This is a story of a girl who would much rather live in fantasy than the real world. She is immersed in the fandom of a fictitious world. What happens when reality and fantasy collide?
This was the third body she had buried in a week. The whole process was really starting to get old. Wiping the sweat that was slowly making its descent from her face to the crevice between her boobs, Emmy sighed and pushed the shovel into the unyielding earth again. Her hole was shallow and narrow, and while she wanted to give up and let the murderer be caught at his own game, Sally finished the job, for no other reason than that the cold-blooded killer was nothing but loyal to her. He had comforted her many times in her short life, and she was sure, although it was morbid, that these kills, these conquests were for her.
Finally satisfied with the makeshift grave, Emmy picked up the bag containing the innocent victim and sighed. “You were so young,” she said to the silent lump, well lumps in the bag. Apparently this one deserved a decapitation. “I’m sure your family will miss you.” Without another glance, Sally threw the bag into the grave. It landed with a thump at the bottom, and Emmy winced, before reminding herself that the victim was in fact, dead, and couldn’t feel anything. As she piled the dirt back onto the body she thought about her life this week. This was, in fact, the most exciting thing she had done all week. Cleaning up a dead body. Great.
Behind her, something shuffled up, whining, and nudging her leg. Looking down, she was staring into the eyes of the killer. A 90 pound black lab named Goofy. “Don’t complain that I took your dead play thing, nasty dog.” Emmy pushed Goofy’s nose off of her leg, trying to be irritated, but knowing that she would be snuggling with the dog later on when she had nothing else to do. Besides his predilection for chasing and decapitating small animals such as the little bunny that was now buried in the backyard, Goofy was a pretty awesome dog. Her best friend. Her only friend around here, in real life anyways. So she would continue to bury his dead bodies for him (and for the benefit of the rest of the family) because that’s what best friends do. Help bury the evidence.
Dumping the shovel in the cluttered garage, Emmy filled a bowl of water for goofy and put it on the back steps. “You need to stay out here, I can’t have a killer in my room right now. Sorry.” Leaving him to his water, and hopefully not another innocent victim, Emmy let herself in the backdoor, relieved that she was the currently home alone. Sometimes other people, even her own family were too much for her to handle. She preferred the characters in her books and the people on her forums. These people either didn’t talk back, or if they did, it was anonymous. Her family on the other hand, was constantly talking. And moving. And having opinions. Living is what her father called it when Emmy insisted they were too loud, too active, too demanding. “Chill out Emmy, we’re just living.” Emmy wasn’t like them. She wasn’t outgoing like her older sister Rebecca, or athletic like Greg her older brother. Her parents were both, outspoken and athletic. Emmy was, well Emmy was just Emmy. She had played a few seasons of soccer when she was little. Well played wasn’t really the word, more like sat while the other kids played. Or when she did have a chance to play, she ducked anytime the ball came near her. She wasn’t outgoing, preferring the quiet of books and the internet to crowds, pep rallies or the mall. It wasn’t that she disliked people, she liked them just fine, from a distance where they couldn’t hurt her. Or annoy her.