ByAsha Bell, writer at Creators.co
Contest entry for the origin contest ^^
Asha Bell

Origins of Carrie's Mother, Margret white

Asha Bell.

9 May, 2015

Their are people in this world, people whose very existence would make you shutter at what you believed to be your reality. Would you believe, even for a moment, that supernatural forces beyond your understanding, were present in your world? Margaret white, was one of the most unsuspecting souls. In a world of religious shelter, she lived quite separately from her peers. Being the daughter of Pastor in a little Ohio town, Margaret was a skeptical to the entire town. Hair long and blond, skin pale as ice. She shuffled behind her father every Wednesday to the chapel, the church being the only place she could be herself. She would set the bibles on the seats, set up the alters for tithe and offerings, and hide away in the upstairs attic of the church gazing out of the small window that allowed little to no light. She sat there, viewing the world as if it were a snow globe; a place that was, but a place that she could never join, daydreaming stories of acceptance . “I'm pretty.......aren't I?” she thought to herself as she watched from a distance, the game of courting unfold before her eyes. Boys chased the girls, girls pretended not to notice, but blushed at the sight of any male interest. “I'm pretty too” she told herself as she brushed the window away in an effort to dismiss the laughter and flirtatious giggles uponst the streets below. “I'm pretty, I'm pretty, I'm pretty” she muttered uncontrollably as she began to cry, her inevitable difference from the girls of her town becoming more and more evident to her. Nobody talked to her, nobody ever talked to her. She was the strange daughter of a Pastor, strict and sheltered, she was different, and no one cared to get to know her; not the way they wanted to know the other girls. As she cried, she mushed herself, knowing that her father was now noticing her absence in the chapel, and calling her name. She hurried down the steps leading from the attic to the main room, turning around quickly she is greeted with her father staring anger-fully at her. His face was distorted by his rage of her sneaking.

“Get the behind me Satan!” he yelled at her, spiting the words like venom.

“But papa! I was just... I was Just taking a break” she retorted, trying to stop him from making a scene. “Did I tell you to get ready for service?” he asked in a tone that she recognized as a cue for her to stop talking.

“Yes sir” she said bowing her head to show her submissiveness to his will, “And yet” he spoke as he began to open the church doors, as to allow the onlookers outside a better glimps of her humiliation “You decided to “take a break” instead. Does the bible not say that rebellion is as witch craft?”

she kept her head tucked, to hide her face from her onlooking peers. They would only find her stanger, she wold only be more of a freak.

“father please!” she yelled, “please don't do this”

“Don't do what?” He said in a voice of mockery. “What is done in secret will always be shown in the light Margret”

The onlookers were speechless, and she looked upon them with teary eyes. She could do nothing else

but run. Run through the crowed of spectators, run deep into the nearby woods, where she cried out her

every pain.

As she lay there, beside a weeping willow, she sobbed. “you're the only one who understands

me, aren't you. We can weep together....we can be friends” The day turned into night, and she lay there on her own, telling stories to the willow that would never judge her.

“You have quite the knack for story telling don't you?” came a voice from in the deepness of the woods

in fear the stood to her feet “Who are you?!”

emerging from within the shrubbery, a man no older than 15, with hair as dark as the night sky, and eyes even deeper. “I don't mean to scare you miss, I only spoke...because your stories were so entrancing. I couldn't pass without letting you know” he said as he sat across from her, keeping fair distance.

“How long were you there?......were you just here to make fun? Make fun if you want, I don't care anymore”

“I would never” he said as he moved slightly closer. “To be honest, I was on my way to my home, I should have been there a solid two hours ago, but when I heard your stories, I was compelled to sit. You caught my ear, and now my eyes”

She stood there, speechless by his words “......do....do you want to hear another?” she asked nervously

“I would want nothing more” he said, now gazing into her eyes.

For weeks, she had made it her personal goal to have a new story for him every day, they began to meet daily, he would bring her flowers and strawberries, and she would bring him stories, stories that began as tall tales, but would end in her expression of her own life. He listened to her, always sitting closer to her than before. Urging her that he truly did care.

