chapter eight
''Mom, I got you the flour you wanted,'' Evelyn Shouted. Silence greeted her.
Where was her mother now?
''Ah, thank you, my dear child.'' Said Flo, suddenly appearing out of nowhere making Evelyn Jump.
''Mom, you scared me.''
''I'm sorry, little one.'' Flo marched in, her distinct yellow apron wrapped around her dainty waist taking two enormous containers with her. Evelyn rushed and helped her through the doorway.
Evelyn rushed and helped her through the door. The women settled in and for the rest of the day, they made bread, buns, and assorts. Evelyn was exhausted, the heat from the open stove had taken a toll on her. She sat down on the couch, fanning herself when her mother came in with a cool glass of lemonade.
''Are you that tired, my child?'' Flo mused, placing the cup in the young girl's hand. Taking a sip, Evelynleaned back unto the sofa whilst her mother
''Of course, I've been slaving all afternoon.''
''Well, thank you for helping me. ''
Evelyn hummed in response to her mother. It did her many lending a hand to
The morning quickly came, Evelyn sat up in bed, her eyes adjusting to the light. It seemed her mother had rolled up the blinds whilst she was asleep. Quickly, she came out of bed and wandered into the bathroom where she did her morning ritual. After saying goodbye to her parents, she went for a walk. The town was emptier than usual, it made her wonder if something had happened again. Though, it was very unlikely. If something had happened, she would hear of it. Without gossip, the town seemed dull as if it was the town's lifeline. Maybe it was, she continued walking until she heard someone mumbling. Beside her, in the crevice of an old beat-up wagon was a woman; an old woman she particularly remembered the one with aphasia. Evelyn was no doctor but incoherent words were one sign of aphasia or either of insanity. Evelyn wondered if the old woman had no one to take care of her. The old woman began mumbling louder, this time for Evelyn to hear.
''The Demon is ላይ σε εσένα, δεν είσαι ασφαλής, Virgo''
''He will co...me for you and leave p...ain within his wake.''
Hearing the woman's words, Evelyn hurried past the woman. The words scared her, she did not understand who this old woman refers to or why she had spoken to her. Hell, she didn't even understand a word she had spoken. Whatever it was, it was no language she knew.
''HE WILL COME FOR YOU!'' Shouted, the deranged woman suddenly appearing in front of her. For a split second, Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. The woman stood in front of her, her hair matted and locked. She had spoken in full words, the horror of the words gripped Evelyn's insides as she hurried her steps, aimlessly, the woman inched behind her. Once again, mumbling incoherent words. Evelyn ran, thankfully the old woman's fragile body couldn't keep up. She lost the old woman down the road. Catching her breath, she sighed. If Luke was here, he would be cackling down on his knees. But Evelyn, the peril of the old woman's words left her heart beating erratically inside her chest.
Was she in some sort of danger?
Just who will come here?
With those thoughts lingering through her muddled mind, she continued her walk. The wind was suddenly heavy, drops of water soon followed. Today was the weirdest day for her as another deja vu hit her again. This time, it was the memory of a foreigner. Rain tipped on the top of her head, she made a to-do list in her mind to always take an umbrella. Whipping around, she began walking home. The rain was now drizzling and probably had no intention of falling. Footsteps approach her, slamming on the ground. But she didn't dare to turn around. The stranger darted past her, missing her shoulder by an inch. Heavy weather boots, clad-woolen coat mask the stranger's form. His dirty hands were buried in the coat. The copper-tipped blond hair sends feelings of familiarity down her chest.
''Luke?'' It came as a confused, uncertain question from her. Like, would never wear such attire, even if it was raining. He also had a fear of rain so it probably wasn't him. Almost unwillingly, the man turned to her and confirmed her suspicion. It was Luke, or rather someone resembling Luke.
''Wrong person.'' He sneered, turning around and walking away.
Confusion ripped through her, she was sure it was him. After fourteen years of devoted friendship, she could spot him from a mile away. But his attire and the color of his eyes were different, even the jagged steps in his walk; those were different but she swore it was him. She would confront him at school Monday.