A Night to Remember

An insecure butterfly cocoons herself in the 2006 Sonata her father gave to her as a birthday present. Twinkling of stars shine on, leading to home, Henry. All the home she needs. Her cracked IPhone screen bears a message from her first love. She ignores the message, quickly adjusting her vehicle to the vicinity of the road. Another message. Tonight's prom night, he told her he didn’t want to attend. Not his scene after all. She peeps glances off the road, A cautious driver at its finest. From breaks between road signs and forming ellipses, she gathers the central theme.

“Movie night, hope it's okay.”

She grimaces slightly. From midnight panics of college decisions to DD obligations she upheld for her Henry, a movie night is nothing but expected, and disappointing.

“Okay” she replies.

A pointed response, one that could lead the recipient throughout a plethora of avenues all of which mean “not okay."

The driveway lays empty, not a single light burns in the idyllic lush landscape. She turns the keys, tired from a long night of cat calls and orders not being received proper by customers. She walks up to the floor mat, heart shaped with of course the phrase “Home is where the Heart is. She laughs a deflective laugh.

Clara tries her best to see levity in the let down of a “Movie Night.” The TV static buzzes like hornets as her hand reaches for the light switch. A newly formed excitement flickers in Clara when she sees her surprise. A satin gown hangs from the coat hanger, pearly bubble gum, a teenage dream. She reads the paper note draped over the prong.

“Put this on, and be the princess to my frog:)”.

She rolls her eyes as a smile prints itself over her rouge face. Her phone vibrates in her pocket. She sees it’s him. Again, he showed her more than enough. She places her phone on the bathroom counter and begins to disrobe. With a flick of a lash and a smack of a lip she looks to the magic mirror, hoping for a fair ruling. With an assiduous glance and a gentle sprucing, she embarks on her journey to a night ever after. When she arrives outside, rose petals line the back door.

She follows the scented trail and sees him standing at the edge of the pond deck. Moon jars glow orbs of candlelight as though they were cupped dragonflies. Clara meets Henry’s gaze, an overwhelming flight of wings sent for takeoff in her abdomen.

The once massive void absorbing her essence, just one blessing closer to it, sealing shut for good. Her glasses are a touch too foggy for her comfort. One must remain composed in the face of vulnerability. May she dare say she loved this boy? A word riddled in her life of pain, heartache, resentment and loneliness.

“You really outdid yourself this time haven’t you ya dork.”

Her wall of cement crumbles to bits as he reaches for her arm. She buys into the safety he provides, finally beginning to let go.

“You didn’t think yours truly, Henry Makesville would be so lame as to suggest that our last chance at prom we should spend watching reruns of “Friends?”

Clara arches her head back, staring up at her knight in a rental tux from Men's Wearhouse off Woodview.

“Well you know I love that show.”

She brings her toes to the floor boards, scuffing her All-Star caps. They kiss with a tender closeness.

“But I’m happy you reconsidered.”

She ruffles Henry’s coiffed chocolate mane.

“Hey, dude watch it. It took me an hour to get that hair right.”

“Oh well I’m so sorry Miss America.”

The two laugh a familiar laugh. Henry brings his girl close to his body. She feels cold, like a puppy left in the elements.

“Babe you’re freezing.”

He takes his suit coat off his back, wrapping her like a burrito. The fit is clownish as the sleeves drape over her hands like slinkies. They stay in this moment, the cool air a subtle cue to hold one another tighter, a magnetism pulled by destiny.

“You know, at prom, the one thing that people do...is dance.”

Clara nestles her head in Henry's stomach.

“Well what song do you have in mind to dance too?”

Henry ponders for the right wording.

“Do you remember Mrs. Baker’s freshman year?”

“Yeah what about it?”

“You remember what Hailey Jacobson played to audition for the Jazz band?”

“Lol no, why would I remember that?”

They sway in the shadow of inexperienced adulthood.

“I do, I remember a girl sitting in the corner of the room, with earphones on to shut out the world, and approximately 500 sharpies in her pencil bag at all times. And she wore a Hoops and Yoyo greetings card T-shirt, which was entirely too big. But most of all about the day, I remember a girl who looked at me, gave me a smile and asked if I wanted my hand held because I looked like I was having a “long” day.”

