Spectral Tales

by Jamie Campbell, Sarah Dalton, Susan Fodor, Katie French, M. A. George, Sutton Shields, Ariele Sieling, & H. S. Stone

  I glared at the back of Kurt's head, sending negative energy toward him. How dare he sit in church knowing what he had done? I hoped there was hell for that little maggot. I didn't care if he was scared of going to jail, he could have said he was distracted, he could have said anything that didn't mean victim blaming. Kurt glanced around; I hoped he felt the full weight of my disgust bearing down on him.

  The sun shone through the stain-glassed window depicting Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane at the front of the church. It left a rainbow of light in front of me.

  In times gone by the pastor had mentioned God's throne being surrounded by a rainbow of light. Maybe the reason I was stuck in limbo was because I hadn't forgiven Kurt or that I couldn't let go of my family? Was heaven worth giving up for petty revenge? Was there really anything I could do in my current state? All the maybes made my head ache.

  My eyes traced the edges of the light rainbow on the carpet. I must have seen that pattern thousands of times sitting with my parents, but I didn't remember it. I didn't remember much of anything since the accident. My memories faded like the first snows of winter, swallowed by the ground never to be seen again. Perhaps heaven was forgetting, and moving on. I closed my eyes. I love you Mom, Dad and even Chloe. I forgive you Kurt and Junior, may God bring you the justice you deserve.

  Warmth filled my legs. I smiled. Time to go home.

  The minister's words filtered into my brain as I waited to cross over.

  "Ecclesiastes 9:5 says, 'For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing.' The dead are dead. They are in dreamless sleep waiting for Jesus to return. There were two choices in the Garden of Eden, death or life. Not eternal torment or eternal pleasure. Death or life. No ghosts. No immortal soul. Death or life. You're either dead or alive. If you know something my friend, then you are not dead. So you better get busy living."

  I opened my eyes.

  My legs were still warm, the sunlight from the stain-glassed window had moved to my lap. I was not going anywhere. This was not limbo, or a test for me to let go of earth.

  A crotchet blanket mom had made me as a child covered my lap. I couldn't move or feel my legs or arms or any part of my body. My eyes flicked around the church frantically, till they rested on my limp legs. Craaaaap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Sorry God for cussing in church. Crap. I'm not dead. I am very much alive, but I am trapped in my body. Please God, help me.

  ***

  Now that I saw my life clearly, I wanted to return to the haze of the post-accident brain injury. Thinking I was a ghost was easier to deal with than knowing mom was sponge bathing me everyday and sticking me with intravenous nutrition.

  Memories from after the accident returned in flashes. Spoiler alert: my life sucked. The ambulance officers revived me, but I was declared brain dead. Dad wanted to pull the plug, but mom refused. Now she was the permanent caregiver to an eighteen-year-old vegetable. I don't know if I want to thank mom or slap her. I can't move, and I'm angry. So angry that I didn't know how my frail immobile body contained it.

  Mom entered my room in the morning and bathed me before moving me into the wheelchair and inserting my feeding tube. She wheeled me into the kitchen and ate breakfast with me-she would eat and I would sit staring at the wall skewiff. My neck didn't hold my head upright; the world was always on a weird angle.

  My days were spent running errands with mom, or once a month my sister would take me to school to sit with my friends. Mom insisted the socialization was good for me; maybe it was good for Kurt to see the consequences of his actions.

  Over her breakfast smoothie Mom rambled at me. "So it's been fifteen days since we started the cannabis oil. I don't know if it's making any difference. I mean you look ?" She looked at me tilting her head at the same angle as mine. "Do you feel any different?"

  I blinked, or at least I tried to, but by the time I managed to close and open my eyes mom was staring at the seat across the table from her. "You know there's no reason you can't walk, no spinal cord damage, just a brain injury, well a pretty serious brain injury. The swelling has all but gone now, but there's no brain activity or not enough to show up on the scans ? There must be some brain activity for you to breath and blink ? I wish scientists would do proper research on cannabis oil, I don't even know if I'm getting the dosage right ? " Her voice was tight as she shook her head, causing her blazing red hair to dance around her face. She sipped her smoothie. "The doctors said you'll never recover. It'll take a miracle." She mimicked whoever said it. Mom smiled at me conspiring. "Lucky I believe in miracles."

