Note: I want to thank Angela Rasch for her help with this story. She's been very kind and patient with me.
IMPORTANT NOTE FOR THOSE WHO ARE SENSITIVE TO HORROR: This story has some elements of horror but it has a happy ending. I hope you give it a chance. Thanks.
Nightmare Girl
by Terry Volkirch
Part 1 of 3
I was plagued by a dream -- a recurring nightmare, actually -- and after suffering with it for a year, it continued to shake me up. I thought I'd get used to it after all that time, but it was slowly killing me.
The dream starts with me standing at the edge of a dance floor in a place called the Seaside Inn. The warm glow of candles and oil lanterns reflects off the shiny new hardwood floor, casting eerie shadows that move on every wall and stretch to the far corners of the large room.
I listen to two young men strumming acoustic guitars while watching young couples embrace and move as one to the rhythm. The music flows into me, and I gently sway side-to-side.
The more I watch, the more confused I get. Something bothers me about the clothes, especially the women's clothes. They seem old, like something my grandmother might wear. If everyone wasn't so preoccupied with dancing -- and if I had any control over the dream -- I would ask if they were having some kind of lame costume party.
As I slowly move to the music, I feel something strange yet familiar brushing my legs. I look down and smile, admiring my long pleated skirt, swinging like a large bell to toll the midnight hour.
My face shows pleasure but my thoughts are in turmoil. I feel like two different people at the same time. The dream is impossible.
I'd never been to the Seaside Inn before -- until my current trip -- and except for in that dream, I'd never been a girl!
***
It was Halloween night when I first had the dream. I woke up after seeing the skirt I wore, and I didn't tell anyone. Shame already ruled my lonely little world. A small, feminine boy attracted ridicule like a magnet. There was no way I'd reveal my dream, not until it haunted me again and again, slowly driving me crazy.
As the months passed, I got used to wearing girls clothes in my dream, and more of it played out.
I notice that my normally short black hair tickles my shoulders, and I somehow know that my face looks very similar, just slightly more feminine. I purse my full lips and my dark, brooding eyes take in the scene with the happy couples, dancing and smiling and laughing the night away. I yearn to join in, but I'm too young, and I don't have a partner.
Swaying to the music helps a little, but it isn't satisfying, so I find myself moving my feet. Then my arms start swinging. I watch the women dance and try copying their movements, and I dance by myself. It still isn't good enough.
As long as I can see everything, see that no one dances with me, I can't be happy. Nothing satisfies me until I lose myself in the dance. I close my eyes and toss my head around with reckless abandon, diverging from the normal dance of the time and morphing into a silly, spastic puppet. I'm wild and free and love every second of it.
All too soon, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps cuts short my happy little dance. I open my eyes to see a large angry figure glaring down at me. A meaty hand reaches out to grab my wrist and roughly pull me back away from the dance floor.
***
The first time I got that far, the man's hand yanked me right out of the dream. I woke up trembling with excitement and fear, and just like with my swaying skirt, the scary man seemed both familiar and unrecognizable at the same time. I didn't know what to think of that, but I refused to ask anyone for help. About twice a week, I just kept suffering through that same dream sequence.
The rest of my life was extremely dull by comparison. When I wasn't forced to go to school, I holed up in my bedroom, reading books about far away places.
"Get a life, bookworm!" my crazy older sister often called through my closed door. I could always count on her to remind me of my boring ways.
"Get bent, wonder goth!" I'd usually shout back.
She wasn't really into gothic clothing, and we didn't exactly insult each other to be cruel. I could hear the love and concern behind her words. I think she just did it to try to force me out of my rut. It was a last resort.
She stopped taking me places after we both started getting teased. She no longer wanted to be seen with me. No one did. She hung out with her friends and I had nothing but my books, my only friends.
The fictional places in my books made me wonder whether the Seaside Inn was real. At the time, I didn't know that the place actually existed, but everything about my dream seemed so consistent and real. It made me believe that the inn actually did exist, and I wish I would've confided in someone about my dream much earlier. It might have saved me some anguish.
***
After being yanked awake by the scary dream man for several months, I grew numb to the rough treatment and felt resigned to my impending punishment. I had to be punished.
It was very late in my dream and I should've been in bed. I also knew it was wrong to dance so wildly. I knew it would lead men on and make them lose all control. I was a naughty girl. I was always naughty. I had memories of the scary man telling me so.
No longer fearing my fate, I jumped past the yanking scene to extend my nightmare once again.
The man drags me out a back door and makes a sharp right turn along a wooden deck that hugs the back of the building. I get whipped around the corner and hear myself yelp.
From the unsteady gait and smell of his breath, I can tell he had quite a lot to drink. It isn't enough to loosen his grip though.
A stiff breeze rustles leaves, masking the sound of my footsteps as I skid down a short flight of stairs. My feet hit sand and we turn left. With a gibbous moon to light our way, we head away from the back of the inn towards the ocean.
How I loathe the ocean. I have disjointed memories of standing with him on a private beach at night, where he likes to lecture me. He lectures for what seems like hours, and when he sees that it doesn't do any good, he beats me. He says it hurts him more than it does me. He tells me that he does it for my own good. No one ever interrupts. My mother is nowhere to be seen. The police and Child Protection Service don't save me. No one does.
As he hurries through the tall grass, dragging me behind, I have trouble keeping my footing. My long skirt restricts my stride. It's only his strong grip that keeps me from falling. I stumble behind him on autopilot and feel myself drifting away. I detach myself from the reality of the moment to save my sanity, and I daydream about running through a sunny meadow.
I get about halfway across my imaginary meadow -- a dream within a dream -- when he abruptly stops and startles me. Apparently, he forgot about the cliff behind the inn.
Being kept from his goal makes him angry enough, but a sudden question from me really fuels his anger.
"Are you through yet?" I hear myself ask in a loud, bored voice.
He turns on me and grabs both of my shoulders, shaking me like a rag doll ... and shaking me awake.
***
The nightmare got worse, and I tried locking it all away, deep inside.
My sister, Lisa, stopped insulting me. I think she sensed me slipping away and gave up.
I sometimes caught her and my mother exchanging odd looks when they thought I wasn't looking. I also noticed a sudden awkward silence on those rare occasions when I walked in on one of their conversations. My sister usually shook her head and walked out of the room soon after I arrived, leaving my mother to busy herself in her sanctum sanctorum, the kitchen.
"What's to eat?" I'd parrot, following after my mom.
That always amused her.
After school, she left me on my own to forage through the fridge while she prepared dinner, and on the weekend, she often made me a grilled cheese sandwich. After downing my favored meal and politely thanking her, I'd wander back to my room and resume my bland existence.
At least I wasn't exactly depressed. I had a normal teenage appetite, and that kept my mom at bay.
***
My extended dream recurred for several weeks, with me being unable to make it past the shaking part. It was too easy to wake up at that point, especially since I had a strong feeling of dread about how the dream would end.
I think morbid curiosity finally got the better of me though. One night, as usual, I slipped into the dream, and it extended again.
I enjoy the music and endure the scary man's rough treatment. We end up at the cliff, and he shakes me, but I don't wake up. Instead, yet another strange thing happens. I laugh. I tilt my head back and laugh hysterically. I laugh because that poor, frustrated man can't drag me down to the beach and punish me like he so desperately wants. There's no way down to the water and there's no beach. There are only large, jagged rocks, pounded by the sea at the base of the cliff.
I wished I could control the dream at that point. I didn't want to laugh at the scary man. I wanted to threaten to call the police, but that's not the way the dream played out.
My high-pitched laughter pierces the roar of the crashing surf and seriously enrages him. He completely loses control, and when slapping my face doesn't stop me from laughing, he tries a foolproof method. He throws me backwards off the cliff.
