Zombilight

1/ WHY (Part 2)

2009-06-22T09:48:00.000-07:00

Sure enough, the fog was still there when I awoke.
Its like a constant smog that sucks the energy out of this place. A cage of despair and loathing. The fact that you could never see the sky only furthered my suspicion that this place was a prison and I was its captive.

Breakfast with Dennis was quiet. We didn't know what to say to each other, after all. In silence we ate and the heavy atmosphere was just as oppressive as it was outside in the cloak. I thanked him mentally for not speaking – I do not look forward to father-daughter conversations. He left first, leaving me to sit in the kitchen and look around the room.
A wedding photo caught my eye. My father and my mother. And just beyond that was another photo of them together, smiling. The cabinets in the kitchen were painted the same color my mother had them and the couch had a knit that my mother did years before I was born. And just beyond that were my photos.
Kindergarten up. It was embarrassing to look at . I tried my best to grimace a smile at the thought of my goofy self before grabbing my keys and exiting to the monster I was master of outside.

I needed to get outside. I couldn't breathe in that house, knowing my father never got over my mother. It was heartwarming, but filled me with a sense of...I don't know, hurt? Sickness? I wasn't about to bother to explore the feeling any further than I needed to.
I didn't intend to reach the school early, but it wound up happening as my monster barreled through the roads. Dennis didn't tell me how powerful it was to drive, nor how ferocious the roar of the engine was. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be so excited about it, but the feeling was already there and I couldn't resist the urge to drive around the parking lot a few times out of sheer excitement.
Donning my jacket and exiting into the pea soup – I didn't have my biohazard suit, so I had to do with what I had – I entered that world and threw my expectations behind.

Inside the truck was nice. It was warm. I could see inside of it. Out here? I constantly bumped into people who popped out of nowhere, throwing an apology here and hurrying past there. Finding the school was easy once I dodged trees and bushes here and there.
Did this school fit the norm of others schools on this side of the world? As the nostalgic thoughts filled my head, I couldn't help but wonder. Where were the fabled metal detectors and chain link fences? It looked no more different than the school I left behind.
Finally, I entered the building.

The inside was strangely bright and warm. Not a single metal barred doorway or armed guard in sight. The office was just off the the corner and inside of it was normal fare as well. It was small-ish and brown carpeted, with a grandfather clock ticking away to the side of the room. Plastic plants grew in plastic pots and a woman unusually thick glasses looked up and stared at me as I approached.

“You're...Elizabeth Beau, right?”
She knew me on sight. I could almost see her thoughts. So this is the fabled daughter of Dennis Beau. She's so normal looking. I was expecting someone different, someone more exotic. The woman who ran away and took this girl really didn't bring much with her, did she?
I bet everyone in the school had these thoughts about me.
“Yes. Yes, I'm Elizabeth—“
“Oh yes, of course you are,” she interrupts. Immediately and almost automatically she begins digging in a stack of papers before handing a packet to me. A school map. A schedule. A few forms to be filled out by family. The usual first-day of school type things.
She even marked the best routes for me to take. How nice of her.

I returned to the truck and this time, I noticed all the students I passed were staring at me and those who were arriving were casting longer glances than usual as well. I was glad to see a few of the cars were older – and much smaller and fragile looking – than mine. The nicest car I could see was a lone Mercedes Benz not too far away from mine, shiny and clean.
It stood out. I wanted to crush it.
Returning to the school, I surveyed my map closely. Memorization was never a strong suit of mine and I had a bad sense of direction to begin with. I dreaded the thought of walking around with it taped to my nose all day. And so, taking a deep breath and pumping myself up, I threw it in my bag and began to wander.

I circled my classroom two times before someone pointed me to room 3-1. I could feel my breath catching in my chest as I reached for the door, nearly at hyperventilation as I stood outside. I can do this. This is okay. No one in there is going to crack my skull open and eat my brains. Take a deep breath, girl. You can do this.
Gasping and feeling my vision go dizzy, I grabbed the handle and yanked it open.
Everyone in the classroom stared at me the minute I walked in. Of course they stared at me. I was a freak. My breathing was erratic as I made my way to the first empty seat, gasping and panting the whole while.

“What's with that girl,” I heard someone whisper.
“I dunno. Looks like she's freaking out,” someone else muttered sarcastically.
“What the heck is wrong with her? Ain't she ever been to a classroom before?”

