Rescued: The Visitor

This is a continuation from Rescued: The Gun

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You should have died.  No one wants you here. No one loves you.  No one would miss you if you were dead.  Do what your mother failed to do.  End your life.

Carrie pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.  She didn’t die.

The gun must have jammed.  She was about to check it when there was a knock on the door.  She stared at the door, then the gun.  Why answer the door?  She was about to die.  The knocking continued.  She tossed the gun aside, slightly annoyed.  She wasn’t sure she would be able to build up the courage to pull the trigger a second time.  She stood shakily to her feet, and wiped her watery eyes on the back of her hand.

Don’t answer the door! Don’t get up.  Pick up the gun!  The spirit was frantic. Her hand twisted the doorknob.  Don’t! Don’t do it!  Carrie opened the door.

The first thing she noticed about the man at the door was his suit.  Men in suits never came to her trailer.

“Umm…I’m sorry. My mother isn’t here,” Carrie told him.  The man looked too nice to be her mother’s boy friend, but who else could he be?  He looked her mother’s age.

“I’m not here to see your mother.  I’m here to see you,” the man said.  Did she know him? He was tall—a little over six feet.  His shoulders were broad and Carrie guessed that under that suit was well toned muscle.  He looked like an athlete, but his face looked more like it belonged in an office than a football field.   His face was clean-shaven, his dark hair was closely cut to his scalp, and his chocolate colored skin was smooth and clear.

She didn’t recognize him, and she was sure she would remember if she’d seen him before.  It wasn’t everyday she saw a bodybuilder/lawyer walking around the trailer park.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”  Her tone was a little sharp.  It was a little unnerving to be alone while a guy that could be a line-backer stood at her door.  The gun in the room behind her didn’t even have bullets.

“You can call me Geff,” he said.  His voice was soft, but strong at the same time.  “I am here to bring you much needed peace.”

“Peace?  Are you some kind of preacher?”  Carrie asked.  She didn’t feel like listening to someone go on and on about how much God loved her.  No one loved her.

No one loves you, echoed the blackness hovering around her.

The man chuckled, “In some ways, I suppose I am a preacher.  A preacher delivers messages from God.  My job is the same.”   Carrie was confused.  Was he a preacher or wasn’t he?

“Look, I don’t have time right now to…” she started.

“Don’t have time?”  Geff looked confused, “But didn’t you call for help?”  Was this guy with the police? He could be from the FBI judging by his stature and immaculate suit.  All he needed were dark sunglasses.

“I didn’t call anyone.  You must have the wrong house,” she told him.

That’s right.  You don’t need his help.  He can’t help you anyway, whispered the voice. 

He can’t help me, thought Carrie, No one can.

“There is help for you Carrie,” the man said.  Carrie was startled.  How did he know her name? Maybe he did work for the FBI. That would explain why he knew her name, but even an FBI agent couldn’t read minds.  It must have been a coincidence.

He lies! said the voice. There is no help, not for you. 

“Look, I don’t know who told you to come over here, but I didn’t call anyone to come help me,” she told him feeling a little freaked out by his accurate guessing skills.

Tell him to leave.

“You should leave.”

“’God—if there is a god—help me now.’ Aren’t those your words?” asked Geff.  Carrie couldn’t answer.  She was astonished that this man knew her exact words.   She didn’t even say them out loud.  He couldn’t be from the FBI.

“Who are you?” her voice whispered.

“I am someone sent to help show you the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Come,” he held out his hand, “Come with me, and I will show you.”  Did this man really think that she would go with him?  She wasn’t five.  She wasn’t going anywhere with a strange man, no matter how expensive his suit was.

Shut the door! Shut the door! Howled the spirit.

She started to shut the door.

“You aren’t an accident,” said Geff looking into her eyes.  “No one was made by chance. You were made with a purpose.”

The words stopped her.  Could it be true? For some reason hearing the words from this man made her want to believe she was more than her mother’s mistake.  Could she have a purpose?

You don’t.  You have no purpose.  There is no purpose to a life like yours.

Maybe I am an accident, Carrie thought, Maybe there is no purpose to my existence, but maybe—just maybe—there is some reason to my life. 

But there isn’t, protested the ugly spirit, Don’t listen to his stupid lies!

“What purpose?” she asked. “What purpose could I have? You don’t know anything about me, or my life.”

“There is only one who truly knows the purpose of each individual’s life.  I can’t tell you what your purpose is, but I can assure you that you do have one.”

Carrie’s anger stirred at the words. This man was just playing with her.  He didn’t know the meaning of life anymore than she did.  If he couldn’t tell her straight out, then she was an accident, a mistake.

You are a mistake. Don’t let this man’s words deceive you.  Your whole life is a mistake.

“I have a purpose huh, but you can’t tell me what it is.  It sounds to me like there is no purpose.  There is no reason to life.”

The man’s deep brown eyes were compassionate as he spoke, “There are things that you can’t see, Carrie.  There are things that can only be revealed. Do you want your eyes to be opened?  Do you want to see what is unseen?”