Getting thrown off the cliff surprises me, and in the bright moonlight, I can see that it surprises him too since we briefly face each other. Our eyes are both wide as I fall away from him.
***
I woke up in a cold sweat almost immediately after the scary man let go of me in the dream, and I made it up to that same point countless times after that, afraid to see the dream to the bitter end. It wasn't until early October of the current year -- a little over three weeks ago - that I woke up screaming.
The nightmare extended a final time, and I fell, waking just as I hit bottom. I screamed as I fell in the dream and I screamed as I woke up. It was the first of many screams.
***
Even after the first several nights of screaming, I stubbornly kept my dream a secret. I said that I couldn't remember anything but vague shadows.
My parents threatened me with therapy. My sister avoided me.
Naturally, I didn't sleep well, and what's worse, my recurring nightmare occurred more and more frequently. It always woke me in the middle of the night and it took ages to drop off again. It's hard to sleep with your heart pounding in your chest and the cold sweat of fear soaking your bed sheets. That nightmare scared me half to death -- literally.
I read somewhere that if you die in your dream, you die in real life, and I came very close to dying in my nightmare every single time. I could almost feel the touch of cold, wet rock on my back at the end of every fall.
One morning, while I sat at the table eating a bowl of cold cereal, I wondered what it must have felt like to actually hit the rocks. I shivered with dread and couldn't break free of the gruesome images until my mother saved me.
"Marty," she said in her best motherly tone. "You can't keep this up."
"I'm fine," I maintained.
"Those bags under your eyes say different, young man."
I flinched violently when she called me a young man, surprising both of us.
I'd barely started puberty and I never really thought about my gender before, but recently, I felt like I started merging with the girl in my dream. I liked wearing the skirt and I liked being her, in spite of what happened to her -- to me -- in the dream. I suddenly realized that I identified more as a girl than a boy, and it hit me hard.
"Mom!" I suddenly shouted and started crying.
I sprung from my chair and ran to her. I wrapped my arms tightly around her, quietly saying the same thing over and over.
"I don't want to die."
I don't know exactly why I said that. It could be because I thought I'd eventually hit the rocks and the nightmare itself would kill me, or it could be that I thought the scary man would show up one day for real and drag me off to the Seaside Inn to throw me off the cliff. I even wondered if some small part of me feared the loss of my manhood. Whatever the reason, my little breakdown saved me. It didn't stop my nightmare but it got me to talk about it in excruciating detail. I told my family everything, and it started the ball rolling for some much needed research.
***
My mother took charge and after a week of intense searching found out everything she could. She identified a Seaside Inn that matched my dream perfectly in every respect except one. Only the age of the building seemed out of place. The inn in my dream seemed fairly new, but the place that our family showed up at two days before Halloween looked a bit worse for wear.
The peeling gray paint on the three story Gothic style building showed signs of once being white, and the wood underneath showed through in many places. Weeds and ratty looking shrubs invaded nearly every square inch of the grounds.
I should've been upset about not being told we were coming, but I wasn't. I got out of the car and slowly moved forward, like I was being pulled or pushed. I chalked it up to curiosity but I don't think that's what kept me going.
I pushed through a creaky wrought iron gate and stopped on a path that consisted of broken concrete slabs with dandelions straining through every crack. The place reeked of sadness and neglect.
My father and sister went in ahead to see about getting a room. They walked carefully over creaking floorboards on the front porch, leaving my mother and me to have a little talk.
"It makes sense," my mother assured me. "It's old now but it matches the age of the clothes that you said everyone wore."
"You mean I've been dreaming of the past?"
"I think so," she said, looking at the inn instead of me. "There's something else you should know too."
I froze.
My mother turned to look at me and smiled.
"It's okay, Marty. We'll get through this. I'll tell you later, after we get settled here."
***
The inn turned out to be closed for the season, leaving only a solitary old man to watch over it. The old caretaker found it hard to believe anyone would want to stay in late October but my father persisted, explaining that he was doing research for a book he wanted to write. The Seaside Inn made the perfect setting for his next novel.
When the caretaker thought about what that might mean for future business, he was all smiles and fawned over us like we were royalty or something. It was a little annoying, but I was easily annoyed. The place gave me the creeps.
As I stepped up onto the porch and made my way to the entrance, I heard the old man give some background information to my father.
Many decades ago, the inn had been a hot spot for informal gatherings and dances, but the last twenty odd years had been unkind. Only bird watching tourists came to stay, and they kept to the warmer months. The inn normally closed from early October through March, and it barely made enough money to survive.
Bored, I drifted away from the group once we got inside, my feet moving with a will of their own. I didn't care. The creepy old place didn't exactly feel comfortable but it felt familiar. I'd seen it dozens of times ... in my dreams.
In stark contrast to the Gothic architecture, the furnishings looked modern and cheap, differing greatly from my dream. Yet somehow, the interior didn't diminish the charm of the place. It only seemed to reinforce the adage, "Beauty is only skin deep." The beauty was in its façade.
I scuffed my feet until I found myself near what had once been the hardwood dance floor. Chairs and tables spread out over the floor now, their surfaces covered by white linen for the next several months while they waited for the tourists to return.
As I stood there, I felt a presence, calming and directing me from within. I closed my eyes and I heard music. The place came alive. Men played guitars and couples danced. I was captivated.
"Marty? Where are you?" Lisa called.
Her voice barely registered over the music that I heard in my mind. I ignored her and slowly swayed to the music.
"Marty! Snap out of it!"
My sister caught up to me and roughly shook me by the shoulder. She meant well but I'd had enough shaking by the scary man in my nightmare. It scared the heck out of me, and I screamed, and the light slowly faded as I slumped to the floor.
***
I woke up lying on a small twin bed in a small room with a tiny window and slanted roof. The unfamiliar sight confused me so I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look.
"Marty?" my mother asked. "What happened? Are you feeling okay?"
She sat in a chair at the foot of the bed and looked up from the newspaper she had opened on her lap. Her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose, as she herself perched on the edge of a sturdy high-backed chair. Everything seemed poised on the edge of something, and it made me uneasy.
"I'm fine!" I blurted out. "Really."
I tried to distract myself from thoughts of edges and cliffs ... and falling.
"I heard music ...," I said. "I heard it in my mind and I started reliving the dream. If Lisa didn't shake me, I'm afraid I would've kept going. I ... I don't want to die!"
I did it again. I broke down, except this time my mother came to me. She hugged me tightly as I cried, and she calmed me with a few soothing words.
"It's okay, Marty. I'm here. I won't let you die."
After a good, short cry, I took a deep, shuddering breath and gently pushed away to talk. I wanted to know more about that place. I didn't want any more surprises.
"So?" I asked, wiping tears from my eyes. "Is there a cliff overlooking the ocean?"
"Oh ... that." My mother looked away. "Yes. Yes, there is. It's not hundreds of feet tall like you estimated but I suppose it's high enough."
"Then it's all here," I said to myself. "Everything I need to live the dream for real is here."
I flopped back down on the bed and had a sudden flashback of falling in my dream. I flinched and my eyes went wide but I stopped short of screaming. The soft bed reassured me well enough.
"Marty?" Mom didn't add any more words but her eyes spoke volumes, radiating concern.
"Everything keeps reminding me of my dream. I guess it's freaking me out a little."
"Hmmm." She smiled. "Maybe you just need something to eat. Since there are no staff here except for the caretaker, we've got full run of most of the place, including the kitchen. How about one of my famous grilled cheese sandwiches?"
My stomach gurgled to answer for me, causing more than a few giggles as the two of us got up to leave the room.
***
My family sat at a large rectangular dining table, half again more than we needed. My mother insisted we use it so it could hold everything. She didn't want to have to make a lot of long trips between the kitchen and dining room.
