Molly clapped her hands, trying to get Jennifer to come out of her trance. “Jen, I'm Molly, not Lisa. Come on, snap out of it!” She grabbed Jennifer's shoulders and shook her, then slapped her face, harder than she intended.
Jennifer reeled from the blow, then awoke as if from a deep sleep, rubbing her cheek. Her memories bloomed in her mind. The sounds and sights of the wicked place, of this other realm, all compacted into one horrific vision—a waking nightmare. Jennifer remembered everything: the cemetery, the gates, Maddie Ann, her friends trapped inside. She had to save them, but how would she get back in?
***
Excitement made Claire’s heart beat faster, as her spirit stepped into the real world, her world. Sucking in fresh air, she skipped around in the grass like a kid again. Like a bird let out of a cage, she raced around in circles, arms spread out like wings, her hair catching the wind. My body feels marvelous…wait, how can my spirit have a body? she wondered, feeling her hands and patting her torso. It felt real! She laughed with sheer delight to be back.
Claire understood that although she came back, she’d never live a normal life here. While her body looked and felt the same, it wasn't reality. As sad as it sounded, she knew now what her grandfather meant. The Twilight. She focused her mind on her parents. She wanted to hear the sound of their voices, to touch them and to tell them not to weep for her.
She took off at an easy trot toward home, remembering the good times they shared together. What would they do and how would they cope now that she was gone? Claire refused to think about that too much. She had to think positive and avoid the guilt that mulled inside her. Nothing she could do about the problem now, anyway.
As she passed by familiar places she'd shared with her friends, tears rained down her face. Perhaps she wasn’t as strong as she thought she’d be. With that stirring about in her mind, the park and The Rock stood before her. Imagining her friends sitting atop the huge bolder, giggling and arguing as only they could, made her so sad. That time in her life was gone forever. Deciding to take a moment to pay her respects, she walked over to reminisce. The fond memories stored away in the back of her mind would remain, even if her friends were gone.
Why did I ever listen to Mitch? Because of me, my friends will never see their future. They trusted me to see them through, and I failed them. Claire bashed her fists against The Rock, sulking like a little child. The guilt began to torture her. I don’t want to live if my friends are dead. Do you hear me, Maddie Ann? You might as well come and get me, because if I live, you will regret it. As the anxiety built, a cold sweat swept her from head to toe. She suddenly felt ill, indeed.
Claire had never experienced nausea like this. She lay atop the sun-warmed rock, sobbing. She listened to the birds singing high in the trees, and discarded the last of her guilty feelings. As she fell asleep, deep in her heart, she knew this Twilight could end if Maddie Ann had anything to say about it.
She woke with a start. The sun was low in the sky, creating pink and lavender streaks in the drifting clouds. If she hurried, she’d reunite with her parents in ten minutes. She'd wasted too much Twilight sleeping. Taking a deep breath, Claire sat up and looked around the park, absorbing its beauty and committing as much of it to memory as possible. A lump formed in her throat, and she wiped away the tears that sprang forth unbidden. She sniffed, feeling a little better, and rose to her feet. Taking one last look around, she scrambled off The Rock and headed down the dirt path toward the street.
Claire focused on her feet as she walked. She remembered the red brick street those same feet trudged every day of her life on the walk home from school. She counted the bricks, like she always did. Trees lined the sidewalks on both sides, with flowerbeds circling the trunks. Branches swayed high above, forming a canopy over her head. The lawns in the neighborhood reminded her of thick green carpet and the smell of barbecue lingered in the cool air. This was Technicolor life, so precious, yet so easy to slip right through your fingers.
Memories of the summer months kept rolling through her mind, as she strolled along her street. The Barton's large, beautiful home sat on a cul-de-sac between two other houses. Her mother had a prizewinning flower garden that stood heads above the rest on the block. Obviously, grief hadn't dulled Barbara’s talent for gardening. The mums and gladiolus looked as colorful and plentiful as ever. Floodlights lined the walkway, with purple-flowered ground cover for camouflage. Hung next to the front door, a wooden carving announced the family name.
Claire stopped dead in her tracks at seeing the massive black wreath hung on the front door. Black for me, she thought, her stomach twisting. Claire’s most prized possession—the large ceramic frog she created in 9th grade—sat accusingly beside the door, a silent sentinel. She always took such pride in that frog and considered him her best work. Ceramics was one of her favorite hobbies. Her mom had always displayed her handiwork around the house with such joy and encouragement.
At the top of the porch, she took a deep breath—and walked into the house. She didn't open the door. Her body seeped through it, a ghost walking through a wall. She giggled when it tickled a bit.
Her mother reclined on the sofa reading a book, with a blanket wrapped around her legs. Claire's eyes watered as she moved in closer to drink in the sight of her. She remembered the Mother of her childhood all too well; shoulder-length blonde hair drooping over one arched eyebrow, beautiful pink-shaded cheeks and a perfect smile. How had this misfortune changed her? Kneeling down, she placed her hand on her mother's thigh.