One night she decided to follow him home. They would always depart in swiftness, and she knew not where he lived, nor his name. She only wondered if he may be hiding something from her, maybe tricking her to speak her feelings, only to share them with the school boys. So that night, after he departed , she followed him quietly. He moved deep into the woods, deeper than she new the woods could go. She wondered if she should turn back, or tell him she was there. But it was too late for that, she had followed him, and didn't want to risk losing his trust. As she walked, she tripped, taking her eyes off him for only a moment, but when she looked back up, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Would you rather me guide you?” he said from behind her.

She turned around and was met with gleeful eyes. He wasn't mad, he was seemingly quite amused with her.

“I.......I'm sorry......I was just...”

“It's alright Margret” he said as he held her hand “ I would never lie to you, if you wanted to come with me, you never had to sneak, I would gladly take you where ever I am”

she looked into his eyes, the feeling were unspoken, but very real. He took her into his arms, and led her to a mossy patch. Moonlight struck the ground in splendor, and they laid together in love and passion . Enveloped in a love that she'd never before dared to ask for, she was worthy to him, she was beautiful.

Night turned easily into morning, and they lay softly with each other, not speaking a word.

As noon began to emerge, she gazed into his eyes.

“You called me Margret” she said softly

“Yes” he said as he leaned on his elbow, as to look at her from above while she lay.

“I never told you my name” she said as she looked deeper into his eyes, hoping to find no deception

“I know” he said to her with ease “ And I never told you mine. There's something I want to show you”

He picked her up and led her to a river. He sat her down and moved to the water.

“What are you doing?” she said with a giggle, he was always trying to show off

“watch me” he said. As he lifted his arms above his head, the water in the river began to rise. The rocks began to lift, and fallen trees were completely erect.

“.......wha......what are you?!” she screamed, as she scrambled to her feet in fear. She wanted nothing more than to be awaken from this sweet dream turned nightmare.

“Please!” he called for her. “ I would never hurt you, please don't run away from me”

she looked in horror, awaiting an explanation.

“I am the wood, I am the stream, I am the willow you called friend. I never spoke to you my name, because I don't have one. I just am. I am a sprite, a sprite of these woods,building and growing, and watching” his eyes welled with tears as he feared her rejection.

“I heard you crying that day, so long ago, I always heard you crying, and I couldn't take it, So I spoke to you. I just wanted to speak to you... to stop you from crying anymore.”

“You devil” she spat “ You tricked me, you lied to me to bed me!” she looked at him in fury

“Leave me be!” she said as she ran toward the town that rejected her so many times before.

Scrambling to her father, she began to beg in repentance. Telling him of every encounter with this devil, she spared no detail.

“curse you harlot! You speak lies to romanticize your sin!” he said as he spat on her in disgust .

“father please! I'm telling the truth!”

But no one believed her stories, so she let them believe they were only stories; hoping that she too would believe it a tall tale. As the months passed, she had almost believing her own lies. She began to believe that every time she saw him, she was seeing a lie from the devil. He tried to reach her, but could not, due to her every effort to ignore his existence. But one day, many months later, She lay in her room unable to shake the nervous feeling that she would again see his face,feel his skin. As she lay there, she felt a presence. Sitting up, she saw him standing in the corner of her room, staring at her.

“why have you come for me again?” she said quietly

“I haven't come for you this time.” he said as he walked closer “I've come for whats mine.”

“and what would that be?” she said as she began to feel angered

“what you bare. You bare my child, My very being is inside you now. And I want it”

“No!” she yelled “You may have tricked me into bedding with you, but you will not have my child, if indeed I bare it!” she spat words like venom, hoping to hurt him with every strike.

“Say what you will, feel how you may. But I will fetch her by her 16th birthday. I WILL have her Margret” he said as he vanished into seemingly nothingness.

Laying in tears, she held her stomach tight. “I wont let him have you, I'll lock you away before I let that devil take you.”

So she did, she bore his child several months later, naming her Carrie, after the woods from which she was conceived. And she never let her out of her sight. Always raising her in her holy faith, as to keep her from ever manifesting the evils her father had once demonstrated. But she grew cold to Carrie, she grew cruel., seeing her father in her every time she held her close. She could not shake the fear that he would come for Carrie, just as he'd promised.

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