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Life is a movie. It’s not a metaphor, nor is it an opinion. It’s a fact, plain and simple. Life is a movie. There are some parts you want to fast forward and some parts you want to rewind. However, sometimes, just sometimes, you want to pause it and live in the moment. Sometimes you just want to turn off the movie or switch to another channel, but let’s say that you’re six years old and you’re home alone, what happens if you don’t know how to work the remote control? What do you do? Who do you call for help? Most importantly, what do you do if it’s too late? What happens when you accidentally forget about the movie, and when you do remember the credits are already rolling? What happens if the movie theater was empty the whole time the movie was showing? I’ll tell you what happens. Someone retells the story. Someone that experienced what happened, someone who watched the star of the movie intently, someone who was there the whole time. Coincidentally enough, that someone was me. I will not tell you who I am until I finish retelling the story, because it needs to be heard. It may have happened yesterday, or is happening right now somewhere in the world, or it may have happened before your great grandparents were born. It may have happened before life itself existed, but I assure you it happened because as I have observed history repeats itself. Now quiet down, the show’s about to start.
~~ ~~ ~~
In about five minutes, a little girl by the name of Clarisse Monet was going to be waking up to the sound of her radio. Clarisse was a six year old girl who was full of surprises, had a very vivid imagination, and spoke her mind. Upon meeting someone, she wouldn’t ask them questions that normal people would, like “What’s your name?” or “How are you?” She would ask questions like, “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” or “Who was your Kindergarten teacher?” Clarisse wasn’t like regular people, she was extraordinary. Almost like a shooting star in a sky full of ordinary stars. She had a best friend, who was a stuffed monkey that went by the name of Bob. Bob had brown furry skin and a generous face. His eyes were black and he had a huge smile. They were inseparable.
The clock ticked 3:00 A.M. and Clarisse woke up to the sound of her radio. She had asked her mother to program it so the alarm would be the radio, instead of the usual beeping noise it made. Clarisse hoped that her favorite song would be on, a certain Kelly Clarkson song she had spent all month memorizing. The minute the radio turned on Clarisse jumped out of bed, seized her toy microphone, and quickly jumped onto her bed, pretending it was a stage. The night before she had called the DJ and gotten in a request for “Breakaway” by Kelly Clarkson. The DJ agreed, but said he would only be able to air it at 3:01 in the morning because his schedule was tight and that was the only free time he had. Clarisse said it was okay, and thanked him. Soon enough, the clock ticked 3:01 and true to his word, the song Breakaway started playing. Clarisse quickly started singing into the toy microphone she was holding and pretended to be Kelly Clarkson during a concert.
“Grew up in a small frown, and when the hail would fall down I’d just stare out my mommy’s window……” Clarisse sang.
All of a sudden the radio lost its reception and a crackled voice whispered, “Clarisse. Clarrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiissssssseeeeeeeeeee. It’s me. I know you remember me. My voice is hard to forget, I’m coming Clarisse. I promised you I would and I am. So if I were you, I’d be careful.”
However, Clarisse was singing at the top of her lungs and didn’t hear the message. Just as suddenly as the radio lost its reception, the song came back on.
“Brrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkk aaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy! Brrrrrreeeeaakkk awwaaayyyy! Break away!” Clarisse finished.
“Clarisse, unlock this door immediately!” Clarisse’s mother yelled, pounding at the door, “You woke up the whole neighborhood!”
Clarisse quietly set down her microphone and grinned at Bob as she headed toward the door and unlocked it.
“Hi mommy!” Clarisse exclaimed, hugging Mrs. Monet.
“Clarisse! You said that you wanted me to set the alarm for three in the morning so you could do something important! It’s three on a Saturday morning! Does this qualify as important to you?” Mrs. Monet exclaimed.
“Yes mommy, it’s very important. Breakaway was on,” Clarisse stated in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Alright, I’ll deal with you in the morning. Now go back to bed,” Clarisse’s mother sighed.
“Nighty-night, mommy,” Clarisse said sweetly.
Mrs. Monet tucked Clarisse into bed and kissed her good night. She started heading toward the door and just as she was about to leave Clarisse asked her a question.
