Rest in Peace
Jun. 2nd, 2003 03:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhHad to write an original story for a class, figured I'd post it here. 'Cause it's my LJ, after all. It's 2,000 words, probably G. Comment if you see a dropped word or misspelling, or if you think the entire ending needs to be rewritten, because ew. ;) Oh, and suggest titles. I dunno if I like 'Rest in Peace'.
I’d heard the story a million times before it ever happened to me. Well, not the exact same story, but that‘s the way it is with these kinds of things. The names and places get changed each time, maybe to protect the innocent, maybe to make it a little more local. But they stay close enough that I knew just how it was going to go. But her- I think it’s always new for her.
She was wearing an old-fashioned dress, something out of a prom from the fifties. It was an incredibly light pink, maybe a peach, just a few shades off from pure white. My headlights flashed over her as she turned, raising a hand to shield her eyes, and for one moment it almost seemed like the light hit her strangely, like it reflected wrong. Between the dress and her pale skin and platinum blond hair, she looked nearly translucent, like an apparition, and I almost thought I could see the forest through her, unclear ghostly shadows.
I stopped the car, pulling over to the side of the road. The gravel of the shoulder rattled against the underside of the car, a quick hail of thumps and ticks. That noise always worries me, you know. It sounds louder than it should be, like it’s something bigger than a miniscule rock, something big enough to do damage.
I leaned across the seat, opening the door on her side. “Hey. Are you okay?”
She looked behind herself, but if she was hoping for another car to come along and save her, she was out of luck. The road was deserted, and eerily quiet. There weren’t even the normal nature sounds of crickets and rustling leaves, making my words sound piercing. The stars were clearly visible in the sky, here away from the city and its ever-present lights. It was real night, a sort of deep blue-purple color that swallowed things up as soon as you were more than a few feet away. She was standing partly under the overhanging boughs of a tree, and between its shadows and my headlights, she was weirdly mottled in colorless black and white. Her whole face was hidden in darkness, except for a faint glistening where her eyes reflected the light. She could have been staring at me, and I couldn’t even see her. “Could I have a ride home?”
“Yeah, of course. Get in.”
She did so daintily, smoothing her dress across her thighs in an almost antique movement before folding her hands in her lap. I started the car again, and the radio blared to sudden life as the engine restarted. She jumped; the music, weirdly distorted by static, sounded too harsh and loud, more like screams and wails than a pop song. I slammed it off, feeling startled myself.
I stammered out a hushed apology, feeling uncomfortable, but she only nodded and said nothing, even after I started to drive. The silence stretched out, strange and oppressive, longer and longer until I was almost afraid to break it. The trees on either side of the road closed in, branches intertwining over the road into a lacy mesh, hiding the sky except for tiny patches. My headlights skipped along their trunks, briefly illuminating a tangle of trees and vines and tall grass before we roared past and it fell into darkness again.
I cleared my throat. “Where do you want me to take you?”
She rattled off an address in a nearby town, and laughed a little, a short cough of giggles that sounded fake. “That’s my parents’ house. I suppose you think I’m quite the old maid, still living with my parents, still unmarried.”
I shrugged. “Marriage is overrated.”
She didn’t seem to hear me. “I’m engaged, though. Quite recently. I have the most beautiful ring- did I show you my ring?” She paused, cutely confused. “No, I haven’t, not yet. I don’t think I have…”
I shook my head, and she proudly displayed it, tilting her hand from her wrist like all good soon-to-be brides, and the diamond glinted dully in the dark of the car.
“Isn’t it beautiful? It must have cost a fortune.” I nodded, and she went on, extolling a long list of her boyfriend’s virtues and charms. The words tripped over themselves just a little too quickly, without the normal pauses for thought or breath, more like a lecture or monologue than conversation. There was a rehearsed, unreal, quality, as if she’d memorized this, repeated it a thousand times, and no longer changed for the individual audience. I wondered if she was trying to convince me or herself. “We’re going to dance tonight, Danny and I. I bought this dress just for the occasion.”
“Tonight? It’s after two already.”
She froze, turning to me, her speech thrown off. “After two? No, surely it’s not.”
I pointed to the digital clock set above the radio. The numbers glowed neon green in the dark, and changed as we watched, flipping over to 2:34. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes. She was too pale, glowing and unearthly in the dark of the night, so white against the dark brown of my old car seats and the black window, like a snowflake already half melted and thawed. Beyond her shoulder, her reflection glimmered in the window, a milky blur with blank holes for eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” She raised a hand to her mouth, pressing her fingers against her lips. “I just had the strangest feeling, suddenly. As if there’s something important that I should know, something just on the tip of my tongue…”
I raised my eyebrows, though she couldn’t see it, the both of us staring ahead at the empty road. I was having a strange feeling myself, and beginning to regret picking up this girl. “Do you remember how you got out there?”
