by Simone Elise
“You know of the Oz?” I asked, slightly surprised “You don’t seem the type to be into metal.”
“I’m the son of Satan,” he exclaimed, as if that answered all the world’s questions.
“And I’m the daughter of Doctor Myer,” I snapped back but then came to a halt.
Dad.
He would be missing me. He would be mourning me! I was dead. He’d lost his daughter. Why hadn’t I thought of this earlier? I. Was. Dead!
My friends, my family, everyone would think I was dead. Well, I was dead but…
“Why have you stopped?” Ethan was a few paces ahead of me, his arms crossed, looking at me with complete and utter annoyance. As if I was a fly that kept buzzing around his head that he couldn’t kill.
I supposed that was what I was like.
“My family will be mourning me right now,” I muttered. “Everyone will be.”
“You weren’t that popular,” he scoffed. “And no, they won’t be.”
“I’m dead; people mourn the dead.” I was slightly taken back by his reference to my lack of popularity.
“They did mourn you when you died, which…” he looked down at a thick-banded watch, “was about two years ago, give or take a few days.”
“You mean two hours ago.” I hadn’t been dead for that long. Did I look stupid?
“You have been. Now stop thinking. You are wasting time, which isn’t yours to waste.” He turned his back to me.
This turning the back thing was becoming a habit of his.
“I’m allowed to think,” I told him.
“No, you’re not.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I can and I am.” He shook his head. “Stop talking.”
“Stop talking, stop thinking!” My voice rose to a higher pitch. “Do as I say, do not mock me. Keep up with me… blah blah blah blah.”
“I curse the day I met you,” he muttered under his breath and took bigger strides.
“Which was today,” I pointed out. “Or, according to your clock, could have been last year.”
“Whatever you say,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Why do people always say that?”
He made a grunting noise, as if he knew the reason. Rolling my eyes, I moved my legs faster, trying hard to keep up with his pace. Was he serious about me being dead for two years? Or was it some sort of joke? I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye; he didn’t look like the type who would lie.
But then again, he didn’t look like Satan’s son. He looked more like the son of a god, with those devilish good looks.
“Stop looking at me,” he snapped.
“Thought you weren’t talking to me?”
He huffed and then pushed the corridor door open with such force that it made a dent in the wall behind it.
“Someone has a temper,” I muttered as we entered a large empty room.
The room was entirely empty other than a large painting of the world that covered the wall in front of me.
“That’s massive,” I said in awe. “I have never seen it painted that big before.”
Ethan didn’t answer. Instead, he strolled toward it. I quickly ran up behind him and accidently encountered his back when he stopped suddenly.
He let out an annoyed grunt and narrowed his eyes at me as he spun around to face me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Next time, give a heads up before you stop.”
“Did you expect me to walk through the wall?” he asked, as if I was stupid.
I crossed my arms and gave him a blank look. Somehow, I wasn’t sure how or why, I’d really gotten under his skin.
“Take my hand.” He held his hand out to me.
“First, do you wash them?” I asked. His hands looked perfectly clean, but I wanted to annoy him and by the look on his face, it was working.
“Take my hand,” he insisted.
“I would prefer not to.”
“Fine, whatever, do it the hard way.” He gripped my upper arm tightly and placed his free hand on the painting.
I went to open my mouth to insult him or tell him to get his dirty mitts off me, but my body was pulled with force into the painting; everything spun and whirled.
Before I could digest what was happening, the swirling colors cleared, my eyes snapped closed, and I fell hard backward.
“Get off me.” Ethan’s deep voice rumbled from below me.
I was suddenly flipped to the side and let out a groan as I landed on a cold surface. I rolled on my back, opening my eyes. Ethan was pulling himself up.
Slowly, I pushed myself up to my elbows. Now, where was I?
“Get up, already,” Ethan teased. “Or I might get the impression you like lying on your back.”
I rolled my eyes at his cocky grin as I pulled myself back on my feet. I glanced around the familiar residential street. I knew this street.
“Hey, we are on Earth!” I said happily, taking in the streetlights and dark houses.
“We never left Earth.” Ethan walked up a garden path to a big brick house. “Come on, you have already wasted too much time.”
“What is with you and the time?” I jogged up behind him.
Ethan stopped on the porch and then walked through the door. Yes, he walked through the front door.
Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed my arm. I closed my eyes as I was pulled forward.
“What did I tell you about wasting time?” Ethan hissed, and I cracked an eye open. We were now inside the house. My mouth dropped. Was I a ghost? I was about to haunt someone!
Ethan let go of my arm and stormed up the stairs. I quickly followed him, my footsteps light.
The house seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I followed Ethan up a dark hallway. I scanned the walls for pictures, some hint of whose house we were invading, but the walls were blank.
Ethan disappeared through a closed door and I followed him, shutting my eyes out of reflex.
I immediately knew I had been in this room before. The bed was messed up, a broken guitar lay in the corner, posters were torn from the walls and the room was littered with empty bottles of alcohol.
