Finale Interrupted by Dylan James Harper

Finale Interrupted by Dylan James Harper

As soon as they had woken up that morning Vivienne could tell it was going to be a wheelchair kind of a day. They had gone to sleep all but praying for the cane, or at least the walker, but the intense stiffness in her calves and the dull pain emitting from her thighs and lower back told them everything they needed to know. As excruciating as it was likely to be, if they wanted to kill themselves, they’d have to forgo the wheelchair.

They had decided the night before while the ferris wheel was at its apex. The timing had been perfect, the theme park’s fireworks were midway through their grand finale, and everyone was mesmerized by the surprisingly detailed cartoon characters vividly displayed in the night sky. A particularly handsome male character from a much older animated movie was flickering brightly, when Vivienne’s younger sister had pointed out that it looked just like them. They felt their heart melt a little, they had never been compared to anyone male before, and the idea of some glimmer of androgyny, especially in the eyes of their painfully honest sibling, was extremely fulfilling, but the moment was fleeting.

“Don’t say that!” Their mom had corrected quickly in a whisper that sounded closer to a hiss.

She had gone on to chastise her four year old daughter, explaining in careful and graphic anatomical detail that Vivienne was in fact a beautiful young woman and that no matter how short she cut her own hair that she would always be a woman. Then she turned her attention to Vivienne, interrogating them, demanding to know if they had told their sister any of that trans stuff.

Vivienne had not, more to protect her sister than anything else. They knew how their mom would react, and the feeling of excitement at being compared to a male character had turned into an acidic guilt as they watched their sister’s face, periodically illuminated by the last few fireworks, sink from excitement into a solemn determination not to cry. Vivienne had decided there that they would end their life.

They actually thought about just hurling themselves off the top of the ferris wheel, but they couldn’t stand the thought of traumatizing their sister any further. They resolved instead to make their way to the roof the next night so that their sister could enjoy their last full day of vacation, and then hurl themselves into the alligator filled swampy lake their gothic themed hotel overlooked. They hoped to be fully consumed by the water or whatever lived in so that no one would find their body.

If there was any hesitation at all, it was the idea that a single person would think or try to say that they had killed themselves for being disabled. They loathed the idea that this is likely exactly what their mom would tell everyone. She was such a sweet girl but the weight of disability proved too heavy for her. This wasn’t the case at all. The increasing lack of mobility that they had experienced since their junior year of high school was certainly annoying, but their anger and frustration was always directed at those aspects of the world that were the least accommodating.

Their high school’s singular elevator that required a staff key to use, was loud and slow, and overheated from May through August so that not only were they late to every class, but their school year’s were bookended by spending a month overheating on the excruciatingly long ride up to the second or third floor. The junior college’s wheelchair ramp that had such a steep incline that, if their energy wasn’t at or near its peak, they had to wait at the bottom of it like a lost baby duck for someone to generously offer to push them up. Often times this scrupulous do-gooder was some dude looking to hit on them, telling them how beautiful they were despite their wheelchair.

These indignities weren’t pleasant, but the rich online community they had found of disability activists had helped immensely in directing any negative feelings as a result of these experiences away from themselves and towards those entities that wouldn’t provide basic accommodations. These people are the ones who encouraged them to push their junior college into changing the ramp, which they didn’t do but they did agree to provide them with someone to assist them when necessary and promised to plan to renovate the ramp when possible.

As Vivienne finally pulled themselves up to the roof door later that evening, they saw it was propped open by a cinder block. This was convenient because their one concern was if there was an alarm attached and if they could make it to the edge of the building before anyone else made it up. They shouldered the door all the way open and used their walker to prop it further so they could slip through. There were a few fresh cigarette butts by the door, and they guessed some employee had come up here to smoke before returning to their shift. Vivienne sympathized a bit given that their litigious mother would likely be thrilled at having someone to blame other than herself.

They made it across the gravely roof and found themselves at the edge. It was about four feet tall, and they weren’t sure if they could pull themselves over it, but set their walker aside and decided to try. The hotel was one of many surrounding the amusement park, and its theme was exceptionally done in the architecture. There were beautiful gothic touches on the top of the wall, and even a thoroughly detailed gargoyle looking over the lake as if it was watching to make sure the miscellaneous boats and ferries would arrive at their destinations safely.

After a few strenuous moments, they pulled themselves up on the wall, their feet dangling over the side. They had thought about taking off their shoes and socks, as if they were jumping into the water to take a nice evening swim, but decided they wanted to leave no evidence. Riding this same train of thought, they heaved their walker over the side and chucked it over first, watching it fly down and make a nice splash in the water below.

“It’s a long way down,” came a voice from behind Vivienne.

They gasped and almost lost their balance, quickly grabbing onto the gargoyle to steady themselves before looking around. They didn’t see anyone. Confused they looked down again. They didn’t want to jump in front of someone.

“Hello?” Vivienne said.

“Hey, you wanna give me some space here?” The voice asked.

With a dawning horror, Vivienne turned to look at the Gargoyle they were clinging on to. They shrieked and let go, this time they did lose their balance, and started to slip off the edge. Just as they did, they felt a strong and firm hand grasp them by their shirt collar and hoist them back on the wall, this time facing inwards.

“Careful now, wouldn’t want to kill yourself accidentally,” the voice said, chuckling at its own joke.

“How are you talking?” Vivienne asked.

“The same way you are I imagine,” the gargoyle replied.

Vivienne starred at the thing in silence. The roof was poorly lit, but there was enough moonlight to make out its monstrous form. Its mouth was open in a grimace and its eyes narrowed in anger, but its voice hadn’t betrayed the slightest hint of discontent with its situation.

“Can you move?” Vivienne asked.

“I mean, obviously,” it said, patting her on the back with the hand that just caught them.

“How? You aren’t alive?”

“I mean, for all intents and purposes I think I am. Seems like I’m a lot closer to the living world than you are,” it replied, again laughing at its own sardonic remark.

“Do you have a name?” Vivienne asked.

“I’ll tell you, but again, I’m going to assure you that I am in fact alive,” it replied.

“Okay,” Vivienne replied, confused.

“It’s Morte,” he replied.

Vivienne looked at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Doesn’t that mean-“ she started.

“Yes, I know it means death, but that doesn’t mean I am dead,” he replied.

“How old are you?” She asked.

“The building is twenty years old, so I guess twenty?” He pondered, as if he never had bothered to consider it.

“How did you become alive?” Vivienne asked.

“After a Gargoyle is made, if lightning strikes it before the sunrises it becomes alive,” Morte replied.

Vivienne’s legs dangled as they considered this.

“Some worker had left his cellphone right next to me the night they finally finished construction and put me up here, and that attracted the lightning,” Morte continued.

Vivienne laughed.

“I know, it’s pretty lucky for me I guess,” Morte said.

“Lucky for me too,” Vivienne replied, smiling.

They hopped down off the top of ledge and walked around the large gargoyle, taking in its features.

“Are you stuck here?” They asked.

Without hesitation Morte spread his wings, stretched, and left off the building. Vivienne rushed back to the edge to look down, but by the time they did it was already up flying in a little circle around them before landing on the roof.

“Nope,” he said casually.

They starred at him, mouth open.

“I go out all the time. It’s great watching the fireworks from a few hundred feet above them,” he said.

“Show me?” Vivienne asked.

He spread his wings, scooped them up into his arms, and leapt.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Dylan James Harper 2025

Image Courtesy: falco from Pixabay