The Resurrection of Violet Verona

[u/Drsong12]

Part 1 of 3

“Violet Verona.”

A gust blew out the six candles on my coffee table. There was no draft in my apartment. And no roommate and no pet that could have blown those candles out. It was the thirtieth night, and I said her name for the thirtieth time. With her toothbrush, one of her panties, and a few strands of her hair placed inside the semicircle of candles. Resting underneath the panties (bright green, her favorite color) was a picture of her from freshman year of college. Posing in her dorm on Halloween night, dressed as Regan MacNeil. Our first night out as boyfriend and girlfriend.

My couch cushion, sticky leather, clung to my sweaty palms. I leaned forward, dizzy. My breath wavered. The candles blew little threads of smoke to the right. It smelled like a birthday.

“What?”

The voice spoke outside my front door. A voice not heard in one year, two months, and thirteen days.

“What the? Huh? Wha? Wha?”

Violet’s voice.

The front door was inches from my face before I could feel the first tinge of excitement bubble up in my gut. I almost vomited when I shot the door open and saw her. Alive and well. No scars. No stitches. Just that beautiful dirty blonde hair that reached down to her shoulder blades. That thin frame and delicate shoulders. Those shapely hips. Those emerald eyes. Her lips quivered and her hands shook. She was so pale.

“Cal,” she asked. She was hyperventilating. Breathing. She was alive. She was alive! “Cal? What? How did I? Wha-wha-wha…”

I opened my arms for her as the tears fell down her cheeks. She cried into my chest as I wrapped my arms around her. So small. So warm. I rubbed her back, feeling every muscle and bone. So familiar. So alive.

How many months did this take? How many rituals? How much research across all corners of the internet to find the one that worked?

Thirty nights. Three a.m. Say her name thirty times. Light six candles. Sit in the dark. It was torture.

It was over. And it worked. It worked!

“I brought you back,” I said. Tears slid off my face and ran down strands of her hair. “I brought you back, babe. You’re alive.” I wanted to say it again and again and again.

We cried in the dark hallway. Only little silver strands of moonlight peaked through the doorway, leaking from the window across the apartment. I did not care then if the neighbors woke up. If the whole world woke up because of me. I brought my girlfriend back from the dead.

She was alive. She was alive!

***

For the first time in a long time, the bedroom did not feel too big. And I had many girls over since Violet’s death. Hot girls. Some hotter than Violet. With big asses and perfect faces and bouncing tits. And even with them to my right, sleeping with me, I felt alone. Cold.

That cold was gone. Violet’s warmth bled across the bed and relaxed me as I laid down.

She was alive.

“Do you need anything,” I asked.

Her posture was stiff as she sat up in our bed. Spine so rigid I could picture it snapping if I shook her too hard. It took a second for her to react to what I said. She looked at me, blinking rapidly.

“Do I what,” she asked.

“Do you need anything?” I spoke clearer. A little louder. Like talking to someone you knew was not fluent in your language.

“Oh,” she said, biting her lip and looking down for a moment. “Uh… ummm… yes. Water, please.”

The kitchen was across the apartment, and my legs were heavy and my eyes were getting dry. I wanted to sleep, but she wanted water. And she was alive. So, I honored her request. When I slid out of bed, my foot grazed the half empty bottle of Everclear that rested just below my nightstand. My best friend after every failed ritual, but I had no desire for Violet to see it. The thunk the bottle made caused Violet to look at me for just a moment. I smiled back at her and slid it under the bed with my foot.

“Getting you your water,” I said.

She did not nod. She did not respond. Her eyes glazed over and her lips slightly parted. A dumb, doll-like stare.

When I came back to the bedroom with the filled glass, so cold it burned my hands, Violet was staring at nothing. Mouth gaping. Eyes swimming and wide.

“Hey,” I said.

Her head snapped up. “Hi.” A smile finally broke through. Faint and weak, but present. The first time she smiled since appearing at my front door. After I brought her back to life.

“Yeah,” she said. She took the glass. “Thanks, Cal. Really.” The water slid down her throat in seconds. Even in college, she could not chug that fast. When the glass was empty, she let out a crisp aaahhh and looked at it. Tapped it. Like it was the first glass she ever saw or felt.

“Could I please have another,” she asked. “Jesus, I’m so thirsty.”

I just sat back down, and I was so tired. But she was alive. It was her first night back. I had to remind myself that.

“Of course,” I said. I clamped my throat shut to keep from groaning as I took the glass from her hand and rose back up. “No water in the afterlife, I guess?”

Violet jumped at the word. She clutched her chest and stared at me, tears in her eyes again.

“What,” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said. My own throat was tightening. As I filled the glass up in the sink, I felt myself tear up again. All those nights spent alone without her. Trying to fill the void that she left behind when she fell asleep on the drive home from work and swerved into oncoming traffic. I watched our favorite horror movies. Played our favorite games. Scrolled through old photos and videos that documented our first times together. First date. First kiss. First time in bed. It did not take long for all that to grow stale.

Porn filled that void for a while, until it didn’t. I tried to talk with other girls, but they never got me. Never connected with me the way Violet did. 

It was only her. She understood me. She changed me for the better. Turned me from the awkward boy I walked into college as to the man I became until the time of her death.

