Published July 8, 2007
Memories
Two empty black sockets stared into Eva’s frightened eyes.
The game had started like any other. After ten minutes of arguing over who was “it” first, Eva’s paper had lost to Tommy’s scissors, and Eva was the first designated seeker.
Even though she wasn’t supposed to peek, Eva had giggled from behind her spread-apart fingers as she saw Tommy dash off in the direction of Applecreek Mountain.
Although its appearance was pleasant enough, it was rumored that the ghost of an Indian mother, who had been swept away with her twin boy and girl babies in a flash flood in 1836, haunted the lower caves by night.
Now, teetering on a crumbling rock, Eva stared into the weathered skull lodged into a barely visible crevice in the wall of the cave.
“You can come out now!” she called. Her voice echoed among the rocks as her bright blue eyes darted about her, searching for any trace of movement.
“I-I don’ like it no more, Tommy,” she yelled. “You win, ‘kay? I give up, and you can even have my extra Babe Ruth card if you come out and stop scarin’ me. I ‘ready told you I don’ like it.” Plopping down on the jagged bottom of the cave, she leaned against the rock just under the skull and sucked her thumb.
Tommy would have told her to quit being a baby. “Only losers suck their thumbs,” he teased. “One time, my auntie knowed this guy who didn’t stop sucking his thumb 'til he was twenty! She told me that there ain’t gonna be no girls who marry a growed up baby like him!”
“Well, I’ll marry a boy whether he sucks his thumb or not,” Eva retorted. “And he’ll be a million times nicer than you, Tommy Frain!”
“Girls are stupid,” he mumbled, snatching up a rock and throwing it as far as his seven year old arm would allow.
“Nuh uh,” Eva squealed as she tackled him. “Boys are stupider!”
Eva would have given just about anything now, even her new Lou Gehrig card, to see Tommy’s auburn curls pop out from some corner, accompanied by a front-two-teeth-missing grin and war whoops.
Suddenly, a horrible stench filled Eva’s nostrils. “What is that?” she said, wrinkling her nose and peeking at the skull above her.
A light green fog wafted its way out of the skull's sockets and vanished lazily a few feet higher. A jackdaw zoomed out of the right eye socket, cawed loudly, and plummeted to the ground in a heap.
“T-Tommy,” she stuttered. “I’m gonna go now. I-I don’t like it here.”
She edged away from the rock, her eyes glued on the skull.
A hand clamped over her mouth. Eva tried to scream, but her attempts were muffled by the bony fingers and her own suddenly clogged throat.
“Don’t worry, sweet,” a voice hissed. “You’ll be joining your brother very soon.”
Eva’s eyes unwillingly darted to the skull again. It was closer…and closer. She waved her arms frantically, but the voice just cackled. “No worries, dear,” it whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”
The skull was only a few inches away now. The sockets closed in on her, filling her entire being.
What was Tommy doing there? And who was holding him?
The fog snaked its way around her body, caressing her senses to oblivion. It rocked her back and forth, back and forth, like a lullaby in a forgotten memory.
The thing holding Tommy shifted him to one arm and glided over to her. “Poor baby,” she cooed, her voice strangely soothing Eva’s nerves. “No more water will sweep down on us. Mama’s here now. Come to me, precious.”
“No,” Eva said thickly. “You’re…you’re not my mama. My mama is at home righ’ now, makin’ supper.” She felt so…sleepy.
“Don’t worry,” the voice hissed behind her. “Go on.”
Eva turned to face the voice. Senses jerking awake, she screamed when she saw what was behind her.
A child stood there sucking her thumb.
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not possible.”
“Ah, my dear, but it is,” the voice echoed inside her head.
“Who…what are you?” Eva asked, her voice trembling.
The child turned her bright blue eyes to the wispy figure grasping a little boy with auburn curls.
“Surely you know,” the figure replied, gliding over closer to Eva. “You can’t have forgotten so soon.”
“But…the child. It’s me!” she squeaked. “Me when I was seven years old!”
“Precisely,” the figure replied. “Now do you remember?”
“Y-yes,” Eva whispered, “but how is it possible?”
“It isn’t.” The figure trailed a finger over the child’s arm.
“Then how am I my-myself,” she gulped, “in two different times?”
“You’re not. Time is of no essence here.” The figured rapidly closed the distance between them. “Welcome to the world of memories.”
________
I wrote this for the Quill Quotes #3 contest for La Plume Noire based on the quote by Vladimir Nabokov, "I confess, I do not believe in time."
Question: does anyone think it would be creepier without the dream part? Please, tell me which would be better. For now, I remain indecisive. *chews nails*
EDIT: Dream has been eliminated.
Don't even ask where I got the idea.
Points:
Time spent:
IP address:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
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140,859 Literary Works • 673,694 Reviews
... whoa...
That was... awesome. I loved it. You deserve a... dancing elephant. here, take this one => 
I loved it, but i was a little confused when she was looking at Tommy being held. I think you need to describe the stench more, the transition into whatever that was after it. You freaked me out. Amazing job at that, it takes a lot to do that. Keep it up, I'd love to read more of this. Thanks!
