Night had fallen by the time the mayor’s motorcade rolled back into Rattlewater. Only half an hour passed before Enola was gone again.
She found herself on the edge of town. The full moon in the sky reflected brilliantly off the gently flowing river here. Enola remembered coming to this spot when she was younger to work on her more permanent works.
A figure stood at the edge of the stream, hands folded behind his back. He had a faded aura to him, back bent in resignation. The young man had tousled brown hair that Enola would recognize anywhere. She calmly approached him.
“Dizzy,” Enola mumbled, “It’s been a while.”
The young man turned around and stared at his sister. He had no mask to cover his tired eyes, but he flashed the same smile he always had.
“Hey, sis. I know, it’s been too long,” he laughed, “You grew up to be a beautiful young woman. You know that?”
Enola’s expression didn’t waver. “Dizzy…why are you here? You slaughtered yourself, remember? I…saw what you left behind.”
“I just couldn’t leave you alone, Enola,” the man said, “I care about you. You know that.”
“But…why?” she asked. “Can’t I at least understand that…? Why didn’t you wait for me? When I found you, I…thought it was over for me. And hearing this…it’s too much…”
“I’m sorry, Enola…I just don’t think I can answer that question,” Dustin replied, shrugging. “But it’s fine. You don’t have to think about that ever again. I’m here now.”
“Dizzy, just…stop,” Enola began to tremble. “You’re not real…You never were real. Don’t play these fucking games with me anymore. I’m sick of it.”
“I’m not playing any games, Enola,” Dustin shook his head. “I just want you to be safe. And I don’t think you’ll be safe up here.”
“I will be,” she mumbled, “I have people here…friends. I don’t need you to look after me anymore…”
“What does it matter?” the man asked, “Nothing’s changed, Enola. You’re still the same sick girl. Just because you’ve known these people for…what, a few hours?…That doesn’t mean you’ve lost that darkness inside of you.”
Enola pressed a hand to her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut, but her brother wouldn’t go away. Not as long as the regret lived in her heart.
“Look…just shut up. The real Dizzy would never say stuff like this,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to be alone again…”
“You don’t have to be, Enola!” Dustin spread his arms wide and smiled graciously. “You’ll always have me, and the rest of your family. We’re not like the others…We’ll always be there for you.”
“No…I’m sick of running away…” Even though her own tears were starting to fall, Enola could hear something else. Sobbing…desperate sobbing. It was the sobs of a man at the end of his rope. It was her brother…How much had he suffered?
“Look. It’s not just me I’m worried about, Enola,” Dustin explained grimly. “It’s everyone. All those people you’ve met…you want them to be safe, right? You don’t want to drive them away like you drove off your family. That would hurt so much. Maybe it’s better if you just leave them.”
Enola couldn’t take it anymore. All the crying pounding into her eardrums. Dizzy staring at her with so much pity. She was sick of it…absolutely sick of it.
She caught her breath in her throat. She stood up straight. She looked him in the eye.
“You’re not real,” she snapped. “The real Dizzy…he never would have let me go near those caves.”
“You really think so?” Dustin laughed with contempt. “Does it fucking matter? I’ll always be there Enola. I’ll follow you to the ends of the Earth. Because you need to remember how pathetic you are. You need to never see the light of day again. So I’ll keep coming, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“No…I’ll put you to rest.”
“What?!”
Enola’s face hardened in resolve. She pointed a hand toward Dustin, two fingers extended, one thumb pointed upward at the sky. It was a childish depiction of a gun, but it was all she needed. She screamed at him. “Bang, bang, bang, bang!”
Four bullets fired out of her hand. They pierced Dustin’s chest one by one. Blood soaked into his shirt and scattered behind him. His blue eyes opened wide, a look of surprise frozen on his face. And he collapsed backward, slamming into the current with an enormous splash, blood streaming from his wound and down the river, a beautiful trail of bloodshed into the distance.
