Meet Ebony:
In which we meet Ebony Blithe,
Town Freak and awkwardly normal girl,
and learn of her life before she died.
“Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.”
-Unknown
Ebony Blithe was a girl who could one day confidently say that her Death was a hell of a lot
more interesting than her Life. She was not the most popular girl, nor even the least popular (that
would be Bernie Nose-Picker and Designated-Pervert). Some of her hobby’s included reading and
graveyard touring. She had no special talents, unless you counted invisibility a talent. Ebony was very
good at appearing invisible. In retrospect, this could probably be considered her undoing.
Ebony died on a Tuesday. This suited our heroine quite well, as Tuesday was her least
favorite day of the week. Nothing ever happened on Tuesdays. Mondays could be spent cursing
Mondays, Wednesdays were the days she worked at the local book store; Thursday was a day away
from Friday, and Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays could all be spent doing whatever she liked. Yes,
Tuesdays were certainly the unsightly blemish on an otherwise unflawed week.
This particular Tuesday, Ebony had off school due to some teacher’s conference. She woke
earlier than usual, jolted awake from a dream she couldn’t remember. The slender girl was shaking
like a leaf, sweat trickling down the small of her back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Slipping her
legs out from under the heavy comforter, she drifted down the creaking stairs into her small bathroom,
where she promptly threw up.
“Ugh,” Ebony grunted, using a wad of toilet paper to dab at her mouth. Stomach acid stung
the back of her throat, and her eyes watered. Her small bathroom swam in front of her face, the sickly
green color that it was painted not doing much to help her condition. Using a shaking hand to steady
herself on the sink, she rose to her feet.
“Where did that come from?” she thought to herself, still unable to recall the dream, and
not completely sure she wanted too.
Confident that sleep was now a distant desire, Ebony began brushing her teeth, the putrid
taste in her mouth being replaced by a hearty mint. Leaning over and spitting, Ebony raised her eyes
to look at herself carefully in her mirror. A pair of large green eyes stared back at her, confusion
reflected in their vivid depths. Her inky black hair was matted and damp with sweat, though it still lay
flat on her head, a fact that never changed no matter how much mousse or hairspray she subjected it
to. A color that may be compared to the tusks of a prehistoric creature, her skin was even more pale
then usual, though not by much. Ebony sighed and rubbed her eyes, before turning to wrestle with the
shower.
“Are you going to be warm today?” she asked aloud, questioning the falty water heater that
made the pipes shake like they were doing the mambo. She stuck her fingers under the rush of water,
a murmur of pleasure escaping her lips as she felt the water heat up. Today was going to be a good
day.
§ § § § §
Mrs. and Mr. Blithe were both gone by the time Ebony entered the kitchen. A note was left
on the kitchen table, scribbled out on a paper plate. It reminded Ebony that Finch would need to be
picked up from piano class at noon-thirty, and to pick up some cereal on the way home from school.
Most folks in town could agree, Ebony’s parents were not the most intelligent people. Her
father works at a nearby factory, putting the stickers on gallons of milk. Her mother is a clerk at a local
knickknack shop, which only really flourished during tourist season. Neither of them had gone to
collage and they both were convinced that pickles grew on trees. Not to say Ebony didn’t love them.
No, Ebony cared for her parents very much. However, she could get a little exasperated with their antics
at times.
“Mother and Father have left, it would appear.” Ebony turned to see her little brother, Finch,
standing in the kitchen door way. The eight year old resembled Ebony very much, from his midnight
locks to his milky complexion and glistening catlike eyes. A pair of wire rimmed glasses lay perched on
his petite nose however, and his mouth was turned into a stiff frown.
“Yeah,” Ebony said simply, a little uncomfortable with her younger brother.
“ ‘Yeah’ is improper grammer and degrading slang. The proper conjunction would be -”
Finch drifted to a halt when he caught Ebony’s glare. She did not appreciate having a child prodigy for
a younger brother. Ebony raised her eyes to the heavens, pondering, not for the first time, how two
people as dull as Mr. and Mrs. Blithe produced a boy like Finch. Again, she did not have anything
personal against her younger brother. More the fact that he was special and she was not. A sliver of
guilt wormed it’s way inside her, and she resigned to making Finch his favorite breakfast as an
apology.