  ***

  I'd been vegetating for almost eighteen months. From my estimation I had twenty-seven days before the next time mom forced Chloe to take me to school again. If my calculations were correct, it would be the second-to-last lunch before graduation.

  I had to get up and move.

  A spring breeze blew through the window carrying the scent of flowers. The sweetness of it almost brought me to tears. With my senses slowly returning I had to do some training. I practiced blinking on command. Blink, blink, blink. It was easier than I thought it would be.

  Mom entered my room. "Good morning sleepy head," she announced with forced enthusiasm. Since my mind had returned, I noticed mom's speech was always forced, her smile contrived. "It's time to go to the pool."

  Three days a week mom took me to the pool for physiotherapy. With the assistance of her friend Tina, they would work my muscles in the water. Everything should have been functioning, but I still couldn't feel a thing. Not the motion of my limbs, not the pressure of mom's hands on my body. Heat and cold had returned, but nothing else. The water was cold, raising goosebumps on my skin. If I could have, I would have smiled, even unpleasant sensations were welcome. Every sensation was one step closer to Kurt taking responsibility for what he had done to me.

  Tina handed me over to mom, who held me in the water. Light reflected off the indoor heated pool to create lightscapes on the ceiling, battles of light against shadows played out overhead.

  I focused my mind on my little finger. Move. Nothing. Move. My hand continued to trail lifeless through the water. Move. Move. MOVE!

  Nothing.

  ***

  Nights were the worst. Mom put me to bed and I would lie there waiting for sleep. The television blared through the house, but was not loud enough for me to decipher what my family was watching. I stared at the ceiling willing my finger to twitch or my toe to move until the nightmares started.

  The spinning car. My head crashing against the tree. Kurt laughing as he told everyone it was my fault. I raised my hand to protect myself?

  I woke with intense pain shooting up my arm. My hand lay over my face. The moon illuminated my pinkie, strewn across my eye. I scanned the room, it was dark except for the moonlight creeping around the blinds. I was alone.

  Focusing back on my pinkie, I whispered. Move. The word fluttered on my breath sounding like a grunt, and my fingertip twitched sending searing pain up my arm. I smiled, igniting a fire in my cheeks.

  Pain glorious pain! I'd never thought I could love it with such intensity. I could feel the pressure of my hand resting across the bridge of my nose and forehead. Taste the air as it rushed across my tongue. I could see my finger twitching and hear the quiet sounds of night.

  I willed my index finger to move, and it pressed into my forehead. "Yes," I grunted, the word indecipherable. I tapped my aching fingers on my brow, until the pain receded and all I could feel was the glorious movement of my fingers.

  As the sun began to peek through the curtains, I managed to get my arm to move to my side. It was not a controlled move, and it crashed heavily onto the mattress.

  Nineteen days to plan and practice. Nineteen days before I saw Kurt and Junior at school.

  ***

  Eleven days till The Takedown-every mission needs a title-had me drowning in guilt. Despite being able to move my hands, arms, legs, lift my head off the pillow, and whisper semi-understan
dable words; I still hadn't made contact with mom. If I told her I was recovering she would no doubt tell dad, and they might tell their friends and it might get back to Kurt and Junior. So I continued to play the vegetable, keeping my head skewiff and staring at the wall as I planned how to take down the person who put me in this situation.

  ***

  A week before The Takedown I managed to sit-up in bed. It was a struggle, rolling onto my side, and using my shaking arms to push me upright. Then I fell back onto the mattress. But for a nano-second I was sitting up. I waited to hear if mom had heard me. Silence. The night had swallowed the sound.

  The next morning mom looked drawn. Her forced smile macabre as she performed her duties and chatted monotone. "We've been using the cannabis oil for a while now, and I ?" Her gaze met mine.

  She's going to stop with the treatment. I felt the buzz of fear down my spine-oh fear, welcome back. Maybe it was the cannabis making me better or maybe it was just time, but I wasn't willing to risk the progress I had made. So I looked into mom's eyes and blinked.

