Carolina's Origin: Early November in North Dakota

The house was dark and Carolina liked it that way. She watched the lamp light cast bars of gold along the dark wooden floor and imagined that she could pick them up and make them into a cage for the butterflies she saw in the summer. Yes, Carolina liked the dark, but she disliked the silence. Even the house’s echoes of laughter and children playing were silent. She missed her father, she missed her brothers, and most of all she missed her mother. The first two she could find, the last she could search for forever.

A frown crossed her features, furrowing dark brows and causing bright blue eyes to narrow as she stood. She would rather be out in the outside, the snow making small sounds of tinkling glass upon it’s fallen brethren on the ground, then here in a big house that no longer had a soul. She walked to her closet, opening the doors looking through the clothing there. It was a wide array of styles and colors, no two items too similar to each other. She grabbed a pair of bright pink gloves, tugging them on and then rainbow zebra striped arm warmers over them. A dark green and brown plaid scarf went about her neck, and a pale fitted coat that looked like it belonged in the 1950s. She knew better than to go into the night wearing dark clothing, even if the night was more welcoming when it felt as if it had a friend who liked the same color it did.

The last thing she grabbed was an umbrella. To be honest, she had always found it silly that people used them when it snowed, but she felt like she might conform tonight. Plus she liked the color. The yellow sparkling plastic caught the light and reflected it as she stepped outside, shut the door behind her, and locked it. She was careful on the steps, seeing that her father had failed to throw salt on them. With no destination in mind she just started to walk, smiling at the snowmen who smiled back.

Her smile fell though as she began to realize where her peacock feather printed rainboots were taking her. They knew the path to the hospital well. There was a sinking in her stomach, and her left hand went to her right wrist, the now healed tattoo beating with the slowly healing parts of her heart. Still she couldn’t stop her boots progress, they had a destination in mind after all.

Carolina stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the green man to appear telling her it was okay to walk. And it appeared, in no hurry. She found the silence in the night wasn’t much better than the silence in the house, even if it was different. And then the silence was broken by the sound of tires spinning, horn blaring, and her head turned to see lights that blinded her and made her flinch back, her own scream echoing through the night, her yellow umbrella clattering to the ground. And then there was a crashing sound, the awful awful sound of metal folding in on itself. But there was no impact, was she dead? She didn’t feel dead. How did one feel when they were dead, though? She’d never had the experience.

She had fallen onto her butt as she had tried to get away and she didn’t bother standing, not that she thought her legs would support her, as she looked back toward where the vehicle had been coming. Her eyes widened at the now stopped truck, it’s front end very much like an accordion, but she doubted it would ever play very good music. The man behind the wheel was even now getting out and rushing toward her.

“Are you alright?! Oh God I couldn’t stop! I’m from out of town you see and I guess I didn’t even think about black ice. I don’t know what happened. Are you alright?”

Carolina turned stunned eyes from the truck, up to their owner. He was a middle aged man, his hair starting to go gray ,with worried and panicked brown eyes. She found that the silver looked nice among the dark strands. It reminded her of tinsel on the tree at home.

“I’m-I’m okay.” she said, taking his offered hand and standing. Her heart refused to settle though and her breath came in quick pants, and she recognized the beginning of a panic attack. Taking a struggling deep breath, she bent to grab her umbrella, folding it up. “Do, Do you have a cell phone? I would like to call my brother.” Perhaps she should have worn the dark coat after all.

“Sure,” the mans shaking hands fumbled in his pockets, coming up with a black cell phone. Carolina grimaced at the color but took the phone.

“Thank You.” she said, polite, dialing the number and it wasn’t until she heard her favorite brother’s voice on the phone that she allowed herself to burst into tears.

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It had been a month since the near accident, and Carolina still had nightmares, ones where she was hit and she was in the same hospital room as her mother, unable to move, speak, talk, and sometimes she wondered if she were merely dreaming her life in a coma. It felt as if nothing touched her, and she felt disconnected from the world around her. She kept thinking about the front end of the truck. Why had it looked like that? As if it had hit some sort of wall, something that protected her. Carolina at first thought, maybe it was her guardian angel, but then she remembered she wasn’t sure if she believed in angels anymore, and if they actually did exist she didn’t think hers was doing her any favors.

She had tried replicating the same effects, not by stepping out in front of cars, of course not, but instead by throwing a rubber ball against the brick front of the house. If it hit her, well it didn’t work, but if it didn’t her, well that was a success. So far it always hit her. She figured the house and ball thought her funny.

The commercial on the television caught her attention. People think life in California is just one big vacation… Truthfully Carolina had never thought of it but she found herself sitting on the edge of the chair, watching avidly. California, find yourself here.[/i]
Was it that easy? It looked like a beautiful place, and it looked both warm and cold, not just cold. Standing, she nodded at herself. “I’m going!”