Fan Fiction ❯ Living at Night ❯ A Name? ( Chapter 1 )

"Why do they call you Ryan?" she asked.

"Because, that's my name," I answered as we walked outside in the snow.

"Name…" she got lost in thought, "Can I be called something?"

"You honestly don't have a name? Your parents didn't give you one?" Dang, why did I ask that? I had ventured into that place again. It was uncomfortable for her. She always seemed to get quiet when I asked her about her parents, or about her past.

She shook her head, and looked into the distance, she seemed nervous and lost in thought again. At least she had kind of answered the question.

I tried to patch up the silence, "You can pick a name for yourself, if you want."

It worked. "Really? I can do that? Anything I want?" she asked excitedly stopping our walk. She looked at me eagerly. It made me happy to see her so excited.

"It's only right. Everyone needs a name." I started walking again and she followed along, thinking.

"I wonder what it'll be. I can't have the same name as you, can I?" she asked.

"Of course not. Everyone has their own, it's like knowing who someone is before you meet them. That's what they're for," I explained.

"I'll have to think of one, and it'll have to be perfect. So it may take awhile, but you'll be the first to know," she said seriously. I smiled, it was nice how even something simple could be so important to her. We kept walking as the moon watched over us.

I haven't said much about myself, have I? I just graduated high school, and this is the first summer since I was four that I wasn't expected to go back to school after only 3 short months. It was nice being out of school. It meant more work though, wood to cut, repairs on the house, cows to tend to.

It's cold up here, always, even in the summer. It Usually snows too. Still, it's nice. Woods surround our house, except for some field up front, and the mountains surround the woods. There's a town quite a ways down from here, but not too far to drive to. We go there a lot, less now, since I don't need to be driven to school there every day. The road is bumpy, not really a road, just a path used by our truck enough to make a path to the town below.

We were walking that same path far enough to see the town, and then walked back as our toes started to get numb. I looked at her as she gazed up at the tall evergreens surrounding us. She's only been with us for a week or two, but it seems longer, like only yesterday we found her.

I had gone outside to check on the cows. She was just standing there, in the snow. The wind was blowing, it was bitterly cold that night, and it would start snowing any moment. Yet she stood there hugging herself, wearing nothing. Her hair blew in the wind, almost as white as the snow and covering her pale face, but I could almost see the smile.

I was afraid to take my eyes off of her, afraid she'd disappear. So I called into the house to my grandmother. Not really turning my head I yelled, "Grandma, there's a girl out here! Bring a coat or something!" She heard the eager and serious tone in my voice and came running out. She was holding one of Grandpa's coats, the big heavy kind with a wooly lining.

"Good heavens! Ryan, put more logs on the fire and go get your Grandfather!" she ordered me while covering the girl with the coat. I ran in and she followed behind with the girl. Putting more logs on the fire, I tried to get another look at the strange, ghostly girl. My grandfather must have heard us and came in through the back door. He had been outside cutting logs for firewood.

He got one look at her and his eyes widened. Before he could ask, if he knew what to ask, I answered for him. "She was outside, in the front of the house, just standing in the cold."

"Wearing nothing, in this kind of weather? In this snow?" He rubbed his head and looked at Grandma for answers, since I obviously couldn't come up with any.

"Maybe she's hurt?" I asked, trying to help.

"Are you hurt? Where are you from?" Grandma asked while still holding the girl. They were both sitting on the couch. I remember how she was looking all around. She seemed entranced by our small living room, the bookshelves, the fireplace, and the paintings of country landscapes on the walls. Finally, she turned toward everyone and shook her head.

"But where are you from, dear? How did you get here?" Grandma asked yet more questions.

The girl pointed upwards. "Up there, far away," she answered, ignoring the other questions. Or maybe she didn't hear them, she seemed to be staring at all of us intently.

Grandma looked at us, "She must mean from the mountains. How could she have gotten down here though, and with nothing to wear?" She was asking us, but it seemed more to herself. Lost in thought, she stroked the girl's shoulders.

"She can stay here tonight. I mean, it doesn't matter right now where she came from. It'd be impossible to make it there tonight, there's a storm coming soon," my grandfather reasoned. I shook my head, hearing, but not paying much attention. My eyes were locked on the girl. My grandparents left the room, Grandma saying something about finding clothes for the girl to wear.

I was still staring at the girl as I sat down on the armchair across from her. She looked around more, and then her eyes locked onto mine. She concentrated on me, looking at my clothes and at the chair I sat in. I studied her too, taking in her strange appearance. Beautiful blonde hair, pale blue eyes, skin as white as the snow, but with a more golden glow, and a warm smile.

Later that night she had slept in the spare bedroom. It wasn't the nicest room, used for storage mostly, but she seemed to like it. She snuggled up in the covers and fell asleep fast. It was hard to see her, the quilts and her dress looked a lot alike, my grandmother handmade most of her clothes.

The next morning she was gone, and that night...she came back. It was like this everyday. She ate dinner with us too. She'd come to our door knocking every night, as soon as it got dark. We didn't question her much. Occasionally, one of us would ask her something that would cause her to go quiet, like about her parents, or where she lived. She gave the strangest answers, but my grandparents were nice people. They didn't bother her too much and let her stay with us when she was here.

So here we are now, eating dinner. She'll probably sleep in the same room, on the same quilted bed. She'll leave before I even wake up. Seems normal to us all now, but it isn't...is it?