Disclaimer: I do not own Lara Croft, Tomn Raider etc. I am not making any
money with this work of fiction.
Notes: This story was written on Christmas Eve some four years ago when I was travelling in Australia as a Christmas card for a friend back home. Please bear in mind during reading that the way Lara is portrayed here is not really how I see her, but a mere vessel for suitably Christmassy melodrama. I don't think she would make the choices she has made here.
I personally love Christmas stories - they keep up a tradition on storytelling and in TR fic often pay homage to the classics of literature. Ryan Foley's "December Soul" and Sarah Crisman's "Lara Croft and The Surprise Visitor" probably had a heavy influence on how this little piece ended up.
Enough has been said, I do hope you enjoy the ride :=)
============================================== A Night For The Living by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) ==============================================
Chapter 3
Silently, Lara Croft lead the teenagers to the upper landing of the main hall staircase.Without a word, she raised her white, thin arms towards the ceiling, raising a cold, whispering wind.
The wind blew out all the chandeliers and occupied the emptiness of the huge hall and the stairs.
It was whispering, screaming silently, moving, flying, floating around. In the moving wind Chrissie, Lewis, Brad and Nicky could see twisted faces and
they heard words.
Lara lowered her hands and the stormy wind somehow fell down to the main hall floor several metres below the small group and turned to a raging grey mass, with an occasional begging hand raising from the spiritual storm.
Lara blinked, raising her finger and stepping away.
A pillar separated from the mass and started floating in midair. It took the shape of two persons: an elderly man and a young woman who looked like Lara Croft but only a lot younger. Their whispering turned into a conversation carried out by the transparent, floating, ghostly forms.
"If you dare leave now, you can never return. Do you understand me?"
"Clearly, Father!!" The young woman screamed, and then ran down a set of stairs forming from the greyish fog to a door also formed by the grey mass. Outside of the door the woman stopped, and a single tear, accompanied by other tears moments later, fell down her cheeks. Then the picture in the shadowy theater faded and melted into the grey sea of whispers down on the hall floor.
Chrissie, frightened and puzzled, looked at the ghost Lara.
"Lara Croft, age twenty-one." Lara explained, raising her hands again.
The storm hovered and whispered. And from the mass deep down on the floor, another eerie scene formed.
A familiar woman in her mid-twenties, in bed with a man. She was resting peacefully in his arms.
"I love you, Lara."
No answer to that. Instead the woman said:
"I'm leaving for Indonesia tomorrow. I've arranged a flight for you back to
New York for tomorrow."
The man raised himself to a sitting position, staring at the woman.
"Tomorrow? Tomorrow?! You said we could have a quiet weekend together, Lara."
"I have to go. It's urgent. I've been waiting to be able to visit this dig for ages. You have to unders..."
"You know what, Lara Croft? I am so tired of being your raggedy doll all the time. It's all about you. What about me? What about me wanting to be with you? Marry you, Lara Croft? You never even bothered to answer that!"
"Well, if you want an answer, it's a definite no." the woman said with a rather cold tone.
"You know what, Lara Croft. You begged for this. Prepare for a very official and urgent goodbye."
"Vic, I never meant, I...."
"Oh spare me while you still have some dignity left," the man retorted, grabbed his clothes and marched out, leaving the younger Lara Croft draped into the blankets, looking flushed.
The figures melt down again.
The scene gave its place to another.
This time it was Lara alone. It was Christmas. She was slowly swallowing down a Christmas dinner in front of a small Christmas tree, with only one gift underneath. The shadow-Lara left the dinner - almost uneaten, and grabbed the present. She tore away the paper, and opened the box inside.
Perfume. With a card from Hans Warsteiner, one of her long-time colleagues.
Lara took the bottle upstairs to a closet, and left it there to accompany at least five bottles of the same perfume. All with a ribbon and a card signed by Hans.
"Thank you, Hans." She muttered, and looked at the calendar. 24.12 2001.
Shadow-Lara Croft slowly promenaded downstairs and went back to sit near the Christmas tree. Then she picked up a phone and dialled a number written in her phonebook.
"Hello? I'm trying to reach Lord Henshingly, is he available? Who? I'm his daughter. Yes. Lara Croft. Oh. Thank you anyway. Merry Christmas," she whispered to the received, a single tear falling down her cheek as she put it down. Moments later she gave into a floow of tears.
Crying violently, she walked to a small toilet and swallowed down a couple of valiums accompanied with water. On the toilet shelves could be seen an impressive collection of sedatives, bottles of valium, even a half-empty bottle of anti-depressants.
The shadow-Lara Croft sighed heavily and Chrissie, still watching the ghostly scene up in the walkway, gazed at the ghost Lara, who had turned away from the teenagers. By the movements of her hand Chrissie guessed she was wiping off tears. 'I didn't know ghosts could cry', Chrissie thought.
