Kimba here…once again I apologize for the delay (yes, I know I do this too much). I usually try to make
sure that I've updated this story at least before its no longer in the top 50 most recently updated. But heh, I
guess I'm just a tad late.
Okay, I've thought long and hard and I'd like to dedicate this story to: Offcentre- for beta reading and
putting up with my lack of grammar skills. Jedy- for being such a great friend when I was going through
some hard times. And finally in loving memory of the idea, 'The Patakis'- the world will never known
what it missed out on.
Disclaimer: Can't say that I'm the owner of either Hey Arnold! or the lyrics of the song 'This Old Town'
*no, this is not a songfic
Finally….
Chapter 5: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
(Not a very promising title is it?)
The girl stared at the hole. Some of her blonde hair had fallen out of her pigtails and the strands clung to
her neck, which glistened with sweat. She swallowed hard and felt her chest heave with each shuddering
breath.
The flames continued to roar; their sound was deafening. The light of the fire played across her reddened
face while she lay on the tiled floor. She looked over the shoulder at the tempting window, but then turned
back hastily, the decision made. She was not going to leave. Not without him.
It was her fault. If she had done things just a little differently then…well, then she wouldn't be on the tiled
floor, watching the school burn down and wanting to go down with it. But then again, maybe it was not her
fault. Maybe it was not anyone's. Helga looked thoughtful for a moment, ignoring the mix of yellow,
orange, and red, that continued to spread. Perhaps this was what was supposed to happen. She scowled to
herself. She wished fate were standing right in front of her- she was more than ready to introduce it to ol'
Betsy.
Suddenly a piece of the roof above her fell and came crashing on top of the hole, crushing a few flames as
it plummeted downwards. The girl's mouth opened a little, speechless as she saw what some of the flames
had been blocking. She stood up rapidly, thankful that she had kept the rope, which had not yet fallen to
the clutches of the fire.
"Arnold!" she screamed hoarsely with her aching throat.
Arnold looked over his shoulder at her, startled that she was still there. "Helga- just get out of here!"
cried the tiny boy, dangling onto the edge on the far side.
Helga looked back at him, one hand clutching the rope. She scowled at him, eyes piercing with their
intensity. "NO!" Her voice was stubborn and strong, hiding the aching pain that lurked in her throat and
lungs.
She grabbed the rope with both hands and backed up so her body was pressed against the wall. She
mustered up all the energy she had left and took a running start. Her long legs sailed over the hole and
landed inexpertly on the far ledge. She stood there a moment, regaining her breath before she turned
around to face him.
His hands were holding on to the edge while his legs dangled in the air. His body could feel the closeness
of the flames, and he did not cry out when he felt it catch on his clothes. Arnold could hear Helga gasp, but
he refused to look at her, preferring to close his eyes and shut out everything. It burned through his clothes,
and he let his grip on the wood loosen.
'Just let go…it'll all be over then…just let go.' A strange, stern voice commanded him to do so. 'End the
pain…it's easier this way.' He bit his lip hard and allowed the blood to trickle down and stain what was
left of his white shirt. 'It hurts…it burns so bad…'
Helga, sensing his movements, dived towards him, still clutching the rope. She extended her hands out to
him. Horrified, she saw his filthy, burned hands suddenly let go of the ledge. She screamed.
"Arnold!!" He disappeared into the darkness.
Helga dove after him, one hand extended. She grabbed something- a leg, to be more accurate- and then
came to a sudden halt, hanging in mid-air. They dangled there, Helga with one hand still clutching the rope
and with the other holding onto Arnold.
Perspiration formed on her forehead and dripped down her cheeks. Both arms were strained and she was
well aware that she could not hold him much longer. She glanced up at the opening in the ceiling, at the
hole, noticing that it was about ten feet above them. All the while the flames burned fiercely a mere few
inches away.
Arnold looked up at her, his pained green eyes pleading. "Let go of me, Helga, just let go," he begged.
Helga shook her head defiantly. Her eyes scanned around the corridor or what was left of it. It was dark
and she could hardly see. Suddenly, in the corner of one of her eyes she spotted a window of the 1st floor.
Her blue eyes enlarged as she saw the images of the fire and themselves on the panes.
"Arnold, we can just swing out of here and through that window!" Arnold adjusted himself so he could see
the place Helga was referring to and how far off it was. "I'll get the rope swinging and then when the
time's right I'll let go, okay?"
Without warning, the girl coughed, her whole body shaking. The child looked up at his companion, feeling
guilt pulse circulate through his arteries. "Are you sure you can make it, Helga? I mean, if it were just
you, you probably could, but there's two of us."
Blue eyes shone savagely. "Do you know have any other way?!" she snapped, but then softened. "You
have to trust me- it's our only chance… please?"
Arnold looked thoughtful. How could he trust the girl who had spent her entire life torturing him? How
could anyone trust a person who would trip him at any given opportunity and mock him with petty insults?
But then again, after everything that had happened…how fear had brought out a softer side in her. She had
told him that he should have left her there, that she wished he had abandoned her…almost as if all she had
ever wanted was simply for him to be…
"I trust you…" They began to swing and the momentum grew until suddenly he could feel Helga's grip on
the rope release. Was it too early? Was it too late? He did not seize a chance to see because
unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
****************************************
Gerald watched the ground. He could hear the screams and the loud cracking sounds of the splintered
wood and the fire engulfing it. Gone. All gone. The building, two of his classmates, his best friend- were
no more. Emptiness surged inside of him and seemed to take control of him. He gave up for the first time
that night, letting the spasms of grief shake his body and allowing the sobs to nearly choke him.
He heard glass shattering, but he did not even bother to look up. He could not bear the sight anymore; the
strength he had at one point possessed had vanished into the smoke-filled air. His eyes jerked up to the
sky, to what shone above the building.
His unwiped nose wrinkled in disgust. He heard more glass shattering, but did not move a muscle. The
star…that star…how he wished… He heard some shouting, and it grew louder and a wave of screams ran
through the crowd.
"Oh my gosh!"
"It can't be…"
"…and deliver us from evil, now and at the hour of our-"
"Get them! NOW!"
Two small lumps lay on the grass surrounded by glass and ignited pieces of wood, and a few feet away
from them was the school structure swaying threateningly. A large man darted towards the building with
the light of the flames glistening on his shiny, red suit. He picked up one small lump with one hand and the
other with another hand. Abruptly, he spun around, sprinting, legs pumping, heart beating uncontrollably,
and the adrenaline rushing wildly.
There was a high, shrill scream when it fell. Then came the explosion; the force was so strong that people
grabbed onto each other to steady themselves. The flames spouted out in the air and the ashes flew; pieces
of wood were thrown into the streets. The chaos was overwhelming.
"Get them in the ambulance now!"
"There are too many people- we can't get out!"
"Do we have a pulse in either?"
"Well make them get out! I don't care if-"
"Negative."
"-you have to run them over, just-"
"Are they breathing?"
"-get them there!"
"Negative."
