Haley Thistle
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You're Dead: Chapter Four (complete)
🕑 Added 2021-12-15 20:01:01 +0000 UTC
Freddie took me to the downtown area, which was very close to where my old apartment was. I watched the buildings as we drove past them, remembering how I would walk the same streets. I leaned a little closer to the window just to see the alley where Clover’s night club was.
“I just detailed, don’t touch the glass,” Freddie warned.
I pulled back with disdain and slouched in my seat. “How did you afford a Porsche anyways?” I asked.
Freddie tilted his chin up. “Is that really what you want to ask?”
I pouted, turning my head to the side. “No.”
Freddie’s eyes cut from the windshield and towards me. For some reason, while we were in his car, he seemed much calmer than at Stevie’s place. “Then speak your mind. Stop avoiding the bigger issue.”
I held my head between my hands then combed my fingers along my scalp. The slight pressure of my nails assured me I was grounded, but it did nothing to affirm that I was alive. I still wasn’t even sure how that worked. “The bigger issue is everything. How can I not avoid it?”
His fingers lifted up from the steering wheel and he waved them. “Baby steps.”
“It doesn’t feel that simple just yet,” I grumbled.
Freddie sighed. “You don’t have to climb a mountain. You’re just walking around it. The mountain isn’t to be understood, but revered.”
I frowned, scrunching up my nose. I was never a fan of philosophy or poetry. It always sounded too flowery for me.
Freddie sighed and shook his head. “It’s something Mara told me,” he muttered in defeat. “Look, I’m not a teacher. I do my job and get out, just like anybody.”
Outside the buildings were growing darker and more shrouded. A dark gray haze was falling over everything, aging everything with a strange patina. “Yeah, but the job is death.”
“No.” His voice sounded so stern it made me jump. “Our job isn’t death, Daisy. Our job is protection. Death is just one power in this world. It’s not something that can be controlled. It’s in everything from the moment it comes into this world. What we do as Psychopomps is to assure the soul doesn’t get lost.”
I bit down on the side of my cheek. Freddie was hard to get a read on. I didn’t know if I could relax around him or if I needed to be on guard all the time. “And we do that with scissors?”
“It’s more than scissors!” Freddie pulled the car over, parking on the street. He took his hand off the wheel and faced me. His long scar was smooth for now as his expression was calm. “I’ve brought you here so you can see the effects that ignoring your gifts can cause.”
“Oh, it’s a gift now,” I sniffed.
His scar went tense as his eyebrows pinched. “Yes. It is.” He got out of the car and I followed. I stood on the street, looking up towards the sky where everything faded away into a dense fog. It wasn’t even cold out, but there was a chill that ran through my body.
“This area is warped, not just because of lost souls, but because of decades of intense emotions placed here. One soul gets lost here, and it can get trapped and tormented forever.” Freddie waved for me to follow and he continued down the street.
I looked back, seeing the road sign where Clover’s night club was. I could easily walk there now if I wanted.
“Daisy!” Freddie snapped.
I jumped and dashed to keep pace. “Coming!” I came up beside him. He was looking straight ahead, but I couldn’t focus on one place for too long. In the shadows I saw movement. Creeping fingers like I saw on the ceiling of Stevie’s apartment. Moths fluttered closely to buildings, and cats darted out as we walked by. Some cats followed alongside Freddie. One was this gray fluffy creature, and I wasn’t sure if it was a cat or a miniature buffalo.
“She was here again,” the cat said.
“Shit-” I whispered under my breath and covered my mouth.
The buffalo cat looked up at me. “Is this the new one?”
Freddie nodded. “She is. Mara is no longer here.”
“Sorry to hear that,” the cat said as it trotted alongside Freddie. It then lept across our path and bounded up a brick wall. It gazed down upon us with stern blue eyes. “Grace came back through these parts the other day.”
“I thought as much,” Freddie sighed. “I saw roots coming up on Karloff Avenue the other day. It made me worried. Where did you see her?”
