Existence
By Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com
Disclaimer: I highly doubt that I am Meg Cabot. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm not.
Summary: Jesse's thoughts, from first meeting Susannah, to falling in love with her, and then what happens when he can't control what would hurt her the most. (Goes from Shadowland through Haunted in the first 2 chapters, and then the plot of chapter three is my own creation. =) )
"And all this time I've been so hollow inside. . ." --Evanescence
------------------------------------------
This was never fair.
But then again, I wonder, what in life truly is?
Was it fair that I was to be murdered on the eve of my arranged wedding, and later thought of as a fleeting, worthless son? Although that no longer matters to me, at one point long ago, I can remember being outraged at the injustice. I had every intention of following my father's orders. How is it that I was the one to become cursed by the scheming and infidelity of another party? Cursed, to haunt the very same bedroom for over one hundred- fifty years? Maybe there was something I did wrong, that I was being punished for. Maybe I was not always the good, obliging son I thought myself to be. Why else would I be forced to spend eternity alone, without a single soul to share it with?
And then she came along.
All of the sudden, the curse was lifted. Someone, a real, live human being, could see and talk to me.
Granted, this real, live human being did not appear to be as elated as I was about the whole thing—in fact, the girl was deeply disturbed that I was occupying *her* room. I laughed. After all, it had been my room for over a century and a half; to hear it referred to as hers after having only been standing in it for a matter of minutes seemed somewhat ironic to me.
This girl, though. . . this girl was something else. I do not know if she knew how much she inadvertently improved my existence. Her courage, her bravery, and her—albeit sometimes overly so—headstrong behavior was like none I had ever seen before. She was strong.
Yet, part of me knew I would have to protect her. She was strong, yes, but impulsive. She would need someone to watch over her, to help her if she was to succeed in all of the dangerous tasks that were somehow set on her shoulders. I could not help wondering how it was she was chosen. Surely, I thought, someone else would be more suited to such a task. Surely, such a young girl could not be capable of handling such tumult in her daily life.
And then I saw her at work. And I knew. I knew no one else would be more suited to such undertakings. This girl was amazingly tough for someone so young. Yet not invincible.
I do not wish to think what would have happened to her if I had not followed her that first time. I was quite impressed with her initial tactics, actually—she handled that angry young girl quite decently. However, the girl would not cooperate, and became outraged. That is when I had to step in and intervene. That is when I took it upon myself to be her personal guardian. What choice did I have? I was not about to let the first soul I had spoken to in my time as a ghost be cruelly harmed and taken away from me.
From that point on, Susannah and I became friends of sorts. At the least, she stopped threatening to "kick me out," I believe was the term she used.
Over and over again, I helped her, but I honestly believe that she helped me more, and in more ways than I can describe. At last—at long last—I mattered again.
At last, I existed.
I cannot express how much that affected me. To finally have contact with the living world again; it almost made me feel as though I had not died, as though I was still alive.
And then I was brought back to the crushing reality that I was not. This knowledge grew more difficult through that time—ironically so, because for over a century and a half I had accepted my death. Why was it that only now it was getting painful? Why now, just because I had met a girl who could interact with me as though I was alive? A girl who was so determined and pure-hearted, and even humorous—far more so than any girl in my time?
And then I knew. It was because I began to care for her. Deeply.
And I knew that I could never have her.
It took time, but this too I forced myself to accept. But I thought that, if I could not have her, I would protect her with all of my being. I would try to fight my growing feelings for her, and simply be a confidant, a companion. One who would guard and care for her as much as was physically possible for someone of my. . . disposition.
As it turned out, though, my plan backfired. I would have given my life again to save her from unjust harm, but she beat me to it. This girl—no, this young woman—actually sacrificed her own life to prevent my untimely passage onto the next world. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, and yet she carried out her plan anyway.
She had herself, for all intensive purposes, killed.
For me. Me. A man who was already dead.
No one--*no one*--else would have ever even thought of committing such a task. Not for me.
But she had. Susannah cared enough to have the priest exorcise her spirit to save me from my premature departure from the land of the living. The priest, who was not a man, I knew, who would eagerly support such an ordeal.
I could not believe it. And yet there it was.
