Bleu

This was found by my grandmother’s bed after she died about two months ago. I imagine it was intended for me, as I never knew anything about her live when she was a child and annoyed her about it constantly. I think that Grandma wrote this a long time ago and never told anyone. Anyway, I just liked it and thought others might too!






The Beginning
My name is Abigail Johnson. I am average height, blond and blue-eyed. That is where my normalcy ends. I have lived in over twenty houses in my sixteen years. Oh, and I have blue skin. My two brothers and I inherited this from our mother.
My mother met my father when she was sixteen and she fell in love with him. They were married when she was seventeen and, within the year, she had my brother James.
Someday I hope to find someone that understands us as well as my father does. Most people say we are evil demons sent by Satan, that we are not human, or that we have to drink blood to survive. Our skin makes people mistake us for the creature people called vampires. No, we are not these vampires. We are human, but others don’t seem to think that.
After years of people trying to kill us my mother and father made us move to the small town of West Harmouth, Georgia, in the Appalachian Ridge. My father thought things would be different here. How wrong he was.

How it started:
It was late afternoon we had just gotten off of the disgusting wagon we had spent the day in and finally we were able to take off our stifling face veils.
The house wasn’t that horrible. It was wood, and well-constructed. The only problem was that the road we had taken had somehow managed to get dirt into our chests and all of our rugs were covered in a thick layer of the powder.
I decided to air the rugs out by a river that was on our new property. I hung the dark fabrics over tree branches and started to hit them with a stick.
The place didn’t seem too bad to me. I always liked the secluded houses we lived much more than the others since we could go out more.
After I finished my last rug I called to my brother, James and he came out to help bring in the rugs.

* * *

That night my father gave us his customary lecture. I had heard it so many times I could practically recite it.
“Now I want you all to be very careful here. You know what could happen if people find out about us…”
Yes, I did know. Better than I should have to. They would come and demand to know how our skin got like this. Then they would call us evil, throw stones, steal our crops, and kill our animals until we left. It had happened before. More than once.
Afterwards Mama put Robert to bed and eventually everyone else drifted off to their rooms.

* * *

Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, but I was still awake. I loved this time of night. It was silent except for the occasional animal that ran through the brush. I walked outside.
Our moussing cat, Cat, brushed against my legs making me start. I’d learned a long time ago to always be on my guard. It took another three years after that moment I realized that I shouldn’t have to be. Most girls my age were looking for husbands, while I wasn’t ever allowed to meet new people, let alone a possible spouse.
As I turned to go inside I heard a rustle. I spun around but saw nothing. Maybe if I had looked closer I would have seen the small boy hiding in the bushes and staring, horrified at my robin’s egg colored skin. Maybe things would have ended differently. All I know is that I didn’t.

How it happened:
A couple days later, I think eight, to be precise; I awoke and rose to feed the chickens, like every other day. After I did that we all sat down to eat breakfast. My father was planning to go to town that day. He wanted to meet the neighbors, something the rest of us could never do.
After he left I spent the day doing household chores, taking the ashes out of the fireplace, cooking dinner, and helping my brother slaughter a pig.
I hated killing things. It horrified me to see the light draining from the creatures’ eyes, hearing their mournful last wail. I’d had nightmares for years about the first chicken I killed. It ran around without a head for a while. Repulsed, I had thrown up on my brother.
My head snapped up as the memory disappear. A noise ha interrupted the day dream. Someone was riding a house very fast along the road. The sound of hooves pounding on gravel was getting louder. Someone was definitely coming. I hurried into the house.
“Mother!” I called frantically.
She came running in from the garden where she had been planting something dirty, mud was smeared over the front of her dress.
“What is it?” she asked worriedly.
“Someone’s coming!” I practically screamed.
Fear flashed in her eyes, but she remained calm, “James is in the barn, go get him, I will get Robert.”
“But Mother-”
“Do not argue with me Abigail,” she looked furious.
Without responding I ran through the door toward the barn.
“James!” I called frantically.
“Yes, Abby?” he responded, it looked like he was in the middle of feeding the horses, but I didn’t care.
“Someone’s coming; we have to go to the house.”
He saw my hysterical expression, and, without other protest hurried toward the house.
The horse was almost on top of us when we reached the house. We stumbled through the entrance and James slammed the door and threw the lock.
The door shook as someone pounded on the thick, oak wood.
“Open the door!” It was Father.
James grabbed the metal hold and unlocked the door. Father’s thick brown hair was disheveled and his blue eyes wild.
“They know already, the whole town knows,” he looked horrified.
“Calm down John, sit down,” my mother urged him into a chair.
“NO!” he stood up and started pacing, “what will we do?”
I was terrified, my father worried and I had never seen him like this before.
“They’re coming, they’ll kill you all!”
“Father?”
Now I was confused. The people never tried to kill us, well they had threatened to but, I had never thought we would have to deal with the death problem.
Then I heard it. The sound of hooves, only it wasn’t like before.
This time there had to be at least fifty horses.