In the meanwhile, the shadow-Lara, still playing her ghostly scene, hovering in midair, had come out of the toilet, looking very tired yet confident.
She walked to the library which was forming out of the greyish mass of whispers. She switched something on and soon the whole house was filled with silent music.
Sad-toned piano music.
The shadowy Lara walked downstairs, into a small room with glass cases. She
kicked down a case, and among shards of glass picked up a knife that Chrissie thought looked vaguely like the dagger in the newspaper scrap.
The shadow-Lara walked up the stairs again, stopping where the real-or-so ghost Lara stood, fusioning itself into her. They were one.
With a single plunge the ghost of Lara Croft sunk the blade of the dagger right into her heart, falling down to the grey mass of whispers, eyes open,
expression empty.
In a matter of minutes the house was silent. No ghosts, no whispering sea of spirits, just dust and darkness. Chrissie, Lewis, Brad and Nicky looked at one another, incapable of uttering a word.
They had all learned a lesson and in their hearts they now knew what to do about certains aspects of their lives.
Reluctant to discuss what they had seen, they found their flashlight in the hall. In silent contemplation they made their way to the door, out of the garden, and eventually, to the Granger house.
It was nearly dawn. Chrissie had spent the rest of the night lying awake in her bed. She had left a note next to Madeline's bed addressed to 'Mother'. Chrissie felt safe, for the first time of her life. Happy. But there was something that troubled her.
She got out of bed and opened the window, gazing to the dark sky.
"Where are you, Lara Croft?" she whispered.
"Not far", came the answer from the opposite side of the room.
Something told Chrissie the ghost of Lara Croft wasn't a ghost anymore. She no longer wore the blue dress. Instead she was clad in brown shorts and a white shirt. Her hair was in a plait, hiking boots laced tight. She no longer had a detached expression spread over a sadly pale face. Now she shone with youth, and her smile was genuine. She looked more like someone living than someone long gone.
"I came to say goodbye. And a classical ghost's thankyou."
"What do you mean?" asked Chrissie.
"After making a difference in your life, I am free. You can tell the caretaker to move in and have a lovely time. It is a lovely house now. Not a house of bad dreams. Not a lonely one at all."
"You're not lonely anymore?" Chrissie asked.
Lara Croft shook her head, a gentle smile on her lips.
Then she vanished, leaving Chrissie alone in the room, a whole new life awaiting for her.
The end
******************************
Comments? Questions? Virtual kisses? Death threats?
All will be dealt with accordingly :=)
Heidi siirma6@surfeu.fi
Notes: This story was written on Christmas Eve some four years ago when I was travelling in Australia as a Christmas card for a friend back home. Please bear in mind during reading that the way Lara is portrayed here is not really how I see her, but a mere vessel for suitably Christmassy melodrama. I don't think she would make the choices she has made here.
I personally love Christmas stories - they keep up a tradition on storytelling and in TR fic often pay homage to the classics of literature. Ryan Foley's "December Soul" and Sarah Crisman's "Lara Croft and The Surprise Visitor" probably had a heavy influence on how this little piece ended up.
Enough has been said, I do hope you enjoy the ride :=)
============================================== A Night For The Living by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) ==============================================
Chapter 3
Silently, Lara Croft lead the teenagers to the upper landing of the main hall staircase.Without a word, she raised her white, thin arms towards the ceiling, raising a cold, whispering wind.
The wind blew out all the chandeliers and occupied the emptiness of the huge hall and the stairs.
It was whispering, screaming silently, moving, flying, floating around. In the moving wind Chrissie, Lewis, Brad and Nicky could see twisted faces and
they heard words.
Lara lowered her hands and the stormy wind somehow fell down to the main hall floor several metres below the small group and turned to a raging grey mass, with an occasional begging hand raising from the spiritual storm.
Lara blinked, raising her finger and stepping away.
A pillar separated from the mass and started floating in midair. It took the shape of two persons: an elderly man and a young woman who looked like Lara Croft but only a lot younger. Their whispering turned into a conversation carried out by the transparent, floating, ghostly forms.
"If you dare leave now, you can never return. Do you understand me?"
"Clearly, Father!!" The young woman screamed, and then ran down a set of stairs forming from the greyish fog to a door also formed by the grey mass. Outside of the door the woman stopped, and a single tear, accompanied by other tears moments later, fell down her cheeks. Then the picture in the shadowy theater faded and melted into the grey sea of whispers down on the hall floor.
Chrissie, frightened and puzzled, looked at the ghost Lara.
"Lara Croft, age twenty-one." Lara explained, raising her hands again.
The storm hovered and whispered. And from the mass deep down on the floor, another eerie scene formed.
A familiar woman in her mid-twenties, in bed with a man. She was resting peacefully in his arms.
"I love you, Lara."
No answer to that. Instead the woman said:
"I'm leaving for Indonesia tomorrow. I've arranged a flight for you back to
New York for tomorrow."