A porcelain blond girl and another girl with long black hair smiled at me as I walked by and my face flushed bright red. Eventually, I dropped in a chair at the back of the class, trying to catch my breath.
“Yo!”
I squeaked as a person next to me leaned over to greet me. A guy in glasses who gave off the needlessly geeky, chess playing and bug collecting vibe. He seemed to have very oily skin as well.
“H-hello?” I ventured. He smiled a wild grin.
“Hi. I'm Jason. You're the new girl, right? What was it....Elizabeth Beau?”

At the sound of my name, every head in the classroom turned in my direction. Never did I have so many curious eyes on me at once. I almost fainted right there.
“H-hello Jason. Its a pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, she has manors. I thought someone from—what was it—Pennsylvania would be a little more snobby and stuff.”
He's trying to hard to be friendly. And the many curious eyes made me nervous as it was.
“Say, what's your next class? You seemed lost trying to get here, so let me walk you to the next, yeah?”
He always was overly friendly. Too friendly.
“Well, that would be nice, I guess...”
“Right. Well.”

That smile irritates me. It gives off too friendly a vibe. But I smiled back politely. “Thank you,” I supplied, and he turned his attention back to the class.

When the bell finally rang, the two of us grabbed our jackets and headed out into the fog. I was certain that, as we walked, there was a small crowd gathering behind me and Jason to eavesdrop. It may have been paranoia. But at the same time, a few people made comments about the conversation I and this friendly nerd were having.
“So, this is different from Penny, yeah?” He inquired.
“Well, yeah...”
“How so? I'm curious.”
“Well...I could see the sky.”
“Hm. Yeah, I suppose that is different,” He rubs his chin.
“How often do you see the sun out here, anyway?”
“...Maybe...once every two months or so. Sorry, its pretty glum out here. Don't get too down about it, yeah?”

Yeah, if you're a vampire. Or maybe something made of ice.
“Isn't it...sunny in Penny? You're kind of...pale, yeah?”
He says Yeah a lot, I noticed.
“My mother is half albino. So that'd made me quarter.”
“I...don't think thats how it works. Half albino would insinuate that its a race and not a lack of pigments in the skin, yeah? So, you can't be half albino – or quarter in your case – unless half – or a fourth – of your skin is, uh, unpigmenty or something.”
“...Uh. Yeah. I knew that.”
He studied my face as if he were checking to see if I were serious. I guess that not everyone gets humor in this town. Then again, I guess it was a pretty dumb joke to begin with, huh?

We crossed through the cafeteria and out the door. Even with the clearly marked door, Jason led me to the door.
“Well, here you are. Good luck and all that.”
“A-and all that?”
“Never mind. Enjoy class.” He shrugged. “Maybe we'll have another one together after this one, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice.”

He wanders off. I find myself wondering if he'd make it to class on time. I smiled vaguely and open the door.

The rest of the day followed the same pattern. Wander one class to another, so on and so forth. I decided I despised my science teacher after his class in particular, not just because he taught the course that he taught, but because he had the gall to make me stand at the front of class and introduce myself.
How dare he? He's on my list. He had better hope I don't find what he drives to be smaller than my behemoth.

It took two classes for me to remember names and faces. There would always be someone who went out of their way to introduce themselves to me and help me get situated. I tried to be equally friendly, but I wound up lying a lot and trying to get them to stop speaking to me as fast as possible.
On the upside, I didn't need my map anymore. I had enough people escorting me that I doubt that I'd ever need one at this rate.
A tiny girl sat next to me in Trig and Spanish, a little girl with big eyes and dyed pink hair in princess curls. I couldn't help but notice how tiny she was the entire class to the point where I lost track of the lesson in both. I couldn't even remember her name when she introduced herself to me. But she was nice. I think.

Finally, lunch came.
I got inside the cafeteria and the first thing that I spotted was Jason waving in my direction. The tiny girl was sitting next to him as well, I noticed. I walked past them at first, trying to make friends with a group of strangers, when I noticed him.