The cat licked his chops. “I didn’t see her. But I did smell her. I heard the moths whisper about her near the industrial park.”
Freddie’s brow curved up at the ends and his mouth formed a stiff line. “That’s not good. That park is just starting to turn around.”
The cat looked at me and my confusion. “This one doesn’t know about Grace.”
My internal organs all jolted inside me. It was weird enough seeing Iggy moving about like he was real. Seeing a talking cat, while it had been a childhood dream, was a shock. Especially since his eyes were so remarkably human it made my guts churn.
Freddie’s eyes looked down at me, but I was still focused on the cat. “Another lesson then, especially since you said you wouldn’t do your duty.”
“Don’t be cruel, Freddie,” the cat said.
“It’s not cruel. It’s the truth. Grace was once one of us, a psychopomp. She joined us not long after I did. Mara saw promise in her, and while she did her job well, she eventually became jaded. She no longer wished to serve the mortal realm, instead, she wanted to add to it’s pollution.”
“Doesn’t big business do that enough?” I muttered.
Freddie glared. “The pollution I am talking about is what you see around you.” He waved his arm out into the gray fog. “Spiritual pollution, negative energy, bad vibes, whatever you would call it. Grace came to believe it was time for mortality to end and for the other side to take over.”
Freddie’s dark gaze made me feel uneasy. But that could have also been the darkness that was creeping closer to us. “How?”
Freddie’s eyes appeared to go soft as he looked at me. It once again made me unsure of how to read him. “She kills psychopomps and takes their pomegranate seeds to feed her power. She’s become more than a warped soul, Daisy. She’s become an embodiment of them.”
That chill became colder and wetter as it dripped down my back. “We…” My throat felt tight as I tried to speak. “Can we die?”
The cat’s tail flicked. “Not in a normal sense. But without those seeds, we have no place here.”
Did that mean the cat was also a psychopomp? “Then can’t you just get rid of her?”
“She has no thread,” Freddie answered. “The best we can do is ward her off and keep her secluded. But it seems she’s gotten herself into a populated area again.” His eyes went around and his frown turned sad. “And the last one I’d want her to be in.”
The buffalo cat stood on all fours. “I’ve been taking the other cats around the area and trying to keep them at bay. But we may need Rosemary again.”
“No,” Freddie snapped. The cat’s eyes got wider and I even felt a bite in the air from his answer. “I made a promise.”
“Rosemary is our best resource for dealing with Grace.” The cat tried to argue but Freddie picked him up by the scruff of his neck and set him down onto the ground.
“We’ll figure out another way. Rosemary isn’t ready for that again.”
I could ask, but I could also get slapped in the face, so I remained quiet on the Rosemary situation.
The cats around us all tensed. Their backs arched, ears flicked back,and tails twitched in irritation. The moths too began fluttering around us rather than the buildings. Freddie moved, placing me behind him as the cats started yowling and hissing.
“She’s near,” the buffalo’s voice echoed and vibrated. “I can sense the ominous presence of the death that knows no sleep!”
It was weird enough that the cat started talking. Now the cat was talking like some omen in a horror movie. I placed my hand upon Freddie’s arm out of fear. I stood closer to him and darted my eyes around. “What’s going on?”
Freddie’s body went tense under my touch. “Stay beside me,” he whispered.
“Ding, ding, ding dong bell, ding, ding, ding, ding dong bell.” A cool voice breathed from the depths of the darkest shadows. I jumped even closer to Freddie, nearly pressing into his side. Freddie put his arm around me in a protective stance. All the cats were yowling and screaming, even the buffalo one.
“Oh cruel death that stopped the breath of him I loved so well.” The voice continued to sing in creepy nursery rhyme fashion. “Alack and well away 'tis a heavy day that ever us befell.”
“She’s close,” Freddie’s breath came out in cold white puffs. “Stay near me, Daisy. You’re an easy target for her.”
It felt as though something was breathing down my neck. I turned and saw something from the corner of my eye. It stood there, and for a moment I thought I could be a tree. But what would a tree be doing in the middle of the street?
