i have something to share with you

Below this paragraph there is some text. About a thousand words, to be exact. It's something I've worked on, little by little, since sometime in December. I guess technically right now it's a short story, but I wouldn't mind getting some feedback on it. This would be the prologue, if I were to continue with it. It has some inspiration in other stories I've read, maybe movies I've seen, of various genres. If y'all wouldn't mind reading it, and maybe commenting or e-mailing watcha think. Would you want to read more?
(as a sidenote: it has basically no editing. This is just me, my ideas and spell-check, hanging out.)

People are like doorways.

Not in the cliché, windows are the eyes to the soul, sometimes I feel like people look right through me, I see dead people kind of way. For me, some people are doorways. I can see into them. Into their past, into their memories. I can’t read their minds or anything, but in a split second, I know everything they know about themselves...and probably some things they’ve forgotten. Or chosen to forget.

I met Elise the day after I turned twelve, when her family moved into the house across the street from me. She was a year older than I was, but we became inseparable almost immediately. From the moment I met her, I knew I understood her differently than everyone else. I could see into her past, her memories. I understood why she was who she was, without having to ask or learn. I understood the reason to her thinking, the logic behind her problem solving.

What was strange about our whole friendship wasn’t so much that I understood her so well. As kids, you don’t question why your friends are your friends, you simply enjoy playing together. But Elise and I looked and acted so much alike, people assumed we were sisters. We both              had pale skin and the same strangely colored blue-green eyes with golden rings circling the pupil. We both cut our pale, thin blonde hair in a blunt, to-the-shoulders style (though if this was true when we first met, or evolved over time as a ploy to make it harder for people to tell us apart, it’s hard to remember, now.) We were asked on a regular basis if we were twins, where our mother was, if we bought matching clothes. Any time we were asked these questions, we would look at each other and giggle uncontrollably. It was fun having a twin. Fun being able to fool people, to be interchangeable. Every once and a while, we were even able to fool our parents, if we were far enough away or our backs were turned.

The summer after my  first year of high school, Elise met a boy. I knew it would happen sooner or later, and had tried to prepare myself for it, but the reality of our newly separated lives came crashing down on me one Wednesday night, during a particularly bad thunderstorm. Elise and I had a system – when it was storming, she would come over and we would hide out in the basement, eating popcorn, watching  ‘The American President,’ painting our toenails and generally being girly. If the lights went out, we would build a tent of blankets, cushions and chairs to hide out in. Lit only by an old camping lantern, we would tell ghost stories, or tell each other our innermost secrets and desires. Of course, I already knew everything Elise had to tell me, just by looking at her, but that didn’t change the solemnity with which we exchanged these little tidbits of information. And of course, she didn’t know anything of what I was going to tell her, so the mood of the exchange always hinged on her reactions to my secrets. She always had the appropriate reaction, gasping or laughing at the right times in the anecdotes, as though the secrets were a well-rehearsed play, and there was a full house for the performance. I could only hope my reactions were as appropriate as the ones she offered.

                This Wednesday, however, the storm had been in full swing for two hours before I worked up the nerve to run over to her house to see what was wrong. She answered the door, looking breathless and slightly flustered.

                “Kerrigan?”

                “I…uhm…I thought you would come over?” I asked, feeling suddenly out of place and very embarrassed at running through the rain to stand on her doorstep. Elise’s eyes flashed in realization, and she took a deep breath, managing to look both angry and apologetic in the same instance.

                “Craig’s here. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you, but…we’re just kind of hanging out. I guess I forgot about the storm thing.”

                There it was. The storm thing. All of a sudden, it sounded so trivial, unworthy of her time. I could feel my cheeks flushing, and I shrugged, turning to the side to try and hide some of the hurt that I knew she would be able to see in my eyes.  I’m sure she could see it anyway. She always did have a knack for empathy.          

                “Oh. That’s ok, I just wanted to make sure you were ok. So I’ll just head back.” I don’t think I managed to sound as nonchalant as I’d hoped.

                “No, you should stay.” Elise said, frowning slightly, and opening the door wider. The sentiment was genuine, but I could see the wheels turning in her head as to how to rectify the situation, without doing any lasting damage. “We were just going to watch a movie or something. I’m sure Craig wouldn’t care.”

                Despite the look on her face, my anger got the best of me, and I heard myself say ‘Yeah, ok, definitely,’ and stepping across the threshold, into the foyer. Elise looked surprised, though the look faded quickly, and led the way downstairs to the den. Craig was sitting on the couch, and looked at me wordlessly as we entered.

                “Ker’s going to watch with us.” Elise told him, her tone flat and emotionless. Craig immediately looked as uncomfortable as I felt. He looked up at me, and as our eyes locked, I knew everything. It rushed over me, a wave of emotions and words, all tangled together, seamless and more intense than anything I had ever felt from Elise. It stopped me in my tracks, and I felt myself sliding backwards into a chair Elise managed to scoot under me before I completely collapsed.

                I still don’t remember much of the rest of that night. Or the next few weeks. I have vague, fleeting memories of violent emotions – anger, lust, love, rage. Of Craig sitting with me, trying to explain to Elise. Trying to find the right words, and failing. It hurt to see the tears sitting in the corners of her pale eyes.

In the end, we stopped being friends that night. She transferred to a private school, on the other side of town. I watched her move away to college from my bedroom window. After that, she was gone. Almost as if she had ceased to exist. Like a candle, that’s reached the end of its wick.

(all of this is copyright to ME and if you steal it, i'll find you and make you sad. or something like that. just don't steal it.)

click through for picture credit

Thanks!

-C