Not Really Dead - 3/2

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RE: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby may9thsisters » Mon Jul 19, 2010 9:39 am

Sasha meandered through the streets, on her way home from working. The florist in town had always been such a wonderful place for her to work. She’d always loved it, always grown dizzy and content at the smell of lilies and roses before she arranged them into a bouquet. She always thought to herself, who was the lucky individual to receive something so beautiful? Were they a loved one? Were they a stranger who someone met and fell for in a single moment?
But today was a bit different at the florist. It was one week since she had buried my best friend, Sam. She’d known him for at least ten years, had been inseparable since they graduated high school, went to college together and moved to the same town where we opened our own businesses. Sasha had opened a florist shop and he opened a restaurant right next door. She had to put together all of his funeral arrangements, which was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But a week later, she returned to work and every moment she put a rose in a vase, or cut the stem of a carnation, she felt his presence hovering around her. She still couldn’t believe he was dead.
When she got home, she threw her bags on the table and went upstairs to lie down. She wanted to sleep forever. And hopefully, maybe somewhere between sleeping and being awake, she would forget him. Forget he ever lived so she didn’t have to live without him. All that time, she should have told him….
She spotted an envelope on her pillow out of the corner of her eye.
How did someone get into my home? She thought.
She recognized the handwriting right away. It was Sam’s…
There was no way that was possible. She tore the envelope open and read the scribbled handwriting that belonged to Sam:
I’m not dead. I’m sorry I lied to you. Meet me at Guido’s Pizzeria tonight after midnight. Tell no one.
Her heart stopped. It wasn’t possible. There was no way…
But if it were true, then she’d be reunited with Sam forever…
She looked at the time. It was already nine PM. If she just napped like she wanted to and woke up before midnight, then she could make it back to Guido’s in time.
She popped a sleeping pill, knowing that there was just no way that she was going to sleep with all of this running through her mind. Why would Sam have faked his death?
It just didn’t make sense. After a few moments, she laid down and let the coma of the sleeping pill pull her under into a dreamless sleep where nothing and no one could touch her.
It was just after midnight and Sasha was standing in front of Guido’s Pizzeria. Her heart was trembling and flipping through her stomach. She wanted to see him again, she wanted to tell him…that she had always been in love with him.
And suddenly there he was.
“Sasha,” He said, whispering into her ear as he pulled her deeply into a bear hug, “I’m so sorry, and I don’t have much time. Come with me.”
He pulled her through the streets, quietly, attracting no attention at all to anyone.
A moment later they she was being pushed into a red Ferrari and they were making their way out of the small town that she had believed was always home.
“What’s going on, Sam? Why aren’t you dead?” Sasha asked him angrily.
To see him now, after believing he was dead was almost more than she could bear.
Sam sighed and said, “I have a lot to explain to you, Sasha. Unfortunately, there are many truths I must tell you first.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we graduated from high school, a group of men approached me. It was the day of graduation, before I went back to your house for the party. They offered me a job, but there was a great amount I was going to have to sacrifice. They promised me millions of dollars, and I eagerly agreed.
“But there were some conditions. One, I could tell no one, ever. I was to die before anyone ever found out. Second, I had to pretend to live a normal life. But third, I was never allowed to get married or start a family for doing so would jeopardize the situation. Sasha, I’ve been in love with you since I met you. I didn’t realize by agreeing then, what I’ve had to give up all these years.”
Sasha felt her heart fluttering. She’d always known they were meant to be together, but she had always believed that maybe he really did just want to stay friends. Sam had never dated anyone else, had never even looked at anyone else. Their whole life together was starting to make sense.
“I agreed to the job and that summer, while I was away at summer camp, I was really training in a top secret government facility in Alaska. Sasha, I’m a government assassin. I go after and kill criminals, terrorists and corrupt diplomats. I’ve murdered hundreds of individuals making them look like suicides or crimes of passion, and never getting caught. Until my last mission, when I went to Cairo.
“I told you I was hiking, and that I fell and got all of those cuts, scars, and bruises from a fall. But the truth is that after months of tracking him down, I had finally discovered the location of the man responsible for bombing those school children in D.C. last year. I did everything as I was supposed to and was caught by terrorists. They tortured me for days, but I never revealed my secrets. After a few days, I managed to escape, barely and within a breath of my life.
“When I returned home, they pulled me in right away, saying I compromised the mission. I’d have to fake my death, and return to finish the mission. But the location has probably moved by now and it would take me months to track him down again. And then I realized one thing I would be leaving behind by going across the world after faking a death. I’d be leaving behind you, Sasha, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t bear to not be with you the way we should always have been together.
“So now I have a chance, and I’m making you an offer. I’m refusing to cooperate in this mission. But by doing so, I’m giving up the chance at a normal life. I’m going to have to run, and run forever. It’s up to you to follow me, to come with me. If you don’t they’re going to kill you. If you stay here, they will kill you to get to me. So please, Sasha, come with me. I love you, marry me and we’ll run away. I have enough money hidden to keep us comfortable for the rest of our lives, and I promise, if you’re with me, I can keep you safe.”
Sasha’s eyes were brimming with tears. Here was the one chance, to be with Sam forever.
“Yes, I’ll go with you. I love you.”

