Buried in Sunshine (6 page)

“Are you me?” Emma finally asks,
dumbfounded.

“Perhaps,” the familiar form replies as she
begins to pace back and forth around the short length of the bed.
“Maybe I’m just someone that looks like you?”

“Do you have a name?”

“Do you?” The girl asks as she crosses her
arms.

“Of course,” Emma replies. “It’s Emma…”

“Elizabeth then…”

“Why Elizabeth…?”

“Why do you call yourself Emma?” Elizabeth asks
as she stops pacing and faces Emma.

“Because it’s my name…” Emma replies. She had
expected the form to call herself Alexis—that would have made more
sense, not that any part of this entire situation makes any
sense…but that would have at least made a little sense. She has not
known any Elizabeths in her lifetime, at least as far as she
remembers. There might have been students in the same school,
however, no one that she was close to.

“Elizabeth is my name.”

“Well then, Elizabeth…” Emma begins, finally
accepting the strange name that her mirror image has chosen. After
all, if she remembers correctly there is a much more pertinent
matter at hand that needs to be addressed. “Why are you here?”

“I’m not certain—I just kind of showed up today.
I figured that there has to be a purpose.” Elizabeth says as she
begins to pace back and forth once more. “I suppose I am here to
help you in these last days—I was sent, after all. Although I don’t
know really why, I guess I’m just a messenger? Perhaps…?”

“Who were you sent by?”

“The sun of course,” Elizabeth says calmly as
she stops and points out to the brilliant warm light that floods in
from the large window. “Although, I’m not sure why it sent me, I’ve
tried asking it—it doesn’t answer back. I also don’t know where I
go at night.”

“I…” Emma begins as she attempts to collect her
thoughts as though they have been spilt out of a jar and strewn
upon the wooden floor. So many questions fill her mind—however, one
terrifies her the most; this idea that the sun is coming for her.
“I don’t want the sun to come for me. I don’t understand—you said
you wanted me to live again, like I used to. You said you are here
to help me. To what end? I mean… because I used to wish to be part
of it? I don’t want that anymore.”

“I do want all that for you,” Elizabeth replies
as she swiftly closes the distance between the two of them and
gives Emma a tight hug. She then whispers into Emma’s ear. “Do you
remember when you tried to hang yourself?”

“A little…” Emma whispers. She is put off by the
closeness between her and Elizabeth. There is something strange,
something unsettling, about their embrace. She thinks back to the
moment she attempted to kill herself, she only remembers
fragments.

“When you placed the cord around your neck and
kicked your feet off the edge of the bathtub, there was no stopping
what would happen next.”

“I fell, the bar did not hold.”

“It was your fate to survive. However, once you
made that leap—there was no turning back.” Elizabeth whispers as
she releases her embrace. “It is just like that.”

“What do I do?”

“Right now, you have to come with me—after that,
breakfast.”

“Where are we headed?”

“If I told you,” Elizabeth says as she takes
Emma by the hand. “You wouldn’t want to go.”

Emma felt herself being pulled down the
staircase. Just as it was when she entered her old room—she had no
choice. This being, Elizabeth, is much stronger than her. Her will
much more dominating. Emma stumbles on the last step and lets out a
short cry as she felt herself falling to the ground. Her hand slips
away from Elizabeth’s.

“Stop…” Elizabeth whispers.

Emma froze in midair; her face was a few inches
from striking against the hardwood floor. She cautiously places her
hands against the wooden floor and steadies herself. She got to her
knees as Elizabeth held out a hand to help her up. “How did
you…?”

“I’m not sure,” Elizabeth says as she cocks an
eyebrow. “I don’t know?”

Emma takes Elizabeth’s hand and is back on her
feet. “Thank you…”

Elizabeth nods in reply; she still has a
confused look upon her face as though she is trying to figure out
exactly what just happened. She shakes her head as though to clear
away the confusing thoughts and leads Emma towards an old wooden
door with a brass flower designed handle. She then places Emma’s
hand upon the door.