We returned to her room—our room—and she simply went to bed like nothing had happened. She very well could have died for good, and yet she shrugged it off. Although I do remember that I had to check her vital signs more than once—when she did not awake for many hours, I grew nervous that something was wrong, but thankfully nothing was. As it turns out, she can also sleep like no one I have ever known before, too.
During the time when she was unconscious, I could not think of what to do. I felt as though I was going to be smothered with my feelings for her—now, stronger than ever. The next morning, I left her room briefly to sort my thoughts. I could not think straight, not with her laying there, serene and beautiful and audacious and everything I ever wished for but could not have. It was tearing me up inside.
When I returned, she was no longer sleeping. I decided to wait for her to come back from where ever it was she went to. I needed to talk to her. Desperately.
Finally the door opened and she entered, looking as radiant as I remember, and her green eyes were shimmering with a light that I never appreciated as much as I did then. Suddenly the words I had planned to say to her escaped me—my breath, had I any, caught in my throat. I pushed on, though. I could not wait any longer.
As it turns out, she could. Wait. She did not want to talk, not at all. She began rambling about going out with a friend of hers, to the beach I believe, if I heard correctly, and how talking was not very high on her list of priorities.
So, I walked right up to her, blind with the emotion that was struggling to come out. Fine. You don't want to talk? We don't have to talk. But I could not resist her anymore.
So I kissed her.
And I felt more alive then than I had in all my twenty years of life.
--------------------------------------------
I can't stop! These ideas just keep popping into my head! Ah!
The first two chapters aren't really going to be anything new—basically just bits of the series through Jesse's eyes, and how his feelings developed—but chapter 3 is where the meat (sorry vegetarians! I'm one too, haha, so it kind of made me laugh when a reviewer of "My Life as a Lump of Dough" wrote 'I don't really like pepperoni. . .' ;-) Love you guys!) of the story comes in. That's when my idea actually gets out in writing.
Anyhow, review review review! And don't forget to review my other ones too—After We've Said Goodbye wants more! =)
Chapter two coming soon!
2004 by Carolyn
By Carolyn, Carolyn984@aol.com
Disclaimer: I highly doubt that I am Meg Cabot. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm not.
Summary: Jesse's thoughts, from first meeting Susannah, to falling in love with her, and then what happens when he can't control what would hurt her the most. (Goes from Shadowland through Haunted in the first 2 chapters, and then the plot of chapter three is my own creation. =) )
"And all this time I've been so hollow inside. . ." --Evanescence
------------------------------------------
This was never fair.
But then again, I wonder, what in life truly is?
Was it fair that I was to be murdered on the eve of my arranged wedding, and later thought of as a fleeting, worthless son? Although that no longer matters to me, at one point long ago, I can remember being outraged at the injustice. I had every intention of following my father's orders. How is it that I was the one to become cursed by the scheming and infidelity of another party? Cursed, to haunt the very same bedroom for over one hundred- fifty years? Maybe there was something I did wrong, that I was being punished for. Maybe I was not always the good, obliging son I thought myself to be. Why else would I be forced to spend eternity alone, without a single soul to share it with?
And then she came along.
All of the sudden, the curse was lifted. Someone, a real, live human being, could see and talk to me.
Granted, this real, live human being did not appear to be as elated as I was about the whole thing—in fact, the girl was deeply disturbed that I was occupying *her* room. I laughed. After all, it had been my room for over a century and a half; to hear it referred to as hers after having only been standing in it for a matter of minutes seemed somewhat ironic to me.
This girl, though. . . this girl was something else. I do not know if she knew how much she inadvertently improved my existence. Her courage, her bravery, and her—albeit sometimes overly so—headstrong behavior was like none I had ever seen before. She was strong.
Yet, part of me knew I would have to protect her. She was strong, yes, but impulsive. She would need someone to watch over her, to help her if she was to succeed in all of the dangerous tasks that were somehow set on her shoulders. I could not help wondering how it was she was chosen. Surely, I thought, someone else would be more suited to such a task. Surely, such a young girl could not be capable of handling such tumult in her daily life.
And then I saw her at work. And I knew. I knew no one else would be more suited to such undertakings. This girl was amazingly tough for someone so young. Yet not invincible.