Talk about creepy squared. Some spots are slightly unclear, but I love it. It seems a little like it was originally a much longer story that parts were cut out of, but never really corrected. It's good but you should try to polish it a little more. I like it.
Although "sucked" is (possibly) grammatically correct in the. . . seventh paragraph (oh, you should do something about the paragraph setup), I believe you change it to "suck." You should do something about the dialog. When beginning a new splurge/dash of dialog (I don't know what word/phrase to use., I believe you're supposed to have it as its own paragraph (correct me if I'm wrong).
As to the story, absolutely. . . twisted and mildly disturbing. I would say "disturbing," "greatly disturbing," or something more if I thought you couldn't do any better, but I know that's not the case. You seem to be very knowledgable and industrious about grammar and writing (better than myself).
I love the dialog.
in on?
There...where?
this piece is too short to repeat physical features too often - it comes off as an annoyance rather than aiding us in remembering what the characters look like.
The ending confused me and seemed rushed - or something. because they had dialog, but no action or descriptions so I didn't get it. They did, but I didn't. What was she seeing?
Also, in the beginning you over use her name, try switching from name, her, name, her, name, her. I tend to do that, if at all possible.
Wasn't bad
Awesome dear =]
If it's a horror story, it doesn't need to make sense. Lord of the Rings makes absolutely no sense to me, and it's sold millions of copies.
Thank you kitty!!!! I knew there was something not right with that passage! I couldn't for the life of me think of what the phrase was...you rock!
All right, let me pose another question. Does this make sense with it not being a dream?
A very interesting concept. It got a little confusing at the end but then I suppose it's supposed to be like that. Just a few suggestions. First of all, I think the girl gives up too easily when they're playing hide and seek. I know she's only young but she should make at least some attempt to look for Tommy before she gives in. Then, in this part -
Suddenly, a horrible stench filled Eva’s nostrils. “What is that?” she said, screwing up her nostrils and peeking at the skull above her.
-you use nostrils twice. Perhaps replace 'screwing up her nostrils' with 'wrinkling her nose' or 'pinching her nose.' Just something a little different.
It's good though. A touch creepy, quite original and fits the quote so overall, a nice piece of work.
Thanks guys! I'll work on incorporating the changes, and I'd definitely like to hear any more input anyone has! Tank you, tank you again! *does Sebastian bow*
Oh, freaky.
Very freaky. I found this bit odd, though:
How could she see Tommy? In the skull's eye sockets? In the green fog?
If I got this right, then the child that she saw was herself? And what was the thing holding her? And the wispy figure holding Tommy? Sorry, but the bit at the end with two different people was confusing. I thought at first the child was the Indian one who drowned with its mother. And it seemed that Eva was seven years old when she found the skull, but then you say she wasn't.
My density didn't dilute my enjoyment of this though.
Feel the chills creep up....
How old was the girl? I thought she was younger than seven...but I guess I was wrong. It just kind-of confuzed me unitl the story wasn't scary anymore.
Good writing though!
Keep up the good work!
-JC
Yeah, I think it'd be a lot better without the dream...kind of a cheap plot twist, if you ask me. ^_~ A lot easier just to scrap it, right?
Hey, Wiggy!
Ooh, very scary- though I do love scary stories. They're grand. I've been kind of on a King short story binge lately, and they're so yummy...
Surprisingly, I did like the dialogue, even though it was spelled phonetically and all that jazz. Usually I don't, but this story allows for it- it kind of adds to the weirdness. If anything, don't say 'feller', but I think the rest of it'll work just fine. ^_^
A few things to ramble about:
THE SKULL: Because it was so early into the story when it was introduced, I didn't think that we were talking about an actual skull. I thought it was more like in that Pooh Bear movie where they go into Skull Cave or whatever, and it frightens everyone half to death. As much as we love Pooh Bear, it's not nice to copy his ideas.
But! Later I found that I was wrong, and it was indeed a human skull...but since people aren't going to to expect that, I expect from you a bit more description, just so we're not left wondering.
DATES: I wasn't sure if this was set earlier than the present- it had kind of a post-War Appalachia feel to it, though it could just be my overly-sensitive nerdiness- but I really don't like the use of dates in a story, unless you're in the POV of a character who is obsessed with dates and all that jazz. If you're writing about two little kids, they probably wouldn't know it exactly- it'd just be "a long long time ago" or "in the last century". Numbers have a hard feel to them, and usually the goal of the prose writer is for softer, more flowy things that don't detract from everything else. So!
Avoid using numbers, and put in something vaguer. (If that's a word...XD)
___
Overall, a very lovely story, Wiggy! Very creepy...as usual, feel free to PM me if you've got any questions or want me to take a look at something else.
That was so creepy. I am so wishing I didn't read that. I want to eat a tub of ice-cream, a block of chocolate and read a very long book now. Thanks a lot, I think you just scared me to death!