We locked eyes from across the room. I grabbed a drink while the rhythm – of my heart – boomed.
He was a very attractive young man. Lean, yet muscular. Masculine, yet beautiful. He approached another group of people and I realized how beautiful the crowd he surrounded himself with was as well. None of them looked alike, but they were all gorgeous.
The boys, two of them, were different. Unlike the other, this one was built like a mountain, carved and sculpted out of clay. By comparison, the first was boyish, but both of which looked looked like they could have been in college.
By comparison, the one girl was a dazzling beauty. She seemed to glow in the light, catching the attention of every man in the room as she approached them. She was built like a model, with a heaving bosom and long, slender legs. Her hips were rather shapely to match the rest of her. She could have been in a swimsuit calendar.
“Hey,” I hissed. “Who are they?”
“Oh,” Jason shrugged. “They're just...them. What were their names, Sarah?”
Sarah?
Oh, right, the tiny girl at my elbow. I didn't even notice she was here.
“They're the Summers. Don't think too much about them, they're kind of unobtainable and all that nonsense.”
“Unobtainable?”
“And the big guy – Jackson, I think,” Sarah points. “He's with the girl. Mary, I think she's called.”
Jackson? Mary?
Wait.

“You just said they're related. You mean they're....in a relationship?”
“Oh, they're all adopted,” Sarah shrugs. “The Summers can't have kids and stuff. Notice how they don't look alike? At all?”
“Well, yeah...”
“Because they're adopted. So yeah.”
I nodded. For such a small girl, she sure had lots of words to say.
“Have they,” I bit my thumb. “Have they always been in Point Reyes?”
“No,” Sarah continues. “They, uh...came from down south.”
“Southern California?”
“Mootico. I-I mean Mexico.”

...What a strange girl.
But I felt relief. Its good to know I'm not the only one who isn't from around here. Such beautiful outsiders...that relief was quickly met with envy. Even if they're outsiders, they're so good looking that no one would shun them. I'm still the most uninteresting sight here.

As I looked to them again, the youngest Summers looked over in my direction again. He held his gaze longer this time, before a scowl crossed his face. Whatever it is about me that keeps getting his attention, he doesn't like it. Somehow, knowing that such a beautiful creature disliked me already put a heavy feeling in my chest.
“What's his name?” I asked tentatively. “The younger one.”
“Uh...Chadwick. What an ugly name, right?” Sarah laughs. “Sounds so old and boring, like a dusty book or something.”
“I think its a fine name,” mutter before catching myself. Jason laughs this time.
“Well, he's gorgeous and all that. But you're better off sticking to real people and not that statue. He doesn't date anyway, so you'd be wasting your time,” he puffs his chest out with a wide smile, but I've never found myself disliking him as much as I do now.
I sneak another glance his way, but Chadwick doesn't even look in my direction. Instead, he seems to be going out of his way to ignore me, talking with the other Summers and not even acknowledging my presence in the crowded cafeteria.

I watched him up until, all at once, the three of them got up to leave. Like graceful works of art, they all moved fluidly and beautifully out of the cafeteria. The one named Chadwick never looked at me again.

We left as well. By the time we reached Biology 2, a new acquaintance who constantly reminded me her name was Tanya had joined my entourage, telling me all the things that needs to be known by the school. I wish she would have been quiet for a moment, but the girl continuously felt the need to educate me on everything there is to know. But when we entered the room, Tanya sat in a seat with someone already next to her.

...And there sat Chadwick Summers in a corner by himself, the only empty seat in the classroom.

I went to introduce myself to the teacher, but that conversation was a quick one. Take this book, take that seat. No nonsense, no extra talk. I could see I was going to like him a lot. And as I made my way to the seat, Chadwick Summers laid eyes on me.

His eyes were red. It may have been a trick of the light, but they looked really red. And a furious expression was on his face.
I sat next to him and he shifted uncomfortably. Neither of us looked the other in the eye. In fact, he sat as far on the edge of his seat as he could in an attempt to not be anywhere around me, it seemed. Unconsciously, I sniffed my armpits. I'm sure I wore deodorant today, so it wasn't as if I smelled bad. And I hadn't spoken to him, so my breath couldn't be a factor.
I was curious, though. Why had he given me such a villainous glare during lunch and why was he so adamant about getting away from me?

The lecture was on the central nervous system, something I had already studied. I found myself more interested in this young man next to me. When the bell rang, I was so taken by surprised that I jumped onto him.
He jumped back, recoiling in terror as if I had a viral disease on my skin. He glared at me with the most loathsome glare, as if he were actively trying to hate me to death. I found myself backing away as he slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the classroom in a hurry and leaving me alone to reflect on my thoughts.

