Krystyna Kapner
'Shiver' by: Maggie Stiefvater
Rewrite The Ending
Chapter Sixty-Seven ∙ Sam
15◦F
I watched her, invisible though I was. I watched her knock ice off the bird feeder, focused intently on the task, never looking into the woods. By not looking into the woods, perhaps she thought she could forget about the wolves, the golden forest, and me. Maybe she felt that if she didn't remember, she'd never forget. But I wished she would look up, so I could see her face, pretend she could see me, and everything was OK. She didn't though. Just kept herself busy with the bird feeder.
When all the ice from the bird feeder lay on the ground in cool slithers, she finally glanced up at the woods, and for a second, her eyes scanned over the lanky figures of the trees, the stout bushes, and right through me. She didn't see me. How could she not see me? I could see her- she was biting her trembling lip. I cried out in bitter disappointment, raising my hands to the sky and staring into the cold sunlight. She could not hear me, she could not see me; I wasn't real! I was just a consciousness floating around, imagining myself a body that no one else could see, would ever see. "Is there no justice in the world?" I screamed at no one in particular. And then the thought entered my head gently, like a fragile butterfly landing.
I was Sam.
I was Sam.
I was Sam.
I was Sam, and I could still remember her, not fear her, still see her (even if she couldn't see me,) and I was Sam.
I hugged myself tightly, even though I couldn't feel cold. I still was able to love her. I could feel without touching- a gift and a curse. My head turned to watch her, yellow eyes staring intensely at her, as if, by sheer will, I could make her see me. But she just stood at the steps to her house, eyes wandering fretfully around the yard, before she finally entered her house, defeated.
I tried to follow her. I moved my feet, I tried imagining myself there next to her, and I even tried slithering my presence across the ground like a snake. However, no matter what I tried, I could never get beyond the woods. I was bound, as if I was attached to a chain that was just short of her- just short of life. I could see her, just out of reach, cooking a meal for her family in the kitchen. If only she would come into the woods, then maybe, just maybe, she could see me. Or sense my presence. Or however it was that people interacted with ghosts.
I sighed heavily, and when I did I only half expected to see a big puff of white to appear in the frigid air around me. But no, nothing. Why? Because I was nothing. I wasn't real. I didn't scientifically exist. Yet I was somehow here, as if I wasn't finished with this life, like I needed closure.
Somehow, I was sure I needed Grace. Could I truly be Sam without Grace?
If only she would come into the woods..!
Chapter Sixty-Eight ∙ Grace
25◦F
I couldn't go into the woods, not ever. The memories, what could have been, and what wasn't were all too painful for me to bear- and the woods were at the heart of that. If I could just get away from them, maybe I could forget… I mean, after all, I could hardly wrap my head around the fact that he was gone. Sa- No. I couldn't say the name, couldn't think it. And if I did, my sanity, barley held as it was, would surely slip through my fingers like sand.
But I couldn't forget about the wolves. Try as I might to escape the pull of the woods, my eyes always seemed to wander to the back window of the kitchen. I suppose it could have been simple habit. After all, I'd been watching the woods for six long years, in the winter especially, when my wolf was always there. But where was he now? Sometimes I forgot. I'd search for paw prints in the snow, only to remember…
God, I needed to get away from here.
But there was still that pull to the forest that insistently yanked on my conscious mind, and sometimes on my legs, and I would find myself walking to the back door to go out into the woods and look for… Him. But I never let myself bend to the desire in my heart that my mind knew would only lead to more pain.
Sometimes, I liked to think he was watching over me, still in the woods.
Sometimes, I blatantly told myself he was dead.
But something I always told myself was this: you'll never go into the woods again, Grace. Ever.
And that's how it was.
And that's how it remains.
Fin.