Lisa and I set the table and then helped my mother carry the food out for lunch while Father sat at the table scribbling notes. He really did plan to write a book about the experience. Writing was only a hobby for him but he dedicated himself to it.
With the table set and full of food, we all sat down for a light meal and a hearty discussion, started off by a single, simple question.
"Why are we here?" I finally thought to ask between bites.
I didn't mind the time off from school. I wasn't doing well anyway. With my lack of sleep, it was hard to concentrate in class. I thought the break might actually do me some good, or at least I thought it would until we arrived at the inn. I wasn't too pleased about the destination. I thought we were going somewhere nice.
As I said before, my parents neglected to tell me where we were going. My mother did a lot of research but doled out little of what she learned. Before we left on our trip, all she told me was that there was a Seaside inn that seemed to match the one in my dream.
"First off," my mother began. "I wanted to be sure this was the right place."
"Oh, it's the right place," I assured her.
"Right. I also hoped to find more answers here. I hoped to find a way to end your nightmare. I can't stand to see you suffer like you have."
"I'm not happy about it either, but what can we do?"
"Well ...," she looked away, a little guilty. "We have a plan."
I looked around at the faces of my sister and father and noticed they shared my mother's guilty look.
"And you were going to share this plan with me when?" I huffed.
"I wanted to make sure this was the same inn before telling you the plan. It wouldn't make sense to go through with it if it didn't match the inn in your dream."
"Right ...." I scowled a little but kept stuffing my face with food. I loved grilled cheese sandwiches too much to stop.
My mother stared intensely at my face, and seeing that I seemed to be under control for the moment, she dished out another important fact. She must have felt that I needed more softening up before divulging the plan.
"Remember when I was going to tell you something outside when we first got here?"
I froze again. Not even the lure of the last bite of my grilled cheese sandwich could thaw me. Something in my mother's eyes and voice made me really nervous.
"Marty?"
I slowly nodded and she revealed more of her research.
She told me about a girl, my great, great Aunt Sophie, who died when she was only a few months older than my current age. According to the research, Sophie had committed suicide, jumping from the cliff. She didn't leave a note so no one understood why she did it. It didn't make sense at the time, but after my dream and my experiences at the inn, her death took on a darker meaning.
"Finish your sandwich, Marty, and your milk. I have something to show you."
I quickly did as she asked and she pulled up a folder that she had lying on her lap. Mothers could be so sneaky!
From the folder, she pulled out a sheet of paper with something on it. She moved my empty plate and glass and set the paper on the table in front of me.
I had a lot of trouble looking down at it. I gripped the edges of my chair first and slowly tilted my head to face it, and what I saw made me gasp.
I saw a black-and-white photograph of a girl who looked very much like me. Her lips were slightly fuller and her straight black hair reached down to her shoulders but I felt as though I was looking in a mirror.
"Yes," my mother confirmed. "There's a strong family resemblance."
"Ewwww, Marty," Lisa suddenly added. "Trying to catch flies again?"
My sister referred to the fact that my mouth hung open in amazement. It was an old phrase but we shared a taste for old movies and had both giggled when we first heard it. That was years ago, back when I was innocent and happy, before the really cruel teasing started, and well before my nightmare.
My mother snatched the paper back and frowned.
"This is so odd," she said, looking down and speaking more to herself than anyone else. Then she looked up and stared deep into my eyes. "I'm still not sure I believe in ghosts," she continued. "But it looks like Sophie has been trying to tell you something."
*** to be continued ***
© 2009 by Terry Volkirch. This work may not be replicated in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder). All Rights Reserved. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental.
Note: I want to thank Angela Rasch for her help with this story. She's been very kind and patient with me.
IMPORTANT NOTE FOR THOSE WHO ARE SENSITIVE TO HORROR: This story has some elements of horror but it has a happy ending. I hope you give it a chance. Thanks.
Nightmare Girl
by Terry Volkirch
Part 2 of 3
We moved to digest both our food and the added information in the lounge, where my mother chose to reveal the great plan that would hopefully end my nightmare.
The high ceiling loomed overhead, dangling a line of several tiny chandeliers that twinkled with electric lights. Like the chairs and tables on the dance floor, everything was covered with linen to keep the dust off. Everyone selected a chair in the same area and pulled off the dust cover to reveal their selected seat. Though Halloween was right around the corner, it reminded me of unwrapping Christmas gifts.
I slumped down in a large, overstuffed chair, and for once, Mom didn't try to correct my poor posture. Instead, she described Shakespearean plays. I thought that to be a rather odd subject but I patiently listened.
She explained that women weren't allowed to act in plays way back when so the men had to take on the parts of the women. The actors wore dresses and carried on as if they were truly women. They were actors playing a role. It was their craft.
I thought it was stupid to not allow women to act but I found their workaround to be fascinating. I don't know if it was caused by my dream or something deep inside me that was always there, but I felt I was meant to be a girl. I hoped I didn't look too eager as my mother continued. My growing secret desire embarrassed me.
She moved on to the subject of roleplaying games, including computer games. I played more than a few computer roleplaying games, so again, she had my attention. Losing oneself in a game, pretending to be a character in an epic battle against evil held a strong appeal for me.
I never considered playing a female character before but my mother finally told me the plan by bringing up that very idea. She thought that by reenacting my nightmare, Sophie would somehow be able to be put to rest. My mom was sure that Sophie's ghost had unfinished business and was looking to me for help.
"That's crazy," I said, raising my voice. "Do you realize what you're asking?" I wasn't too happy about the idea, not so much because I'd be playing the part of a girl but rather because I didn't like the final scene.
My father quickly rushed over. My family wanted to make sure I didn't run away, something that did occur to me. I wanted to rush out and leave the Seaside Inn far behind.
After calming down a little, I composed myself enough to speak again.
"Sophie dies at the end of my dream," I reminded them with a glare.
"We're not going to let you die!" they all chorused.
"We'll keep you from being thrown off the cliff," my mother added, casting an angry look in my father's direction. "If I had my way, I wouldn't let you near that damn cliff. But your father assured me he won't let you fall."
"But why?!" I shouted. "Why go through it for real if I don't fall off the cliff to complete it?!"
"Please, Marty. Calm down." My father spoke quietly, surprising me. "We think the cycle can be broken by keeping you from being thrown off the cliff at the end of the reenactment. I know it might be dangerous, but I think we have to try. We're really concerned about your nightmare. You've been waking up screaming several times a week and we're really afraid of the long-term consequences."
I couldn't believe my ears. "So I either die slowly from my nightmare or I get thrown off a cliff and die quickly. Is that it?"
"At least we can control the reenactment. There's no way we can control your dreams."
His quiet voice soothed me. Somehow -- by contrast I suppose -- he overcame my shouting. He made me listen, and I trusted him to keep me safe. I trusted the plan to work. Besides, Sophie was counting on me.
***
Night came slowly as I watched the sun slowly move across the western half of the sky. I sat in a wooden Adirondack chair on the back deck and shivered a little, more from dreading the coming reenactment of my nightmare than the cool ocean breeze. The caretaker didn't help either. He wandered everywhere and I swear that I felt his creepy eyes on me whenever I wasn't looking.
I had several hours to myself after I had a little fight with my family. My male programming wouldn't let me accept wearing girls clothes without a protest. I insisted that I try wearing my regular clothes for the first night. My parents thought it was a waste of time, and my sister looked strangely disappointed, but I wouldn't be budged, so they left me alone to wait for nightfall. It wasn't until sunset that Lisa showed up to get me.
"Hiya, Sis," she chirped as she flopped down in the chair next to me.
"Hiya," I answered back before realizing what she called me. "Hey!"
"Hey, what? You'll be playing a girl soon. I'm just trying to help you get into character."
"Right. Since when did you become my director?"
