I was just thinking about the phrase ‘Candy Girl’ one day, and I started writing. I didn’t know what my story would be or what themes I would mention, and I got stuck after about 2-3 paragraphs. Then, I started banging away on my keyboard again, with no plot in mind, and an idea gradually took shape. I won’t give away too much, but if you like my writing so far, I hope that you’ll stay tuned for the next installment of the story.
‘Have you seen the Candy Girl yet?’
This was the refrain that echoed around her wherever she went in school these days. She didn’t know when it started, but it seemed to be the only thing that everyone could talk about now. The maddening thing was, no one would tell her anything about this Candy Girl. What she looked like, how she came to be known by this moniker, or what she did or said to warrant this kind of ridiculous infatuation.
Blank stares and rude silence. That was what she received when she asked. Having been a wallflower for as long as she could remember, she was used to being ignored, sometimes even by her few friends. However, now even her best friend was not responding to her, and Miranda had never done that. Never, ever. Not kind, sweet Miranda.
Blinking back hot tears that threatened to spill down her chubby cheeks and hence forever brand her as the Queen of Lost Causes, she spun on her heels and rushed headlong into the nearest room she could find.
The toilet. Great.
Her buzzing thoughts stumbled to a stop. She didn’t know where the last came from. A wave of nausea hit her hard and she weaved on shaky legs to one of the metal basins. Gripping the sides of a basin tightly, she leaned over and retched. Her mouth filled with a metallic, salty taste that is reminiscent of blood. A thrill of awareness possessed her.
She looked up and there, in the mirror, was a girl around her age with garish fuchsia hair and the palest complexion she had ever beheld upon a human being. Her eyes were a nondescript colour and everything else about her was similarly unremarkable. Except her lips. That was a thin scarlet slash across the bottom half of her face.
Finally! I was wondering when you’d get around to remembering.
The girl in the mirror hissed at her with disdain.
She lurched backwards in horror and shock. The sudden movement upset her balance and she ended up half-slumped against the door to one of the cubicles. Cold with fear, her mind ceded her next decision to instinct. Various bumping and clattering sounds. That was her knocking her elbows and knees into the walls as she scrambled to get herself to the other side of the door. Crash! That was the door being slammed. Fumbling sounds and a click that seemed louder for the silence that followed. That was of course, the lock being fastened. It would have been funny if the attempt to flee wasn’t so desperate.
That was her last thought before slipping into blessed oblivion.