E.M.O.

Budding trees stood guard on each side of the road. With each gust of wind, small white petals would be taken away from the trees; a playmate for the wind. This green landscape was well on its way to shaking off the cold that had only recently pervaded it, waking the trees and the animals. A doe munched on some grass, enjoying the peace of its surroundings. Abruptly, the doe lifted its spotted head. It had sensed a potential danger, racing towards it at fifty-five miles per hour. Fear rooted the doe, stiffening its muscles, tendons, and joints. A small white car streaked past the deer. The doe’s black eyes reflected the car for a brief moment, and the occupants inside. One was a blonde woman, her hair up in a complicated formation of hair. Her hands covered her mouth, but that did not cover the expression of mindless glee that crept past her hidden crow’s feet and into her eyes. On the other side was a tan man grinning easily, driving. He had short black hair, which gray had recently invaded. Behind the woman was a glum, pale teenager staring out of the window with an expression of slight disgust. Then, the car was gone. The doe shivered, and jumped away. It ran until it was shot by a drunken man wearing a bright orange hat and camouflage. When the deer was consumed that night, its meat had somehow already spoiled.

The teenager’s face was a mask that did not change as the woman in front of him made a grotesque squeal and wriggled her feet in such a way that it made a quick tempo on the car floor.

“Did you see the deer Gerald? It was so cute! It was welcoming us to our new home, wasn’t it, Gerald?” she bubbled at the driver, who gave a slight chuckle in response. She beamed at the budding trees outside the window and pointed at one excitedly. “Look! A dogwood!” The man’s gaze turned towards the pointing finger and nodded.

“Did you know that is the state flower? The dogwood?” Gerald’s deep voice glided through the air into the ears of all who listened. The teenager’s frown grew slightly more severe. The woman, however, seemed to be even more excited by this knowledge, and laughed a frantic happy laugh. After a small bit of time passed, her face sobered a bit. However, the face still retained its happiness as it spoke.

“I’m so glad we are here at last Gerald.” She purred, and she put a hand on Gerald’s arm. Gerald removed a hand from the steering wheel to encapsulate the woman’s. He squeezed the smaller hand with his, and his face widened into a genuine smile. A small amount of time passed, and Gerald returned his second hand to the steering wheel. The woman smiled at Gerald. Then, a shadow of worry passed over her face, and she glanced behind her to the teenager occupying about a quarter of the back seat. He was still staring out the window, a scowl having grown onto his face. Her eyes rested on him for a moment, and then she looked back at her husband. She opened her mouth to talk, but decided against it and shifted her gaze back out the window.

During the whole exchange, and indeed before it, the teenager’s head was entertaining

one thought slinking into his mind after another. The occasional barrage of white petals, the flowers, the doe, and his mother’s happiness all weighed upon his mood as it sank into its usual pit of disgust for everything. He strongly disliked the brightness of the flowers and their petals, and the effect the doe had on his mother. He hated spring, and if you were to ask him why he would tell you that it supported the illusion that things once dead could come back to life, but death is the final end. Not only that, but it was end he looked forward to, enjoyed thinking about, and observing. He disliked his mother’s vibrant enthusiasm. For the moment, he enjoyed his father’s calming effect on his mother, but his disliked his kind of optimism much more. It was much more stubborn than his mother’s. These thoughts and more of the same nature were reflected upon by this teenager, the thoughts as dark as the entirety of his garb.

After his mother had fixed her gaze outside the car, the teenager looked at his father. He wore the monkey suit he had once worn every day to work. Only the fact that it was mostly black, and that the only other color on it was white, kept it from the whole disapproval of the teen. The easy and confident grin that always occupied Gerald’s face irked the teen every time he looked at it. After all, who was he to be that confident that easily all the time? The teen glanced toward the mother before looking out the window again.

The woman flinched a little bit when the teen had looked at her, almost as if she felt his gaze. When he looked out the window, she made the tragic decision to make an effort towards her son.

“What do you think, Anderson?” her voice broke the silence that had occupied the car. Her words merited a think-about-what-you’re-doing look from Gerald and a sharp gaze from the back seat.

