Vivienne

Minutes passed while Denise whistled to the soft crooning of Frank Sinatra coming from the speakers.  Misty and dense, the fog clouds that had settled over the road parted for Denise as the big car forced itself through. 

-Neese-

 Shock and fear pulsed rapidly through Denise, raising the hair on her neck and creating chill bumps over her arms to the edges of her short sleeved dress.  Denise reached for the volume and turned it down and waited a few seconds as the car's engine slowed and the vehicle lost momentum.  “No…I couldn’t have heard that.”  Denise took a deep breath and laughed to herself, “It’s the fog and my imagination.”  Pushing the unknown whisper to the back of her mind, Denise turned up the volume on the radio once more and bounced happily in the seat as she once more picked up her pace.

Comforted by the fact she’d traveled down to Petersburg many times along this particular road, Denise peered the best she could to see the shapes of the trees that she was most familiar with.  Spotting the thick maple that her parents carved a heart into with their initials told the young woman she only had a few more minutes before she would reach the outskirts of the small city.

Shifting her eyes to look into the rearview mirror, Denise’s breath caught in her chest just as an image of a gray clad and bloody soldier appeared from the fog.

-BANG!-

Between the ghostly figure and the new car that shouldn’t have backfired, Denise slammed on the brakes and caused the car to weave onto the embankment.  Sliding off the road, the car skidded over the uneven and soft ground until Denise hit a heavy bump where she thought she’d struck a person.  With both feet stamped down on the brake,  Denise finally turned the wheel in the attempt to get back on the paved surface.  Unable to regain full control of the car, Denise ended up sliding about another hundred feet until it stopped sideways and half in the dirt.  

Denise laid her head on the giant steering wheel for a few seconds, trying to grasp what just happened. “Okay, okay…”  She quickly wiped the forming tears from her eyes. “I’m okay…”  Gaining her sense of direction, Denise slowly brought the car to a safe spot on the side of the road and turned on the flashers. “This can’t be happening.”  Denise told herself and walked along the foggy road looking for what she could have hit.

Passing the tracks where the tires of the Bel-Aire ripped up the dirt, Denise finally found what she was looking for. “Unbelievable.”  She muttered as she spotted a large furry and bleeding opossum.  Denise walked up to the half squished animal as it struggled for its last few breaths.  Entranced, Denise stood over the broken body of the animal as it let it last breath into the fog.  Entranced with the black eyes that were now peering up at her, Denise mindlessly pulled off her gloves to scratch her right palm. “Dead but not gone.”  Denise stood up and wrinkled her rounded nose, “Nasty little bugger..you’re gone now.” Denise then picked up the corpse by the tail and tossed it into the woods.  Making her way back to the car, Denise walked around and closely inspected the bumper for any damage or blood. “Perfect!”  She announced with a certain amount of glee as the statement echoed through the trees.

Fed up with the delays, Denise got back in the car and pulled away from the small accident. “No such things as ghosts.” Determined to put all of the evening's strangeness behind her, Denise sang along with the various artists on the stereo to pass the time and distance until she reached Petersburg.

Fate seemed to step in and right when the song “Rock around the Block” finished, the fog that surrounded Denise parted and displayed the lights of Petersburg.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Denise took in the sight of a large and well lit park where couples walked leisurely hand in hand and occasionally laughed or stole a quick peck on the cheek. “Amour.”  Denise whispered to herself, thinking about how her dad used the single French word while talking to her mother.

Driving for a few more minutes, Denise passed through the gates of the small school and its simple lighted sign that read “Southside Academy for Creative Arts”.  Driving until she found an empty space in the car park, Denise shut off the engine just after she’d heard the DJ announce the time. “Whew.  Ten minutes to spare.”  Glancing up occasionally at the other girls hastily making their way into the main building, Denise gathered her bag of supplies and headed into the large ‘T’ shaped brick school.