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RE: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby mammamia1803 » Sat Sep 25, 2010 1:29 pm

I held the note between my thumb and forefinger, reading the script handwriting over and over againg until my vision went blurry and my mind went numb. I wasn't entirely sure what exactly it meant, so I set it on the coffee table and grabbed the T.V. remote.

All of a sudden, an overwhelming wave of realization swept over me as I flipped the channel from Friends to Seinfeld.

"Gabby," I whispered to myself, my lips barely moving. I turned the television off and began to chatter to myself, no one else in the house (I was single; I had no kids and was actually secretly desperate for love). "Her funeral was only last week. Whatever the meaning of this postcard, it can't be good...."

I fetched the postcard from the table and turned it over. The address matched Gabriella's.

"Is she really...?" I gulped, not wanting to speak the truth even to myself. I felt like I was living in a big, cheesy sci-fi thriller movie. I grabbed my trench coat and whisked out the door.


I didn't even bother to get in my car; I made a mad dash for Guido's Pizzeria on foot. Originally, I was set for Gabby's, but remembering the postcard, I followed her instructions instead.

It took me a while to get there, and when I opened the door to the eatery, my mind was too numb to be cautious. It wasn't even my brain guiding me there; it was my heart and soul.

"Ma'am, may I help you?" the hostess said nervously, minding my flushed face and dilated eyes.

"No," I gasped, "I'm meeting someone."

As I rounded the corner of the pizzeria searching for any sign of Gabby, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. I would've screamed if another hand hadn't kept my lower jaw locked against my upper one. A voice breathed in my ear.

"You Lilith Montenegro?" the man snarled. I made the best attempt I could to nod my head.

"I'm David, Gabriella's ex-husband," he said with a glare (not that I could tell; the man was wearing sunglasses). He replenished his grip on me. "I mourn her loss greatly."

I was confused.

"Well, I'm not surprised," I began carefully, "she's a lovely lady, and you loved her once anyways, right?"

"I still do," he sighed, probably teary, "and you remind me of her. When we were still married, she told me stories of you. I needed to see you. Really bad."

"That's flattering, but I've got to be somewhere soon."

"No, you don't. You came to see your old friend, now deceased."

I could've sworn he would've kissed me if I hadn't made a break for it.


I signaled a taxi cab and told him to step on it, now. I wanted to get home, away from David. I doubted I would sleep much that night, but the important thing was to get inside and lock the doors. Something about him unnerved me.

Actually, there wasn't a sign of David for a while. I felt secure (yet my mourn or Gabby never ended), and after the first month or two, I forgot about him.

Until he came to my doorstep, dressed as a solicitor.

"David!" I shrieked when I peered through the eyehole mounted to my apartment door. He had a gun, and was after me.

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RE: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby Love2_Write » Sat Nov 27, 2010 12:05 pm

It's not everyday that you get a postcard from your supposedly dead best friend.

And a message like this! "I'm not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido's Pizzeria. Tell no one." A few statements like that only fueled my need for knoweledge. Now, Lola Jones, my best friend, had known me since the age of three. And since then, she'd been one of my closet acquaintances. Lola was twenty, full of life, and wonderfully charming. Her sarcastic humor which I missed so much came in handy in the high school courtyard, and in college, she shared a dorm with me and guided me through the many wonders of sky diving. Thus, she knew everything about me. Lola also knew I couldn't stand not knowing something. So was it such a crime to pay a visit to her house and try and figure out this mystery?

