Bloodred LainThey called Sam a danger. But that couldn't be right. Watching wasn't dangerous. Taking pictures wasn't dangerous. And it wasn't like any of the collection was stolen, just things that had been lost or thrown away. Sam turned to the covered walls and filled shelves. Every one of those items held a memory. A precious, precious memory.
Sam sat at the wooden bench holding a book. But the sounds of the kids laughing and playing made it hard to concentrate. Sam risked a quick peak. The birthday cake had just been cut and the children were busy smashing their faces with cake. With a whoop, the birthday girl bounded away from the park's wooden picnic tables and with a quick tap on her friend's shoulder, announced "You're it!"
Immediately, the empty plates were abandoned and the kids were racing around the park. During the kershuffle, the birthday girl lost her party hat. Sam took a look around, but no one was watching. Slowly getting up and casually putting the book away, Sam walked over to the side of the park where the party hat had fallen. With a quick scoop, the hat was retrieved and placed in the backpack. It was time to leave.
Dozens and dozens of photos lined the wall. She really was beautiful. At first, Sam was satisfied with just watching. When that wasn't enough, the photos started going up. Those too lost their luster. Discarded papers were the first to join the collection. Then, hair ribbons that had gone undone and flew upon the wind. When Sam grew bolder, the collection grew by leaps and bounds.
"But I don't WANT a younger sister!" The screams were coming from the girl, about six years old, as she sat on the house steps.
"Sweetie," her mother said softly as she picked up the broken plushies from the front lawn. "You'll have lots of fun with your new sister. It make take a little while to get used to not being the only child any more, but it will be fun. I promise. And," she said with a sigh, "in any case, you can't just rip up all your toys because you don't want a sibling."
Later that evening, Sam rescued the plushies from the family's garbage can.
She ran from the school doors as soon as the bells rang. A lanky boy followed her out.
"Wait, I didn't mean anything by it!" he protested.
"Didn't mean anything by it? You stuck stupid notes to the back of my shirt on my first day of high school!"
A peevish grin spread out on his face. "Well, they were funny."
"They were not funny. You're the WORST older brother. I hate you! I'm telling Mom when we get home."
Before her older brother could reply, she turned and ran down the sidewalk, right past Sam's car. A few brightly colored sticky notes drifted lazily to the ground.
Sam waited on the park's cold metal bench, the same as every Saturday morning. It was early, too early for the kids to be out, so the birds were the only others in the park. The cold metal started digging into flesh and Sam shifted uncomfortably. Stupid metal benches. Why weren't there any other benches in the park? Just cold plain meta—
Wait, that wasn't right. Had the park always had metal benches?
Sam tried to remember, but the memories weren't surfacing. Her name was... She had blonde hair. Or was it brown? An only child... with an older sister? Brother? Sam wasn't sure any more.
Sam looked around at the photos. Surely, the answer would be there. But the photos were too blurred to make anything out.
Sam whirled around, but none of the photos were clear. The silky hair ribbon from moments ago was nothing but bits of twine. In the corner of the room, a covered mirror caught Sam's eye. With trembling hands, Sam reached out to pull down the cloth.
She hardly recognized herself. Moppy hair hung down on her forehead and she couldn't tell if it was brown or blonde. Sam looked around and suddenly there weren't any photos at all, just scribbled drawings in crayon. She let out a piercing cry. A nurse rushed into her room.
"Samantha, dear," the nurse began, coming over towards her. "Were you having bad thoughts again? That's okay. That's why you're here: to cure your madness."
credits: profile and story by 
Shakespeare | background from Hero Patterns
