Sweet Dreams Anna Maria

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Before. After. Anna cannot stop thinking of the accident and how everything led to be her fault. Each decision, each moment led to this one. Haunted by the memories of her lover, Anna is forced to relive the tragedy. That same moment, the second her beloved, Logan, died. Driven to insanity, Anna finds notes left over by her love that seem to draw Logan to her once more.

Horror / Mystery
Myria Candies
Age Rating:

Chapter 1- After

I looked down at my shiny black shoes. The ruffled edge of my dress touched my knees and lingered there. I did the unthinkable. I came to the morgue owner after hours, asking, pleading to see him one last time. The morgue owner opened the door and stood tall. His gray dull eyes asked the question, “What do you want?”

The rims of my eyes began to overflow with tears until they were released. My vision blurred, my heart leapt and I fell to my knees. They hit the pavement hard. I sniffled as I tried to get the words I needed out, “Please, can I see him one last time?”

Those words, I had practiced them over and over. I had rehearsed them in the car all the way over here but yet, they sounded foreign leaving my mouth. I couldn’t see the expression of the morgue owner but I imagined it was out of disgust. Everyone had known what I had done. It was the talk of the town of Rainswood.

“I’m not supposed to-” The morgue owner began but then he paused; his next words sounded unsure, “I guess I could let you see him.”

I wiped rapidly at my eyes and stood. Pain shot in both of my knees and ached as I walked into the funeral home. It was an hour before the service and an hour before I was to make my speech.

The entered the foyer that was dressed in red. The victorian style of wallpaper was the first thing I noticed as we walked down the hall. Through the archway, I could see chairs lined up and a podium right next to where the casket is supposed to be.

The owner began to climb down a long series of wooden stairs. With each step we took the stair creaked under our feet. I was unsettled and unsure if I still really wanted to do this. Would he even be glad to see me? Of course not, he was after all dead.

As the owner and I reached the bottom of the stairs, I felt myself hesitate as he reached for the tall metal door in front of us. I held my breath as he opened it and the clean smell escaped from the room. Yet, something lingered there and that’s when I recognized it; the smell of death. The rotting taste in the back of the throat caused me to cough violently.

I saw the body. I saw it lying there on the cool metal table covered in a milky white sheet. I held my breath as I walked forward and placed a hand on the top of the sheet.

My breathing had returned at an alarming rate and my vision became distorted. I could barely see the sheet anymore as I sobbed. I raised my other hand and cupped my mouth, trying to suffocate my cries. Through a muffled sob I was finally able to say the words I needed to say to him, “I’m sorry, Logan.”

I was hoping these were words that would be able to bring him back to life. I was hoping these were words that would make everything okay but nothing happened. I fought myself as I began to remove the sheet from the body, slowly.

First, was his head. I saw his eyes closed as if he was asleep. I longed to see his once green eyes again yet, I know this would never happen. I looked to his pale lips, they parted slightly and I couldn’t help remembering all of the kisses we shared. All of the love we at one time had.

My hand shook and I dropped the blanket. I had become quiet and fought myself before I asked the question. The only question I needed to hear the answer to, “Can I have a moment alone?” I felt the words linger in the room. I felt the tense atmosphere build and the air grow heavy.

Finally, I heard the words, “Of course.” His voice was hesitant but he left and moments later, I was alone with Logan.

My Logan, who was captain of the football team, loved by everyone and had a scholarship to state. My Logan who loved me with all he had and I betrayed him. I would never be able to take back that night or take back the words I spat. I would have to live with the guilt.

I couldn’t handle it anymore. I burst out of the room, hiding my face. I passed by the morgue owner and ran up the stairs. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t tell all of the people who loved Logan what happened.

I couldn’t tell them it was my fault that Logan was dead.

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