How it ended:
“Come out you monsters!” a yell registered into my mind along with a couple other unpleasant words that I’ll restrain myself from telling you.
“We have to get out of here,” I said desperately.
My brother reached for the door and it didn’t budge. He slammed his shoulder against and still, nothing.
“They must have barricaded it,” my mother said and we all ran for the back door.
The same thing. We were trapped.

* * *

There wasn’t many other ways to get out of the house; all the windows were too small for even me.
Then something started to smell suspiciously like burning wood. That was when I became determined to live. I wasn’t going to let these cowards burn me to death or smoke me out.
I grabbed a poker from the rack near the fire. I tested the tip to make sure it wasn’t hot and rammed it into the ceiling. As I’d thought, it was the weakest part of the house and part of it fell down, nearly decapitating my father.
The fire had spread and now it completely surrounded us. I swung the poker again a large enough portion of the roof for my brother to squeeze through fell. I climbed a fallen chair and got up on the roof.
My brother climbed up next, followed by my father. I surveyed our surroundings. There was a tree nearby that we could climb down and get to the barn. There was no sign of the people that had lit our house, thought that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
My mother was having a hard time getting to the roof holding my baby brother so she handed him to my father. She pulled herself up and we all sat on the roof.
Wasting no time we started toward the tree, but no one was watching Robert. He had wandered dangerously close to the hole I had made and the roof was starting to crack in other places around the hole.
My baby brother let out a wail and he fell into to the burning fire. I could hear his screams echo until at last they stopped. My heart stopped for a second. The only thought in my head was NO! It had happened too fast, he couldn’t really be gone. I started to sob and tears poured down my face.
My sadness must have shocked my mother out of her daze “NO!” she cried and launched herself to her feet. The roof under her gave way and she too fell into the fire.
I could see the light and joy my mother had brought my father leave him; his eyes became dark like the night sky. All I could think is, this isn’t really happening.
The rest of the roof started to fall and we all jumped to the ground safely. I don’t know how I did it, I was so numb.
We took the horses we had and ran as fast we could. We had no food, water, or shelter, but I knew we couldn’t stay around.
My father’s eyes still have that emptiness in them these ten years later. I don’t think I’ll ever leave him or my brother, we need each other. We need to fill the gap in all of our hearts.
I often wonder what Robert would be like if he had had a chance to grow up, and if my mother lived.

When I was sixteen I was able to lie to myself and say that one day my hero would come. After that day I thought it would never happen. This world just doesn’t except things that are different. People are afraid of the unknown.


Darling, I want you to have this to always remind you, you need to love and except everyone. The world needs more people to do that. You alone might not make a difference, but there are more of you out there, people that really care. You are what make this world great and beautiful.
Remember that I‘ll always love you, ice cream.


I’ll miss you,
Grandma Abby