Fan Fiction
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What Grief Has Made, Part Sixteen
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“No!”
“YES! BRING ME BACK!”
“I can’t,” Jenny sighed, a silent tear sliding down her cheek. “I don’t know how.”
“JUST WRITE!”
“It’s not that simple.”
“WHY NOT?”
“I’m ….” She groped for words. “I’m not that person anymore, Sarah! I…I don’t have that in me any more.”
“HAVE WHAT?”
Jenny buried her face in her hands. “The goodness. The conscience. I’m different, Sarah. I’ve changed.”
‘YOU NEED ME!”
Jenny stopped and thought for a long moment. Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe she did need her. She wasn’t happy being who she was without her. Maybe Sarah was the part of her that knew the right things to do. Maybe….”
‘BRING ME BACK!”
Jenny took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll try. But I need to know something.”
“WHAT?”
“Was it you?”
“????”
“Was it you that accepted Tim’s proposal?”
“OF COURSE! I LOVE HIM. I’VE ALWAYS LOVED HIM.”
“Sarah…” Jenny felt a chill run through her. It seemed so ridiculous. And yet…it somehow rang true. The way she and Tim met. The way she fell in love with him, as though it was something she was supposed to do, rather than something she wanted. How would Sarah react to find out they’d broken up.
“I ALREADY KNOW THAT! I’LL FIX IT!”
“I’m not sure I want it fixed.”
“LEAVE EVERYTHING TO ME, JENNY. JUST BRING ME BACK! EVERYTHING WILL BE BETTER. YOU’LL SEE.”
Jenny sighed, cleared, the screen, closed her eyes and remembered the last Sarah story she’d written…the death…the funeral.
*
In the utter darkness, Sarah opened her eyes and took a shuddery breath. There wasn’t much air. She didn’t know where she was. She reached out with her hands and immediately stopped a few inches above her face. ‘Where am I?” she asked. She felt her surroundings, pushing at the invisible barriers, trying to stay calm. She was in a box! Why? She fought to calm her breath. Think. What happened? Where was she? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember! Something about water, getting wet, not able to breath!
She screamed and screamed and screamed, and began hitting her hands against the confinement, kicking with her feet. She couldn’t get enough leverage but she kept pushing up with her hands and her feet until she felt the lid begin to give. An inch. Two inches. With agonizing slowness, she kept pushing until she realized that something was rushing into the box … dirt. She could smell it. Then she knew! She’d been buried alive. She screamed again and pushed harder, harder still, harder again, taking a deep breath and holding it as the loose soil began to pour into what she now knew was her coffin.
Finally there was enough of an opening that she could get her hands through. She braced herself and pushed harder until the opening was wide enough for her to begin clawing her way through. She scraped herself on the wood, kept digging with her hands, praying she could reach the top before she had to draw another breath.
Above the loose red dirt on Sarah Schuster’s grave, one hand pushed through, nails bleeding, then the other, clawing the dirt away, pulling herself up until finally her head was free. She sucked in air, coughed, breathed again, and slowly struggled to free herself from the grave dirt.
Finally, she was above ground, rocking back and forth on hands and knees, keening softly until she was able to struggle to her feet. She staggered and swayed, face uplifted, shaking the dirt out of her hair. Something inside seemed to go deadly cold. Then she smiled, a grim almost cavernous smile, as she walked east, down the worn path, away from the gravesite. “Won’t Mamma be surprised?” she began to laugh.
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WOW. Poor Jenny thanks