“The basement…” Emma whispers as she bites her
lip nervously. Despite her newfound courage, she still is
apprehensive about going down into the basement—even when she was
more…normal, she still felt strange in the basement. It was not
only due to the fact that she found the cord there to hang herself.
There was simply something more, perhaps it was just a common fear
that a lot of other people also have—perhaps there was something
more. Elizabeth bringing her here would point to the latter.

“Yes,” Elizabeth says as she pats Emma’s hand
reassuringly.

“We’re going down there?”

“You are going down there,” Elizabeth says as
she shakes her head. “Not enough light—it’s not… It’s not good for
me. Also I’m not particularly fond of the place.”

“What am I looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth answered as she
brought her hand to her chin and began to rub it the same way that
Dr. Riley often would during their sessions. “I imagine you’ll know
it when you see it?”

“Right,” Emma says as she takes in a heavy
breath for confidence and turns the knob. The old door creaks on
its rusty hinges as the straight staircase is revealed beyond the
threshold. She pulls on a metal chain and the basement is
illuminated in a pale yellow glow of old dusty lights.

“The first step is always the worst,” Elizabeth
speaks as she walked away.

“Right…” Emma adds, although she secretly thinks
to herself ‘whatever the fuck that means.’ At this point she felt
that every moment of this excursion was going to be the worst. She
takes that proverbial, and literal, first step and follows it
quickly with a second and third. She reaches the bottom of the
stairs with little incident.

“Now what am I looking for?” Emma mutters as she
begins to navigate the labyrinthine basement. She passes room after
room. Some were filled with boxes, Christmas decorations—some were
empty. She attempts to imagine what purpose all these places had
back when this was a working farm. As she passes one room she
shudders as a large slab stone table stands in the center and a
drain lays sunken into the ground nearby. A sink exists in the
corner; her mind flashes horrible thoughts of animals being
slaughtered upon the cold stone table—the blood draining down into
the hole. Something about the table makes her feel uneasy. She
continues on, attempting to remove the negative thoughts from her
overactive and overly visual mind.

As she reaches the back wall, Emma finally
discovers what she believes she is looking for. Upon the far brick
wall, a crude image of the sun has been drawn in white chalk along
a section that looks slightly different than the rest. Emma wonders
why she never noticed it before. Perhaps, it was because she was
never really looking. Even as a child she had a bad feeling about
this place.

A metal rod, probably used to hang curtains in
the past, rests against the ground nearby. Emma picks it up and
hits it against the regular looking section of the wall—the rod
vibrates violently in her hand as a dull thud echoes through the
basement. She then takes the length of metal to the suspicious wall
with the drawing of the chalk sun. She brings both of her hands
back as she tightens her grip upon the rod and swings it at the
wall. The loud, resounding thud seems to echo through the wall—the
noise is not just confined to the basement, as she suspected, there
is something behind the wall. After all, it was a little obvious,
but she had to be sure.

Emma tosses the bar to the ground and makes her
way back towards the stairs. She feels a little better having
completed her task—and, at least, this time there was no horrible
revelation or series of flashbacks. Just the revelation of an empty
space—perhaps a secret room behind the far wall. She hopes there is
nothing terrible beyond the bricks and mortar. Her overly vivid
imagination flashes her ideas of a dead body, decomposing over the
years. Or worse, a long dark hallway—one with hands that would grab
her and pull at her as the light chased her. The latter was more a
product of her nightmares and seemed less likely. This truth gave
the idea that a decomposing body resided beyond the wall was a much
better choice and seemed to disturb her much less when presented
with the two options that her imagination posed.

Emma opens up the door; she is relieved to be
back on the first floor the house. She follows the smell of cooked
bacon as she rounds the corner and enters into the kitchen.

“Emma?” Elizabeth’s voice asks as the clatter of
plates is heard in the kitchen.

“You cooked?” Emma asks as she spots a plate of
food set out upon the kitchen table. A plate of scrambled eggs,
bacon, and some toast with butter—no jelly, Emma hates jelly in all
of its various flavors and forms.