The tree stepped forward, exposing long arms and thick shapely legs. She continued to sing. “Then for his sake some order let us take that we may ring his knell.” She then laughed. “Oh Freddie, it’s been too long. And you brought me a little present.”
Freddie pulled me back, keeping his arm around me. He didn’t say a word. From his posture and the conversation before, I could only assume this was the aforementioned Grace.
“Mara’s gone,” Grace stepped forward more. Gold shimmered along her body like a beautiful filigree. It glowed in the shadows, revealing her very womanly shape. Her hand stretched out, revealing long claw like fingers. “I could sense it. It has been a long time coming.” A smirk grew upon her lips. “She found someone weak to replace her.”
Freddie lifted his arm. “If it comes down to it, you run,” he whispered to me. “Do not hesitate. Just run as far as you can go and then contact Stevie as soon as possible.”
My eyes were focused on Grace. She must have been ten feet tall at most. She was wrapped in gold filigree and the rest of her body was dark. As she emerged from the shadows, her eyes sparkled beneath the heavy growths upon her head. The crown of her head resembled a wood burl. It was a rounded growth of knots and spiky forms. Two huge branches jutted from the side of her head where four crows rested.
My hand tensed around Freedie’s arm and he made a move to look back at me. My throat felt dry and gritty as I watched her. “How does shit like that go around unnoticed?”
“Did you hear me?” Freddie hissed at me. “If anything happens you need to run as far as you can and call Stevie!”
“I heard you!” I barked back. “Please tell me you have another plan or something. I don’t think I can run with this body yet.” My knees felt weak, and I still felt quite hungry.
Freddie shook his head. “I’m afraid there isn’t much else we can do right now. You have no clue what you’re up against.”
Grace chuckled and stretched out her long, elegant but very creep hand. “Give it here. Mara promised she would repay me someday.” her golden lips spread into a cunning smile. “I won’t fight if you don’t.”
“You betrayed us!” Freddie snapped. “What would Mara owe you?”
Grace sighed. “What you don’t know could kill you, Freddie.” She took another step closer and the cats lunged forward. A wave of claws of fluffy fur surrounded her ankles. Grace’s crows screamed with human throats and descended from her branches to attack the sea of cats.
I bolted. I ran away from Freddie. My new legs ran faster than I imagined and I ran and ran and ran. I rounded the block and didn’t stop. I didn’t even call Stevie. I ran home, the home I knew and wanted.
I stood outside my apartment where I saw Clover sitting on the stoop with a box of my belongings. My guts churned and pushed up into my chest, clogging my throat so I could barely breathe. Clover sat there with her head in her hands and one of my shirts in her fingers. I stood there and stared, I didn’t breathe, I couldn't even feel my heart beating.
Clover looked up and directly at me. I flinched, taking a step back. I wanted to run to her, to hold her and tell her it was okay. But I froze.
“You want some shit?” She yelled at me.
I balked even further.
“Here!” Clover took hold of the box. “Take it!” She threw it down the stairs. “Get rid of it for all I care!”
I approached slowly, kneeling down to pick up the contents of the box. Inside were things that had been laying around the apartment. A couple of my jackets, a pair of shoes, what clothes had been on the bathroom floor, a phone charger, my tablet, and various other lay about things. I sat the box upright then looked back at Clover.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice shrank as I tried to speak.
Clover sniffled and whimpered then took a long drag on her vape pen. She let out a cloud of something that smelled like cotton candy. I hated that damn thing, but it had been a compromise to get her to stop smoking. I had been working on weaning her off that too, but I guess that would be out the window.
“No,” she finally spit out.
“Anything I can do?” My voice continued to crack and break.
Clover took another drag. “No.” Another cloud of cotton candy scented relief.
I climbed the stairs and sat down beside her. “Then mind if I sit here?”
Clover looked at me like I was crazy, like she hated me. She looked away then down at my shirt in her hand. “Can’t stop you.”
