Alaska's The Cask A Narrative Fiction

Suddenly, there were noises. I slowly opened my eyes, confused and disoriented. I blinked at the clock and realized that is was 3 in the morning. Everything was a blur. All I could see were vague images of movement in the room. I could see someone approaching the place that I had fallen asleep at. The light was very bright, but eventually, I focused on the person's face. It was without a doubt Alaska. I could see the distinct features of her face, her green eyes, auburn hair and tan skin. But once I looked at her face, I could see that something was wrong. Her eyes and face looked frightened. That was not Alaska. Not my Alaska. I could see her lips moving. She was trying to say something, but I couldn’t hear anything. All of a sudden, she started

Help we me get out of here. Just distract the eagle for me. I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE,” she screamed.

She was talking so fast, I couldn’t understand anything she was saying.

“Alaska, what’s wrong? Calm down!” I said.

“Just please distract the Eagle. Please, please, please, Miles, I need your help,” she cried. Tears dripped from her face like a waterfall. What is going on? She can’t leave. She can’t go anywhere, at least not like this. Not in this state. I felt her hands, they were ice cold and she was shaking. Her body was trembling very fast. Something was definitely wrong. She has probably had a lot to drink with Colonel. But where did she need to be? Where did she have to be at 3 in the morning?

“Alaska, you need to stay here. Stay, please,” I cried. “I beg you.” I just couldn’t let her go. What if something happens to her? What then?

The look on her face was devastating. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. She was infuriated and couldn’t stop moving around. What is wrong? Why is she acting so strange? She began to stand up and walked toward the door, but I held her back.

“No, Alaska, you’re staying here,” I

It’s Alaska. It’s got to be Alaska. I take my phone and look at the screen to see the caller ID, and there she is. Her face on my touch screen. I stared for a while, until I realized that she was calling and that I hadn’t answered the call yet. “Alaska, is this you?” I ask worriedly.

“Miles, I need you right now. Can you please come?” she asked, her voice cracked and vulnerable.

“Yeah of course Alaska, where are you?” I asked. “At the cemetery. 4701 Brownsboro Road,” she said with a weak voice.

“I’m coming. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Alaska, you stay put. I’m coming,” I said. I ended the call, woke up the Colonel to tell him that I was going to get Alaska in the cemetery, grabbed my jacket and ran to my car. 3

I park my car in the parking lot and all I can see is pitch black. The cemetery gives me the creeps at night. I look around to see if there are any signs of Alaska. Where could she be? Then, I turn my head and see a light. That must be Alaska. I run to the area with the light and see her lying there. There she was. My Alaska. Lying there, lifeless and motionless. Mixed feelings went through my mind, a feeling of relief that she is still here, but anxiety about her state. There is booze lying everywhere and cigarette packs scattered around her. How much did she drink? How many cigarettes did she