Hi, Rock, how have you been?”

Rock shoots Moss an intense look. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Moss discretely nod. “Elaine,” Rock says, “You need to come with us. Now.”

I glance towards the teacher, who is making his way towards the centre of the room to introduce himself. “But lessons are going to start soon!”

Rock and Moss do not listen. They each grab hold of one of my wrists, and then we are moving. Moving at a highly unnatural speed. Wind is blowing through my hair, and I am confused. Perhaps I have always been confused.

Before I am really aware of what is happening, we are back in the clearing of the trees. Rock and Moss sit before me, watching me intently.

I have never been here before. I have never been here before. I have never been here before. I have never been here before.

“Do you remember this place, Elaine?” Moss asks tentatively.

“NO.”

“You’ve been here before,” Rock insists, in a much harsher tone. “Think, Elaine. Think.”

“I’ve thought, and I am certain that I have never been here before.”

They do not continue to pester me. “Tell us the truth, Elaine.”

“I don’t know the truth.”

“Yes, you do.”

Yes, I do. “Neither of you are real,” I say in a sudden revelation. And just like that, they are gone.

“Correct.” I say, making myself jump, as if I had not initiated that thought. “But there’s more to it,” I say again.

Stop. I think, as my mouth has fallen victim to my mind. Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop.

“I know the truth.”

Funny how a word, when repeated so many times, loses its meaning.

The first thing I know are the branches of the oak tree. Long and luring, steady and certain. Next, it’s the sunlight finding its way through the twisting branches and fluttering leaves. Finding its way through all those obstacles to shine its warmth upon my face.

“Elaine!” a voice calls. I jolt up to see a girl with brown hair waving at me. She is so familiarly unfamiliar that her very image fills me with dread. I do not know this girl—of this I am certain—but I do know that this is not a girl I should talk to.

“No!” I scream. I scramble to my feet and scamper down the opposite side of the hill, away from the girl. The wind picks up as I go, slamming into me like a solid wall and scattering my hair into twisting tendrils that whip furiously around my head. Something prickly scratches at my ankles and a roar from the clouds above announces a sudden shower of hail. I am scratched, messy and terrified. I risk a glance over my shoulder—the girl has not moved an inch.

Nevertheless, I keep running. I keep running through the forest and towards the schoolhouse when I see it in the distance. But I do not dare to go in when I see the sunken face of a girl with dark hair in the window, watching me. This girl is another I must avoid, my mind tells me.

And so I run. I run and run and run and run, and get nowhere. It becomes clear to me that no matter which direction I choose, I always circle back to the oak tree, and then back to the schoolhouse, where the two girls are always waiting and watching.

When I can no longer muster the energy to run, I sink to the ground at the foot of the oak tree and wail, for when I look up, there is no sunlight shining through its branches.

I do not have to look to know that Elaine and Elaine have arrived. Instead I keep my face hidden in the crook of my arm, and I sob for the absence of time.

“All things fade in the passage of time. All things, in turn, fall victim to oblivion,” Elaine sings.

“That’s the truth.”

At that moment, everything goes silent. At that moment, the sounds and smells of the world all vanish, as if they never were.

When I finally open my eyes, I see what I have tried so hard to blind myself to: nothing. There is nothing. Around me, nothing. Above me, nothing. Below me, nothing. Just an endless sea of nothingness from now until the end of time. And among this nothingness is me.

For I, too, am nothing.