Page 50
Story: Rules for Vanishing
The darkness crawls over Nick’s skin. Vanessa steps up to him. She puts a hand on his chest, rises to her tiptoes, and kisses him on the cheek.
He dissolves. She steps through the flurry of ash as every crow in the forest takes off in a storm of wings. No one moves. They stare, unfocused, into the forest. Except for Miranda, who watches the imposter, her anger electric. But she doesn’t interfere as Vanessa steps back onto the road and points.
VANESSA: Look, a crow.
They raise their flashlights, illuminating the last remaining crow.
CROW: Oh God. Oh God, what is that?
The crow screams again, and then flings itself into the air.
MEL: This is fucked up.
VANESSA: It was just a bird.
At the edge of the frame, Vanessa looks at Miranda, and presses a finger to her lips.
The phone swings as Kyle lowers it. The video ends.
INTERVIEW
SARA DONOGHUE
May 9, 2017
Sara’s hand is pressed to her mouth so hard that the skin around it blanches. Ashford closes the laptop.
ASHFORD: Miss Donoghue?
SARA: No. No, that can’t be—no, that’s not—
Her words devolve into incoherence, and she moans, rocking forward. Then she shoves back from the table, shooting to her feet. Her chair clatters to the ground. The table skids five inches, feet screeching on the concrete floor, and Ashford jerks out of his chair to avoid being struck. Abby steps forward, drawing the syringe from her pocket, but Ashford holds out a restraining hand and she stops, eyes fixed on Sara.
Sara covers her face with her hands and huddles with one shoulder against the wall, her breathing ragged.
SARA: We left him.
ASHFORD: Nick Dessen?
SARA: Nick. We left—we forgot him. We... how did we forget him?
ASHFORD: Do you remember him now?
Sara’s hands drop. She frowns, looking past Ashford, eyes unfocused.
SARA: I—no. Yes. I’m not sure. I remember something, but... She took him from us. And Vanessa—oh God. Poor Vanessa.
She scrubs tears from her cheeks. Then she sees Abby, still with the syringe out, though her arm hangs relaxed at her side.
SARA: What the hell is that?
ASHFORD: Just a mild sedative. We weren’t certain how you would respond. Sometimes this sort of thing provokes... adverse reactions.
SARA: What kind of adverse reactions?
ASHFORD: Seizures. Self-harm. Sudden violence.
Sara laughs nervously. She picks her chair up and takes her seat, sneaking another glance at Abby.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50 (Reading here)
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125