Silver Sunset Chapter One

Chapter One: Prologue

I walked along the curb of the road with my arms outstretched like wings. Each step was carefully placed heel to toe, and I reminisced about the way this simple action had brought me such a feeling of accomplishment as a child. I closed my eyes. The wind pushed my hair back out of my face, crisp and fresh with the nip of winter on its tongue. I inhaled a deep breath of the frostbitten air. The world turned red behind closed eyelids as a car whistled past, it’s headlights illuminating the darkness for a fleeting moment. A horn blared. I teetered precariously, and I felt the thrill pull my lips into a fierce grin. A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the street.

“What the fuck Shea?!” Shouted Bree, and I opened my eyes to see her flushed angry face. My grin faded.

“What? I’m fine. You just worry too much.”

“Or you don’t worry enough! Jesus, that car was like inches from you.” 

I pushed my perpetually tangled blonde hair back from my face and smiled at her apologetically. Still holding my arm she quickened her pace, dragging me behind her. Bree’s long dark hair hung in loose carefully constructed curls, and her eye make up was dark and dramatic. The sequins of her short red skirt glittered in the moonlight as she moved. Her black pea coat was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. 

I skipped forward and grabbed both of her gloved hands and twirled, my head tossed back towards the sky. The dangling beads on my dress tinkered a pretty disjointed melody, a song for my dance. My breath was visible, mixing with Bree’s while I pulled her around with me. She struggled to keep her annoyed expression, but after a few spins she gave up with a laugh.

“It’s too cold not to dance!” I said in a goofy singsong voice. I was elated, giddy from the chill of the wind and the promise of new experiences. She broke free, unsteady in her pumps.

“There will be time for dancing later. We’re going to be late!” She called behind her, already on the move. I trotted after her, thankful for my lack of interest in fashion and my solid lace up boots. Every step she took looked painful.

The rows of houses turned into streetlights as we neared downtown and the old bridge that was our designated meeting place. Ever since we were children it had been our hideaway; built over the dried up bed of a creek in the middle of a park, the ominous archway of stone and brick was full of promise for an active imagination. One summer when I was about eight years old, I became convinced that the bridge was the same as one in a book of fairytales I had borrowed from the local library, and had gone there every day looking for the troll who was pictured living beneath. Everyone knew that the toll to cross a troll’s bridge was a secret, so I decided that I would capture the troll and get some answers. I was convinced that he would have information about my mother, who had left me with my father when I was only an infant.

Bree was the only one who hadn’t laughed at my plan. We were both misfits from families with bad reputations. Her father was constantly in and out of jail, and my father was the town drunk. Her father was known for leaving bruises on her and her mother, while mine was known for telling elaborate and fantastical lies. People whispered about our families. It was as if they thought children couldn’t hear, that we didn’t know what they were saying.

She had listened to my plot with wide-eyed delight and questions of her own. We didn’t share what we wanted to ask him; although the better we got to know each other, the easier it became to guess. To our disappointment summer passed without a glimpse of his ugly face. We grew up, abandoning childish notions that every question had an answer that could be found bound beneath the cover of a book. Even so, every time I returned to the bridge I pictured the old troll standing beneath the faded brick, his lewd green features twisted in a gnarled grin.

We deviated from the sidewalk and down into the bed of patchy snow and mud.  Choosing to stick to patches of rough grass, I linked arms with Bree to help her keep balance. A beam of light from a flashlight cut briefly through the darkness, and we could hear laughter echoing from inside the brick walls, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

“Bree! Shea!” Gushed Ally in a high-pitched excited voice.

She was dressed in a bubblegum pink dress with a plunging neckline and shimmery heels. She shuffle-ran over and pulled us into a tight and awkward hug. I patted her back, willing her to let go of me. Bree returned her excitement, a stream of compliments for Ally’s hair and clothes flowing from her lips as we detangled ourselves. A small, short haired girl stood leaning against a sloped wall, the lit red tip of her cigarette emitting a dull glow; Anna. Across from her a group of three boys were messing around with an old rubber flashlight. The tallest, Jimmy, took a pull from a bottle of spiced rum. Beside Jimmy Tyler clicked the flashlight on and off at the others, laughing mischievously. Gawky Dillon was crouched down drawing designs in the mud with a stick.

I walked over to stand beside Anna, angling so as to avoid inhaling as much smoke as possible. Dillon tried to trip me with his stick as I passed him, flashing me a grin. I rolled my eyes at him and stuck out my tongue.

“Better luck next time, Pickle.”

“Such an outdated nickname… I expected something a little more inspired from you.”

