I overheard several people who witnessed the accident say that the jeep disappeared right after hitting me at the corner of Union Street. They seemed to agree that it vanished at some point between the corner of Union Street and Taylor Street. Vehicles don’t just disappear. Countless bystanders remarked on how implausibly odd my accident was, and how it reminded them of some of the strange and old folklore they had heard passed down from generation to generation. They noted ancient stories dating as far back as over a hundred years ago. They spoke in hushed tones about inconceivable accounts, including bizarre deaths, disappearances, unproven hauntings, and gruesome attacks by unknown entities. I hardly thought a hit and run could compare to some of the ghosts stories they rambled about. But only one question clotted my head.
How had that mysterious guy been ogling me from the curb one second then running me over the next?
Had I been so overcome by the mysterious guy’s beauty that I saw him everywhere? Had he been a hallucination? No, not at all. But no one could be in two places at once. It was as if he had become someone else when he floored that jeep. The splendor of his eyes had altered, from cool chrome to searing scarlet, ominous and lethal.
As I sat there in the backseat of my parents’ car completely dumbfounded, I saw my father twist the key in the ignition, and felt the juddering of the car's engine coming to life.
Then I felt something else entirely.
Heat. Extreme heat roasting the right side my face as if the sun was just inches away. Although the rain had subsided, the sun’s corona was eclipsed by the leaden clouds that continued to battle brutally against one another. What felt like a blaze against my cheek, was hot enough to scorch metal. If I wasn’t a ghost right now, and had skin, I was certain I would have melted away into the car’s upholstery. My parents seemed totally unaffected, oblivious to the microwave we were sitting in. I turned in the direction of where the heat seemed to originate from as it gradually intensified.
My eyes fell directly on the mysterious guy that had somehow been in two places at the same time. He stood about four feet away from the car door closest to where I sat. The heat seemed to radiate from his eyes which burned like glowing coals. I've seen eyes like that before, and shuddered remembering. The mysterious guy’s eyes were hungry like the wolves that haunted me every night for the last two weeks of my life. His expression took on a hideous gargoyle’s scowl, but some of the beauty still remained making his face ghastly like a disfigured angel’s face. But the longer I stared at him; his facial features became more twisted. The thick eyebrows that had once framed his handsome face were severely arched forming a unibrow that started at his hair line, and connected at the bridge of his pug nose and flared nostrils. His fleshy lips curled downward at either end, and contorted. His face looked like it hurt to look that revolting, dragon like. He glowered at me, and I gasped.
Can he actually see me?
Was he looking through me like a window, and at someone or something else? Instinctively, I turned around and examined what was directly behind me. Nothing, but pedestrians. He was definitely glaring at me with pure evil intentions. I felt the frantic urge to jump out of the car, right through the window, if I had to. He glided towards me as if on wheels, all the while never taking his glowing ruby eyes off me.
As if on cue, my dad eased the car forward into traffic, directly behind the ambulance. By doing so, the gargoyle faced guy halted. I turned around, and faced him through the back window. His penetrating eyes fastened on mine as he watched our car wedge deeper into the steady flow of traffic. He drifted slowly down the street in the same direction our car headed, but stayed about a car’s length behind. He never broke his unwavering stare.
Thinking for a split second that it was safe to, I allowed a sigh of relief to escape my lips. Then it happened, and I was proven wrong. Safety couldn’t be more out of reach. A current of fear shook through me as he appeared. Floating right outside the car window, he threw his head back so far that his neck should have snapped, but didn’t. Then he jerked his head forward with his mouth opened wider than any mouth could naturally stretch open. It looked as if his upper lip and lower lip were being pulled apart. He let out a malicious and deafening roar, causing my dad to nearly lose control of our car. My dad wasn’t the only driver who fought to regain control of their vehicle as pretty much every other car on the road swerved in every direction from the shock of the unexpected growl.
