+1+
So, Close Addison
I continued to coach myself. To think after all these years Roger DeLune was
only a few feet away. I had walked in the cold for nearly half and hour I
could barley feel my hands but it would all be worth it, in the end.
Enjoy your last peaceful night Roger, you will go to helI and I will
be sure of that.
I still stand by the fact that NightFall was purgatory and not Heaven or Hell.
Roger’s home was large and looming, A unique architecture of mismatched shapes
and hanging shingles, the house appeared stacked uneven and uncared for.
Not a single light was on. I imagined him sleeping peacefully, not expecting
what was only a few feet away from his front door.
I had sensed for a while that Ms. DeLune had followed me. She was slow in
the daunting weather but determined, more so than I ever recalled.
The door on Roger's house barely hung on it's hinges and broke easily
underneath my weight. I hit it twice till the door splinted open. By then Ms.
DeLune had managed to make it down the path.
In an almost serene moment I entered the house of my murderer. It was an
average almost beautiful house, it smelled strongly of something I couldn't detect,
the fire place was burning down to it's embers.
Death,
it smells like death.
“Grandpa ! Grandpa”, Clara yelled as she had now made it over the threshold.
She was trying so hard to protect him , "Where are you"
So,
Clara’s trying to warn Roger. Which as you can imagine does not equal happy
times for Mr. F.
She began to look for her grandfather in his usual haunts; not noticing as I
made my way up the creaky uneven stairs.
Roger slept peacefully, in a simple room with all the necessities and more.
There were numerous photographs, awards honors, instruments dictating his
charmed life. The room would tell the story of his life and his death.
“I’ve been waiting”, he sat up and began moving towards me.
Well,
it’s really Lucie animating his dead body, but okay.
We were face to face for the first time in 50 years, he appeared very calm. Perhaps
he believed himself to be dreaming, or having a nightmare. One I hopped he had
numerous times in the past.
I
don’t know Mr. F I mean THINK. Maybe he’s so calm for a reason.
I began to consider where I should strike him first. Clasped in my hands was
the knife I had taken from Ms. DeLune. The same knife I always kept close at
hand in my home. It was very similar and almost perfect match to the
knife Roger had stabbed me with all those years ago.
So
Shakespearen right ? I wanted it to be the same
knife and for Mr. F to have gone to the DeLune house to steal it back . . .
that would have been awesome. Why is that not in here.
His face was worn with age his hair still appeared youthful, his eyes opened
and turned just his head to look at me.
“You think killing me will make you better, it will make the bitterness go
away.”, his voice was grating as he spoke down to me.
“I know it will”, I remained cordial and optimistic
“Wouldn’t you rather have me rot in prison, humiliated, disgraced ?”, he
now sat up, looking at the knife in my hand.
That would no longer satisfy me.
“Remember this”, I asked him showing him the knife “They stopped making them
that year. . . 1955 was it.”
“It was an accident”, he said moving slowly towards me.
His skin appeared tough it was dark and waxy, almost like a man who actually
worked for a living.
Or
maybe it looks like that because he has been dead for a few days.
“Was it? You stole my life without a bit of remorse.”
“I put you out of your misery, you were pathetic you were never going to amount
to anything. I saved you, Addison."
The old man attempted to reach for the phone, he was so close to me and something came
over me. I reached out to stab him the smooth and sharp edge of
the knife skimming across his face just barely missed his eye, The thick
traction of the knife hitting his skin was like music to my ears, he didn’t
move, he didn’t react.
So
Lucie is messing with him here, because at this point Clara tries to protect
her grandfather who she doesn’t realize is dead yet.
He laughed .
Roger's voice began taunting and encouraging me to strike him again and again
and I did so, till no one would ever recognize him
With each slash across his face I thought of how he killed me because he could,
he got away with it because he was smarter, stronger his life would always be
worth more, and now his precious blood lay spilled on the ground.
Then he became silent
“Please, stop”
The voice stopped me in my tracks
+2+
I blinked and a new reality emerged in front of me.
Roger was lying on the bed, his eyes closed with a blanket still wrapped
around him. I expected to see the grotesque red marks that I had inflicted
covering his face, but there were none.
