#i just gave myself a stick and poke with the sharp point of a compass and honestly it was probably the least harmful thing i could have done

[artistic-musicalwriter-blog]

The Disappearance of Father. I wrote this 2 years ago, and still love to write on it. This is the first chapter.

I’d passed out in the Sahara Desert, waking with a needle injecting green fluids through my forearm, sending a shudder through me. “She’s alive!” my mother gasped. “You OK?” asked three year old David.  “I’m OK,” I croaked, “But where’s Father?” Mother’s face fell.  “Whenever you fell down, your father ran off, saying that Bill and I should start getting you to a hospital as soon as we could, and that he would get the Jeep to pick us up once he got to it.  The next morning the Jeep was here, but he was nowhere to be seen.” I sat in shock, then, filled with emotion, leapt up and started walking.   Mother gave a start and grabbed Bill’s hand.  “Miranda! You get back here this instant!” Mother exclaimed as I walked out the door.  I ran to our house, grabbed some supplies, packed the jeep, and left, stopping by the hospital to find out which way he was headed.  “Toward Safaga, the next town north.”  I revved the engine, but right before I drove away, Bill, my older brother, raced out, and grabbed my hand, shoving his special compass into it. Surprised, I took it, staring at him all the while.  “I know,” he said, “But you’ll need it.” I slowly nodded, then began my journey. I drove all night, until, exhausted, I set up camp and zonked out with breakfast still cooking.  I slept until nightfall, and then began again.  When I reached Safaga, I saw a man creeping into a cottage with a kitchen knife! I leapt out with it still running, and burst in just in time to yell.  The criminal threw the knife at me, missed, and, noticing his mistake, vaulted out the window, just to be caught.  I made sure that he had his rightful punishment and drove home after a vain search.  When I arrived, Mother rushed out of the house, followed by David, and last Bill. They were relieved, since I had had no time to call.  A few nights later, I spotted someone sneaking around inside our house, headed for little David’s room!     I scampered into the kitchen, ripped off a table leg, and ran into his room, just to hear him scream. I looked around and suddenly got knocked on the head.  The last thing I heard was David whimper, “Miranda?” then everything went black. When I awoke, I saw that David and I were tied in the back of a truck, David’s eyes wide with fear.  I attempted to speak, only saw we were gagged.  I looked around, and saw that we were headed towards a decrepit city named Hurghada, five hours north of Safaga, approximately seventeen from Quseer, our home town.  I ripped open my gag on a sharp piece of metal sticking up, splitting my lip, and looked around for any signs of human activity.  In the distance I distinguished a large city, and presumed we were going to be sold as slaves.  I mouthed to David to turn around, and rolled over to where he was.  I tore off his bindings with my teeth, and while he unfastened his gag, I told him to untie me, and to stay still.  He listened to his order, and when we arrived, we yelled for help, and they arrested the mysterious kidnapper. I reached over, and unmasked… my…missing older sister! I gasped, “Lily?” I threw my arms around her, just to have them thrown away. “No gushy stuff with me, Miranda.  You know I hate that kind of stuff,” she muttered. “Y—you killed Dad, didn’t you?!” I accused. “No, it’s not what it seems,” she retorted.  “Miranda Charlotte Timberline, what are you---,” I saw Mother break through the crowd, spotting Lily and recognizing her as fast as I had.  She wordlessly lifted Lily to her feet and embraced her, just as I had attempted.  Lily, seemingly welcoming, stepped into the embrace.  “Mother, I--,”  “Shh. Silence, Lily,” Mother comfortingly rubbed her back.  I suddenly bent backwards, blood soaking my midsection. “Miranda!” I heard Lily and Mother cry out in unison.   I looked down towards the knife point poking through my shirt.  Then, everything went black as I collapsed.  “Miranda!” I heard Mother scream as Lily caught me, sliding an arm under my shoulders and knees, lifting me up to her chest, and, suddenly I heard four people gasp.  Sniffling awakened me.  I reached out, expecting to feel little David’s hand, but instead I touch a smooth, feminine palm.  I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then footsteps as the hand slipped away.  Quick footsteps, flooding into the room, then a rough, male voice speaking in a language I had not learned.  Neither the voice nor the language did I recognize.  