“That would imply that you’re inspirational.”

“Aren’t I?” He countered, striking a goofy pose.

Dillon had been my neighbor and playmate since I was a child, and he hadn’t changed at all in the years I’d known him. He was still the goofy curly haired boy from next door, only now he was a few inches taller.

“No.” Anna retorted coldly, and I laughed. Her responses were always perfectly deadpan, a stark contrast from her sweet round features.

“Let’s go, let’s go, it’s concert time bitches!” Shouted Ally, waving a sloshing bottle of tequila above her head triumphantly.

Jimmy passed me the half full bottle of rum, and I took a pull. The liquid burned as it made it’s way down my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. I took another swig before passing it to Anna, who gulped it down like water. Warmth began to spread through my body, and my fingertips tingled. I giggled.

“Let’s do it!” I bellowed, pumping a fist in the air. Tyler whooped and started going around the group for high fives.

“Should someone cut him off?” Asked Anna with distaste, wiping her hand on her jeans after reluctantly allowing Tyler to shake it. Jimmy shrugged. “He can make his own decisions.”

Jimmy mussed his short brown hair, revealing a hint of the watercolor tattoo on his collarbone. His easygoing attitude paired with his good looks made him extremely popular, and I wondered again why he wasted his time hanging out with us; we were a ragtag clash of strong personalities bound solely by the fact that we’d grown up together, and I often contemplated how long it would be before that bond began to fray, freeing us to go our separate ways. The thought didn’t make me sad. Instead, I was indifferent to the suggestion. We had come together by over time, and over time we would part. That’s life. People leave.

We climbed the hill back towards the sidewalk, Tyler howling with laughter each time he stumbled and slid backwards down the slippery slope. Dillon grabbed his elbow to steady him and pulled him up after the rest of us. As we neared the venue we began to hear the music. Faint at first, then louder and louder, a steady rhythm of uneven beats surrounded us, drawing us forward into the pulsating swell of sound. The club was packed with sweaty bodies moving clumsily, beautifully. I moved my body along with them, feeling more alive than I had in weeks.

Dancing is as personal as a signature, a window into a person’s being. Jimmy swayed with the beat gracefully, his eyes hooded and his pouty lips mouthing the words to the song, while Ally was everywhere at once, brimming with energy and moves she’d seen in music videos. Anna hardly moved at all while Tyler flailed, and Bree’s movements were tastefully subdued. Dillon bobbed up and down, shoving me gently. I smiled, following the ebb and flow effortlessly as I pushed deeper into the center of the dancing crowd, leaving my friends behind me. Surrounded by strangers I allowed the music to absorb me.

I don’t know how long I danced before I noticed that the song had slowed, distorting the melody. An ominous feeling sent goose bumps prickling up my arms and a shiver down my spine. The crowd around me was moving sluggishly, as if in slow motion, their eyes staring vacantly towards the stage. A gust of piercing wind swept across the dance floor, and I looked around with confusion and fear. None of the people around me took notice. It was as if they were on a different plain, as if they couldn’t see me at all.

I ran my fingers over the silver bangle that dangled from my right wrist nervously, tracing the etchings on the tiny linked circles. I looked around the room, my eyes coming to rest on girl in all white. Her hair was wild and grey, and the pallor of her skin was slightly off, wasted with a tint of ghastly blue. Her features were emaciated, her cheeks concaved and her lips thin and cracked. However, her most striking feature was her eyes. Deep set and sunken, they were lifeless and black as coal. They had no whites and no distinct pupils, yet somehow I knew that they were focused on me. I watched as she began to lift her hand from her side, her shape shifting and twisting as she aged right before my eyes. When her finger came to a point she had become an old woman, hunched and wrinkled now but with the same haunting features. Her bony finger pointed directly at me, she opened her mouth so wide it was as if she had unhinged her jaw, revealing a black gaping hole that released a shattering scream.

Drawn from my stupor, I covered my ears and fell to my knees. The sound was louder than any I’d ever heard, and pain lanced through my skull as direct and throbbing as a kick to the temple. A feeling of helplessness began to well up inside of me. Dark whispers joined her scream, clashing together chaotically in my brain. I pictured my brother lying alone in a hospital room. Guilt. I saw myself walk past my stepmother Miranda’s room without pausing at the muffled crying coming from inside. Distain. The twisted feelings of love and loathing I felt every time I saw my father.  Then terror. I saw my hands covered in blood. As abruptly as it began the screeching ceased, replaced by the upbeat tempo of a song. Bodies began moving around me, bouncing forward and knocking me off my knees onto ground.