"Get out of the way!"
The stretchers were loaded onto an ambulance, sirens screaming and lights flashing. The ambulances
pushed through the crowds, trying to get past the hordes of people. The sea of people surprisingly parted,
as if they were at the command of a force stronger than they were, and they formed a perfect pathway to the
hospital. The ambulance roared as the driver pressed down hard on the accelerator and flew down the road,
away from the still-burning flames.
Gerald watched, sniffling. Then he felt something on his head, then on his shoulder. He looked up and
stared at the glittering object, still shining through the clouds, through it all. He felt the strange sensations
on his face and he closed his eyes, letting his salty tears mix with the rain that began to fall.
As quickly as it had appeared, it slowly began to diminish thanks to the firemen's persistent efforts and the
sudden precipitation. The little boy held his hands up, letting the water fall onto his dry palms, sobbing
still.
A hand was place on his shoulder and gripped it firmly. "Let's go home, son." The little boy nodded,
studying the sky for a bit before turning back. He took a step away hesitantly and then, with a growing
confidence, stepped faster as the rain began to pound down, causing his tall hair to sag with the moisture.
At no time did he turn his head to look over his shoulder and gaze upon the remnants behind him. There
was no need to.
****************************************
The sun peeked out from behind the structures, its rays silhouetting the tall buildings of the city. The
night's clouds had dispersed, leaving only a few wispy formations from earlier, but there were still some
clouds lingering. The rain had stopped long ago.
The branches of the trees in the park rustled in the small breeze that blew. The leaves on the ground were
picked up and twirled in the air, forming small little circles full of blinding colors. Red, yellow, orange-
and they blended into the background of the rising sun. The grass was pressed against one side from the
air's strong force.
The breeze continued, gaining momentum to become a steady wind over the city even over a corner still
wrapped in yellow tape. The wind raised the dust and flung it into the air. Particles hung in the air before
the wind died down, and the dust fell back to the ground.
Suddenly a footprint was made in the dust. The outlines indicated the sharp heel and fashionably pointed
toe of a woman's shoe. The footprints continued making their way through the rubble carefully. They
stopped suddenly as the person who had made those footprints halted, studying a figure with its back to her,
sitting on a rock.
The woman tried to keep her brown hair in place as a few strands flew, partly blocking her vision. She
took another step closer to the rock. It was light gray, covered with sot and ash. It was not quite spherical-
the edges angled off too abruptly and the top formed a smooth surface- but it was still round.
The figure seated swayed a little in the breeze. The women took one last step so she stood directly behind
the person on the rock. She saw the object it held in its hands, clutching tightly, and she noticed the small
drawings that had been made in the dust, which were quickly destroyed upon the figure's realization of her
presence.
"I'm sorry," began the woman, her voice soft and soothing. "I didn't mean to disturb you." The boy on the
rock continued to sit there, staring out into the oblivion. A few moments of silence passed; finally the boy
turned to acknowledge the woman's attendance. His glasses were dimmed with mist, his breathing heavy,
and his shirt was so covered with particles of dust, dirt, and ash that it made it impossible to determine what
color it originally was.
"What are you doing out here?"
"Something," answered the boy simply, his voice lacking emotion. There was silence again except for the
steady breathing that came from the child.
"Would you like me to…to give that back to her?" The woman motioned towards what the boy clutched in
his hands. He jerked his head back to study the object a moment before thrusting it towards her with a
mysterious comprehension of the situation.
"Yeah." The woman took it and let her fingers trace the outline. She blinked, slightly startled. Her lips
parted as she stared flipping the object over.
"How could it survive?" she asked finally, brown eyes still locked on the face. The boy shrugged, turning
back around, to stare down the street. "Not a scratch, not a dent, nothing at all. It's perfect, brand new.
Thank you for fin-" The woman looked up to find herself alone. The boy was gone. She gasped,
surveying her surroundings, but not a trace could be found, like he had just vanished into the air.
The woman stood there, the wind blowing wildly now and the dust taken out of its place, swirling in the air,
only to fall back down again. The peacefulness of the morning frightened her, and she spun on her heels
and began to make her way out of the mass of rubble, a souvenir of the previous night's devastating fire.
******************************************
"NOOOOOOOO!"
He sat straight up in bed. His face was covered with beads of sweat. He breathed in deeply and exhaled,
wincing a little. He looked around the room and finally realized that he was in a very unfamiliar place.
The whitewashed walls gave off the smell of ammonium while the speckled tiles gleamed, showing off that
recently they had been freshly waxed. Flowered curtains hung, homely and blowing a little in the breeze.
The large window let rays of sunlight pour into the room.
Suddenly the door creaked open, and a woman with a wrinkled face and tired eyes peeked in. "Oh, good,
you're up, hun. The doctors were pretty worried about you and your little friend. When we first got you
two in here neither of you young'uns were breathing nor had a pulse. At first we thought you were goners,
but those doctors hooked you young'uns up to a machine." She grinned a little, displaying her crooked
teeth. She stepped inside the room.
She was a short and plump woman with large shoulders. Gray and frail hair framed the round face, and her
eyes were too large for her sockets. Bags of fat hung around her cheeks and all over her body. Light skin
showed her blue veins, which clashed against the polka-dotted dress she wore.
"You two are awfully lucky we're well equipped with life support. Awfully lucky," she repeated. "Can't
figure how you two could stay in that school for so long without suffocating. It's a puzzling mystery." She
paused and remembered what her original purpose was. The nurse glanced down at the quilted blankets her
wrinkled hands held and grumbled to herself.
"Here's some blankets to keep you from getting a chill. Doctors want you two to get fresh air, but we can't
have you catching a chill, now, can we?" The woman placed the quilt on the bed and pushed it close to the
boy's face as if he were her child and she was tucking him in to get a good night's rest. "You're going to
be fine. Your little friend is too."
The nurse motioned to a bed on the far side, which the boy had not noticed previously. He watched the
lump on the bed intently, chest rising and then falling with every breath. "Her lungs were quite a sight.
Full of smoke, they were."
She shook her head. "And her hands- scorched! They're wrapped up in bandages. Hard to tell if they'll
ever heal. Might though, but there'll always be a few scars. But still, she's awfully lucky, so awfully
lucky." She nodded at the boy and then grinned sheepishly.
"I'm probably scaring the living daylights out of you!" She chuckled to herself. "Well I gotta go. I'm
only supposed to be delivering those blankets." She walked over towards the lump on the far side of the
room. Carefully, she wrapped a quilted blanket that held intricate patterns around the lump. She smiled at
the lump for a while before jerking her head back up.
"Now, you be good and don't go trying to wake her up. Just let her be. She'll come around soon. Would
have had a separate room for you, but this week there was a baby boom. No rooms left, so you're just
going to have make do with this. Ain't that bad, is it?" She surveyed the room. "Now don't you dare
answer that question." Without another word, the nurse left.
"Arnold?" The lump sat up. "Is she gone?"
