Sylvia's Last Hours

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
I know this is confusing and I really need to edit it and add to it, but I just wanted to put it up and see what people think of it.

Submitted: April 25, 2010

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Submitted: April 25, 2010

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She lay on her side, eyes wide and open, watching the wooden closet door.  Her wispy white-blond hair fell before her brown eyes, her wide eyes, open and staring unblinking at the brass handle. Her breath was shallow and quick, and her heart pounded in her head.  It would happen soon, and she wanted to be awake when it did.
She kept vigil for a couple hours more.  The eerie green glowing letters on her clock slowly ticked away.  12:00, 1:00, 2:00.  Slowly, very slowly, her eyelids began to droop over her large, doe-like eyes.  Finally, they fluttered a couple times and rested at a close.
The brass handle slowly turned.  A hand.  Long translucent fingers outstretched.  Through the thin, clear flesh of the hand, silver-white bones shone in the moonlight that slipped through the window.  The hand was followed by a long and bone like, peeling and scabbed arm. The thing made it's way over to the small girl, who was sleeping on her side.
It sat by her at the foot of the bed, on top of the Barbie colors.  For a while, it sat there and watched her with it's hollow, glassy blue eyes. A smile came upon its face, stretching the taught skin around it's mouth in a way that looked painful.  Dirty teeth were revealed by the smile, and thin white hair fell around it's face.  It watched her, and then ran it's fingers through her blond hair, gently, caressingly.  The girl's large eyes fluttered open and she let out a scream.