He was cold.
He was dead.
Fate seemed to laugh at me, so desperate I had been to seek my revenge and here
I finally was ready to take it and he was dead.
Roger had passed peacefully in his sleep, from the looks of it weeks ago
So, Roger DeLune got
away with murder.
He had died alone in his home, his
fire place had continued to burn in his absence.
Still, there was so much blood on the knife in my hand.
I turned to face the mirror behind me not finding my reflection at all.
Instead I found Lucie peering at me. She still appeared pale, her eyes
dark and unwavering. She seemed so real. A very knowing and telling look on her
face with just the slight nod of her head confirmed my worst suspicions
"What a terrible trick, Lucie", I said
My hands were soaked in the fresh blood, I reasoned Lucie had tricked me into
stabbing myself.
No, stabbing yourself
comes later.
I reached down expecting to feel a wound or blood but there was nothing.
“Stop”, the voice begged again.
The voice came from the floor by Roger's bed
“Clara ?”
She kept her hands over her face, streams of blood spilling through her
fingers. Her wounds pulsing as she called for Roger, she stood stumbling over
books and shoes to reach her grandfather. Not yet realizing he was dead
Cause you know her
eyes are filled with blood
“Grandpa”, she shook him, “Grandpa wake up. . . I'm okay. It's okay. . . I'm
home.”
My God, what have I done
“Clara”, she looked up removing her hands from her face revealing the
wounds I had inflicted. 13 bleeding red lines across her face. Her expression
fell as she continued to shake her grandfather, begging for him to awake.
Years of harbored bitter revenge and in truth what I believe would have granted
me peace was taken.
Roger was dead and suddenly it did not matter, nothing. Years of bitter hate
and vengeance has resulted in nothing
NIHILISM
"Leave him alone", she shouted reaching underneath the bed, screaming
in frustration or pain.
Clara knows what
Gramps keeps under the bed . . . it’s a gun.
"Clara, he is dead"
"No", She now had a gun in her hand.
“Now are you happy”, she snapped and I realized she too could see Lucie in the
mirror. Then just as quickly she turned her attention to me, “you promised to
save me but the truth is you don’t know how.”
The corner of my eyes, caught the start of something emerging from
the mirror, a hand it appeared. Without warning Ms. DeLune began to shoot
at the mirror behind me. The slide snapped over her finger she dropped the gun
and fell on her knees in front of her grandfather's body.
So Ghost!Lucie is
coming out of the mirror and Clara being all tramumatized and scared shoots at
her.
I felt a jagged pain on my right hand, it was painful but strangely bearable.
My hand began to shake and I realized I was missing a finger.
Clara
is a really bad shot. So
she shot off Mr. F’s small finger.
My injured hand fell limp and I found my ground walking out of
the house, carrying the tip of the knife in my left hand an innocent woman's
blood still on it. Outside The sun was about to rise.
I refused to believe a good man had lived here. A life had gone on after me. A
man who raised and cherished the same woman I love.
“Are you leaving. Are you done ? ", Ms. DeLune called to me
Ms. DeLune had managed to follow me out of the house, she was still in shock
and full of fear
"Is this not what you wanted”, she said in between tears
And all the blood
streaming down her face.
“I am going to keep my promises.”
I promised Lucie I'd be hers forever, I promised Clara I would save her. I held
the knife steady with both hands now. I had never intended for her to watch or
to know what I did next. I held my breath plunging the blade deep into my
chest, I could feel her cold blood dripping into my wound.
I staggered a few more feet in the woods, before I could not longer move.
I was ready to face my eternity
So, guys I knew I was going to write DSI. I had an idea for it but I wasn’t sure if I was up to it so soon. So when I first wrote this draft I was ready to kill of Mr. F but the second time around I knew I was going to do a sequel.
+3+
It hurt to move, to smile or even to speak. It all happened to fast. A loud
'no" had escaped my lips before I could stop him.
I cursed and followed him through the woods, I tripped over a tree and landed
only feet from where he was lying, the knife still plunged into his
chest. I dragged myself over to where he lay, the fresh wounds on my face still
dripped on to the clean white snow.