“You don’t need to be sitting out here crying like this,” I murmured. “It’s not exactly the safest place.”
Clover’s eyes became heated and hateful upon the shirt.
“Why are you out here?” I asked.
“Because I can’t go inside,” Clover snarled. Her hands started to shake and she clutched the shirt tighter. The vape pen dropped from her fingers while she buried her face into my shirt and sobbed horribly and loudly.
I put my arms around her, wanting nothing more than to comfort her like I used to. Clover put her arms around me, holding me tightly and sobbed into my shoulder. I held her like this for a long time, comforting her and stroking her back.
After a while, she pulled away and shivered. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t apologize.” I brushed her hair from her face. “I just wish I had a tissue for you right now.”
Clover’s eyes were bloodshot, puffy, and would probably make her scream if she could see. She pressed my shirt against her face to wipe away the tears and mess. “I’ve bothered you enough.”
“Better me than someone else.” I patted her back. “It’s fine. I’ve got nowhere to be. This isn’t much better than what I was doing.”
Clover sniffled and wiped her nose. “My sister died. Still wanna hang around?”
“I’m so sorry.” I didn’t apologize for her loss. I apologized for leaving her. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to leave her alone. I had always promised to be there for her and help her. No matter what happened in life, we would always be there for one another. I broke my promise and now there was nothing I could do to amend it.
“Yeah, it sucks!” Clover blurted then hiccuped. She smoothed her fingers along her forehead. “I keep seeing her shit lying around the apartment and I can’t-” Her voice cracked and she bowed her head again.
“Can I help you clean or anything? Make you something to eat?” I was desperate to help her and continue filling my role as her big sister. Ever since she was born, I loved her more than anything. Although, during my step-mother’s pregnancy, I thought I would hate her more than anything. It wasn’t until I first held Clover that all changed. She was my sibling, part of me, an extension of me, and I wanted to make her the happiest baby in the world. I still did.
“I want to say no,” Clover muttered. “I want to keep things as they were. I want to burn it all too. I want her there and I want all signs of her to vanish. I fucking hate this feeling.” She covered her head with her arms and bent in half.
“I get it,” I murmured. “Being without her is hard. Unable to be with her is harder. But seeing what remains is the hardest.”
Clover whined and whimpered against her knees. “I just want to go to work and never leave.”
I thought perhaps, playing ignorant like a stranger would, getting her to talk would help her. “Where do you work?”
“Drag club,” she huffed. “I put on shows, host, play bartender, whatever.” She rubbed her eyes and coughed into the shirt.
“I can see why you’d find comfort in it right now. It sounds distracting.” I rubbed her back again. “Do you think you could even do a show tonight?”
Clover shook her head. “I really can’t say. I want to perform. I want to do what I love. But I also just want to hole myself up and cry until it stops hurting.”
“What sort of show do you put on?” I asked. I knew. I knew her show all too well. She did a medley of Abba songs she lip synced too while doing costume and wig changes throughout. Sometimes she had dancers on stage, sometimes she had special props or lighting features. But it was always her on stage, a constant moving performance that started with Take a Chance on Me and ended with Waterloo. I helped her design and layout the performance, I helped figure out the costumes and wigs she used. I even choreographed a small segment during Dancing Queen. This all stemmed from our childhood, back when we would hide out in my room and listen to my step-mother’s music when she wasn’t home.
Clover sat up, taking a deep, deep breath. She then wrapped her arm around her ribs. She had recently gotten her top surgery, and I’m sure it still hurt her. All this crying probably didn’t help her either.
“I hate it here,” she whispered to me. “She was my best friend.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered again. “I really wish there was something I could do.” Tears fell from my eyes and my hand began to tremble.
Clover turned to me and looked horrified. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I know this shirt is snotty but this side is fine.”
I laughed, the first time I had since I died. I smiled through my tears at Clover and she returned it warmly. “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
Clover put her arms around me again, my second hug since I died. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say. What’s your name?”