"Um, yeah." The lump stretched her arms and then yelped a little with pain. She then turned to face him
and each was startled at what they saw.
Helga's face had a long burn along the left side. There were multiple scratches and scars blotted on her
forehead. Her hands rested in her lap. They were covered in big, white bandages and just the thought of
what the layers of bandages were covering made Arnold cringe.
Arnold himself was a sight to see. Helga could see the scars on his neck from the flames. His burns were
mostly on his arms and legs, which were tucked away under the blankets of the hospital bed, but Helga
knew they were there, and that there was a big, black gash on his back under the hospital gown. His hair
was messed up also and stuck up everywhere from lying on a pillow for too long.
The two suddenly looked away, embarrassed that they had been staring. Helga slowly lifted her feet off the
bed and placed them on the ground. Her hands helped herself up. Her legs had- amazingly enough- been
left unscathed, unlike Arnold's. She made her way across the speckled floor and stopped by the window
where she looked out at the world outside full of people, places, and dreams.
"I wonder what day it is." Helga spun around and narrowed her eyes at the boy, who just gazed timidly
back at her, his green eyes seeming mistier than normal.
"I don't know and I don't care." She paused and looked thoughtful. "You know, footballhead, I never did
get a chance to really thank you for… you know…coming back." She turned back to the window, not
wanting him to see her flushed face.
"Helga…I've got a confession to make." His voice was full of shame. Helga immediately whirled around,
blue eyes wide and she walked quickly towards him. She sat on the far end of his bed and waited
impatiently.
"You'd better spill it." He studied his hands for a while before allowing his vision to fall back on Helga.
"I know that you probably think you're to blame for what happened, but you aren't. If blame has to be
labeled on anyone you should put it on me. I was talking to Lila while you were gone and I didn't even
notice that you didn't come back. If it wasn't for me…" The boy hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry."
"Is that your confession?"
"Well, yeah…what did you think it was going to be?"
Helga looked away. She had gotten her hopes up again. How could she have ever let herself think that
Arnold might actually confess his undying love for her? Disappointment stung and throbbed painfully in
her wounds, almost mocking her for her vain efforts.
"Helga, I know you could have just left me there to die easily." Helga studied the opposite wall, where a
painting by Monet hung on the surface. She focused her eyes on the pond and the lilypads. "But you
didn't, Helga, you refused to leave me. You didn't go without me and-" He paused, feeling flustered.
"Thanks for staying, for helping me out."
Helga finally allowed her eyes to turn back to Arnold, hoping that the disappointment had drained from
them. He had drawn closer to her and sat only a few feet away from her on the bed. "It was nothing." She
shook him off, knowing he was getting too close.
"No it wasn't. It was definitely-"
"What about you?" cried Helga, panicky for the boy had inched his body even closer to hers in more ways
then one. "You were too stubborn to get out before it spread."
The scarred face softened. "I couldn't just leave you." He fiddled with his hands for a moment. "I guess
neither of us wanted to leave without the other." He looked up at her. "You saved my life-"
"You saved mine!" Helga pointed out nervously, for he had inched nearer.
"For what you did I could almost…I almost want to…I want to…" He was now adjacent to her on the bed,
and he peered into her frightened blue eyes.
"Want to what?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. His face was getting closer now and she could
see the darkness of the scars, see the depth of the green in his eyes, and feel his breath, which hinted that he
had drunk a Yahoo Soda not too long ago.
"Thank you…" His voice was hushed and deeper than normal. He leaned closer, shyly and hesitantly. He
stopped when his lips were barely an inch away from her red ones. He waited a bit, bewildered by his
actions and how awfully close they suddenly were. Helga closed her eyes, deciding that this was simply a
dream and allowing the best part to come.
Like a strange, involuntary impulse, he moved his head just a little closer, so their foreheads brushed. Then
their lips touched. Helga reached her hands up and, despite the bandages, was about to wrap them around
the boy's neck. That was when the door flung open.
"Hey! Wha-?" The two immediately jumped back. Arnold ended up banging his head against the bedpost
while Helga fell on to the floor. Both rubbed their sore spots from the hard impact and both turned their
heads to see a boy standing at the doorway, mouth agape, eyes widened, looking very confused.
"Um, hey, Gerald, what's up?" croaked the 9 year-old, smiling sheepishly. Dark brown eyes looked from
boy to girl to boy to girl to back at the boy again.
"Sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting something." He frowned and kept looking back and forth between
the two children, as if they were sending secret messages to each other and he was attempting to decode
them.
"You weren't interrupting anything, Tall Hair Boy," Helga added quickly. Gerald raised his thin eyebrows,
studying them curiously.
"Oh." An embarrassed silence lasted a little longer until Gerald spoke up. "I sneaked past the nurses. I
don't think visiting hours are supposed to start for another half hour."
"Whoop-de-doo- for you." Helga stood up, wiping off the hospital gown. She glared at Gerald before she
made her way back to her own bed, silently. Dark eyes studied her before being averted by a voice that
suddenly had found the power to speak.
"What day is it?" he asked, to distract his friend's attention away from the scene that had taken place only
minutes ago. It worked.
"It's Sunday. You've guys were unconscious all yesterday. Both your families came by and visited you
for a while. They'll probably be back soon. The doctors reassured them, but I bet they're still worried."
"How's everyone?"
Gerald shrugged, eyes focused on the floor. "They're okay. Pretty shaken up, but I guess we all are." He
traced a square tile with his foot. "We thought you two were goners," he replied seriously.
Arnold simply nodded understandingly. "We thought we were goners." He looked down at his right arm
and the huge burn it had where the skin wrinkled. He wondered if it would ever heal.
"Are you two okay?" asked Gerald, blurting out what was on his mind. "I mean you guys did have an
awfully close encounter with death." Helga, who was seated on her bed, looked up and rolled her
shoulders.
Arnold folded his arms and rested them in his lap. He sighed sadly. "It's odd, in a way, what happened."
"What's it like to be so close to kicking the bucket?" prodded the boy, allowing himself to sit on the foot of
Arnold's bed. His eyes widened in anticipation of the answer, which was just a shrug from Arnold.
"It's too hard to explain what happened in there. It seems all blurred together when I look back on it now."
He grinned a little. "It's funny; while it was happening it seemed like everything was taking place so
slowly, but now when I look back it all runs together." The boy looked contemplative, trying to understand
what had transpired. "But, you know, something did happen."
"What?" Both Helga's and Gerald's attentions were now focused on the boy scrunched up in the hospital
bed.
"It's like-" The boy became inarticulate for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, exposing his white
teeth and pink tongue. He then shut it and bit his lip hard. He started over. "It's like…something in
there…at school I mean…it's like-" He paused again, studying his hands and their scars. He gave it one
final try. "It's like…something died."
"What do you mean died?"
"I mean something died…kicked the bucket…you know what I mean."
"Well I know that part, but-" Gerald peered at his friend. "But what I don't understand is who- there
wasn't anyone else in the building, it's not possible that-"
"No, no, it's not like that. It's like something died- not someone- something…I don't know what, but I
know something got burned in those flames…" He turned to look out the window, his face suddenly
solemn and his eyes sullen.
