A Bond of Fire
Aug. 16th, 2024 12:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muchtooarrogantLJI Week 6: The path is made by walking
Corey spotted the garage sale during his morning run. The tan brick house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, appeared to be set a bit further back on the lot than most of its neighbors, and possessed a longer than normal driveway, now partially filled with tables. He shortened his stride, not yet convinced to stop. There were t-shirts, dishes, sheets, a random assortment of Tupperware, and yes, a table to the side holding several stacks of books.
Ordinarily, he followed the same route every day, but this morning had grown tired of the all too familiar scenery, and decided to investigate this side street. He had a long plane ride to endure tomorrow, and maybe these people would have something fun to read? He didn't see anyone hanging out in either the driveway or open garage, but that was probably just as well. He could quickly flip through the stacks of books and not be guilted into buying something if the selection sucked.
When he arrived at the book table, he discovered a paper sign:
After discarding three romances from the first stack, he wondered whether each pile had been organized by genre, or if the whole table would prove to be a miss. Fortunately, Grisham's Presumed Innocent was next, and he resolved to keep digging.
He had reached the next to the last stack when he spied a flash of orange letters. "Fir" Corey pulled the book free, and grinned at the revealed cover. A pair of green eyes, with a mask of flame covering the mouth and nose.
"Andy and Charlie McGee," he chuckled, riffling through the pages. When had he last …
"I like that book too," a girl's voice said from beside him.
Corey jerked back in shock, and almost dropped the book. He barely managed to hold on to Andy and Charlie's story, but his elbow brushed an adjacent stack, and the books began a slow cascade down to the driveway below, landing with a series of muted thumps. The teenage kid who had caused the accident, a strawberry blonde with green eyes, grinned up at him unashamedly.
"You scared the sh… crap outa me!" he complained, glaring at her.
"Your face," she giggled, putting one hand over her mouth as though trying to hold in more laughter. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Yeah, well, I feel like I've seen a ghost," he grumped, bending over to retrieve the run away books.
Where had she come from anyway? He would've seen anyone following him up from the street, and although the front door was off to the side, he felt like he would've noticed motion from there or the garage. Weird.
"What do you like about it?" she asked.
Corey straightened, and restacked the fallen books on the table. Any trace of embarrassment was gone from the girl's face, and she seemed full of a suppressed excitement, as though his opinion of King's writing was the most important thing in the world.
"I mean, mind control, government conspiracies, pyrokinesis, what's not to like?" Did she want the book? "I read it when I was in high school." Corey liked the feel of the book in his hand, and was oddly reluctant to give it up.
"Me too," she said. "I was sick at home for days, and it kept me company."
Given her appearance, he doubted she was out of high school yet, but she probably just meant some time in the recent past.
The garage's inside door opened, and a lady loaded down with additional items emerged. "Oh, hi there," she exclaimed, "find anything you like?"
Corey nodded politely, and lifted Firestarter in one hand. "I think maybe we both did," he said. If the kid really wanted the book, he'd give it to her. He could always find another paper copy somewhere else if he really wanted it, although probably not before tomorrow's flight. He glanced to the side to gage her reaction, but she was gone.
The lady looked puzzled, "You both did?"
"There was …" He shrugged helplessly. Had he imagined the whole interaction? "I'll, uh, take this one," he finished, feeling like an idiot.
By the time he got home, Corey was ready for a long shower to remove the accumulated sweat. His apartment complex was just outside the residential neighborhood where he liked to run, and it was always a relief when the subdivision's entrance appeared. A relief, but also a personal challenge to have pushed himself even harder during those last few minutes. He had run a little longer than normal today if he counted the side street with the garage sale, but he'd also had an unplanned break there, so it was pretty much a wash.
The lady he'd bought the book from had given him a plastic bag to carry it in, which saved him from having to juggle it from hand to hand while running home. She had been polite after her initial confusion, but he had caught an occasional wary look, as though she were bracing herself for a possible psychotic outburst from him at any moment. Corey sympathized, the kid couldn't have simply vanished, and yet she had.