Wow, someone had been hitting the booze!
Ethan crossed his arms and stared at the bathroom door, which was ajar. Was someone in here? It surprised me that anyone could live in this mess.
“Are we going to haunt them?” I would love to go and haunt that stupid bitch from school who used to make my life hell, or my ex-boyfriend, who dumped me for being ‘too happy.’
“Why would we haunt anyone?” Ethan frowned at me, obviously disgusted by the suggestion.
My attention returned to the door as a young man stumbled out, looking drunk or high on drugs.
He pushed the black hair from his face and slid down a wall. My eyes opened wide, and I quickly knelt in front of him.
Alex!
My best friend, the strongest, happiest man I had ever met. He was a musician and a beautiful soul. I glanced at the broken guitar. Had he given up?
Tears streamed down his face, and he leaned his head back against the wall and stared across the room, through me. His eyes were full of sadness. He reached out for a bottle of vodka, which lay half-drunk to his side, and brought it to his lips.
“What happened to him?” I reached out to touch his face, but my hand disappeared right through him.
“You,” Ethan said from behind me. “He hasn’t taken your death well.”
“So, you brought me here to see this?” I stood up and felt my anger boil. “You brought me here to see how my death is killing my best friend?”
“No!” Ethan yelled and crossed his arms. “I don’t choose where we go; the map does. We were brought here to stop this.” He gestured to Alex as he drank silently on the floor.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been sentenced to be a guider until your retrial. A guider’s job is to guide the living back to life.” Ethan sat on the bed,
and I was surprised he didn’t just sink through it. “Think of it as community service. You must stop them from taking their own lives or stop accidents that end a life before their time. Drunk driving, drug overdoses.”
“I’m confused. That doesn’t sound like a job someone from Hell would be doing.”
“Your friend here is about to die. When he finishes that bottle of vodka, he is going to have a seizure. The vodka will mix with the drugs he just took. He will lie here for two days before his parents come looking.”
“What?” My stomach turned in panic. “Can you see the future or something?”
“No, but we know.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You aren’t trained yet.” He got up from the bed and walked to Alex’s side. “That’s why I am here.”
“So, show me how to help him.” I wasn’t letting Alex die because of his sadness over me. “We are here to stop it, right?”
“Right.” Ethan glanced at me. “Place your hand on his temple.”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” Ethan snapped; patience wasn’t a strong characteristic of his.
“He can’t see us, can he?” I asked, not putting my hand on his temple. “Because if he could feel me, if he could sense I was here, he wouldn’t be doing this.”
“No, he can’t.” Ethan reached out for my hand and placed it on Alex’s temple. I was surprised I could touch him. “Now.”
“Can he feel me touching him?”
“No.”
“Why isn’t my hand disappearing?”
“Stop asking questions! Do you want to save him?” Ethan arched an eyebrow, and I remained silent. “Good, now you have to feel his mind and bring forward memories.”
“What do you mean ‘bring forward memories’?”
“When you are in their minds, you can feel happy memories. Bring them forward. You, in this case, have the benefit of knowing the person, so you might know certain memories that will trigger him to put that bottle down.”
“Okay.” I let out a low, nervous breath of air. What if I messed up? What if I didn’t get the right memories?
Ethan placed his hand on Alex’s other temple.
“What are you doing?” I frowned.
“This is your first time. Do you think I am going to let you do it by yourself?” He rolled his eyes. “Now close your eyes; you will feel the connection.”
“How do I bring a memory forward?” I glanced at him, relieved that he was here with me. “And will you be seeing them, too, the memories?”
“You just focus on them and the person will be seeing what you are inviting them to remember.” Ethan shifted his weight. “And, yes.”
“His name is Alex, not ‘the person.’” I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply. I could do this. I wouldn’t let Alex die. But I suddenly became more nervous as Alex gulped down another mouthful of the vodka.
Alex’s mind was like a cloud, foggy and hard to focus in. Slowly, pictures and scenes flashed through my mind, like a movie of all the important memories of his life.
I suppressed a smile when I noticed most of his happy moments were with me.
Suddenly, a conversation appeared in his mind and I focused on it, bringing it to the surface.
“Do you want to go to college?” Alex smiled at me.
“No.” I flung a college book at him. “You, on the other hand, don’t get a choice. You have to share your talent with everyone. It would be a crime not to.”
I focused on that memory for a few moments and then searched for another.
“Don’t worry. If I die, I will be sure to haunt you.” I wrapped my arms around Alex and smiled up at him. “Remember that, punk!”
Alex wasn’t drinking. He hadn’t brought the bottle back to his lips. I took this as a good sign and frantically searched for a conversation we’d had not too long ago.
“You know, Alex, you have the most beautiful voice.” I kissed his cheek. “Don’t ever give up.”
“You are biased, Addy.” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not that good.”
