Alexis stared blankly down at the coffin, her mind whirling in sharp
contrast to the perfectly composed expression on her pale face.
Memories of her grandmother flashed before her eyes in a mental collage of sound and images.
Grandma Kim, laughing as she played paper dolls with a small, brown- haired girl- 'Was I ever that small?' Alexis wondered vaguely.
An old book of photographs from her grandmother's high school years. She had been a cheer leader... Gone to prom with the most handsome, popular boy in the class, Jim... A boy who had died only months later.
Oh, yes, Alexis knew the story well. It had been her favorite tale as a child. 'Edward,' she murmured, a half-smile flitting across her full lips. Then her expression soured as her grandfather took her arm and led her aside, away from her grandmother's coffin.
"Grandfather," she acknowledged. Her least favorite relative, he was a rather short, weaselish man with small, watery blue eyes and a hunched stature. Hair that had once been blond and thick was now thin, white fuzz on his wrinkled head. He leered short-sightedly up at her.
"Granddaughter," he croaked, his expression mocking, "How kind of you to grace the occasion with your presence. At least now your garb is somewhat appropriate to the occasion."
Alexis glanced down at herself, her vivid green eyes taking in the unrelieved black of her leather clothing; tank top, jacket, pants, and over- the-knee boots (very cool if a touch impractical, fastening with a dozen buckles each).
"However," he continued maliciously, now sneering at her, "You might try a different color of powder on your face, and different eye-shadow and lipstick as well. You look more like a corpse than your grandmother."
Alexis crossed her arms over her chest, making the leather of her jacket creak, and glared out of heavily shadowed, black-lined eyes at the old man. She shook her newly dyed black hair out of her eyes and snapped, "Listen, you old creep. If I pretend I value your opinion on my looks and/or my ethics will you either A) get to the point or B) go bother someone else?"
"Charming as always, my dearest," he said sarcastically, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a yellowing envelope. "Your grandmother asked that you be given this in the event of her death, and, as I hope you've noticed, she is dead, so here it is."
Alexis accepted the envelope from his age-gnarled hands. It was addressed to her in her grandmother's elegant handwriting. "What is it?" she inquired coolly, toying with the studded collar she wore.
"How should I know?" he demanded, his voice rising squeakily in outrage at her tone. "She told me nothing, and then had the bad taste to die before her will was finalized!"
"Relax," Alexis advised coldly. "You'll get your money, the whole lot of it, I shouldn't wonder."
He muttered something uncomplimentary and shuffled away, seeking a new victim.
*
Outside the funeral home, one long, leather-clad leg thrown casually over the saddle of her motorcycle, Alexis read her grandmother's letter.
My dearest granddaughter,
If you are reading this, it means that I am no longer with you. I am sorry for that, but know that I will always be thinking of you, and keeping an eye on you!
Do you remember that night, many years ago, when it snowed so hard that school was cancelled for two days? Do you remember the story I told you that first night? Of course you do. You never forget anything, the little girl with a mind like a steel trap. Well, I suppose I must get to the point sooner or later; I may as well make it sooner.
You see, I wish to ask for a favor, a dying woman's last request. Please, go back home to Suburbia. I know that you hate the sight of it, but, please do this, for me. I ask you to take the necklace you will find inside this envelope to Edward, if he is still alive.
Also enclosed in this envelope is the deed to the house and grounds where he lives (if indeed, as I suspect, he still does). Don't ask how I got it, please. Suffice it to say I pulled a few strings, talked to a few "friends" at city hall, and used a good fraction of the money that would otherwise have gone to your grandfather. If you wish to tell him where it went, do so, if not, that is fine with me as well.
Please give these things to Edward, as well as my regards.
Remember that I love you always, no matter what. Thank you, my darling.
Grandma Kim
*
The streetlights shrank to orangey dots far below as Alexis rode her motorcycle up the winding path to the house at the top of the mountain.
The headlight on her motorcycle made a cone of whiteness in the mist that surrounded the house, muffling all noise. Almost reluctantly, she shut off the engine, killing the light, and pulled off her helmet, shaking out her long ebony hair. She pulled off her gloves and threw them carelessly into the helmet, leaving it on the seat of the motorcycle. Holding her grandmother's envelope firmly in her left hand, she pushed open the rusty iron gate and entered the grounds of the old house.
The only noise was the crunch of gravel under her feet, but she felt unnervingly like she was being watched. Still, she squared her shoulders, strode boldly up the weather-beaten front steps, and rapped loudly on the front door.
There was no answer, but then, she really hadn't been expecting one.
Pushing the door open, she strode boldly inside, her footsteps echoing like gunshots in the dark expanse of the gloomy room inside. The door closed of its own accord behind her.
Giving herself a firm telling off for even thinking of chickening out at that stage of the game, she strode purposefully across the hall to the staircase, eyeing the odd statue off to her right as she climbed the stairs.. It looked vaguely like the Balrog from Lord of the Rings, only smaller, and minus the wings. She argued with herself silently.