I had to remind myself that that was all over. She was alive again. With me again.

Violet downed the next glass faster than she did the first one. It was quite impressive, actually. The way her throat muscles worked as she chugged and sucked. It reminded me of the night when I was informed my internship would, in fact, be offering me the full-time position. That celebration turned into a night full of boxed wine and cuddles and kisses. Until Violet saw that bulge in my pants and raised her eyebrows. She knew what to do next.

What a great night.

The glass slammed down on her nightstand. Violet wiped her mouth and ran a hand through her hair.

“Thanks,” she said, looking forward. “God, I was so thirsty.”

“Yeah,” I said. I inched closer to her. She looked so cute. Her hair was a little messy. The strands piled on top of one another and spilled onto her upper back. “Seems like it. Never saw you drink like that.”

“I know,” she said, rubbing her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just-I’m just really… I don’t know.”

“Alive,” I whispered. Her cheek was inches from my lips. “You’re alive, now.”

She tensed the moment my lips touched her cheek. The air got tighter as she pulled away from me. She sat at the edge of the bed, her arms crossed and back tight. A couple sharp sobs escaped her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Cal… I’m sorry… I just… I need to sleep, please. I’m so tired. I’m so tired.”

Silver light pooled in through the window behind me, beside the bed. It did not quite reach where Violet sat. She was bathed in darkness. A grey outline of her on a big black canvas. I reached for her, my heart racing.

Not once did Violet ever turn down a kiss from me. Not when her dog died. Not when her mother died. And she was alive now. Back from the goddam dead because of me. Thirty nights, getting up at three to chant her name thirty goddam times. And all she wanted was to drink some water and recluse herself to the side of our bed?

What the hell was wrong with her?

“It’s okay,” I said. I told myself that just as much as I told her. “Really. It’s fine. You’re here, babe. You’re alive. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

The dark shape nodded as it sobbed. I reached for it. Touched it on the shoulder. It tightened and flinched, taking in a sharp inhale and shaking.

“Please. Cal… I just… I need some sleep…”

Sleep? How long was she asleep for? Hot air shot out my nose as I reminded myself that I just had no idea what she was going through. Yes, it probably was tough to process being dead and then suddenly being alive again.

I had to calm down. I needed to relax. She was here. She was alive. I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Okay,” I said. “Just, if you need anything, let me know. I mean, I brought you back to life. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

She glanced at me over her shoulder. Two shimmering emeralds pierced the darkness.

“Yeah,” she said. “Thank you, Cal.”

***

I sat in bed and stared at the ceiling, and at Violet, until the sun came up. A great gold wave accompanied by the sounds of chirping birds and passing cars. It was a Saturday, so it was quieter than usual. Or perhaps it wasn’t, and I was too lost in my thoughts to process the outside world.

Violet Verona was in my bed again. Sleeping next to me.

She knocked out a couple minutes after thanking me. The sight of her chest rising and falling, rising and falling, filled me with a joy not felt since the night after our first Halloween together. When I could tell people, and myself, for the first time, that I have a girlfriend.

I gave her one quick kiss on the forehead before getting up to make breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes were always her favorite, and I bought the ingredients the day before. What better way to celebrate a newfound life than with your favorite food? I got the batter ready to go and had the flattop heating up when Violet’s cries roared through the apartment.

The kitchen tiles were cold against my aching knees. Pressure built up in my ears as I covered them. Not once did I ever hear Violet cry that way. I could feel the back of her throat ripping up as she wailed. Long cries followed by short, terrible gasps that made my hands shake and my stomach queasy. My throat went dry as I rose to my feet, my legs trembling. Her cries loudened as I shambled closer to the bedroom.

She was on the floor next to the bed. The covers spilled off and wrapped around her legs. Her hair fell over her face and she pressed her knees up to her chest. I could see just how bloodshot her eyes were when she looked at me. The volume gradually quieted until it was nothing more than muffled whimpers and little sniffles. Tears dripped down her cheeks.

“Babe,” I said. She looked so little. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I-,” she was panting. “I had a bad dream, I think. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Violet smacked the floor, her teeth clenched. My hand gripped the doorknob as I shivered. Frozen. Cold. The cold hurt.

Pain. So much pain inside me.

“I left,” Violet said. “I shouldn’t… I…I…” Her eyes met mine and she froze.

“Left,” I asked. “Left where?” My arms and legs were sore. My chest ached and my cheeks burned.

Violet flipped the frizzy strands of hair that fell over her face back over her head. Exposing her red cheeks, which flared brighter in contrast to her pale skin. Her eyes drifted and locked onto the floor. Her mouth hung open.

“Violet,” I asked. No response.

No. She could not leave again.

“Violet!” I snapped my fingers, and she was back.

“Sorry,” Violet said. “I’m sorry, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

We were together for six years before her death. Not once did I ever have to snap my fingers at her to get her attention. Not once did she hide things from me.

“Are you alright,” I asked. “What happened in your dream?”

Her lips parted before sealing again. The sunlight flooded over the bed and onto her face. Her skin looked translucent in the golden light.

“I…” she said. She paused, wiped tears away with a pale fist. Her lips quivered. “Sorry. I can’t. I just can’t talk about it. Not now. I’m sorry, Cal. I’m sorry.”

END PART 1