"Oh, c'mon. Just relax. It's cool. Beside, I know you like it. Sisters can tell these things." She gave me a wink and turned to watch the sunset with me.
I gave her an unladylike grunt but I didn't deny it. I had to admit that I liked the idea of being a girl with an older sister to show me the ropes. Even hand-me-downs excited me, something that wasn't difficult considering that I had no girls clothes.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Just what did you guys want me to wear tonight? Your clothes are too big for me."
Lisa giggled and turned towards me with a gleam in her eye.
"That's easy, newbie. You described what you wear in your dream and Mom and I whipped up the outfit. Duh."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Wanna see it? It's old-fashioned but I think you'd look cute in it."
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you," I stated. It wasn't a question. It was obvious she was enjoying our conversation.
"Well, duh, little sis. I always wanted a sister, and always knew I had one. You just needed a good nudge."
"Is that what you call this?! A good nudge?!"
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Calm down. You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do. So why didn't you ever talk to me about it before?"
"I dunno. Why didn't you ever say anything about it? It works both ways."
"Yeah," I said softly. "It's not easy to talk about."
"Anyway, are you ready to start the show soon? We don't have all night, ya know." She giggled at her lame attempt at humor and I scowled back.
"Whatever," I said, quickly getting up and leaving her to follow me inside.
***
We had a fast, light dinner, foraging on apples, celery sticks, bread and cold cuts. My mother had refused to cook. That's how I knew how upset she was. It didn't matter though. I couldn't eat much, and I was sure I couldn't handle a heavy meal with the dancing butterflies in my stomach.
With dinner out of the way, I went to stand near the dance floor under my family's close supervision. I noticed the caretaker across the room, scowling at me, but I felt safe with my father.
I closed my eyes after feeling the same calming presence that I'd felt the last time I stood in that spot. The music began and I lost myself in my daydream. Everything began to play out exactly as it did in my nightmare. I listened to the music and watched the couples dancing. It was amazing, and amazingly lifelike.
It didn't take long to get to the spastic happy dance scene and as usual, I didn't get nearly enough time to enjoy my favorite part of the dream. I suddenly grew cold when loud footsteps approached, adding fear to my excitement and causing my heart to race. It amazed me that I could hear anything over the thumping in my chest, but I did, and I surprised myself by opening my eyes. The plan was for me to keep my eyes shut, thinking that the reenactment wouldn't work unless I did so.
I gasped when I saw a distinct glowing outline of the scary man from my nightmare. He towered over me and reached out to grab my wrist before I could even think to run. But something went wrong. He pulled the glowing shape of a girl from inside me and dragged her away towards the back door. I could just barely see them phase through the solid wood door before I collapsed.
***
I don't remember being put to bed that night, but at least I didn't have my nightmare. I slept very well and woke up refreshed. I was also very hungry, always a good sign. I slid into some clothes and followed my nose to the kitchen.
"What's to eat?" I said as I rushed into my mother's favorite room, giving her a fright.
She slapped a hand to her neck and gasped. "Goodness, Marty! How about a little warning next time."
"You look like you've seen a ghost," I joked.
"Ha ha. Just go sit down and I'll bring you a plate of French toast. It's almost ready."
I made happy sounds all the way back to the dining room and anxiously awaited my favorite breakfast. I noticed that I already had a glass of milk waiting for me, along with the butter and corn syrup. I got a lot of good-natured teasing about my strange tastes but I didn't care. I wasn't all that fond of maple syrup and I had to put something sweet on my French toast.
Of course I was just trying to put on a happy front. I knew Sophie wasn't finished with me. The first reenactment didn't get very far so I'd be dressing up in costume and getting more into my role as a girl to try again that night. But at least I felt excited about dressing as a girl.
The rest of my family wasn't nearly as enthusiastic.
As I sat there, humming to myself and imagining myself wearing a skirt and dancing, my family joined me and looked decidedly glum.
"Hey," I said. "You guys are dragging me down. How about a little smile?"
I cringed at their lame attempts to smile.
"Yikes! You know what? Never mind."
They went back to eating and I went back to my daydreams. They'd be okay after we got back home, assuming I survived.
***
Besides wearing a costume, a couple other details needed refining for the big event that night. The lights would be dimmed to make it easier to see the scary man's ghost, and the back door would be opened. I didn't want the ghost trying to pull me through the closed door.
With planning out the way, my father went back to his scribbling and the rest of us had to find something to pass the time. Lisa voted for shopping.
"We need to get you some new clothes, Sis," my enthusiastic sister said, hopping up and down. I'd never seen her so excited.
"Um ... let's not get carried away," I warned. "What about the costume you made? We don't even know if it'll fit me."
"Right," my mom added. "You should try it on ... but let's not call it a costume. I think 'outfit' would be a better word."
I rolled my eyes but they weren't fooled.
"Nice try, Sis. But don't forget, I know you can't wait."
She was right. I looked down at the floor and blushed.
***
The three of us went upstairs and I took the outfit to my bedroom to dress in private. I'd gotten down to just my own underwear when I heard a knock.
"Hey, Sis!" Lisa called through the door. "I forgot to give you something."
"Don't come in!" I screamed.
"Don't sweat it," she said. "I'll just open the door a crack and toss it in."
"Toss what ...?" I tried to ask but she was too quick.
The door opened nearly halfway and a small package came sailing into the room. The door slammed shut just as quickly and I could hear Lisa giggling as she ran down the hall.
I picked up the package, a clear plastic bag, and my hand trembled. It contained three white panties.
A strange conflict of emotion swept over me. I felt embarrassed even though no one was there to see me, but I also felt joy at having my first "true" feminine garment. The outfit I'd be wearing that night was really just a costume, something I wouldn't be caught dead in -- hopefully. The panties were like the Holy Grail. I heard angels singing hallelujah, and I wasn't even religious!
Except for the fly, there didn't seem to be much difference between
my underwear and the panties -- until I slipped my legs into the leg holes of the panties and slid them up into place. They hugged my rear beautifully and felt so smooth and soft. I think I must have stood there making cooing noises for a full ten minutes until I got a little cold and started putting on the outfit.
The pleated skirt felt comfortable and familiar. It should. I'd worn it often in enough in my dream. The blouse was nice but the double column of pearl buttons down the front grabbed my attention more than anything else. I loved the look of pearls.
I twirled a couple times but the fabric of the skirt was too heavy and stiff to flare out much. Then I remembered my dream and I swayed gently side-to-side. The skirt swung just like it did in my dream, reminding me of the long pendulum in our grandfather clock back home.
Everything felt comfortable and seemed to fit very well. I smiled and started to leave to show Mom and Lisa when I suddenly realized that another very important item was missing from my outfit. I had no shoes!
Sadly enough, I couldn't remember what footwear I had in my dream. I thought the shoes were black but that's all I could dredge up.
"Oh, well," I said to myself. "I'm sure Mom will think of something."
***
With my head still spinning, I found myself in the back seat of our car on the way to do some shoe shopping at the nearest mall, my fingers holding the seat belt strap in a death grip. My mother drove with Lisa bouncing excitedly in the front passenger seat.
I tried to suppress a giggle at my crazy sister but I failed and she snapped her head around to look at me.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing. I'm just a little nervous I guess."
"Relax, Sis. We'll take good care of you. Won't we, Mom?"
"You two," was all my mother said, slowly shaking her head and chuckling.
***
We had to drive a fair distance to get to a mall with a decent shoe store, but we had all day, and we had my sister to fill in the silence with talk of clothes and boys and anything else that popped into her head. It took nearly the full distance before she paused so someone could get a word in edgewise.
"I can't believe we forgot shoes," my mother said.
"It's okay," I told her. "I suppose I have to try them on to get a good fit anyway. Right?"
