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Chapter 1

     The Story The Authors
"Cool" said Jeremy as he sauntered over to the prone Geraldine and promptly relieved her of her beer. spackle
When he finished her beer it then seemed fitting to relieve the unconscious Geraldine of her garments, and this Jeremy then began to do in earnest. Philip
But someone hidden in the darkness shot Jeremy in the head before he could turn this into another cheap teen sex story. He fell down dead next to Geraldine. When Geraldine came to, Jeremy's body had been dragged away. She rubbed her temples and could feel a headache coming on. Then she remembered the tombstone with her name on it dated two days in the future.
"Do-do-do-do Do-do-do-do." She sang out loud a la Twilight Zone. Suddenly, she became very aware of herself sitting alone in the middle of a grave yard in the middle of the night. Where did Jeremy go anyway? That was when she noticed the blood stains, bits of shattered skull and grey matter all over her clothes and face. She was beginning to wish she had stayed home safe in bed like a good girl. Like her sister Edwina.
And it was then that she noticed the populous sets of yellow-orange, elfin eyes blazing at her over the tops of a hundred or so old headstones. Eyes only; their bodies were hidden by the darkness; but their eyes smoldered like cigar-ends as they observed Geraldine, who felt a chill scamper down the nape of her neck on daddylonglegs legs. "My name may not be tortilla, but I don't think I'm gonna like this next part," she whispered to herself with a shiver. Philip
Geraldine's friends' gang giggled, took off their yellow binoculars, and grabbed Geraldine. "We made this tombstone for you 'cause we're going to kill you tomorrow," said Donna Tatliano. "Isn't it nice?" She flipped it over so Geraldine could see the back of it.
[never being late]

"And we're starting right now," smirked Donna.
There was a flash of light, a series of queer popping noises and she snapped out of it again.
Jeremy was holding a Molson out to her. "What the fuck's your problem, man, ya wanna beer or don't ya?"
Beside him stood Donna Tatliano callously lipping a filched Kool and snapping her gum. "Yeah, what up with you Geraldine," she sneered, " the cemetary too spooky for you?" Geraldine took the beer and walked away without a word. Behind her she could hear Donna whisper into Jeremy's ear and his stupid horse laugh. God, it was hard being Geraldine today.
Someone had lit a candle and stuck it in the outstretched palm of the grieving angel that watched over the mortal remains of the Watsons. A few other teenagers lolled about swilling beers and moaning about the recent weed shortage. Propped up on Lydia Spengler (1902-78 deeply missed) a boombox softly crooned Blue Oyster Cult
All of times have come
Here, but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the Reaper
nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
Come on, baby...
We can be like they are....
Geraldine sighed and slumped down beside Adam Cox under the Watson family angel to drink. "My name is Geraldine, so don't call me wheatabix..." she mouthed softly to herself.
"Wha'sat?" Adam slurred.
"Nothing." said Geraldine and she took a big swig of her tepid Molson. "You know, Adam, someday we'll be nothing but a box of bones under granite markers and a bunch of teenagers will sit on our graves drinking beer and they won't even give a thought to what kind of lives we lived." She took another swig.
"Jesus Chris', you're a downer tonight, Ggggeraldine."
"So don't call me swingline."
Geraldine put down her beer so she could think hard. She was a little spooked by all these hallucinations. At least she thought they were hallucinations. They could have been something else. Geraldine didn't see any reason at all why she would be hallucinating, but she couldn't think of anything besides hallucinating that would make her experience things that weren't really happening.
Suddenly Geraldine remembered: Her middle name wasn't Maria! It was Sabrina! So the person on the gravestone she had seen wasn't her.
"Hey lookit the name on thish grafe!" said Adam, who by now was very drunk. "Itsh yorn ame!"
Geraldine looked where he was pointing. Sure enough, the gravestone said
May 3, 1882 October 31, 1899

[never being late]

Then Geraldine remembered her mom say, "We named you after your great great aunt who was born exactly a hundred years before you were. Tragically she died when she was seventeen." Was the older Geraldine giving Geraldine visions of the past? And if so why? Whatever the answers were Geraldine leaped off the grave stone. She didn't want to experience the 6 hours of torture!

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