“First of all, I do not go by Anderson, Rachel,” rang the cold voice from the teenager. “I go by Emily, and so far I do not like the petals polluting the air. It is too bright and too warm here. I do not like it.” A deep sigh bellowed from Gerald and an irate mother turned to face the front of the car once more.

“I am your mother, and you will respect me as such. I’d also like to point out you haven’t even felt the air outside this car since Virginia, so you have no way of knowing how warm it is.” The voice that came from Rachel had hardened a bit. Gerald reached for the play button in the dashboard of the car, and mid-tempo jazz subtly exuded from the speakers. Something for him to concentrate on while the other two delved into the inexorable argument that was brewing.

“Well you really respected me as your child when you left me to your mentally sick sister. Also, I already know that this stupid little town will be too warm for me because it is closer to the equator than Virginia, and Virginia was too warm for me.” Emily’s voice had a scathing metallic quality to it, pausing on words meant to cut.

“You can never be happy, can you?” She asked in a manner she perceived as rhetorical, due to the lowered volume of her voice. However, Emily had heard and replied in a sullen manner.

“There’s no point to being happy.”

The rest of the ride went without further conversation. Jazz ebbed and flowed in the space of silence, which Gerald concentrated on, Rachel used as a soundtrack to getting her mood better, and Emily shut out of his mind. More than once, Gerald’s hand strayed to Rachel’s arm, which attracted her attention. They shared a smile, and then broke eye contact and continued to enjoy their journey as much as they could. Emily’s thoughts never returned from the darkness from which they lived, and he thought about how much he disliked his parents, the resurrected trees, the flowers they bore, the car he was in, and the music he occasionally heard over his thoughts when he drifted temporarily from his reflections.

Two left turns and three right turns later, the house came into sight on the end of a bumpy dirt road. The jazz CD had recently played its last song, and now the car was filled with a relaxed silence. Gerald and Rachel saw the house first, and their faces seemed to freeze. Emily came back from his thoughts and saw the house, and looked rather confused.

There was a sharp demarcation where the yard began and ended, for there was not a single thing alive in the yard. Vibrant greens ended abruptly, only to be replaced by a yard of dead grass. There was an old wooden fence between the two dirt driveways that led to the yard, which had dead rose bushes behind it. There were two leafless, lifeless trees in the front yard, their bent forms spreading against a blue sky. However, as they drove onto the property, even the sky seemed to gray. The trees surrounding the yard seemed to grow away from it in horror, or perhaps for self-preservation. The first driveway ended with a row of dead bushes that covered a small stairway to a side door of the house. This is where the car stopped and parked. Though the car had turned off, nobody moved for a few moments. They all took in their surroundings in a stunned silence. The house in the center of the property was a Victorian style two story house, which looked just like the pictures Gerald and Rachel had seen on the website. It had white walls with a dark gray shingle roof. If you were looking at the house from the road, the front left corner had what looked like a circular tower coming off of it. At the top of the tower-like corner was a rusted weathervane, which squeaked ominously when the wind turned it. Behind the house a very tall tree grew up, dead just like all the others. Though the house was surrounded by a dead yard, the house itself was in very good condition (besides the weathervane). The entire house had been re-painted to be sold. All of the windows were clean, and even the patio out back had been re-done. The house is not what the family was looking at though. They were staring at the dead expanse of yard in front of the house. It was just a plain of dead grass seldom broken by one of the two dead trees and ending at the dead rose bushes or the opposite driveway. The trees and bushes were all twisted in a grotesque way, as if someone had gone great lengths just to torture the plants into the shape they were in.

“Well, are we just going to sit here?” Emily’s voice broke the silence. Gerald was the first to regain his composure.

“We should explore our property, of course. Come on, honey,” came Gerald’s voice as he opened his door and climbed out of the small car. Rachel smiled, regaining her composure as well. She stepped out of the car, followed shortly by Emily. Gerald led Rachel to the stairs leading to the house’s side door. Emily, however, stayed behind.

