I'm Keeping it Light

by Mercedes M. Yardley
free horror fiction

Keep it light, you say.

Keep it light? You want a story about death. You want me to write something about a girl that lived, but not for very long, and died, and it was tragic. What do you mean, “keep it light”?

Keep it light, you say again.

Okay, so here it goes. Once upon a time, there was a dead girl.

She didn’t start out dead, you tell me. Revise that.

All right. Once upon a time there was a dead girl, but she was technically alive before she was dead. She could eat. She could breathe. She loved things and people, and they loved her, but really that wasn’t good enough, now was it? Not good enough to keep her alive.

You’re getting bitter. Watch it, you tell me.

I take a deep breath. I start over.

Once upon a time—

You already said that part, you say. And really, I could kill you. I just could. And the irony of that almost makes me smile, but not quite, so I just say:

In the beginning, there was—

I don’t like that at all, you say, and you’re nearly shouting now.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Let me try this one more time.

Do it right, you warn me.

I look you dead in the eyes, and I say, There was a girl, and she was beautiful. She was born and she lived and then she died, and it was unfair. Nobody could believe it, and we all said things that were meant to be comforting, like ‘it must be her time’ and ‘at least we were able to enjoy her, if only briefly’. But I loved this girl, and I hoped that she loved me, and even if I had to do crazy, horrible things to pass over and be with her, I would do it. And I did, and my family cried, but here I am, and she and I will be together forever. And we lived—

Happily ever after, you say.

Yes. Happily ever after.

I like that story, you tell me. You snuggle up to me, and I close my eyes and try to forget about this place, the thing that I had to do to be here.

I’m glad you’re here, you say to me. I was lonely without you.

I was lonely without you, too, but somehow that doesn’t really seem like the thing for me to say anymore.

_____


Mercedes M. Yardley writes on a laptop that is undeniably broken. She has a special affinity for sharks and red lipstick, (but not sharks in red lipstick) and always covers her eyes during the gory parts. You can see a list of publishing credits at http://www.abrokenlaptop.wordpress.com/.