“Mommy, do you think I sing well?” Clarisse asked.
“Yes, honey, you do. You really, really do,” Mrs. Monet answered with a laugh.
Clarisse woke up to the sound of the radio once again. Only this time, it was twelve and the sound of the radio was coming from Theodore’s room. Theodore Raven was the Monet’s neighbor’s ten-year-old son. Instead of playing a Kelly Clarkson song, like Clarisse hoped, Theodore was listening to who Clarisse called “50 Cents”. Luckily for her, Clarisse made up her own lines to the tune of “50 Cents”.
“Yo, yo, yo! My name is Clarisse! Whoa, whoa, whoa! My daddy-o!” Clarisse sang happily.
Clarisse heard the sound of rain and quickly climbed out of bed and looked out the window. It was raining! Clarisse listened around and heard that her mom was taking a shower and her dad was probably asleep, since she could hear him snoring. So with the coast clear, Clarisse quickly slipped into a pair of boots and put on her raincoat. With Bob in one hand and a bucket in the other, Clarisse glided downstairs and out the door. Clarisse found a good puddle on the sidewalk and plopped herself down in it, along with Bob and the bucket. Clarisse filled the bucket up with water and splashed it all over Bob. After repeating this process a few times, Clarisse got bored and decided to dance in the rain. Clarisse was so caught up in her dancing that she didn’t notice a black limo pass her by very slowly. Just as the limo was slowing down, Clarisse’s mother quickly came out of the house and hurried Clarisse in. She didn’t notice the limo either, she was too busy trying to get a kicking and screaming Clarisse into the house. After quite a struggle on Mrs. Monet’s part, Clarisse was in the living room jumping up and down on the couch still in her wet clothes.
“Honey, Mrs. Raven called and said she saw a child playing in the rain. Guess who was the first person who she called?” Clarisse’s mother questioned.
“You?” Clarisse guessed.
“Honey, when you play in the rain you have to let me or daddy know,” Clarisse’s mother said.
“I know you and daddy will not let me,”
“We want to protect you from bad people, honey. Do you understand?” Clarisse’s mother explained.
“What bad people? Everyone I know is good,” Clarisse stated.
“You have no idea,” her mother whispered, so quietly that Clarisse wouldn’t hear.
The day passed by in a blur of screams, food flinging, sitting around in the toilet playing with Bob for four hours. During the night, when Clarisse was fast asleep, her parents were having a conversation with the shades pulled down and in hushed voices.
“She’s coming back, she promised he would,” Mrs. Monet murmured.
“I know, but what should we do?” Mr. Monet whispered.
“I don’t know! You said you had a plan!” Mrs. Monet hissed.
“We already used that plan last time she was here. I think we should leave for a couple of days,” Mr. Monet mumbled.
“We can’t, we were already on ‘vacation’ for three week in April, remember? People will get suspicious, especially if Clarisse points out that we stayed indoors the whole time we were away,” Mrs. Monet pointed out.
All of a sudden, the phone rang. Mr. Monet edged toward it quickly before it would wake Clarisse up.
“Hello?” he said in a shaky voice.
“This is the Chinese takeout delivery. We have received a call telling us that you are trying to get away without paying your debt. We do not like that. The price has to be paid. You know the deadline is coming soon, I will be there to collect it shortly. Bye-bye,” said a fake Chinese accent.
“Don’t you dare! We will resist--” a frantic Mr. Monet exclaimed.
“Thank you, have a nice day!” the Chinese voice says.
The line went dead.
“She’s being extra careful this time, making sure that whoever drops into our conversation will think it’s just Chinese takeout,” Mr. Monet explained to a green Mrs. Monet.
“Can she really be Rebecca Nurse? It’s impossible,” Mrs. Monet said.
“I have a plan! Let’s take her to Rebecca Nurse’s grave and see what happens!” Mr. Monet exclaimed, “She hasn’t been acting weird lately or doing any out of the ordinary things, so nothing will probably happen.”
