Mary Hull
Young adult
Eyes from Heaven
I’ll make death love me; for I will contend
Even with his pestilent scythe.
-Anthony and Cleopatra
Preface
Some will discover their true love during their existence on earth. Others may never embrace it with death overcoming them in the end.
In the depths of my dreams I was overpowered by a stronger force taking charge of my destiny and soul. For after we came face to face the essence behind my dreams was unveiled.
When you walk through darkness, how will you find your way?
Chapter 1: Neighbor
The sound of the moving truck awoke me from a restless sleep, one of many since that day in May. Thunder had brought upon a heavy rain, surprising for the month of September, but I awoke to sunlight streaming in through my curtains. I swung my legs out of my bed and walked to my window.
The house next door had been empty for one month since the previous owner, Mr. Culling, a widower in his eighties, had passed away.
Two men, wearing blue uniforms, were unloading boxes from the moving truck parked in the driveway
“Please be careful with those boxes!”
The voice came from one of the upstairs windows directly across from my bedroom. My eyes came upon a boy who didn’t appear much older than myself.
“Thanks, just put the rest in there!” he said, pointing to the detached garage on the side of the house.
To my surprise, he suddenly turned, looking directly at me. I took a step back, my face now concealed behind the white curtain. I wonder if he saw me staring. The only thing separating our houses was the long driveway leading to the garage.
My curiosity stirred, I peeked from the side of the curtain but he was gone. Was he going to live in that enormous house by himself?
I was startled by the loud buzz from my alarm clock. Glancing at the clock, I sighed. School didn’t start for another hour but if I didn’t show up for the meeting the repercussion from mom would be endless.
As I turned to walk into the bathroom my eyes fell upon the small black box perched on my dresser. I must have forgotten to put it back, I thought as my fingers traced the box. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had looked at the contents inside. And so I opened it once more and stared at the mirror image of myself. The same fair skin, green eyes and honey colored hair. The picture was taken in March, two months before the accident.
I jumped at the hard knock on my bedroom door.
“Lily! Are you up yet?”
As my mom walked into the room I tried shoving the box back into the drawer and in my hurry my fingers got caught in the hinge. I pursed my lips, trying to conceal the throbbing sensation.
“I was just going in the shower,” I said, my hand reaching for the door. Please don’t ask about the box, I thought.
She eyed me with her brows lifted. “May I ask what you are doing?”
Why did she feel the need to question everything?
“Nothing, I was just…” I said.
“My dear,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Surely you’re not trying to skip your first day of school are you?”
I tried to look her straight in the eyes but of course I had never been good at keeping things from her. “No, mom,” I said looking away, “It was an accident.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said, reaching over to hug me. “Don’t forget to wear some mascara. Our eyes are the windows to our soul.”
I remained quiet, waiting for her to leave the room.
Here we go again, I thought as I stepped into the shower, the hot water beginning to penetrate my skin. My overprotective mother, assuming she knew her daughter so well.
I realized I had been standing under the hot water for quite some time, for my skin felt like rubber. After drying off I decided to wear khaki pants and a pink blouse. My mom had made it a point to remind me that I was too beautiful to ever choose to dress like a tomboy and growing up I had come to enjoy feeling comfortable in nice clothing. Most of the girls my age I had come across in town were highly fashionable in their taste of clothing and surely I didn’t want to look like an outsider. Even though I totally feel like one, I thought staring at my appearance in the mirror.
My mom was rinsing her coffee mug when I walked into the kitchen. “There’s orange juice and bagels on the table,” she said, eyeing my outfit. Somehow I sensed that the smile on her face meant she approved.
She kissed my forehead before heading out the door. “Oh, and for the sake of my career’s reputation in town please try to be a bit outgoing and make new friends,” she added with a smile.
I didn’t reply, relieved that this one-sided conversation had come to an end. For now. I was more like dad, non-confrontational. My parents would call me their timid child. There was someone, though, who was uninhibited; eager to challenge everything. My brother, Ben.
I stepped outside where the sun’s bright rays welcomed me to my first day of eleventh grade at Meadowcreek High. I had been living in Meadowcreek for 3 months since my parent’s separated back in May. Although my dad, the president of a top newspaper, still lived in our house in Viewbridge, I declined in fear of leaving my mother alone.
As I crossed the intersection in front of the school, my steps faltered. Meadowcreek High appeared ready to engulf me. I had no choice but to endure what the next two years held for me.
“May I help you?” a soft voice asked.
“I have a meeting with Mrs. Cash,” I said hesitantly.
“This way please.” She smiled as she began to walk down the hall. “I’m the librarian, Mrs. Sanders.”
“Hello,” I said softly, trying not to stare at passing students. I felt like a stone wall that had been carved through, my past divulged to all. I had to relinquish in the mere fact that their scrutiny of me was merely a curiosity on their behalf. After all, I was the new girl and knew they would seize upon the interest of discovering the reason of my move to Meadowcreek. A reason I was not ready to reveal
We walked down a long hallway stopping in front of a door labeled Counseling Office. Mrs. Cash’s door was locked and I hesitated, looking over to Mrs. Sanders for some reaction.
“Go ahead and knock, dear,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said and gently knocked on the door.
“Yes, come in please,” a lady said.
Mrs. Cash stood up from her desk and smiled. “May I help you?”
“I’m Lily Casteel,” I said, handing her the letter from school confirming the appointment.
She scanned the note and smiled. “Welcome to Meadowcreek High, Lily. Please sit down.”
Feeling awkward, I sat perched at the edge of the chair.