“Aren't you Elizabeth Beau?”
I looked up. A cute boy stood behind me, baby faced with electric blue eyes and flawless skin. He had gelled his perfect blond hair into a faux hawk, I noticed. If someone like this could come talk to me, then I must not have smelled bad.
“You can call me Liza,” I offered, extending a hand. He stared at it for a moment before realized I was offering to shake and took it slowly.
“I'm Simon.”
“Hello Simon.”
“Need help finding your next class?”
“Oh no, I think I know this one. The gym is hard to miss.”
“Well, wouldn't you know. That my next one too.”

He seemed thrilled. I'm not sure if it was because of me or because of the thought of gym. He looked the type to be excited by sports.
He walked me to class, chattering along the way. He didn't expect me to reply either, which was a godsend. He lived here some while, he said, and was offering to help me along the way if I needed it. Turned out he was also in my English class.
He was the nicest person I met all day. How come no one else offered to help me and gave such a friendly conversation.

“So. Did you stab Chadwick or something?”
I winced as if I had been stabbed. It seemed everyone noticed.
“He's the boy I sat next to in biology, right?”
“Yeah, thats the guy. Bit of a douche, I'd say. Who could be mean to a girl on her first day?”
“I dunno. Maybe I said or did something without realize it?”

The conversation ended with that. PE went as PE goes. Somehow, Dodgeball came into the equation and the sadist of a teacher was gleefully enjoying it. I realized later that PE was mandatory for all four years of high school. Now it was confirmed that Point Reyes is and will always be my personal hell on earth.

Dodgeball led to dodgeball led to dodgeball led to dodgeball. How many new bruises did I accumulate?

I returned to the office with my signed papers in hand. The last bell of the day rang with the last strike of a dodgeball and everyone was leaving – not without casting glances at me and whispering probably about me as well. But when I stepped in the office, I found myself unable to breathe.
Chadwick Summers was there.
I recognized him by his messy hair. He didn't seem to notice me. I pressed my back against the wall and tried to completely disappear before he fixed that hateful glare on me once again.

He was arguing with the woman in a slow, sexy voice. He wanted – no, demanded – to change a class. Biology 2.
He wanted out of Biology 2 because of me? And from the sounds of it, he wanted out to any other class. Anything would do.
The door behind me opened and a gust of wind blew in, scattering papers and sending my hair flying. I tried to keep my things together, but Chadwick Summers' back stiffened at once. He swung around immediately, glaring at me so hard that I feared I would burst into flames. Genuine fear shot through me. It could have only lasted ten second, but the glare he had was so powerful that I almost felt my brain boil.

“Never mind,” his voice was as smooth as silk. “Its impossible, right? Thanks anyway.”
He turned on his heel and left. I swallowed and approached the desk and handed her my papers.

“How was your first day, dear?” The woman asked sweetly.
“Fine,” I lied. It was horrific, to say the least. Needless to say, she wasn't convinced.

When I left to get to the truck, I noticed I was one of the only two cars left in the lot. It was wonderfully silent, I thought with a smile. Turning the key, the monstrous behemoth roared to life. But I didn't have the urge to drive out. Instead, I sat there, staring out of the window.
Tears stung my eyes. Wiping them away, fled that dreadful place as quickly as possible.

[NEXT] - WHAT WILL HAPPEN ON THE SECOND DAY OF SCHOOL? NOTHING AGAIN? PROBABLY NOT ONE WAY TO FIND OUT AND ALL THAT NONSENSE!

1/ WHY (Part one)

2009-06-22T09:39:00.000-07:00

1/ Why?

It was sunny when I got on the plane in Pennsylvania . I remember how warm it was, how the breeze caught my hair when my mother rolled down the windows. It wasn't a hot day, but there was a pleasant sort of warmth to everything, an overwhelming feeling of life and happiness.
I was wearing my favorite outfit. I carried a parasol onto the plane with me. It was a farewell of sorts, a way to burn my image into my mother's mind of a youthful, wonderful girl.

I would be leaving this wonderful place for a place of perpetual gloom and unhappiness.
When a person hears California, they think sun and beaches and beautiful people for miles. Or maybe they think of San Fransisco and its rich community. The don't think of Point Reyes . Many people know nothing of the near permanent fog and storms that plague the area. My mother and I had fled from this place to sunny Pennsylvania, but now it was time for me to return to that accursed reality.

I was willingly exiling myself to that foggy wasteland, one that filled me with not the slightest bit of warmth. I loathed Point Reyes.