His apartment was on the third floor, and since the stairs were outside, he generally finished up his run by jogging up them as well. Mrs. Ramirez and her two children were coming out of their ground floor apartment as he started up, and all three of them gave him a friendly wave. Corey waved back, and decided to stop thinking about the mystery of the disappearing girl. She hadn't been hiding behind any trees or parked cars on his way home, and wouldn't be waiting at the top of the stairs either.
He arrived at his front door, fished in the pocket of his running shorts for his keys, and was greeted with a blast of cold air when the door opened. He had been happy to score an apartment on the top floor, despite the enormous hassle of getting all of the furniture up the stairs. He didn't have to worry about people above him stomping around late at night or early in the morning, but even more than that, he had a balcony. He tossed Firestarter at the couch, and turned for a quick look out the balcony's sliding glass doors before heading off to the shower. The girl was sitting on the balcony's railing, idly kicking her feet.
Corey stood frozen for what felt like several minutes, but was probably just a few seconds. There was no way she could be on his balcony. Either he was hallucinating, or …
Slowly, he walked to the glass door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. "You know," he said, trying his damnedest to not fuck up the delivery with a shaky voice, "if you wanted the book that much, I would've given it to you."
She laughed, slid off the railing, and walked quickly towards him. He was trying to decide whether or not to stand his ground, but waited too long, and she walked right through him. There was a momentary chill, as though he were standing in front of a subzero freezer with the door open, and then it was gone. Again, he was left standing, with even fewer options than before.
"Come inside please," her voice said from behind him, "I'm done being scary."
He turned, stepped inside, and considered whether or not to leave the door open. Stupid! What was he supposed to do if he needed to escape? Run outside, vault the railing, and fly all the way down to the ground? He slid the door shut.
The girl was perched on the bar separating the living room from the kitchen, her feet propped on a stool. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding genuinely regretful, "I promise I'll explain everything, but it's much easier if we skip all of the 'I don't believe you,' and 'That's not possible!' BS."
And, she had certainly done that. Corey gave her a careful nod, and sat on the corner of the couch furthest from her.
"My name's Leslie," she began, and then paused in invitation.
"Corey," he responded. For now, he had resolved to say as few words as possible.
"I was born on November 3, 1965." She paused again, but Corey remained silent. "In 1980, my mom got me Firestarter for my fifteenth birthday," she gestured at the book beside him on the couch, "and even though I loved the book, it was a pretty crappy birthday because I had a cold."
What had she said at the garage sale? "I was sick at home for days, and it kept me company."
"I was taking aspirin, and I thought the cold was getting better, but then I started throwing up all the time. I couldn't keep anything down, and at the end all I wanted to do was sleep anyway."
The realization struck him like a glass of cold water thrown in his face. She had died. She was trying to tell him she was a ghost.
"I'm sorry!" He cleared his throat, and with a monumental effort, looked up and met her eyes. "That does sound like a pretty crappy birthday."
The corners of Leslie's mouth raised in a half smile, but the look in her eyes made it the saddest expression he'd ever seen. "At some point," she continued, "I passed away in my sleep." Her voice was matter of fact. This happened, and then this. "For me, there wasn't a shining light, or people I used to know beckoning me forward, for a long time there was just emptiness. Then, I understood that I had a choice to make. Stay here, or go," she motioned vaguely upward with one hand, "somewhere else."
He was astonished. "And, you chose to stay here?"
The corners of her mouth twitched upward again, but this time it looked like a real smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Are you so certain you know what comes after your life is over here?"
He shook his head uncertainly. "But, you said you were given a choice, that suggests there's something … else."
"Sure," she conceded, "but what? I mean, maybe, if I had been older, if I had lived a little more, I would've taken the risk, but as it was?" Her green eyes were indignant. "I felt cheated, Corey. I hadn't done anything yet! One kinda-sorta boyfriend for maybe two months, a dad who ditched us when he found out mom was pregnant, a mom who had to work multiple jobs just to survive. I'm not saying my life was tragic or anything, for the most part I was a pretty happy kid, but," she made a throw away gesture with one hand. "If someone was writing my biography, what I had lived up to that point would've only been chapter one."
Corey nodded in acquiescence, she wasn't wrong. "So, you decided to stay."
"I decided to stay," she agreed.