A girl with short spiky bleached hair looked down at me in concern.

“Hey, you alright?”

I nodded, barely able to hear her over the ringing in my ears. The lights of the stage had become nauseating instead of alluring, and the bitter smell of sweat and the heat of bodies now claustrophobic. My stomach was churning, bile creeping up the back of my throat.

“I’m fine, I just…” I muttered, but I never finished my sentence, instead pushing past her through the mass of people and towards the door. I heaved, stumbling out onto the back patio and into a welcoming blast of cold wind. I crouched down against the shingled wall and put my head beneath my knees. I was trembling uncontrollably, drenched in a cold sweat. I rubbed my arms in an attempt to calm myself down. It was cold, but at least I could breath out here. A dog howled in the distance. I ran my fingers through my hair as I struggled to control my emotions.

What had just happened? Already the girl’s form was fading from my memory, like I was just waking up after a strange and illusive dream. I struggled to hold on to the image. A voice buried deep within me insisted that what had happened was significant, but the recollection slipped through the cracks of my memory, leaving me only with the pain in my head and a mess of emotions. I tensed, trying to pull it back, but it was gone.  With a sour taste in my mouth I lifted my head.  Through the holes of the wooden railing at the edge of the patio I could see the river that ran along the edge town and the wavering reflection of the moon that was cast upon the slowly flowing water. Against my back the wall hummed with the beat of the muffled song playing inside. All I knew was that I wanted to go home, to the comfort of my bed and my family. The bouncing rhythm no longer stirred up in me the aching desire to dance.

I walked back inside and along the edge of the bobbing crowd. The concert was still in full swing, the singer’s ragged voice pulling the crowd closer and closer to the stage. For the first time I really looked at the band. The lead singer’s eyes were closed as he pulled the microphone to his lips, cradling it tenderly in his hands. The drummer was a flurry of shaggy hair and cut off sleeves, while the guitarist played stoically in the corner. Cords connected them to the amps that filled the room with their insistent noise. I scanned for familiar faces as I stood at the outskirts of the crowd. Someone tapped my shoulder, and I jumped nervously.

Jimmy seemed amused by my reaction at first, but he quickly became serious as he studied my expression. He was flushed and shiny with sweat from dancing, his coat slung over one arm and the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to just below his elbows. He was vibrant in that moment, the sight of him chasing away the darkness that was lurking at the edge of my mind. He put his hands on my shoulders, and their heat radiated through my thick cotton coat and continuing throughout my whole body.

“You’re freezing! Did you go outside?” He asked, shouting over the music.

I nodded, and tried to smile.

“I’m not feeling so well! I was trying to find you guys to tell you that I’m going home!”

He rubbed his spikey hair and looked at me with concern. I shivered, the chills returning once he removed his hands, settling deep in my bones. I craved his warmth. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them from reaching out to touch him and looked down at the floor. The scuffed wood was littered with wrappers and garbage.

“Let me walk you home. I’ll run over and let the others know if you’ll wait for me here for just a second!”

“You should stay, have fun! I’ll be fine!” I protested weakly.

“I couldn’t let you walk home alone! It’s fine, I don’t like this band anyway.”

“Then why did you come?”

He didn’t answer, instead holding up a finger and jogging off into the mass of bodies. I kicked a wadded up piece of paper near my feet, watching as it connected with the rounded black toe of my boot and tumbled across the floor before being crushed beneath a blue and grey sneaker. I was glad he was going to walk with me. I didn’t want to be alone right now. I was jumpy and unable to shake an uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen.

It was a long walk back to my house. Once we had left the club I remembered that I had left my car and keys at Bree’s, where her mother was soundly sleeping. The quiet of the empty streets was oppressive. He handed me his coat without a word, and shivering with cold I accepted and pulled it over my shoulders. A couple times I caught him looking down at me, only to quickly look away when our eyes met. We left the streetlights behind us as we weaved our way through familiar neighborhoods and towards home. It was too cold for him to only be wearing a flannel shirt, so after a while I shrugged off his coat and held it out to him. He frowned.

“Keep it on.”

“I have a coat, I’ll be fine. You’re the one who’s going to catch hypothermia before we even make it to my house.”

I edged closer to him, suddenly feeling bold. He was radiating warmth, and I couldn’t shake the cold that chilled me to my core, feverish and unabated. He put his arm around me, and I found immediate relief. Now he looked down at me curiously, and didn’t look away when I raised my eyes to meet his. I had never noticed the kindness in his face before. It was etched into every line, every expression. He lowered his face to mine and kissed me. His lips tasted like summer dew, like sunflowers and wild strawberries. I felt something begin to change, something flowing through my body. I parted my lips to accept it. The cold that had plagued me began to retreat as our lips moved awkwardly together, learning each other’s rhythm as I stole from him.