“Eliza,” my mother whispered for the last time of her billion protests. “You don't have to do this, you know.”
“I know. But I want to,” I lied. I was always a terrible liar. My mother could catch me in a lie, always. But she accepted this one grudgingly.

She stared at me deeply. It had always been said that I got all my genes from my mother – in comparison to my father, who I shared no features with, I was the spitting image of her. I looked exactly like her, though her hair was shorter and more profession in appearance and the occasional laugh line that framed her face here and there. There was a pang of regret deep within my heart. How could I leave my mother – my wonderful, eccentric, hair brained and unorganized mother to fend for herself without me? Of course, she had her boyfriend Chadwick, but that only guaranteed her bills would be paid, that there'd be food in the fridge, gas in her car...without me, she'd...

“We're here, babe,” she sobs as the airport looms ahead in the distance. I had always loved airplanes, but the joy that should have been there was only a feeling of being eaten away by the knowledge of what awaited me.

“You know I'm just a phone call away,” she reminded me. “Call me and I'll be right there.”
I shook my head.
“Don't worry mom,” I urged. “It'll be fine. I promise.”
She hugs me as if the entire world were about to end and with that, I hop aboard the plane.

Its a four hour flight from Pennsylvania to the middle of the US, then another three hours from there to California. By the time I arrive in San Fransisco, the person awaiting me is already there with a sign emblazon with “Elizabeth Beau.” The man who holds the sign is the man I call father, Mr. Dennis Beau.
I'm perfectly fine with plane rides no matter how long, but the ride back with Dennis was going to be unbearable.

Dennis is nice man in his own right. He's kind, easy to talk to, and very understanding for a father. But the fact that he and I have seen each other for a grand total of maybe two months for the past seven years leaves an awkward air no matter how close the two involved are.
He seemed genuinely pleased that I had chose to live with him and had even gone out of his way to register me to the local high school. He even said he had a present ready for me that I would enjoy very much.
The thing is, neither of us are particularly verbose. No, it would be best to say he was taciturn and I inherited that from him to the point of being a stoic.
That said, I could see he was puzzled. I hadn't made my hatred of Point Reyes secret.
When I landed in San Fransisco, it was still early morning. The mist that lined the streets was expected. I didn't see it as a sign, just something that was inevitable. I had already said my goodbyes to clear skies.

He smiles in my direction as I step away from the group. He throws an awkward hug over me, smiling all the while and looking me over.
“Its good to see you Liza,” he breathes. “You've grown since I last saw you, at least a foot! How's your mother?”
“She's fine. Its good to see you, Dad.” I wasn't allowed to call him Dennis out and out like we were unrelated. I am his daughter, after all.

I didn't have many bags to throw in the back of his truck. He quickly offered to help, but even I was able to lift the group of them without difficulty. Most of my clothes from Pennsylvania were left in Pennsylvania as a preventive gesture, to cut off my ties and to keep from drowning in the memories they carried with them.
“So, I found a good car for you,” Dennis announced as I climbed into the passenger seat of the vehicle. “You know, so you don't have your old man driving you around everywhere you go.”
“What kind?” The way he emphasized on “for you” had me worried. Why did he find it necessary to add that part at the end?

“Oh, well...” he rubs the back of his head. “Its, uh...it's used.”
“Used.”
“Yeah, well, I was working on short notice and discovered it. I took one look at it and thought, 'Now thats the perfect car for Liza.'”

Again with the perfect car for me. What is it?
“Remember that old friend of mine? Jimmy Dell?” He offered.
“No.”
“Oh. Well, we used to go fishing together when you were a kid....never mind.”

That's probably why I don't remember. I'm rather good at blocking out painful memories and that sounds like it would have fit in that category.
“Well, he lost his legs in an accident,” Dennis continues. “They got him these neat metal ones. Sort've looks like a cyborg now if you ask me, but it could have been worse. He runs faster than I've ever seen no—“
“What year is it?”
“Hm?”
“The car, I mean. What year is it?”

Judging by his expression, this wasn't the way the conversation was supposed to suddenly turn.
“W-well...it's not really a car, for one.”
“Huh—“
“It's a truck.”
“Huh?!”
A used truck? Well, I suppose beggars can't be choosers, but you're clearly hiding something.