So once again I wrote this line in when I knew DSI was going to happen because in many version of Snow White. Snow is desrbied as or is created by Red blood, White Snow and Dark tree bark.
I thought if I
mentioned the black tree bark people would think I was crazy.
He was still breathing
“Addison, wake up”, I shook him.
“Lucie ?”
“No, -“, I let a tear fall, "it's me"
You idiot
“Clara, of course”, he touched my cheek it stung.
“You weren't supposed to. . . why ?.”
“I'm afraid you and I are always just a little. . . to late for each other.”
.
I bent down to kiss him , my hand covered the wound he had inflicted on
himself.
“No, not it’s not please stand up.”
I fell back into the snow trying to help him up, my hands were so cold I fell
again. I hovered over him feeling helpless.
He turned and I followed his gaze, I saw her. The woman from the mirror, She
appeared less than real almost apart of the scenery than really in it. A
compassionate look on her face.
I turned quickly away from her as I saw Emile emerge from the trees,
shocked at what he had come across.
“Clara”, Mr. Fierro spoke so quietly, “This is only way you will ever be at
peace . . . if I join her, just like I promised."
So, Mr. F is planning to die and become a Specter and that was what I was supposed to do. When I first wrote this I wanted Clara to see him as a Spectre like a few years in the future when she happy and then at the end they are able to touch and it cuts there. Then I was like NOOOOO.
“No”, I turned towards Emile, “Emile help me.”
"Don't", Mr. Fierro managed, "Please"
Emile stood firm,as if he were prepared to follow whatever his friends last
wishes. I hated him for it.
“Come on Clara”, Emile tried against his will to pull me away, “There’s nothing
we can do”.
I looked back at Lucie, for the first time their love and friendship seemed so
real. The salt in my tears made the cuts on my face sting but I could barely
feel it. I could hear the sirens in the distance. I wondered how long it would
take for them to find Grandpa in his house. How long till they came looking for
me ?
The thought rejuvenated tears that felt as if they would never dry.
I felt Mr. Fierro’s hand stroking my hair, a swift chill from the last drops of
the cold winter.
They would truly be together forever, just as promised
“Listen”, Mr. Fierro whispered, “The sweetest, the purest kind of love is that
which slips through your fingers . . .”
“No, it's not”
“You are very beautiful.” He smiled as his hands left my face
So he says this while
she is drenches in blood and crying.. . so not really beautiful at all.
I reached down to kiss him, he still felt warm but it was too late to get help.
His eyes closed, in that moment I believe he realized that though his revenge
had gained him nothing it cost him everything.
As quickly as he was in my life he was gone again.
Lucie had her closure, she too now could move on.
+++
Blue and red lights broke through the waning night, blocking the path to Roger
DeLune’s house.
Sheriff Rainer had not been prepared for the scene that awaited her when the
alarm on Roger’s house was triggered.
Though Rainer had a thing for faces she would have never recognize
the missing DeLune girl. The girl had been found covered in blood
clinging to her dead grandfather’s body. She was cold and wet as if she had
been outside, but more importantly she was safe and at home.
Ms. 3 : Again with
this girl thing
It did however make Rainer feel good to see the girl now wrapped in her
parent’s arms, the paramedics had to hold her still as she kept her eyes on the
woods. She remained quiet with no explanation as to where she had been.
It would be Rainer’s’ biggest and most bizarre case. Roger had been dead quite
some time before he was found, the last thing he had done was light his
fireplace. Clara claimed to have no recollection of where she had been or how
she had hurt herself.
“It’s a shame”, Deputy Morrisey said coming over with an umbrella to
guard her from the flurries while watching the reunited family.
“That no one get’s the reward”, Rainer said
“That and . . .she was the pretty one. It’s a shame”
So she’s not longer beautiful.
+++
“Damn you”, Father shouted to the Sheriff, “Look again,I’m tell you that son of
a bitch-sociopath took my daughter. He lives on the house down Olds Mill
Road..”
Oh, the road Clara was
killed on in LL. This comes up AGAIN.
Father pulled me closer to him, his voice filling the halls of the empty
sheriff's station.