"Mom!" Lisa shouted. "She gets it! She totally gets it!"
"Lisa," Mother warned. "Not so loud, please. Marty was just stating a simple fact. We have yet to see if he actually likes the experience. He's never shown much interest in boys shoes."
"What are you two talking about?" I asked.
"You'll see, little sis. You'll see."
And see I did.
I insisted on a cover story before I stepped foot in the shoe store. I wanted it to be clear to the salesperson that I was only there to get girls shoes for a part in a school play. My lame plan was soon forgotten though. After I tried on my third pair of shoes, I swooned, my head lost in the clouds. I did get it. I totally got it. I had the shopping bug, and I totally gave in to my feminine nature.
***
After I let myself go, I couldn't fool my mother. She recognized that I'd never happily go back to being a boy and her heart melted. Just as my sister had done, Mom had embraced the real me, and we had a grand time at the mall.
For the drive back to the inn, Lisa and I swapped moods. With four pairs of shoes, several pairs of socks, two pairs of girls jeans and three tops, I bounced with excitement in the back seat while a subdued Lisa sighed heavily. It saddened her that she didn't get anything.
I got a nice pair of black Mary Janes that I wore out of the store. I wanted to break them in as soon as possible but they already felt quite comfortable. That was one of many pleasant surprises I got that day. The shopping trip really saved me from an afternoon of gloom and doom.
I'd be wearing the Mary Janes with my outfit that night so I'd be able to plow through the sand behind the inn with no problem. Or maybe I'd just glide over the sand considering how fast the ghost dragged me. As happy as I was at that moment, it didn't matter what happened as long as I was dressed properly.
I wished I could've worn more of my new clothes but my mother decided that baby steps were in order. Oh well. I was so excited, I could live with it.
***
By the time we pulled into the parking lot at the inn, Lisa had recovered some of her earlier enthusiasm. She could still be happy for me, even if she felt a little envious. I think I cheered her up when I told her that I wished we were the same size so I could share some of my clothes with her.
After a brief warning not to tell Father about all the "extras" we picked up, Lisa and I rushed up to my bedroom to begin an impromptu fashion show.
"What are you doing?" I asked my sister when she followed me into my bedroom.
"Um ... oh. I guess I'll wait outside. Don't be long!"
She slowly backed out of the room and shut the door behind her.
Within seconds of the door closing, I had all of the annoying tags off of my first pair of jeans. I was a girl possessed. Lisa wouldn't have long to wait to see my first outfit. At least that's what I thought.
I removed the new Mary Janes that I wore, and my boy jeans. Then I slipped my new blue jeans on and started pulling everything else out of their bags.
When I had all of my new shoes out on the floor and everything else laid out on the bed, I froze. I didn't have all that much but I was still paralyzed with indecision. The Mary Janes didn't seem to go all that well with my jeans, and I couldn't decide which top to wear.
"Help!" I cried.
Lisa entered and mercifully, she didn't laugh like I expected. Instead, she clucked and shook her head. "You poor newbie."
She proceeded to show me a couple nice outfit combinations by aligning them together on the floor and bed. She used my boy jeans in place of the pair I had on but the effect was close enough. I was in awe.
She stuck to the basics and got me thinking about matching colors and thinking about what colors looked nice together. Black went with everything but she confirmed that my new tennis shoes matched up with my jeans better than the Mary Janes. Color and style both mattered.
When my eyes started glazing over, the lesson ended, and I put on the top and shoes that Lisa had put together with my old blue jeans. I rushed to the bathroom and stood glued in front of the full length mirror behind the door.
I didn't notice Lisa until she moved behind me to get my attention with her reflection. Her smile was almost as broad as mine.
"Come on, Sis. Didn't you hear Mom? It's lunchtime."
I tore myself away from the mirror and started to move towards the stairs but Lisa quickly stopped me.
"Forgetting something?" she asked. "Dad would have a fit if he saw you now."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Duh! You're wearing your new pink top. Hello!"
"Oh. Right."
Very reluctantly, I went back to my bedroom to change.
Lisa knew so much more than me. She was only a couple years older but she'd been a girl her whole life. I couldn't wait to learn more about being a girl. I just had to get past the next two days.
***
I wish I could say I wasn't nervous that night. I should've been ecstatic. I got to wear girls clothes -- in front of Dad no less! -- but thoughts of the scary man's ghost had to intrude. I was going to be dragged to the edge of a cliff and shaken like a rag doll. It wasn't something to look forward to.
I moved to stand in the usual spot on the edge of the dance floor and prepared myself, with one slight exception. Mom surprised me by plopping a wig on my head. She straightened it a little and then stepped back.
I felt the familiar, calming presence, allowing me to quickly regain my composure. I sighed and closed my eyes. It was easy to get into the mood after that, especially with the long hair from the wig tickling my shoulders, just like in my dream.
The music started and the ghostly couples danced in my mind, though the couples weren't exactly ghosts. They were more like flat projections on a movie screen, no more real than the candles and oil lanterns I saw. I briefly wondered about those images until I felt the urge to sway to the music. The reenactment had my full attention then.
As before, it wasn't long before I started my spastic little dance and lost myself in it. I felt like I could dance all night, but then the footsteps thudded across the floor.
I stopped dancing and felt the same mix of fear and excitement I
felt every time I dreamed that same scene.
Who was this ghostly man? He seemed so familiar. The girl in my dream had so many memories of him. Was he a neighbor? A relative? I thought he might be an uncle, or maybe even her father. But what father could kill his own daughter?
I had so many questions and so little time. I opened my eyes and the reenactment continued.
The man grabbed my wrist and just as we all hoped, he yanked and pulled me behind. We headed for the open door on the way to the dreaded cliff.
I yelped as I had in my dream, but it wasn't forced. He jerked me hard to the right immediately after I passed the doorway and forced the sound out of me. The rest of the time, I just tried to catch my breath as I skidded down the stairs and hit the sand.
We moved so quickly! Too quickly. The ghost's speed caught my family by surprise and they labored to chase after me. There was no way they'd get to the cliff ahead of me as planned.
The tall grass rustled in the strong sea breeze and whipped my arms, but it didn't bother me. I fell into the same daydream I always had in my nightmare. I found myself running across a sunny meadow. It was so peaceful and pleasant. How could anyone be unhappy with such beauty in the world? Then reality came rushing back when I collided with a surprisingly solid ghost. He stopped at the edge of the cliff -- as he always did in my dream -- and silently fumed.
The cliff blocked him, and I felt the urge to say my line. I had to ask the same question that Sophie did that night to continue.
"Are you through yet?" I asked, trying to add the same bored tone of voice.
I used my normal voice, thinking it was high enough. I hadn't made it far into puberty yet and my voice still hadn't changed. But that night was different. My voice cracked halfway through the line. I messed up.
The look on the ghost's face changed from his usual rage to confusion, lingering there awhile before changing again to sadness. He stared at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. I could easily see them, glowing in the darkness. I was sure that those eyes would haunt me for the rest of my life, however long that was. Then he faded away, just as my father arrived, huffing and puffing and yet still managing to scream my name.
"Marty! Are you okay?"
Tears streamed down my face. The sadness of the ghost surprised me. Just like my mother said about Sophie, I think he had unfinished business. I don't think he liked the reenactment any more than any of us.
My father stood looking down at me, and I first nodded yes to answer his question, but the nod turned to shaking my head no. I grabbed him and buried my face in his chest, crying my eyes out.
"Oh, Marty," he said, rubbing my back.
My mother and sister arrived seconds later. They both grabbed one of my wrists and pulled me a good distance away from the cliff. Then they joined me in a tearful hug.
***
We didn't talk much that night. We agreed to leave the big discussion for morning. Everyone was too emotionally wrung out to think straight.