“Jim's done a lot of work on it, you see. The engine is brand new—“
“When did he buy it?”
“1980-something. Early, so maybe 1982?”
“...Did he...buy it new?”
“Well, no. It might've been new in the 1960s, though. Or 1950s. Its hard to tell.”
“Den—Dad. I don't know much about cars, so I may be wrong, but it sounds like a hunk of junk...”
“That's not true. It's a Ford.”
“...I don't know anything about cars and I don't think I'd be able to afford a mechanic out here...”
“The thing runs great, Liza. Trust me, you'll like it. Its even got a new paint job.”

Thing? You don't call the “new” car you're telling your daughter about a thing if you want her to be confident about it. Though I will admit, it has a good ring to it. Thing...maybe a nickname of sorts.

“Well, um...how much is it?”
“Oh, don't worry. I already bought it. Think of it as a homecoming gift of sorts.”

Oh wow, it's free?

“You didn't have to do that. I was going to buy a car anyway,” I say quickly. He shakes his head and laughs.
“You're my daughter. If I can't do this much for you, what good am I,” He looks out to the road with a weary expression. “I just want you to be happy here, that's all.”
“Thanks Dad. I appreciate it. Really,” I smile at him, deciding to keep to myself the fact that arriving in Point Reyes has reduced any thoughts of unhappiness to be completely and utterly impossible. And I never looked a free truck – or rather, a thing with a new engine – in the mouth.

“Well. You're welcome.” He mumbles. The man was never good at expressing his emotions. I believe I inherited that from him.

We didn't really say much to each other for the rest of the ride. Dennis would occasionally make a comment about the weather and I'd grunt a response. Eventually, all conversation ceased and I was left to stare out the window as we came up on Point Reyes.
I could not deny how beautiful the scenery was. We'd pass a house with a beautiful lawn and another with a terrific bed of roses. There was so much manufactured plant life that I couldn't tell at first glance what was and wasn't real.

It was like everything out here was created – a false paradise made from the minds of humans.

Eventually, passing the falsehoods and decorations, we reached Dennis' house. In comparison to the other posh houses, the small dwelling doesn't show any attempts at decoration. He still lived in the two bedroom apartment that he and my mother bought after they were married. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had – the early ones, the ones of newly weds.
And sure enough, this simple house had something not quite simple sitting in the driveway – a truck. It was a brownish red, the color of rust and age. Big red fenders, huge lamps...it was a monstrous, skull crushing vehicle designed to destroy everything else on the road, two steps down on the evolutionary tree of the monster truck. A vehicle that could single handedly survive a seventeen car pile up with the scrap of everything around it ablaze.
“I love it!”
My father seems surprised by my exclamation. Not that I blame him – the way he described it, it was an ancient beast that was on its last legs. This...this was a behemoth, a king of the jungle. A monstrous monster fit for hunting and killing other monsters.
This completely guaranteed that my horrific day tomorrow would be at least marginally improved. Not only would I not have to walk two miles through the fog, I would have no mercy on anything that crossed my path in the cloak.

“Uh, yeah. Glad you like it,” Dennis mumbles gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, of course you like it. You do really like it, right?”
“Absolutely adore it!”
“Then...yeah. Its yours.”

Grinning sheepishly, he directs me to my room, carrying my bags up behind me. It only takes on trip and the stairs don't go up nearly as high to my room as expected – the remaining stairs lead straight up to the attic. The room he leads me to is a very familiar one, the same one I lived in when my parents were still together. Its been quite renovated since I last saw – what used to be a shelf filled with stuffed animals and the like is now filled with books such as Great Expectations and Oliver Twist.
I find myself smiling as I look around, gazing from one spot to another and admiring the fond memories that flood my mind.
“You like it?” Dennis asks.
“Love it,” I reply. I notice the phone line running along the floor to a bright red handset on a desk in the corner. My mother's single stipulation – she wouldn't let me come without some way to contact her. The same desk would be a good place to set my computer, the mother-hotline-desk if you will.
The best thing about Dennis is he doesn't linger. He doesn't hover. He doesn't do anything that would be called smothering, leaving me with just my thoughts and my self. Had my mother been here, she'd stand in the doorway, watching with piercing eyes and commenting here and there. Dennis, on the other hand, gave me the 'call me if you need me' comment and went about his way.
It was nice to not have to worry about smiling and faking any good feelings. I was left to my misery and could wallow in it until it vanished. I could stare out into that unpleasant fog and let a few tears drop without having to hide.
Crying didn't solve anything, but it felt good. Even then, I didn't feel like going on a full tear spilling binge. There was plenty of time for that in the morning.

