Gravity Killer
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- Posted: Fri, 21 Sep 2012 17:37:04 +0000
It was a full moon that night, but the five teenagers that gathered in the woods could not see the bright night-light underneath the thick tangle of tree-limbs and leafs. They were a bit of an odd-bunch, almost walking stereotypes of their high school cliques; Punk Boy and Punk Girl, Goth Chick, Sick Kid and the Wallflower. But this was far from the Breakfast Club. They kept a far distance from each other, with the exception of the two punks who clung to each other with drunken smiles slapped onto their faces. Goth Chick pointed at a part of the forest floor. Impishly Punk Girl pulled out a spray can from her boyfriend’s jacket and burned bright red pentagram where the Goth Chick had pointed. She handed right back when she was finished, and the spray can disappeared into Punk Boy’s over-sized military coat.
“Sit on each point of the star.” Goth Chick commanded and her companions scrambled to do so. She was about to take her position, but a noise in the bushes caught her attention. She strained her eyes to find the source, but when her search yielded no fruit, she returned to the task at hand. She knelt reverently and the others copied, the Punk Girl giggling and she went down. Goth Chick shot her a dirty look to make her be quiet. She looked at each of them; the grieving daughter, the terminally ill boy, the two outcast of society and her; the witch. Each were very different but united by a common fear; death. It had taken one conversation, one trip to an out of the way bookstore to bring them to this spot. Tonight they were going to defy what was thought to be the greatest unbreakable law in all of existence.
The Punk Boy pulled out a syringe from some part of his jacket and the group passed it ceremoniously till it fell into the lap of the Sick Kid. His pale thin hands shakily picked it up; his wide eyes darted back and forth to each of them. The witch nodded comfortingly and with one swift plunge, he injected the poison into his veins.
He slumped over.
They made quick work of the next step; the witch beginning the chants while the others tried to follow along as best they could.
“Dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro.”
They went on and on, their voices rising in concentration and effort till they went hoarse from the strain. The corpse amongst them did not stir.
“Did we do something wrong?” the Wallflower asked.
“Nah,” The Punk Boy replied. “She’s a fake!”
The witch simply bowed her head and allowed the others to grumble and then slowly walk away from the circle. Soon it was just her and the corpse in the quiet night. She waited, staring intensely at the small form. It twitched and then began to sit up.
“Fools.” The witch and the body whispered at the same time.
Two figures huddled in the shadows of a dark alley somewhere in town. They broke apart after some time and the Punk Girl’s voice whispered. “Do you think the police will come looking for us?”
“Nah,” replied the Punk Boy.” They’ll think it was a weird suicide or that witch did them in.”
“What about the syringe?”
“Wiped it clean.”
“You’re so smart.”
The two returned to clinging to each other but stopped when as a third, darker shadow covered them. The boy looked up and frightened pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket.
“You’re supposed to be dead! “ He whispered hoarsely.
The Wallflower pulled her body through her body through her bedroom window, tears threatening to fall. She had been such a fool to believe all those lies. She spotted at the crucifix that hung over her bed and looked away guiltily. That poor boy… She thought and sat down on the corner of her mattress and stared at the floor, her overwhelming sadness swallowing her into the edge of comatose.
Her door cracked open in a wild head of hair peered in through the slit.
“I see you; I see what you have done!” It whispered. It was her older sister, restricted to the house due to her paranoid schizophrenia that had robbed her of all her senses. “You do bad things! Confess! Confess to God!”
“Shut up!” The Wallflower nearly shouted. “Bad things have happened to me! And don’t you start on that religious crap! It was your fault Dad died in the crash! Your fault, we’re dirt poor from paying for all your medications! Why doesn’t Mom just dump you in some home and be done with it?”
The older woman backed away from the door, still muttering under her breath till she disappeared back to the shadows. The girl leaned back on her bed and sobbed into the sheets. A voice whispered and she shot up; thinking her sister had returned. She prepared to start her tirade anew but stopped short when she saw who stood before her. His skinny pale form stood out in the dark room. He smiled gleefully.
“You’re alive!” she whispered excitedly. “It worked!”
“Yes it did!” he replied. “It just took a minute and guess what! I have powers; I can fly!”
“Really? We have to tell the group!”
“I already did. They are all waiting in the woods. Come on and we’ll join them!” He extended a skeletal hand. She took it and was lead to a still open window. She stopped and protested. “But we’ll, we’ll-“
“I can fly, remember?”
She stopped and though for a moment and allowed herself to be lead again. Slowly he went through the window; she followed. Out onto the porch roof they marched until they reached the edge. The boy floated out in space still holding her hand. She looked at the ground; the doubt returning to her tear-stained face. But she looked up and the floating entity before her and she floated up with him.
She didn’t notice her body falling.