“Alright, we’ll go,” Mrs. Monet said while turning off her bedroom light and climbing into bed, “After all, good always triumphs over evil, right?”
The next day, the Monets went on a trip to Gallows Hill, to the grave of Rebecca Nurse.
“Honey, remember how I told you about the Salem witch trials? How innocent people were killed because people thought they were witches? Well, today we are going to visit the grave of Rebecca Nurse because she was one of the people that was killed, so we’re going to pay a tribute to her, okay?” Mr. Monet informed Clarisse as they reached the grave of Rebecca Nurse.
“Okay daddy, “ Clarisse said.
“Honey, can you come here and help me take out the food for the picnic we’re going to have?” Mrs. Monet shouted to Mr. Monet from the car.
“Sure, be right there,” Mr. Monet screamed, “Clarisse, stay right here with Bob, I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Clarisse said as Mr. Monet left.
All of a sudden, Clarisse started feeling a bit faint and sat down next to the grave. She touched the inscription on the rock and all of a sudden, Clarisse blacked out, only she screamed the following words:
“O Christian Martyr Who for Truth could die
When all about thee Owned the hideous lie!
The world, redeemed from superstition's sway,
Is breathing freer for thy sake today.”
Mr. Monet and Mrs. Monet heard and came rushing toward Clarisse, who after screaming the words had completely blacked out.
“Did you just hear that? How could she know those words? They were inscribed on a monument marking the grave of Rebecca Nurse! They were written by John Greenleaf Whittier!” a frantic Mrs. Monet exclaimed.
“Oh! Clarisse, wake up! Come on! You can do it!” Mr. Monet screamed as he shook Clarisse.
Clarisse got up and said in a voice that was not her own, “I told you I’d be back, wouldn’t I? historians all over the world try to discover whatever happened to the Salem witches, but they have given up long ago, but we have never given up. We were just waiting. Waiting until our time would come. Just waiting. You know what? I’m tired of waiting! Notice how yesterday it rained, didn’t you take that as a bad omen? Do you know what today is? It’s July 12. Do you know what happened on July 12, 1692? I was hanged, that’s right. Now, everyone’s going to pay. One person at a time. Now, I’ll let you have a moment of peace with Clarisse before she joins us and becomes a witch,” Rebecca hissed.
“Hi mommy! I don’t remember what happened. I just saw black. You know, you were right. I feel sorry for Rebecca Nurse, I wish she would have lived. I don’t know why everyone was so mean to her. Daddy, why is mommy crying? Daddy, you’re crying too! What’s going on?” Clarisse asked cheerfully, “It’s okay, don’t worry, I only blacked out for a second, but then I broke away. Oh! That reminds me of this song I like, want to know how it goes? I’ll sing some of it for you! I will breaaaaaaaaaaakkkk aaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaayyyy! How did you like that? Why are you two still crying? It’s okay, I promise I’ll be okay. I promise, mommy. I’ll breakway,” Clarisse smiled.
“Oh, honey--” Mrs. Monet started.
However, it was too late.
~~ ~~ ~~
All movies have endings, just like they all have beginnings. Like I told you, someone has to retell the movie and it’s true, because now one of you will go off and tell someone else this story and some of you will go online and search Rebecca Nurse to see if she was really alive, or if this is just a made up story. Some of you will wonder, can this possibly be true? Maybe it is or maybe it isn’t. Who am I to tell you what I witnessed? After all, I could have easily imagined the whole thing or dreamt about it. Or maybe, it really happened. Just maybe, it was only a movie. However, that’s beside the point. Deep down in my heart, I know it happened. You might think this is some work of fiction, but maybe it isn’t. Just maybe. And maybe Clarisse just woke up to sing “Breakaway” or she just went out to play in the rain. Or maybe at this exact moment, she is about to breakaway, but until she does, I’ll wait for her. I know she’ll breakaway at some point. She promised. Clarisse never lies, so I’ll wait. After all, that’s all I could do. I won’t grow old, I won’t eat, and I won’t sleep, I’ll just wait. I know she’ll come back to me. After all, I was her closest friend.
I think you’ve heard of me.
My name is Bob.
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