Haunted Savannah

Chapter Three: Foggy Memories

Savannah’s apartment was a good thirty minute walk from River Street, but once she was settled onto the back of Cory’s black motorcycle it was only an eight minute ride. At first she didn’t want to hold on to him, but as they started to make their way up the steep-ish, curving incline up that led to Bay Street, she felt herself tilting back in a worrying way and quickly slid her arms around his waist. He shifted a bit, but otherwise didn’t react to this sudden attack of clinging.

“Where do you live?” he asked, raising his voice over the rumbling of the motorcycle as it climbed the short incline. 

“Two blocks east of Forsyth Park, on Park Lane,” Savannah responded, raising her voice similarly. “How is your bike here…?”

“I live on Broughton. Just popped by and grabbed it before heading back. You were looking kind of tipsy, so…” Cory said, letting his voice trail off. Maybe Savannah had been a little judgemental of him, but it was disconcerting how he’d ended up at the same University, in the same classes, and working at the same part time job. 

Now that she thought about it, she really didn’t know much about Cory. Shane had never been interested in discussing his brother, and she rarely interacted with him during high school. After Shane passed… well… it was just too painful. 

He did kind of look like the artistic type, and she knew he liked games and comics. In high school, those were the kids he spent his time with anyway, and their university was famous for having both sequential art and game development programs. In the face of these facts, it was awfully self centered of her to think that he came here just to creep her out.

They puttered along down Whitaker, passing through the downtown core, which was quiet aside from the roving, inebriated university students who were - like Savannah - making their way home to sleep off their drinks. Although, it was more likely they were going to try and power their way through some project or another before passing out. People joked about art students making no money after school, but she’d found that it wasn’t because they were lazy - most of the students she knew were happy to work themselves to the bone if it meant they completed their next masterpiece before the deadline. 

To her, it seemed a common belief amongst employers that if you did something because you were passionate about it, you would do it regardless of whether or not you got paid - so they should pay you as little as possible for your work. Spec work and being paid in exposure were the bane of all artists. At least as a tour guide, her performance played a direct role in how much she made in tips - though that was also subjective.

As they passed through the posher parts of the historic district, a fog began to descend on the city. They continued toward Forsyth Park, and Savannah started thinking that she’d made a good decision after all when she hadn’t flat out refused Cory’s offer of a ride. She knew that walking through or past the park at night was dangerous, though she’d done it before. There were actually signs warning people not to do so. 

The city was a lovely place in the day time, but it was not as perfect as the postcards would suggest. Petty crime was a common occurrence, and though she’d never personally been mugged she had a friend who’d been held up three times in the two years since she’d been there. The last time he’d asked the thieves if they would just let him keep his sketchbook. She’d always wondered why thieves would bother with art students, as they were perpetually broke, but she doubted she’d have the guts to ask them if ever she was confronted by one. She certainly wouldn’t have to guts to ask for her sketchbook back.

The fog leant an eerie feel to the park, with its looming monuments and ornate central fountain that she could just faintly hear the spray of over the rumbling of the motorcycle. The light of the antique street lamps shimmered across the swirling fog as they hung a left at the far end of the park. They continued for a block or so, the motorcycle humming between her legs in a rather distracting way, before it slowed to a halt at a stop sign.

“Where should I be turning?” Cory asked, turning his head a bit to look over his shoulder at her. In the eerie light of the street lamps and with a background of misty fog, for just a moment she thought she was looking at Shane - or the ghost of him anyway.

Shane had looked just like that when they pedaled away from the neighborhood bully who’d been pulling her pigtails, when they were only nine and ten years old. That’s when she became the little sister he’d never wanted, as he was so fond of saying.

Shane had looked like that too when he pulled up in front of their high school gym and told her to hop into his red convertible so they could run for Wednesday burgers; they were only .39cents on Wednesdays at the Mom and Pop burger place down the street. She knew that she should stay for her after school study group, but there was something about the jealous look the other milling girls gave her that made it hard to say no.

She’d often wondered why she turned him away when he came on to her. He was handsome, funny, and had a way of bringing her out of her shell that she’d yet to find in anyone else. But, she thought it must have been because she’d grown to believe that she really was like a little sister to him - and he was an older brother to her. It caught her completely by surprise, and after that first awkward kiss and her subsequent shove, it never came up again.

It had also surprised her afterward when they started drifting apart, but she supposed that it shouldn’t have. Change was inevitable. Loss was inevitable. Maybe when it came down to it, they were one and the same.

Savannah gasped a sharp intake of breath, her drunkenness making her head swim a bit as she took Cory in. She felt a pang followed by a growing tightness in her chest as she reminded herself that he really wasn’t Shane, he only looked like him. 

“Right onto Abercorn, then take an immediate left into the dirt lane…” Savannah said, hurriedly pointing in the hopes that her sudden motion would distract Cory from the pained look on her face and the tears that were starting to well up in her eyes. “...my place is the first one on the next block down.”

After they took the corner and started bumping along down the lane, she reached a hand up to rub the tears from her eyes. She was not about to drunk girl cry in front of Cory. When he pulled up in front of her building thirty seconds later, she hopped off the motorcycle and unstrapped the helmet as he watched. It was an awkward minute of struggle, when she couldn’t figure out how to press the little prongs to get the damned thing off, and she had to suppress a whoop when it finally snapped free.

She held the helmet out to Cory, who took it with a small smirk. “I thought I might have to come back for this tomorrow. Although, it might have been good to keep it on, just in case you trip on your way in.”

Savannah bristled at this. How could she have ever thought this weird ass jerk was Shane?

“Thanks for the ride, Creepy McGothPhase.” Savannah spat, then turned on her heel to walk away. Or, she tried to, anyway. Just as she was starting to regret her harsh words, she tilted back a bit, sliding on the loose gravel under her feet. She flailed wildly and just barely managed to catch  herself on the low fence that bordered the small yard outside her place.

She just knew that even if it was all she remembered the next morning, she was going to remember the echoing sound of Cory’s laughter when she woke up. It followed her inside before dying off when she slammed the door behind her.