It never occured to me that this was all a joke. But by the time I got out of bed, showered, changed, and slipped into my car, it was too late. My mind was set on finding out what was going on, so I shifted my silver BMW into gear and shot out of my garage.

A vibrating sensation shot through my waist. It wasn't long before I figured out that my Motorola was buzzing with a new text, buzzing in my new skinny jeans. My toes squirmed in my Ugg boots, a nervous habit of mine. It took all of my willpower to ignore the text, flick on my turning signal, and make the left that had led me to Lola's house so many times.

The house looked abandoned. Tears began to fill my green eyes as I remembered all the memories that went along with the now dead grass, the white staircase which I knew was only a few feet away from me. Finally, I parked my car sloppily against the sidewalk, took a deep breath, and ended the merciless screaming of a kids' band as I shut off the radio and exited my comfy car.

Instantly, cool air hit my face. I shifted in my lavender sweater, fighting the urge to turn and run. "Wimp," cackled the wind, and I shivered, yanking open my car door as I stepped on the gas and drove away, overcome with fear.


Hours later, I was sitting at Lola's favorite pizza place, Guido's Pizzeria, mindlessly sipping a diet coke. I decided to check the text that I had ignored earlier on.

"Stay away from my house, Jennifer. I don't want you to get hurt. He'll hunt you if you even dare park your car beside my front yard. He'll kill you, like he tried to kill me."

What a text.

"Jen," a low growl made me jump. Those wide brown eyes widened further as she sat across from me, in the booth seat. She tugged her short black hair out of the bun she'd put it in, and allowed her hands to dance along her caramel skin as she traced a tattoo on her cheek. Never had I seen such a short red dress paired with such long black pumps, but Lola's fashion was unforgettable.

"Lola." I choked up, unable to speak anymore. "You--you--" I paused, gasping for air. My red ringlets were undoubtedly frizzy, but yet she smiled up at them and then used her free hand to touch my ivory skin.

Her smile revealed blindingly white teeth. "You look wonderful, 'hun. Listen, I'm going to make this fast--I came here to kill you, sooo, let's get to it, shall we?" I almost didn't believe her, but then Lola pulled out a little black handgun. It looked like a toy, but her chilling smile told me it wasn't.

I was only able to whimper like a puppy. "I thought you were my friend."

"That's okay," Lola replied. She said it like a reflex, and then whispered, "Don't move, friend. This'll be quick. And by the way, never trust a friend who tells you to meet her at an almost always empty pizzeria after dark." I opened my mouth to scream, but it was too late--she pulled the trigger.

One, Two, Three, Four. I screamed, groaning and writhing as I tried to reach my phone. She held it up proudly, shot everybody surrounding us as fast as she could, and then slid out of the back entrance, sniggering all the while.

Some BFF.


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RE: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby mjbin » Sat Dec 11, 2010 5:48 pm

The street glowed orange as the sun slipped below its horizon. The world was warm, windows reflecting portraits of the autumnal world around them. It was nice to get lost in thoughts of the mundane after all the exhaustion. Convincing himself that everything wouldn’t be as empty as the apartment once Alex finally died.

And that letter. Ridiculous letter.

He didn’t know why he’d come at all, why he’d listened. Guido’s had been boarded up years ago. Forgotten like their past. And Alex was most certainly dead. He’d watched his best friend wither away between the hospital sheets. Seen him smile and then fade. Sunken eyed and solemn faced, morbid parody of his living self.

But Jude had come. On a dead man’s orders: silent and punctual. And he waited. Outside the skeleton structure of this place that had once housed their high school lives. After school dramas and weekend plans were wedged between the layers of dust and crumbling walls.

Maybe he hoped he was wrong.

Alex had lied to them all, paid off a pretty nurse and run away. Found a duplicate for them to mourn and freedom for himself. Maybe, he’d worked it all out. And now he’d come back to take to Jude with him. Because that’s what Alex always did, made messes and then found a way out. Jude deserved his escape from this mess too. He couldn’t handle not having that either.

“Hey”, and the voice is like a ghost from the past. He turns.

“Vera?” Not the ghost he was expecting.