His dark schoolmate blinked, feeling at a loss as to what to say. He gazed at his friend, and reached his
hand out to touch the blonde boy's shoulder, but in mid-air he opted against it and jerked his hand back to
his side.
Helga just stared at the boy before averting her line of vision. It's like something died. Something died.
Would there be a funeral service? Would they say a prayer? Would they say 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
back to where you came from, back to where you belong'?
*************************************
"This old town should've burned down in 1929
That's when we stood in line
Waiting for our soup,
Swallowing our pride
This old town should've burned down in 1931
When the rain refused to come
Air filled up our bellies,
Dust filled up our lungs
And we thought our time had come."
Gertie strummed the guitar, her fingers rhythmically brushing the strings. Her bright eyes hid an elderly
weariness and her energetic exterior covered a certain interior.
Phil rolled his eyes, but grinned a little. "I don't know if Short Man is going to appreciate your musical
talents."
"Course Tex will. He needs some cheering up." Gertie wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. "Those
hospitals, why, they try to destroy you! Poison you with green jello- that's what they do! Shoving those
blasted pills down your throat, strapping you to the bed! Why, we should be coming up with a plan to bust
ol' Tex outta there!" The woman nodded triumphantly.
Phil parked the green Packard. "Now, Pookie, you can't go trying to bust out Short Man. He has to stay at
the hospital a little longer." The elderly man stepped out of the car, hooking his fingers around his
suspenders. "Okay, Pookie?" He glanced around. "Pookie?" Off to the distance he could hear a devilish
laughter. Phil grumbled before darting inside the building.
Inside the hospital room, most of the two children's schoolmates had gathered, eagerly waiting to hear their
adventurous tale.
"What happened in there?" asked Sid, his voice slightly squeaky.
"Yeah, us fellers been ponderin' how you two done escaped that there fire," added Stinky, scratching his
head a little. The other children nodded encouragingly except for Gerald, who stood in the corner, hating
the isolation he felt, and the distance that had grown between himself and his best friend.
The two exchanged a glance. Helga shrugged, feeling weary and still hurting despite the multiple doses of
pain killers that had been given to her. Arnold sighed, acknowledging that he would begin. He opened his
mouth, but before he could even utter a single syllable there was a knock at the door.
"Um, come in." The wooden door opened slowly and a head peaked in. All the children immediately
recognized the oval face, short dark brown hair, and soft round eyes. The woman, who was wearing a
forest green business suit, stepped in.
"Dr. Bliss?" The woman smiled at the children, looking perplexed, and Helga, looking nervous.
"I just wanted to drop by and see how you two are doing." Her smile was warm and understanding. She
stepped closer to the beds and the other 4th graders moved out of her way quickly.
"I'm doing okay," replied Arnold. He turned to rest his green eyes on the girl in her bed.
"What about you, Helga? How are you feeling?"
The girl glanced down at her hands, wrapped in white bandages. She knew she was a sight to see and she
felt the scars suddenly sting, reminding her of where they were and where they might always be.
"Okay," she muttered angrily. Suddenly the door flung open and an old woman entered, followed by a few
frantic hospital assistants and an elderly man. Also, not too far behind, a man with a black toupee entered,
and a young man with overly cheerful eyes.
"Grandma?" The woman in question's eyes tightened under the cowboy hat resting on top of her head. In
her hands she held a guitar.
"Pookie, how many times have I-" Gertie turned around to glare at Phil.
"That's Annie Oakley, to you, Slim!" she exclaimed proudly. Then she took the guitar and while the
children and the others watched with growing interest, she began to pluck the strings.
"This old town should've burned down in 1944
When the last men went to war
They came back different
If they came back at all
This old town should've burned down in 1956
That's when the twister hit
And all our hopes were buried
Beneath the boards and the bricks
And we almost called it quits!"
The children gathered around her, delighted by this new source of entertainment. Gertie, feeling
encouraged, continued to sing and the melody of the country song hung in the air.
"Some where in the distance,
The city lights do shine!"
Dr. Bliss turned towards Helga who watched the scene, her face expressionless. "Helga?" The blonde girl
turned her head sharply. The doctor reached out her hand and touched Helga's gently. "I know that you
two have scars now- both inside and out. They'll heal if you let them."
"The sidewalks gleam with neon dreams,
That call from time to time."
The 9-year-old blinked. The woman patted the girl's arm and nodded. "It'll be all right again." Without
another word, she slipped out of the hospital room, unnoticed as almost everyone's attention was focused
on Gertie.
"When my children's children
Ask me why I didn't go-"
Helga looked down at her hand and her eyes widened in disbelief at the small object Dr. Bliss had slipped
her when she had touched her hand. The brass edge still shone, and the golden face gazed back at her with
its sweet eyes.
"They say the heart of any town
Is the people that you've known
They'll always call you home."
She gripped the locket tightly and then looked over every detail, wondering how it could remain unscathed.
She had seen it fall into the fiery pit with her own eyes…how could it have survived? There was no
rational explanation… She unclasped the locket and, making sure no one was paying attention, read the
inscription softly to herself. Yep, it was definitely hers. Somehow, through all the perils of the fire, it had
made it.
A small smile forming on her lips, she allowed her fingers to trace the heart-shaped locket until she felt
eyes upon her. She looked up and saw Arnold watching her. She scowled, but then paused to study him
and his scars more closely. Their scars…weren't they just everlasting souvenirs? He smiled at her and
winked. Not because he was teasing her, but rather because of a secret the two would always share.
The school had been destroyed, but it was more than the fall of a structure that had happened. Oh, it was so
much more than that! But it was impossible to explain the unexplainable and to show the others how to
believe the unbelievable. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… But they knew what would rise out of the rubble,
the ashes, and the dust.
The two small children turned their heads, looking past the spectacle of Gertie strumming on the guitar and
Phil dancing alongside the 4th graders; they studied the window and what lay outside. They looked on at
the world knowingly and listened to Gertie's voice and the country tune play in the background as she
reached the final lines of the song.
"This old town was built by hand
In the dust bowl of the Mother land
There must be rock beneath this sand
Oh, I'll be damned
This town still stands!"
Fini!!! C'est la fin!! Really it is. Ah…it's such a relief to finally complete this.
Now I get to explain why I took so long- originally they died. Yep, writers can be very cruel, but after a
while I decided that wouldn't be all too great of an ending and neither would be a confession, so I created
my own twisted conclusion.
Anyways- thanks for reading and a special thanks to all those who took the time to review. I don't think
I'll be working on any other stories for the time being…well except for one *evil grin* which I have been
neglecting for the past few weeks. (Sorry! Sudden inspiration hit and well…you know…I'll get back on it
ASAP).
So if you enjoyed or even despised this ending, let me know…I'd hate to be an ignorant writer. Thanks
again and I leave everyone with this final thought: it's not what happens to you, it's how you deal with it.
