Jezebel's Room-Full Story

May 11, 2004. Jezebel Taylor was riding in a friend's car, with about 5 other people. Just got back from a party. They were all loaded up when the car started. Jezebel was in the back, so she couldn't see who was driving. Everyone was talking, giggling, and cracking dumb jokes so Jezebel couldn't even hear the car start, she just flet it lunge forward, swifly and strongly. Then it suddenly stopped, lunged forward again, stopped again, then finally peddled down the road. Jezebel was curious, why did the car do that? She made her way the the front row when she saw her boyfriend driving, Jude, with a beer bottle in one hand, the wheel in his other.
"Jude, h-have you been d-drinking?"
"I'm okay, baby, don't worry, I only had a couple," he said, his eyes foucsed on the road.
"Jude, I don't think it's safe..."
"Jez, I"m fine, see?" Jude looked at her for a spilt second. However, in that spilt second, the black SUV swerved sharply off the road and started rolling down a hill.5
"JUDE!" screamed Jezebel, cluthing onto the seat next to her after she fell the the ground.
"I'm cool, I'm cool!" screamed Jude.
"JUUUDDDEEEE!"1

That was 4 years ago, back when I was only 7. Jezebel never came back. No one did. Everyone in that car drowned at the bottom of a lake. I remember Jezebel, she had red hair, big brown eyes, and a carefree attidute most of the time. After meeting Jude, Jezebel was the happiest she had been in all the 15 years of her life. I despise him now.
It's eeire, loosing a loved one. What's even more eeire is that her room is still there. On the other end of the hall from mine, the white door with a pink sign on it decorated with butterflies that read,2

"Jezebel's Room3

Take shoes off!"4

Of course, I never went into it. Just walking past it made me feel sick in my stomach. But that never stopped Mom. Once a week, the door was cracked open slightly and dim light shone through. Mom went in there to dust everything off, the baton tropies, and pictures of friends, the butterfly lamp, the Torah on her light pink desk. I never understand why she does that, it's not like Jezebel's coming back!5

I woke up this morning in a daze. It was a Saturday, and I really didn't feel like waking up. It was Shabbat, anyways. I layed in bed staring at the celing for about an hour until my Mom called,
"Honey, it's almost time for us to go to the syogouge! Are you dressed?"
I realized that I wasn't dressed yet, so i litterally fell out of my bed and scrambled to my closet for my speacial, fancy outfit. I remebered how, 4 years ago, Jezebel would wake me up on Shabbat days for the lighting of the candles and such.
I ran down the stairs to see my Mother with her purse in hand, and her clothes on. Her hiar was down, but she usally curled it. She looked alot like Jezebel with her hair down, even through Jezebel wasn't her daugther.
You see, my Mom had married a man named Moses awhile ago. After Jezebel's death, I remeber them arguing alot, like Dad saying, "You killed my dauther!" I never got that, because Mom didn't, stupid-tupid Jude did.
After what seemed like forever, we came home and ate out Shabbat lunch after alot of prayer and such. That part usally bored me. It's not that I don't like being Jewish, it's just that it's pretty much the same thing every week. Jezebel would usally scold me whenever I'd say that in front of our family. Of course, I was pretty young back then. It's still just prayer and bread, but it's always just lifless whenever I realize that only 2 voices are saying prayer at the table.
It only makes we wonder why God would kill Jezebel. I mean, she wasn't an evil person. Maybe it was her name. I mean, Jezebel means 'wicked', which was just the opposite of what she was. She would braid my black hair somedays, or take me out to play when I was just a baby. I sometimes have trouble remembering her.
I stared across the table as we ate some bread and fish. There were 2 chairs at the other end that were empty, the wood shing in the glow of the candles. (Mom belives that you shouldn't use the lightbulbs during Shabbat.)Antother example of Mom thinking that Jezebel and Dad are going to come home someday.6

It was Tuesday afternoon when I walked up the stairs and saw Jezebel's door wide open and the lights on. I figured Mom was in there, but as I glanced over, she wasn't. I stepped back and took a longer look in there. Nothing.
I rushed away down the hall for a few seconds when I heard something. It was mumbles coming form inside her room. No one was in there, so what was going on?
I very slowly walked towards the open door. The mumbles grew louder. After I was a couple feet from her door I started to make out words.3
"It's all your falut, *bunny*!"
"Moses, we can't just-"
"I thought she was our daughter, but no! You didn't look after her like I did, because you didn't love her! What if I did the same thing to Rahab?"6
I thought. I heard Moses, and my name, and my mother's voice. Suddenly, it hit me. It was the sound of my parent's agruing from 4 years ago! I ran into my sister's room, tears in my eyes, but as soon as I did, the noise stopped. I looked around. No one was here, so why could I hear noises? More importantly, my father was dead, so why could I hear him? Eveything was frightening, so I turned around to leave when the door shut. By itself. I started to sweat a bit as I turned the doorknob, and it wouldn't open. It was if Jezebel wanted me to stay in her room, since I hadn't been in it for 4 years. So, I gave in.
I turned around and looked around her room. The walls were painted light pink with purple and blue butterflies paintedon them. Jezebel loved butterflies so much. I think she had read this poem by this kid during World War 2 who was Jewish, too. I looked around her room, on the desk, her closet, under the bed. Jezebel's room was so clean, except when I saw a crumbled up peice of paper under the bed. I reached for it and un-crumpled it. It read,7

"The last, the very last,
So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing
against a white stone....
Such, such a yellow
Is carried lightly ’way up high.
It went away I’m sure
because it wished
to kiss the world good-bye.
For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,
Penned up inside this ghetto.
But I have found what I love here.
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnut branches in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.
That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don’t live in here, in the ghetto."8

Oh, wait, that was the poem! Reading it made me cry and think of Jezebel, how sweet she was, and how she only wished good things on others, even through her life was terrible. That is, until she meat Jude. I remembered how happy Jezebel was when she meat him...
Maybe Jude wasn't so bad after all. I mean, Jude was the only person Jez lived for, and he made her want to live another day. Maybe I shouldn't hate Jude so much.
Suddenly, the door rattled, and my mother walked in. I looked at her and said,
"How'd you get the door open?"
"Huh? Oh, it loked itself from the outside. It does that all the time whenever I clean in here. A-Are ou crying, Rahab?"
Mom came over and held me as I quickly stuffed the paper into my pocket. "M-Mom? Are there butterflies in heaven?"
"Well, I'm sure there are, honey. Why do you ask?"
"I'm just wondering..."
My mother walked out, leaving the door open. This time, the door didn't lock itself. I think Jez was happy. I took the unfolded paper and put it next to a picture of her a Jude and smiled. I'm sure that her and Jude are happy together in heaven, watching butterlfies up there. this world wasn't good enough for her, it's like the kid in the poem, she didn't see pretty butterflies here, before she meat Jude.9

-The End-