She smiles that smile that never reached her eyes. Guess some things hadn’t changed.

“So he sent you one too?” she asks, holding up the creased postcard, Alex’s shaky handwriting scrawled across the back.

“You two still talked?” it was the only thought he could form.

“You were angry at me, last I remember it. Alex and I had no reason to stop being friends.”

And there is disparity now. Alex was the only trustworthy friend he’d had after everything had fallen through. Alex had been on his side, and now…there was a chasm between them too. No one was his.

She reaches out her hand, “You can always build a bridge back to the places you left behind, y’know. You don’t have to be alone, Jude. You never did.”

Six years and still she could read the thoughts underneath his expressions. Six years of burying past mistakes and Alex had dug it all up. Displaced the memories with his body beneath the dirt. A way back, a way out.

So Alex had lied. And maybe he wasn’t dead after all. His body was tucked beneath the soil but Alex was right here.

Eighteen and laughing with them, long ago when the wooden boards were window panes and the open sign flickered neon red. He was bundled into a hundred different stories: afterschool dramas and weekend plans. A past cleared of its cobwebs by a ghost.

He takes Vera’s hand, one piece of his past won back. The first piece to a jigsaw life he’d put back in order with Alex to hold it together.

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RE: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby thewritersblock » Mon Dec 27, 2010 2:31 pm

"Jonah was a good friend. I would take a bullet for him any day." My strangled voice echoed throughout the Mortuary. I glanced around. Many people were sobbing quietly. Others were staring solemnly at the casket. "And may he rest eternally in peace."
I descended down the podium and walked down to the third pew. Shaking, I sat down. Jonah, a good friend of mines, had recently got shot by a murderer a two week ago when I was on vacation. When I heard about it, I got on the airplane as fast as I could and flew back to my hometown. As another person began their own death speech about Jonah, I dejectedly dug my hands into my black trench coat. Oddly enough, there was something blocking my hand. I looked around the funeral and then pulled out a postcard. Surprised, I quickly shoved it back in the pocket. How did that get in here?
I raised my hand.
"Yes, ma'am?" The minister slowly lowered his spectacles and raised his eyebrow. Several people turned around to look at me.
"May I be excused?" I asked.
The minister raised another eyebrow before saying "yes". I grabbed my purse and headed for the exit. As soon as I was outside of the funeral, I took out the postcard and examined it.
It was a vintage illustrated picture of the San Francisco Golden Gate bridge during sunset. Cursive bubble letters spelled out "Golden Gate Bridge". I turned the postcard around. There, in small scrawly handwriting, were words strung together as a sentence. Three sentences, actually. "I'm not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido's Pizzeria. Tell no one."
I looked closely at the postcard, even though I knew clearly well I didn't misread that. Guido's Pizzeria? Not dead? Was this a joke?
I parked my car in the nearly vacant parking lot of Guido's. The neon fluorescent lights spelling out "Guido's Pizzeria" perched on top of the restaurant blinking on and off. I hope that I was doing the right thing.
I entered and the warm aroma of baking pizza overwhelmed me. I ordered one slice of pepperoni pizza and waited. The waitress slid a small slice of hot, fresh pizza on my plate. A million questions flew around in my brain, unanswered. What if this was really just a big joke? What if Jonah really arrived? How many people knew about this? I checked my watch. 6: 56. Almost time for dinner. My pizza, untouched, was getting cold. 7:00 No way. Jonah, or whoever sent me that postcard, had stood me up. I paid the waitress and just as soon as I was about to leave, I heard someone call out my name.
I spun around and saw no one. Maybe my imagination was running too much. I pushed open the door and then heard my name being called again. I spun around once again and then saw him.
Jonah. Yup, that was really him. He had a navy blue baseball cap on but I saw his trademark short cropped hair sticking out from under it. Freckles from staying out in the sun dotted his face. The burden in my stomach instantly lifted.
"Jonah!" I cried.
Jonah placed his finger on the tip of his lips.
"Shut up, they'll hear you," he hissed.
I walked towards him and slid in the booth across from him.
"Well, that's a nice greeting for someone who had to been put through a week of spending time in a Mortuary!" I snapped back.
"Sorry, but no sorries. I have to confess to you quickly before they track me down," Jonah leaned closer.
"Well, what's going on?" I asked.
"I'm thinking of turning over a new leaf. Changing identities. Move on." Jonah paused before continuing. "My boss, he's too hard on me."
"So, why don't you just quit?!" I cried.
"It's not just my boss! My mom, she keeps on trying to make me go to Medical School! And my dad, he won't stop ranting about my girlfriend!"
"Okay Jonah, you're overreacting. Just quit your job, and find a new job. Tell your mom you already have plans for another kind of college. And your dad? He's flat-out right." I chuckled and saw Jonah roll his eyes.
"It's not funny! There's something more important," Jonah looked seriously grim now. "I killed someone. I'm a murderer. I killed Chase Bradley. During the Winter Dance Prom. Remember? Our local newspapers did a story on that murder. I killed him and the police labeled me as one of the culprits of the murder. So I faked my death. I had to throw them off my track. No I have to start a new life. I-I have to go. This isn't safe anymore." Jonah shook his head and stood up. "See you next time."
"Jonah. Stop. First of all, if the police find out that you're not really dead, they could really arrest you. Faking a death is illegal. And second, why would you kill Chase Bradley? Why?" My breath was almost gone.
"It was an accident. My other friend, Gary, he handed me a gun on a dare shoot the Winter Prom banner. He...he told me that there were no bullets. I shouldn't have believed him. I shot and I missed. It killed Chase. His prom date, Chelsea, dialed 911. The police instantly arrived on the scene and I fled. But I left the gun behind. How stupid of me." Jonah smacked his forehead. "Anyway, I have to go."
Jonah took of his cap and brushed his hair before tapping my postcard. "See ya."
I sat there, shocked, as Jonah left the restaurant. My friend, a murderer? I looked at the postcard. San Francisco. Then it clicked in my head. San Francisco. That was his next destination.

