The Dissappearance of Ashley Morgan

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It's funny what you remember as a kid. I don't remember my 5th birthday or my first day of school. But I remember very clearly the day my dog died. It's been 12 years now, and it's still the most vivid memory of my childhood.

My sister Ashley and I were typical twins. Always hatching diabolical plans and getting into trouble together. On this particular day, we had colored our cat, Pongo, blue. Even though my mom tried to punish us separately - me on the stairs, Ashley in the dining room - we were still making faces at each other and giggling. She was just about to scold us when the doorbell rang.

My mother gave us both a you-better-not-move-a-muscle look as she went to answer the door.

Standing on our stoop was a tall, lanky blonde man wearing a red tracksuit. I remember he had shifting, watery eyes. He noticed Ashley and I immediately.

What we noticed was that he was holding our dog, Rocky under one arm like a sack of flour. Ashley called to Rocky softly, but the dog didn't move. The man began to talk lowly with my mother. She cupped a hand over her mouth and I heard him say "Do you mind if I use your hose?"

My mother rushed us upstairs to our room and we watched out the window as the man rinsed off his fender in front of our house. It was our first taste of death and we cried for two days. We were six.

My parents, deciding to use the sad occasion as an opportunity to teach us about death, held a funeral in our backyard for Rocky. Ashley and I cried as we read a poem we had written together the night before.

My mother held us as my father hammered a white, wooden cross into the ground bearing Rocky's name. Even our older brother Eric was there, which was nice because he was almost always next door playing video games and smoking something smelly with the neighbor kids. I think I saw him tear up a little. We had loved Rocky.

That was only two months before it happened.

What I remember much less clearly was the night that Ashley disappeared.

My parents had thrown a going away party for Eric, who was leaving for a semester abroad in Japan. Ashley and I had begged them to make it a pool party and we'd finally worn them down after much pestering. The pool had only gone in three months before and it was our official christening party!

Oddly, I remember only bits and pieces of that night. My father was drunk. My mother was giving tours of our newly remodeled house to everyone, whether they wanted to see it or not. My brother was in the living room with his friends playing video games. And Ashley and I were in the pool playing mermaids, which was our favorite game.

My uncle Cliff gave us rubber bands which we used to bind our ankles together. We then swam around the pool pretending to be mermaid princesses. Just after it got dark my mom called us for dinner. We both jumped out of the pool and ran around the edge before my father yelled at us.

"Rachel! Ashley! No running, or you're going inside for the night!"

My mother handed us our burgers and people cooed and admired our matching bathing suits. We were always matching. Together we sat down on the pool deck to eat. Afterward, we got back in the water to play mermaids, again.

At some point my mother called us in to bed. We pretended to cry and begged her to let us stay up a little later. She didn't fall for it. We stomped up the stairs and went into the bathroom to strip out of our swim suits. I remember we decided to switch beds and dress in each others pajamas so we could play a trick on Mommy in the morning. It was our favorite prank and she deserved it for making us go to bed early when we weren't tired. Nevertheless, we fell asleep quickly.

The next morning, I woke up alone. I don't remember getting dressed or eating breakfast. What I do remember is spending what felt like forever walking around our house looking for Ashley. The new renovations had yielded new hiding spots and it took me awhile to check them all.

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