Author: Chad
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell do not belong to me. No infringement intended. Parts of this fic are based strongly on a familiar Stephen King novel. It won't take a rocket scientist to figure out which one. All props to Steven King
Rating/Category: Let's say Mature to be safe, but it's a comedic mature./ AU with aliens.
Summary: A good King Classic with an alien twist
Authors Note: This fic is dedicated to my pal Evee. She knows why. If it seems familiar to some of you it's because it was actually written two years ago for a contest at another board. Since Halloween is coming up in a couple of days I figured I'd share it with you all, so Happy Halloween.
Homecoming Scream
When they called your name you were so happy. You, Homecoming Queen of West Roswell High. You couldn't believe it. But now, as you are standing center stage, everyone looking at you, their faces covered by masks and hidden from your view, you realize your dream is truly a nightmare.They are nothing but eyes. Little multicolored dots focused on you everywhere you look. And you, in your perfect Elvira costume, the one you spent hours putting the finishing touches on. The one that you had to fight, bite, scratch, scrape and scrounge to find the perfect wig for. Ruined! Covered in layers of…red. You don't even want to imagine what it is.
You feel your anger begin to boil inside of you. Your face is turning red with it. Your eyes bulging, your blood lust churning. They must pay, they must all pay. Then you hear it. The first trace of sound to break the shocked gaped mouthed silence. It's the sound of laughter. Someone is laughing…who is it?
Your eyes travel among the sea of masked faces, wondering who would dare to laugh at your plight. Nothing is clear through the mask of your anger red eyes, and soon the laughter encompasses the entire room, making it impossible to determine from where it originated. Now the entire room is laughing. They are pointing, they are mocking. And you, in your black and red, do nothing but stand there in a state of irritation and ire.
Anger, intense anger fills you to the brim. You feel a sharp prickling beneath your skin. A sensation of power travels through your body. Relax, you try to sooth yourself, calm down. But that sensation will not be denied, and soon enough the world begins to spin.
It starts simple enough. With barely a flick of your wrist the sprinkler system goes off, raining water upon the heads of your classmates and washing from you the stain of red that coats your body. You stand beneath the wash or water, letting it cleanse you, all the while ignoring the sound of horrified screams that surround you.
You'll deal with them later.
You lift your hand, running it smoothly down the front of you costume, drying it in the process. Then you begin to make your way off the stage. Like a curtain, the water from the sprinkler parts as you pass through, leaving not a spec of water on your newly dried outfit. You are aware of more cries as you walk among the chaos that has broken out from the release of the sprinklers, but still you pay it no heed.
You'll deal with them later.
All hell has broken lose. Faculty and chaperones attempt to calm the crowed, but the only person in control of the situation is you.
You hear someone cry, "Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" It seems the principal has stepped into the midst of the fray. But you ignore him. Adult supervision has no authority on you now.
"It's her!" someone points at you. "She's doing it!"
You smile a friendly smile, neither confirming nor denying their accusations.
"Look at her, she's completely dry!" another peon who dared to make mockery of you points out.
"Dude, it's just like that movie with the psycho psychic girl that freaks out and kills the whole school!"
"I wasn't laughing!" another professes. But it does not matter. They will all pay.
You lift your arms stretching them wide and let the power run through your body. No one shall remain! No one!
You are only semi aware as the Macarena starts to play in the background. Why do they always play these old whiney 90s songs at dances? You wonder. But it makes little difference what song is playing. The Macarena is as good a song to die to as any other.
The most sinister of smirks comes over your face. All eyes are focused on you. Their panic fuels your power, your lust for death.
"Hurry, to the exits!" someone shouts over the screams and cries. But you're quicker than they are, you're smarter than they are. You make the doors slam shut and lock tight with just a flick of your outstretched finger.
One by one, they'll all pay. They will all pay.
The sprinklers stop so that the fire can begin. With just a thought, flames ignite over a sea of faces. Shrieks of horror echo through the gym. Those that are quick drop their burning masks to the wet gym floor. Others aren't so lucky.
The first person you see is Tommy, the first boy you let kiss you. You later found him in the Eraser Room with your gym partner. He'll be the first to die. With a ball of your fists, his throat collapses. His struggles widen your smile.
The next to go is Stacy. She took your spot on the cheerleading squad. A flick of your finger makes her do three back-flips into the air and right into the gym wall, breaking her spine.
The remaining sea of idiots picks up on your actions as they run from one side of the gym to the other, keeping as much distance between you and them as possible. But it won't save them…nothing will.
You walk with menacing confidence, picking out your targets in a sea of faces, slowly plotting their fated doom.
Tracy's face implodes.
Michelle's bones crack in half.
Steve's body is engulfed in deadly boils, crotch first.
Mr. Singer's brain oozes from his eye sockets.
Everyone yelps and pleads. Each one tries to cover and hide. But they all die painfully.
You grow tired of their appeals for mercy. Did they grant you mercy? No. They were nothing but a ripple in the mass of masked faces, scorning you, laughing at you, pointing and ridiculing you.
With one move, your arms raise out and the entire gym lights up. Sparks fly overhead, but none touch you. They catch on to everyone's hair, clothes, skin.
Their cries, their pain fills you with amusement.
Until you hear a voice…
No…
"Why?" it's a throbbing whisper in your ears.
All bodies fly out as you rush to his side, finding him crumpled and bleeding on the floor. His hair is singed. His clothes are wetly burned and clinging to his body.
No. You hadn't seen him. You didn't know he was here. They laughed at you. They all deserved it. But not him. Not Alex.
You feel his heavy breathing, his gasps of air into a charred throat. He speaks and you lean in closer to hear him... "I voted for you."
And he slips away…
You scream … "NOOO!!"
~~~
You hear a voice. You feel yourself shifting.
"Wake up."
It sounds familiar.
"Honey, wake up."
Your eyes open to take in her blonde hair, her soft eyes, "Mom?"
She looks at you with wide eyes but a cheerful smile. "You need to get ready. You've only got two hours to get dressed."
You take in your pink bed, your wooden desk, the Stephen King novel you were reading still beside you on the bed. It was only a dream.
Your mom filters through your closet, she speaks with her back to you, "I'll iron out your dress, honey. You go shower and put on your make-up. And then I'll help you with your hair."
You nod and do as she says mechanically, your dream still commanding your attention.
You do your make up. You mom helps you into your dress. She does your hair. She makes you spin while she assesses you. Then she stands back with her hand to her chin.
She'll cry soon, you know it. You can hear it in her voice while she says, "I can't believe my daughter if up for homecoming queen."
"I know, Mom." You hug her before pulling away to find your purse. "It was a shock to me too."
She sees you out the door, your ride waiting in the driveway.
Her last words to you…
"Good luck, Isabel. Knock 'em dead."
The End
(Muhahahahaha!)
(Muhahahahaha!)