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RE: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby Candace_G21 » Tue Dec 28, 2010 6:31 pm

i watched as his casket was lowered into the ground, soon buried with it was every ounce of love and goodness i had left in me. antonio had not just been my lover, but my best friend and confidante. i was attending his funeral with a stone face; as no one knew of this. i watched as his girlfriend wimpers behind handfuls of tissues, surrounded by his and her family. i had vowed with every ounce of my being that i would never show my true emotions; only what those expected of me. the rest of the week was all a blur... i go through the motions of life, and not a single person around me knows anything.. don't see a change in me at all. don't notice how my eyes have sunk into my skull from not sleping for days, can't recognize the ghosts that haunt me in my own mind. how i would give anything to be in his warm embrace again... how i would give anything to be the only girl in his life... HOW I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING for him to be accepted into my life just like he belongs there... i was lost in my thoughts, but was soon snapped back to reality by my mothers impatient fingers. "mail call!" she shouts at me. strange... im not one to get mail. theres a letter.... with some familiar heavy, all capital writing.... i was not sure if my heart had stopped, or if it was beating so fast that it was making my whole body quake. i tore into the envelope with nervous, shaking hands, almost tearing the letter in two. it simply read:
" im not dead. meet me at the place we first went out tonight at midnight. i will explain everything.
i drove so nervously that night, terrified i wouldnt get there on time.. i pulled up behind the place in the back parking lot, and grabbed my purse expecting to meet him inside. as soon as exited my car i was grabbed so swiftly it took my breath away. and i turned around, expecting something dreadful and thinking i was about to be hurt or worse... but i see those dark eyes like endless drowning pools, and those arms that have held me so tightly together when i was in danger of falling to pieces... and i give that ****er a good slap across the face.
"how could you do that to me?? its bad enough no one even knows about you, and i had to hide everything!" at this point the tears were already streaming down my face. he wrapped me up and said
"baby, i did it for you. i can't stand that you aren't the most important person in my life... i know i ****ed all this up, but now im fixing it. i love you.'

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Re: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby Trissa » Fri Dec 31, 2010 12:53 pm

It was the right day for a funeral. The October sky had a leaden cast to it. A light breeze rattled the leaves of ancient oaks like a thousand dry bones. They swirled at my feet as I stood at the back of Stan Drew's funeral. It was easy for me to get lost in the crowd. People from miles away attended. I saw an ex-governor, a sitting Senator, and bankers. Oh, yes, all the vultures were there to help bury the man who had been their financial support for more than a decade. Stan's wife was right up front, her plastic face covered by a wisp of black lace. She didn't shed a tear. Her face wouldn't permit it.

