Death

When Death Comes to Visit Kick Him Where The Sun Don't Shine-Unless It's a Girl

I poked listlessly at my bedsheets.  What was I supposed to do in the summer?  School was out, and I had already done all of my summer reading and worksheets.  Ness was at band camp.  I didn't have any other friends.

Yeah, I'm a hopeless nerd.  Problem?  Well, I guess if you're actually reading this, you are too.  Or you're just dedicated.  Or you're a stalker.  You'll never find me!

I got up and looked outside. It was kind of gray. Just like when my mother died. No. I couldn't think about that.  The sun would shine through eventually.  When she had died, the sky had been sort of gray, the clouds in a single blanket.  When I breathed, I could taste the moisture in the air.  When she had actually breathed her last, the clouds had turned yellowish, and then green.

Too much description, yet again.  I would have a talk with my younger self, if I could.  I was so boring.  And all this stuff about the sky?  It was gray.  Just gray.  Like the color had replaced the blue, and was now stretching into space.  Like the atmosphere had been dyed a new color.  The color of death.  Oh, now I'm doing it.  I need to go rethink some things.

I got up and walked out of my room, down the stairs, and out into the park.  Time for a good cry.  I turned a few corners, trying to lose myself among the trees, but the splashing of the fountain kept me aware of where I was.  Frustrated, I sat down on a bench and began to sob.

"Hello, little girl.  Why are you crying?" a voice asked from behind me as a thin hand clapped down lightly in my shoulder.  I rolled my eyes.

Here's a hint.  If this ever happens to you, you scream, okay kids?  I'm an idiot.  I should have screamed.  Curse my fearlessness!  Ha.  Funny.

"What do you want?" I asked, turning around to see my potential molester.  I gasped.  She was about my age, but her sad, soulful brown eyes seemed both younger and older than mine at the same time.  She is wearing a fancy, silky-looking red dress.  Her hair was raven-black.  She is pictured on the wall of my room, wearing the exact same thing, looking at the camera with the exact same sad expression.

"Come with me," she said.

"You're on my wall," I said bluntly, turning back to my tears.

I think I was trying to creep her out.  Bad move.  One cannot creep out a person who grabs people they don't know and doesn't change at all over the course of sixteen years.  Ah, how innocent I was then.

"You are on my wall," she replied.  "Desirable Number Two.  You're a wanted target."

"Um, how nice?" I said, standing up and edging away from her. Don't provoke the crazy woman, Mort!

"You have to come with me," she said, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away. She was strong. Really strong. I screamed, but she didn't let go. I struggled, but to no avail.

"Let me go!" I screamed.

Then, the world disappeared around me, fading into darkness.  I gulped, but I couldn't swallow.

My unhealthy preoccupation with death had led me to this.  The creepy stalker lady and the dark vacuum.  If I could do it all over again, I would act a little more optimistically, ignoring death like everybody else did.  I wouldn't watch the dissection of cadavers at the labs, or go volunteer at the morgue.

Sadly, this is all true.  I did do all of this.  But I was wrong, you know.  It couldn't have been avoided.  Fate, destiny, all that crap, you know?  Or maybe I was just always going to be a spooky death girl.  Whatever.  I'm just going to end it here.  Have fun with the rest of your lives.