"And, you're haunting …" He started to laugh, reached over and removed Firestarter from the bag, and brandished the book at her. "This?"
She grinned at him. "Well yeah! How am I supposed to travel the world and see everything I want to if I'm tied down to one house? Boooooooooooooooooring!"
"Which means I'm," he drummed his fingers on Firestarter's cover, "your tour guide?"
"If," she hesitated. It was the first time she'd ever seemed uncertain. "If you're willing. I know it's a lot to ask, and most of the time you won't even know I'm here. It's just, when you picked up the book, I got a good feeling about you."
"I'll think about it," he promised.
For spring break, Corey's friend Trent had invited their college study group, a total of seven people, to hang out in California for a week.
"I live close to Lake Elsinore," he had said, "and there are some great hiking trails in that area. We could use my parents' place as home base, hike the trails, camp out, and maybe even do a little mountain climbing if you guys are up for it."
Corey hadn't ever been to California, and had jumped at the opportunity to vacation with friends. For their first stop, they had chosen Ortega Falls, a series of trails with a waterfall at the end. After clambering over several boulders, through and around brush, they had eventually found a trail that took them to the base of the waterfall.
Hanging back while the others took pictures, Corey slipped out of his backpack and liberated a bottle of water from inside. Firestarter was tucked away in the front pocket.
"What do you think?" he asked quietly.
"It's amazing," her voice said from beside him. "Also, I think the Elise girl might be a little sweet on you."
Some of his water went down the wrong way, and Corey started spluttering.
Her laughter was like the distant sound of windchimes, and there was the briefest touch of cold against his cheek. Her hand? Her lips? "Thank you, Corey. I'm going to play in the water for a while."
Author's note
The illness that took Leslie's life is known as Reye Syndrome. Dr. Reye studied the illness extensively in the 1950's, and published his findings in 1963, but it would be two decades later before the medical field began warning the public of the danger of taking Aspirin while sick with a viral infection.
I live on Elsinore Lane, but alas have never gone hiking in the Lake Elsinore region of California. Maybe some day. 😊
Dan
Corey spotted the garage sale during his morning run. The tan brick house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, appeared to be set a bit further back on the lot than most of its neighbors, and possessed a longer than normal driveway, now partially filled with tables. He shortened his stride, not yet convinced to stop. There were t-shirts, dishes, sheets, a random assortment of Tupperware, and yes, a table to the side holding several stacks of books.
Ordinarily, he followed the same route every day, but this morning had grown tired of the all too familiar scenery, and decided to investigate this side street. He had a long plane ride to endure tomorrow, and maybe these people would have something fun to read? He didn't see anyone hanging out in either the driveway or open garage, but that was probably just as well. He could quickly flip through the stacks of books and not be guilted into buying something if the selection sucked.
When he arrived at the book table, he discovered a paper sign:
1 book, $0.50
5 books, $2.00
10 books, $4.00
After discarding three romances from the first stack, he wondered whether each pile had been organized by genre, or if the whole table would prove to be a miss. Fortunately, Grisham's Presumed Innocent was next, and he resolved to keep digging.
He had reached the next to the last stack when he spied a flash of orange letters. "Fir" Corey pulled the book free, and grinned at the revealed cover. A pair of green eyes, with a mask of flame covering the mouth and nose.
Stephen King
Fire-
Starter
"Andy and Charlie McGee," he chuckled, riffling through the pages. When had he last …
"I like that book too," a girl's voice said from beside him.
Corey jerked back in shock, and almost dropped the book. He barely managed to hold on to Andy and Charlie's story, but his elbow brushed an adjacent stack, and the books began a slow cascade down to the driveway below, landing with a series of muted thumps. The teenage kid who had caused the accident, a strawberry blonde with green eyes, grinned up at him unashamedly.
"You scared the sh… crap outa me!" he complained, glaring at her.
"Your face," she giggled, putting one hand over her mouth as though trying to hold in more laughter. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Yeah, well, I feel like I've seen a ghost," he grumped, bending over to retrieve the run away books.
Where had she come from anyway? He would've seen anyone following him up from the street, and although the front door was off to the side, he felt like he would've noticed motion from there or the garage. Weird.