That was why Stan loved me. He said I was real and good for him. He hated his life. Now he was dead. I left the service before it was over. I couldn't stand to watch them lower him into the ground.

It took everything for me to regain my sense of equilibrium. Life was tough without my "compass". That's why I was so shocked to receive word from Stan just one week after his funeral. "Meet me at Guido's" was all the note said. Our favorite hideaway. I remembered the booth in the back, in the corner, in the dark. But I couldn't show up. It had to be a joke and a painful one at that. Maybe a trap set by his "loving wife. So I went on with my life.

It was one year later I decided to go on a trip. Somewhere that I could refresh myself and my spirit. I decided on trip to a ranch in Montana. I loved horses and the brochure for the ranch made it sound like this side of heaven. When I arrived, the owner of Mon Montana Mansion showed us "green horns" around. As we passed one of the bunk houses, I noticed one the hands giving me the eye. I thought nothing of it at first, but as the days went by, I noticed something strange about him. One day I wandered by the bunk house headed to the stables when...

"Pssst, Clare!" I whirled around to find the hired hand within inches of my face. I stepped back but not after I really looked at his eyes.

"Stan? My God, you ARE alive!" He caught me before I collapsed.

"Let's take a ride," he said. "We need to talk."
As we rode on Stan told me how he was now Irv White. He knew his wife was a gold-digger but there was no pre-nup. His only way out was to "die". But not until he finagled his finances. He created a dummy account for Irv White. And when the time was right, he arranged for his "death". He paid off his doctor to come up with a deceased John Doe who was close enough to Stan. They faked a car accident and...the rest was history.

By this time, Stan/Irv also told me how he made me beneficiary of everything he had. He now wanted me to stay at the ranch with him in Montana. We got off the horses to look at the view of the mountain range. Stan/Irv turned to me and grabbed me roughly for a kiss. And I... Well, I gave him a hearty push over the cliff.

The local sheriff there called it "self defense". That hired hand shouldn't have laid his hands on me like that. I was lucky to get away with my life. And now, thanks to Irv White, I am now on vacation on the Riviera. Life is good again.

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RE: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby Hannah-Lynn » Mon Jan 03, 2011 4:26 pm