In the woods, a girl lies crumpled on the forest floor, a syringe sticking out of her arm and the widest smile on her face; five feet away lay the body of a cancer victim. In an alley two figures; a boy and a girl hold each other and a girl hold each other. They look nearly peaceful but for the thin ribbon of red on each neck. In a neighborhood, a broken body of a girl lies in front of a house. In the window above, a woman screams, her crazed ranting drowned out by sirens that approach the scene of the crime.
Above the entire city, Death floats gracefully. Tucking five souls underneath its coat, it disappears into the fading black as dawn appears on the horizon.
“Sit on each point of the star.” Goth Chick commanded and her companions scrambled to do so. She was about to take her position, but a noise in the bushes caught her attention. She strained her eyes to find the source, but when her search yielded no fruit, she returned to the task at hand. She knelt reverently and the others copied, the Punk Girl giggling and she went down. Goth Chick shot her a dirty look to make her be quiet. She looked at each of them; the grieving daughter, the terminally ill boy, the two outcast of society and her; the witch. Each were very different but united by a common fear; death. It had taken one conversation, one trip to an out of the way bookstore to bring them to this spot. Tonight they were going to defy what was thought to be the greatest unbreakable law in all of existence.
The Punk Boy pulled out a syringe from some part of his jacket and the group passed it ceremoniously till it fell into the lap of the Sick Kid. His pale thin hands shakily picked it up; his wide eyes darted back and forth to each of them. The witch nodded comfortingly and with one swift plunge, he injected the poison into his veins.
He slumped over.
They made quick work of the next step; the witch beginning the chants while the others tried to follow along as best they could.
“Dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro, dio resturitm necro.”
They went on and on, their voices rising in concentration and effort till they went hoarse from the strain. The corpse amongst them did not stir.
“Did we do something wrong?” the Wallflower asked.
“Nah,” The Punk Boy replied. “She’s a fake!”
The witch simply bowed her head and allowed the others to grumble and then slowly walk away from the circle. Soon it was just her and the corpse in the quiet night. She waited, staring intensely at the small form. It twitched and then began to sit up.
“Fools.” The witch and the body whispered at the same time.
Two figures huddled in the shadows of a dark alley somewhere in town. They broke apart after some time and the Punk Girl’s voice whispered. “Do you think the police will come looking for us?”
“Nah,” replied the Punk Boy.” They’ll think it was a weird suicide or that witch did them in.”
“What about the syringe?”
“Wiped it clean.”
“You’re so smart.”
The two returned to clinging to each other but stopped when as a third, darker shadow covered them. The boy looked up and frightened pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket.
“You’re supposed to be dead! “ He whispered hoarsely.
The Wallflower pulled her body through her body through her bedroom window, tears threatening to fall. She had been such a fool to believe all those lies. She spotted at the crucifix that hung over her bed and looked away guiltily. That poor boy… She thought and sat down on the corner of her mattress and stared at the floor, her overwhelming sadness swallowing her into the edge of comatose.
Her door cracked open in a wild head of hair peered in through the slit.
“I see you; I see what you have done!” It whispered. It was her older sister, restricted to the house due to her paranoid schizophrenia that had robbed her of all her senses. “You do bad things! Confess! Confess to God!”
“Shut up!” The Wallflower nearly shouted. “Bad things have happened to me! And don’t you start on that religious crap! It was your fault Dad died in the crash! Your fault, we’re dirt poor from paying for all your medications! Why doesn’t Mom just dump you in some home and be done with it?”
The older woman backed away from the door, still muttering under her breath till she disappeared back to the shadows. The girl leaned back on her bed and sobbed into the sheets. A voice whispered and she shot up; thinking her sister had returned. She prepared to start her tirade anew but stopped short when she saw who stood before her. His skinny pale form stood out in the dark room. He smiled gleefully.
“You’re alive!” she whispered excitedly. “It worked!”
“Yes it did!” he replied. “It just took a minute and guess what! I have powers; I can fly!”
“Really? We have to tell the group!”
“I already did. They are all waiting in the woods. Come on and we’ll join them!” He extended a skeletal hand. She took it and was lead to a still open window. She stopped and protested. “But we’ll, we’ll-“
“I can fly, remember?”
She stopped and though for a moment and allowed herself to be lead again. Slowly he went through the window; she followed. Out onto the porch roof they marched until they reached the edge. The boy floated out in space still holding her hand. She looked at the ground; the doubt returning to her tear-stained face. But she looked up and the floating entity before her and she floated up with him.
She didn’t notice her body falling.
In the woods, a girl lies crumpled on the forest floor, a syringe sticking out of her arm and the widest smile on her face; five feet away lay the body of a cancer victim. In an alley two figures; a boy and a girl hold each other and a girl hold each other. They look nearly peaceful but for the thin ribbon of red on each neck. In a neighborhood, a broken body of a girl lies in front of a house. In the window above, a woman screams, her crazed ranting drowned out by sirens that approach the scene of the crime.
Above the entire city, Death floats gracefully. Tucking five souls underneath its coat, it disappears into the fading black as dawn appears on the horizon.