~Kimba
sure that I've updated this story at least before its no longer in the top 50 most recently updated. But heh, I
guess I'm just a tad late.
Okay, I've thought long and hard and I'd like to dedicate this story to: Offcentre- for beta reading and
putting up with my lack of grammar skills. Jedy- for being such a great friend when I was going through
some hard times. And finally in loving memory of the idea, 'The Patakis'- the world will never known
what it missed out on.
Disclaimer: Can't say that I'm the owner of either Hey Arnold! or the lyrics of the song 'This Old Town'
*no, this is not a songfic
Finally….
Chapter 5: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
(Not a very promising title is it?)
The girl stared at the hole. Some of her blonde hair had fallen out of her pigtails and the strands clung to
her neck, which glistened with sweat. She swallowed hard and felt her chest heave with each shuddering
breath.
The flames continued to roar; their sound was deafening. The light of the fire played across her reddened
face while she lay on the tiled floor. She looked over the shoulder at the tempting window, but then turned
back hastily, the decision made. She was not going to leave. Not without him.
It was her fault. If she had done things just a little differently then…well, then she wouldn't be on the tiled
floor, watching the school burn down and wanting to go down with it. But then again, maybe it was not her
fault. Maybe it was not anyone's. Helga looked thoughtful for a moment, ignoring the mix of yellow,
orange, and red, that continued to spread. Perhaps this was what was supposed to happen. She scowled to
herself. She wished fate were standing right in front of her- she was more than ready to introduce it to ol'
Betsy.
Suddenly a piece of the roof above her fell and came crashing on top of the hole, crushing a few flames as
it plummeted downwards. The girl's mouth opened a little, speechless as she saw what some of the flames
had been blocking. She stood up rapidly, thankful that she had kept the rope, which had not yet fallen to
the clutches of the fire.
"Arnold!" she screamed hoarsely with her aching throat.
Arnold looked over his shoulder at her, startled that she was still there. "Helga- just get out of here!"
cried the tiny boy, dangling onto the edge on the far side.
Helga looked back at him, one hand clutching the rope. She scowled at him, eyes piercing with their
intensity. "NO!" Her voice was stubborn and strong, hiding the aching pain that lurked in her throat and
lungs.
She grabbed the rope with both hands and backed up so her body was pressed against the wall. She
mustered up all the energy she had left and took a running start. Her long legs sailed over the hole and
landed inexpertly on the far ledge. She stood there a moment, regaining her breath before she turned
around to face him.
His hands were holding on to the edge while his legs dangled in the air. His body could feel the closeness
of the flames, and he did not cry out when he felt it catch on his clothes. Arnold could hear Helga gasp, but
he refused to look at her, preferring to close his eyes and shut out everything. It burned through his clothes,
and he let his grip on the wood loosen.
'Just let go…it'll all be over then…just let go.' A strange, stern voice commanded him to do so. 'End the
pain…it's easier this way.' He bit his lip hard and allowed the blood to trickle down and stain what was
left of his white shirt. 'It hurts…it burns so bad…'
Helga, sensing his movements, dived towards him, still clutching the rope. She extended her hands out to
him. Horrified, she saw his filthy, burned hands suddenly let go of the ledge. She screamed.
"Arnold!!" He disappeared into the darkness.
Helga dove after him, one hand extended. She grabbed something- a leg, to be more accurate- and then
came to a sudden halt, hanging in mid-air. They dangled there, Helga with one hand still clutching the rope
and with the other holding onto Arnold.
Perspiration formed on her forehead and dripped down her cheeks. Both arms were strained and she was
well aware that she could not hold him much longer. She glanced up at the opening in the ceiling, at the
hole, noticing that it was about ten feet above them. All the while the flames burned fiercely a mere few
inches away.
Arnold looked up at her, his pained green eyes pleading. "Let go of me, Helga, just let go," he begged.
Helga shook her head defiantly. Her eyes scanned around the corridor or what was left of it. It was dark
and she could hardly see. Suddenly, in the corner of one of her eyes she spotted a window of the 1st floor.
Her blue eyes enlarged as she saw the images of the fire and themselves on the panes.
"Arnold, we can just swing out of here and through that window!" Arnold adjusted himself so he could see
the place Helga was referring to and how far off it was. "I'll get the rope swinging and then when the
time's right I'll let go, okay?"
Without warning, the girl coughed, her whole body shaking. The child looked up at his companion, feeling
guilt pulse circulate through his arteries. "Are you sure you can make it, Helga? I mean, if it were just
you, you probably could, but there's two of us."
Blue eyes shone savagely. "Do you know have any other way?!" she snapped, but then softened. "You
have to trust me- it's our only chance… please?"
Arnold looked thoughtful. How could he trust the girl who had spent her entire life torturing him? How
could anyone trust a person who would trip him at any given opportunity and mock him with petty insults?
But then again, after everything that had happened…how fear had brought out a softer side in her. She had
told him that he should have left her there, that she wished he had abandoned her…almost as if all she had
ever wanted was simply for him to be…
"I trust you…" They began to swing and the momentum grew until suddenly he could feel Helga's grip on
the rope release. Was it too early? Was it too late? He did not seize a chance to see because
unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
****************************************
Gerald watched the ground. He could hear the screams and the loud cracking sounds of the splintered
wood and the fire engulfing it. Gone. All gone. The building, two of his classmates, his best friend- were
no more. Emptiness surged inside of him and seemed to take control of him. He gave up for the first time
that night, letting the spasms of grief shake his body and allowing the sobs to nearly choke him.
He heard glass shattering, but he did not even bother to look up. He could not bear the sight anymore; the
strength he had at one point possessed had vanished into the smoke-filled air. His eyes jerked up to the
sky, to what shone above the building.
His unwiped nose wrinkled in disgust. He heard more glass shattering, but did not move a muscle. The
star…that star…how he wished… He heard some shouting, and it grew louder and a wave of screams ran
through the crowd.
"Oh my gosh!"
"It can't be…"
"…and deliver us from evil, now and at the hour of our-"
"Get them! NOW!"
Two small lumps lay on the grass surrounded by glass and ignited pieces of wood, and a few feet away
from them was the school structure swaying threateningly. A large man darted towards the building with
the light of the flames glistening on his shiny, red suit. He picked up one small lump with one hand and the
other with another hand. Abruptly, he spun around, sprinting, legs pumping, heart beating uncontrollably,
and the adrenaline rushing wildly.
There was a high, shrill scream when it fell. Then came the explosion; the force was so strong that people
grabbed onto each other to steady themselves. The flames spouted out in the air and the ashes flew; pieces
of wood were thrown into the streets. The chaos was overwhelming.
"Get them in the ambulance now!"
"There are too many people- we can't get out!"
"Do we have a pulse in either?"
"Well make them get out! I don't care if-"
"Negative."
"-you have to run them over, just-"
"Are they breathing?"
"-get them there!"
"Negative."
"Get out of the way!"
