Ruth Writes

She feels herself being pulled out of her slumber. She can hear the traffic outside her window. She can feel the softness of her sheets under her fingers. She can see the blurry light of day peaking in under her blinds through her closed eyelids. Slowly, she lets the rest of herself come alive, wiggling her toes, uncramping her legs, and opening her eyes. She basks in the tiny moment of having no thoughts at all until it all comes crashing through her in an overwhelming wave.

The last few days have wiped her of all her energy, and she’s spent more time sleeping than anything else. The funeral had been over a week ago, but her mind still craves the quiet emptiness that sleep brings with it. Once she’s awake and joining in with the world around her, a heavy sadness wraps itself around her like a weighted blanket, making everything harder than it should be.

She thought she’d have more complex feelings after the death of one of her best friends but the only thing she feels is sad, so terribly, simply sad. She’s not mad at the world or taking it on as a lesson learned, she’s just sad.

She hears her name being called from a distance, getting closer and louder with heavy footsteps thudding across the carpets. Her bedroom door is flung open by her other best friend, Paige.

‘Jamie, something crazy is going on,’ she says frantically, her locket that Julie gave her just before she passed hanging open in her hand. She sits up, pushing her hair out of her face.

‘What is it?’ she asks, feeling the sadness crawling up her back and encircling her shoulders.

‘Where’s your locket?’ She throws herself down on the bed beside her. Jamie wordlessly touches her matching locket that is resting on her chest.

‘You need to take it off and open it and then maybe I’ll be able to explain what’s going on,’ she says, panting slightly. Confused, she does as Paige says, unlocking the chain from around her neck, then sticking her fingernail in between the delicate doors and popping it open. A tiny piece of paper flutters out onto her duvet. As she picks it up to unfold it, Paige throws herself across the bed and reefs the blinds up, the sun almost blinding them both. The paper is torn and has words on it that don’t make sense.

Paige takes the paper from her hand and lines it up on the bed beside hers. Scrawled in small, familiar handwriting that tightens her sadness around her chest is an address and a simple instruction: go there. She looks up at Paige who is mirroring exactly how she is feeling. What the hell is going on? Why did Julie leave them this cryptic message? What is at that address?

‘Holy shit,’ she breathes. Paige is already standing up.

‘Come on then, I’ll drive. Let’s go figure out this strange message from our dead friend!’