Mystery Contest Winner! LARISSA BERNARDES Larissa’s Mystery Contest Assignment was to write the ending to a mystery story. Kudos and congratulations to Larissa on her achievement. Unpredictable and intriguing plot twists declared Larissa’s ending a true winner.
When Eric returned to the parking lot, he stopped. He had parked next to the ridiculous Mommies Only parking spaces, but now, his car wasn't there. Eric scanned the parking lot, hoping that he had been mistaken, but no car. Here Humdinger’s story ended and then Larissa Bernardes’ Winning Ending began: He thought he had buried her along with his past. He began to panic. The doctors told him that the prescription medicine would do the trick. Now, she appeared to him again like some kind of shadow of his former self. Her hair burned in the eyes of the sunlight. It blinded him and he closed his eyes only to open them a moment later and see she was already next to him. He could taste the tears of her sweat flirting with the Chanel number 5 perfume. It was intoxicating. He smiled. Somehow, the sound of her voice calmed him. “I don’t know what to say and you always know exactly what to say.” He stared at her and she matched his gaze. Somehow, even after all the years, he knew this moment would come and her steady stare proved that she shared the same thought. As he looked out the windshield, he imagined the possibility of erasing the past and replacing it with wish fulfillment. Night took on the blackness of a movie theater. Slowly, the passing lights became cameras into another world: a time that no longer existed but will always exist in the mind of the spectator. He just watched and made no attempt at stopping her. Lately, he was feeling confused about his feelings. Maybe, love is just an illusion of hope created by the human psyche to convince ourselves we are not alone? Finally, after a five-minute walk, they arrived. They both looked down. It was his gravestone. It said he had died ten years ago. She looked at him with confusion. “Yes.” Eric frowns and walks off the set too, toward the parking lot. Eric looks to the left and notices that she is approaching him. He watches her hair waving in the air and thinks: she’s still wearing that pink dress. "Well, like your movie says: the history of art is the history of time traveling," she says and starts laughing.
© 2005 Chris Goebel-Part One ©2005 Larissa Bernardes-Part Two Read Larissa's Brief and Bizarre Bio Editor's Notes: Little details that Larissa added blended her story with the original, which is something to consider when writing together with other authors. She repeated phrases and descriptions ("to and fro," the dress) and characters visited the same places that were in the first part of this selection. She even added the Halloween element to fit with this months's holiday. Certainly, Larissa taught us some things about writing for this kind of contest and rule number one: look for a way to unify your piece with the first selection. Pen to Paper~ Chris Goebel
Surely, the car hadn't been stolen. After all, he drove a non-lustworthy clunker that only a fool would steal. Besides, it was
Eric had no one to call, no cell phone on him--he'd forgotten that at home this morning--no one knew he'd gone to the store. Actually, no one cared to know. If he regretted his single status, it was only during moments like these, when he had no girlfriend or wife to call. He could say the same for friends; he hadn't cared to hang out with anyone in particular. He shrugged his shoulders. That was his way; he was a loner.
The wind wavered from the summer heat, like a mirage, and she walked into it. Pink dress, lots of fabric flowing in the wind, long, flame red hair, long legs and a face he hadn't seen since her funeral ten years ago.
“Hello stranger”, she said. “It’s good to see you haven’t changed at all. I see you’re still slinking around like a cat.”
She interrupted the moment to suddenly ask, “What are your plans for today? Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”
“I can’t remember now. It’s strange. I think I was just heading back home until I found my car missing.” He then turned his head to the left and saw a little boy holding his mother’s hand. He had a Batman mask that he kept putting on then taking off. It struck Eric as odd since it was nowhere near Halloween.
She laughed. “You lost your car? That’s a new one. In any case, I have mine.”
“Perfect, I’ll drive.”
They both jumped into her old Volkswagen Golf. Another smell filled his body: crayon. Her car always smelled like a Crayola box.
“You haven’t changed either. Your car stinks the same.”
“You never minded when we were teenagers.”
“That’s because it brought me the hope of getting laid.”
He started the engine and they rode in silence. He imaged that the car had horse’s legs instead of wheels. He was tired of cars; it reminded him of moving coffins. He thought that the easier they try to make everything, the harder it all becomes. Then, as he was crowded with thoughts, night took day and the stallion legs raced quickly down the crowded byways. He wanted to remove the glass of silence and asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”
“No one in particular. No, I guess not and you?”