I stared down at my hands, unblinking. That little silver band with a Celtic design itched across it was mesmerizing and I couldn't help but twist it over and over and over again. It was all I had left of him. His parents had taken everything from his dorm back home with them and I'd barely given him his box of stuff back that he'd left at my apartment before the accident. Now all I had was this ring. This silly inconsequential ring that I couldn't help but touch and stare at. How could it be all that was left of a person?
I missed him. And as soon as I thought the words the pain became intense, no longer dulled by the false sense of denial I'd forced myself to live with ever since I'd heard the news. I missed him so much and I wouldn't even have the chance to yell at him again. No fighting or arguing or awkwardness. No making up and getting back together. I couldn't even tell him what a jerk he was for the idiot stunts he just loved to pull. Nothing. Is that what it all boiled down to? When we're gone are we just...gone?
The professor's voice broke through my morbidity and my head snapped up. He was in the center of the front glaring at me.
"Go outside and wait. I want a word with you after class."
I bit back my usual retort, dropped my notebook and textbook back into my bag, shouldered it, and left without looking at any of my classmates. Classmates who were blatantly staring at me. I clenched my teeth and shut the door behind me, putting so much effort not to slam the door that it closed without a sound. I hooked myself up to my iPod and leaned against the wall, refusing to look back down at my ring even as I couldn't help but twist it around some more.
Class ended, people filed out, their whispers not half as quiet as they thought they were.
“Just waiting for her breakdown…”
“Why does she even care?”
“I thought they were over.”
“She just wants attention.”
“I hear she’s ‘teacher’s pet’ if you know what I mean.”
“Morons,” I muttered loudly.
“Inside, Lina,” Professor Harwood ordered from behind me. My shoulders knotted but I turned around and slipped past him with my chin held up a notch higher while he glared me down, holding the door open.
“Lina! Oh, Lina, wait up!”
I stepped back out before Harwood could shut the door on my roomie.
“What’s up?” I asked, fairly confused about Hunter’s hunting me down in the middle of the day.
He skidded to a stop in front of me and let out a heavy breath. “Glad I caught you. I picked up the mail early today.”
“So I think you should go through your half now,” he said meaningfully, his eyes darting to Harwood and back to me.
I scrunched up my face. “Hunter, what is wrong with you?”
He shoved only one piece of mail into my hand.
“Just read it, okay? I didn’t mean to, by the way,” he said through clenched teeth.
Harwood cleared his throat loudly behind me.
“Whatever, I have to go. See you later, Hunter.”
I went back into the class before I was any more annoyed. What was Hunter thinking? Yeah, like I was the one who was off my rocker.
“Lina,” Harwood said as soon as he closed the door, cutting us off from everyone else. “I understand you’ve been through a lot but if you’re not going to pay attention in class, don’t come at all.”
“How does it even bother you? Was I disturbing anyone?” I only just held back from snapping at him.
His eyes narrowed but whatever he said next was lost on me. I’d chosen that moment to look down at the postcard I held in my hand.
“I’m not dead.”
My breathing halted in my throat and I felt my heart stutter. It was a joke. A horrible, cruel, terrible joke. I read through the rest of the note, feeling hatred rise up in me instead of the usual ire. Someone was a real jagoff. Then I registered the handwriting. I brushed the words with my fingers, feeling the slight texture the ink left, smearing it a little. It was his handwriting.
“Alex,” I breathed.
I slowly lifted my head, feeling fairly numb with shock.
“Are you even listening to me?” Harwood said, looking at me with incredulity.
“No,” I said and left.
I read the note over and over and over on my way back to my apartment. He was alive and wanted me to meet him. How? How could that be? I read his obituary, went to his funeral. I hugged his father and got stared down by his teary-eyed mother. His brother broke down in sobs on my shoulder. I touched his coffin.
I fisted the postcard and locked my jaw. If he wasn’t dead, he was about to be.

Mz. SoulKitten
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Re: Not Really Dead - 3/2

Postby Mz. SoulKitten » Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:39 pm

"Why Lord? Why she had to go so soon?"

These were the questions that kept popping up in my head a week after attending the funeral of a friend of mines. It's funny how the pain and emptiness didn't dawn on me until now. I was fine all last week while helping the family arrange homecoming services for the deceased. I was also fine the day of the funeral, the day after as well.

Here it is, exactly a week later. I'm sitting at my kitchen table missing the times we shared at this very same table. We would sit at my kitchen table and laugh about a variety of things. Like how Lyla Fukkmeyer got fired from Guido's Pizzeria (our favorite pizza joint). We joked about how LudaFist, my next door neighbor cried like a baby when his rockreller was poisened (it wasn't funny that the dog died. What was so funny was that LudaFist was unaware that I was the one who poisened the dog for barking to much at night). We even laughed about the mailman's buttocks being bouncy like a basketball.

Last week, a few days before she died, she was in the middle of telling me about her affair with Willie Swedick when she was interrupted with a cell phone call. It was her husband telling her that he had an emergency at the office and that he was being taken to the nearest emergency room. She grabs her purse and hurries out the door, promising that she would finish sharing her infidelity secrets after she sees to her troubled husband. But unfortunately, her life was ended after being struck head on by another vehicle in a four-way intersection.

As I'm sitting here listening to the very last words she said to me play in my mind, I hear someone walking up my front porch: it's the mailman with the bouncy booty! I thought about how she would've laughed if she was sitting here with me. As the man dropped the mail in my box, I made it out to be smaller than the average letter envelop. It didn't look like a bill either so I immediately went over to the door and picked up the card. It read in big bold letters: "I'M NOT DEAD. MEET ME TONIGHT AT GUIDO'S PIZZERIA. TELL NO ONE". At first, I thought it was someone playing a joke on me but after realizing that Guido's Pizzeria was the only place her and I met at outside of my kitchen, I knew the mail had something to do with her but I was still uncertain.

I counted the hours down until it was time to meet at the pizzeria. When I arrived at the restaurant, I noticed her blonde crop hair style. "OH MY GOD!!! is what I scream out at the top of my lungs. Overwhelmed with joy, I was unable to ask her about anything, I just savored and appreciated the fact that I had my friend back.


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