I pulled away, his arms lingering around my waist. The wrist where my bracelet dangled began to burn and itch, and I moved a hand from his chest to scratch it. I could feel the flush in my cheeks. Despite the cold, I no longer felt the ache that had settled deep in my bones from… Where had it come from? I frowned, suddenly confused. Something taunted me at the edge of my memory, something I didn’t really want to remember. I knew it was frightening. Jimmy looked down at me with a small smile. His face was pale, and he had bags under his eyes I hadn’t noticed before. I pulled away and looked at him closely. Something felt wrong. He no longer radiated anything, instead looking wan and tired. He took my hand and kept it the rest of the way to my house. He seemed happy, so I hid my confusion. I didn’t want to worry him. My thoughts returned to the feeling I’d had when he kissed me. I’d never felt that way before, but I didn’t think it was love. I resolved to call Bree in the morning and confess everything.

My family’s small cheery white-shingled house looked like it belonged in a neighborhood that had block parties every summer and was swarming with children year round, instead of at the edge of town, two miles from our closest neighbor. My father had enclosed the yard with a wrought iron fence when I was little, but the once white paint he had covered it with had begun to peel, revealing the grey underneath and making it look diseased. Behind the house loomed a line of trees where the woods that surrounded the river began.  Blanketed in darkness, the house’s surroundings looked sinister.

I pushed the gate open slowly, careful to prevent as much of the rusted squeaking as possible. I turned to face Jimmy, ringing my hands. He leaned down and kissed me again, but this time only briefly. Without another word he turned and walked away. I creaked the gate closed behind me, watching until his form had disappeared into the night.

I stepped off the rock path that led to the front porch, instead veering to the left and over to the side of the house. My destination was a bay window that protruded slightly into the yard. I wedged my foot up onto the bottom of the sturdy wooden frame and lifted my hands to grip the inches of rim that bordered the pane. After hoisting myself up unsteadily, I freed one had to grab onto the emergency ladder that I had secured to the gutter. The metal rungs were cold and my fingers ached as I pulled myself up onto the slanted surface of the roof. Unhooking the ladder I wrapped it up as quietly as I could and crawled up to the flat top of the sectioned roof, tiptoeing over to my lit window. A canine head was resting on the sill, his luminous golden eyes watching me reproachfully. His tail started wagging as I slid the window open and slipped inside, rolling onto the bed.

Lyall nuzzled my face affectionately, planting a slobbery kiss that warmed the clammy skin of my cheek. I smiled and curled up on my side to face him. Ly was not exactly an average dog. He had the appearance of a large wolf with a thick coat that was a unique blend of dark grey and chestnut fur. He was huge, almost five feet tall and still growing after sixteen years, puzzling the local vet. He was always in perfect health, and demonstrated no signs of old age. When I was six months old my mother appeared on my father’s doorstep with a baby, a puppy, and a bracelet, and left before the sun had even finished setting.

The story of my mother had been my favorite bedtime story as a child, and I had begged my father to tell it almost every night. He had gone for a walk in the copses behind our house one night, and found a beautiful woman dancing among the trees. He said her hair unfurled around her face like a halo, and that her green eyes reflected woodland around her. He immediately fell in love with her. They stayed together beneath the moon that night, until he fell asleep and she disappeared. He didn’t hear from her again for over a year, until one day she returned with me in her arms and Ly on her heels. He said she had seemed afraid, like she was in trouble.  She refused to tell him my name, instead telling him to give me a new one, and with it a new beginning. After the story we would lie in my bed and make up the story of her life. She was a spy, a fairy, a princess, or an angel. Her story changed nightly, and long after he kissed me good night I would lay staring at the ceiling imagining all the amazing things she must be out there achieving.

I kicked off my boots and pulled my dress off over my head. Yanking my downy duvet from beneath Ly’s massive body, I thought of her again. I no longer imagined her with the blinders of childish awe and wonder. Instead, I felt her warm arms pushing loose strands of hair from my face and holding me close, and I hated myself. I hated my weakness, my hope. It was as if I reverted to the disappointments of youthful disillusionment every time I remembered that this would never happen. I wore her bracelet as a token of reality. A reminder that she wasn’t coming home, that she had left us without a second glance, without even a name.

I closed my heavy eyelids, succumbing to sleep's relief.