“Sir’, the Sheriff warned him, “The Fierro house has been abandoned for
decades. Honestly the entire place looked as if it had been looted, it’s
standing on it’s last leg except . . . ”
For the house of cards
Mr. F built after the failed exoriscm.
“Nonsense, Clara dear tell the officer, we’ve been there. Tell her. A grandson
or something moved in, tell her.”
I kept quiet
“Sir”, Sheriff Rainer cut in, ”The Fierros never had any grandchildren I used
to know them it was just a woman and her brother. They only had a foster
child”
“Yes, it must be—“
“He died years ago”
“This man had pale blue eyes and “
“White hair”, she finished. "Yes he died probably before you were born,
hell before I was born. I'm surprised your father never mentioned it.”
Martin : Holy crap he
was a ghost. Crap. Okay play it cool. Sure you took money from a dead man.
Maybe. He knows that I didn’t use the money to pay for Clara’s ransom. Does she
know ? No this can’t be happening.
Rainer placed the 1955 file on her desk with the details, Father was
speechless to see his father's name listed. While he was busy Rainer turned her
attention back to me.
“Clara, please tell us where have you been.”
“I don’t remember”, I said through my bandages
Secretly I had started to cry, I was quiet so Father wouldn’t notice. I’d
only had a quick glance at my injuries in the ambulance, they were
hideous and the scars and the memory of this night would never go away. The
paramedics said the healing would be the hardest part and I should be thankful
to be alive.
“Clara”, Father pulled me to look at him through the gauze, “Tell Rainer about
Mr. Fierro do you remember sweetheart ?”
Sheriff Rainer looked at me expectantly
“I don’t know who you’re talking about”
"CLARA", he threatened
Martin :I am not crazy. I have not been talking to a ghost. Also my father is dead so I should probably cry or something.
Logic : He was an abusive alcoholic.
Martin : Okay never
mind then
I slipped from his grasp and excused myself to the restroom as Rainer and
father continued to bicker. The front door of the station opened and I saw
Emile by the front door.
I motioned for him to meet me by the backdoor. It felt like years even thought
it had only been hours since I'd seen him.
“Emile, are you alright ?“
“Yes. I just want you to know that I took of took care of
everything. . .everything will be okay”, Emile said , “Maybe if I hadn't gone
back.”
Yes, you did Emile.
You do take care of everything.
I noticed Emile's shoes were covered in dirt and snow and I realized he had
been digging.
“ . . . what about Victor ?”
“He and Joshua are missing”
“Oh”, was all I could say.
“Here”, He pushed an envelope into my hands, “This was all the money he had
access to, I figured you could use it to start over.”
LiLe : Hey, where did Emile get the money from ?
Muse : Ummm
I could hear my father raise his voice and continue to argue with Rainer.
“ I think I’ll give it to my father, I understand he needs the money. I’ll tell
him my grandfather left it to me.”
Emile flashed me a weak smile and we embraced.
"Merry Christmas, Clara"
"Merry Christmas, Emile"
So yeah remember those money troubles ? This money combined with Martin’s inheritance from his dead father means the family is back on top.
+4+
By the end of the night father was equally silent and unsteady. After spending
hours lying in bed with my mother and sisters each of them trying to recall my
memories.
Aww,
Can you picture Clara all bandaged up with her sisters and mother lying in bed
with her.
I finally sat alone in my bedroom. I dug underneath my bed till I found a
silver lock box.
In the bottom I found the picture from my the August charity. The photograph was
very dark but I could make out my white dress and my dance partner. In the
privacy of my room I lit a candle and burned the tip of the photo waiting for
it to catch on and then snuffing it out till it was chard ash.
I blew the candle out and went to sleep
He died (again) to save her. Now that her father thinks Mr. F was ghost Clara has to get rid of all of the evidence of him.
Muse : Good luck with that there’s one piece of evidence she doesn’t know about yet . . .
LiLe : You’re getting annoying
+++
I could take the endless question from my father, I could take the sad looks my
mother gave me when saw my face, I could almost take the nightmares I
occasionally had, I could even--almost-- take my heart breaking all over again
every night.
It was the rumors I couldn't handle.