Fuck, I didn’t have time to think about this! “Joni!” I blurted.
“Hi Joni, I’m Clover.” She sniffled and blew her nose into the shirt. “Would you like to come up for some coffee?”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Clover shook her head. “No. How about we go to my club? I can hang out there and not worry about it.” She stood up and walked down the steps, picking up the box of my scattered things. She then took a deep breath and exhaled. “I always relied on the kindness of strangers.” She spoke with an affected and very forced Southern accent.
I wanted to ask her ‘since when’, but I refrained.
Turning to me again, she smiled and started laughing. “I always wanted to say that with some context.”
“Oh!” I laughed. “Well, better time than never.” I took the box of my things from her arms and followed her down the street. I never realized the shadows behind us were growing thicker and darker. I only wanted to focus upon her. Helping Clover deal with her grief allowed me to ignore my own.
The Buffalo was the club where Clover worked. It hosted a number of drag shows, as well as being an epicenter for Pride Month based events. Clover had recently become the booking manager there, as well as one of the headlining acts. Back when we were teenagers, we would sneak inside all the time.
Clover set down my box of things as we came inside. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I can relax here,” she murmured. “It’s home here.”
I knew that feeling. I had spent many nights here, many days too. I had helped repaint some of the walls after a homophobic asshole tried to set the bathroom on fire. I knew this place as well as home, or at least I did. Walking in here now, it felt entirely new. Maybe it was because I was dead. Maybe it was because of my new senses and eyes. But there was a glow and a lightness to this place I never took in before. The area around it was so dark and heavy, yet inside it felt like relief. Though I saw dark corners, this place radiated high hopes.
“How about a drink?” Clover walked behind the bar, gathering up her hair into a messy ponytail.
I stood at the other side, placing my hand upon the bartop. “It’s kind of early. Maybe you should wait.”
“Everything feels late.” Clover poured a shot for herself and threw it back. “I’m making two. You can drink one or I can drink both.”
I huffed. “Fine.” I sat down at the bar, as I did, I saw someone sitting beside me. It was a figure that was all white and slightly opaque. They looked as though they were draped in a sheet. They wept soft, and their tears floated up above them, collecting into a string of pearls that curled and spun in a corkscrew above them. Each tear added a new pearl, making the spiral heavier upon them. The lightness of this place didn’t seem to be helping them.
“I need a refill. Be right back.” Clover took an empty bottle and went towards the kitchen.
The thing beside me wept a little more, their head and shoulders slouching further as the pearls grew heavier. I wanted to ignore it. While here I wanted to pretend I was still alive, still human. The thing kept weeping though, and it tore at me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“He’s gone,” it said in a soft voice. “He left me here.”
I moved a seat closer to it and saw there was a ring on the counter that they were bent over. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m so lonely,” it wept.
“Is that why you’re here?” I placed my hand back upon the bartop. “So you don’t feel so alone?”
It turned and looked up at me. The sheet-like veil upon them hugged tight to their features. I could just make out the contours of their nose and chin. “I always felt at home here.”
I saw a thread coming from their chest. It floated in the air, looking opalescent in the light. “I understand.”
The soul lifted a hand. “You seem familiar.”
I took their hand and squeezed it. “What’s your name?”
Their hands clung so tightly to mine. “Savannah was my stage name. Clinton is my real name.”
I was elated. “Savannah Beech! I saw your show once. You were wonderful.”
They sighed softly and clasped a hand to their chest where the thread was. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”
I smiled at them. “You dropped down from the ceiling and into a split! It was one of the coolest things I had ever seen.”
“Do you know how many heels I broke doing that?” Savannah scoffed. “He used to get so mad at me I-” They stopped and the tears returned. I could feel their heaviness and sadness like the sheet around them.
I squeezed Savannah’s hand tighter. “You can’t stay here forever, Savannah.”
“Where else could I go?”
I heard Clover returning from the back. I took out my scissors and snipped the thread. The pearls cascades down around Savannah like rain. I could barely see them through all the beads, but when the last one clattered upon the ground, they were gone.