“I was at a dance,” she said quickly, her eyes still focused on the clock.
“You said you were going to the dance later tonight.”
“Did I?” She paused, now delicately biting the tip of one finger. “No, no, I’m sure I went to the dance. I remember it. There was a live band, you know, and the most splendid cake.”
“But how‘d you get here?”
“And then Danny and I danced, oh, we danced for hours. Danny’s a wonderful dancer. Have you seen him dance?”
“No. Listen to me, do you feel alright?”
She looked at me, her eyes wide and naïve. “But of course, you must know him. He was sitting right there.”
I paused, uneasy. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong, and I didn’t know how to answer or what to do. The conversation had warped, and was twisting away even faster as I tried to catch up. I could almost feel it breaking, like a fraying cable of rope as the single strands began to snap, one after another, quicker and quicker, the still-whole rope growing thinner too fast beneath my hands. “Right where?”
“There. In the driver’s seat of his car.”
When I spoke I knew my voice sounded too young, whiny. Scared. My hands were clenched around the steering wheel, and I could see them in the periphery of my vision, as white as her. “But this is my car. I’ve never met Danny.”
She frowned, confused. “No, I remember now. He sat there, and it was night, like this. So dark, and the trees only made everything look darker. Night is always blackest in a forest, have you noticed? The trees must drag their gloom with them, drip shadows from their leaves and roots when we’re not looking. A night like this… it seems to suck the light away and swallow it.”
She fell silent. I said nothing, but watched the speedometer slowly creep up, the trees become nothing more than a gray blur, one indistinguishable from the others at this speed. I wanted to get away from here as soon as I could. “It was 2:34 then, too. I remember now. I looked at the clock, and I laughed, I said, ‘Danny, my parents’ will certainly have your head!’ And then he kissed me. Yes. Oh, Danny. You shouldn’t kiss while driving. I loved him so much. Do you know? Do you love anyone like I loved Danny?”
I swallowed, hard. A chill crept down my spine, like a dead hand trailing possessively to the small of my back, leaving a trail of ice. I was beginning to understand. “‘Loved’?”
“Love. I love Danny.” She stumbled over the words and rubbed her hands nervously together. “Right? It’s so confusing. I remember the dance. I remember leaving my house. I remember telling my parents that we were engaged. I remember riding in the car. I remember our kiss- No. I remember dancing. We danced for hours.”
“You already said that.”
She caught her breath on a sob, and paused before going on softer than before. “I’m sorry. I can’t… I remember so many strange things. Things that must have happened to someone else. Cars. How many cars before I get home?”
“There’s a hospital nearby, I think we should-”
“I want to go home. Please? Please, try one more time. They always want to take me home. Isn’t there a story like that? An ancient man, condemned to do the same thing over and over, and never accomplish it? It was his hell. But surely that isn’t me, I never did anything wrong. But I don’t remember… I did go home, didn’t I?”
I nodded, afraid to turn to face her. Her voice was changing, abruptly clear or far away, fading like a scratchy message on a walkie-talkie, but always small and lost. “Sure. You went home.”
She shook her slowly. “I can’t remember it. It’s so hard. Just when I think I’ve gotten a hold, it slips away. I don’t understand it. I… I loved Danny. But after that, I don’t know anything. I keep trying and I keep trying and none of it makes any sense. The cars all slide together, and I don‘t remember which one I was riding in, which driver I loved.”
If I turned to see her, I was sure she would be gone. A skeleton, a rotting corpse, an image fading like an exposed photograph, but not her.
“It changes. It blurs and I can’t remember what was real. Once there was a crash but once there wasn’t, more than once, so many times. But they all must have happened to me, because I remember them. So many cars, so many drivers. I loved Danny, I know that. Do I? I can’t… it’s so hard.” She was crying, softly, so that it barely distorted her words.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the sound no more than a whisper.
“I remember my life, and then… and then I remember after it.” She gasped, the sound shuddery and painful, like the last breath of air before a swimmer gives in to exhaustion. “No! I can’t be-”
She grabbed my arm and I shrieked, yanking violently away. I hit the steering wheel and the car veered to the side, whirled wildly. I had a brief glimpse of her, her eyes wide and terrified, mouth open in a silent scream as the trees outside her window roiled in the wrong direction. We skittered across both lanes, spinning madly to the squealing of wheels as I pumped at the brakes, too panicked to see or hear anything except in flashes. I came to a stop perpendicular to the center lane, shaking and panting. And alone.
I drove to the address she gave me, but there was nothing there except the ruins of a strip mall. No parents to tell her tragic story, her death mere weeks before her wedding, no neighbors to tell me her name or how long she’d been dead. No one left to remember anything real about her at all. She’s just another ghost story.
Oh, and for far more entertaing things, check out the latest posts by Sephy and Amet. Buraki 4eva, yo!