Some believed my grandfather had taken me hostage, he used me to get money from
my father and that I had killed him to escape. It was imaginative but there was
no evidence. Others reasoned that I had gone insane or I had simply runaway and
was to afraid to admit it.
The truth was no one would ever know what really happened, I was sure of that.
Sheriff Rainer had driven herself mad after where they found the body of
a reverend, blood in the upstairs room and even stranger a house of cards that
had survived the rubble. Nothing indicated the house had been touched since
Mrs. Fierro's death 15 years ago.
Rev. Allen’s body was
found in Mr. F’s grave. Emile put it there.
What was now dubbed the 'Christmas Eve Miracle gained Rainer a promotion to the
NYPD, but she would never leave the case behind, she would never leave
me alone.
NYPD. This comes back
When the New Year came Emile and I met late one night and drove out to the
house. We didn't go inside or get to close. Silently we promised one another
never to venture near the house again, a promise we would always keep.
EPI LOGUE
I
was envious of them
Their
instruments allowed a certain spontaneity to their music.
If
only I could carry the piano with me, it’s rich woody sound and play to my
hearts content to ambling tourist or a wandering couple.
I
kept the soft silk dyed scarf my mother had given me fastened around my head,
covering myself just so, with my eyes slightly to the ground. There would still
be time before the wounds healed altogether.
The
ruins at Ostia Antica seemed to go on for miles and miles, the ruined lives of
those left behind were now amazing structure. Would the little town of
Chataquana become a ruin as this Italian city had ? Would our lives and the
truth be reduced to crumbling buildings.
I
stopped at the edge of the harbor watching the Tiber just below me. It was
quiet with most tourist at lunch. I found a place overlooking the water and
began to work on a composition humming out the notes in my head, hoping to be
back at the apartment before dark.
I
had seen and walked these street a thousand times when I was younger and now
they were home. Here, it was as if nothing changed the people and sight I
believed to be exactly the same as I had seen a million times before.
I
loosened the scarf covering my hair a strong wind picking it up and carrying it
away, my compositions went with it twisting and turning in the air before
landing in the clear blue water and floating peacefully away.
LiLe : Okay, that was a bit of a work out ! *stretches*
Muse : Yeah, but was there enough retrospective ?
LiLe : I think so
Muse : . . . but LiLe
LiLe : What ?
Muse : What about Victor ? Where is he ?
LiLe : I don’t know maybe he will use Joshua’s body and become like a supervillan or something.
Muse: LiLe ?
LiLe : WHAT ?
Muse : WHAT ABOUT A HAPPY ENDING ?! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU ??
LiLe : Look I wanted a shocking ending. The music wrote the story. I think why people like Romeo and Juliet is because there love never had time to become tainted.
Muse : No. You paid a freshman to take your English classes in college you have no room to speak.
Technically : Since Lucie and Fierro are both Spectres can’t they like haunt Clara for the rest of her life. . . the good kind of haunting. He could have been in the last scene. Why can’t he just find a body to posses so he can be human.
LiLe : Mr. F wouldn’t do that it’s unethical and he wasn’t in that last scene
because. . . well . . .
Logic : Plus you didn’t explain how much money Clara gave her family. Is that enough to help them survive. What about Mr. Ciani ? wouldn’t he have remembered Fierro ? Plus where did he get his clothes from ? Plus Clara’s kidnapping was in the news aren’t people going to want answers ?
Muse : What about Peter ? Is she with him now ?
Mrs. 3 : Why are they still calling Clara a girl ? Why does she have to be scarred ? is it like she is being punished for exploring her sexuality. Is the knife a metaphor for. . .
Mr. F: No Funeral ?
Victor : I thought you liked my revenge plan ? I hardly got any Revenge on those two.
Lucie : There is no proof of my HEA
Emile : They only kissed TWICE ? Why ? Plus I didn’t hear any decent I love you’s
Clara : I don’t feel so great
LiLe : OKAY FINE
Sand Desert Iris
Muse : awful name
LiLe : Grrrrrrrrrrrr
Desert Sand Iris
Muse : Not the other one’s better
LiLe : I’ll just used them interchangeably.
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