“I’d rather look at the rest of the yard.” Emily called to his parents. They looked back, looking a little bit surprised.

“Of course, Emily,” said Rachel, turning her look of surprise into a smile. Emily walked around the corner of the house as Gerald reached the door. With his hands jammed into his jacket pockets, Emily trudged onto the wooden back patio. He then looked about the backyard, and felt very differently about the house where he was going to live than he had originally. The grass in the backyard was just as dead as the grass in the front yard. The center of the backyard was dominated by the huge tree visible from the front of the house. It was twisted even more than the plants in the front yard; Emily fancied he could feel pain radiate from it. The yard sloped down into a dead wood. Right before this dead forest was a shed that looked just as new as the house. The only thing that Emily cared about, though, was the tree. He was fascinated by it, and approached it as though in a trance. As he stepped off of the patio, his right hand came out of his pocket.

“Emily!” called his mother. Emily, annoyed, look back towards the house. Rachel’s head was poking out of a sliding glass door that had led onto the patio. “Come pick out your room!” Emily frowned at his mom, which was returned by her smile until Emily sighed and walked back onto the patio and into the house.

The inside of the house was in just as good condition as the outside. The floors were a dark, polished hardwood. The walls looked like they had freshly been painted white. Bereft of furniture, it felt empty. Emily followed his beckoning mother up some white-carpeted stairs.

“Your father and I claimed the master bedroom downstairs, but there’s three rooms up here, and you can pick any one you want. The moving truck should be here at any time, so pick quick!” With those spritely words, Rachel bounced down the stairs. Emily was left looking at the second floor living area, with a hallway branching off the right side. He wondered down the hallway, pausing to look inside each door. The first two rooms were carbon copies of each other; white carpet, single window, closet. Emily passed the bathroom and paused at the doorway of the final room. Shivers ran down his spine, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Emily cracked the door and peered inside. The room looked just the same as the other ones, except the window was lower and to the left of the position the windows had taken in the other rooms. Also, there was private bathroom for this room. Emily entered slowly and paced about the room. He breathed deeply. He had a feeling he was grasping at, so he could explore it and perhaps write a poem about it later. However, the feeling was just out of his grasp it seemed. Emily decided he hated all the rooms, but especially this one. Suddenly, his mother was at the top of the stairs and calling down the hallway. Emily felt as if he were waking up, and noticed with annoyance that the shafts of light that came from the window were somehow much longer than a few moments ago.

“The bed goes here!” said Rachel excitedly, pointing to the room Emily occupied. Before Emily could protest, an overweight man in overalls had jammed himself in the doorframe, holding a bed that had the foam mattress tied to the frame. While Emily simultaneously wondered why they hadn’t taken his bed apart and thought about how he hated his mom making decisions for him, the overweight man walked into the room with the bed. Holding the other side of the bed was an overweight man wearing overalls, except he was darker than the other man. With dexterity that surprised Emily and his mother, the men positioned the bed in the corner opposite of the door. They looked at Rachel for confirmation.

“Is that an okay spot, Emily?” Rachel inquired of Emily, who mumbled about something. She nodded at the silent men, who relinquished their grip of the bed. Emily came to the conclusion that the men were twins, though he didn’t care enough to ask. The twins came and went, carrying all of Emily’s furniture into the room. After Emily had sullenly directed them to where he wanted his bookshelf, night stand, T.V., two dressers, three-part mirror, and computer desk, the silent men went about their business elsewhere in the house. Emily sighed and made sure everything in his room was straight and proper. Gerald appeared in the doorway moments later with a few bags, which he promptly dropped inside the door. He waved at Emily and left.

