Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Like Me or anything related to Dead Like Me. Just this story.
1. Reviews: more reviews, more chapters simple as that. Constructive criticism is welcome. But only if it is constructive.
Chapter summary: Daisy has a nightmare as the anniversary of her death nears. Here we go!
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"Cut! That's a scene people!"
A short, brown haired man wearing a checkered tweed suit, puffed his cigar as he adjusted a film reel inside a large tripod camera.
"Okay everyone, lets do scene twenty-two, the one we rehearsed all yesterday. Wait just a moment." He stopped and looked at the two actors on the scene, deep in thought.
"Gable, you need to move over to the left a little bit. Great. No, not you Miss Adair, you just stay where you are . . . no, wait. There is still something not quite right here." He snapped his fingers.
"I got it now! Gable we need to find a shorter hat for you." Said the cigar smoking producer. He walked over and took the hat off Clark Gable's head and threw it to a crew member off the set.
"That hat hid your eyes. Simply will not suffice." He said as he shook his head. He motioned to Daisy and said,
"Miss Adair?" She did not look up. She was too busy inspecting her new manicure to hear him.
"Daisy Adair!" said the man a little louder. She looked up. He continued speaking.
"Miss Adair, would you mind going downstairs to costume storage and get a shorter hat?"
"Yes, sir." She replied. She started to walk toward the stairs, lifting up her long dress so she wouldn't trip. As she was keeping an eye on the front of her dress, she didn't look up to see where she was going, and couldn't avoid the collision with a woman near the top of the stairs.
"Oh I'm sorry Miss . . . I'm sorry but what is your name?" Asked the woman.
"Daisy, Daisy Adair. Do you work with the stage crew?" asked Daisy.
"Yes, yes that's right, the stage crew.. Sorry about bumping into you, I reckon I should have paid more attention. Are you hurt, Miss Adair?" Asked the woman
"No. I'm ok. Sorry, but I have no time to chat. I must to go to costumes and get a new hat. The director is so tempermental. You know how it is. Anyways, it was nice meeting you." With that, Daisy turned and started down the stairs. The strange woman reached out and touched Daisy's shoulder. Daisy stopped and turned around. But the woman was nowhere to be seen. Daisy shivered and continued on.
Daisy lifted her poofy victorian style dress as she walked down the old wooden stairwell. She stopped halfway down and sniffed the air and scrunched her face.
"Eww! What is that horrid stench?"
She shrugged it off and continued down to the dingy basement. Once in the basement she looked around. No one else was there. The basement itself was small. Not half as big as the upstairs area of the theater was. A single yellow lightbulb hung from the ceiling conveying the many dust-covered objects scattered around the messy basement. Daisy covered her nose with her dress.
'Smells like something burning. I'll have to tell the cleaning crew when I get back upstairs.' She thought to herself. Daisy spotted the little door to the costume room. She walked over and turned the brass knob. It wouldn't turn. She jiggled the door and knob. It clicked and creaked inwards, opening all the way. She walked into the room which was filled with dresses, suits, hats, and shoes of all types.
She coughed. This is definitely where the smell was coming from Daisy saw smoke coming from around the corner. This caught her immediate attention. She walked around the corner. She gasped. A costume rack had caught fire! The fire was spreading quickly, and upon a slight closer inspection, Daisy noticed a broken kerosene lamp at the foot of the flamming rack. Daisy dropped the hat she was holding and made a panicked run for the door. She was almost there but she tripped over her dress. As she fell, she reached out for something to grab onto. Nothing was there to break her fall, and in the process she knocked the door closed when her hand hit the side of it.
Daisy scrambled to her feet and grabbed the brass knob to open the door but it did not turn. She tried again. Nothing. With a scream of frustration she used all of her weight to shake the knob. She felt something come loose in her petite hand. The brass doorknob had broken off completely.
"NO!" she shrieked, as she desperately clawed at the crack between the door and the doorframe. It was getting hot, fast, in the room. Too hot for Daisy. Each breath drew waves of searing heat and smoke into her lungs, causing her to cough. She looked over her shoulder. Her blue eyes grew wide as she saw that the fire was not far away from her. Fifteen feet at most.
"HELP ME!" she screamed as she pounded on the door with her fists. The fire bell started to ring. Daisy heard the commotion of people yelling and running above her. For an instant there was a flicker of hope. 'Maybe they will find me and let me out!' she thought. But that hope died instantly when she no longer heard noise above her, nor anyone coming down the stairs to her rescue. They forgot her.
"No! No! NO! I'M STILL IN HERE! HELP ME!" she shrieked as loud as she could manage in the smoke-filled room. Daisy looked behind her. The scorching flames were now less than ten feet away from her. She pounded on the door again using all the strength she could muster, bruising her hands and wrists with the force of her desperation of each pound on the door. Futile efforts. No one was coming. No one was going to come, and she knew it. A thick black wall of smoke engulfed her body, smothering her. This was it. The realization hit her hard. This was how she, Daisy Adair, was going to die. The heat was now unbearable. Daisy slid down to the floor, She did not want to die this way. She wanted to die surrounded by loved ones . . . and her true love. Tears now ran down her cheeks. She uttered choked sobs between ragged coughing and gagging from the deadly blanket of black smoke that surrounded her as she thought to herself.
'Why has no one ever loved me?'
Then everything stopped. Daisy Adair died.
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Daisy awoke with a start. Her breathing coming in quick shaky gasps. Her cheeks were wet with a mixture of tears and perspiration. She put a trembling hand to her eyes and breathed deeply trying to calm herself, but still not able to shake the feeling of dread that remained deep in the pit of her stomach. George opened the door and ran in. The teenager was half asleep and frantic.
"Daisy?! What's wrong? I heard you screaming!!"
Not trusting her own voice, Daisy just shook her head keeping her hand to her eyes and bowed her head as two fresh tears made their way down her cheeks.
"Daisy?" said George putting a hand on Daisys shoulder. Her voice, softer now, was filled with concern for her friend.
"Go back to bed Georgia. It was just a nightmare." Whispered Daisy.
"Ok. . . do you need anything? Glass of water or. . . anything?"
Daisy shook her head. George looked at her, knowing very well it was more than the average nightmare, Daisy never had nightmares. But George also knew there was nothing more she could do. She walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her.
Daisy heard the low murmur of voices as George spoke with Mason out in the hallway. She glanced at her clock-radio. 4:30am it blinked. Daisy sniffed and wiped her eyes. She looked at the calender. In three short days it will be her death anniversary. Which, unfortunately for Daisy, meant more nightmares to come.
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Author's note: I've revised numerous spelling errors and grammatical errors in this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, placing a review is only a short click away, and GREATLY appreciated!!