Once the Egg and Tomato sandwhiches were toasted and served, the atmosphear became
uncomfortable. Besides their looks, Ebony and Finch had little in common. When Finch was born, He
was deemed “the best thing that ever happened to the Blithe family”. He was “special”, an “oracle”,
a “child prodigy”. It was pretty simple what happened. Super baby moved in. Normal girl moved out.
More accurately, up to the attic, which was fine by Ebony. Finch was special, so he got the biggest room.
The best toys. The largest birthday parties. Eventually, Ebony’s birthday stopped being celebrated.
Slowly but surely, she was became “The Girl In The Attic” and Finch was became “Son Who Can Do No
Wrong”. Ebony swallowed down any feelings of bitter annoyance, realizing that it wasn’t Finch’s fault he
was ‘the favorite’. She stood, slipping her plate into the washing machine.
“Don’t forget you have Piano in an hour,” Ebony said. Finch nodded, taking his time with his
sandwich. Ebony ruffled his hair slightly as she passed him to exit out the front door. This was a feeble
attempt to be sisterly by Ebony’s part, one that invoked the rare instance in which the young boy might
roll his eyes. Finch promptly smoothed his locks back into place, and returned to his breakfast, which
he ate with ritual-like thoroughness.
It was a nice day out. Huge, puffy clouds resided in the sky, drifting over the sun and
keeping the temperature at a balmy but cool degree. Ebony biked steadily, grateful that there were no
large hills in between her and her destination. She traveled one handed, the other hand scrolling
through her Ipod. Glancing up at the road periodically, she rolled through the songs, singing softly
under her voice. Slipping the electronic into her pocket, she continued to bike through her small town
until, at last, the graveyard came into view.
Ebony drifted into the dismal place. Inside the dark iron gates, which always seemed to be
moist with condensation, rolling hills lay. They stretched as far as the eye could see, thrown lazily
about, as if placed in a hurry. The hills appeared to be covered in gray grass, peppered as it was with
gravestones and crosses. The whole graveyard seemed to hold it’s breath. Nothing moved over this
dispiriting land. No birds sung a song, nor flitted between the few giant oak trees that were smattered
across the hills. Despite the size of the town, the graveyard was quite large. In fact, the population of
the dead outnumbered the living. It stretched on for acres, going back to the very first settlers of
Eronwood. Ebony continued, hiking until she reached a grouping of headstones that looked unfamiliar.
She sat, smiling softly as the grass tickled her ankles, using her toes to pick off her shoes. A gentle
wind blew through the graveyard, whispering through as if greeting the girl. She could feel a change in
atmosphere, the air seeming to vibrate with energy. Ebony leaned back lazily, turning her head to view
the grave next to her.
Reaching out a finger, Ebony traced the letters on the nearest headstone. It seemed new-
no moss obscured the writing and it was not yet adorned with graffiti.
Here lays Mr. Ernie Mayne
Some could swear he was quite insane
Us, well we’re just glad he’s dead
After he “borrowed” his sister’s head.
Ebony jerked her fingers back, then laughed at her uneasyness. Surely it was just a joke.
Shifting to the side, she allowed her eyes to drift shut, leaning back to let the grass kiss her neck. She
opened up her mind, welcoming the laughter of the wind, the sighs of the mighty oaks, and the
whispers of the clover. Behind her eyelids, a symphony played. Her entire body opened up, its senses
becoming keener and beginning to elucidate. Ebony’s mind took off, taking the place of the missing
birds. In her imagination she rose, high above life. Higher and higher, escape so near…
Sitting up, Ebony froze. From her left, she could hear voices rising. She shuddered as Karen and
Tabby’s shrill giggles stood out among the others. Ebony rose, fumbling to pull on her shoes. She was
sure that she had hidden her bike. How had they found her here? Maybe if she was quiet…
“Well, Well, Well,” drawled a voice, sharp as a knife and much closer than the others, “Look
who it is.” A sharp pain sprung in the back of Ebony’s head as someone yanked her to her feet by her
hair. She bit back a yell, stumbling and slipping. Inverted fury rose in the pit of her stomach - how had
she not heard this person coming? Craning her neck back, she aimed a glare at the male swine who
clenched her locks in his hand. He was new to Karen’s posse, but Ebony had seen him at school. Kevin
Basson was his name. His hair was greasy, his eyes beady and pig like. The boy sneered as he spoke,
making it look like he had consumed something sour.