Clara props her head to the heavens. The journey they have been on, from the friendship, to the nights crying by the bedside, to the devastation of a loved one passing. This relationship truly stood the test of time.

“You really want to dance to that song?”

“There’s no one I’d rather dance to it with.”

With that, Henry raises the remote, syncing the stereo to the play button. In slow harmony, the lovers are blessed with the soulful vibrato of The King. They tune into each other's love. A tender passion and an authentic power unable to be of any false construction. As they burn bright with passion, a buzzing phone erupts with a valley of missed calls and texts. A relentless bombardment of obscure messages overtook the cellular device. Suddenly, the vibration ceased to an icy conclusion.

Entranced, the lovely couple don’t see the looming high schooler stare from the rose pedals. He is drenched, holding a wooden handle. We see his back, dropping the ax head to the ground, before dragging the tool towards the water. Clara Daniels is moments away from a night she will never forget.

A subtle scent wafts through the soothing May night. It’s familiar, like hand-me-down vehicles, or screwdrivers left in rain. The scent soon becomes overwhelming when a lengthy shadow looms over the warm couple. Clara nestles her head into Henry’s stomach. Her partner, twice the size. Her marbles roll over, dreaming of the fairy tale fantasy all girls dream of. She hears the words,

“I’ll never let you go again.”

It seems comforting in theory, but something is off about the promise. Henry’s arms jerk Clara’s down to her sides. She looks down at them. They sway like swings with the smallest hint of vigor. He doesn’t hold her now, quite the opposite as she feels the bulk of his weight press against her frame build.

“Baby you okay?”

A raindrop trickles above her. Its scent is unmistakable. Rust. She looks up at her man to see shimmering sapphires bulge from Henry's face. His mouth hangs open as he’s washed in his own blood. An ax blade lays embedded in the boy's skull until a sickening “SHLICKK!” The blade is pulled back as though stuck in wood.

Henry falls to his knees meeting the gaze of a frozen Clara. He tilts his head with the slightest of movements before slumping over, landing on the floor, Dead.

In a powerful display of emotion, Clara screams in a shrill blood curdler, one that's fit for eternal damnation. Through sobs, she reaches for her Henry’s hand before the blade lowers itself on the corpse's wrist, cleanly chopping the hand from its arm. Clara looks at the assailant, hair drippy, as though spilled oil. His tuxedo is freshly ironed, yet old. As though bought from a different decade.

His eyes are not of this world. A phantom, fitting for a conjured apparition. He lowers the blade to the bench side of the deck and fixates his eyes on her.

“Clara...Clara my love, why didn’t you call me back?”

His voice is manic, shaking with earnest curiosity. Clara looks to Henry.

“Plip Plop, Plip Plop.”

The waters run red with his blood, the surface dances with intense rhythm.

“Riley...Riley why are you here? I thought you moved in with your dad after…”

“AFTER WHAT!!”

His shaky tone dials to intense rage.

“After you left me even though I never left you!” “After your mom was diagnosed with breast cancer who was the one who drove you to all her appointments?”

Riley slightly urches himself to the terrified girl. Clara fumbles back, her laces propelling her to stumble until quickly regaining her composure.

“After your asshole of a brother tried to bring his burnout drifters to your room, who was the one who stopped them?!”

Clara’s lips quiver, she scrambles for words.

“Say something Clara!” “I know you can talk.”

He laces his fingers around the ax handle. The blade drags through Henry’s essence. Streaks of crimson paint the floorboards, leading to the girl in the suit coat. Clara looks behind her, the once broad pond deck narrows into a fine strip of plank wood. Riley is now a mere ten feet from Clara.

“Riley, I’m so sorry things ended the way it did.” “I just needed space, and I just couldn’t.”

“Be with me anymore?” “Oh my love, you don’t have to worry about needing space now.” “We’ll have all the time in the world to work through our demons.”

He pockets a bottle, seemingly for medication and tosses it to Clara. It rolls from her hands until she frantically grabs at prescription stopping it from rolling to the water. She turns to the label. A medication for anxiety and minute psychosis. She takes a feel for the dosage. No rattle sounds are made, the bottle lays empty.

“Riley, why are you showing me this?” “What happened to all these pills…”

Riley lowers his brows to that of a malevolent expression.

Clara drops the bottle.