“Oh, Mom, I love you so much. I wish you could hear me. I miss you more than you know, and my heart hurts not being able to be here with you and Daddy. If I could talk to you and you could hear me, I'd tell you what happened. I’m so sorry for not obeying you.”
Laying her head down on her mother’s chest, she heard the rhythm of her beating heart. It pulsed with pain instead of thumping strongly like before. From the haggard look on her mother’s face, Claire knew the life she once led had evaporated the night Claire disappeared.
Claire had let her mother down in so many ways. There would be no senior prom, no engagement party, no wedding. And worst of all, there would be no grandchildren. It all showed in the bags under her mom's eyes, the grayish pallor to her skin. Her once vibrant locks were pulled back in a sloppy bun.
The overwhelming urge to tell her parents not to worry grew stronger. Gazing around the room to find something to write on, a small black chalkboard hanging on the wall between the fireplace and the entryway caught her eye. She used to leave messages for her mother on it whenever she went out. As she picked up the chalk, the front door opened and her dad walked in, looking tired from a long day of work. This was the perfect time to write the message, but she needed something to draw their attention toward the board. The cat. I can use Buttercup, she thought.
Fat and sassy, the big ginger tomcat loved Claire; he followed her throughout the house everywhere she went, yowling for attention. She used to play with him for hours, dragging yarn and tossing milk jug lids. She knew where to find him. He liked to lie on the end of her bed. Walking into her room, her friends’ cast-off clothing lay scattered on the bed from the night they went to the cemetery.
The police had rifled through personal belongings, but her clothes remained on the floor, as well as her friends' clothing. Her laptop was missing from her desk in the corner. The closet door gaped open with shoes halfway in and her purse hanging on the doorknob. Walking toward her bed, Buttercup looked at her and mewled. At least he could see her. She took him in her arms, and he purred. “Hi, Buttercup, my kitty baby. I've missed you so much,” she said kissing his soft face.
He rubbed his head against her cheek as if he understood what she said. Holding him close to her chest, she took a good look at her room knowing this might be the last time she’d ever lay eyes on it again, and walked downstairs. Going into the living room, she perched Buttercup on the mantel and waited to see if her parents would notice. Sure enough, Ba
rbara rose, puzzled.
“How in the world did you get up there, Buttercup?”
Reaching for him, Claire started to write: “Mom, it’s Claire. I’m here with you and Daddy.”
Barbara startled and eyed the chalkboard as she heard the sounds of chalk striking against the slate. “Michael,” she screamed. Awestruck, her eyes widened, her face turned a paler shade of gray, and her knees trembled.
“What is it, Barbara? What's wrong?” Her husband raced in from the kitchen where he'd been mixing them a pitcher of martinis.
She pointed toward the board.
“What the…? Did you write this for a sick joke,” he asked, running his fingers through his hair.
“No, Michael, why would I do that? Are you crazy? It did it all by itself.”
Claire erased the first message and started writing again, but this time, her father saw it with his own eyes.
“Im so sorry mom and dad please forgive me I never meant to hurt u I love u so much and I miss u so bad it hurts so please dont grieve over me. Im gonna be fine Im in a better place,” she lied.
Barbara and Michael’s eyes met. “It's her,” they chimed.
“She always did have a problem with grammar and punctuation,” Barb laughed.
“It's that insane chatroom language that corrupted her,” her dad commented, a wry grin on his face. “It is her, Barb.”
They'd heard the wild stories of loved ones visiting from the grave, but they never thought they’d get lucky enough to spend one last time with their daughter.
“Claire…is that you? Please, are you here?” Michael swiveled in circles, looking at the corners of the ceiling, like she'd perch there on a cloud or something.
Barbara grabbed at her chest, and sat hard on the sofa in disbelief. “Michael, our baby came home. She’s here; I can smell her,” she said, overcome with weeping.
“Claire, write some more,” her father ordered.
Claire jotted down yet another message before she had to go. “Old Creek Cematery is the cause of my friends deaths but dont go in there and look for me because Im not there and nobody comes out alive. Its all my fault. Tell the parents of my friends Im sorry and please forgive me. Hugs and kisses Claire.” Satisfied, she turned toward the front door.
“Wait. Claire, please don’t leave. Please tell me what happened. I am begging you to tell me. I have to know.” Tears streamed down Barb's face.
She took a small piece of chalk and wrote on the back of the front door, “Nobody comes out alive! I have to go now I cant stay. Please do not worry about me cause Grandpa Tobias is taking good care of me at the farmhouse in the cematery. I love u ‘bye.”
Claire stuck the piece of chalk in her pocket. She turned around to take one last look at her parents. It was hard to leave her mom and dad again, but she knew this from the start. Blowing a kiss, she seeped back out the front door. She hesitated, then took a deep breath, pleased at how well she handled herself. She loped off the porch and down the sidewalk.
“Did you see that, Michael? The chalk disappeared. It was here one minute, writing on the door by itself, and the next, poof, gone.” Barb walked over to read what appeared like magic on the smooth surface of the mahogany door. She gasped, and fainted with a thud on the hardwood floor.