I don't think anyone else noticed someone lurking near the cliff with a flashlight on our walk back to the inn but I didn't bother to mention it. Whoever it was quickly turned the light off when I looked in the general direction. I felt sure it was the caretaker, and I didn't like it one bit. I didn't trust that old man at all. Unfortunately, I couldn't prove anything, so I kept quiet about him.
In spite of the stressful evening, I easily fell into a deep sleep and woke up refreshed once again, very happy to be alive. I think the whole crazy situation helped me appreciate life. Still, I wouldn't wish the experience on anyone.
My family met up for a quick breakfast and by silent agreement, held off awhile longer, finally meeting in the lounge to talk.
"It's my fault," I started.
"What are you talking about?" Mom asked.
"I repeated the line from my dream and the ghost stopped because my voice cracked and ruined the mood."
"Your voice is changing?" my father asked rather gleefully. He really seemed to enjoy having a son to raise. I didn't look forward to breaking the news to him that I wasn't really a boy.
I gave him a sour look and mercilessly deflated his joy before continuing.
"My voice isn't cracking now. Maybe it was just the stress of the moment that did it. But I don't know how to stop it from happening again."
"You could try practicing the line," Lisa offered.
"I guess."
"That assumes you'll be trying again tonight," my mother said. "I don't think I like that idea. I've had just about enough of this place."
"What about Sophie?" I whined.
"I don't care," she growled. "I'm not putting you through this again."
"Please!" I pleaded. "Sophie needs to see it through. She won't rest otherwise."
My mom scowled, but her resolve weakened after staring into my eyes. "I still don't know," she told me. "We'll see."
I felt there was too much at stake to give in. Besides, I'd already been through a lot and I wasn't going to let it be for nothing. I couldn't let the matter rest.
"What if I keep having my nightmare? You said it yourself. It's not healthy. If the ghost doesn't kill me for real, my nightmare will."
"Okay. Okay. We'll try it again. But we'd better damn well be better prepared tonight. Gary?" She turned to my father. "I expect you to go out ahead of time and wait at the cliff, and Lisa will stay here and make sure everything gets started."
"What about you?" I asked her.
"I'll have to think about that."
"Maybe I could take Marty's place?" Lisa spoke up.
"No," I told her. "It has to be me, Lisa. Sophie chose me."
"But why?" she whined. "Why you?"
"I dunno. But have you had my nightmare? Have you heard any of the dance music?"
She slowly shook her head no.
"I know you mean well, but it has to be me."
I smiled at her and she tried smiling back but failed. I got up and gave her a hug. It was going to be an emotional day.
*** to be continued ***
© 2009 by Terry Volkirch. This work may not be replicated in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder). All Rights Reserved. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental.
Note: I want to thank Angela Rasch for her help with this story. She's been very kind and patient with me.
IMPORTANT NOTE FOR THOSE WHO ARE SENSITIVE TO HORROR: This story has some elements of horror but it has a happy ending. I hope you give it a chance. Thanks.
Nightmare Girl
by Terry Volkirch
Part 3 of 3
My new clothes had tempted me but fear of my father had kept me from indulging myself. Instead, I'd spent the morning reading my textbooks. I might have escaped school for a few days but I couldn't escape homework.
Lunch came and went without any meaningful conversation and then I drifted to the back deck. I slumped in one of the many wooden deck chairs to think about the coming ordeal. Halloween was supposed to be a time for fun, a time for fake horror. But I get the real thing. Why me?
I had to consider that I'd gotten very lucky to escape the scary man last night. If my voice hadn't cracked and confused him, he might very well have thrown me off the cliff. My father might not have been able to get to me in time, even with the added seconds for my hysterical laughing act.
So why didn't I feel lucky? My cracking voice really, really bothered me. I didn't like the idea of growing into a man. I didn't feel comfortable as a boy. How could I like being a man?
Remembering Lisa's suggestion, I tried my line a few times and my voice didn't crack once. It must have been stress that caused it. That made me feel a little better, but I still sulked. It wasn't fair. I was too young and feminine to be a man.
A sudden loud scraping sound of wood on wood snapped me out of my funk. I looked up to see the old caretaker dragging one of the deck chairs towards me. Was he insane?
His red flannel shirt and greasy overalls looked normal enough but the intense look in his eye and wild tufts of thin, white hair reminded me of the mad scientists in the old movies that Lisa and I used to watch together.
The fearful look on my face must have confused him because his first reaction was to laugh at me. If he was insane, I hoped he was harmless.
"Wha's that look fer, kid?" he asked with a toothy grin as he sat next to me. "I ain't gonna bite ya."
I quickly looked down to hide my face. "Sorry," I muttered.
"Look here. I ain't gonna pretend I know wha's goin' on with ya here, but I know ya been foolin' with those ghosts. I hope you folks know what yer doin'."
"So do I," I agreed.
The man quickly ran out of words and turned to face the ocean. We both sat listening to the steady breeze rattling the dried leaves that still clung to several oak trees around the inn. The lack of conversation was awkward but I think I preferred it to his rancid breath.
I guess he meant well. He seemed genuinely concerned. At least I didn't think he was motivated solely by the money he might get if Dad wrote a book and got more business for the inn. He pretty much proved it too, once he got a second wind and started talking again.
"Ya know, my brother made all these here chairs. He saw 'em in a furniture store one day and decided to make his own. It's much cheaper that way. He was real good workin' wood. I think he done a good job. Don't you?"
"Yeah. Sure." I nodded, not sure of what to say. But I didn't want to be rude so I asked a question.
"So ... is your brother dead?"
The old man laughed. "What made you ask that? You crazy young folk."
"You said he was good at woodworking. I guess I thought he'd still be around making chairs or something if he wasn't dead."
"Naw. He quit. We don't need no more chairs so he didn't have nothin' to make. He isn't real creative like."
"So where is he?"
"He done moved ta Florida. He can't take the cold like I can."
"Okay," I said, unsure of where the conversation was going. I thought the man was just lonely and desperate to talk to someone.
"Anyway," he said, after a long pause. "I just wanted to tell ya to be careful tonight. Ya hear? Don't get yerself killed. A few folks here had run-ins with 'em before and nearly got themselves a heart attack fer it. Nasty piece of work them ghosts."
"I don't plan on dying," I told him. "We just want to put the ghosts to rest. My mom says they have unfinished business and we're trying to help them finish it."
"Well that may be. Just please be careful."
With that, he flashed me another toothy grin, got up and hobbled inside.
I silently chastised myself for my initial bias against the old man, and I added an extra mental beating for hating the scary man so much. A sudden flashback of the scary man's sad eyes reminded me that he must have had a soft spot, somewhere, at some time. Both the caretaker and the ghost were more than they first seemed. First impressions were overrated. No one was what they seemed.
With a satisfied smile on my face for my newly found wisdom, I took some time to clear my mind and relax. The odd little chat actually helped I think. It made me feel good that a stranger could care about me, and it gave me hope.
***
The afternoon sun dropped to the horizon without me watching on that Halloween day. The weather wasn't unpleasant enough to force me inside. I just wanted a little companionship. I'd suffered alone for too long.
I wandered inside, first looking for my mother, and I must have passed by my father several times before I noticed him, sitting at a dining room table and writing. I thought about asking him if he knew where Mom was but he looked too busy. I left him alone and continued searching.
I checked most of the first floor without any luck, but I eventually stumbled across my sister, sitting on a short couch in the lounge and staring into space.
I flopped down on the couch next to her. "Hiya, Sis," I chirped, imitating how she'd greeted me two days ago on the back deck.
"Hi, Marty," she responded quietly.
"What's wrong?"
"Duh. You're gonna be dragged outside to a cliff by a ghost. This place is so weird."
I chuckled. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it yesterday."
"That's because it didn't happen until last night."
