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Archive-name: Control/lie.txt

Archive-author: Ariel Witch

Archive-title: The Lie

   It was a cloudless night. The full moon lit the trees surrounding the

highway. My thoughts were not on the road before me, but on the man I had

just left. Did I love Bob enough to marry him? Sorting out my feelings had

never been easy for me, so my concentration was not on driving.

   One moment, the road ahead was clear, the next a man was standing about

a hundred yards before me. He flung his arm up in front of his face as if

to shield his eyes from my headlights. My foot move towards the brake, but

it was too late. I felt the impact as the car hit him and the double

shudder of the wheels running over his body. I didn't stop until I reached

the safety of my apartment.

   I barely made it to the bathroom before I was violently ill. I stripped

off my clothing, praying that a hot shower would wash the accident from my

mind. It didn't, and I spent a fitful, sleepless night.

   The next day I called in sick to work, saying I had the flu. I scanned

the morning papers but there was no mention of the accident. I chain-smoked

and drank pots of hot, black coffee.

   I found the article on page three of the evening paper. It read: "Harold

Evans, 23, was struck by an unidentified hit-and-run driver late last night

on Highway 9. Police are seeking possible witnesses who may be able to

identify the vehicle invo lved."  Was he dead? The article didn't say and I

wasn't about to call the police and ask.

   I returned to work the following day and was trying to catch up on

unprocessed claims when someone approached my desk. I looked up to find a

good-looking young man standing before me.

   "May I help you?" I asked pleasnatly, although I was annoyed at having

my concentration broken.

   "I certainly hope so, Susan," the man said.

   "Who are you?" I aked, wondering how he knew my name.

   "I should think you'd recognize someone you'd struck with your car."

   "You're alive!" I yelped.

   "No. Actually, I'm dead. Quite dead." He paused, and glanced around the

office where some of my co-workers had stopped to stare at my outburst.

"please be aware that no one else can see me, only you, since you caused my

all too early demise."

   "What do you want?"

   "That should be obvious, Susan. I want you to turn yourself in. It seems

that I can't properly rest in the afterlife until someone confesses to my


   "I can't do that!" I hissed.

   "Is there a problem, Susan?" Mr. Armstrong, the office manager, was

bending over my desk. "Are you still not feeling well?"

   "I'm fine," I answered. "I felt dizzy for a moment, but I'm all right


    "Then I suggest you return to your work since you're already a day


    Harold stood there, smiling, apparently pleased by my discomfort.

    "Turn yourself in, Susan. Until you do, you'll never be free of me.

I'll be everywhere. Sometimes you'll see me, sometimes you won't, but i'll

be there, nevertheless."

    My mouth hung open with my reply, but before I could manage a word, he

was gone.

    "Everywhere, Susan...e v e r y w h e r e....." his icy whisper chilled

my soul.

   That evening I stopped at the market to pick up a few things for dinner.

   "Not THAT tomato, Susan, it's not quite ripe." I froze at the sound of

that voice. I truned but there was no one nearby.

   "Sometimes you'll see me, sometimes you won't...."

   Harold shared breakfast with me the next morning, although he, of

course, did not eat. I saw him again at lunchtime in the mall across the

street frerom my office. That evening he appeared in my living room,

remarking on how comfortable my apart ment was.

   Bob had called several times since his proposal and I had been brusque

each time. The phone rang then and I grabbed it, glaring at Harold. It was

Bob and I invited him over.

   "He won't see me," Harold grinned," But YOU will. It should be amusing

to watch you try to ignore me. Or perhaps I won't let you see me and I'll

just watch the two of you make love."

   I called Bob back, saying I felt a headache coming on and wasn't up to


   The next few days were hell. True to his word, Harold was with me

everywhere I went, day and night. I called in sick to work so often that I

was finally fired. I was behind in my rent and my car was repossessed. All

I had left was my sanity and I could feel my grip on it slowly loosening.

   "Harold!" I screamed. "Where are you????"

   "Right here, Susan," the icy voice purred in my ear.

   "You win, Harold. I can't take it anymore. I'm going to turn myself in."

     "Very good, Susan. As soon as you give your statement to the police,

I'll leave you forever."

   At the police station door he said "I'll miss you, Susan. I've really

grown quite fond of you. But now you'll go to your just punishment and I'll

go to my eternal rest. Goodbye, Susan."

   The desk sergeant took my statement and I was held pending a trial.  The

jury found me guilty of manslaughter and I was sentenced to five years in


   From the first day alone in my cell, my sense of freedom has been

complete. I am beginning to relax now and no longer jump at the slightest

sound, or wait to hear his horrid, icy whisper.

   "Hello, Susan.....Susan......I lied."



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