“Pretty Dead Girl Takes a Break”: A Short Story -The Toast

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She peels back the plastic and gets out of the water, a little clumsy with her limbs not moving right and her blue-black blood slow shot through them. She hasn’t even opened her eyes yet, they’ve been closed that long she has to pry them with thick fingers, prop them open a while, practice her blinks. Her eyes see well, and if there were anyone here, they’d see eyes of a glorious brightness, clear like something raised on fish and chilled glacial water. God, she needs a cigarette. Clothes first.

She climbs out of the TV into an unoccupied room with a battered tartan sofa covered in pillows, a TV table sprawled with sweet wrappers and old bills. She leaves the room for the hall, for the bathroom and a big old towel for her body and one for her blonde hair. She should probably take a shower and rinse it clean of scum from the lake, but you can have enough contact with water, you know? In the little bedroom she finds a drawer full of plaid shirts and another with sweats. She gets into the clothes and, if she can’t really feel warm, being dead, she at least feels something new, more going on than ‘body’, ‘dead’, ‘girl’.

The dead girl makes herself a coffee in the wood-panelled kitchenette and stirs four teaspoons of sugar in, plus cream, and it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted and she licks the lid of the cream pot before putting it back on. There’s a packet of cigarettes on the table under a cable bill, but it’s not a brand she likes and there’s no lighter. Well, whatever. She lights it on the stove and comes back to the sofa with her coffee and her smoke.

What’s on the TV? Two detectives in a car, two men, eloquently snarling at each other. Countryside rolls past, low and humid and green, like a summer dying from oversaturation, or it’s a City-side bleak in February. Her death is always about things other than her death. The girl puffs on her cigarette, slurps her coffee. Not long now. She mashes the butt on the table. There’s the sugarcane field. There’s the alley. She gets out of her clothes. Always naked. She flicks her hair back from her eyes. Takes a drag and holds her breath, which she can hold forever. Back into the TV. Here’s nothing but a wide desolate space, green or stony. She picks her way shoeless across the ground, arms bound at her back. Against her throat a delicate bruise. He’s killed her already, so at least there’s that.  And there’s the spot where she’s been left, right up against that tree. Right behind that wall. There’s the spot where she’ll be found.

Car engine in the distance. Those men, talking already. They don’t ever shut up.  She lies down and faces the sky, letting out one last long mouthful of smoke.

Helen McClory is a writer from Scotland. All her flash and longer fiction is this strange and concerned with the inner lives of girls, dead or otherwise.

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Oh WOW! This is terrifying and beautiful.
Absolutely perfect.
LOVE. THIS. Well said.
I want everyone in the world to read this.
Wow.
This is genius. Such an awesome premise and very well-executed.

(This? "[S]he licks the lid of the cream pot before putting it back on"? This reached me on a primal, bone-shuddering level. NO MORE CREAM FOR ME, THANKS.)
3 replies · active 577 weeks ago
cream comes in pots???
The author is SCOTTISH. They know from hard-boiled crime drama!
It does in some places- Italy too-the cutest little glass pots ever, and the cream is so good you want to lick the spoon
ALSO THIS SHOULD BE A TV SHOW
4 replies · active 577 weeks ago
literaltrousersnake's avatar

literaltrousersnake · 577 weeks ago

This should be a TV show, this is _great_.
... Isn't it? I thought this was about True Detective.
I don't remember the pretty dead girls getting up again in True Detective.
CurrerBelle's avatar

CurrerBelle · 577 weeks ago

"Her death is always about things other than her death."

Does it go without saying that my favorite part of this piece is how, in this fictional show, an otherwise ambiguous-nude-female-as-prop-character suddenly gets a voice and personality and a preference for cream and sugar in her coffee? Perhaps, but this was lovely, and I wanted to stop by to say so.
"Her death is always about things other than her death."

Wow.

I loved this so much. PLEASE publish more like this.
Send this to the men who say there is no war on women.
Arnon Clark's avatar

Arnon Clark · 577 weeks ago

Start charging. Really. Thank you for that.
1 reply · active 577 weeks ago
We paid her enough for several cups of coffee with cream.
This is it EXACTLY. This plus Mallory's "No Woman's Body Found Today" cover a version of sad exhaustion that I've never been able to put into words. Thank you, thank you, Helen!
Holy fuck. This is incredible and now all the hairs on my body are standing up. Beautiful piece.
This is perfection.

Tangential, but since the movie's coming out this weekend - About the only show where I can stomach the beautiful dead girl plot device is Veronica Mars. Because Lily is a person (and she gets to take her own breaks from being dead to be a hallucination sometimes). Also maybe because Veronica is not two male detectives.
1 reply · active 577 weeks ago
moxycrimefighter's avatar

moxycrimefighter · 577 weeks ago

Also, on Pretty Little Liars, where Alison is larger-than-life, even when she's dead.
Yes. What everybody else here said.
Thank you for this!
Beautiful. Perfect. Write more for us please?
Shattering.
OH MY GOD. I want to print out fifty copies of this and roll in them on the floor.

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