I’d heard the story a million times before it ever happened to me. Well, not the exact same story, but that‘s the way it is with these kinds of things. The names and places get changed each time, maybe to protect the innocent, maybe to make it a little more local. But they stay close enough that I knew just how it was going to go. But her- I think it’s always new for her.
She was wearing an old-fashioned dress, something out of a prom from the fifties. It was an incredibly light pink, maybe a peach, just a few shades off from pure white. My headlights flashed over her as she turned, raising a hand to shield her eyes, and for one moment it almost seemed like the light hit her strangely, like it reflected wrong. Between the dress and her pale skin and platinum blond hair, she looked nearly translucent, like an apparition, and I almost thought I could see the forest through her, unclear ghostly shadows.
I stopped the car, pulling over to the side of the road. The gravel of the shoulder rattled against the underside of the car, a quick hail of thumps and ticks. That noise always worries me, you know. It sounds louder than it should be, like it’s something bigger than a miniscule rock, something big enough to do damage.
I leaned across the seat, opening the door on her side. “Hey. Are you okay?”
She looked behind herself, but if she was hoping for another car to come along and save her, she was out of luck. The road was deserted, and eerily quiet. There weren’t even the normal nature sounds of crickets and rustling leaves, making my words sound piercing. The stars were clearly visible in the sky, here away from the city and its ever-present lights. It was real night, a sort of deep blue-purple color that swallowed things up as soon as you were more than a few feet away. She was standing partly under the overhanging boughs of a tree, and between its shadows and my headlights, she was weirdly mottled in colorless black and white. Her whole face was hidden in darkness, except for a faint glistening where her eyes reflected the light. She could have been staring at me, and I couldn’t even see her. “Could I have a ride home?”
“Yeah, of course. Get in.”
She did so daintily, smoothing her dress across her thighs in an almost antique movement before folding her hands in her lap. I started the car again, and the radio blared to sudden life as the engine restarted. She jumped; the music, weirdly distorted by static, sounded too harsh and loud, more like screams and wails than a pop song. I slammed it off, feeling startled myself.
I stammered out a hushed apology, feeling uncomfortable, but she only nodded and said nothing, even after I started to drive. The silence stretched out, strange and oppressive, longer and longer until I was almost afraid to break it. The trees on either side of the road closed in, branches intertwining over the road into a lacy mesh, hiding the sky except for tiny patches. My headlights skipped along their trunks, briefly illuminating a tangle of trees and vines and tall grass before we roared past and it fell into darkness again.
I cleared my throat. “Where do you want me to take you?”
She rattled off an address in a nearby town, and laughed a little, a short cough of giggles that sounded fake. “That’s my parents’ house. I suppose you think I’m quite the old maid, still living with my parents, still unmarried.”
I shrugged. “Marriage is overrated.”
She didn’t seem to hear me. “I’m engaged, though. Quite recently. I have the most beautiful ring- did I show you my ring?” She paused, cutely confused. “No, I haven’t, not yet. I don’t think I have…”
I shook my head, and she proudly displayed it, tilting her hand from her wrist like all good soon-to-be brides, and the diamond glinted dully in the dark of the car.
“Isn’t it beautiful? It must have cost a fortune.” I nodded, and she went on, extolling a long list of her boyfriend’s virtues and charms. The words tripped over themselves just a little too quickly, without the normal pauses for thought or breath, more like a lecture or monologue than conversation. There was a rehearsed, unreal, quality, as if she’d memorized this, repeated it a thousand times, and no longer changed for the individual audience. I wondered if she was trying to convince me or herself. “We’re going to dance tonight, Danny and I. I bought this dress just for the occasion.”
“Tonight? It’s after two already.”
She froze, turning to me, her speech thrown off. “After two? No, surely it’s not.”
I pointed to the digital clock set above the radio. The numbers glowed neon green in the dark, and changed as we watched, flipping over to 2:34. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes. She was too pale, glowing and unearthly in the dark of the night, so white against the dark brown of my old car seats and the black window, like a snowflake already half melted and thawed. Beyond her shoulder, her reflection glimmered in the window, a milky blur with blank holes for eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” She raised a hand to her mouth, pressing her fingers against her lips. “I just had the strangest feeling, suddenly. As if there’s something important that I should know, something just on the tip of my tongue…”
I raised my eyebrows, though she couldn’t see it, the both of us staring ahead at the empty road. I was having a strange feeling myself, and beginning to regret picking up this girl. “Do you remember how you got out there?”
“I was at a dance,” she said quickly, her eyes still focused on the clock.
“You said you were going to the dance later tonight.”
“Did I?” She paused, now delicately biting the tip of one finger. “No, no, I’m sure I went to the dance. I remember it. There was a live band, you know, and the most splendid cake.”
“But how‘d you get here?”