The local high school, Point Reyes High...there was a grand total of maybe thee hundred – three hundred and one now – students. A wonderfully and pitifully small number – my junior high class had double that. Not only that, I would stand out – all the students here had grown up together. I would stand out no matter what I did.

The new girl. Of course I'd stand out. People will be gawking at me non-stop, the pale, ordinary new girl who came from the other side of the world. Too bad I'll be a disappointment – I don't look like a girl from Pennsylvania should.
Instead of being tall, blond, tan with blue eyes and pouting lips, I was pale, without the excuse of freckles and red hair. My eyes were dull, my body was slim and not curvy like a beautiful womans should be. I gave off the vibe of a flower child, a bookish girl, not the sexy girl or cheerleader that all men wanted.

I stuffed the last of my clothes in the ivory dresser and dropped on my bed with a huff. Tomorrow morning the fog would remain and the behemoth I called a vehicle would plod down the road towards that place of higher learning. I wouldn't even dare look in the mirror – even without glasses, I was very plain. I wouldn't stand out – people would take one glance at me and continue on their way.
Not only that, but I could never relate to...well, anyone. I think its because I have nothing to talk to anyone about. I'm not that up to date on current trends and such. I don't even think I'm looking at the world the same as other people.
With those heavy thoughts lingering on my brain, I drifted into sleep. And there, in the realm of of my dreams, only did I feel at ease.

BATHROOM BREAK, MOTHERFUCKERS. GO GET A SANDWICH
DON'T WORRY. I'LL WAIT

Lets Talk About The Round Robin

2009-06-18T19:25:00.000-07:00

So, there's about 7 different authors here, all writing independantly to provide new content for this project. The question is, "how is this going to work?"

Well, tag team style, obviously. Basically, each author, once they hit a certain point, will add the [NEXT] tag at the end of whatever awful chapter they're subjecting you to on this particular day. From there, the next person who jumps on will be whoever happens to jump on - there's really no set order.

Sure, this'll be a mess of a plot. But you knew that the minute you came here. And we're all pretty much on the same page anyway.

Happy Zombilight-ing!

0 : PREFACE

2009-06-17T10:40:00.000-07:00

In the beginning, there was only man.

But from man was born Eve.

And from Eve came life

—Some quote that sounded rather Biblical

0/PREFACE

The graveyard had always filled me with dread as a child, but as long as he was there, it was a paradise.
I'm certain there were worse ways to die than at the hands of such an angelic figure. Had I to choose, I gladly would die at his beautiful, delicate hand than at the hand of someone I didn't know, I didn't love.

Had I not come here, I would have never met him. I would have never met him, and with that I would have never fallen as deeply in love with him as I have. I wouldn't be facing near death now, but there would always be an unfilled void in my soul, where my chest would forever ache.
Would I know love?
Would I ever find the man of my dreams?

Had I not come here, these questions would forever haunt me, ringing through my very existence. But life is not so cruel. Life offers you a rare chance so far beyond comprehensible reality that you are drawn to it by force. Some call it fate, some call it destiny.

But, be it fate or be it destiny, I am here.
And as the predator in front of me smiles a friendly smile, I'm surprised to see there is no fear of the dark, no dread of the grave.

As he saunters towards me to end my life, I feel at...peace.

What Is ZombiLight?

2009-06-17T10:34:00.002-07:00

I had a dream.
One night, I had a dream. It was a wonderful, yet terrifying dream, but it was a dream none the less. And that dream, ladies and gentlemen was this:

What if it were possible to do to Zombies what was done to Vampires in Twilight?
Could you really de-zombie a zombie so much that people would willingly let their daughters date them?
Is it possible to make them so disgustingly romantic that everyone would eat them up?

As I awoke in a cold sweat at this thought, I put this thought up in a public place. That was when this project was born.

With the help of several memebers of NHWS, we shall partake in this struggle to dezombie the Zombie. We will Purple Prose. We will ignore all myths. We will use a town we know nothing about except the weather. We will not have a plot for most of the story. We will out-Stephanie Meyer Stephanie Meyer.

We will ruin the Zombie for all. And you will LIKE IT.

yeah this is a parody, what was your first guess?

No Heart Warming Stories Presents...

The second, Red-Headed Stepchild project...
The Web Original Novel Zombilight: A Tale of Love, Loss, and Zombies.
Your suffering begins now.