Dead at 15

The girl looked up. Her mother pulled the roast lamb out of the oven. She recoiled. Being a vegetarian, she could barely stand the thought of eating the poor defenseless animal. She was, however, careful to keep her mouth shut about it around the family. There were already too many upsets in

“October, what veggies would you like tonight dear?” I held my pen poised above the journal in front of me and looked to the tray of delicious smelling roast vegetables Mom held.
“Everything – wait. What is that?” I asked as Mom lifted the steaming bowl sitting next to the stove.
“Peas?” She replied innocently.
“Okay, I’ll have everything except those.”
“No meat tonight, Honey?” There were a number of things I would have liked to say to the woman in response, but I held my tongue.
“I am not going to suddenly change my mind about this, Mom.”
“Just checking love.”

I turned back to my writing. At the present time, I was writing a modern, true story. Generally, I preferred to write narratives set back in older times but at that moment, it felt right to describe my own life rather than one of a serial killer. I did miss my usual writing pattern though.

the family, though she tended to get annoyed when they pushed their beliefs down her throat – metaphorically speaking, of course.

“October!” December and November squealed as they bounced into the room, still with their costumes on and bags of candy in their hands. They acted like they were joined at the hip. They both had the same ivory skin but November had dark, chestnut brown hair and was of medium height while December had black hair and was a little on the short side.

“Yes?” I replied, slightly annoyed that they’d disturbed me. Mom was one thing but honestly, twice in a row.
“You’re going to-” November started.
“A party tonight, right?” December finished, speaking very fast. No, it was not one of those ‘finishing-each-other’s-sentences-moments-because-they-are-so-close’ things. It was December being impatient.
“Yes, I am.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Um…”
“It’s a Halloween party though right?”
“Of course, it is the thirty-first you know.”
“Well?”
“I have not thought about it.”
“You are so lucky you have us,” November said and December nodded.
“Well, what time does it start then?” December asked.
“Nine-thirty,” I said with a sigh. They really were not going to leave me alone.
“So there’s plenty of time for cake then!”

Yes, I was a Halloween child. Mom and Dad, being so fussy about having their children born in certain months (of course they planned their pregnancies, but that was all any of us would say on that subject) medically induced Mom's labor just to keep the pattern going. I was 'late' by a week apparently and I was born at eleven thirty six at night, lucky for them right?

“Yes. We will get cake,” I said to my two sisters.
“Yay!” They yelled and December hurried to get to the dining table first. It was an open plan kitchen-dining area. Dad walked into the room, saw her seated there, looking at him expectantly, and laughed.
“Here you go, kiddo,” he said and kissed her forehead, placing a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup in front of her. She grinned before speedily devouring it. She looked like a pig.

Dad then proceeded to walk over to me and kiss my cheek.
“Happy fifteenth October,” he said.
“Thank you Dad.” He then took off his blazer and threw it over the back of a chair. He used to be a special agent in the F.B.I. and still had a lot of friends there but he was forced to retire a few years ago when he got to the age of fifty-seven. Now he had his own accountancy firm in the city. He was something like a workaholic, refusing his retirement.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mom called as she began setting our plates on the table.

***

“Okay, how about the Toilet Paper Monster?” December suggested. November shook her head, sitting down on my bed while December paced.
“We’re not fourth graders anymore. She needs something classy,” she said with enthusiastic hand-gestures.
“Classy? But a T.P. monster is classic, bitch!”
“Hell no, it ain’t! I say a vampire or a…”
“BRAIN EATING ZOMBIE!”

I tuned out of their discussion and stared out the window. The sky was dark. That was it, a veil of black enveloping the land. No stars or moon embellished it. Just emptiness. All I could see out there were dim lights from houses or streetlights. A fair amount of little kids had already gone home after trick or treating but there were still the odd ones or preteens wandering down the street. The teenagers were all getting ready for the party. Apparently everyone was going to be there.

“October!” They yelled, snapping me out of my daze, wearing identical grins.
“Yes?”
“A witch!”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Don’t mind if we do!” And they cackled manically. Something told me that I should have been afraid but I had lived with these…things all of their lives, and for a good portion of mine too.

***

The girl looked up at the house. Music blared but the eerie atmosphere drowned every ounce of courage she had. The neighborhood seemed utterly sinister with only the light from the street lamps. The hairs on her neck stood up but her father had already left, vanquishing all hope she had of getting out of the place without uncomfortable silences and conversations. She was fifteen. She could handle it. The girl repressed the urge to shudder and bit her tongue, surely she’d

“What?” I snapped, expecting some jerk to have knocked my journal, causing me to draw a line across the page. Oh how I hated that. Instead, I met the eyes of my friend Olivia.
“Gosh, P.M.S. much?”
“Ugh, sorry, I was preoccupied.”
“You look actually scary! Wow.”
“Well it is Halloween you know.”

I quickly looked down at her costume. A nurse outfit, showing cleavage made my one of those push-up-bras or something. December always said they were called ‘wonder-bras’ because when the bra comes off, you wonder where ‘they’ have gone. Not mature at all, but true I guess. Olivia also wore red stiletto heels which I bet she got in the city. That, or she raided her mom’s closet. Her mom was infamous for not being the most ‘sophisticated’ woman, if you know what I mean.

“But October, I mean, it’s also your birthday. You should look hotter.” My jaw dropped slightly. I was already in a corset dress, my hair was tied up under my witch’s hat and my make-up was done all Goth-like. I even thought I looked attractive. I mean the corset did amazing things to my practically non-existent chest – even if I could not breathe properly.
“You have seen ‘Mean Girls’ too many times Olivia and for your information, I thought I looked good,” I hissed and stalked off, answering Olivia’s cries of remorse with my middle finger.

***

The girl was seated on a recliner in a dark corner, coolly observing the masses of people groping and making out with each other. She rolled her eyes when she saw the table with booze. A guy from her class then walked past, obviously intoxicated, and threw up on the floor. She cringed in repulsion. This was a fifteen-year-old kid. He couldnot handle his alcohol. Not to mention, it was totally stupid. It appeared she was one of the only people in the house with at least a slither of common sense.
It had been almost an hour and her friend had not come and found her to beg for forgiveness. Then the door burst open. A man wearing a grim reaper mask similar to the one from the movie ‘Scream’ entered, carrying a

Holy shit, he was carrying a gun – a rifle by the look of it. That was no fake. I crawled off the recliner I was sitting on silently and curled up behind it. I pulled out my cell phone and entered ‘911’ on the screen, just to be safe. Then a gunshot rang out. Screams sounded, then more gunshots. I counted them. He got to four, five, six shots, reloaded and then there were another six shots. He continued this I forget how many times. Everyone was screaming, but it seemed that every time somebody scrambled for a window or door, there were more gunshots and collapsing sounds. One bullet hit the window. The room was now silent, apart from whimpering sounds and the heavy thudding footsteps of who I assumed to be the gunman.

My hands started shaking but I pressed the ‘call’ button on my phone. A few rings then,
“911, what is your emergency?”
“I need the police,” I whispered.
“You will have to speak up.”
“I need the police!” I shrieked.

I felt a warm breath on my neck, and goose bumps formed immediately on my skin. I dropped my phone and turned my face upward to see the barrel of the gun, pointed at my forehead, and a ‘Scream’ mask behind it, sprayed with blood.

Common sense would’ve been to run.

October Kathleen Lambert
10/31/92-10/31/07