“And then Danny and I danced, oh, we danced for hours. Danny’s a wonderful dancer. Have you seen him dance?”
“No. Listen to me, do you feel alright?”
She looked at me, her eyes wide and naïve. “But of course, you must know him. He was sitting right there.”
I paused, uneasy. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong, and I didn’t know how to answer or what to do. The conversation had warped, and was twisting away even faster as I tried to catch up. I could almost feel it breaking, like a fraying cable of rope as the single strands began to snap, one after another, quicker and quicker, the still-whole rope growing thinner too fast beneath my hands. “Right where?”
“There. In the driver’s seat of his car.”
When I spoke I knew my voice sounded too young, whiny. Scared. My hands were clenched around the steering wheel, and I could see them in the periphery of my vision, as white as her. “But this is my car. I’ve never met Danny.”
She frowned, confused. “No, I remember now. He sat there, and it was night, like this. So dark, and the trees only made everything look darker. Night is always blackest in a forest, have you noticed? The trees must drag their gloom with them, drip shadows from their leaves and roots when we’re not looking. A night like this… it seems to suck the light away and swallow it.”
She fell silent. I said nothing, but watched the speedometer slowly creep up, the trees become nothing more than a gray blur, one indistinguishable from the others at this speed. I wanted to get away from here as soon as I could. “It was 2:34 then, too. I remember now. I looked at the clock, and I laughed, I said, ‘Danny, my parents’ will certainly have your head!’ And then he kissed me. Yes. Oh, Danny. You shouldn’t kiss while driving. I loved him so much. Do you know? Do you love anyone like I loved Danny?”
I swallowed, hard. A chill crept down my spine, like a dead hand trailing possessively to the small of my back, leaving a trail of ice. I was beginning to understand. “‘Loved’?”
“Love. I love Danny.” She stumbled over the words and rubbed her hands nervously together. “Right? It’s so confusing. I remember the dance. I remember leaving my house. I remember telling my parents that we were engaged. I remember riding in the car. I remember our kiss- No. I remember dancing. We danced for hours.”
“You already said that.”
She caught her breath on a sob, and paused before going on softer than before. “I’m sorry. I can’t… I remember so many strange things. Things that must have happened to someone else. Cars. How many cars before I get home?”
“There’s a hospital nearby, I think we should-”
“I want to go home. Please? Please, try one more time. They always want to take me home. Isn’t there a story like that? An ancient man, condemned to do the same thing over and over, and never accomplish it? It was his hell. But surely that isn’t me, I never did anything wrong. But I don’t remember… I did go home, didn’t I?”
I nodded, afraid to turn to face her. Her voice was changing, abruptly clear or far away, fading like a scratchy message on a walkie-talkie, but always small and lost. “Sure. You went home.”
She shook her slowly. “I can’t remember it. It’s so hard. Just when I think I’ve gotten a hold, it slips away. I don’t understand it. I… I loved Danny. But after that, I don’t know anything. I keep trying and I keep trying and none of it makes any sense. The cars all slide together, and I don‘t remember which one I was riding in, which driver I loved.”
If I turned to see her, I was sure she would be gone. A skeleton, a rotting corpse, an image fading like an exposed photograph, but not her.
“It changes. It blurs and I can’t remember what was real. Once there was a crash but once there wasn’t, more than once, so many times. But they all must have happened to me, because I remember them. So many cars, so many drivers. I loved Danny, I know that. Do I? I can’t… it’s so hard.” She was crying, softly, so that it barely distorted her words.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the sound no more than a whisper.
“I remember my life, and then… and then I remember after it.” She gasped, the sound shuddery and painful, like the last breath of air before a swimmer gives in to exhaustion. “No! I can’t be-”
She grabbed my arm and I shrieked, yanking violently away. I hit the steering wheel and the car veered to the side, whirled wildly. I had a brief glimpse of her, her eyes wide and terrified, mouth open in a silent scream as the trees outside her window roiled in the wrong direction. We skittered across both lanes, spinning madly to the squealing of wheels as I pumped at the brakes, too panicked to see or hear anything except in flashes. I came to a stop perpendicular to the center lane, shaking and panting. And alone.
I drove to the address she gave me, but there was nothing there except the ruins of a strip mall. No parents to tell her tragic story, her death mere weeks before her wedding, no neighbors to tell me her name or how long she’d been dead. No one left to remember anything real about her at all. She’s just another ghost story.
Oh, and for far more entertaing things, check out the latest posts by Sephy and Amet. Buraki 4eva, yo!
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no subject
Date: 2003-06-02 02:00 am (UTC)Of course, now I'm going to wonder about the chick and who she was and whether Dannyboy ever really proposed. You're trying to hurt my brain, aren't you?
Re:
Date: 2003-06-02 12:42 pm (UTC)And teehee. Thanks. :)