--

"I had it again."  I informed Marin, my heart pounding a crazy Indian beat in my head,  "I had it again."
Marin looked at me concerned, a small crease coming between her eyebrows.
"You... had it again."
"I had it again."  I confirmed and wrapped the coat tighter to me.  "It's in third person.  It's a memory of when I was a kid, but demented.  My dad and brother had dreams about her too just before..."
"Sylvia, you don't think your going crazy, do you?"
"I don't know."  I just shake my head.  "She's going to get me, that's all I do know."
"Why would she want you dead?"
I shrug.  "The same reason she wanted Daddy and Solomon dead, I guess.  So I can be with her."
Marin just shook her head.  "Sylvia, your brother and dad died in a car accident.  Your mother had nothing to do with their deaths."
I bite my lip, and decide to change the subject. "So, are we going to Peter's party tonight?"
Marin still looks concerned, but sighs and then nods. "Yeah. Do you want to? We're already late, I thought we'd just watch a movie instead. Maybe you should go to bed early. Y'know, keep the nightmares away."
"No matter what I'm going to dream about her," I reply. "Plus, I already did go to bed early, then I had that goddamn dream." I realize how much I've been complaining to Marin about my dreams. I decide to keep them to myself from now on. "Anywhooo... Whatcha going to wear?"
I follow her from the kitchen to her room. Since the death of my brother and dad, I've lived at my best friend, Marin's house. I have the feeling she's getting sick of me, but I'm sick of me too so I can understand why. Marin fumbles through her drawers and closet and begins to throw things around onto the floor.
"What are you going to wear?"  She asks, holding a dress against her chest and examining it in the mirror.
I sit on her bed by a pair of folded jeans and a lacy tank top.  "I really have no clue.  Do you think we should wear dresses or be more casual?"
Marin bites her lip in thought, then says, "I'm going to wear a dress, I think. No, actually..." her voice trails off as she rummages in a drawer and yanks out a tiny skirt and a tank top. 
I raise my eyebrows, "I thought you were against showing too much skin?"
"Whatever. What are you going to wear?" she asks as she strips down to her underwear and bra to change.
She's already asked me this, but I shrug and say, "Clothes."
Marin rolls her eyes and glances at the clock. "It's 9:15. We're like, more than an hour late. C'mon, just grab something and we'll go."
I look at the clothes strewn around the floor, and sigh. "Okay," I pick up a pair of black corduroys and a plain, tight gray tee shirt. "This?"
Marin sighs. "That's you, alright, Sylvia."  I know she's not happy with what I've chosen, "Just put them on and we'll go."
I grab a pair of little gray cotton shorts and a black low cut tee.
"Better?" I ask.
"A bit." she says.  But, I can see she likes this outfit a heck of a lot better.
I slip into the clothes and some high top navy converse, and grab a blue and green plaid jacket, and we get into her old silver Corolla.  
"We're going to have fun tonight, okay?  Please don't ask me to leave early.  We'll meet at the car when I text you, okay?"  Marin puts her keys into the car, then gives me a long look. "Okay?"
"Okay," I agree, and pop a CD in.
It's an obvious frat party.  Peter is Marin's college friend who invited me and her to this party.  I have a feeling he invited me more out of sympathy than anything else.  I haven't been to a party since the eighth grade, and that was Marin's birthday party.  I guess, my mother's death kind of sucked the life out of me.  Now, as juniors in high school, this is a first for me.  Although we have our loud rap song up as high as it will go, the beat from the fraternity outdoes ours.  Marin turns off the car and steps out, flipping her long brown hair out of her face.  I have to admit that she looked hot in her shiny black high heels, gold jewelery and skimpy outfit.  I feel kind of underdressed, my hair is up in a ponytail and the only jewelery I have is Marin and my friendship charm bracelet.  Marin looks at me.  "Ready?"
"Okay."  I say, and we walk in together.  The party is a classic college one- plastic red cups filled with booze, girls in tiny clothes, guys acting dumb and way too loud music.  I feel the beat pulse through me, and I follow Marin to grab a cup of beer, then we look for Peter, but he finds us first.
"Hey, ladies!"  He comes between us and puts one arm around Marin's shoulders, one around mine, "Glad you could come."
Marin finishes a long sip from her drink, then smiles at him. "Glad you invited us."
It gets kind of awkward from there on out, and soon enough Peter and Marin leave together so I don't have to feel like a third wheel.  I watch the party, and to keep busy, I drink.  There's a group of boys having a race to see who can gulp down the fastest, and some drunks flipping coins into a cup.  For every penny that goes in the cup, the person who made it gets to choose who has to take an item of clothing off.  I go to join them.
"Oooh, newbie!"  One of them cries, a girl with bright eye make up and her shirt off.  "Everyone get the newbie!"
The boys in the circle laugh.  I grab a penny, and we take turns trying to flip them in.  Three out of the group of about seven make it in.
"I choose her!"  One of the boys yells, pointing at me.  I take off a shoe and throw it aside.  The other two yell out for me to take something off too, so I take off my other shoe and a sock.
"Fun game, huh?"  Says the girl bright eye make up, nudging me.  I nod in agreement, and took her beer and downed it since mine was gone.  I want to get drunk, fast.  She looks at me drinking her beer and shrugs.  "Another round!"
We all flip the coins into the cup.  I don't make it, but the girl and some other boy does.  "Newbie!"  She shouts, and I throw off a sock.  The boy chooses me too, and I slip off my belt.
The boy to my right nudges me.  "Why can't you take off your shirt already?"
I don't answer, I just get up and leave.  I'm not having fun, no matter how hard I'm trying.  Not that I'm trying.  I go to the table with all the beer on it, and begin to drink as much as I can.
"Hey."  I feel a hand on my lower back, and turn.
"Hi."  I say.  I'm getting drunk.  Everything is confused and out of focus, but I remember that I don't like this boy, I've seen him before.  
"Come with me."  He says.
"No,"  I say.
"Please?"
He looks at me with eyes that make my heart pound, so I follow him, and go upstairs.
"How have you been, Sylvia?"  He asks.
"I've been good."  Where do I know him from?  But, before I can argue, he presses his warm lips against mine.  They move softly, gently, and his tongue brushes my upper lip.  I kiss him back, and then he pulls himself on top of me.  Everything is blury, and somehow we both get out of clothes and we're kissing in nearly nothing, when I remember.
"Get off me, you dick!" I yell, and shove him away, "Get off!"
"Sylvia..."
"Get off!"  I yell, kicking him away, "Get off!"
"Sylvia, I still love you."  He says.  The words tickle and itch in my ear and I yank away, standing up and pulling on clothes.
"No, you never did!"  He gets up and reaches for me, drunk.  I slap him and begin to run out of the room, but he grabs me by the hair, which is somehow out of his ponytail.  I scream and kick him in the balls, leaving him and the party behind.
Everything is swirling, dancing around me.  I leave the party and walk for Marin's house.  I throw up on the sidewalk, and somehow get home.

--
Slipping, falling.  Reaching, but no hold, nothing to grab onto.  Fingernails scream against a chalkboard and mouth open in silent agony.  Red.
I awake to a black and gray room swirling into vision.  The clock reads 6:24 AM.  I groan and push myself into a sitting position.  My head aches and I rub my hand against my forehead.
I lay down and stare at the closet.  I know she's in there, and it makes my stomach swim and churn.  Slowly and indecisively I slip my feet out from under the covers and put them on the chilly, wooden floor.  I half-expect hands to grab at my ankles and pull me under my bed.  My head pounds with anticipation and I walk to the closet.  The floorboards creak underneath my weight.  I put my hand on the brass handle and slowly turn it, then fling it open.
Nothing.
I close the closet door and make my way backwards back to my bed.  I watch the wood on the door, and glance behind me, expecting hands underneath the bed to again grab my ankles and pull me under.  Again, nothing happens.  Heart still pounding in my head and a knot thick in my throat, I lower myself into bed, only to stifle a scream.
It's there.  The hollow, gray-white eyes, the translucent hands with the glowing bones.
"I'm here for you."  It says in a high, rasping voice.
And my screams are muffled by my mother's zombied body suffocating me and dragging me into the closet.


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