Designed as an all girls finishing school, Denise knew that she was one of the few seniors that would actually graduate from the institution at the end of the fall semester.  Among her art classes, Denise had been forced to attend and pass classes in sewing, housekeeping, cooking and even etiquette with the other girls her age.  Initially against her parents wishes, Denise attended the few intellectual classes for lower level calculus and chemistry that the academy offered and used the knowledge she’d gained on the farm itself.

“Soybeans.”  Denise recalled quietly as she walked up to the doors of her school.  Thick and rich soybean plants the summer after her first year in school had been the trigger for her father to stop most of his antics about her attending school.  Simply removing manure and replacing it with certain nitrates, Denise nearly doubled the output in the small section of the field her dad allowed her the chance to prove the school’s usefulness.

“Denise?!”  A girl snapped her fingers trying to get Denise’s attention. “You’re blocking the door.”

Chemical makeup and soil disappeared from Denise’s mind and she blinked back to the present. “Oh..Tatum..Sorry.”  Denise stepped to the side and pulled the door open at the same time. “I hope I am not going to make you late.”

Shaking her platinum blonde hair, Tatum smiled. “Nope.  I am going to the same class as you silly.”  Tatum poked lightly on Denise’s temple. “Bakers class…We get a new assignment tonight.”  Tatum grabbed Denise’s hand and pulled her into the building, “Anything is better than drawing another bowl of fruit.”  Tatum’s light southern accent echoed in the hallway.

“I don’t know, I was thinking about a picnic scene at The Crater.”  Denise hooked her arm through Tatum’s and carefully peered sidelong into her friend's gentle chestnut eyes. 

Bouncing as the two made their way to the classroom, Tatum followed up with what Denise mentioned. “The Crater?  Why are you always so..”  Tatum looked up trying to gather the word she wanted and then grinned, “..almost macabre?”  Curling her eyebrows and looking down at Denise’s bag, Tatum pointed. “Your mom makes the best food.  I think that is a meatloaf sandwich of all things.”

“What is so creepy about it now?”  Denise caught the hint from her friend. “If you want, you can have it.  I assume you didn’t eat because you spent your time in the park with a certain guy?”

Jamming her hand into the big bag, Tatum feverishly opened the great smelling sandwich and took a huge bite then covered her rosy painted lips in the vain effort to look ladylike.  “So, damned good.”  She quietly burped and hid her face from view using Denise’s shoulder.  Clearing her throat, “You always pick or do things that are a bit dark.”  Tatum peeked up and waved at the other giggling girls, “Let’s use the fruit bowl as an example.  You made them dead and rotting.”

“Language!”  Denise nearly screeched and pulled her friend along. “You said it yourself, why another …damned… fruit bowl.”  She paused, “I put my own outlook on it.  I was telling Baker that the assignment was dull and dying.”

Flashing her hazel eyes in feigned shock, “Why Miss Crow, such language.”  Tatum took another bite and handed the other half back to Denise. “Was the assignment of making a cartoon also dead in your opinion?”  

Denise closed the sandwich and put it back in her bag, “What do you mean?  It was a cartoon.”

“A vampire crawling around in Blandford Cemetery.” 

When the two reached the door to the classroom Denise finally responded, “I watched ‘The Vampira Show’ the night before.”  Denise walked to her station where her easel held a blank canvas. “I only drew my version of Vampira, you know the host?”

Tatum leaned over and whispered, “Yes, I know the show.”  She looked at the rest of the class filling their spaces quietly. “The assignment was a hero, not a vampire lady.”

Denise dug out the sandwich again and handed it to Tatum. “I don’t know why you put it back.”  After taking a quick breath, Denise finished. “I thought this was art class?  Who says a vampire can't be a hero?”

Greedily taking the remainder of the sweetly scented sandwich, Tatum smiled. “This is like magic.  Too bad you barely passed cooking.”

Denise winked, “I’ve been cooking since I was four.  I didn’t want to be there.”  Denise waved Tatum away when their professor, Doctor Baker made his way into the center of the classroom.