Instantaneously, everyone strolling down the sidewalks as well as those who had returned to their shopping in the shops cupped their hands over their ears to ward of the piercing sound. The roar seemed to go on forever, drowning the residual raucous of the thunder. The earsplitting cry shattered every glass window on the main street into millions of pieces. Whether it was a car or shop window, a traffic light or vintage light post, every piece of glass was cracked or completely busted and blown out. It appeared as if a bomb loaded with enough C4 to wipe out ten city blocks had gone off.
I braced myself, cringing in acute fear as I turned once again to face the gargoyle faced guy. Suddenly the shadows that hovered on the walls of the buildings directly behind the gruesome guy became indistinct shapes. The shadows seemed to come to life and slid off the building walls. They crept up as slow as molasses, inching across a china plate. The sinister shaped shadows swarmed together forming the shape of a giant man. The massive silhouette’s flickering cape brought back the horrid memory of that inexplicable night when electrical currents flowed through my veins like blood.
Great, I thought. The gargoyle guy didn’t work alone. The evil shadow has come for me again. Maybe they were here to take me to hell. This was it. But what had I done to merit an eternity in hell?
The ghastly faced guy glowered down at me. He must have read the feared expression on my face as I stared up at the looming shadow and its cape flickering violently like a flame fighting to survive against a harsh gust of wind. The guy turned around to face the huge figure that lowered its head and shoulders over him. Suddenly, curling flames shot out of the guy’s mouth as if he’d swallowed a lit torch. He leapt backwards as if he hadn’t expected the shadow to be there.
I detected that it was dread washing over the guys face, bringing his features back to their gorgeous state. His black shirt melted, disappearing into his pale white skin like an Oreo cookie drowning in a glass of milk. Not a second had past when he spread his brawny arms out wide at his sides.
With a loud snap like a sail flapping forcefully in protest of harsh winds, massive reptile like webbed wings sprouted from beneath his arms. He soared into the dismal gray sky like a hawk. He was gone, and with his departure, so was the creepy shadow.
My eyes darted all over C Street. Every vehicle had stopped. Every driver and passenger stood outside of their vehicle inspecting the damage to their windshields and windows in utter disbelief. Every window was shattered completely or partially blown out. People were trickling out of the shops appearing alarmed and dazed. Groups of tourists watched the chaos in the street from the balconies of the saloons, restaurants, and bed and breakfasts.
There was no way of making any sense of the destruction.
I kept hearing the same word thrown around.
“This is so bizarre… every window smashed.”
“How bizarre….the piercing sound hurt my ears.”
“How could this be… it’s bizarre.”
The word was at the tip of everyone’s tongue. But no one mentioned seeing a guy dressed in all black with a horrid gargoyle’s face and penetrating demonic ruby eyes. No one saw a man fly into the sky with wings of a dragon. Not even my parents. Was he also a figment of my imagination? Was he a ghost like me? His dragon like wings made me think of some sort of dark angel. Either way I seemed to be the only one who had seen him although everyone had positively heard him.
I turned to face my parents, whom had opted to stay in the car.
“How bizarre.” My mom said, carefully brushing the shards of the windshield
off the dashboard, off her lap, and out of her hair.
“Yes, bizarre.” My dad said. “Let’s go.” Dad started the car again, and swerved around a couple of vehicles. Then he mounted onto the curb, scaring a few tourists, and made a right turn onto Taylor Street. Dad headed to the morgue, averting the madness erupting on the main street.
Throughout all the commotion, he hadn’t forgotten the business of identifying his only daughter’s dead body.
Five
Trusting Liars
Upon my parents return home from the heartbreaking endeavor of identifying me at the morgue, they broke down all over again. Thunder resounded lightly after a second shower finally tapered off into a mist. Surprisingly, the sun made an encore appearance. There was nothing left for me to do now but roam our tiny home.
Would that be considered haunting it?
