Unholy Trinity: Tribulations of Youth by Yvonne Lang

Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.

I

Jane breathed deeply, trying to quell her nausea. Had her drink been spiked? Everything felt fuzzy and her brain was fumbling for coherent thoughts. The cold air was helping as she gulped it in. She’d be more careful at the next party. Something rough was digging into her soles. Jane was paralysed as she realised she was stood barefoot on a window ledge at least a dozen storeys up. She gripped onto the wall, desperately trying to edge back inside. Then a pair of hands shoved her and for a few seconds Jane was flying before she hit the ground.

II

The girl’s blonde hair was splayed like a halo round her crumpled face. A mess of twisted limbs and jutting bones seeped in blood. Students from the party claimed it was Jane, who had unexpectantly jumped. Sarah tried to remain professional in her role as security officer, but the girl looked so young. Her concaved head had been the first thing to hit the ground, shattered wrists had tried to break her fall. Jumpers hit the ground feet first, had smashed ankles. No-one depressed enough to fling themselves off a roof dove headfirst. Sarah reckoned this girl had been pushed.

III

Glynn stood in the empty room. She had packed up her candles, wiped away the red lettered incantations from the walls and scrubbed the chalk pentagram from the floorboards. This abandoned building was earmarked for demolition, yet students still flocked to the lower floors for parties. Glynn could sidle up to a vulnerable soul and lure them to her thirteenth floor. Another sacrifice to keep her young. These days it was easy pickings. Social media wrecking people’s mental health as well as thousands of new and vulnerable people shipped here annually. The humans were making her eternal existence even easier.