“Much better!” Clover presented the full bottle as I tried to cover up my tears. She finished off the drinks then handed me a glass. “I hope you’re not a lightweight.”
“Me too.” I took the glass, seeing there were pearls gathered at the bottom from Savannah. I hope they are happy now. I hope I did the right thing.
Clover drank half her glass in one go. She left out a heavy breath then burped. “Excuse me. How unladylike.”
“Go easy,” I warned her. “You can’t overdo things just because you hurt.”
Clover scoffed. “You’re a stranger, Joni, so I’m going to laugh at that.”
Oh right, to her I was a stranger. I couldn't scold her like I used to. I couldn’t rip that glass from her hand and tell her to go eat something. I had to keep quiet.
Clover leaned across the bar towards me. “Have you ever loved someone so much, yet hated them at the same time?” There were tears in her eyes that hung on the rim of her lashes. “I loved her so much. But right now I hate her more than anything.”
It felt like she shot me. “Your sister?” The bleeding wound she gave me spread out from my heart to my ribs where my flesh hung in shreds and fell down into the pit of my stomach where they became stones. I was sinking faster and faster the more I bled.
“How could she be so fucking stupid?” Clover rested her cheek upon the bar. “How could she do this?”
“She didn’t know.” Breathing felt like fire. Blood, stones, and fire made up my body. I ached and burned, and sank, a sinking ship, a melting balloon, whatever I was, it sucked.
“She died in the park, you know?” Clover sniffed. “Just sitting there. Boom.”
“Boom?”
“Stupid moron had an anuresym. Who fucking does that?” Clover sat up and slammed her fist down upon the bar.
“That easy-” I whispered more to myself. I died so easily? It felt so strange to know this. I died from an aneurysm. So simple. So quick. Boom.
Clover placed her hands around her face and began crying again. “I hate her.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I would too.” I swallowed back the fire in my throat and reached out to her. I placed my hand around her wrist. “I’m so sorry, Clover.”
She lowered her hands and I saw those weeping eyes. I could only apologize to her. There was nothing else I could do. I was gone. Boom. Dead.
Clover looked up abruptly as the door opened. Outside it was storming, and hard. The man who walked in was already soaking wet. “Sorry. I know you’re closed, but I just needed to get out of the storm.” He removed a hood from over his head. All I saw were his eyes, the rest of his face was covered by a black mask.
“It’s okay.” Clover wiped her eyes. “You’re a regular here so-” Her voice trailed off and she turned away to wipe up her face. “I’ll be right back. I’ll get some pretzels.” She wandered into the kitchen again.
The man sat down at the bar. He wore all black clothing, and his long dark hair was pulled back. His eyes were dark, rich brown and surrounded by the thickest, most luxurious lashes I had ever seen. He looked at me and my insides flinched.
“Are you escaping the rain too?” He asked.
I glanced towards the door then shook my head. “No,” I fidgeted with my hair. I twisted it then tucked it behind my ear. “I was helping Clover out.”
He looked me up and down with a curious glint in his eyes. “This place does have a way of attracting the cutest people.”
I smiled shyly and licked my lips. “No,” I laughed.
He chuckled. “Sorry. You seemed like you needed a smile. I’m Bowie.” His nails were long and glossy black.
I was unsure about it, but I shook his hand. “Joni. I am. I mean. My name is Joni,” I floundered with my words.
Bowie’s eyes smiled. “Very nice to meet you, Joni.” He looked down at the floor. “What’s with all the pearls?”
He could see them?
Bowie saw my shocked expression and his smile faded. “You can see them, right? I’m not crazy. I swear.”
I shook my head then nodded. “No. I mean. Yes.” I swallowed. “I can see them”
“Well,” a soft laugh escaped through the mask. “What else can you see? Because I have been dying to tell people what I can see and have them believe me.”
I smiled. “Aside from the rain, is it always gray outside?”
Bowie leaned in. “Always.”