"What do you like about it?" she asked.
Corey straightened, and restacked the fallen books on the table. Any trace of embarrassment was gone from the girl's face, and she seemed full of a suppressed excitement, as though his opinion of King's writing was the most important thing in the world.
"I mean, mind control, government conspiracies, pyrokinesis, what's not to like?" Did she want the book? "I read it when I was in high school." Corey liked the feel of the book in his hand, and was oddly reluctant to give it up.
"Me too," she said. "I was sick at home for days, and it kept me company."
Given her appearance, he doubted she was out of high school yet, but she probably just meant some time in the recent past.
The garage's inside door opened, and a lady loaded down with additional items emerged. "Oh, hi there," she exclaimed, "find anything you like?"
Corey nodded politely, and lifted Firestarter in one hand. "I think maybe we both did," he said. If the kid really wanted the book, he'd give it to her. He could always find another paper copy somewhere else if he really wanted it, although probably not before tomorrow's flight. He glanced to the side to gage her reaction, but she was gone.
The lady looked puzzled, "You both did?"
"There was …" He shrugged helplessly. Had he imagined the whole interaction? "I'll, uh, take this one," he finished, feeling like an idiot.
By the time he got home, Corey was ready for a long shower to remove the accumulated sweat. His apartment complex was just outside the residential neighborhood where he liked to run, and it was always a relief when the subdivision's entrance appeared. A relief, but also a personal challenge to have pushed himself even harder during those last few minutes. He had run a little longer than normal today if he counted the side street with the garage sale, but he'd also had an unplanned break there, so it was pretty much a wash.
The lady he'd bought the book from had given him a plastic bag to carry it in, which saved him from having to juggle it from hand to hand while running home. She had been polite after her initial confusion, but he had caught an occasional wary look, as though she were bracing herself for a possible psychotic outburst from him at any moment. Corey sympathized, the kid couldn't have simply vanished, and yet she had.
His apartment was on the third floor, and since the stairs were outside, he generally finished up his run by jogging up them as well. Mrs. Ramirez and her two children were coming out of their ground floor apartment as he started up, and all three of them gave him a friendly wave. Corey waved back, and decided to stop thinking about the mystery of the disappearing girl. She hadn't been hiding behind any trees or parked cars on his way home, and wouldn't be waiting at the top of the stairs either.
He arrived at his front door, fished in the pocket of his running shorts for his keys, and was greeted with a blast of cold air when the door opened. He had been happy to score an apartment on the top floor, despite the enormous hassle of getting all of the furniture up the stairs. He didn't have to worry about people above him stomping around late at night or early in the morning, but even more than that, he had a balcony. He tossed Firestarter at the couch, and turned for a quick look out the balcony's sliding glass doors before heading off to the shower. The girl was sitting on the balcony's railing, idly kicking her feet.
Corey stood frozen for what felt like several minutes, but was probably just a few seconds. There was no way she could be on his balcony. Either he was hallucinating, or …
Slowly, he walked to the glass door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. "You know," he said, trying his damnedest to not fuck up the delivery with a shaky voice, "if you wanted the book that much, I would've given it to you."
She laughed, slid off the railing, and walked quickly towards him. He was trying to decide whether or not to stand his ground, but waited too long, and she walked right through him. There was a momentary chill, as though he were standing in front of a subzero freezer with the door open, and then it was gone. Again, he was left standing, with even fewer options than before.
"Come inside please," her voice said from behind him, "I'm done being scary."
He turned, stepped inside, and considered whether or not to leave the door open. Stupid! What was he supposed to do if he needed to escape? Run outside, vault the railing, and fly all the way down to the ground? He slid the door shut.
The girl was perched on the bar separating the living room from the kitchen, her feet propped on a stool. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding genuinely regretful, "I promise I'll explain everything, but it's much easier if we skip all of the 'I don't believe you,' and 'That's not possible!' BS."
And, she had certainly done that. Corey gave her a careful nod, and sat on the corner of the couch furthest from her.
"My name's Leslie," she began, and then paused in invitation.
"Corey," he responded. For now, he had resolved to say as few words as possible.