“Well if it isn’t the little Witch,” Karen smirked as she came into view, her flaming red hair
pulled into a high pony, gum snapping in her mouth. “We found your bike.” The smirk widened and
Ebony resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Ebony could think of about a dozen insults that were not half
as cliché as ‘witch’. If she was going to be bullied, the least the bullies could do was be more creative
with their verbal barbs. Blocking out Karen’s continuing monoloque, she snuck a peak at the boy who
still held her tight. His nose was misshapen, she noted casually.
Ebony could fix that.
She struck quickly, driving her elbow into the boy’s face. She felt a satisfying crunch as
blood spurted from the wound. An animal-like howl erupted from the boy, it’s oddness increased by the
plugged up interference the cascading blood caused. Ebony jerked from his hand and dashed through
the gang, leaping over Ernie Mayne’s headstone.
As Ebony continued to run, she remembered some advice she had once heard on a animal
documentery. The man who was speaking was a kind faced, grandfatherly type, and his words were
spoken warmly and slowly. Dr. Quicke, Ebony recalled randomly. He had reminded the audience, that if
you were ever face to face with a wild animal, not to turn and run, for that awoke a predatory instinct in
the animal and they would give chase.
Ebony wondered in a passing thought if Teenagers might be considered wild animals, for
they were certainly giving chase.
Showing little care for their injured member, the five others took pursuit, shouting
obscenities and threats in Ebony’s direction. Wishing that she had not wandered so far into the
graveyard, Ebony surged forward, determined to not be caught. Cigarette burns, Snake Bites, and
Bloody Knuckles could be the least of her problems. Running lightly, her feet skimmed over the grass,
until it felt as though she were truly flying. Blood pounded in her ears and her heart roared a steady
beat, urging her on. Ebony heaved forward, fierce stubbornness reflected in her eyes. A swell of
triumph lit up inside her as she spotted her bike. As she ran a breathless laugh broke forth, sounding
more like a sickly weeze. Stumbling to a halt, Ebony fumbled to pull her bike up. Allowing herself a
quick glance behind her, Ebony was relieved to find her pursuers a few rows back. Her bully’s were the
kind who were more used to having things brought to them, then running for those things themselves.
However, if Ebony wanted to get away unscathed, she would have no time to stop and catch her breath.
Using her shoulder to shove open the gate, Ebony hopped on one foot, the other being
swung over her bike. The relief from her lead disappeared when she saw six other bikes placed neatly
into the offered bike rack. Ebony groaned, turning and putting her weight into the bikes pedals.
“Hold it, Slime!” a shrill voice snarled, slicing through the air. Ebony did not hold it. Ebony
biked for her life.
Racking her mind for a place to go and hide, our heroine did not slow her course. A place
with lots of people would be good. Perhaps then the beating she would receive would be kinder. Ebony
gave a snort of contempt at that thought. Maybe a place with someone who knew her? Her fathers
factory? Her mother’s shop? No, she would never make it in time. Behind her she could already hear
nearing shouts along with the whir of bike wheels.
“Aha!” Ebony gasped out, having thought of a safe place. She was sure that Finch wouldn’t
mind if she picked him up early, and the piano teacher was also wife to the sherriff. Her bullies, dumb
as they were, would not dare to attack her in front of the only slice of authority they would listen too.
Ebony’s bike shrieked in resistance as she made a sharp turn to the left. Now she was back
into town, weaving past mailboxes and walking residents. A few shouted angrily at her, but she did not
slow to apologize as she normally would. Ebony was close, so close to safety. Karen shout behind her,
alarmingly close, but Ebony couldn’t make out what she was saying. Biting her lip, she surged forward,
sweat trickling down her forehead. The temperature did not seem so cool anymore. Ebony could have
cried in happiness when the piano teacher’s street came into view. She squeezed the hand breaks to
slow down.
Huh.
No breaks.
Ebony pumped the handle furiously, fear bubbling inside her. She recalled what Karen had
said.
“Well if it isn’t the little Witch,” Karen smirked as she came into view, “We found your
bike.”
Mentally, Ebony swore enough to make a sailor blanch. She snarled in fury and turned her
head to gauge how close her horrid predators were.
Never saw the truck coming.
