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Authors: Brian Keene
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because I’d been unable to do so?
There are things I want to do in life. I want to have hobbies again. I want to become a backyard astronomer and take up amateur photography and fish in my trout stream more often. I want to ask my kids how their day was and rub my wife’s feet every night and take the dog for a long walk each and every day, rain or shine. I want to spend more time with my parents, and tell them that I appreciate them and that they are loved. I want to do all of these things, but I never do. I put them off until tomorrow, so sure that I’ll get them done… eventually.
But eventually doesn’t always happen. The girl on the glider had dreams, too. She had things she wanted to do. I stood there, flipping through the file. There were three articles about the accident. The first simply recounted the accident details, including statements from the State Police and the County Coroner. The second was the follow-up article that I was reading. The third was her obituary. I read them all, and got to know her. I learned about her dreams and wishes and desires. She’d put them all off for whatever reason, figuring they’d happen eventually… and then she died unexpectedly at the top of my driveway.
After I’d finished, I put the file away and left the building and came back home. The sky was overcast and gray. Death Storm 2009 was approaching. I wondered what I should do next. I couldn’t very well go to her parents, could I? Just show up and knock on their door and say, “Hi, I’m Brian Keene. The guy who writes those books? I’m sorry to bother you, but your daughter has been haunting my house this past year, and I was wondering if you could ask her to stop? I think she might not know that she’s dead. She seems to be trying to contact someone. Have you received any weird text messages lately?” They’d have me arrested. Or shoot me. Or both.
I decided to do a little magic. I’ve written enough about it that I know the basics. The most important part of magic, regardless of which discipline you’re practicing, is the act of naming. Names are power. If you know something’s true name, it gives you power over it.
I walked to the top of the driveway. The sun had just gone down and the road was extremely dark. There was very little traffic, on account of the impending snowstorm. I stood there, shivering, hands in my pockets, and stared at the spot where the accident had occurred. Without really knowing what I was going to say, I began to speak out loud.
“Hi. My name is Brian. Now you know my name. I know your name, too. I found it today. Your name is… I’m really sorry for what happened to you. I’ve got this theory that maybe you’re feeling a little lost. Maybe a little lonely? Maybe you’re not sure where your friends went? Maybe you keep texting them, but nobody is calling you back.”
I paused. The wind rustled the trees.
“Did you ever watch The X-Files ? I don’t know, maybe that was before your time. Maybe your parents dug it, though. I was a big fan of the show There was this one episode where Agent Mulder is hiding out on an Indian reservation, and one of the characters quotes an old Native American saying: ‘Something lives only as long as the last person who remembers it.’ I’m not sure how that applies to this situation, but I’m certain that your parents and your friends remember you.”
I paused again, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening. I didn’t need one of my neighbors going, “Oh, look. Keene is standing at the top of the driveway talking to imaginary people.”
When I was sure we were alone, I continued.
“I think you were sent here to teach me something. I think maybe that’s why you can’t pass on. See, I’m an agnostic when it comes to all of this spiritual stuff. I’ve tried Christianity and Buddhism and every other kind of ‘anity’ and
There are things I want to do in life. I want to have hobbies again. I want to become a backyard astronomer and take up amateur photography and fish in my trout stream more often. I want to ask my kids how their day was and rub my wife’s feet every night and take the dog for a long walk each and every day, rain or shine. I want to spend more time with my parents, and tell them that I appreciate them and that they are loved. I want to do all of these things, but I never do. I put them off until tomorrow, so sure that I’ll get them done… eventually.
But eventually doesn’t always happen. The girl on the glider had dreams, too. She had things she wanted to do. I stood there, flipping through the file. There were three articles about the accident. The first simply recounted the accident details, including statements from the State Police and the County Coroner. The second was the follow-up article that I was reading. The third was her obituary. I read them all, and got to know her. I learned about her dreams and wishes and desires. She’d put them all off for whatever reason, figuring they’d happen eventually… and then she died unexpectedly at the top of my driveway.
After I’d finished, I put the file away and left the building and came back home. The sky was overcast and gray. Death Storm 2009 was approaching. I wondered what I should do next. I couldn’t very well go to her parents, could I? Just show up and knock on their door and say, “Hi, I’m Brian Keene. The guy who writes those books? I’m sorry to bother you, but your daughter has been haunting my house this past year, and I was wondering if you could ask her to stop? I think she might not know that she’s dead. She seems to be trying to contact someone. Have you received any weird text messages lately?” They’d have me arrested. Or shoot me. Or both.
I decided to do a little magic. I’ve written enough about it that I know the basics. The most important part of magic, regardless of which discipline you’re practicing, is the act of naming. Names are power. If you know something’s true name, it gives you power over it.
I walked to the top of the driveway. The sun had just gone down and the road was extremely dark. There was very little traffic, on account of the impending snowstorm. I stood there, shivering, hands in my pockets, and stared at the spot where the accident had occurred. Without really knowing what I was going to say, I began to speak out loud.
“Hi. My name is Brian. Now you know my name. I know your name, too. I found it today. Your name is… I’m really sorry for what happened to you. I’ve got this theory that maybe you’re feeling a little lost. Maybe a little lonely? Maybe you’re not sure where your friends went? Maybe you keep texting them, but nobody is calling you back.”
I paused. The wind rustled the trees.
“Did you ever watch The X-Files ? I don’t know, maybe that was before your time. Maybe your parents dug it, though. I was a big fan of the show There was this one episode where Agent Mulder is hiding out on an Indian reservation, and one of the characters quotes an old Native American saying: ‘Something lives only as long as the last person who remembers it.’ I’m not sure how that applies to this situation, but I’m certain that your parents and your friends remember you.”
I paused again, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening. I didn’t need one of my neighbors going, “Oh, look. Keene is standing at the top of the driveway talking to imaginary people.”
When I was sure we were alone, I continued.
“I think you were sent here to teach me something. I think maybe that’s why you can’t pass on. See, I’m an agnostic when it comes to all of this spiritual stuff. I’ve tried Christianity and Buddhism and every other kind of ‘anity’ and
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