"I was born on November 3, 1965." She paused again, but Corey remained silent. "In 1980, my mom got me Firestarter for my fifteenth birthday," she gestured at the book beside him on the couch, "and even though I loved the book, it was a pretty crappy birthday because I had a cold."
What had she said at the garage sale? "I was sick at home for days, and it kept me company."
"I was taking aspirin, and I thought the cold was getting better, but then I started throwing up all the time. I couldn't keep anything down, and at the end all I wanted to do was sleep anyway."
The realization struck him like a glass of cold water thrown in his face. She had died. She was trying to tell him she was a ghost.
"I'm sorry!" He cleared his throat, and with a monumental effort, looked up and met her eyes. "That does sound like a pretty crappy birthday."
The corners of Leslie's mouth raised in a half smile, but the look in her eyes made it the saddest expression he'd ever seen. "At some point," she continued, "I passed away in my sleep." Her voice was matter of fact. This happened, and then this. "For me, there wasn't a shining light, or people I used to know beckoning me forward, for a long time there was just emptiness. Then, I understood that I had a choice to make. Stay here, or go," she motioned vaguely upward with one hand, "somewhere else."
He was astonished. "And, you chose to stay here?"
The corners of her mouth twitched upward again, but this time it looked like a real smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Are you so certain you know what comes after your life is over here?"
He shook his head uncertainly. "But, you said you were given a choice, that suggests there's something … else."
"Sure," she conceded, "but what? I mean, maybe, if I had been older, if I had lived a little more, I would've taken the risk, but as it was?" Her green eyes were indignant. "I felt cheated, Corey. I hadn't done anything yet! One kinda-sorta boyfriend for maybe two months, a dad who ditched us when he found out mom was pregnant, a mom who had to work multiple jobs just to survive. I'm not saying my life was tragic or anything, for the most part I was a pretty happy kid, but," she made a throw away gesture with one hand. "If someone was writing my biography, what I had lived up to that point would've only been chapter one."
Corey nodded in acquiescence, she wasn't wrong. "So, you decided to stay."
"I decided to stay," she agreed.
"And, you're haunting …" He started to laugh, reached over and removed Firestarter from the bag, and brandished the book at her. "This?"
She grinned at him. "Well yeah! How am I supposed to travel the world and see everything I want to if I'm tied down to one house? Boooooooooooooooooring!"
"Which means I'm," he drummed his fingers on Firestarter's cover, "your tour guide?"
"If," she hesitated. It was the first time she'd ever seemed uncertain. "If you're willing. I know it's a lot to ask, and most of the time you won't even know I'm here. It's just, when you picked up the book, I got a good feeling about you."
"I'll think about it," he promised.
For spring break, Corey's friend Trent had invited their college study group, a total of seven people, to hang out in California for a week.
"I live close to Lake Elsinore," he had said, "and there are some great hiking trails in that area. We could use my parents' place as home base, hike the trails, camp out, and maybe even do a little mountain climbing if you guys are up for it."
Corey hadn't ever been to California, and had jumped at the opportunity to vacation with friends. For their first stop, they had chosen Ortega Falls, a series of trails with a waterfall at the end. After clambering over several boulders, through and around brush, they had eventually found a trail that took them to the base of the waterfall.
Hanging back while the others took pictures, Corey slipped out of his backpack and liberated a bottle of water from inside. Firestarter was tucked away in the front pocket.
"What do you think?" he asked quietly.
"It's amazing," her voice said from beside him. "Also, I think the Elise girl might be a little sweet on you."
Some of his water went down the wrong way, and Corey started spluttering.
Her laughter was like the distant sound of windchimes, and there was the briefest touch of cold against his cheek. Her hand? Her lips? "Thank you, Corey. I'm going to play in the water for a while."
Author's note
The illness that took Leslie's life is known as Reye Syndrome. Dr. Reye studied the illness extensively in the 1950's, and published his findings in 1963, but it would be two decades later before the medical field began warning the public of the danger of taking Aspirin while sick with a viral infection.
I live on Elsinore Lane, but alas have never gone hiking in the Lake Elsinore region of California. Maybe some day. 😊
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-08-18 04:18 am (UTC)Dan