  Mom narrowed her eyes at me. I blinked twice. She shook her head slowly. "Zoey, if you can understand me blink twice."

  This was it, the moment I was dreading and hoping for simultaneously. Mom would know and maybe she would tell Kurt's mom. She exhaled, her face dropping, but her gaze still held mine. I blinked twice.

  Mom dropped the face washer on my bare stomach. I would need electric shock therapy to erase these sponge baths, but I had to keep my face impassive, I couldn't reveal too much of my progress. She placed her hands either side of my face. "Blink twice again if you are in there?"

  I blinked twice.

  "You're in there." Tears welled in mom's eyes and sobs contorted her face; ugly crying was a Saunder's family legacy. "How long have you been awake? Is it the cannabis? Can you move?"

  I wanted to respond so badly, but I couldn't-not yet. I blinked twice.

  Her red hair stuck to her tear stained cheeks, and she jumped off the bed. "I need to tell your father ? and ? and ?" Chewing her lip, she looked from side to side, and slowly lowered herself to sit beside me on the bed. "Maybe we should wait till there's a little more progress." She breathed deeply, grimacing. Her gaze met mine. "I want to tell your father ? but his greatest fear was your mind waking up and your body remaining asleep ? So how about we give the oil a few more weeks to work before we tell him about your progress, it can be a surprise when you're up and about again."

  She squeezed my hand. I left mine limp. In seven sleeps she would see the extent of my recovery.?

  "So what would you like to wear today?" She asked throwing open my closet and grabbing a pair of my jeans. "Blink once for 'No' and twice for 'yes.'"

  I'd made first contact. Soon I would blow Kurt away.?

  ***

  Three days. I love the night. Alone in the darkness I've mastered sitting up and walking while holding onto the bed. The darkness was broken with my quiet chatter, the times tables, songs I loved, and practice conversations with Kurt and mom.?

  The distance between my bed and desk was four paces. With my physical capabilities, it felt like fifty miles, but I needed my iPad.

  The green digital clock clicked over 12:01. I could hear my breath in the silence as I swung my legs onto the floor. "Here I go."

  Pins and needles prickled in my feet and up my calves. The first step into the open space made me shiver. I wobbled like an inflated pin with water in the base, the room spun, but I managed to stay on my feet. The next step was easier, but the third was tricky and I fell into my swivel chair hard banging my thigh on the desk. I rubbed the spot. Pain was starting to lose its wonder, a sure sign I was recovering.

  The glass-topped desk still contained my books from the day of the accident. My iPad lay in the only place uncluttered by medication or photo frames. I picked it up to discover the battery was flat. With a little effort I managed to plug it in and waited for the battery to charge sufficiently to turn it on.

  Eleven minutes. It took eleven minutes for my iPad to have enough charge to turn on. I keyed two-four-zero-three, Kurt's birthday, to open the device. There were eighty-nine updates available. My email folder boasted 479 unopened emails. I flicked to the screen with the familiar blue f, and opened Facebook, time to get some intel on the enemy. There were 126 notifications, but I didn't bother to go there. I opened my profile, which had a photo of Kurt and me smiling. That would be the second thing I changed on my profile after my status to single.

  My page was full of messages from friends and family. The most recent posts had been made on my birthday three months ago.

  My best friend, Anna, had a new selfie wearing hideously oversized sunglasses. She looked older. Did I look older? Her message read. "If we lived in Australia you'd be legal. Happy 18th." Two birthdays. I'd spent two birthdays as a vegetable. Gah. Anger coursed through my veins, I'd lost eighteen months of my life because of Kurt texting and driving.

  I began searching to see if Kurt had written anything.

  The light flicked on in my room. "What the ? "

  ***

  Chloe stepped into my bedroom, her eyes wide and face paler than when she wore her goth makeup. I stood too fast causing the room to spin.

  "Please don't tell anyone," I whispered loudly.

  Muffled sounds filtered through my parent's closed bedroom door across the hall. I stepped toward the bed, and tripped over my own feet. The carpet rose to meet me, and my hands cushioned the fall only slightly. Okay, I was totally over pain. I crawled toward the bed. Chloe wrapped her arm around my waist and half dragged, half carried me to the mattress.