The stretchers were loaded onto an ambulance, sirens screaming and lights flashing. The ambulances
pushed through the crowds, trying to get past the hordes of people. The sea of people surprisingly parted,
as if they were at the command of a force stronger than they were, and they formed a perfect pathway to the
hospital. The ambulance roared as the driver pressed down hard on the accelerator and flew down the road,
away from the still-burning flames.
Gerald watched, sniffling. Then he felt something on his head, then on his shoulder. He looked up and
stared at the glittering object, still shining through the clouds, through it all. He felt the strange sensations
on his face and he closed his eyes, letting his salty tears mix with the rain that began to fall.
As quickly as it had appeared, it slowly began to diminish thanks to the firemen's persistent efforts and the
sudden precipitation. The little boy held his hands up, letting the water fall onto his dry palms, sobbing
still.
A hand was place on his shoulder and gripped it firmly. "Let's go home, son." The little boy nodded,
studying the sky for a bit before turning back. He took a step away hesitantly and then, with a growing
confidence, stepped faster as the rain began to pound down, causing his tall hair to sag with the moisture.
At no time did he turn his head to look over his shoulder and gaze upon the remnants behind him. There
was no need to.
****************************************
The sun peeked out from behind the structures, its rays silhouetting the tall buildings of the city. The
night's clouds had dispersed, leaving only a few wispy formations from earlier, but there were still some
clouds lingering. The rain had stopped long ago.
The branches of the trees in the park rustled in the small breeze that blew. The leaves on the ground were
picked up and twirled in the air, forming small little circles full of blinding colors. Red, yellow, orange-
and they blended into the background of the rising sun. The grass was pressed against one side from the
air's strong force.
The breeze continued, gaining momentum to become a steady wind over the city even over a corner still
wrapped in yellow tape. The wind raised the dust and flung it into the air. Particles hung in the air before
the wind died down, and the dust fell back to the ground.
Suddenly a footprint was made in the dust. The outlines indicated the sharp heel and fashionably pointed
toe of a woman's shoe. The footprints continued making their way through the rubble carefully. They
stopped suddenly as the person who had made those footprints halted, studying a figure with its back to her,
sitting on a rock.
The woman tried to keep her brown hair in place as a few strands flew, partly blocking her vision. She
took another step closer to the rock. It was light gray, covered with sot and ash. It was not quite spherical-
the edges angled off too abruptly and the top formed a smooth surface- but it was still round.
The figure seated swayed a little in the breeze. The women took one last step so she stood directly behind
the person on the rock. She saw the object it held in its hands, clutching tightly, and she noticed the small
drawings that had been made in the dust, which were quickly destroyed upon the figure's realization of her
presence.
"I'm sorry," began the woman, her voice soft and soothing. "I didn't mean to disturb you." The boy on the
rock continued to sit there, staring out into the oblivion. A few moments of silence passed; finally the boy
turned to acknowledge the woman's attendance. His glasses were dimmed with mist, his breathing heavy,
and his shirt was so covered with particles of dust, dirt, and ash that it made it impossible to determine what
color it originally was.
"What are you doing out here?"
"Something," answered the boy simply, his voice lacking emotion. There was silence again except for the
steady breathing that came from the child.
"Would you like me to…to give that back to her?" The woman motioned towards what the boy clutched in
his hands. He jerked his head back to study the object a moment before thrusting it towards her with a
mysterious comprehension of the situation.
"Yeah." The woman took it and let her fingers trace the outline. She blinked, slightly startled. Her lips
parted as she stared flipping the object over.
"How could it survive?" she asked finally, brown eyes still locked on the face. The boy shrugged, turning
back around, to stare down the street. "Not a scratch, not a dent, nothing at all. It's perfect, brand new.
Thank you for fin-" The woman looked up to find herself alone. The boy was gone. She gasped,
surveying her surroundings, but not a trace could be found, like he had just vanished into the air.
The woman stood there, the wind blowing wildly now and the dust taken out of its place, swirling in the air,
only to fall back down again. The peacefulness of the morning frightened her, and she spun on her heels
and began to make her way out of the mass of rubble, a souvenir of the previous night's devastating fire.
******************************************
"NOOOOOOOO!"
He sat straight up in bed. His face was covered with beads of sweat. He breathed in deeply and exhaled,
wincing a little. He looked around the room and finally realized that he was in a very unfamiliar place.
The whitewashed walls gave off the smell of ammonium while the speckled tiles gleamed, showing off that
recently they had been freshly waxed. Flowered curtains hung, homely and blowing a little in the breeze.
The large window let rays of sunlight pour into the room.
Suddenly the door creaked open, and a woman with a wrinkled face and tired eyes peeked in. "Oh, good,
you're up, hun. The doctors were pretty worried about you and your little friend. When we first got you
two in here neither of you young'uns were breathing nor had a pulse. At first we thought you were goners,
but those doctors hooked you young'uns up to a machine." She grinned a little, displaying her crooked
teeth. She stepped inside the room.
She was a short and plump woman with large shoulders. Gray and frail hair framed the round face, and her
eyes were too large for her sockets. Bags of fat hung around her cheeks and all over her body. Light skin
showed her blue veins, which clashed against the polka-dotted dress she wore.
"You two are awfully lucky we're well equipped with life support. Awfully lucky," she repeated. "Can't
figure how you two could stay in that school for so long without suffocating. It's a puzzling mystery." She
paused and remembered what her original purpose was. The nurse glanced down at the quilted blankets her
wrinkled hands held and grumbled to herself.
"Here's some blankets to keep you from getting a chill. Doctors want you two to get fresh air, but we can't
have you catching a chill, now, can we?" The woman placed the quilt on the bed and pushed it close to the
boy's face as if he were her child and she was tucking him in to get a good night's rest. "You're going to
be fine. Your little friend is too."
The nurse motioned to a bed on the far side, which the boy had not noticed previously. He watched the
lump on the bed intently, chest rising and then falling with every breath. "Her lungs were quite a sight.
Full of smoke, they were."
She shook her head. "And her hands- scorched! They're wrapped up in bandages. Hard to tell if they'll
ever heal. Might though, but there'll always be a few scars. But still, she's awfully lucky, so awfully
lucky." She nodded at the boy and then grinned sheepishly.
"I'm probably scaring the living daylights out of you!" She chuckled to herself. "Well I gotta go. I'm
only supposed to be delivering those blankets." She walked over towards the lump on the far side of the
room. Carefully, she wrapped a quilted blanket that held intricate patterns around the lump. She smiled at
the lump for a while before jerking her head back up.
"Now, you be good and don't go trying to wake her up. Just let her be. She'll come around soon. Would
have had a separate room for you, but this week there was a baby boom. No rooms left, so you're just
going to have make do with this. Ain't that bad, is it?" She surveyed the room. "Now don't you dare
answer that question." Without another word, the nurse left.
"Arnold?" The lump sat up. "Is she gone?"
"Um, yeah." The lump stretched her arms and then yelped a little with pain. She then turned to face him
and each was startled at what they saw.