I spent the remainder of the afternoon following my parents around, listening to the warm breeze flood the house since my parents barely spoke to each other. Mom stayed in my bedroom clutching my favorite stuffed animal, and weeping and rocking back in forth on my bed like a helpless child.
Dad exiled himself to their bedroom, and sat at the edge of the bed gazing out the window at the Sierras, as if the mountain range could somehow make sense of his loss. There would be no dinner prepared tonight as puffs of orange cotton candy spread across the sky, and the punishable sun slid low behind the mountains. My parents remained in their respective spots. I hung out in the living room for a while feeling despondent.
I reminisced while eyeing the few scattered photos of me framed on the fireplace mantle and those held by quirky magnets on the refrigerator door, trying to relive the moments in the pictures. Thanks to my parents who notoriously forgot to bring along a camera to all my special events, there weren’t many photographs of me. I took a closer look, scrutinizing each picture, and noticed that something was happening to me – in the photos. I appeared to be fading away, literally disappearing from the photos, all of them in fact. I appeared vapor –like, ghostly. Whatever was directly behind me in the pictures, whether it was a tree or another person could be seen right through my smiling image. Why was I vanishing from all of our pictures? It was as if I was being erased. Maybe it was because I was dead, and it’s how I saw myself. A tremor ran through what was left of me as I recognized the emotions I still experienced while lifeless.
Listening in on my mother, as she tearfully informed our relatives and friends of my sudden death, was a poignant and definitive moment. I made the decision to leave the house for a while when mom made the disturbing call to the funeral home. I wanted nothing more but to soothe my parents, but I couldn't, I was no longer a human being; a part of their communicative world. Although I couldn’t breathe, a suffocating feeling enveloped me, and I had to escape the house. I couldn't bear to witness the details of my closed casket arrangements. The finality of my mom’s specific instructions was like a choke hold.
I staggered out the front door, well through it, and was met with a blur of glimmering flower petals and shinyribboned plush toys. Some of my neighbors and friends had left lit candles, flowers bouquets, and stuffed bears on my porch. I don't believe my parents were aware of the make shift vigil on their doorstep. I couldn’t feel it, but I saw the evening mist sparkling when I looked upward toward the violet sky. I guess there was no chance of my temperamental hair frizzing up. What I wouldn’t give for another bad hair day.
My feet guided me toward C Street, as my mind deliberated the cons of being dead. No more friends, no more ice cream, no more running off to a far away state, just to name a few.
I strolled passed people I knew whom didn't have a clue I walked amongst them, just a ghost getting some air. It had to be the first time I ever walked into town where no one said hello to me or wished me a pleasant evening. This was a small town where everybody knew everyone, and it was second nature to greet everyone like an old friend. Right now the feeling was alien. I felt so alone and desperate for a human connection.
The questions emerged incessantly. Does a person, well a ghost just wander around forever? Were there others like me floating around aimlessly?
If there were others, how would I know them from the living? Maybe they would just come up to me, and start a conversation. Actually, that would be more daunting than being alone.
Could that peculiar guy with the gorgeous face which later morphed into an ominous gargoyle’s face be a ghost too? I shuddered at the chance of another encounter with him. But perhaps, if he was a ghost, it would explain why no one in town had noticed him. But then how is it that I saw him before I died? Before he killed me. I couldn't make any sense of any of this as I realized how strange the main street appeared, busier than usual.
The majority of the shops would have concluded businesses for the day by this hour, but not on this night. Tonight, C Street shone like the Vegas strip while the store keepers rushed to secure their store front windows. I glided passed the gift shop where I worked – correction, used to work, it looked as odd as the other shops with the store front windows gaping wide open like jaws edged with sharp glass fangs where windows should be.
Every owner hoped looters wouldn’t prevail. I doubted any of them had figured out what caused the wreckage. I threw myself in with the lot of confused and bewildered town’s people. As I passed several saloons, it wasn’t the usual laughter filtering out onto the boarded sidewalks that stopped me, but the loud voices in full discussion covering everything which had transpired this afternoon. The taverns had to be filled to capacity. It didn’t take much to shake up this tiny town, and today’s events were nothing short of a mystery. How would this quiet town ever recover?