"But I told you about my dream. You knew it was gonna happen."
"I guess I didn't think it would really happen. It's pretty hard to believe."
"Unless you see it with your own eyes," I added.
"Even then."
We sat and thought about that for a short time, until I remembered who I was first looking for.
"So where's Mom? I can't find her anywhere."
"She went out for some ... supplies."
"She went shopping and you didn't go with her?" I asked, a little shocked.
"I'm supposed to stay here and watch you," she confessed.
"You haven't been doing a very good job of that," I pointed out.
"Whatever," she huffed.
"Oh. I get it. You're upset because you couldn't go shopping."
"No, Marty. I'm seriously worried ... about you."
"Oh," my cheeks burned with shame. I'd been teasing her and she was showing genuine concern for me. Dang.
"I'm sorry," I told her.
"It's okay." She turned to face me with a faint smile.
I returned the smile, and I felt a growing urge to hug her, but then a sudden thought popped into my head.
"Hey. You said Mom was getting supplies. What's she gettin'?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not supposed to, that's why. Now shut up and come here."
She leaned towards me and hugged me, making me forget all about all the strange events of the past few days.
***
Lisa made sure I dressed properly and wore the wig that night. She waited outside my bedroom door until I finished dressing and led me downstairs by the hand, not letting go until I reached my appointed place on the edge of the old dance floor.
My parents waited outside for me near the cliff. They were going to make sure no one -- not even a determined ghost -- would end my life.
I still didn't know what my mother had planned. She thought it better if I didn't know, saying something about the element of surprise. It bothered me that she wouldn't trust me. I was growing up fast and felt mature enough to handle almost anything. I'd been able to handle everything well enough so far.
I felt so different, like a completely different person from a year ago. Back then, I was just a little boy, carefree and innocent. But the nightmares and my experience at the inn had a profound effect. They led me to explore my true self in my quest to understand what was happening.
I felt so much taller -- I grew a whole inch since then! -- and more mature, and I discovered that I was meant to be a girl. All of the teasing I endured at school made sense. My behavior and feelings made sense. I couldn't deny it any more. I wouldn't deny it. I was a girl, and I made the decision to actually be a girl there, near the dance floor, after I closed my eyes, waiting for my dream to play out a final time.
It's said that on Halloween, the boundary between this world and the Afterlife weakens, allowing spirits to more easily visit us. I believed it. As a zillion times before, the dream replayed in my mind, and for the third night in a row, it worked its way into reality. But that night, everything seemed so much more vivid and real than ever before. I felt like I could reach out and tug on the dancers clothes. I heard every squeak of shoe on hardwood, every note of the guitars, including the subtle echo off the walls.
I relaxed and swayed to the music without thinking. I didn't think or care about anything. I was just a girl, enjoying some music and wishing I could dance.
As I watched the ghostly couples gracefully dance in the dim light, I yearned to dance with all my heart, so I soon danced, by myself. I lost myself in my private little dance. The dream continued exactly the same way as in my dream except for one brief but very important change just before the dreaded footsteps approached.
"A gift," I heard a girl whisper in my ear.
My whole body tingled but I didn't have time to dwell on it. The footsteps approached and I opened my eyes to see the scary man, looming over me.
Once again, the man grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the back door with a yelp. He dragged me along the deck and down the stairs to the soft sand, and we glided through the grass in the soft moonlight, rapidly approaching the cliff. It all happened so quickly.
I lapsed into my daydream of running through a pleasant meadow. The sun felt warm on my face. The experience felt as real as everything else. Layers upon layers of reality split into parallel worlds, all very real until they collapsed again.
I wanted to stay in the meadow but it wasn't to be. I came back to whatever passed for reality at the moment, running into the ghost at the edge of the cliff. The roar of the surf and strong ocean breeze nearly overwhelmed me. It was only with great difficulty and a little luck that I noticed my father, standing nearby with a grim look on his face. I didn't see my mother, and I didn't have time to look. I had a line to speak.
"Are you through yet?" I said, in a loud and perfect imitation of the voice from my dream. There was no danger of my voice cracking because I had a girl's voice.
I saw my father's eyes go wide. I'm sure he could hear me and I was equally sure that he was shocked by my voice, but it was just what the ghostly man needed to hear.
This time the ghost didn't hesitate. He lunged forward and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me hard. It surprised me for a split second, but then I followed my part and laughed. It truly did strike me as silly and stupid, and I laughed exactly as I always did in my dream.
The ghost slapped me hard, stinging my cheeks, and still I laughed. I laughed hysterically and the ghost's rage built to a terrifying crescendo. The reenactment worked, and the final scene played out as he threw me backwards off the cliff.
Everything happened in slow motion at that point. I heard my mother scream and heard my father shout, "No!" I felt a strong jerk on my arm, not unlike what I experienced from the ghost when he first pulls me away from the dance floor. Then I fell into a merciful blackness, fainting dead away.
***
I awoke the next morning looking up at the ceiling of the little bedroom on the top floor of the inn. Light filtered through the thin curtains and everything seemed so ordinary and real, but I couldn't help wonder if I was dead. Perhaps I was a ghost, doomed to join Sophie, forever reenacting the events that led up to my death. The bedroom was just a place where I waited for night so I could be thrown off the cliff.
I shivered with dread at the unpleasant thought, and had to make a decision. Even if I was dead, I didn't have to lie down and accept being thrown off a cliff for the rest of eternity. Like Sophie, I'd find some way to call for help.
I'm sure that my family had the solution to ending Sophie's torment. The dream had to be reenacted with a different ending, a happy ending where she doesn't fall to her death. If I was dead, I'd need the same help, and I was determined to get it.
Feeling pleased at my decision to fight, I propped myself on my elbows, expecting the worst. But I was instantly relieved by a wonderful sight.
My sleeping family surrounded me. My sister and mother rested their heads on the opposite arms of a short couch that had been dragged near the foot of my bed. My father slept on the floor to the side with a blanket draped over him, probably added by my mother after he fell asleep. My father liked to think he didn't need blankets. According to him, he braved the cold countless time and lived. Men could be so silly.
"Hello?" I said, testing my voice and hearing it well for the first time. It wasn't all that different from my normal voice, but it was different enough to sound more like a girl. I loved it! I loved hearing the sound of my new voice.
"Wake up, everyone! I'm okay! I'm alive!"
They all roused slowly, my mother the first to speak.
"Marty?"
"Yes, Mom. I'm okay." I smiled at her and then laughed when my stomach gurgled loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"I guess I'm not quite okay," I joked. "What's to eat?"
My mom flew up from the couch, throwing off her blanket. She attacked me with kisses and hugs, and she soon had reinforcements, forcing her to shift a little to make room.
When the hugging and kissing finally abated, I postponed breakfast a little while longer. I had to find out what happened last night. My family separated but remained with me on the bed to have a little discussion.
"I guess you've noticed that your voice sounds different," my father said, being indirect as usual.
"Yeah. I'm a girl now, aren't I." I stated it as fact. I knew I was a girl, inside and out.
Everyone slowly nodded. They looked uncomfortable, making me wonder whether they thought I wasn't happy about my new gender. I had to set them straight.
"Don't worry! I love it!" I shouted. "I truly do. Lisa! You were so right about me. But I can't believe it's actually happened."
"What did happen?" my mother asked.
"I'm not sure. Sophie whispered something about a gift in my ear and my whole body tingled. I don't know how or why but she changed me."
"Maybe it was to keep your voice from cracking," Lisa said.
"Maybe," I said. "But she said it was a gift. I like to think she's paying me back for trying to help her."
"Oh," Father cut in. "About that. I do believe we were successful in helping her, but more importantly, we saved you. I think we got very lucky last night though. Your voice really surprised us."