Helga's face had a long burn along the left side. There were multiple scratches and scars blotted on her
forehead. Her hands rested in her lap. They were covered in big, white bandages and just the thought of
what the layers of bandages were covering made Arnold cringe.
Arnold himself was a sight to see. Helga could see the scars on his neck from the flames. His burns were
mostly on his arms and legs, which were tucked away under the blankets of the hospital bed, but Helga
knew they were there, and that there was a big, black gash on his back under the hospital gown. His hair
was messed up also and stuck up everywhere from lying on a pillow for too long.
The two suddenly looked away, embarrassed that they had been staring. Helga slowly lifted her feet off the
bed and placed them on the ground. Her hands helped herself up. Her legs had- amazingly enough- been
left unscathed, unlike Arnold's. She made her way across the speckled floor and stopped by the window
where she looked out at the world outside full of people, places, and dreams.
"I wonder what day it is." Helga spun around and narrowed her eyes at the boy, who just gazed timidly
back at her, his green eyes seeming mistier than normal.
"I don't know and I don't care." She paused and looked thoughtful. "You know, footballhead, I never did
get a chance to really thank you for… you know…coming back." She turned back to the window, not
wanting him to see her flushed face.
"Helga…I've got a confession to make." His voice was full of shame. Helga immediately whirled around,
blue eyes wide and she walked quickly towards him. She sat on the far end of his bed and waited
impatiently.
"You'd better spill it." He studied his hands for a while before allowing his vision to fall back on Helga.
"I know that you probably think you're to blame for what happened, but you aren't. If blame has to be
labeled on anyone you should put it on me. I was talking to Lila while you were gone and I didn't even
notice that you didn't come back. If it wasn't for me…" The boy hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry."
"Is that your confession?"
"Well, yeah…what did you think it was going to be?"
Helga looked away. She had gotten her hopes up again. How could she have ever let herself think that
Arnold might actually confess his undying love for her? Disappointment stung and throbbed painfully in
her wounds, almost mocking her for her vain efforts.
"Helga, I know you could have just left me there to die easily." Helga studied the opposite wall, where a
painting by Monet hung on the surface. She focused her eyes on the pond and the lilypads. "But you
didn't, Helga, you refused to leave me. You didn't go without me and-" He paused, feeling flustered.
"Thanks for staying, for helping me out."
Helga finally allowed her eyes to turn back to Arnold, hoping that the disappointment had drained from
them. He had drawn closer to her and sat only a few feet away from her on the bed. "It was nothing." She
shook him off, knowing he was getting too close.
"No it wasn't. It was definitely-"
"What about you?" cried Helga, panicky for the boy had inched his body even closer to hers in more ways
then one. "You were too stubborn to get out before it spread."
The scarred face softened. "I couldn't just leave you." He fiddled with his hands for a moment. "I guess
neither of us wanted to leave without the other." He looked up at her. "You saved my life-"
"You saved mine!" Helga pointed out nervously, for he had inched nearer.
"For what you did I could almost…I almost want to…I want to…" He was now adjacent to her on the bed,
and he peered into her frightened blue eyes.
"Want to what?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. His face was getting closer now and she could
see the darkness of the scars, see the depth of the green in his eyes, and feel his breath, which hinted that he
had drunk a Yahoo Soda not too long ago.
"Thank you…" His voice was hushed and deeper than normal. He leaned closer, shyly and hesitantly. He
stopped when his lips were barely an inch away from her red ones. He waited a bit, bewildered by his
actions and how awfully close they suddenly were. Helga closed her eyes, deciding that this was simply a
dream and allowing the best part to come.
Like a strange, involuntary impulse, he moved his head just a little closer, so their foreheads brushed. Then
their lips touched. Helga reached her hands up and, despite the bandages, was about to wrap them around
the boy's neck. That was when the door flung open.
"Hey! Wha-?" The two immediately jumped back. Arnold ended up banging his head against the bedpost
while Helga fell on to the floor. Both rubbed their sore spots from the hard impact and both turned their
heads to see a boy standing at the doorway, mouth agape, eyes widened, looking very confused.
"Um, hey, Gerald, what's up?" croaked the 9 year-old, smiling sheepishly. Dark brown eyes looked from
boy to girl to boy to girl to back at the boy again.
"Sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting something." He frowned and kept looking back and forth between
the two children, as if they were sending secret messages to each other and he was attempting to decode
them.
"You weren't interrupting anything, Tall Hair Boy," Helga added quickly. Gerald raised his thin eyebrows,
studying them curiously.
"Oh." An embarrassed silence lasted a little longer until Gerald spoke up. "I sneaked past the nurses. I
don't think visiting hours are supposed to start for another half hour."
"Whoop-de-doo- for you." Helga stood up, wiping off the hospital gown. She glared at Gerald before she
made her way back to her own bed, silently. Dark eyes studied her before being averted by a voice that
suddenly had found the power to speak.
"What day is it?" he asked, to distract his friend's attention away from the scene that had taken place only
minutes ago. It worked.
"It's Sunday. You've guys were unconscious all yesterday. Both your families came by and visited you
for a while. They'll probably be back soon. The doctors reassured them, but I bet they're still worried."
"How's everyone?"
Gerald shrugged, eyes focused on the floor. "They're okay. Pretty shaken up, but I guess we all are." He
traced a square tile with his foot. "We thought you two were goners," he replied seriously.
Arnold simply nodded understandingly. "We thought we were goners." He looked down at his right arm
and the huge burn it had where the skin wrinkled. He wondered if it would ever heal.
"Are you two okay?" asked Gerald, blurting out what was on his mind. "I mean you guys did have an
awfully close encounter with death." Helga, who was seated on her bed, looked up and rolled her
shoulders.
Arnold folded his arms and rested them in his lap. He sighed sadly. "It's odd, in a way, what happened."
"What's it like to be so close to kicking the bucket?" prodded the boy, allowing himself to sit on the foot of
Arnold's bed. His eyes widened in anticipation of the answer, which was just a shrug from Arnold.
"It's too hard to explain what happened in there. It seems all blurred together when I look back on it now."
He grinned a little. "It's funny; while it was happening it seemed like everything was taking place so
slowly, but now when I look back it all runs together." The boy looked contemplative, trying to understand
what had transpired. "But, you know, something did happen."
"What?" Both Helga's and Gerald's attentions were now focused on the boy scrunched up in the hospital
bed.
"It's like-" The boy became inarticulate for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, exposing his white
teeth and pink tongue. He then shut it and bit his lip hard. He started over. "It's like…something in
there…at school I mean…it's like-" He paused again, studying his hands and their scars. He gave it one
final try. "It's like…something died."
"What do you mean died?"
"I mean something died…kicked the bucket…you know what I mean."
"Well I know that part, but-" Gerald peered at his friend. "But what I don't understand is who- there
wasn't anyone else in the building, it's not possible that-"
"No, no, it's not like that. It's like something died- not someone- something…I don't know what, but I
know something got burned in those flames…" He turned to look out the window, his face suddenly
solemn and his eyes sullen.