No!  Don’t listen to his ridiculous ramblings.  There is nothing beyond what you can see.  Only the things seen by your eyes are real. There is nothing more than that.

“Do you want to see truth?”

“Yes.”

 

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The story continues:  The Boxes

Previously:  The Gun

This is the second part of a five part series called Rescued.

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7 thoughts on “Rescued: The Visitor

  1. I got goosebumps reading this! I wrote a suicide scene recently too. I’m not sure that the internal monologue adds anything to this story. I kept reading because I wanted to see what happened to the girl. A lot of her inner turmoil is already implied. I would cut it back some, but it’s up to you 🙂 I actually thought this guy was going to be a demon. Sounds like he is an angel instead?

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    1. My goal is to make readers feel something, even goosebumsp. 🙂 I’ll have to check out the suicide scene you wrote if it’s posted. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on what could make my story better. I am a little confused though. Is the internal monologue you mentioned the voice of the demon? I think everything italicized in this scene is the demon, not Carrie (there is one line that’s Carrie’s). I may not have made it very clear in this part. I think I explained it better in the first part, “Rescued: The Gun.” Does that make a difference that it’s not Carrie’s inner voice but a spirit’s, or is it still cumbersome to read? I may need to make some changes. I just want to be clear about what I should change.
      And yes, (spoiler alert!!!) the guy is an angel. 🙂

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      1. Oooooh, okay, I didn’t realize that was a demon talking. I thought it was her thoughts. I reread it and I’m not sure how someone would know that it’s a demon instead of her own internal monologue? If this is a sequel to another story that explains why I was confused 😄 Given that info, it makes more sense. Maybe add in a line at the beginning before this story that this is a sequel to “Rescued: The Gun.” This piece stands by itself with the exception of the demon’s voice. Given that it’s a demon speaking, I don’t think it’s redundant. If it was her own internal monologue then it would be redundant. It might be nice if you can give a bit of description of the demon’s voice. That sounds weird, but let me explain 😄 In my fanfic story I had two characters possessed by an alien. So I described her voice in a way, like a thrumming in the back of his mind that slowly takes the shape of a woman’s voice. If you can think of something it would add to the story 🙂

        I can’t post my fics online anymore because I want to eventually submit them to literary magazines :/ If you e-mail me I can send you the suicide intro. My e-mail is thepaperbutterfly@yahoo.com The story starts out with the suicide, so you could just read the intro, which is about 400 words. I actually started posting my stories on a password protected literary critique site. it’s free to join and post 🙂 Posting your story on a password protected literary critique site is okay with most literary magazines and it isn’t considered publishing. Here’s the link: http://www.critiquecircle.com/

        The site does have additional features if you pay for membership, but you can still post your stories and get critiques without paying anything. The membership is more important if you are posting a novel, but even then, you can still post it for free. It’s just not as organized. It’s hard to explain. It took me a day or two to figure it out because I’m horrible with technology 😄

        I wrote a post about Critique Circle a while ago. It’s one of the better literary critique sites. You can sign up and just read and critique if you want. You are not obligated to post anything. I find it is also helpful to read a story and then the critiques. Although you can’t read the critiques for a given story until after it’s finished it’s time in the story queue or you have written a critique for that particular story. They do that so readers aren’t biased by previous reviews. I’m not going to lie, reviewers are honest, sometimes brutally honest. I haven’t seen anyone be mean though, and if they are you can report and block them. I’ve been flamed in fanfiction, and I haven’t seen anything like that yet. Sometimes I disagree with the advice. The moderators are really good about keeping the site a friendly and safe environment.

        There is one guy on another literary critique site that told me my writing was boring and that I needed to pick up a book on how to write 😄 I mean he was nice about it, but in the end I disagreed with him. He reworded the intro to my suicide story the way he thought it should be written, and it was horrible, so I kind of just ignored most of his advice. He says the same thing to everyone actually. I get what he is saying, but I don’t agree with it. He’s over at Critique Circle too, but not as active there. I just mention it because you might run in to him or a reviewer like him. Not every review will actually be applicable. Most of the advice has been really helpful though and there are many good writers on that site. My name is Bunny9 if you join. The first half of my suicide story is posted there. Finishing up a revision of the second half now.

        I’ll check out your gun story 🙂 I had somehow unsubscribed to you and like 5 other people. No idea how that happened :$ I have a WordPress app on my phone, and I sleep with my phone, so maybe I did something in my sleep?

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      2. I definitely should have thought to put something at the top saying that it is a continuation. I’m going to do that now! 🙂 I have a link at the end of the “The Visitor” but it’s probably over looked down there.
        I didn’t think about describing the demon’s voice. I just kind of write what I want him to say and leave it at that, which would be terrible if I was writing dialog for a person. I think it’s easier to add a description to a person’s dialog because they move as they talk and they have facial expressions. Things that don’t have bodies take more work. 🙂
        That website sounds like it would be really useful. I think I’ll wait a while before I join. I don’t feel my work is quite up to par for a literary critique site just yet, but I will be joining sometime in the future. Thanks for telling me about it!
        I’ll definitely be e-mailing you, and I hope all goes well with the magazine!

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