Sunday, January 5, 2014
1st 5 Pages Jan. Workshop: Moreno
Name: Maria Moreno
Genre: Young Adult-Mystery/Paranormal
Title: In Your Wildest Dreams
When I was 14-years-old I read my obituary and it went like this:
“Ms. Montesino is survived by her parents George and Elena. She was a freshman at Celebration High School. She was loved and will be missed dearly.
Just to the left of all two inches of my life was last year’s equally plain yearbook photo showing a round-faced girl. The purple background making my hazel eyes look a mere brown. The only thing that has always been magnificent about me is my long Pantene Pro-V style brown hair.
On the Saturday of Labor Day weekend I felt life leave my body. That night I went out with my best friend Jordania and her then boyfriend, Andrew. “Pleaseeee. You know my parents won’t let me go without you,” said Jordania as she was straitening her blond hair in front of her bathroom mirror.
“I don’t know Joey. I hate feeling like everyone thinks I’m your creepy little third wheel.”
“Ugh, stop it with the pity party! You know no one thinks that. Come on. I’ll buy your dinner.”
“Fine! I said rolling my eyes and crossing my arms. “But you still owe me!”
“Whatever. I don’t even feel bad because I know you like going.”
It’s true. I actually didn’t mind tagging along because it meant that I could go to “The Point.” The point is located on the tallest clearing in our town and it is divided by a two-lane street. One side overlooks the lake while on the other is the woods. It was here that I imagined myself going on my first date and having my first kiss.
I liked to suck in the smell from the pine trees and the nippy air from a fall in central Florida; It put a smile on my face and made me feel like anything was possible. It was exhilarating to see so many kids together at one place besides school. As I scanned the groups I couldn’t help but look for one face in particular: John B. He was Andrew’s close friend, but I had yet to see him at the point.
On this particular Saturday most people had already paired off, so I fell asleep in the back of Andrew’s van while Jordan and him took a blanket and went into the woods.
I was awoken when I felt a gentle rocking movement and then a small slide back as if the car was put in reverse. “Hey. Jordan? Andrew? Back already?” I said as I removed my ear buds and sat up. No Answer. Silence.
My stomach dropped when I looked around and saw that no one was in the van with me. The car lurched back again with a little more force. “Oh my god,” I thought. “This car is going to roll off the cliff and into the water with me in it if I don’t get out now!”
I jumped for the side door, and kept pulling at it, but it wouldn’t budge because the child safety lock was on. Frantically, I tried to climb over the center console in order to reach the front passenger door. As I did so the weight from my sudden movements shifted the car back and propelled it into its quick descent down the hill. I held on to the headrest for grip, but I felt a hot pain when I hit my face on the headrest knocking out four of my front teeth and making me unconscious.
The car flipped backwards twice before landing right side up in the water. The van was floating for about 30 seconds before popping back up again only to be immediately swallowed by an air bubble. The car quickly sank front first and filled with water.
The pressure from the water forcing its way into my nostrils and mouth woke me up. I sat up, but I still felt dizzy from hitting my head. I knew that the right thing to do was to try and exit the car. Again, I tried to climb over the center console, but the resistance from the water was making it impossible.
I was tired and all I wanted to do was sleep. Rather than continue to struggle, I gave up. In that moment I became detached and it was like tape peeling off of paper. As I began to exit the world I felt weightless and I looked down and saw my pudgy body hovering slightly over my seat, my hands raised and my hair was floating all around me in the green murky water like a mermaid. For the first time ever I saw myself and thought I looked pretty.
There wasn’t a tunnel of white light to follow, but I soon found myself in a sterile empty room. I couldn’t see my body and I didn’t feel safe or peaceful. Rather I felt an empty void where my heart was and it was soon filled with hopelessness, anxiety, guilt and anger.
On the floor was the Central Lakes Gazette and it was there that I saw my obituary. I felt a tremendous sadness not for the people I left on earth, but for myself. In my short life I had accomplished nothing, experienced nothing and I wouldn’t have the chance to do so.
I silently pleaded to be given my life back to have the opportunity to live it.
Right then an opening in the room appeared.
Hello. My name is Clara; I am from Mt. Dora and I am a clairvoyant. My hometown is nestled in Central Florida spaced an almost equal distance from Walt Disney World and the Kennedy Space Center. It rests on an elevated 400 feet overlooking three swampy lakes, the highest point of land in an otherwise flat state.
Ever since my accident I felt that I gained a “gift.” Soon after I began reading other people’s obituaries in order to help settle their unfinished business. I usually accomplished this by sending anonymous messages to the deceased’s loved ones or doing deeds on their behalf.
I was starting to doubt my abilities and began to view them as the musings of a traumatized16-year-old. That is, until I found this: “Help! The voices in my head have stopped talking. This can’t be good. This can only mean they’re up to something,” read the note that was wedged in the middle of my geography textbook.
I had always been the sender; no one had ever reached out to me before.
However, in light of recent events, and at the risk of further offending the dead and the mentally insane, I was on a break from my pastime. Tonight, along with the arrival of this note, marks the five-month anniversary of the last time I sent a message of my own, coinciding with the night that John B. disappeared, the only person who knew about my work.