The (After) Life Of The Party

• Phoeby Chapman, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2016

The wind was just beginning to pick up as I walked through the front gates of school. The dark clouds above felt like a perfect representation of my head in this moment; everything was foggy and I felt strangely disconnected to what was around me. You know the feeling you get when you check your phone for the time and stare blankly at the screen for a few seconds and completely forget what you were doing? That’s how I felt.

The bell rang and jarred me bak into reality. The sharp noise made me realise how bad my hangover really was, why had I come to school today? The party last night had taken a lot out of me.

I got to class late because everyone in the hallways were walking abnormally slow, talking in hushed tones. No body seemed to notice me as I walked to my seat, I felt invisible. The atmosphere was still and nobody spoke much, which was unusual for my rowdy class. The teacher completely ignored me as she was handing out todays set work wordlessly. I shrugged it off and spent the lesson hunched over my desk trying recollect the events that occurred last night at the party.

After a painfully long and frustrating class the lunch bell finally rang and I made my way out to find my mates. When I arrived at our usually spot everyone was staring blankly at the ground, not saying anything.
“What is it with everyone today, what happened last night? What did I do?” No one replied. Frustrated, I found myself walking angrily back to the front gates. Why should I be here if no one’s going to acknowledge me?

My feet carried me all the way home, as I was still feeling quite groggy. I noticed something strange. There were bouquets of flowers and candles surrounding a portrait stuck to my front door. As I drew closer my throat closed up in panic. What has happened? Is my family ok?

Suddenly I realised the picture was of me. I stood in shock on my front porch. This didn’t make any sense. What is this? Is this some kind of sick joke? All at once the memories of last night hit me like a truck.

The party, the beer, my car, the highway, that heavy six-wheeler looming out of the night. Then darkness.

A odd sense of cold peace came over me.

I was dead.