I blocked out the noisy voices from the bars, letting my eyes take in the shadowy mass of mountains looming ahead. The bleak and rocky structure seemed foreboding, and the enormity of it made the town seem even more infinitesimal. I continued south on the main street, lacking direction, and found myself on B Street, also known as Millionaire’s Row because of all the old mansions erected so long ago by the millionaire’s who supposedly built this town.
These new millionaires built their homes on the town's highest ground in order to keep a trained eye on their lucrative mines. But it was the block Bethany lived on. I knew I would be safe there… close to my best friend, even though she wouldn’t be able to see or hear me. I never had the chance to say goodbye to her. I didn’t want to. I missed her terribly. I wondered how Bethany was dealing with the news of my passing. Although she has always been resilient, my death had to be devastating. We were like sisters.
I had cringed in pain as my mom told Bethany the bad news. Their phone conversation had been unexpectedly brief. She spoke to Bethany through an avalanche of tears as my friend of two years listened with a strangely calm tone. Bethany had already known so my mom had proceeded in asking her if she would like to say a few words at my service, which was scheduled for Tuesday morning – two days away. Bethany accepted, and told my mom she had to go. Where, I had thought. My mom said she understood and thanked Beth for being an incredible friend to me.
In the streetlamp lit darkness, sudden images of the mammoth and fluttering caped shadow emerged in my head, sending ice cubes through me. I quickly glided down the oak tree lined street. I couldn’t wait to be amongst my friends. Bethany, along with her older brother Nikolas, moved here from Bedwyn City, one of Nickel City’s neighboring towns, about two years ago after losing their parents in a tragic car accident. She and her brother lived in what used to be their great – grandparent’s house.
I noticed that the front windows to their huge house were lit behind the sheer curtains, the lone light shining on the long block like a warning beacon. The homes, appearing obscure, were probably due to most of the residents still hanging out in town, rehashing the events of the day over foam topped and throat scorching beverages, of course.
I observed the moving silhouettes in the living room as they paused, as if on cue. I noticed a thi
rd figure. It was the silhouette of a male. He was tall but not nearly as tall as Nikolas whose towering presence I recognized almost immediately. One of the three shadows was definitely Bethany, who wore her hair pinned high on her head, her staple.
I literally walked right through the towering wrought iron gates which wrapped around the entire property, the abnormal perks of my new existence as a specter. I headed up the narrow cobblestone walkway leading up to the wide front porch. I paused once I was at the base of the two Grecian columns, which always reminded me of some of the historical monuments of Ancient Greece, like the Parthenon in Athens.
Only one other mansion on the lengthy block was styled similar to Bethany and Nikolas’ enormous property. It stood across the street, but about half a block south. Both Grecian styled mansions stood out architecturally amongst all the Victorians. The other Grecian designed estate appeared freshly built, compared to Bethany’s weathered home. The other home had immaculately landscaped grounds which were half a block long in length, as all the properties, although it was rumored to be vacant of any occupants. So of course, the ghost stories surfaced weekly with the arrival of tourists.
I wondered if I would actually meet any of the ghosts. Terrified of the possibilities surrounding the pristine mansion, I quickly climbed the stone steps to Bethany’s home.
The spacious portico wrapped around the entire north end of the mansion. The porch was free of any potted plants or flowers which usually adorned every porch of pretty much every house, in this town, at this time of the year. Besides the fact that the house was one of the largest amongst all the others, which stood tall along B Street since the late nineteenth century, it was practically in ruins, including all the acres surrounding it. A huge yard large enough to build a sizable home surrounded the eastern and southern region of the house. It should’ve been flourishing with foliage as the other gardens surrounding the neighboring mansions. Instead, the garden lay barren and neglected. Even the vacant barn behind the house looked battered.
Betrayal Page 5