The Scream's Demise

The air is crisp, cold only enough for the pale, bald man to comfortably wear a long, black tee shirt, but not cold enough to constitute a coat. The man wears a flimsy blue nametag on that long black tee, labeled, Hello, call me Scream. Scream, as his nametag implies, shovels a spoon covered in bland oatmeal into his round, pale mouth, and gags quietly.

Scream shakes his long, sad, bald head, and places his bowl onto the floor for his gaunt chocolate labrador retriever dog, whose collar exclaims, SPOT. Spot, the spotless dog, licks the bowl of flavorless glop, and savors each lick. 

Scream waves slowly, almost picturesque, to Spot. Man waves at starving dog, the title would be.

The dog tilts his head quizically as his owner reached for the handle of the door of the small cabin he had lived in his entire life.

Scream steps outside, and his eyes snap shut at the bright sun he hasn't before seen.

Terrified at this bright intrusion to his eyes, he slowly peers through his eyelids at the forest surrounding his lifelong home.

Noises float along the air to Scream's pale ears, and the smell of something he did not know invades his nostrils. He flares his nostrils, and sticks his tongue out, trying to taste the new smell in the air.

Siffing the clean forest air, he follows the thick, greasy smell as he walks along the treeline. 

Suddenly, the trees vanish in front of him, and Scream gasps. What appears to be pieces of the tree are lain across the air, somehow stuck together, above a vast quantity of water.

Scream deliberately taps the wood pieces, as if expecting them to fall apart. Once he is assured that they will not collapse, he steps onto the platform.

"Yeah, I'm jus' nos'so sure 'bout the fishin' with them preparin' ta' build that carnival thing along the pier," a man's voice rings out, and Scream lets out a small noise, looking towards the source of the words.

The man was opposite to Scream, dark skin, potbellied, and loud in his plaid shirt over denim overalls, talking to a man similar to himself.

Scream scrambles down the pier, escaping the large man, until he is standing alone on the edge.

Just when the concept of being outside was almost too overwhelming for Scream, he looked up with his saddened grey eyes to meet the eyes of a woman, reflecting Scream exactly.

Scream steps up to the woman, and waves at her, not remembering how to speak after living alone for such a vast period of time, and smiles gently at her.

The woman doesn't acknowledge his presence, and continues walking down the pier, her thin, white hair and pale grey skin giving her an appearance of an old woman, but humming with the voice of a young woman.

Her white dress flows gently behind her as Scream chases after her, waving his arms, making small noises.

The pale woman steps up onto the railing of the pier, and stares off into the distance.

"I really am dying, aren't I?" She whispers musically, and sighs, sitting in a nest of her dress on the railing.

Scream sits on the pier, watching her beauty radiate from her. She is a sign. The very reason he left the cabin.

"M-miss," Scream whispers, finding his words. "What ails you?"

Her posture changes, as she looks to the pale man she didn't notice before, and lets out a small scream.

Scream jumps up, and grabs onto her arm. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I only wish to ask what is wrong on such a beautiful day?"

A beautiful day it was, with the sky a reddish-orange above the deep blue of the water.

The woman swoons, and Scream loses his grip on her arm, as she falls backwards off the railing.

Scream leans over the edge, watching her falling form, cocooned in a blanket of her long, white dress.

She lands with a soft sploosh! into the water, bubbles escaping her lips as the murky water envelops her figure.

Scream, unable to swim, turns, looking for help.

Help! he mouths, shocked into silence, scrambling along the pier.

Nobody seems to see him, or hear his silent pleas for help for the woman.

Looking over the railing one last time, Scream presses his hands to his cheeks, turning from the water.

His mouth opens in a silent o of horror, as he stands there, screaming silently for the loss of his unknown love, the loss of life.

The scream, silent, contiues until the pale, bald man, perishes on the pier.

Nobody notices this man, for he was not alive to begin. He was a ghost, who only appeared to those on the brink of death already.