'What if he's dead?' said a small voice in the back of her mind. 'I... I don't want to be the one to find him if he is. Call me a coward, say what you will, but I don't.'
'If he's dead,' said an answering voice, slyly, 'Then who did you sense watching you outside? His ghost?'
A third voice silenced the first two, saying firmly, 'Grandma Kim said he was likely still alive, and that should be good enough for me.'
She reached a landing where a passage branched off, and paused to think. What had her grandmother said? 'Keep going, all the way to the top- to the attic.' She pressed on up the next flight of stairs.
The narrow stairwell opened out into a broad expanse of wooden floor, the boards, rough and unfinished, creaked under Alexis' feet as she took three steps into the room and halted, looking around.
Here was the room her grandmother had described in such loving detail. The roof overhead was partially collapsed, and she could see a few stars through the opening. On her right, set into the wall, was a large fireplace; empty, its walls covered in magazine and newspaper clippings, some old, some newer.
She could see very little outside of a ten foot radius from where she stood, because of the deep shadows cast by the remains of the roof. It didn't matter, though. Her grandmother's stories told her what to look (and listen) for.
A quiet clicking noise in a far corner off to her left brought her head around sharply. She narrowed her eyes and peered into the gloom. The glint of metal caught her eye almost immediately.
Working up her courage, she called softly, "Edward?"
A shuffling noise and the sound of footsteps growing nearer met her ears. Someone stopped just outside her ten foot circle of sight, their face and form hidden in the darkness.
A soft, boyish voice said, "Who is there?" His tone betrayed no hostility, only innocent curiosity.
"Edward?" she said again.
He stepped forward into the light. The years, it seemed, had had no effect on him, for his scarred face was unlined by time, and his body was still slender and youthful. His nearly black eyes regarded her warily as he asked, "Who are you?"
"I am Alexis- Alex, if you like," she answered, suddenly struck by the grim fact that she had no idea what to say to him.
He took a few tentative steps nearer. His movement was stiff and deliberate. His hands- if you could call them hands- were raised defensively, as though he thought she might suddenly attack him. Startled, she realized that for all he could kill her without half-trying, he was afraid of her.
She smiled encouragingly, keeping her own hands open at her sides.
He stopped again, some five feet away from her now. He said nothing, but simply gazed at her out of black, fathomless eyes. His eyes went from her black leather garb to the studded collar at her throat to her unkempt black mane of hair to her pale face, made nearly white with makeup.
At last he said, in a quiet, contemplative voice, "You look like me."
Memories of her grandmother flashed before her eyes in a mental collage of sound and images.
Grandma Kim, laughing as she played paper dolls with a small, brown- haired girl- 'Was I ever that small?' Alexis wondered vaguely.
An old book of photographs from her grandmother's high school years. She had been a cheer leader... Gone to prom with the most handsome, popular boy in the class, Jim... A boy who had died only months later.
Oh, yes, Alexis knew the story well. It had been her favorite tale as a child. 'Edward,' she murmured, a half-smile flitting across her full lips. Then her expression soured as her grandfather took her arm and led her aside, away from her grandmother's coffin.
"Grandfather," she acknowledged. Her least favorite relative, he was a rather short, weaselish man with small, watery blue eyes and a hunched stature. Hair that had once been blond and thick was now thin, white fuzz on his wrinkled head. He leered short-sightedly up at her.
"Granddaughter," he croaked, his expression mocking, "How kind of you to grace the occasion with your presence. At least now your garb is somewhat appropriate to the occasion."
Alexis glanced down at herself, her vivid green eyes taking in the unrelieved black of her leather clothing; tank top, jacket, pants, and over- the-knee boots (very cool if a touch impractical, fastening with a dozen buckles each).
"However," he continued maliciously, now sneering at her, "You might try a different color of powder on your face, and different eye-shadow and lipstick as well. You look more like a corpse than your grandmother."
Alexis crossed her arms over her chest, making the leather of her jacket creak, and glared out of heavily shadowed, black-lined eyes at the old man. She shook her newly dyed black hair out of her eyes and snapped, "Listen, you old creep. If I pretend I value your opinion on my looks and/or my ethics will you either A) get to the point or B) go bother someone else?"
"Charming as always, my dearest," he said sarcastically, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a yellowing envelope. "Your grandmother asked that you be given this in the event of her death, and, as I hope you've noticed, she is dead, so here it is."
Alexis accepted the envelope from his age-gnarled hands. It was addressed to her in her grandmother's elegant handwriting. "What is it?" she inquired coolly, toying with the studded collar she wore.
"How should I know?" he demanded, his voice rising squeakily in outrage at her tone. "She told me nothing, and then had the bad taste to die before her will was finalized!"
"Relax," Alexis advised coldly. "You'll get your money, the whole lot of it, I shouldn't wonder."
He muttered something uncomplimentary and shuffled away, seeking a new victim.