My eyelids fluttered, and I attempted to comprehend what was going on, when suddenly, and surprisingly, I was leapt upon by a small, squirming figure. A small, wet face pressed into the side of my neck, and a mouth near my ear crying out, “Miranda! Miranda! You’re okay! You’re awake!” I finally opened my eyes, and saw David pressing as close as he could to my throat and chest, Bill by my side, and yet Mother and Lily were nowhere to be seen.  As I patted and embraced David, I scanned the room.  My eyes froze in my sockets when I suddenly saw the man who had stabbed me, and, surprisingly, dressed in yellow and clean shaven, he looked a lot like Father.  I attempted sitting up but was met with a wave of pain.  I looked down at the hole covered by bandages, and, watching them turn red, I fell back against the pillows.   Finally, I was able to survey everything in view.  I was in a small, steel room with broken windows, on a hard, metal cot and a thin blanket draped over my legs.  I attempted to sit up again, but was too weak.  Abruptly, Mother burst into the room, closely followed by Lily.  “Miranda!” Mother cried out, “Your wound opened!” “I'm fine, Mother,” I said.  As Mother looked at me appraisingly, Lily said, with grudging admiration, “She definitely takes after us, Mom.” As they started peering more closely at me, I attempted to sit up.  Bill and David attempted to hold me down, but let go when I let loose a frustrated scream that sounded more like a groan.  “Miranda,” the man in yellow said, “Your family cares about you, so please rest.” As Mother and Lily turned to gaze at him, I examined him closely.  “Who are you, anyway?” I asked, feeling put-out.  He sighed, “So you really don’t recognize me, huh?” I gasped, “Jacob?” He smiled.  “It is you!” I cried out. “So you finally figured it out, Miranda.” He said, full of pride.  “B-b-but you’re d-dead,” I tried to swallow my upcoming anxiety and fear of ghosts.  “You, you,” I never finished the sentence before the blackness claimed me. “Miranda! Miranda! Wake up! Please don’t die, oh my god, please don’t die on me! Miranda! Wake up!” I woke up just in time to have a buckets-worth of freezing cold water thrown onto my face.  I sat up, spluttering.  “Oh, Miranda! I’m so sorry!” someone whimpered.  My vision cleared so I saw Jacob in front of my face.  “You!” I grimaced as my throat protested against the yell.  “You,” I whispered hoarsely, “Why are you here?” “I carried you from the other house. You didn’t wake up the whole way, and, and I was so worried, and,” He started crying.  Despite myself, I felt sorry for the poor guy as he dripped tears onto my shirt and drooped his head like a flower in the desert.  “Quit crying, already! I’m serious, Danny.” He winced at the sound of his old nickname. Long story short, we were friends since early childhood, he kissed me when I was fifteen, and we started dating.  He did some pretty regrettable things during that time period, and I dumped him at Cuba Cabana one night.  I thought he had died a long time ago, since he sent me a note saying, “Good-bye, Miranda. You won’t be seeing me around anytime soon. I’m sorry.” And I guess he’s never quite gotten over me since the note.  “You’re getting tears all over me,” I complained, “Now will you please tell me where we are? And help me out here, too.” Jacob nodded mutely, standing up and lending a hand to the struggle of me sitting up. As I settled back against the pillows, the actual possibility of looking around at the room I was in became viable as a choice.  We were in my room at home, which surprised me, since Mother, Lily, David, and Bill weren’t rushing into the available space to see how I was.  “Your mother and family are asleep,” Jacob commented, seeing my confusion.  “I told them to get some rest, seeing how they have been through a great ordeal over the past few days.” I felt a surge of gratitude towards him, yet the temperature in the room felt like it dropped twenty degrees, as I remembered that he had stabbed me a few days ago. I pulled up the hem of my shirt, looking closely at the bandage that was supposed to be covering my almost completely healed midsection.  It had somehow become too big for my waist, and then slipped down over my hips. As I pulled my shirt up farther, I could better understand why.  “Jacob?” “Yes?” he answered, lifting his head off the bed.  I had no idea when he put it down, which wasn’t necessarily good, since I had only looked away for a few seconds.  “How long was I asleep?” Seeing his grimace, I said, “You’d better frickin’ tell me, Jacob, or so help me, I’ll…” The threat itself was enough to break through to him. Contorting his face, he groaned, “Two weeks, Miranda. You were asleep for two weeks.  Are you happy, now?”  