"They will bring
me storms and
I will drink the rain
and dance with the lightning.
I am no weak flower"
E. Van Vuren
"Stories evolve, like people" she remembered Sister Agatha say to her.. a vague memory, like a whisper she was straining to hear. "nothing ever stays the same, remember that Little One. If you stop evolving, you die. Energy cannot be stagnant.. you must always be willing to learn, grow and accept your mistakes." The smoke of her cigarette blew away slowly, as the humidity in the air felt thick and heavy. The sun shone, and she stood in the shade, her features half-hidden from passerby's by the shadows and her hair.
She had been welcomed in by the towns folk, but had also learned the hard way that not everyone would be receptive to everything she did or said. It was no matter. She would learn, grow and accept.
The knowledge that her last target had passed away before she could have her final revenge set her world upside down, and now she had to think about the next step, which, to be honest, she had no plan for.
The sea had been her answer once... she found so much solace in the sea. She had imagined how it would end, after the last kill, the last soul released to a hell she had seen on a nightly basis in the orphanage nights. She would fall into the icy water, letting her body sink, deeper and deeper, taking gulps of salty ice water, her last breath a gurgle... would she become a water spirit? Would they come for her?
But, deep down inside she knew that it was not the answer.
There was more to do. The mystery of Sister Agatha's diary still remained, with the missing pages, the odd, ancient language often scribbled in the margins and the cryptic entries about her piqued her imagination. There was more to this journey besides just revenge.
And who was she avenging anyway? Children who no longer remembered her? Friends from long ago whom she never saw again? Supernatural creatures who hid in the shadows, knowing humans would destroy them given the chance?
She sighed and took the last drag of her cigarette.
"those will kill you" she remembered the old gypsy saying to her when she was in the carnival.
"who said I wasn't already dead?" Vanessa had answered.