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// Farewell to Paradise 
// Story: Vacant Niches 
// by Jongoji245 
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While your eyes are closed, you breathe in the warm air as you gently turn to your side. You hope your little adventure in slumberland would never end. But alas it was not to be when you hear a shrilling sound pierce your eardrum. Tossing and turning, you feel your soft covers, then a hard object, than a colder hard object. At last, you feel plastic, shifting your index finger to slay that infernal sound. You lie flat on your back, raising your arms as you let out a satisfied groan.

You open your crusty eyes, seeing a blurry square before you. Rubbing your eyes, your look again to find a ceiling light. You lift your head to see the vibrant walls, reminding you of a tropical life. This is evident as you get off your bed; just outside the window was a sunny beach. Several beachgoers, from kids in swim trunks to women wearing the most revealing of clothes, patrol the beach front. You then turn to your suitcase, taking off your robe and pulling out a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt.

“Anon!” - You hear while putting on your shirt. When you couldn’t answer soon enough, you hear knocking on your door. - “Are you ready?”

You finally get your head through the hole; problem is, just not the right hole. Your covered ears then pick up your door opening. You turn around; before you was a woman, around her early forties, with black hair (with a few graying hairs), flesh colored skin like yours and wearing a thin silk dress.  

“I… am in a bit of a rut.” You notice her mouth drawing away, letting out a muffled snort through her nose. She approaches you, pushes your head back into your shirt, and pulls the shirt down. Your head in its proper place, you turn back to your mother, still having the same smile on her lips.

“What would you be without me?” She pinches your cheeks before leaving the room.

You get your alarm clock packed with your clothes, lifting the handle before you pull the suitcase with you. You lift it step down a flight of stairs. You step outside, breathing the warm, salty air. In front of you is your family car, a loading truck, and a whole stack of boxes. You decide to help the truck driver with loading, but as you do you feel your heart become heavier. Your feeling becomes clear when your eye spies a certain shiny object. You take it out of the box; it a group photo containing a much younger you, your mother, and a much taller man. Your moment ends when your mother takes the photo away from you. 

“Mom, do we really have to move?” You mutter.

Your mother stops to turn around.

“You expect me to drive over there and back?” She answers, trying to put a happy face on things. Seeing you unphased, she nudges your shoulder. “C’mon. It’ll be a good experience for the both of us. New home, new places, new school, new friends.”

“Not that I have any friends.” You mutter again. You sit on the passenger's side, giving your old home one last look as you feel the pull of the car beginning to move. Soon, the house is lost to your line of sight. You look around; your favorite hangouts, your favorite restaurants, especially the one you admire most of all for its frozen treats. The gulf coast disappears as your mother leads the truck through the leafy jungle. Just staring out of the window, it doesn’t take you long for your eyes to feel heavy. You shuffle your shoulders and let the sandman claim your life again.





Somehow, you are back in your old school, and half your height. Feeling alone, you look at the clock in the hallway. It’s still school hours, so why is everyone absent? You take your steps cautiously, moving your eyes left and right.

“Hey look, it’s Annie!” You turn around, finding three larger boys. The one in front of your is cracking his knuckles.

“It’s… It’s…” You try to answer in a more youthful voice when the bully grabs you. You curl into a ball, though that doesn’t do you much good as your hated rival punches in the gut several times.

“Oh look, boys. Little Annie got hurt.” You are spun to an empty void in an open locker. “Here, let’s put her to bed.”

As you a brought closer to the locker, you beg, screaming for your life. You keep a strong grip on the rims, arching your back to hold back the force of him pushing. As he laughs, you look into the darkness; noticing the laughter becoming more feminine as a toothy mouth somehow appears before you. When a pair of predatory sapphire eyes glisten, you close your eyes to resist the fearful sight.





You immediately wake up, the fact that it is a bright day relieving you from your fears. But it’s the setting that fills your brain with confusion. Gone is the sandy beach, gone are the jungles on the outskirts of town. Instead, there are vast fields of scrubland with a few acres of more hardy trees as well. It’s nonetheless alien to you when you see a large set of rock formations. You feel like a prune when you begin to stretch.

“Enjoy your nap?” You turn your head to your mother, continuing the drive without rest after turning her head away from you.

“Have you been driving all night?” You rub the sleep from your eyes and flick off the eye boogers. Looking back to your mother, you see her let out a chuckle.

“Actually, sleepy head,” - She shifts her shoulder a little - “We went to a rest stop. I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

You draw a smirk on your face before looking ahead, seeing a small town grow ever larger. Driving closer, you see the sparse growth replaced by fields of green grass and a few trees; around ten minutes after, it gets replaced by concrete buildings and sidewalks. As your mother stops at an intersection, you look around. While you can still see the mountains, the amount of buildings in one area made you feel trapped. Yet seeing the people and their children walking happily, this town might have some hope for you. When you look forward, your eye catches something on your right.

There was a group of older children, around two years older than you. Most of them were women, but there are a few men with them; one such man, yellow in skin color with violet hair and stripey facial hair appeared to lead the band. Shifting your head a little, you find an anomaly with the herd of young adults. A little boy with white hair, ten-eleven years old you might guess, slows himself to give a good look at you. It’s an awkward stare, but it ends soon as you feel the car pull forward. The boy still looks at you before turning his gaze and joining his company.

A little further, and you finally arrive at your destination: a two-floor building nestled on a little hill between another building and a hard place. You grip the door handle, tightening yourself as your mother precariously pulls into the tiny driveway. With the truck pulls its backside into the driveway, you feel the fear build up to you. Wincing a little, you open your just a crack, letting out a sigh of relief when you see the truck park a few feet away.

“Well.” Your mother grips your thigh, a happy look on her face. “Welcome to Estes Park.”

Both of you exiting the vehicle, your lungs take in the fresh air: compared to the tropics your dwelled all your life, it’s colder, and feels a little heavy on your lungs. Likewise, your skin pickles after a few seconds. You curse in your mind that you should have worn a long sleeve shirt. But bygones be bygones; the best way to warm yourself is right before you. You pick up a box, walk as fast as your loaded body could allow. Fortunately for you, your mother leaves the door open.

When you enter the house, you find yourself a little disappointed. The colors aren’t vibrant, but down to earth colors. At least the stairs and floors have soft carpet over them, adding a sensation between your toes as you carry the box. You put it on a leftover chair, almost colliding with the truck driver when you run to get another box. This one, your signature on top, you bring your room. Though having drabby colors, it is much larger than the one in your old house. After you put the box down, you stroke your chin; maybe with her permission, you could paint the walls yourself.

The boxes in their place, your mother pays the truck driver threefold, having spent an entire day and half of gas and needed to do so again when he heads south. You join her in waving him goodbye. He pulls forward; going, going; gone. With that out of the way, you sit down on the couch, hoping to absorb the atmosphere of an alien city. You eyeball your mother opening a box and grab a book then sit down next to you. 

“So, what do you think?” She asks, not turning her attention away from the pages.

You look around, reminding yourself of the overall look of the house, especially the colors. You slouch even further when you come up with an answer.

“Well it’s garish, ugly, the paint job reminds me of a suicide film…”

“So…” - You flick your eyes to see your mother turning away from her reading - “you don’t like it?”

“Don’t like it?” You turn your head, facing your mother before drawing a smile. “I love it.” 

You two return to lounging on your chairs before feeling a rumbling in your tummy. At first, you ignore it, but it starts again, louder and a little painful. Your mother turns her attention to you.

“Hungry?”

You place your hand on your stomach, scrunching the folds of your skin, muscle, and fat a few times before looking ahead.

“Yep.”