I gasped, taking in what he had said. “Two weeks?” I watched his head wilt.  “Two weeks.  Two weeks.  Two weeks,” I chanted under my breath, sagging against the pillows.  “Miranda?” Jacob raised his head from the cranny of his arms.  “Miranda?” He repeated, “Are you okay? Hello? Miranda?” Worry started to creep into his tone.  My head snapped back and forth when he started shaking me.  “Miranda! Miranda! Miranda!” I came to my senses and slapped him across the face.  Well, at least he let go of me, even if I did feel bad for the shocked look in his face and the wounded stare in his eyes. “Stop it. I wasn’t going to pass out, and the world wasn’t ending, so stop shaking me.” “O-okay,” he said, shivering at the sudden ferociousness that had snapped out of me. “Sorry,” I said carefully, “I just, just,” I sighed, struggling to find the words to explain the feelings warring inside me.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly, tentatively.  “What do you have to be sorry for?” I asked him, “Because I can’t seem to remember if you should apologize for stabbing me, letting me sleep for that long, shaking me, or making me believe that you were, were,” I tried to swallow the sudden lump in my throat, “Dead,” I finally whispered.  “Look, Miranda, I---” he started.  “You’re sorry, I get it, seriously,” I sighed, “I’m sorry, too.” We sat in silence.  Unexpectedly, my stomach let out a thunderous rumble. We both laughed nervously.  “Well, I guess I should get you something to eat, then.” Jacob pointed to my underfed stomach. “And let my folks know that I woke up,” I added pointedly.  Jacob winced.  “Oh, yeah. Them.” He rose.  “I’d better get going, then.” “Wait.” I grabbed hold of the hem of his shirt with one hand.  I avoided his silent gaze.  “Are they okay?” His voice became hushed.  “Yes.” I breathed out a sigh and loosened my iron grip on his shirt, then let go, dropping my hand onto the small green cover that was thrown onto my bed.  Jacob moved to go.  He stopped at the door, then said, “Um, Miranda?” “Yeah?” “I don’t think that your cats want me to leave.” I frowned.  “My cats?” I didn’t own any cats, or any animals, for that matter.  “Wait, one second, these aren’t your cats?” I sat up straighter.  I scowled confusedly.  “No, they aren’t.” Jacob hmmed, then opened the door smoothly and left.  I leaned back, then the two cats jumped onto my bed. Both were ratty looking and with scarred faces.  One cat was calico with orange, black, and white splotches along the long, lanky body.  The other, on the other hand, was a long-legged chocolate Siamese, with a creamy face and chocolate colored limbs.  Rather unexpectedly, the door slammed open, and the calico I was reaching to pet whipped around, fluffed up, and hissed at the newcomers barging into the room.  Startled, the Siamese leapt into my lap, and as I cradled her against my chest, I could feel her heart pitter-patter against her ribs.  As I held her tightly, her poor little soul pounding, I took a good look at the new arrivals.  With a shock I realized that it was Lily who broke into the room so suddenly.  We stared at each other for a few moments, before I whispered, “Lily?” I reached out for her.  She threw herself at me, flinging her arms around my neck. “Miranda, Miranda, Miranda, Miranda,” she chanted in my ear.  “Hey,” I unwound her arms, “I’m okay, right?” I was shocked to see tears streaming down her cheeks.  As she hurled her arms back around me, I looked up to see Jacob leaning against the doorway, an apologetic look in his eyes.   “Sorry,” he mouthed.  “It’s okay.”  I patted Lily’s back as huge sobs racked her body.  I closed my eyes and rested my head on her shoulder.  A few moments later, Lily drew back, but I still kept my eyes shut.  “Miranda?” I raised my head and lifted my heavy lids a sliver.  “Um… whose cats are these?” I closed my eyes again.  “Dunno. I was thinking of keeping them.  They seem to have taken a liking to me.” As I said that, the cats had started to knead at my legs insistently.  I opened my eyes fully and pet them.  Swiftly, the door slammed into the wall, and again, the cats fluffed up and pressed against my chest.  I sighed, “I swear, that wall is gonna get a huge dent if that keeps happening.” I saw Bill, Mother, and little David standing in the doorway.  Bill’s hand hadn’t left the doorknob yet, Mother was still clinging to his arm, and David rushed into the room.  As he grabbed hold of my shirt, I let go of him for a second to open my arms to Mother and Bill, saying, “It’s okay, there’s room for everyone.” As if I had turned on a light, Bill, Mother, and Lily drew to me like moths.  I heard someone laughing within the clash of bodies, and, after a second, I realized that it was me.