"Yes?" I said, trying to be polite, though my eyes glared a warning that I'd be very upset if someone didn't fill me in on the full story very soon. Mother took the hint.
"I didn't want to tell you this ahead of time," she said. "But I had a bungee cord rigged up. I was trying to attach it to your ankle but your new voice surprised me. I ... I wasn't able to do it. I'm so sorry! You almost died because of me." She started crying and my father scooted over on the bed to hug and comfort her.
"Daddy grabbed you just in time," Lisa continued, sounding like an extremely proud little girl. "It was awesome! I just got there and saw him reach out to snag your wrist. He somehow kept his balance and hung on to jerk you back to safety." She sighed and looked at our father with admiration.
Grabbing me and keeping me from flying over the cliff did sound awesome. I know how difficult that must have been because of how sore I felt. I subconsciously rubbed my left wrist, but my thoughts kept coming back to what my mother said.
"Bungee cord?" I asked, not believing what I heard.
My mom fought back the sniffles and explained that she had Father pound in a stake and tie one end of a bungee cord to it. She tested the length of the cord with a weight several times to make sure I wouldn't hit the rocks below, and then she prepared to wait and attach the loose end of the cord to my ankle when the time came.
My father reacted strangely to hearing that. He snickered.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Quiet, Dear," Mother warned.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But you should take more credit. Weight indeed." He snickered again and got me really curious.
"Mom? What's he talking about?"
"It's just his misguided way of saying that parents will do anything for their children. Let's just leave it at that. Okay?" She smiled but her eyes glistened with danger.
I took the hint and shut up, though I gave Lisa a quick questioning look. She just shrugged. Parents are so strange.
I continued to rub my sore wrist and caught my father's attention. He looked kind of guilty.
"It's okay. Really." I told him, holding my hand up and flopping it around to prove it, but I got a little carried away. "Ow! That hurts."
"I'm sorry, ssss ... um ... I'm sorry."
He really blushed, probably because he nearly called me, son. I caught the slip up, but I tried pretending that I didn't. I tried to stop my eyes from tearing up.
My father completely misunderstood but he meant well. He moved from my mother back to me and hugged me.
"I'm sorry I hurt your wrist," he said quietly in my ear. "I really am. Please don't be mad at me."
"Oh, Dad," I sniffled. "I'm not upset about my sore wrist. You did it to save my life! How could I be upset about that?"
"Then why the tears?" He pulled back to look at my face and wiped away one of my tears with his index finger.
"Because I'm no longer your son. I know you wanted me to be a man, but I couldn't be, not even before this all happened. I was never really a boy."
I sobbed and he held me again, tightly but gently, like a precious jewel. Whispered words of comfort slowly filtered through the sounds of my crying and I eventually heard what he tried to tell me.
"Boy or girl, you're my child and I love you. I admit I was excited about having and raising a son. Naturally I relate better to boys than girls. But being a girl doesn't mean we can't do some things together. It doesn't mean I'm going to ignore you."
"It doesn't?"
"No ... Princess," he told me, pulling back again. "It doesn't."
"Oh, Daddy! I love you." I lunged forward to hug him and cried some more. I was so confused. I still felt a little upset but I also felt happy, and I continued to cry.
"I'll even take you shopping if you like," he suddenly told me.
The three shopping lovers in the family gasped, and I pushed him away to look closely at his face. I had to make sure he wasn't joking.
"Mom!" Lisa shouted. "Dad said the 's' word!"
My father sadly shook his head. "Is that what you think of me? You think I'm not man enough to handle a little shopping?"
"It's not going to be easy," Mom cut in. "She's going to need a lot of new clothes. And I'm sorry to say we've already gone behind your back and bought several outfits for her two days ago."
"Is that where you went? I wondered why you were all so evasive. It's really no big deal. I wish you would've told me."
"Wait a minute," I said. "Are you telling me we kept our shopping a secret from Dad because you thought he wouldn't like us spending money?"
"Yes, of course," Mom said, looking confused. "Why else would we?"
"Oh, Daddy!" I wailed. "Now I'm sorry."
I did it again. I was guilty of being biased against someone, and this time it was my own father. I felt so ashamed. As soon as I could reasonably communicate again, I explained my reaction.
"I ... I thought you'd hate me for being a boy and buying girls clothes," I confessed, my cheeks glowing red.
"You poor child," he told me, hugging me again. "I can never hate you. I don't have it in me. Now please. Stop crying. Okay?"
"Okay." I sniffled but managed to control the flow of tears to a slow drip.
He waited a short time and spoke softly in my ear. "The only thing I'm concerned about is the power shift in the family. It's now three against one. I hope you keep that in mind and take mercy on your poor father in the future."
I giggled at his lame humor, and the dark mood lifted. From that moment on, our family moved forward to enjoy some much needed emotional sunshine. I finally made it to the sunny meadow in my dream that helped me keep my sanity.
***
The ride home wasn't as fun as I'd hoped. I couldn't stand wearing the wig for long periods of time and Lisa kept teasing me about my short hair. She liked to rub her hands over it and mess it up whenever she could. She also kept probing until she found other buttons to push. Sisters! I thought she'd be nicer now that she got the sister that she said she always wanted. No such luck.
"Hey, Marti with an 'i'. What happened to your 'y'?" she suddenly chanted several times in a row, like some demented cheerleader.
"Mom! Make her stop!"
Mother chuckled and turned to look back at us from the front passenger seat. "Lisa, leave your sister alone. She's been through enough."
"But she slept through most of it!" Lisa protested.
"She's had the same nightmare for a year and woke up screaming from it for the past few weeks. Then she went through it for real and fainted from fright. This hasn't been easy for her even when she's been asleep. Now please leave her alone."
My sister sulked but she stopped teasing me, and I sighed happily. It was easy to forgive the teasing and be happy. I just listened to my mother and sister referring to me with feminine pronouns. I was truly a girl.
Sophie had given me such a wonderful gift in exchange for the traumatic reenactment of her death. Helping her ghost would've been reward enough but becoming a girl almost made me wish I could do more. There were probably lots of ghosts that needed help moving on. Perhaps I could find them and help them somehow. It gave me much to think about.
***
"So the scary man was Sophie's father?" I asked as we all grabbed our bags out of the car.
"Yes, Sweetie," Mom answered. "He dragged her outside and threw her over the cliff in a drunken rage."
"Why?!" I stopped and cried. "Why would he do such a thing?!"
Mom dropped her bag to hug me. "Some people are sick. They need help but they don't always get it. Sophie's father killed himself a few years later by jumping off the same cliff. Everyone thought he did it because he was upset about her committing suicide, but it looks like he did it because he was upset with himself for killing her. The whole thing was just one big tragedy."
I sniffled and moved back to look up at my mom. "It's over now though. Isn't it?"
"Yes, honey. I'm sure it is. Sophie thanked us for uncovering the truth and forgave her father just before they faded away together. They both found peace, and I'm sure you won't be having any more nightmares."
"That's good," I said, heaving a sigh of relief. "But I have an even better question. Why me?"
"I'm not sure I can answer that one. I guess it has something to do with your resemblance to Sophie, but who's to say how a ghost thinks. All I know is she has good taste. She picked the right girl for the job. Right?" My mother smiled down at me.
I smiled briefly and then frowned. "Oh. Wait."
"What is it, Sweetie?"
"How are we going to explain me suddenly becoming a girl?"
"We'll manage, Marti. We'll probably have to move and call in a few favors but we'll manage. What matters is that you're happy and safe. We're all one big happy family. Even the ghosts of our ancestors are happy."
Dad and Lisa stood nearby and overheard Mom's last comment. We all shared a nervous laugh over it before going inside the house.
I made it. I was home.
*** The End ***
© 2009 by Terry Volkirch. This work may not be replicated in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder). All Rights Reserved. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental.