WEBSITE:
http://www.geocities.com/lady_vader21/FanWork.html
Disclaimer: As you know, the
characters Mulder and Scully are Chris Carters brain child, and all rights
belong to him, Fox, 1013 etc. I'm getting no money from this, it's all
in fun.
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I was almost killed, it keeps
running through my mind. And almost killed because Mulder's "do you have
a date" Scully made it sound like it was the most impossible occurance
on the planet Earth. So I showed him up by going out with Ed Jerse and
almost got killed. Had I asked for Ed Jerse? Wanted someone like him the
same way I wanted Z. Z, I haven't thought about him in awhile.
He came into my life with that
first puff. I stole the ciggarete two days ago, getting a thrill out of
just having the thing. But like a siren, it called me to smoke it. Of course,
like most, I gagged and coughed till I was blue in the face that first
time, but it didn't stop me. This was only a challege to master it without
such effects. So I continued on the porch, in my pink pajamas, wearing
a flanel robe and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers while the house slept.
But my high outweighed my silly apparel. And that high was not a product
of the nicotine, much like having stealing the cigarette, the thrill was
in the forbidden, the mysterious, the unknown.
"Shouldn't you be in bed little
Scully," a voice rattled in the shadows.
I quickly tried to put out the
cigarette, nearly falling off my perch on the step before I recognized
the voice as that of Z. I sighed in relief, but was still angry at him
for ruining my experiment with ciggarettes.
"Shouldn't you be at home Mr.
Z," I replied. Z had been derived from his last name Zalinsky. Often the
only one in his class with a Z in his last name, a teacher of his had begun
calling him Mr. Z. His friends caught on and soon everyone was calling
him Z.
"I didn't know you were so saucy
little Scully," Z shot back, winking at me.
Well that did it, the wink had
me blushing and I was praying that the darkness around him would keep him
from seeing.
"There's a lot of things you
don't know about me," I said shaking the ashes from my Pajamas and turning
my bunny slippers toward the door.
I think I had retained a cool
demeanor, but the truth be told, I was crazy about Z and he had winked
at me. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think, Z was my god. Unfortunatly,
he was a seventeen year old high school student and I was still a fourteen
year old girl, barely graduated from the ranks of junior high. However,
as I snuck back to my room, my mind was filled with Z. His image was etched
in my mind, that long black hair that his father constantly told him to
cut, his slim form that bespoke grace with each step, those unknown mysterious
eyes that had remained hidden behind those smoked glasses for as long as
I could remmeber, and that leather jacket. It seemed tailored to fall just
right on his body, to fit his personality, but he in fact had picked it
up for five dollars at a garage sale. I only knew this because he and my
sister Melissa had been going out at the time.
No more hell was raised in outr
house than when those two were dating. Lucky for me, that was long over.
My crush on Z was never shared with my sister, but she figured it out.
She knew me better than I ever gave her credit for. My big brother Bill
had no patience for Z, dating bhis sister or not. I think Bill was just
mad that Z didn't worship him the way he had when they were younger. Before
Charles was born, Z had been his surrogate little brother. He was obviously
jealouse when Z decided hanging out with his sister was more stimulating
than hanging out with him.
Before going back to bed, I stole
another ciggarette. If the first one brought Z to me, I couldn't wait to
smoke another. The next morning, I sat through breakfast with it in my
pocket sure someone would see the outline of it or somehow catch something
was off about me and find it. Z was our resident bad boy so before the
falling out with his father, I imagin this is how Z felt. Like he was on
the edge of trouble, pushing his limits just to see when they would snap,
if they would snap.
After school, I found a quiet
place and smoked my second cigarette. I didn't gag or cough, but it was
still the forbidden nature that excited me more than anything. And again,
as if beakoned by the smoke, he appeared.
"You know these things can become
very addicting little Scully," he said with that seductive smile.
"Why do call me little Scully."
"Because your Missy's little
sister."
"Charles is the baby, not me."
"Yes, I know," Z said reaching
out to pull the ciggarette from my mouth, his finger brushing my lips.
I always pin point that as my first erotic momment, because just the feel
of Z's finger brushing my lip, sent shivers from the point of contact to
the base of my spine and back again. He took a few puffs before he handed
it back to me.
"So, How long have you been smoking?"
"Counting today? This is my second
one," I admitted reluctantly.
"Why do you do it?"
"I don't know, just because I
want to."
"Are you sure there's no reason?"
Z asked as he removed the smoked glassed I thought unremovable.
My first view of his true eyes
had me frizled. They were green, beautiful emerald green eyes like his
mother, rest in peace. I could have melted the moment, the masterpeice
that was my god had been completed. I prayed I wasn't looking as stunned
as I felt.
"Little Scully, it's your choice,
now that you've tempted yourself, you can either step forward or back."
"What do you mean?"
"Are you planning for this to
lead you back or forward."
"Neither, just experimenting."
"And what else would you like
to experiment with little Scully," he replied, almost hissing the S in
my name. A sudden warmth flushed my over me, little Scully was easily becoming
my favorite term of endearment. It wasn't as if he was making fun of my
age or my height, just creativly finding a way to identify me. But I knew
I was just a little sister type to him, if he identified me in relation
to my sister. Though my actual big brother would have killed me for stealing
a ciggarete, let alone smoking it.
"Are you up for an adventure
little Scully?" he asked presenting his hand. I put out my ciggarette and
took it before my brain fully processed the action. Amazingly, his hand
was soft, really soft and warm. For some reason, I expected the hands of
this forbidden man to be corse and hard. But it was as warm and soft as
a newborn.