  "Chloe?" Mom's voice echoed across the hall.

  I struggled to pull the blanket up. Chloe slapped my hands away and fixed the covers three seconds before mom walked through the door. Mom's hair looked like she'd been dragged through a bush backwards, and her pupils were way too big.

  "Is everything all right?" Mom asked, scratching her head.

  "I had a bad dream and wanted to check on Zoey," responded Chloe, fiddling with the hem of her pajama top.

  Mom nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. "I still have nightmares about the accident too." She crossed the room to stand beside Chloe and me. "You know Zoey is going to get better, she's already getting better."

  Chloe furrowed her brow. "How do you know?"

  Mom beamed at me. I blinked twice. "You see Zoey's already communicating. She blinks once for 'no' and twice for 'yes'."

  Chloe narrowed her eyes at me. "Is that true?"

  I blinked twice.

  "Why didn't you tell us?" Chloe asked Mom, crossing her arms over her chest.

  "You know how your father has struggled with my decisions ? He worries so much about Zoey ? " Mom forced a smile. "But she's going to get better."

  Chloe looked away. "I'm sure she will." She was pissed with me, but for some reason she wasn't selling me out.

  "It's a lot to take in." Mom wrapped an arm around my sister. "How about we all get some rest and we can talk more in the morning?"

  "Can I just have a few minutes with Zoey?" Chloe said. "I just want to talk to her."

  Mom chewed her lip. "It's after midnight ?"

  "Tomorrow is Saturday. I can sleep late."

  Mom looked between us. "There's still church in the morning."

  "But it doesn't start till ten, so I can roll out of bed at nine-thirty, and make up for any lost sleep during the service." Chloe shrugged.

  Mom shook her head smiling. "Haha, not funny ? Fine, but only ten minutes. Then I'll text you from bed, if I'm not asleep."

  We all knew mom would not be asleep; she wouldn't sleep till everyone was safe in bed. She hugged Chloe and kissed my forehead and left.

  Chloe grabbed the iPad and charger and plugged it in near the bed. She dragged the swivel chair from the desk to sit beside me, her eyes full of accusation. She pulled an iPhone from her bra, and showed me that she was clicking on the Snapchat app.


  I opened Snapchat on the iPad. Chloe was already typing.

  Chloe: Mom is listening. Message me.

  I blinked twice, and she glared at me, before continuing to type at light speed.

  Chloe: What the hell????? How long have you been walking and talking? How could you do this to mom?

  Me: I thought I was dead all this time. I woke up about a month ago and have been training myself since.

  Chloe: That doesn't explain why you haven't told mom!

  Me: Do you know how my accident happened?

  Chloe stared at the screen till well after my message had disappeared. A red blush crept through her blonde roots.

  Me: It didn't happen the way Kurt said it happened. He was texting.

  Chloe's head snapped up, so that her gaze met mine. "That worm!"

  I pressed my index finger to my lips. "Shhhh."

  My sister's fingers flew across the screen.

  Chloe: That lying filthy low life scum. I hope he falls in a vat of honey and gets eaten by fire ants.

  Me: Ditto.

  Chloe looked into my eyes, and whispered, "I need to go to bed or Mom will come back. Still why didn't you tell her about your recovering?"

  "I don't want Mom to tell Kurt's parents in case he deletes the text he sent Junior," I replied. "I want to catch him red-handed and publicly shame him like he shamed me."

  Chloe rolled her eyes. "You don't need his phone. All you need is his phone records." She tapped her black polished fingernail on her bottom lip. "Louie just started as a paralegal for Mr. Tyrol the personal claims lawyer ?" Louie was Chloe's best friend's brother, who was six years my senior. Abel who was Chloe's best friend often said that she was their seventh sibling, so if anyone could garner a favor from Louie, it was my sister. "Although I think texting and driving would be a criminal suit ? Leave it with me. I'll get you the phone records. How do you plan to take Kurt down?" Mom's bedroom door clicked. Chloe grabbed my iPad and stuffed it under my pillow. "Goodnight," she said too loudly, and dragged the swivel chair back to its place and turned out the lights. Chloe was out of the room before Mom could make her way across the hall.