Post/Life/Script

Post/Life/Script

Chapter 1: Grave Ideas

The contest invitation was linked to an anonymous email. Twenty-thousand-dollar prize money for a fictional story about something that terrifies you. Simple enough, all Levi needed was a day to sit and meander through a grave of memories, ideas and concepts he never executed, in hopes of coming up with something. It would be that simple if not for that one glooming thing. There’s a block and it’s angry, insipid but seen and it cast a great shadow over him. It taps at the base of his senses causing discomfort on every level. It makes it difficult to put words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs. Everything’s fragmented and distorted. The weight is agonizing.

Don’t think about anything else and just write. His inner monologue changed voices, it was no longer his, but hers.

Across his desk littered with loose sheets of paper, sketches, half complete efforts and abandoned ideas sits a picture. It’s black and white, and her smile is infectious. She stares back at him forever frozen in that gallant moment. That was the night they went out for a movie, after playing scary pranks on one another, and then had some chocolate-dipped ice cream balls; a mom and son tradition that stood the test of time, until she couldn’t. She was young still.

He lies the picture down flat. He can’t stomach the guilt; a couple months is too soon. He’s not sure he could ever forgive himself for being the cause.

“Maybe the cabin would serve me better on this one, mom.”

Chapter 2: All ye’ who enter…

The trees around him swallowed the night sky, he had been driving for more than a few hours. His eyes weren’t heavy, but his mind was. He’d arrive at the cabin in a couple hours and hoped that it would allow for the cleansing he needed to create something, anything.

Twenty thousand sounded good, he spent so much energy and resources looking for a way to help mom he never once stopped to question how much of his savings had gone into her medical bills. She never asked for help, and she never would have. He didn’t care, that woman deserved better, and he made sure she knew that in her final moments.

He pulled over to the side of the road, the moon howled back, the trees made like fingertips reaching into the sky.

Who sent that email?

The thought didn’t bother him too much, it’s money and he needed a creative outlet. This was a good push.

“Mom, would you hate me if I didn’t write again?” He couldn’t be more split if he surgically carved himself down the middle. He would’ve finished his thoughts if it hadn’t been for the unexpected thud on the roof of his car.

Startled and on edge, he stares up at his car ceiling.

“Nope!” he exclaimed to himself, he places his hand on the shifter, puts it in reverse and steps on the gas. A pair of large wings shoot outward and a creature lands on the road infront of him; claws sharp, its black eyes shimmering like white marbles from the car’s headlight.

It was an owl, a brown Barn owl. It was his mom’s favorite; she had a thing for them. She once told Levi that on the day she was discharged from the hospital after giving birth, an owl landed on the middle of the road. She considered them her guardian angels ever since.

Levi tames his thoughts, and he stares at his nocturnal companion. His eyelids are heavy with a need to cry but he clenches his jaws in response, no, not tonight.

“Okay, mom,” it may have been nothing, but he decided to make it something.

He set off to write a story.

Chapter 3: Windows and Spines

“Well son, you all set for your stay?” Mr. Besten and his wife Magdalena stood in the kitchen space, they’re the cabin owners. They’re always renting out their cabin to families. But from all the visitors that come through they grew most fond of Levi and his mom. They would visit North Carolina for Halloween, every year for the last 7 years – the atmosphere, the omnipresence of it all, just the way they liked it. Mr. and Mrs. Beston were always there to personally hand them the keys.

“No Mr. Besten, I have everything I need, really. You guys do too much for us,” he notices he just included his mom in that statement. He pauses. Magdalena approaches him, sweet old lady, silver bangs draped over her wrinkled forehead, “you know, your mom, she’d be so proud that you’re still going. I’m sure whatever this story is you’re working on, she’s reading as you type,” her hand grips Levi’s, shaky but firm, “we can’t wait to read it, honey.” Her smile is so warm, you swore snow melted outside.

“You need anything, you give us a holler, ya’ hear?” Mr. Besten bellows.

“Yes, Mr. Beston, thank you.”

Night has fallen once again, and the cold air finds ways to seep through the cracks in the cabin’s wood. Levi sets a fire and sits at the little work desk where a window gives sight to a thousand blinking eyes in the sky. He peers out blankly, a heavy weight on both corners of his lips, no ideas, blank. The email said to write about something that terrified him, and yet the worst had already happened – he felt fearless, or was it careless?

