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Ramona and Heather were right in the thick of the Latin spell, but the smoke hadn't started swirling like last time. Ramona didn't know if there was something wrong, or what. She didn't dare stop to talk to Heather about it, because she knew if they stopped, they would have to start all over again. It sure as heck was easier to do the spell without the violent winds around them, but it was also easier to feel fairly ridiculous. Like whatever they were doing wasn't making any difference. Like it was just empty, silly words. In the distance, Ramona could hear the clock in the center of town striking midnight. If anything, with each strike of the clock, everything got more still. The candles didn't even flicker. And the smoke rose lazily, tendrils of it mixing with the smoke from the smudges.
Voices rang out above them. The monsters had entered the library again. That was okay, Ramona told herself. She wasn't going to let it distract her. She did nothing but concentrate on the spell, on speaking at the same time as Heather. Heather squeezed her hand encouragingly.
It was like before, except this time, the monsters didn't all rush down the steps. Ramona could hear them traipsing down the stairs slowly, languidly. It was as if they had recognized the error of their ways last time, and this time, they were more organized. Fear crawled up Ramona's back, writhing and alive. She stared at the page of the spell book, forced herself to think about nothing except reading the words.
The monsters circled them. Ramona didn't look up, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see that they didn't look like the people she knew anymore. Their faces had stretched, gone long and pale. Then she felt the first set of claws in her skull and she could see that there were long needle sharp icicle fingers on Heather's head as well. She kept reading.
The claws dug into her skin, drawing blood. A long, thin, bone-hard arm wrapped itself around her neck and got tighter. Ramona kept reading.
They were trying to pull her away from Heather, but she grasped Heather's hand as tight as she could. Her knuckles had gone white from the strain of it.
It was getting harder to speak now. The arm around her neck was tightening against her vocal chords, against her windpipe. But even as she felt the last of her air go from her lungs, she mouthed the last few words of the spell.
All around her, the monsters disappeared, bursting into golden dust. And then, each of the candles burned bright and high, the flames climbing up three feet. There was a whoosh, and bright, hot air rushed past Ramona's face. She heard a thousand cries. Cries of freedom, she hoped.
And then all the candles went out, and the smudges stopped burning, and she and Heather were plunged into darkness.
They had no problem driving out of Elston. Neither of their cars stalled. They drove out to Interstate 81, left West Virginia, and entered Virginia, but even though the speed limit dropped five miles, they kept up their speed. The dark sky looked like warm velvet to Ramona. She felt exhausted, but still very alert. She felt, as she drove, like she could really breathe for the first time in years. The air was so sweet, she rolled down all the windows in her car, let the rush of it bathe her in its freshness. The world felt like a wide-open mystery, hers to solve. An adventure, hers to conquer. Ramona cranked the music on her radio, and she felt like she was flying.
They were hungry, so they stopped at a Denny's off I-81 and ordered food. The Denny's was lit with yellow lights that buzzed overhead. The crowd inside was a mix of drunks who'd just left the bar and of early risers. Old and young. Their table had a few crumbs on it and country music blared on the radio. But Ramona and Heather hardly cared. It was just so good to be out of Elston and to be free. To be on their way, the highway stretching in front of them, a ribbon of opportunity. Ramona got nachos, even though she was skeptical about Denny's nachos. They just looked so good, and she'd been eyeing them on Denny's menus for some time. Their waitress brought them coffee.
As Heather emptied pack after pack of sugar into hers, she said, "I guess it worked."
"Yeah," said Ramona, pouring creamer into her coffee.
They stirred their coffees. They looked at each other, both grinning. Then they each took a sip. The coffee tasted good to Ramona. Simple. Not fancy. Not like the overpriced, over-styled drinks at The Holy Grind.
"So," said Heather, "when we get to Richmond, we get to decorate our apartment however we want, and that will be awesome, because Rick and I never had similar decorating tastes."
"Oh my God, I know," said Ramona. "Your house looked like a fifty-year-old lived there or something."
"Yeah. And I want to do something kind of funky. Like with mod greens and maybe some brown or something."
"Oooh, I like that. And we could get chunky vases. You know, like those square ones."
"Yeah, that would be fun."
"And I also want one of those wooden dish drainers in the kitchen. I love the way those look."
"We'll totally need a dish drainer, considering how much we both adore washing dishes."
Both of them laughed.
A shadow fell over their table, but the girls were too engaged in each other to notice. "Maria, who was waiting on you before, had to go home because her kid is sick, so I said I'd take her tables," said a voice above them, one with a deep Texan drawl.
The girls looked up at their new waitress, and the smiles froze on their faces.
"My name's Dawn," said the waitress. "And I'll be serving you for the rest of the evening."
That's it, everyone. If you're wondering about this Dawn waitress and what's going on with that, I'm going to have to leave that up to you.
This ending is meant to be like your typical 80s horror movie ending, where the monster has one last gasp.
No sequels are planned for Brighter. If you're interested in getting updates on my writing, visit the main page and enter your email address in the form.
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Copyright (c) 2010 Valerie Chambers