I do not wish to think what would have happened to her if I had not followed her that first time. I was quite impressed with her initial tactics, actually—she handled that angry young girl quite decently. However, the girl would not cooperate, and became outraged. That is when I had to step in and intervene. That is when I took it upon myself to be her personal guardian. What choice did I have? I was not about to let the first soul I had spoken to in my time as a ghost be cruelly harmed and taken away from me.
From that point on, Susannah and I became friends of sorts. At the least, she stopped threatening to "kick me out," I believe was the term she used.
Over and over again, I helped her, but I honestly believe that she helped me more, and in more ways than I can describe. At last—at long last—I mattered again.
At last, I existed.
I cannot express how much that affected me. To finally have contact with the living world again; it almost made me feel as though I had not died, as though I was still alive.
And then I was brought back to the crushing reality that I was not. This knowledge grew more difficult through that time—ironically so, because for over a century and a half I had accepted my death. Why was it that only now it was getting painful? Why now, just because I had met a girl who could interact with me as though I was alive? A girl who was so determined and pure-hearted, and even humorous—far more so than any girl in my time?
And then I knew. It was because I began to care for her. Deeply.
And I knew that I could never have her.
It took time, but this too I forced myself to accept. But I thought that, if I could not have her, I would protect her with all of my being. I would try to fight my growing feelings for her, and simply be a confidant, a companion. One who would guard and care for her as much as was physically possible for someone of my. . . disposition.
As it turned out, though, my plan backfired. I would have given my life again to save her from unjust harm, but she beat me to it. This girl—no, this young woman—actually sacrificed her own life to prevent my untimely passage onto the next world. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, and yet she carried out her plan anyway.
She had herself, for all intensive purposes, killed.
For me. Me. A man who was already dead.
No one--*no one*--else would have ever even thought of committing such a task. Not for me.
But she had. Susannah cared enough to have the priest exorcise her spirit to save me from my premature departure from the land of the living. The priest, who was not a man, I knew, who would eagerly support such an ordeal.
I could not believe it. And yet there it was.
We returned to her room—our room—and she simply went to bed like nothing had happened. She very well could have died for good, and yet she shrugged it off. Although I do remember that I had to check her vital signs more than once—when she did not awake for many hours, I grew nervous that something was wrong, but thankfully nothing was. As it turns out, she can also sleep like no one I have ever known before, too.
During the time when she was unconscious, I could not think of what to do. I felt as though I was going to be smothered with my feelings for her—now, stronger than ever. The next morning, I left her room briefly to sort my thoughts. I could not think straight, not with her laying there, serene and beautiful and audacious and everything I ever wished for but could not have. It was tearing me up inside.
When I returned, she was no longer sleeping. I decided to wait for her to come back from where ever it was she went to. I needed to talk to her. Desperately.
Finally the door opened and she entered, looking as radiant as I remember, and her green eyes were shimmering with a light that I never appreciated as much as I did then. Suddenly the words I had planned to say to her escaped me—my breath, had I any, caught in my throat. I pushed on, though. I could not wait any longer.
As it turns out, she could. Wait. She did not want to talk, not at all. She began rambling about going out with a friend of hers, to the beach I believe, if I heard correctly, and how talking was not very high on her list of priorities.
So, I walked right up to her, blind with the emotion that was struggling to come out. Fine. You don't want to talk? We don't have to talk. But I could not resist her anymore.
So I kissed her.
And I felt more alive then than I had in all my twenty years of life.
--------------------------------------------
I can't stop! These ideas just keep popping into my head! Ah!
The first two chapters aren't really going to be anything new—basically just bits of the series through Jesse's eyes, and how his feelings developed—but chapter 3 is where the meat (sorry vegetarians! I'm one too, haha, so it kind of made me laugh when a reviewer of "My Life as a Lump of Dough" wrote 'I don't really like pepperoni. . .' ;-) Love you guys!) of the story comes in. That's when my idea actually gets out in writing.
Anyhow, review review review! And don't forget to review my other ones too—After We've Said Goodbye wants more! =)
Chapter two coming soon!
2004 by Carolyn