*
Outside the funeral home, one long, leather-clad leg thrown casually over the saddle of her motorcycle, Alexis read her grandmother's letter.
My dearest granddaughter,
If you are reading this, it means that I am no longer with you. I am sorry for that, but know that I will always be thinking of you, and keeping an eye on you!
Do you remember that night, many years ago, when it snowed so hard that school was cancelled for two days? Do you remember the story I told you that first night? Of course you do. You never forget anything, the little girl with a mind like a steel trap. Well, I suppose I must get to the point sooner or later; I may as well make it sooner.
You see, I wish to ask for a favor, a dying woman's last request. Please, go back home to Suburbia. I know that you hate the sight of it, but, please do this, for me. I ask you to take the necklace you will find inside this envelope to Edward, if he is still alive.
Also enclosed in this envelope is the deed to the house and grounds where he lives (if indeed, as I suspect, he still does). Don't ask how I got it, please. Suffice it to say I pulled a few strings, talked to a few "friends" at city hall, and used a good fraction of the money that would otherwise have gone to your grandfather. If you wish to tell him where it went, do so, if not, that is fine with me as well.
Please give these things to Edward, as well as my regards.
Remember that I love you always, no matter what. Thank you, my darling.
Grandma Kim
*
The streetlights shrank to orangey dots far below as Alexis rode her motorcycle up the winding path to the house at the top of the mountain.
The headlight on her motorcycle made a cone of whiteness in the mist that surrounded the house, muffling all noise. Almost reluctantly, she shut off the engine, killing the light, and pulled off her helmet, shaking out her long ebony hair. She pulled off her gloves and threw them carelessly into the helmet, leaving it on the seat of the motorcycle. Holding her grandmother's envelope firmly in her left hand, she pushed open the rusty iron gate and entered the grounds of the old house.
The only noise was the crunch of gravel under her feet, but she felt unnervingly like she was being watched. Still, she squared her shoulders, strode boldly up the weather-beaten front steps, and rapped loudly on the front door.
There was no answer, but then, she really hadn't been expecting one.
Pushing the door open, she strode boldly inside, her footsteps echoing like gunshots in the dark expanse of the gloomy room inside. The door closed of its own accord behind her.
Giving herself a firm telling off for even thinking of chickening out at that stage of the game, she strode purposefully across the hall to the staircase, eyeing the odd statue off to her right as she climbed the stairs.. It looked vaguely like the Balrog from Lord of the Rings, only smaller, and minus the wings. She argued with herself silently.
'What if he's dead?' said a small voice in the back of her mind. 'I... I don't want to be the one to find him if he is. Call me a coward, say what you will, but I don't.'
'If he's dead,' said an answering voice, slyly, 'Then who did you sense watching you outside? His ghost?'
A third voice silenced the first two, saying firmly, 'Grandma Kim said he was likely still alive, and that should be good enough for me.'
She reached a landing where a passage branched off, and paused to think. What had her grandmother said? 'Keep going, all the way to the top- to the attic.' She pressed on up the next flight of stairs.
The narrow stairwell opened out into a broad expanse of wooden floor, the boards, rough and unfinished, creaked under Alexis' feet as she took three steps into the room and halted, looking around.
Here was the room her grandmother had described in such loving detail. The roof overhead was partially collapsed, and she could see a few stars through the opening. On her right, set into the wall, was a large fireplace; empty, its walls covered in magazine and newspaper clippings, some old, some newer.
She could see very little outside of a ten foot radius from where she stood, because of the deep shadows cast by the remains of the roof. It didn't matter, though. Her grandmother's stories told her what to look (and listen) for.
A quiet clicking noise in a far corner off to her left brought her head around sharply. She narrowed her eyes and peered into the gloom. The glint of metal caught her eye almost immediately.
Working up her courage, she called softly, "Edward?"
A shuffling noise and the sound of footsteps growing nearer met her ears. Someone stopped just outside her ten foot circle of sight, their face and form hidden in the darkness.
A soft, boyish voice said, "Who is there?" His tone betrayed no hostility, only innocent curiosity.
"Edward?" she said again.
He stepped forward into the light. The years, it seemed, had had no effect on him, for his scarred face was unlined by time, and his body was still slender and youthful. His nearly black eyes regarded her warily as he asked, "Who are you?"
"I am Alexis- Alex, if you like," she answered, suddenly struck by the grim fact that she had no idea what to say to him.
He took a few tentative steps nearer. His movement was stiff and deliberate. His hands- if you could call them hands- were raised defensively, as though he thought she might suddenly attack him. Startled, she realized that for all he could kill her without half-trying, he was afraid of her.
She smiled encouragingly, keeping her own hands open at her sides.
He stopped again, some five feet away from her now. He said nothing, but simply gazed at her out of black, fathomless eyes. His eyes went from her black leather garb to the studded collar at her throat to her unkempt black mane of hair to her pale face, made nearly white with makeup.
At last he said, in a quiet, contemplative voice, "You look like me."