“No. I have not been seen by anyone.
“What do you mean by that?”
“That there’s been no one special in my life, that’s all.”
“Oh, okay”, she then paused. Where are we going? We just passed Starbucks.”
“I have an idea and it’s a secret.”
“Do I get a hint?”
“No, just sit back and pretend you’re riding a carriage. You are my lady and I am a mere servant attending to your wishes.”
With that, she was quiet again and staring out the window with her big anime eyes. The tips of her dress flowered all over the seat and the pink provided the light against the dark night. He wanted to touch her hair but he didn’t dare. He thought that maybe he went too far with the last comment. The final words they spoke to each other ended on a sour note.
He was twenty-five and they were lying next to each other in bed. The lighting was a soft red beginning from her hair and extending onto the walls of their bedroom.
“I was thinking that it was time we marry. We have been seeing each other since we were kids.”
“Well, off and on”, he answered.
“Yes, of course, we love each other but we’re not stupid.”
He looked at her skin. He touched her arm gently. He wanted to tickle her lightly into submission. “You know that I don’t have the money for that.”
She rolled her eyes. “And neither do I. Who cares? Why can’t you just say that you don’t love me? Why can’t you just say you don’t want to marry me?”
“That’s not true. One day I will marry you.”
“One day, one day? I don’t understand these if, then situations: either you want to marry me or you don’t.”
“You’re making everything black and white. Be logical: nothing is just yes-or-no.”
“ Yet, I know I love you. I know I want to marry you. There is no gray matter in that.”
Angrily, she got off the bed, put on her clothes and left silently.
His mind goes blank for a mere five seconds and then he continues: I’m no Hollywood type. I have no idea of how to rescue anyone. I can’t even rescue myself out of these stupid situations; out of the stupid questions marks inside my head.
“Eric, hello; Eric are you listening to me?” she asks looking perplexed.
“Huh, oh, I’m sorry. I was thinking about the past.”
“Let’s not talk about that. What is done is done.” She smiled meekly.
“It’s true. There is no sense in reliving the past.”
“And there’s no way of changing it, is there?”
“Well, I guess not. However, I’ve always considered the possibility of time travel.”
“The history of art is the history of time traveling,” she answered.
He was not sure what she meant by that. Yet, it didn’t matter since they had arrived at his chosen destination. They both stepped out of the car and looked directly at the rusty iron gates. It caused a foreboding feeling to gnaw at his insides as he looked at the bars that towered over them like something out of a horror movie.
“What is this? Why have you brought me here?” she asked.
“I wanted to show you something.”
They walked side-by-side and he reached out to grab her hand. She allowed it and they moved through the wet grass silently. The night air was cool and, strangely enough, bright lights circled around them.
“I don’t understand.”
“After our final argument, you left in such a hurry. You weren’t paying attention. You got into a car accident: a bad one. I was with you in the hospital for five days. It was awful.”
“Did I die?”
“And you?”
“I arranged your funeral and made a decision.”
“What was that?”
“That I would be the one to run out of the house and die. I just came back one last time to say good-bye.”
“I can’t believe that any of this is real. It must be some kind of joke.”
He laughed and kissed her on her forehead. He touched her hair softly. Reality is funny, he thought. It is the stupid human condition of hope.
They started heading back to the car and, when they arrived at the iron gates, the car was gone. The sky finally seemed limitless since reality or what they had supposed as reality no longer existed. Yes, in fact, everything was gone. The streets molded themselves into bright shining lights and the sky was limited to a green screen.
"Well, it's time: good-bye," he said to her, kissed her hand and walked off the studio set. She watched him leave the stage to yell, "Cut!"
The cast and crew relaxed. Eric walked over to her anxiously wanting to hear what her thoughts were.
“So, he asked her, what did you think?”
She smiles and says nothing. She begins to walk off the set toward her make-up trailer.
“I need a cigarette,” he thinks.
When he arrives, he stops. He had parked next to the ridiculous Mommies Only parking spaces, but now, his car wasn't there. Eric scans the parking lot, hoping that he had been mistaken, but no car. Surely, the car hadn't been stolen. After all, he drove a non-lustworthy clunker that only a fool would steal. Besides, it was midday, full parking lot, tons of directors and producers passing to and fro.
“My car is missing.”
“What?”
“The worst part is that my cigarettes were in the car.”
Eric sighed and looked up at the sky. It was strange day that had repeated itself in many different ways.