“It felt like the right thing to do at the
time,” Elizabeth says in a monotone voice as she pauses and looks
blankly out the kitchen window. It appears as though, in some way,
she is not always completely in control of her actions.

“Thank you?” Emma says, confused at Elizabeth’s
strange actions. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I don’t eat.”

Emma places her hand upon the chair and slides
it outward. She sits, all the while keeping her eyes on Elizabeth
who seems fixated upon something outdoors. “Do you want to sit with
me?”

“I’m fine here.”

Emma begins to eat. It has been a long time
since she has had a home-cooked meal—even if the circumstances are
rather questionable, she is quite grateful. The eggs are cooked to
perfection, and the bacon is crispy and not fatty. The toast is
buttered, overly buttered, just as she always liked it. “Thank you
again… Elizabeth.”

“Huh?” Elizabeth whispers a she turns away and
looks to Emma. Outside the window, a small grouping of clouds is
besieging the morning sun.

“I found the chalk sun,” Emma says as she drinks
a glass of orange juice. “It was a little ham-fistedly obvious.
What is on the other side?”

“I don’t feel right,” Elizabeth whispers as she
places her elbows upon the table and buries her face in her
hands.

Emma gets up and rushes to Elizabeth side. She
places her hands upon Elizabeth’s shoulders. “You’re cold…”

Elizabeth looks to Emma. Her blue eyes dark back
and forth as her breathing slows. “Who am I?”

“You’re Elizabeth…” Emma whispers as she catches
Elizabeth as she collapses from the chair. Emma begins to freak out
as her face turns blue. Her breathing has stopped completely. She
places Elizabeth down to the floor. She has to get to the phone and
call an ambulance—despite the fact how strange this will all
seem.

Just as Emma reaches the phone, she looks to
Elizabeth and sees her erupt and tear away like dying embers of a
fire. She allows the receiver to fall to the floor as she begins to
walk back to the kitchen table. All that remains of Elizabeth is a
small outline of black soot. The last of the glowing embers rises
into the air and disappears with a soft hiss.

Emma covers her mouth and represses a scream.
She does not know why this image fills her with such horror—it is
not as though she has not witnessed this transformation before.
However, this time, she felt something. Emma felt closeness to this
creature, this… human? She was not the terrifying ghost she was
before; she was vulnerable, and caring.

The light from the kitchen window grows brighter
as the clouds retreat and allow the sun to stream back into the
kitchen.

With a terrible gurgling gasp for air, Elizabeth
reappears upon the floor. There is no grand entrance, no sign of
her return—she simply exists again. Elizabeth begins to contort her
body in odd ways as she struggles to get back to her feet. Her
breathing is heavy and tormented as though she has just escaped
some kind of hell.

Emma watches in disbelief, her feet are glued to
the very spot by the shock of it all. As she allows the fear to
wash away, she rushes to Elizabeth and helps her back up to a
sitting position on the table. “Are you… Are you alright?”

“Where…” Elizabeth manages between heavy
breaths. “Where did I go?”

“I don’t know. You were here, and then you just
kind of disappeared—you kind of burned away to nothing. It was
terrible. It was just like the first time we met.”

Elizabeth begins to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says as she places her arms
around Elizabeth. The warmth of her skin has returned. It is almost
as though this is a completely different person than who visited
her the first time. There was no vulnerability in the first
visitor—she seemed like a much stronger, resolved presence.

“That first night… I kind of remember.”
Elizabeth whispers as she attempts to compose herself. She wipes
away the tears with the short sleeve of her white dress. “As the
sun is—so am I. I never realized it would hurt so much.”

“It was the clouds then?” Emma asked as she
looked out the window and to the sky beyond. “When the sun set the
first night you disappeared.”

“I feel weak.”

“You should rest,” Emma says as she takes
Elizabeth by the hand. As she leads the girl up the stairs to the
second floor she finds it strange that she has come to care so
much, so quickly, for someone who has brought her a message of
doom—a message of her nightmares becoming a stark reality not just
for Emma, but for all.

“This is your bed,” Elizabeth protests as Emma
helps her beneath the covers.