The Rising

chapter 2,Emma's POV

Laying here, I wondered what day it was in the mortal world. Being immobilized made me realize how much of the small everyday things I took for granted. Losing all hope, I began to speak out to any God that would listen. As a child I remembered my grandma telling me that if I wanted something enough, all I had to do was pray to God to give me the strength to attain that object.

For what seemed like hours, I screamed out to whoever would listen.

"Please, I need to get up!"

"Please let me rise from this concrete floor!"

I wasn't a very religious person so didn't really think anything would come from these exclamations. I tried with tremendous force to close my eyes. I felt nothing. I was nothing.

In times of desolation, I often used humor to lighten the mood. Two years ago, our house had burned down in a tragic cupcake accident. I remember running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to salvage everything I could before the lethal smoke reached my lungs. Once my family and I escaped, we had to live in our car for about a week. I remember saying that at least we wouldn't have to clean our house anymore.

Laying here, knowing I was dead, I laughed at the thought that at least I would not have to worry about menstruation anymore. As I laughed, I felt no air coming in our out of me. I was becoming hysterical.  As I was laughing, my body began to move involuntarily. I was levitated into the air, my arms began to rise horizontally, like the esteemed Christ figures.

Suddenly, I was dropped on my feet. Was this my free will or was there something more sinister happening?

I looked down at my body with intense examination. I looked perfect. I was wearing my favorite black dress and platform sandals to match. My hair was curled to perfection. Not a single hair out of place. Gaining the control of my legs, I walked around a bit. Looking at the spot I was previously in, I screamed in horror. My lifeless carcass was delicately laying on this concrete floor. My eyes were still open, meaning whatever happened to me, I saw it all. The thought of that made me sick. I smiled because at least my makeup still looked good although I was covered in dust. My bluish purple fingernails and fingertips detracted me from my makeup. There was no denying, I was as dead as it gets.

I wondered, how long has my body been here? Were my parents even looking for me?

Surrounding my body was a rough and yellow old rope with my foundation stained on it. What startled me was the fact that there was an empty orange bottle of Cyanide pills with the white and yellow pills surrounding me. What perplexed me was the fact that I was not depressed. Suicide was not something I would partake in.

Roaming around this concrete building, I frantically searched for an escape. Screaming for help, I remembered nobody would hear my body-less screams. I remembered the stereotypical facet of Hollywood ghosts, mostly the fact that they could walk through walls. I gave it a shot and ended up crashing into the wall; luckily, I felt no pain.

Looking around, I begin to notice more features of this room. I see that there's an old television set with the wires frayed and cut off. There are no doors or windows in here, simply darkness. In the right corner there is an old bookcase. I figure if I'm going to be here for the rest of eternity, I might as well enjoy a good book. examining the bookcase, I notice books like the ever famous Hamlet. Looking at the book, I realize pages are missing. What a killjoy. I suddenly spot my favorite book, To Kill a Mockingbird. Screaming with joy, I grab the novel. Instantaneously, the bookcase opens to reveal a door. Having read the diary of Anne Frank, I know this is my only exit.

The shivers run down my spine as I realize I was put here in an attempt to be hidden from anyone finding me. Disappointment runs through me as I reach for the door, realizing it is locked. I sit on the floor and begin to weep, I will never get out of here.

I notice that my burgundy leather purse is sitting on the bookcase. With exaltation, I reach for my purse and begin to empty its contents. I find the normal things like my wallet, credit cards, lipsticks.

"So I wasn't robbed" I say turning to the bookcase.

Thinking everything was there, it dawns on me that my car keys were missing. I remembered that I was driving my car to a concert. I look inside my wallet and see the ticket.

It says, " Paul Ramirez with special guest Adaira, doors open at 11pm"

The date says October 8th.

"So I do remember driving to the concert, that must count for something right?" I say questioningly.

Inside a small pocket in my purse, I find my cellphone. Of course, it is dead. In that same pocket, I find a key. Knowing it is not my house or car key, It must be the key to this door. I quickly stick it in the lock and turn it. It unlocks. I slowly open the door. The door creaks while spiderwebs and dust fall from the door jamb. My eyes are overwhelmed from the light that enters from the outside. Stepping outside, I notice that it must be about noon. Looking around, I am in a forest filled with shrubbery and tall trees.

How far am I from town? I did not know my town, Vixville, even had forests. I take a seat on a flat and dirty rock. I sit there, taking everything in. I try to cry but it seems as if I am completely dry. I fall off the rock and continue to lay on the damp forest floor, not caring about anything that might lurk in the dirt. I lay there for hours.