The Date of the Dead

Anight Quinton was a strange one. The stories I'd heard of her were quite the tale to listen to, but the puzzle pieces never seemed to connect. Some say her family was brutally murdered when she was just a young girl, others say that she was kicked to the streets after getting in trouble countless times with the law. They say she was raised by a pack of wolves, while other people say she currently lives in an orphanage. Anight Quinton was a mystery to us all, but I guess that's the thing that made her so unique.

There was a rumour that wandered about in this town, spreading like fire in a field of tall grass. Mostly everyone knew; you could literally go up to a random person in the town and they would tell you the same thing:

"They say that one date with Anight Quinton is like an early grave, but nobody knows exactly what happens, because nobody has ever come back to finish the story. Many teenagers, whether it be for lust or dared by friends, have gone to Anight, and that's all it took; a night later and your face is on the famous Missing Board at Town Hall. It's a death wish, but being a teenager is already having one foot in the grave."

That was convincing enough for me. I'd always wanted a mysterious death; simply to fade away from existence without a trace was all I ever dreamt of. It was just the time that I was searching for... I had to choose the right day to end it all on.

Finally, after a week of planning, I was ready. I stayed home from school to have time to clean my room, and seeing how my parents left early in the morning for work, they wouldn't know. I neatly made my bed, resting the suicide note that I had put so much thought into on my pillow. I dressed in my favourite clothing, nothing special, but something that I would know would be the last thing I ever wore. Unless, of course, this whole thing was just some joke. I took my father's 45 just in case I needed another way to die.

I was ready to leave this life behind. I slowly walked down the stairs to the foyer, having no rush to where I was heading. I examined the details of my house, remembering that this was the place where my life had all started. Growing up here after so many years, it kind of got me down. I hoped that my parents wouldn't miss me that much. I took the car keys from the bowl on the table and walked out the door without a second glance behind me.

I took a seat in the driver's seat, turning the key to which brought the engine to life. I adjusted the GPS, entering the location of Holloway High School in the search bar. It was an approximate 13 minute drive from here; the town itself was rather large, but didn't have a high enough population to be considered a city. I looked over my shoulder and drove out of the driveway, driving away as my house disappeared into the distance.

I used to wonder why people wanted to die. Life was a beautiful gift, and we should be thankful to have such a thing. Some people get a gift that they will cherish as long as they live, but others start to forget about it, staring at it like they were holding empty hands out in front of them. What do you do with it? Some people store it somewhere, others lose it, but sometimes, they throw it away. It was a way of thinking that I found was a pretty simple way to put it. I had grown tired of this life, and had no need for it anymore. I found nothing worth living for, and I was somewhat okay with that.

I pulled up in front of the high school, parking the vehicle a short distance from the main entrance. I got out, the cool breeze blowing my hair into my face. I did my best to fix it, although my motivation in doing so was very little. But I decided to at least look presentable when arriving on such short notice.

I walked through the glass doors, the indoors being warmer than the outdoors. I fixed my knitted black sweater before turning to the secretary's office, which had a sign above it clearly indicated where it was located.

I walked up to the counter, approaching a woman, her blonde hair tied into a neat bun, her glasses delicately fixed just at the top of the bridge of her nose. She looked up at me, and though she did not smile, her eyes showed warmth and compassion. I seemed to relax a bit more.