The man raised himself to a sitting position, staring at the woman.
"Tomorrow? Tomorrow?! You said we could have a quiet weekend together, Lara."
"I have to go. It's urgent. I've been waiting to be able to visit this dig for ages. You have to unders..."
"You know what, Lara Croft? I am so tired of being your raggedy doll all the time. It's all about you. What about me? What about me wanting to be with you? Marry you, Lara Croft? You never even bothered to answer that!"
"Well, if you want an answer, it's a definite no." the woman said with a rather cold tone.
"You know what, Lara Croft. You begged for this. Prepare for a very official and urgent goodbye."
"Vic, I never meant, I...."
"Oh spare me while you still have some dignity left," the man retorted, grabbed his clothes and marched out, leaving the younger Lara Croft draped into the blankets, looking flushed.
The figures melt down again.
The scene gave its place to another.
This time it was Lara alone. It was Christmas. She was slowly swallowing down a Christmas dinner in front of a small Christmas tree, with only one gift underneath. The shadow-Lara left the dinner - almost uneaten, and grabbed the present. She tore away the paper, and opened the box inside.
Perfume. With a card from Hans Warsteiner, one of her long-time colleagues.
Lara took the bottle upstairs to a closet, and left it there to accompany at least five bottles of the same perfume. All with a ribbon and a card signed by Hans.
"Thank you, Hans." She muttered, and looked at the calendar. 24.12 2001.
Shadow-Lara Croft slowly promenaded downstairs and went back to sit near the Christmas tree. Then she picked up a phone and dialled a number written in her phonebook.
"Hello? I'm trying to reach Lord Henshingly, is he available? Who? I'm his daughter. Yes. Lara Croft. Oh. Thank you anyway. Merry Christmas," she whispered to the received, a single tear falling down her cheek as she put it down. Moments later she gave into a floow of tears.
Crying violently, she walked to a small toilet and swallowed down a couple of valiums accompanied with water. On the toilet shelves could be seen an impressive collection of sedatives, bottles of valium, even a half-empty bottle of anti-depressants.
The shadow-Lara Croft sighed heavily and Chrissie, still watching the ghostly scene up in the walkway, gazed at the ghost Lara, who had turned away from the teenagers. By the movements of her hand Chrissie guessed she was wiping off tears. 'I didn't know ghosts could cry', Chrissie thought.
In the meanwhile, the shadow-Lara, still playing her ghostly scene, hovering in midair, had come out of the toilet, looking very tired yet confident.
She walked to the library which was forming out of the greyish mass of whispers. She switched something on and soon the whole house was filled with silent music.
Sad-toned piano music.
The shadowy Lara walked downstairs, into a small room with glass cases. She
kicked down a case, and among shards of glass picked up a knife that Chrissie thought looked vaguely like the dagger in the newspaper scrap.
The shadow-Lara walked up the stairs again, stopping where the real-or-so ghost Lara stood, fusioning itself into her. They were one.
With a single plunge the ghost of Lara Croft sunk the blade of the dagger right into her heart, falling down to the grey mass of whispers, eyes open,
expression empty.
In a matter of minutes the house was silent. No ghosts, no whispering sea of spirits, just dust and darkness. Chrissie, Lewis, Brad and Nicky looked at one another, incapable of uttering a word.
They had all learned a lesson and in their hearts they now knew what to do about certains aspects of their lives.
Reluctant to discuss what they had seen, they found their flashlight in the hall. In silent contemplation they made their way to the door, out of the garden, and eventually, to the Granger house.
It was nearly dawn. Chrissie had spent the rest of the night lying awake in her bed. She had left a note next to Madeline's bed addressed to 'Mother'. Chrissie felt safe, for the first time of her life. Happy. But there was something that troubled her.
She got out of bed and opened the window, gazing to the dark sky.
"Where are you, Lara Croft?" she whispered.
"Not far", came the answer from the opposite side of the room.
Something told Chrissie the ghost of Lara Croft wasn't a ghost anymore. She no longer wore the blue dress. Instead she was clad in brown shorts and a white shirt. Her hair was in a plait, hiking boots laced tight. She no longer had a detached expression spread over a sadly pale face. Now she shone with youth, and her smile was genuine. She looked more like someone living than someone long gone.
"I came to say goodbye. And a classical ghost's thankyou."
"What do you mean?" asked Chrissie.
"After making a difference in your life, I am free. You can tell the caretaker to move in and have a lovely time. It is a lovely house now. Not a house of bad dreams. Not a lonely one at all."
"You're not lonely anymore?" Chrissie asked.
Lara Croft shook her head, a gentle smile on her lips.
Then she vanished, leaving Chrissie alone in the room, a whole new life awaiting for her.
The end
******************************
Comments? Questions? Virtual kisses? Death threats?
All will be dealt with accordingly :=)
Heidi siirma6@surfeu.fi