“Please don’t tell me.”

“In one hour I start over, in one hour I will finally be suspended from this world's evils and misfortune."

Clara now inches from the end of the deck, her heels floating as though weightless.

“And you’re coming with me.”

After a brief standoff, the ax races towards Clara’s direction. She turns her body completely, plunging in the black shadows. Clara opens her eyes seeing only brief splotches of light cascaded by the hanging moon. She flails her arms, finding her way to the bottoms of the wooden structure. As her head resurfaces, she looks through the floorboards. Through the slits of the frame, two eyes watch down at her. They are Henry's, the once crystal hue muted to a hazy smoke.

Clara grabs her mouth, clenching her screams from breaking out of her vocal cords. She sees Riley panting, walking back and forth above her as though lost.

“Clara, come on out Clara!”

Silence is met with an explosion of emotions.

“Clara get out here or I’ll torch your Goddamn house down!”

His stability slipping, Clara submerges her body in the pond, shivering from the temperature. After what seems like eternity, Riley heads for the house. The wood squeaks from the blood and swampy water. Clara lets out a pressing exhale. She doggy paddles to Henry’s arm, drooping from above. Her fingertips meet his. They’re cold and foreign now, rigor mortis bringing truth to the macabre events transpiring on their last night of pure unyielded bliss. She takes his suit coat off and rests the collar in his hand. Finally, after intense weeping, she peeps her head from the pond deck and heads for the shoreline.

As though ripped from the universe, a massive force propels her body to the deck, gripping at her hair. Her unbridled screams are the only matched by the propensity of Riley’s determination to clip her wings.

For good.

Riley drags his victim to the end of the deck. Clara squirms, ripping at his hands. Desperate to unlatch his hydraulic grip. He slams her body on the boards, her head bobbing from the intensity of the impact.

“You’re okay now love. It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Riley please, please!” “You don’t have to do this!”

His ax positions itself for its purpose.

“This is only way we can be together again, like we used to talk about.”

“Riley this isn’t what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean Clara Nadine Daniels?” “What exactly did you intend to express?”

Clara’s gaze lays fixed on his blade, this being is not human, something much darker.

“Did you not love me?”

Clara responds by sobbing.

“Well!?” “Did you not love me Clara!”

She barks at him, breaking the final straw.

“No I never loved you, I hated you more than anything.” “I prayed to God you would leave and never come back!” “I hope you burn in Hell!!!”

A vomiting of pent up aggression leaves Clara empty. Riley soaks it all in, until making his decision.

“Well Honey, that’s just hilarious isn’t it.”

He quickly starts to chuckle, then joyfully laugh until he can barely contain himself as though mad with laughter.

“Well Clara you outdid yourself now haven’t ya.” “You don’t love me, that’s fine.” “I don’t love you either then.” “In fact there’s only one place where cheating whores like you should go.”

Riley quickly turns around and raises the blade. Clara screams, preparing for impact when a flash zips through the air. Clara opens her eyes, scanning for ax wounds. When nothing is found, she looks to her attackers neck, gurgling with sticky red sputum. Riley drops the ax as men in blue sprint for their location. Riley falls to his knees, looking up at his failed conquest.

Clara rises to her feet staring down at him.

“Looks like this whore has other plans in mind."

He sways from the deck, crashing in the murky blackness.

It’s silent now, the police, the sirens even the pounding in her brain seems muted. Henry’s eyes lay open, hauntingly transparent. A blaring reminder of what a failure Clara came out to be. This was her fault, and no one else's, not even Riley. She crouches down to Henry’s body and brought the suit coat over his shoulders. She runs her fingers through his hair, easy and smooth.

“Thank you for keeping me warm all these years.”

A cop walks to the back of her, visibly cautious. His mustache was full and seemingly Italian.

“Ms. Daniels, my names Deputy Callablancis we got a call from a Roger Fairbanks. He told us about his son's recent criminal and mental history, and that he was heading here to your home. I’m so sorry we got here as late as we did.”

Clara is slow to respond. Finally with a monotone voice, Clara fills the space.

“Thank you Deputy Callablancis.”

“Would you like to come with me, we can bring you somewhere safe.”

Clara obliges, getting up on her feet unassisted, never shivering once.

The beginning, for a new life. Fully transformed.