2Too Crowded With Ghosts
By Soul
Rated PG for death and some mentions of drugs, but nothing too graphic.
Author's Notes: Story #3, written for the livejournal community 100situations. This one was written a while ago, before Cedric from "Ill" or Lucas and Ozzie from "Burn" had been thought up. This one revolves around Nora, who was very briefly mentioned in "Burn," and introduces 3 new characters - Shelley, Josh, and the ever elusive "him." Expect 97 more of these stories in the future, including an explanation as to how a bunch of British 7-year-olds and some Californian teens tie together.
You used to be beautiful.
When we were younger, spirited and free, you were the most stunning girl in California. You would wear red lipstick, the faint traces of blush, and white eyeshadow while other girls were still experimenting with lip-gloss and glitter. They were jealous of you; you could see it in their eyes when you moved on the dance floor at parties and clubs, like a golden leaf floating on an autumn breeze. Boys would try to talk to you, dance with you, buy you things, but you ignored them like so many annoying houseflies. You were Nora, after all – you danced alone.
This time, the party was at Michelle's house. Her parents were vacationing in Cancun, so she and her boyfriend Josh had decided to take advantage of that. At least forty people were inside Shelley's mansion of a home, and among those forty was Nora. She was wearing a beautiful flowered dress, accessorized with a beaded necklace and an air of sheer sexiness that infiltrated every boy's senses. Even Shelley's ever-so-loyal punk rocker boyfriend had given her a second glance as she walked into the house unaccompanied.
Soon she found where the loud techno music was coming from – it was the foyer in the back of the house. She confidently walked in and weaved her way to the center of the throbbing mass of teens, and began to dance. Her body weaved, bended, and swayed to the rhythm; the strobe lights making her look ethereal. Every single person noticed her, and everyone stopped to gape at her. Nora simply closed her eyes and felt the bass pound in her chest, giving her body a solid backbeat to move to. No one dared approach her for fear of ruining her momentum, and this was to be expected. No one went near Nora when she danced.
However, this party proved to be different from all the others she had graced. For during Shelley's party, a boy came up next to her and began to dance as well.
Now that you have gotten older, you can't dance the way you used to. You don't wear white eyeshadow or sexy dresses anymore, either. Your face has become wrinkled with the passage of time, your body less lithe, your movements sluggish. You hate every minute of being old, and this shows in the frown marks around your mouth and the crow's feet at the corners of your eyes. Arthritis has made its home in your knees, what remains of your teeth are yellow and decaying – you look like death warmed over, and no amount of makeup or surgery can fix that.
When you try to dance, no one notices anymore. This more than anything makes you wish you had died young and beautiful.
At first, Nora didn't notice that someone was with her in the center of the universe that was Shelley's foyer. But when she went to twirl and felt herself being pressed into a warm body that was larger than her own, she definitely noticed.
She whirled around in his grip and demanded to know who he thought he was, but a slow song started to play, and he had already taken her hands in his and began to sway. Nora looked up into his face angrily, but the negativity vanished when her eyes locked with his.
He had the deepest eyes she had ever seen.
And in that instant, Nora fell for him.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you wake up and remember him. Memories of brown eyes boring into yours, ghosts of warm hands touching you, that is all you can imagine, all you can think of at 3 a.m. when all is still save your pounding heart.
Insomnia at seventeen was horrible. Insomnia at eighty-seven is worse.
Occasionally the dreams are shocking in their clarity. You are on the beach, dancing with him, wearing that flowered dress you had once cherished until Shelley had borrowed it and died in it, many years ago. He's wearing jeans, a button-up shirt, and a jacket, the wind blowing his curls in every direction imaginable. The cliffs behind you are beautiful; the two of you are gorgeous. The ocean clawing at the shore is immense in its power; you are greater in your love. Both of you are smiling, but no words are spoken, because no words are needed. You are seventeen and invincible, and the boy holding you will never leave your side. You are Nora, but you don't dance alone anymore.
When you have these dreams, you always wake up with a start, gasping for air as sobs force their way out of your worn and tired throat. You never know why, but you always feel at your worst when your dreams are pleasant.
Throughout the next few days, word spread like a wildfire throughout school. Nora finally found a guy – Nora finally had a boyfriend! Shelley was immensely proud, since the impossible had occurred in her house. She and her usual crowd of giggling cheerleaders dissected what they knew about this mystery man, but he was a complete anomaly. Shelley asked Josh to see if his crowd knew him, but the heavy rockers, druggies, skateboarders, and punks didn't have any idea what his name was or where he came from.
Nora knew that the only topic of conversation at school anymore was her and her new boyfriend, but she didn't care. She was happy for the first time in many, many years. No longer was she alone, drowning in a circle of staring faces. Nora had found the other half of her body, the missing part of her heart, the piece that completed her soul.
Every night they would go out dancing. Even if there were no parties, they would go to the local beach, or the nightclubs, or even one of their homes. She would always wear a dress; he would always wear jeans and a jacket. Whispers followed them wherever they went, but they didn't care. She was lost in him, and she never wanted to be found again.
During the day, you try your best not to think of your childhood.
You have no job, but you do attend bingo games, go to the library, and watch TV – anything to keep you from remembering Shelley and Josh and him.
Of course, your mind never liked to listen to you.
You sit in the fire hall with a bingo board in front of you, remembering Shelley's funeral. You hold a book limply in your hands, remembering Josh's older brother sobbing at the wake. You stare mindlessly at the television screen, remembering his lips against yours and his cold, cold hands.
Perhaps you've lost your mind. Maybe you have dementia, or post-traumatic stress disorder, or some nameless disease that makes ghosts follow you wherever you go, but you're sick of it. Shelley and Josh died seventy years ago, and he was not far behind. You scream at yourself to forget them, you cry and sob and weakly throw small objects at whispering walls, but the voices won't stop, they won't stop, please God make them leave me alone because I'm so so so sorry and scared and I love you please come back.
Please come back.
She heard the news the day after it happened.
Shelley and Josh were dead, and her boyfriend was missing.
Nora didn't know what to do. Her English teacher was standing next to her in the hall, not knowing what to do. What do you say to someone who's just had her world shatter around her? It was a car accident. They died quickly. They had been together. Shelley had been wearing Nora's flowered dress.
When Nora heard this, she began to sob. She knew she sounded conceited, but she didn't care. She never knew what Shelley looked like in the dress, she never saw Shelley wear it, she hadn't been there. And now she was gone. Finished. Dead before she had really lived.
Shelley and Josh were supposed to get married, shatter all high school stereotypes and live happily ever after. But now…now they were bodies under white sheets, and Nora had no one to comfort her, because he was missing. He had disappeared, too, and Nora swore to herself that she would never dance again until he had been found, until he could hold her and tell her it was alright, that it would be okay, that someday soon it wouldn't hurt so much.
Three days later, they did find him; his body was at the bottom of the lake under the bridge where Shelley and Josh had crashed and died. He had been with them; they had been giving him a ride to Nora's house, and the force of the crash had sent him flying out of the car and into the lake.
When Nora heard, she screamed.
You used to be beautiful.
But now…
Now you are alone.
(Final notes: Remember, this was written well before I had anything else planned out, so I don't know if I'll really end all this by killing Shelley, Josh, and him. We shall see.)