“Yes, you are.” I shouldered him lightly as we sat on his bed and his fingers lingered over his guitar strings. “You are going to be famous, Alex. I know it. Your music is going to save people from their darkest hours, and it’s going to be played when people experience their happiest moments.”
Alex rolled his eyes and gave me his trademark smile. “Then I will get all famous and have to leave you behind.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I will still be with you, no matter where you are. Can’t get rid of me that easily.” I smiled at him. “Now play it again!”
My eyes snapped open. Alex dropped the bottle and the little vodka that was left spilled over the carpet.
I pulled my hand away from his temple and watched as his eyes filled with tears of happiness mixed with grief. Then his eyes fluttered closed, and his body slumped against the wall.
“Was I too late?” I reached out for Alex, but my hand went through his. “I took too long, didn’t I?”
“No.” Ethan pulled his own hand away, and I noticed sadness in his eyes before he looked away from me. “He has just passed out.”
“Should I get him help?” I glanced between Alex and Ethan. “I could try and wake his parents or something?”
“And how to you suggest doing that?” he asked. “Rattle chains or something?”
I gave him a blank look. “Would that work?”
Ethan grunted and got up from the floor. “No.”
“So no to the chains and no to waking his parents?”
Ethan gave a quick nod and then glanced at something in the corner of the room. “We should go. The job is done.”
I got up from my knees and glanced at the corner. My expression softened as I took in the picture of Alex and I smiling widely. That picture was taken the night I died.
Yuck, I was still wearing those clothes. “So, it really has been two years.” I glanced back at the older-looking Alex on the floor snoring softly. “I thought you were lying to me.”
“I don’t lie,” Ethan said sharply and then walked through the closed door. I took one last glance at Alex and smiled. I hoped he lived the life he was meant to.
He was made to be great; I knew it.
I walked through the door and into the empty hallway.
“How do you do that?” I asked, as Ethan pushed himself from the wall he was leaning against.
“We can only walk through doors.”
“So, we can touch things then?” I asked. “Just not people?”
“We can only touch the temples of a living person and make a connection to their mind. And yes, we can touch things, just not move them.”
“Oh.” I walked down the stairs next to him. “Can I ask you something?”
“If I said no, would it stop you?”
“Can I ever change my clothes?” I glanced down at the same clothes I was wearing the night I died. “Because if I knew I was going to be stuck in these forever, I would have chosen something a little bit better.”
The dress I was wearing was tight, and the jacket was a small leather one. It wasn’t comfortable, and neither were the tall high heels.
“Oh, well.” Ethan walked through the front door. “You’re stuck in them now.”
“Can I hit you?” I asked, walking out onto the porch behind him. “Or are you untouchable?”
“Hit me and I’ll hit you back.” He arched both eyebrows. “And the hot bad girl image you are rocking isn’t that bad.”
“Did you just call me hot?” A wide grin spread across my face, and it only got larger when his face turned red with annoyance. “You think I’m hot.”
“Hot, but annoying.” He walked down the porch steps, and I quickly followed.
“If I’d known you were stuck in the clothes you died in, I really would have questioned some of my wardrobe choices.”
“You should see the people who die naked.”
“Really?”
“You were lying.” I placed both hands on my hips. “What happened to ‘I don’t lie’?”
Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “I’m the devil’s son; what do you expect?”
“Is that your line or something?”
“If you are honestly stupid enough to believe what I say when you know who I am, then the shame’s all yours.”
“And you call me annoying.” I grunted and walked up the sidewalk with him.
The street lights were flickering across his enchanted skin, and it only made him look more devilishly handsome. Was I to spend an eternity answering to him?
“I never knew you could do that.” He looked forward as he spoke.
“What?”
“Remain silent.” The corners of his lips twitched slightly.
“Funny.” I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and kept walking beside him. My heels clicked on the sidewalk. Weird to think the living couldn’t hear me.
“Don’t you have questions?” he asked.
I glanced sideways at Ethan. Of course, I had questions, but I wasn’t stupid enough to try and get answers out of him. “Yeah.”
“Then why aren’t you firing them at me?” he asked. “Usually, you don’t shut up.”
“You’re a liar. Why would I ask a liar?” I challenged him by raising an eyebrow.
“Fine, whatever.” He rolled his eyes and picked up his pace, which I had a feeling he did just to annoy me because I couldn’t keep up with his long strides.
“So, is it always like that?” I asked, my heels clicking more as I had to take more steps to keep up with him. “Dude, slow down!”
“If you are referring to your experience with the living back there, the answer is no.” Ethan’s pace slowed slightly. “And you walk slow.”
“Explain in more detail, please, and I do not.”
“You knew him.” Ethan walked slower. “You had a connection with him, so it was easier for you to make contact and search through his mind. You knew roughly what to search for.”
“So, it isn’t usually like that?” I liked this slower pace we were now keeping. “Is it harder dealing with strangers?”
“It’s different.” Ethan pulled something out of his pocket.
