Strange First Impressions

It was high-noon when she came around. At the time we only knew each other by the pensive glances we gave when dragged around by our overly-vivacious parents. But it was to change today. I knew her from around already; she was of the high class families, the ones who owned the automobiles, and big houses. They acted like they were above our Lord. And for that, I was taught to despise her. It was all quite depressing really.

I sat upon a green little hill. The village was abundant with them. But this particular hill looked down upon half the village. This half of the village housed the forbidden Billiard place, the place that housed many good and many horrible memories. But they were MY memories, and it saddened me that I was reduced to looking from afar. It was during my little nostalgic moment that she walked up to my hill to me – no she strode up with her stridey little stride.

"Hello Miss," I said, being careful not to show any sense of disposition.

"Spare the pleasantries Ren, I already know who you are," She replied, taking her place next to me.

"I was just in the middle of prayer; would you care to join me?" I asked, expecting the answer already.

"Oh please, how very quaint," She laughed.

Although I expected her to do such a thing, It was against my nature the simply take an insult to the lord like that. Was this a cross-road in which I picked the right, or wrong path?

    "Holy Mary, mother of God," I began, "Pray for You sinner,"

    "Hah Hah," She laughed yet again, not understanding the magnitude of her problem.

    "You! Miss," I suddenly said, stopping my prayer, "What is your name?"

    "You know my name Ren, everyone knows my name!" She laughed again, that shrill stupid laugh.

    "That is what Father does when he is trying to be stern with someone" I replied, red-faced, "Annabella."

    "Don't call me that Ren, only Mommy calls me that, and only when she is angry at something I have done."

    "Is that not your name?" I asked, suddenly noticing her eyes again.

Those eyes, those black, black eyes


"People call me Bella, or Ann, But not Annabella," Then her face lit up, "Oh I do wish people would call me Bell, like that princess!"

"Mommy says that Disney movies are wrong and only a fool watches them," I said, matter-of-factly.

Suddenly Annabella turned red.

"Oh to Hell with your mommy and you,"

I gasped, absolutely struck, absolutely dumbstruck. How could a mere child like herself damn Mother so painfully?

I honestly believed she had morphed into some sort of unholy manifestation, but it turned out to be my own vision. My own vision… Red.

I saw everything happening already… Presque vu… Those eyes, her black eyes, staring, judging, mocking.


 
I hit her.


 
She had sprawled upon the green grass. A rag doll, a marionette who's self-righteous strings were suddenly cut during her beautiful performance. I heard nothing but the raw pounding of anger pumping through my ears. She had not only banished me to hell, but my mother, my precious mother.

    The world had become a flourishing red and green. Everything moved in slow motion, and I couldn't help but stare in agony as Annabella had slowly gotten up, tears streaming down her face. I regretted it, of course I did, and I knew I was going to be punished. But a part of me, a deeper part of me, loved the fact that she had been knocked out of her high, proud stance, forced down to humility like the rest of us. I couldn't help but smile.