***
Jennifer’s strong need to make things right led her to head back to the cemetery where everything started. She slung her backpack loaded with bottled water and prepackaged granola bars out the open window. Molly tried to prevent her from making the same mistake as before.
“I can’t let you do this. I know I don’t know you that well, but why would you want to go through all of that again, and maybe this time not make it back? I don't understand why you'd risk your life for them.”
No matter what she said, Jennifer had to help her friends. This whole mess was her fault. The look she gave Molly silenced her.
“I can’t believe you’d suggest I do nothing. What, are you crazy? These are my dearest friends and they need me.” Jennifer figured Molly did not have any friends she'd be willing to die for. That was the difference between the two girls.
“So, are you going to drive me out there, or are you planning to sabotage what I'm trying to do? I can't get to my mom's car because it's locked inside the garage. Either way, I don’t care, because I’m going if I have to walk and hitchhike the entire way, and I’m not giving in until I find them. I know you’ll eventually tell my parents, but do this one favor for me. Give me an hour's head start, that's all I ask.”
Headstrong and determined, neither Molly nor anyone else could change her mind at this point.
“Well, Jennifer, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I see you as a person who will never make it in this world. For some reason, you don’t listen too well. I’m not too sure what you could gain by all of this, but whatever makes you happy….”
Jennifer didn’t have the patience for this girl's negativity. Now she knew why Claire ditched her. “I'm grateful for your help, Molly, but you don't have the friends I had or you'd know what I'm feeling. We were closer than sisters. You gonna take me or not?” She crossed her arms, waiting for her answer.
After a long pause, Molly finally said, “Fine, I'll drive you to the edge of town. Then I’m on my way home to tell my mother, and you do whatever it is that makes you happy. Trust me; you’ll not be laughing by morning when you wake up dead somewhere. All I can say is good luck, and don’t let history repeat itself,” Molly snarled.
Jennifer grabbed Molly's hand and sauntered down the stairs, calling for her mom. Cindy came out of the kitchen with a bright smile on her face. Good, Jennifer thought, she's in a good mood.
“What’s going on?”
“Do you mind if I spend the night at Molly’s tonight? Please, Mom, she's going to help me with my math homework.” Jennifer crossed her fingers behind her back and darted a silencing look at Molly.
“You know, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I'm glad you're making new friends.”
Jennifer's face brightened like fireworks on the Forth of July. She couldn’t believe she said yes. Jennifer embraced her mother. She turned to walk out the door, but Cindy stopped her. “You make sure you mind your manners and don't go anywhere else.” Cindy hugged her, whispering in her ear, “I love you, Baby.”
Giving her a kiss good-bye, Jennifer replied, “I love you, too, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She didn’t want a long confrontation. A simple good-bye would do, but her mother always had to be too dramatic. “Mom, let go.”
“All right, honey, I'm pleased you're getting on with your life. Now, do I have Molly’s phone number in case I need to call you?” Cindy asked, handing her a pen.
Jennifer glanced over at Molly, who didn’t look too happy about this. She had to hurry in case her new friend decided to say something. Jennifer reached for a notepad sitting on the little table in the entryway, and jotted down a number. She switched around the last two digits. She had no other choice.
“Well, got to go, and don’t worry, I'll be fine.”
“Fine, but please be careful,” Cindy said. “There are people out there that think the worst of you.”
She hugged Jennifer one more time and watched her walk out the door. The girls’ ran to the side of the house to grab Jennifer’s backpack. Pressed for time, they jumped in Molly's car. Before they knew it, they'd reached the outskirts of Old Creek where Molly pulled over. Jennifer jumped out, grabbing her bag.
“Thanks, Molly. You don't know how much I value your help.”
“Cravens, I hope you know what you’re doing, but I’m not getting blamed for this. You’re crazy, but then again, no one ever said you were normal.” Molly peeled out, mouthing her objections.
Filled with fury, Jennifer walked toward the dirt road leading to the cemetery. She kept a steady pace, one foot in front of the other, like a strong soldier going into battle. She knew what lie ahead, but it didn’t matter.
***
Gazing at
the dim night sky, Claire studied it like it was the last time she’d lay eyes on it. The purple sky of Maddie Ann's creation had no stars. Butterflies fluttered in Claire stomach like a fleet of helicopters as she remembered the visit with her parents. It hit her hard to think of parting with the world she loved, but she knew she had no other choice. I don’t want to go back to that farmhouse. I want to stay home. God, I want my mother, she cried. She walked with her head down the rest of the way back to the tunnel, mulling over the return to the cemetery.
She looked forward to seeing her grandfather again, but it scared her when she thought about Maddie Ann ruling over her life for eternity. This couldn’t happen. She took the lead in all things, the one who needed to stop this horrible tyrant before she killed again.
Claire thought about going to Jennifer's house to see how she fared since her escape, but the visit with her parents had been hard enough. It would sap her resolve to see her best friend in such pain. The best way to help Jennifer was to go back to Grandpa and fight Maddie Ann from the inside.
Maddie Ann s Playground Page 14