His dark schoolmate blinked, feeling at a loss as to what to say. He gazed at his friend, and reached his
hand out to touch the blonde boy's shoulder, but in mid-air he opted against it and jerked his hand back to
his side.
Helga just stared at the boy before averting her line of vision. It's like something died. Something died.
Would there be a funeral service? Would they say a prayer? Would they say 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
back to where you came from, back to where you belong'?
*************************************
"This old town should've burned down in 1929
That's when we stood in line
Waiting for our soup,
Swallowing our pride
This old town should've burned down in 1931
When the rain refused to come
Air filled up our bellies,
Dust filled up our lungs
And we thought our time had come."
Gertie strummed the guitar, her fingers rhythmically brushing the strings. Her bright eyes hid an elderly
weariness and her energetic exterior covered a certain interior.
Phil rolled his eyes, but grinned a little. "I don't know if Short Man is going to appreciate your musical
talents."
"Course Tex will. He needs some cheering up." Gertie wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. "Those
hospitals, why, they try to destroy you! Poison you with green jello- that's what they do! Shoving those
blasted pills down your throat, strapping you to the bed! Why, we should be coming up with a plan to bust
ol' Tex outta there!" The woman nodded triumphantly.
Phil parked the green Packard. "Now, Pookie, you can't go trying to bust out Short Man. He has to stay at
the hospital a little longer." The elderly man stepped out of the car, hooking his fingers around his
suspenders. "Okay, Pookie?" He glanced around. "Pookie?" Off to the distance he could hear a devilish
laughter. Phil grumbled before darting inside the building.
Inside the hospital room, most of the two children's schoolmates had gathered, eagerly waiting to hear their
adventurous tale.
"What happened in there?" asked Sid, his voice slightly squeaky.
"Yeah, us fellers been ponderin' how you two done escaped that there fire," added Stinky, scratching his
head a little. The other children nodded encouragingly except for Gerald, who stood in the corner, hating
the isolation he felt, and the distance that had grown between himself and his best friend.
The two exchanged a glance. Helga shrugged, feeling weary and still hurting despite the multiple doses of
pain killers that had been given to her. Arnold sighed, acknowledging that he would begin. He opened his
mouth, but before he could even utter a single syllable there was a knock at the door.
"Um, come in." The wooden door opened slowly and a head peaked in. All the children immediately
recognized the oval face, short dark brown hair, and soft round eyes. The woman, who was wearing a
forest green business suit, stepped in.
"Dr. Bliss?" The woman smiled at the children, looking perplexed, and Helga, looking nervous.
"I just wanted to drop by and see how you two are doing." Her smile was warm and understanding. She
stepped closer to the beds and the other 4th graders moved out of her way quickly.
"I'm doing okay," replied Arnold. He turned to rest his green eyes on the girl in her bed.
"What about you, Helga? How are you feeling?"
The girl glanced down at her hands, wrapped in white bandages. She knew she was a sight to see and she
felt the scars suddenly sting, reminding her of where they were and where they might always be.
"Okay," she muttered angrily. Suddenly the door flung open and an old woman entered, followed by a few
frantic hospital assistants and an elderly man. Also, not too far behind, a man with a black toupee entered,
and a young man with overly cheerful eyes.
"Grandma?" The woman in question's eyes tightened under the cowboy hat resting on top of her head. In
her hands she held a guitar.
"Pookie, how many times have I-" Gertie turned around to glare at Phil.
"That's Annie Oakley, to you, Slim!" she exclaimed proudly. Then she took the guitar and while the
children and the others watched with growing interest, she began to pluck the strings.
"This old town should've burned down in 1944
When the last men went to war
They came back different
If they came back at all
This old town should've burned down in 1956
That's when the twister hit
And all our hopes were buried
Beneath the boards and the bricks
And we almost called it quits!"
The children gathered around her, delighted by this new source of entertainment. Gertie, feeling
encouraged, continued to sing and the melody of the country song hung in the air.
"Some where in the distance,
The city lights do shine!"
Dr. Bliss turned towards Helga who watched the scene, her face expressionless. "Helga?" The blonde girl
turned her head sharply. The doctor reached out her hand and touched Helga's gently. "I know that you
two have scars now- both inside and out. They'll heal if you let them."
"The sidewalks gleam with neon dreams,
That call from time to time."
The 9-year-old blinked. The woman patted the girl's arm and nodded. "It'll be all right again." Without
another word, she slipped out of the hospital room, unnoticed as almost everyone's attention was focused
on Gertie.
"When my children's children
Ask me why I didn't go-"
Helga looked down at her hand and her eyes widened in disbelief at the small object Dr. Bliss had slipped
her when she had touched her hand. The brass edge still shone, and the golden face gazed back at her with
its sweet eyes.
"They say the heart of any town
Is the people that you've known
They'll always call you home."
She gripped the locket tightly and then looked over every detail, wondering how it could remain unscathed.
She had seen it fall into the fiery pit with her own eyes…how could it have survived? There was no
rational explanation… She unclasped the locket and, making sure no one was paying attention, read the
inscription softly to herself. Yep, it was definitely hers. Somehow, through all the perils of the fire, it had
made it.
A small smile forming on her lips, she allowed her fingers to trace the heart-shaped locket until she felt
eyes upon her. She looked up and saw Arnold watching her. She scowled, but then paused to study him
and his scars more closely. Their scars…weren't they just everlasting souvenirs? He smiled at her and
winked. Not because he was teasing her, but rather because of a secret the two would always share.
The school had been destroyed, but it was more than the fall of a structure that had happened. Oh, it was so
much more than that! But it was impossible to explain the unexplainable and to show the others how to
believe the unbelievable. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… But they knew what would rise out of the rubble,
the ashes, and the dust.
The two small children turned their heads, looking past the spectacle of Gertie strumming on the guitar and
Phil dancing alongside the 4th graders; they studied the window and what lay outside. They looked on at
the world knowingly and listened to Gertie's voice and the country tune play in the background as she
reached the final lines of the song.
"This old town was built by hand
In the dust bowl of the Mother land
There must be rock beneath this sand
Oh, I'll be damned
This town still stands!"
Fini!!! C'est la fin!! Really it is. Ah…it's such a relief to finally complete this.
Now I get to explain why I took so long- originally they died. Yep, writers can be very cruel, but after a
while I decided that wouldn't be all too great of an ending and neither would be a confession, so I created
my own twisted conclusion.
Anyways- thanks for reading and a special thanks to all those who took the time to review. I don't think
I'll be working on any other stories for the time being…well except for one *evil grin* which I have been
neglecting for the past few weeks. (Sorry! Sudden inspiration hit and well…you know…I'll get back on it
ASAP).
So if you enjoyed or even despised this ending, let me know…I'd hate to be an ignorant writer. Thanks
again and I leave everyone with this final thought: it's not what happens to you, it's how you deal with it.
~Kimba