AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my entry into the 2012 Halloween Erotic Story Contest. All characters engaged in sexual activity in my story are 18 years of age and older. Before reading I invite you to listen to the song "Final Breath" by Pelican, it's after this song that I got the title for my story, and the song plays a part in an important scene as you'll read below. You can Google it or find it on YouTube. You may like the song, you may hate it, but I hope you at least get a sense of why I had the thought that it would fit in well with a Halloween-themed story. I hope you enjoy the story, and please vote and/or leave comments, I would appreciate it very much.
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Some of my football teammates often wondered how I could ever be friends with her. At least one of them even went to great lengths to convince me to change my mind and refuse her invitation to the Halloween party she was hosting with her friends.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
The "her" in this case is Erin Callaghan, a right proper Irish name if there ever was one. Even at 18 years old, as she was going into Halloween, she was a little thing, just about five feet tall and, if I were to guess, lucky to break ninety-five pounds soaking wet. I was also 18 at the time, but I was well over six feet tall, so when she was standing next to me, we looked like a mismatched set. Maybe she wasn't your prototypical cheerleader with the stunning body to match, but she was definitely attractive.
Or, at least, I thought so.
My opinion was not shared by many at our high school, largely because she immersed herself so heavily into its goth scene.
Her hair had been dyed jet black for at least a couple of years or so, maybe longer. She wore plenty of black makeup and nail polish, though not quite as much as some of her peers, and she sometimes applied white foundation on her cheeks to make her pale skin look even... well, more pale. Her jewelry choices were interesting, to say the least; many pieces were shaped like a funky-looking cross (she later taught me this design was known as an ankh, a symbol of life in ancient Egyptian times), and when she really dressed to fit the goth part her centrepiece was a thick black, metal-studded collar she wore around her neck. And then there was the black clothing... seriously, I don't think she currently owned any clothing that wasn't at least almost totally black.
So Erin looked different than most of her peers, and definitely different from the "cool" kids. And that meant she would never be thought of as pretty by the high school population at large. No, the harsh truth of it was that most kids, if they thought of her at all, considered her a freak.
But I considered her to be beautiful.
And I had insight that few others had. Erin's family grew up next door to mine. I remembered what she originally looked like. Her hair was naturally blonde, and she wore it long for as long as I could remember; by the time she was eight or nine it had flowed all the way down to the small of her back. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with life. She had a smile that could charm the most heartless of men. With the little-boy innocence I had then, I thought she was very pretty.
Girls in general didn't interest me then. But Erin did. She was my playmate when we were very young and we grew to be great friends. I took some grief from my grade school mates about having a girl as such a close friend, but it didn't bother me a bit. We did everything together as kids. Our parents would host joint parties every summer because our July birthdays were only two days apart. She even had her parents sign her up for co-ed softball and soccer teams just so we could play together, even though she didn't care too much about sports. In return I played house and tea party with her more times than I can count. Even though I often complained out loud about how girly such games were, the secret truth was I enjoyed them because it meant more time together with Erin.
It broke my heart when, during the summer before we were to start sixth grade, Erin and her family moved to another city, one that was at least an eight hour drive away by car, on account of her father getting a promotion at work. The last night together before her move, Erin and I did little except hold on to each other and cry on each other's shoulder. My parents were concerned and tried to tell me that we could still write to each other, but otherwise I would make other friends and life would be just fine. My ten-going-on-eleven year old mind didn't have that kind of perspective, so at the time it felt like my world was collapsing around me.
But my mother and father, as good parents so often are, were eventually proven right. The rest of my grade school experience was nothing special, but that all changed with my transition to high school. I met a lot of new people in my freshman and sophomore years due to the varsity sports teams I joined, and soon enough I developed some great friendships. My burgeoning athletic abilities, aided in part by a significant growth spurt, and, if I may be so bold as to say it, casual good looks made me very popular in my new surroundings. I had my fair share of attention from girls and went out on quite a few dates, but nothing seemed to click, and as I was about to start my junior year I found myself without a steady girlfriend. I would have liked one, for sure, but at that point I felt I had no reason to panic.
Some people who didn't know me may have thought I was just a popular, dumb jock, but nothing could have been further from the truth. I was smart and worked hard in school to maintain a good average, just as my parents wished and demanded of me. That combined with my easy-going attitude allowed me to get along well with schoolmates of all kinds, the "nerds" and "outcasts" as well as the popular crowd.
As for Erin, we did write back and forth religiously for a while. Then one day the replies just stopped. She had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth, as far as I could tell. No more letters (we joked while writing them about how "old-school" we were being), no more e-mails, no more communication of any kind. Eventually I realized it had been several months since she last wrote to me. After thinking about it for a while, I supposed she had simply moved on with her life, so I figured I should do the same.
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So imagine my surprise when Erin showed up next to my locker at the end of a school day, just barely a week into that new junior year. Of course, I didn't recognize her at first. If I knew I was going to see her again I would have expected an older, more developed version of my childhood blonde best friend, not the mousy, nervous little creature dressed in black and with medium-length, black, wiry hair that I saw out of the corner of my eye. I thought nothing of her standing there when I opened the door and stuffed the books I needed to bring home in my backpack.
But when I snapped the lock shut, she was still there. She had an earnest look of concentration on her face that kind of unnerved me at the time, like she was trying to probe the depths of my mind. And despite her off-putting appearance, there was something vaguely familiar about her. Instead of saying excuse me, brushing by her and carrying on with my life, my curiosity got the best of me.
I turned to look at her and asked, "Hi, is there something I can help you with?"
She simply replied, "I remember you."
"Really? Because... I'm pretty sure I've never met you before." I'm still not exactly sure why I lied to her then. I may not have completely recognized her by her looks alone, but that voice... I knew it anywhere. I guess I was just being too damn proud to admit it right away.
Erin sensed I was lying... or maybe she just guessed, I'm not sure. Either way the world-weary pose she struck was unchanged. "Come on, Garrett. I know I must look a lot different now, but it's me, Erin."
"As in, Erin who used to be my best friend until she had to move away with her family? The Erin who had long blonde hair and loved to play with dolls?"
"I can't remember the last time my hair was blonde or when I last played with dolls. But yes, it's me."
"Wow." It wasn't the smoothest response in the world, but at that moment, it was all I could think of to say.