We walked in silence to an abandoned
house that had been deamned haunted by us all. No one went there on purpose,
kids rode their bikes a little faster when they went by it. I myself had
crashed into another bike rushing past. The broken bike still sat in the
garage. But Melissa, who's secrets I held like treasures, had went in with
Z and lost her virginity. She said that Z had brought her hear, challeged
her to face her fear, and then taken her in a moment of pure passion. Melissa
didn't have much joy in her voice on the subject of Z anymore, except when
recalling that moment.
"Did Missy tell you about this
place?"
"I already know all the ghost
stories."
"That's not what I'm talking
about and you know it."
"Well I figure she wouldn't have
told her brothers or her father. And your mother doesn't seem like the
type to discuss those type of things. So I figure she told her tough little
sister."
"Tough."
"Sometimes Missy feels left out,
you and the boys. You're the little apple of your father 's eye. You wanted
to learn to sail, to do whatever the boys did. She's jealous of that bond
between you and him. You even have your own little nicknames."
"She's not jealous," I said really
doubting anything he said. I was the one who was jealous, my sister was
free I was jailed by my own need to be accepted by my father and my brothers.
What did Z think I was rebeling?
"Dana," a voice yelled in the
distance. I didn't recognize the shrill, sharp, almost disciplinary like
tone as belonging to Melissa right away. And when I did I was quite surprise,
only dad, Bill, and mom had ever exbited this tone before.
"Dana, what are you doing?" she
asked ripping my hand from Z's.
"Nothing," I replied as innocently
as possible.
"Nothing? Here, with him?"
"You're not mom"
"Well, I'm sure mom or DAD wouldn't
approve of him, or this," Melissa said pulling the ciggarette from my pocket.
Despite becoming a Melissa I
didn't know, I was glad it was her dragging me home and not dad. It turned
out she had smelled the smoke on me when I snuck back in bed that night.
She didn't say anything else about Z on the way home or that evening. So
I thought the issue had been dropped. But that night when Melissa and I
were alone in the room, he came up again.
"I know the look, I had it,"
she said softly.
"What look?"
"Your flirting with danger and
it's a high. And with each high, you just want to go further, because you
need to top the last just to feel the same. Dana, he's intracing, I know,
but. . ."
"But what?"
"Your not ready for him."
She was just jealous. Stay away
from Z? He came to me and I liked it. Telling me to stay away now was like
letting me lick a lolly pop then telling me never to eat sweets again.
I couldn't do it.
I was restless that night, tossing
and turning. Kicking off my covers, pulling them on. Staring at the clock,
thinking hours had passed only to discover it was minutes. As soon as I
was sure Melissa was asleep I jumped out of bed and put on jeans and a
t-shirt. And I rarely wore wore jeans. Completing the quick outfit with
sneakers, I stole a couple ciggarettes and left the house. I swiped my
brother's bike and headed right for the haunted house. I have yet to figure
out what motivated me to any of these actions. I knew if my brother found
out I had taken his bike, he would kill me. That only uped the stakes of
my gamble with danger.
Though I could only admit it
to myself, being alone in the dark scared me. I had only been facing that
fear recently. But tonight, I was daring fear to make me run. I needed
to go in that house, to know what my rational mind already knew, there
were no ghost.
In the light of day, beside Z,
our resident haunted house had looked like nothing. But in even at a distance,
the darkness that sorounded it was spooky, haunting, erie, all those things
that make haunted houses crown their names. All it was missing was some
hundred year old owner that children would crown a witch. Many proclaimed
creepy sounds had come from the home, especially around Halloween.
"Boo," a voice said, giving me
a jolt. Z laughed as he skateboarded around me. I couldn't believe I hadn't
heard his approach.
"Z, you nearly made me fall off
my brother's bike"
"Did I?"
"How did you know I would be
here?"
"How did you know I would?"
"So little Scully, are you going
on or are you afraid of ghost?"
"I'm not afraid of ghost, I don't
believe in them."
"Can I tell you a story little
Scully?"
"What's it about?"
"It's the same story your sister
told you, except from my lips."
As he said the word lips, my
eyes were glued to his.
"Tell me the story," I finally
said. He presented me with his soft hand again. I took it and stepped away
from my brother's bike. Knowing it would proably hit the ground and wind
up scratched. Their was this energy transferred between us through that
contact. All I knew and cared about was this moment with him.
"Your sister and I talked about
it all the time, going inside the "haunted" house. First we just kind of
walked past it slowly, always during the day. We'd talk about how much
we feared it when we were little kids and pretend we didn't still fear
it."
He walked me toward the steps
of the house. My legs turned to jelly with each step, both because of the
thrill of being with him, my own immature irrational fear of the place,
and from the idea of doing something forbidden. I was with Z, an older
guy, the troublemaker my father didn't want near his girls. We stopped
at the steps and sat down.
"Then we statarted sitting on
these steps, talking about all the "evil" stories we heard about this house
and how rediculose some of them were, laughing at it. We always had one
eye one the door, expecting something to rush at us or chase us away."
Melissa had never told me about
these baby steps, she had made it seem like they just challenged the house
one day. Burst in, taken the bull by the horns, and errupted into passion.
"Are you ready little Scully?"
"For what?" I said shocked at
this up front invitation.
"To go inside? That's what you
came here for."
I gulped.
"Sink or swim little Scully."
"Swim," I yelled and ran into
the house before I lost my nerve. But once I was inside, I asked myself
what in the hell I was doing. I was tapped on the shoulder and yelled before
rationalizing that Z must have came in behind me. He pulled out a flashlight.