His laptop screen hums silently.

A small clicking sound catches his attention. There’s a drawer seemingly ajar, and inside what seems like a little black book; worn, frayed and bruised.

He reaches for it, the touch unlocking a hidden memory from his childhood. His first notebook, the first one he ever wrote any ideas in, even some that went nowhere but soiled the seeds of his need to tell stories. He flips through the pages; bitter admiration builds on his nostrils with ever scribble he reads. He smiles as he reads an insert he wrote almost fifteen years ago. Some crap about superheroes dedicated to fighting a coven of witches.

“Mom, you kept this. All this time,” in that moment he felt as if she would answer. Nothing. He closes the notebook and presses it to his chest.

If only he flipped to the last page of the notebook…

Chapter 4: The Inspiration

A tap wakes him up from his slumber.

TAP…

…

…

TAP…

It’s coming from the window infront of his desk.

…TAP…

…

The cold wood kisses his feet as he lunges out of the bed. He sees a silhouette half hidden behind the wall, the other peering through the window. The moon light kisses the edges of the stranger’s shoulders. He isn’t moving.

“Dude, a cabin is creepy enough, get off of my property!” Levi leans but doesn’t move any closer. He’s playing a game of don’t blink with someone who seemingly doesn’t have any eyes from where he’s standing.

Levi feels about twenty pounds lighter, his gut is on fire and his feet are itching – the door to the entrance is right next to the window and he can’t remember locking it.

“Levi, don’t do it,” he whispers to himself, “Don’t.” But as he utters that single word, he’s already darting toward the door. Eight feet never felt so far. Almost instantly, the silhouette at the window mirrors Levi’s movements and disappears behind the wall in the direction of the door.

Levi turns the lock, securing the door and backpedals himself against the kitchen counter. He turns around toward the light switch but thinks twice. If his vision is limited, so must the stranger’s. He began to feel around for his phone, the moon traced lines of light all around the cabin, enough to see something. But he couldn’t find it. The door handle creaks and jitters, the stranger’s at the door and he won’t let up. Levi tries for the window opposite the bed. He yanks violently, but the ice outside has sealed it shut

“Come on!” He grunts, exasperation filling his lungs. “Give, give, you’re a window not a Mayan temple gate!” He’s about to break it, until…

A dozen or so silhouettes emerge from the trees. He’s been surrounded. They all watch, standing still among the whispers of the cold air and the stretching and bending of the trees. Everything Is talking. Everything is alive. Immediately he runs over to the bathroom, locks the door and waits…

…for anything to happen.

Chapter 5: Cosmic Secret

Three months later

Mr. Beston pours a hot cup of tea for his lovely lady; it’s early morning and the bird won’t stop harmonizing.

“Did he win?” Mr. Bellows ask, as he cleans his beard off from drinking his tea like a barbarian.

“What do you think honey?” Magdalena smirks, crow’s feet stretching from the corner of her eyes. She turns the laptop toward her husband, the article reads:

1ST PLACE WINNER

LEVI CASPIEN

FOR OUTSTANDING SHORT ON “WHAT SCARES YOU?”

The Beston’s smile at one another. They’re proud, not just of Levi but of themselves for following through with the instructions left by Levi’s mom, the one in her will. Email him the contest, give him the scare of his life and get him writing. One final prank from his best friend, his mom.

“Ms. Caspian sure had a sick sense of humor, how’d she’d know a little inspiration would get him writing like that?”

His old lady grins, winks, sips her tea and says, “a mother always knows best.”

Epilogue: The Last Page of the Black Notebook

Dear Levi,

I just want you to know if I had one wish for you, it’s that in my absence you write more than you ever have. You gave me your time, your effort, and your love – but now it’s your time. These strokes took some bits from me, but you always gave them right back. It wasn’t your fault. Write, write always, write often. I’ll see it all from where I’ll be standing.

Love, Mom.

Levi always felt guilty, always being so focused on his writing, especially during his parent’s split. She got bad, the strokes took so much from her, until it took all of her. The stress was unbearable, and in the last minutes he finally noticed – it had been too late. But she had her final laugh, and she knew he’d stop writing, she knew he’d bear the guilt. She knew him better than any mom could know their kid. That plan – he smiles as he thinks about it. Getting the Bestons, and some of their friends to ignite in him a sense of wonder.

“Even when you’re not here, you’re present. I love you, mom.”

The end