Enola stared at the gruesome corpse. She blinked.
Dustin was gone.
…
“Enola…Enola!”Men waving flashlights stumbled down the hill leading to the river. The mayor attempted to follow them but tripped and fell pathetically on the ground. The survivors stepped around him.
The beams of light landed on Enola as she knelt by the river. A vacant look was on her face as she felt the water slip between her fingers.
“
There ya are!” Someone said, squatting beside the poet. “You shouldn’t go runnin’ off like that! Ya had us worried!”
“…What on Earth were you doing here?”
Enola sighed, “…Does it matter anymore? The past is such a boring place to spend an eternity in.”
“…Huh?”
“She’s lost it again…”
Enola lifted her hand out of the stream. Drops of water dripped from the tips of her fingers. They fell into the current with rhythmic splashes.
“No…you don’t understand,” Enola replied, looking up at the moon. “My brother…I loved him so much. But he’s gone…and everything here. This moonlight, this breeze…it’s real. You all…you’re real. Everything else…it just doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
The clearing fell silent for a while. All that could be heard was the beautiful silence of the moonlight-bathed world outside Rattlewater.
“For the first time in so long,” she continued, “I feel like I can breathe easily.”
Slowly, Enola stood up. She brushed the dirt off her dress and turned around briskly.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Enola said, “Let’s go home…”
She stepped forward, heading back toward the town. The others exchanged glances and followed cautiously, ensuring she didn’t get away again.
But Enola never even looked back.
…
……
………………
Many miles from Rattlewater, and many years after the killing game, a Mercedes sped down a public highway, the sound of clattering cans following closely behind it. Two newlyweds sat within.
The bride couldn’t shake her feelings of uncertainty. The groom knew exactly why.
“It’s not quite the same the second time, is it?” he asked politely.
“No, not really,” she replied, gently massaging a faint wrinkle on her forehead. “I’m sorry. It just seems like I’ve spent my whole life trying to escape the first one…”
The man fell silent. He drummed his fingers on the wheel. Then, within seconds, he jerked it to the right, and the car swerved into the exit lane.
The bride’s long, brown hair flew around her like a whirlwind. “Wh-What? Where are you going?!”
“Change of plans,” he said.
After a short drive, the two wound up seated at a picnic table in a park. They were certainly out of place in their tuxedo and white dress, but they didn’t care. The groom had brought a small, carefully wrapped package with him from the car and held it out to the woman.
“I was planning to give you this over the honeymoon,” he said, “But it hurts to see you so torn up…Especially on the biggest day of our lives.”
The woman gently unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small book.
“This thing…it sorta came out of nowhere recently and became a bit of a cult classic,” the groom explained, “But the moment I saw the author’s name…I knew it must be something special. ”
It was a book of poems. The cover had an ancient almost spiritual look to it. Neat, bold text printed the work’s bizarre title: “The Souls Who Would Vanquish Satan.” But what caught the bride’s eye was the author’s large picture on the back cover, staring back with bright blue eyes just like hers.
“I just want you to know that I don’t care about your past. Besides,” He chuckled. “It seems like something beautiful came out of it anyway…”
The bride could hardly believe it. She thought she would cry, but her tear ducts came up empty. All she felt was relief, shock, and complete elation.
“Good lord…I can’t believe you found this…I…” She reached across the table and grasped her beloved’s arm, caressing it warmly. “I can’t believe I found you…”
As she looked at the face of her only living child, she couldn’t help but feel proud. She was so far away now that they would probably never cross paths again. But perhaps, through these poems, she might get to finally understand her.
She really did look beautiful. Her dark brown, lace-covered dress accentuated her paleness. Her elaborately-styled hair cascaded in waves down her head. Her face was full of life, like she was experiencing so many vivid emotions that she wasn’t sure which to express.
She was dressed like a corpse—a corpse from a distant age with centuries of stories to tell.