Past Poltergist
Chapter 1 - Seductive Struggle
Writen by: Jessica Ritz & Jamine Robison ¢2007-2008
A stale smell bounced through the white painted room, the properly made bed, and wispy curtains.
The room was square, and pointed. Light poured in through the ajar curtains, dust dancing in frenzy
through the beams. The room lay coated in a thin layer of dust; a broken plate lay in shambles on the light
oak floor. If you looked close enough, I thought, you could almost see the faces of the faded being on the pieces
of the plate. It has been a long time, I could tell from the wilted sunflowers in the vase on the vanity. I could tell from
the footsteps engraved in the dust to where I stood. This was her room. The girl my shattered heart belonged to for so long.
In my eyes, not long enough. I can still picture her face in my head, dark haunting eyes that bore into your soul, pried open
your darkest secrets and brought them to play. They were large, and slightly round in shape. I remember how she would hide
behind her thick eye-lashes, taunting me with some unseen gesture of mystery. I could the whispers she shared with me, never lying,
but never revealing the whole truth. She was shrouded in her wavy raven hair, pail ghostly skin, and delicate body. Heck,
I could even recall the last words her enchanting voice recited… But that won't bring her back. I learned that long ago,
but now, stepping into her chamber I could smell her lingering sent. The smell of poppies and cornflowers. I find it ironic actually,
most woman smell like fancy perfume that smells bad and soaks up the fresh air, but she always smelled of poppies and cornflowers.
Old diluted photographs lay tucked into a neat pile, contemplating to myself whether to pick them up and take a trop down
memory lane, or to ask myself for the millionth time… Why? Why, out of every woman she was selected, her drink the one to
be lines with poison. Most of all, why the pills that lay behind her bathroom mirror. It was no use, I'd been asking myself for
five years, and I still wasn't going to get an answer. For a moment I tried to recall why I was even here, why I hadn't fallen to my
knees hopelessly. I didn't care. The thought hit me like when you forget your bait when you're fishing, I didn't care. I didn't care
for her anymore; I cared so much I couldn't core any. Bringing myself to pick up the photograph, I stare upon her face. The
photograph was frozen, she as there smiling at me, trapped in a different time. She was a stranger and a friend at the same time.
Her soul captured inside, never to change, always to sit there smiling. Never to spare a tear for her own fate. She just sat there in
black & white, a maroon stain of dried blood on the bottom. Her blood.
I dropped the photograph as if an electric charge went thorough my body. I fell back a couple steps, my heart racing. She was here.
She lived inside the photograph, and on my memory. The medium in the mirror didn't fade; she smiled at me seductively,
advancing towards my backside. I kept quiet, maybe she would disappear… Maybe she would finally go rest and leave me alone.
I didn't even believe myself. She wouldn't leave, and she never would.
Though, this was not her. She may bare the same features of her, but she was not. Her face was too pail, her eyes lost their lustre.
She looked like a corpse, for her movement was tired and strained. Still, behind the calm expression I held upon my face, was a
beating heart, and loss for words. She was right behind me now, her lips parted, opening slowly as if she were going to say
something she forgotten. Her marble lips closed together, their tempting flair drained away. She was like the color gray, she used
to be black, hard, professional, a siren. Now, she was gray, dull and faded. Her hand came towards my back, I stood my ground.
Before it touched she snapped it back, like I was something godly and unreal. The figure closed its eyes, it looked as if it were
about to faint.
Suddenly, it opened its eyes, to show not my loves dark eyes, but a white empty space. There were no pupils; there were no irises,
just a ghostly, sickly white color. Before I could dart forwards, its mouth opened and let out a horrible screech. High pitched, and
shrill, like nails on a chalkboard. The sound burned my ears as I clasp my hands securely to them, bending over helplessly, squeezing
my eyes shut to stop the pain. It was if the ground was shaking, and the world was spinning at the same time. Then it was over and
the silence filled in the cracks of my ear drums, there was a sick feeling in my stomach and lightness to my head. It was swiftly gone
when I lost the half-conscious state I was in.