Blowing Rock

 Evelyn and Ashton went for a late night joy ride in Evelyn’s brand new car, a high priced convertible. They were also armed with a couple of bottles of the preferred beverage of many teens, Blowing Rock, to facilitate their craving for an evening’s inebriation. Ashton and Evelyn were best of friends. They giggled, they war whooped, and they battle cried, they sang silly songs out of tune, which were entirely different from the one’s playing on the loud radio in the dashboard.

The major feature of the dashboard of Evelyn’s new ride was busy blaring so loudly it was a wonder they could hear themselves think, besides which, neither one of them cared. Those girls were having the time of their lives being best friends, riding around drinking together, gulping down cheap booze, as if they knew very well what they were doing, which they most certainly did not. The girls happened to be just young enough, somewhere around sixteen or so, I think, their young minds were not mature enough to ask themselves any of the pertinent questions to the situation.

Everything was too new to these kids to be manageable for either one of them.

At one point, they encountered some heavy rain along the roadway, and since they were out late, which rain might have been more unpleasant for them, had they been sober. They forgot the top was down on the car, and their visibility went down to about zero. A general fog rolled in along the roadway, where the girls happened to be, and poor Evelyn was becoming increasingly disoriented about her surroundings. I’d have headed for home, but the concept never came up between the two of them.

Evelyn began to struggle to control the car, and she began to feel panic stricken, intermittently, for the lack of visibility out of the windshield. Evelyn, however, did not feel the sense of alarm which might have prompted her passenger to at least give Evelyn feedback under the circumstances. The slippery conditions only complicate matters for Evelyn’s driving, but she still withheld her issues from Ashton. Evelyn kept thinking it would not be fair to Ashton… But found she could not finish the ethereal thought failing to formulate in her mind.

Ashton became too soused with her inebriation late at night, to notice there was anything wrong with her friend. Both girls were at least three sheets to the wind by this time, and soaked through to the bone, as the expression has it. They didn’t even notice the wet clothes, nor that it would have been very wise of them to go home right away, while the getting was good. They were well advised to turn the car around. But they were teenagers and kept on going. Evelyn and Ashton were a disaster waiting to happen. Typical teenagers they were between them, predictably not exercising any caution.

Evelyn and Ashton were not familiar with the possibilities of what they were doing, they had no concept of the dangers involved. They would both have denied their lack of experience drinking, as well as the developing predicament which was only getting worse. Changing seats, if anyone were to have suggested that, would also have been met by a sharp denial. Even Evelyn noticed she was driving into unfamiliar territory, but was all too drunk and reckless to have cared. Her fright had been remedied by a few more tosses of the bottle.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the high priced sports convertible, with the top down, collided with a train car blocking the late night road. Evelyn couldn’t have missed it if she’d seen it. The overall visibility in that neighborhood was extremely low. Simultaneously, both poor girls lost their heads, in the literal sense. Their heads bounced into the back seat of the expensive car, and both girls breathed their last. Evelyn and Ashton had become highway statistics without ever having a clue what was coming. Imagine if you were emergency personnel responding to the scene, or even the coroner in his usual office, how could you identify which head went with which body?

The girls found themselves having separate experiences from one another, once death began to set in. The two spirits were unable to converse, for one thing. They had experiences which were of a remarkably different nature from anything their relationship together might suspect. They were still drunk after their lives had been snuffed out, and the two spirits realized it too. Now they perceived what a shameful thing it is to be drunk.

They were humiliated.

They were both aware of the dynamics and consequences of their circumstances and behavior, now that they were both spirits, but didn’t know exactly what was coming next. Their spirits became levitated well above the accident scene, and both spirits understood very well what had taken their lives. They eventually made their own, individual ways to their own, individual destinations, in whatever ways spirits arrive at places.

Initially, the ghosts found they could easily, and without effort, penetrate where they were directed. But the Great Spirit was not happy. Not finding her parents themselves at home at the moment her spirit arrived, families were involved in that regrettable business of identifying their daughter’s remains. Evelyn’s spirit made it’s way to the family room of the house where she grew up, in that basement, since she had always been the most comfortable there. Evelyn’s spirit remained there, feeling sad that she’d taken Ashton’s life away from her, along with her own.

Evelyn’s spirit was truly saddened for Ashton, but she experienced no tangible inclination to attempt to visit Ashton’s spirit, though she knew the girl’s parent’s house well. Evelyn did try to leave the house where she was, but her spirit would encounter a significant immobility and loss of strength, which could not be ignored by the ghost herself. Evelyn would experience many such lacking of strength over her time as a restless spirit.

Her spirit seemed to be confined to her parent’s basement.

Ashton’s spirit, conversely, experienced an entirely different fate from Evelyn’s. She experienced easy admission to the wonders of the spirit world, relatively quickly after the tragic accident. Awaiting Ashton on the threshold of the spirit world were her forebears from all walks of life. Her spirit was greeted warmly.

Though were not confined to her immediate bloodline.

The spirits were not at all frightening.

There were some who had prayed for Ashton her entire lifetime. Those spirits were given a assurance and delight which few have known. Ashton experienced an exultation and deliverance from all the trials and troubles of life. There isn’t much else to tell about young Ashton, dear child. She found a comfort and a surcease relatively unknown to this world or the next.

Conversely, Evelyn haunted the basement of her parents’ house to the extent that her folks decided to sell the place. The Great Spirit would not let the restless spirit lose from her prison. Children of successive generations would chronicle exaggerated, even false stories, and tall tales of Evelyn and whoever her friend was.

The actual, Ashton’s spirit, was permitted to rest and relax in the spirit world.

The children of the neighborhood where the girls grew up, long after the house had changed hands, came up with about five or six separate versions of death for the two girls, yet could only come up with one name. None of tales were accurate. But that wouldn’t stop the stories from occurring to the young storytellers. Children to this day will sit at one basement window or another, of the ill-fated house, watching for the ill-fated shadow to reveal itself to them.

Some of these innocents will get scared, some won’t.

The rest of the story not known on earth, was Ashton’s secret. For some childish reason she believed she owed silence to someone. With the exception of one man, whose heart was as black as pitch, Ashton’s father, had succeeded in ravaging his own daughter, until she was quietly, uncomfortably enough, struggled to attend school. The violation of the very sanctity of childhood had covered Ashton all her life, but Evelyn was nothing more than a bad girl.

Advertisements

About geostan51

I'm a wordsmith and a craftsman. I've been known to hand crochet just about anything escept granny squares. I've got about twenty titles in my name on the Kindle Store at Amazon.com.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s