CHALLENGE 2: Short Story

Well, after having so much fun with the last task, I decided to ask for a new one. This time, I'm going to do something different: all I've written on GU is rants, but now I'll try my hand at publishing a short story online.

This is the task Halalcohol gave me:

Write a story including this phrase, "At midnight, I want you to leave your house. You will never return. Keep your cellphone with you. You will receive further instructions then." The story must imply that the main character is severely allergic to peanuts (I hope this whizzes under Halalcohol's radar because I slipped it in there at the last minute), and must contain four words that are of a letter value of at least 60, when a=1, b=2, etc. (I put these words in square brackets.)

Ready? Okay!

***

He opened his eyes slowly and tried to sort through his thoughts.

Matthew was in Em’s living room, seated at a rickety wooden table that no one had never gotten to fix. She sat across from him, her dark hair pulled back into a bun, and watched him intently as he twiddled his thumbs. Silence hung in the air like smog, and he wanted to wave his arms around madly and clear the distance between them.

He sighed and swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Okay, Emma, I need to tell you something.”

She looked at him and then quickly looked away. Her fingernails dug into the edge of the table.

“Em?” He blinked at her. She wasn’t responding. Her [shoulders] started to shake and she put her head down on her arms.

“Emma!” In an instant he stood up and rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Em, Emma, don’t cry,” he said, his voice cracking. Em never cried. She was the strongest person he knew. “Emma, please don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” she choked out, whipping her head up to look at him. Her makeup was running a bit at the edges. “I have to go.”

“Go where, Emma?” he asked, kneeling down by her chair. Unsure what to do in such a situation, Matthew bit his lip. “Tell me what’s going on, please…”

She took a deep breath and reached a hand into her pocket. Tossing a crumpled piece of paper at him, she stood up.

“There!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her sweater. “Look.”

He read the note in silence, taking care to look away as Emma composed herself.

Emma, be careful. They know more than we’ve expected. Fortunately I have thought up a plan to keep you safe, but it comes with some complications.

At midnight, I want you to leave your house. You will never return. Keep your cell phone with you. You will receive further instructions then.

The note was [unsigned]. Matthew read it again to make sure he’d completely understood.

“But…” he faltered. “Why? Why do you have to listen to this guy, whoever he is? It’s probably some kid’s idea of a joke.”

“It’s no joke, Matthew,” Em whispered, her back to him.

Matthew shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Emma turned around to look at him, her eyes filled with tears. “I did something bad, Matthew,” she said, her voice wavering. “I did something really bad. So I ran away…” She breathed in deeply.

He frowned. “But—”

“I had some… friends, and thought they’d keep me safe,” she continued. “But it’s no use. They’ve found me again, and now I have to go.”

“I don’t get it, Emma,” Matthew said. “What could you possibly have done?”

She shook her head. “There’s no time to explain.” He was about to protest, his head spinning, when the room was filled with a loud, brassy noise, coming from deep inside the house. His eyes widened as he realized the clock had just struck twelve.

Emma looked down, her hair falling over her eyes. “Goodbye, Matthew.”

“No!” He was suddenly overcome with panic. Frantically he took her hand, but she pulled away. “You can’t go, Em! Look, maybe we can figure something o—”

Suddenly he was on the floor, his head hitting the carpet with a thud from the force of the blow. Emma stood over him, her eyes full of sadness.

“Goodbye, Matthew,” she repeated, and slipped out the door.

*

He stared at the ceiling for hours after she left, his head throbbing from where she’d hit him, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind searching for an [explanation]. It was all too sudden, happening too fast. He couldn’t breathe.

Emma had been his best friend ever since he’d moved in next door, kicked out with no family and no place to go. She’s laughed at all his jokes and brought him tubs of ice cream from the store, taking care to pick ones without nuts to steer clear of his allergies. He’d been there for her when her sister passed away; she’d helped him bury his old dog in his backyard. They were like brother and sister, though he’d always feared something terrible would happen to break the bond, that he’d fall in love and she’d leave him forever. I was right, he realized, a terrible feeling in his gut.

When he finally got up at about half past six, the engagement ring fell from his pocket.

*

As soon as she closed the door, Em began to run. She could think of only one place to go, where there were no people and where she could hide this time of night. As she sprinted down the sidewalk and turned the corner, her head started to hurt. Vivid images flashed through her brain, distracting her and making her mind spin with nostalgia and fear.

The memories hit her like a brick wall with every step she took: her mother feeling her forehead when she had the flu, her father building a treehouse in the backyard, her old room in the attic with the faded floral wallpaper. Her heart twisted at the thought of the house she hadn’t seen for a very long time, sold to a construction company and torn down long after she’d left.

More images flew at her. Em narrowly dodged a branch. Being bullied at school, having all the girls laugh at her and all the boys put gum in her hair because she wasn’t rich or popular. The bottles of alcohol that began to appear under the kitchen sink, all empty. The drugs she got at school, from the kids behind the back lot with tattoos and narrowed eyes. She’d been out of control that night, the night when her house burned down. She remembered the fear in her mother’s eyes when she’d burst into the room, completely stoned, a lit match in her hands, threatening to burn the place down, that stupid old house with the rickety walls.

Emma had escaped unharmed, passing out on the lawn, and her sister’s burns weren't bad enough so that she couldn’t call the neighbours, screaming and coughing and crying as her home burst into flames. Their parents hadn’t been so lucky. When the firefighters finally came to put out the house, they emerged with two empty bodies, their parents’ souls no longer inhabiting them. Em had never felt so horrible in her entire life.

Matthew moved in around three or four years later, and they became friends instantly. And she’d left him behind, pushed him down onto the rug, [stalked] out of the house and never looked back. He probably hated her, and she couldn’t blame him. She hated herself for the monster she’d become.

Em stopped running to catch her breath. She felt sick. It was dark and she was unsure where she was for a moment. She paused to listen. It was very quiet in the background, except for a dog barking mournfully in a far-off backyard, and in the distance, the sound of an approaching police siren.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized her mistake. She checked her empty pockets frantically, all the while remembering her abandoned phone on the coffee table at home. She started to run again, faster, as the sound of the siren got closer and closer.

I hate this, she screamed inwardly, her shoes scuffing on the floor. I hate running, I hate my life, I hate myself. Her hands balled into fists as she willed herself to go faster, dodging discarded trash and stones like the best action hero alive.

She stopped suddenly. There was a bar at her waist, a large yellow sign hanging above her head. In the darkness she could make out the shape of a swamp up ahead. She whipped around, trapped.

The police car parked on a neighbouring street and she heard the car doors slam. Several armed officers got out of the vehicle and started to run, spotting her against the moonlit sky from a distance. She turned back to the water.

It was at least a thirty-foot drop. The bottom of the shallow gully was lined with sharp stones. Her ears pounded with the officers’ footsteps. She’d never make it. Not a chance.

Good, she thought. Keeping her eyes open as the police approached, Emma took a deep breath and swung herself over the edge.

***

Phew. Sorry if it was extremely long, which it was. I desperately hope the format doesn't get screwed up again like last time. D: