Clarisse: What Really Happened
Disclaimer: I do not own Fahrenheit 451. Bradbury does.
Clarisse McClellan floated along the moonlit pavement, enjoying the faint whisper of the leaves and the gentle warmth of the soft summer breeze. Her eyes were closed as she wandered aimlessly under the soft light of the crescent moon. Until she realized the breeze carried a faint whiff of kerosene. A fireman.
She stopped suddenly, turning slowly to face him. As her white dress whispered, she became conscious of the sudden silence. Even the crickets had ceased their incessant hum - it was as if the world was dead. In the unnerving silence, the fireman spoke.
"Hello." He said quietly, almost nervously. "My name is Guy Montag."
At the sound of his voice, she ceased to be transfixed by the Phoenix-disc on his chest and the Salamander on his arm. "Hi," she said softly, girlishly back. "I'm Clarisse McClellan."
It was there, she later on mused, that it all began.
In the past, Clarisse McClellan had fled her house to enjoy the solitude, the silent peace of being alone on the moonlit pavement. But now she fled to meet an interesting stranger, the fireman Guy Montag. He was a nice fireman, something she had never before thought possible. Together they had long, rambling conversations. Clarisse enjoyed Montag's unique point of view, so different than that of her family. And it never ceased to amaze her how he was free of society's corrosive influence.
Guy Montag was different. She just knew it. Only two weeks had passed since she first met him, but she could already detect a change in his thinking. With sufficient help, he might even be able to throw off society's oppressive weight of and be truly free.
That was why she was meeting him every night on the moonlit pavement. To change him. To save him. She knew it was possible, contrary to her family's iron-clad belief.
Clarisse froze. She had only been chatting with her uncle, father, and mother about the state of the world, a common pastime, when she had unwittingly let slip that she was seeing Guy Montag every night when she went on her evening walks.
The silence was deafening. The cheerful hum of the room had ceased, and she felt completely ill at ease.
It was her uncle who broke the silence. "Clarisse," he said slowly, enunciating her name. "You must realize that this world is dangerous. That there are not many like us. And that we are different from the rest."
"Yes, darling," her mother chimed in. "You really shouldn't have been seeing Mr. Montag. He is a fireman, with a Phoenix-disc on his chest and a Salamander on his arm. He is dangerous."
"I know!" She protested. "But Guy is different. We could change him. And we can change society!"
"No." Her uncle shocked her with his flat, uncompromising response. "We cannot. We can only survive and await the world's destruction. Society cannot change. It can only be destroyed."
"Society can change! People can too!" She shouted. "I know it can. Please," she said softly, "give him a chance." She turned her deep, soulful, black eyes to her father, who until then had said nothing, begging him for support.
However her hopes, slender white birds, were cruelly dashed against the rocks below. Her father only looked at her steadily before saying harshly, "Clarisse. We cannot risk it. There is no salvation for those who live in the darkness."
At his words she sighed and fell back onto the sofa, defeated. No one in her family understood her. They only thought her a naïve child.
As if to prove her point, her mother said comfortingly, "Clarisse, honey, you have to understand the world as it is, not as you think it should be."
It was her uncle who struck the killing blow though. "We have to leave. It is no longer safe here". The reason, Clarisse's reckless behaviour, hung unspoken in the air.
With a defeated sigh, Clarisse went up to her room and began to pack. She would never see Guy Montag again, and she would never even have the chance to say goodbye. He would never have the chance to escape now; he was be trapped to live out his life under society's stifling influence. As she stood there in her room, she glanced longingly at the moonlit pavement and sadly whispered, "Goodbye, Guy. I'm going to miss you". And with that she turned away, her heart heavy.
Only a few weeks later, Clarisse McClellan watched with her heart in her throat as Guy Montag, her Guy Montag, evaded the Mechanical Hound and ran from the city. She also nearly cried tears of joy when he arrived safely to their circle of vagabonds. People who, like her family, were eagerly awaiting the destruction of the cities. Which coincidentally occurred immediately after Montag had left the city.
"Montag," she said with a gentle smile, "I've missed you. And I'm sorry that I had to leave. I'm sure that they told you that I was dead, killed, no doubt, by the crazy teenagers who speed recklessly through the world. Well, it's not true. In reality my family left. We were afraid you would turn us in. I'm ashamed I left with them. I'm sorry. Would you forgive me?"
Montag's eyes glittered with emotion - she supposed he was overwhelmed by seeing her again. He had thought she was dead. "Clarisse," he said. "I forgive you. Only if you forgive me for burning all those books. Pale white birds full of information."
With a silent nod, she showed she did indeed. "Montag," she said breathlessly, "When we're rebuilding the world, let's be next door neighbors. Let's always go on walks together. Walks on moonlit pavement."
When he smiled at her, she knew she had a true friend. She nodded once and ran to his side, linking her arms with his and asking for every detail of his escape from the city. The future was theirs for the taking.
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