Many minutes later, Emily had his clothes put away, his bed made up, and his room decorated. He watched the daylight fade into darkness outside his window as he worked, but finally he was done. Edgar Allen Poe’s portrait hung across from his bed, where he watched Emily sleep. On the right of the portrait was the closet, and on the right side of that was the bookcase. The top shelf was occupied exclusively by skulls, mostly ceramic and painted. However, in the center of the bookshelf was a sun-bleached deer skull Emily had found one night during one of his night walks. On the shelves below the skulls were books, categorized by content. From the top one down, there were art books, poetry, a few biographies on people like Poe and Sylvia Plath, and finally two full shelves of fantasy. Emily stopped frowning on the inside a bit while he put his favorite books in their places. The door into the room was a few feet from the bookcase. The doorway was perpendicular to the wall opposite of Emily’s bed, and bore the T.V. that was bolted onto the wall. In the wall opposite of the door was the window. Emily had draped black Halloween spider webbing over most of the wall. Some space was also taken up by his computer desk and nightstand. The headboard of the bed was on this wall as well. On the wall opposite of the T.V. Emily had stapled a ridiculous amount of pictures of his favorite bands and the people in them. He cut some out of magazines and some were posters. On this wall were his dressers, one of which supported his large mirror which had three parts. Emily sighed and laid on his black sheets, content for the moment. Rachel’s head appeared in his doorway.

“Hey, we’re going out for dinner tonight! Watcha in the mood for?” The second inquiry made of Emily from his mother tonight. He let out a groan.

“Dying!” Emily hung on the “n” sound as long as could as he rolled onto his side so he wasn’t facing his mother. Rachel crossed her arms.

“Italian it is!” she said after a short pause. “Come downstairs soon, your father won’t stop talking about how famished he is.” She left the room and Emily rolled back onto his back with his hand on his face. Eventually, he slid his hand off his face shambled downstairs. He entered the new living room, which held a large, flat-screen T.V., a coffee table, a couch, and Gerald. Some baseball game was on, which Gerald viewed with his feet on the table. Emily leaned on a wall for a moment before Rachel entered from a hallway which led to their bedroom.

“Okay, let’s go!” Rachel said as she smiled at the men. Gerald promptly grabbed the remote and turned off the T.V. while Emily got off the wall and trudged after his mom. They went to some stupid Italian restaurant where Emily didn’t eat much.

After the consumption and consequent return to the house, Emily sat in silence in his new bedroom. He thought his dark thoughts, but more than that he listened to the sounds of his parents downstairs. Emily was waiting for them to slumber so that he might explore the yard by the pale glow of moonlight. He wanted to explore the dead wood that stretched behind his house, examine the rose bushes out front, and anything else he could find; but mostly he wanted to touch the large, twisted tree in the back yard. Emily daydreamt (or rather, nightdreamt) of this looming tree that looked like it was in so much pain. Was it a kindred spirit? Had he found something else that may understand him, and his poetry? Could it feel his pain, too? Emily began to feel an uncomfortable light, and realized his eyes had glazed over. He peered, annoyed, at the window; it was morning. The house was silent, and felt like it had been silent a long time. As sleep began to pull Emily’s eyelids shut, he lay down to thought of intense frustration at himself and cursed the time that had so quickly snuck past him. Then, he was asleep.

Barely three hours had passed before the voice of a particular woman forced Emily into the world of consciousness. His bleary eyes looked at Rachel, who was currently making sound at him. It took a little bit of time before Emily could start to grasp what she was saying.

“-you know what they say, carpe diem and whatnot. Anyway, your father and I are going to get groceries for that dreadfully empty fridge we have. Do you care to come?” Rachel smiled at Emily, doing her best to be inviting. Emily simply looked at her, having just finished rubbing sleep from his eyes. After a minute of silence, Rachel told Emily to have a good day and left. Emily sighed and looked out his window, which was facing the front lawn. His eyes rested on the dead rose bushes, which lined a wooden fence that resided on the outer rim of the front yard. After thinking about how beautiful the bushes were, he went to his desk. He took out his fountain pen, some notebook paper, and began to write. Emily's writings were of the bushes, who realized the hopelessness of reality and died, therefore being cemented into the yard's beauty forever. After re-reading his poem, he decided to call it “Dead Rose Bushes of Truth”. He heard his parents pull into the driveway, and scowled. He had enjoyed the silence, but it seemed his peace was probably going to be broken.