Happily Ever Afterlife

by J A Campbell

  Alice gazed into her skirts, then at the floor, then at the dog, who seemed to watch her from the corner of his eye. Slowly, she crouched down, cringing every time the coins clinked together. She reached the floor and lowered the fabric of her skirts, letting the money flow like a bronze river to meet the other coins. One by one, she picked up a coin and dropped it into her skirt, picked and dropped, picked and dropped, until her skirts were heavy and glittering. The flame spluttered and shifted away, unmasking walls as it went. Alice struggled to her feet and followed the flame, her back against the walls, her eyes on the dog, until she had made her way through the next door.

  As the flame glowed brighter, Alice screamed and tumbled backward. Coins clattered about her feet. Standing before her was a colossal dog, with eyes the size of wheels. His fur was black and slicked back, as if he was covered in tar. He gazed straight at Alice, and the flame danced so brightly that it seemed as if he would pounce at any moment. Alice dropped her hands to the ground to steady herself and found them plunged deep into a sea of golden coins. As her eyes focused, she saw that the coins were piled higher than the others, almost up to the ceiling, and the walls glimmered and shone. She plucked a coin and held it up to the light; it burnt as bright as the flame. She dropped it into her skirts, then another and another, her eyes always safely trained on the dog.

  Alice's hat slipped down over her eyes as she grabbed at coins; she pushed it back, and then stopped. She tugged at the brim; it tumbled into her lap and her hair fell down in waves. She shook her head gently. The dog seemed to bob his head to the side, unblinking, though his teeth dug into his jowls like knives. Alice shifted herself and carefully, as quietly as she could, poured the coins from her skirt into the hat, freezing every time they so much as clinked against each other.

  When the hat was filled to the brim, Alice stood up and gripped the doorframe, balancing the hat in the crook of her arm. The flame crackled; she glanced toward it and saw a dull, grey box nestled between the dog's feet. She took a step forward, and then stopped. The dog licked his lips, unblinking.

  "There, there," her voice trembled as she reached out her hand, "I won't hurt you, boy. It's alright."

  The flame dimmed the closer she got. The dog's nostrils flared. Alice froze. The tinderbox felt cold in her fingers as she snatched it up. She stumbled backward and out of the doorway, racing past the second dog and flying past the first. She vaulted up the stairs two at a time and didn't stop until she had reached the first room. She pushed the bulging hat out into the night and propped it on a bed of branches, then hoisted herself up and out. She sighed as the night air washed over her face.

  "Ah," the ghost whisped around the tree trunk, his eyes glowing like freshly stoked embers, "You have returned with the tinderbox I see, and a great deal more besides."

  Alice groaned as she clambered down, landing on the ground with a thud. She reached for the hat and held it tightly to her chest.

  "You said that you would tell me where my husband is," she said.

  "Ah yes." The ghost fluttered forward. "But first, the tinderbox."

  Alice grabbed the box from her hat and clutched it in her fist. She narrowed her eyes toward the pile of smoke.

  "No," she said, "First you will tell me where my husband is and how I can find him."

  The ghost shuddered and swayed from side to side, his eyes spitting flames. He curled around her, making her shiver, then he fell back.

  "Very well," he said eventually, "Your husband is dead. You may find him in hell."

  "How dare you–" Alice raised her fist and swiped the tinderbox at the mist, but her arm flailed through and out the other side. The ghost swirled like a tornado, his eyes flashing and disappearing into the smoke, then reappearing redder than before. Alice clutched the hat to her bosom and took two paces forward, bursting through the fog, her skin prickling with ice.

  "I am telling you the truth." The ghost hissed. "Give me my tinderbox."

  "No." Alice's legs shook as she walked. Trees reached out to clasp her, branches scratched at her hair, pulling her this way and that.

  "He is in hell," the ghost cried, his voice desperate, "Please, the tinderbox."

  Alice shook her head. The coins tinkled and she cradled the hat tighter, tucking her hand into her armpit. The other hand held onto the tinderbox so tightly that she could barely feel it anymore. She glanced down at the dirty metal peeking between her knuckles. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, bleeding into each other.

  "You are a liar!" She cried. Then she ran. Her feet pounded against the rocks and slapped at the mud. She tightened her arm around the hat and the coins jingled with every bound. She heard the ghostly wail for miles, haunting her brain, ebbing then chiming in once more until she was certain that it was mostly imaginary.

  Once she reached the village, Alice stumbled to a stop. A few coins jumped out of the hat and fell, tinkling to the ground. She glanced down, but the moon had hidden itself behind a cloud, shrouding her in shadows; and besides, she had plenty now. She slapped her hair away from her face and walked the rest of the way home, conscious of the deepness of her breath, the tightness of her chest and the heaviness of her load.

  * * *

  The years had been good to the young woman they once called Alice Cotter. Not only had she aged more favourably than her peers, she had also become accustomed to the sort of wealth usually only granted to those far above her station. So far removed was she from her old life, that many were too fearful to even smile at her in the street, preferring instead to bow their heads, as if she were royal or deceased.

  Alice had apparently come into a great deal of money and had, therefore, decided to move out of the village and into the city. As is the way of life, those who hadn't known her discovered her through gossip, and finding her to be only mildly interesting, declined to know her further. So it was then that Alice was destined to be alone and lonely, with only her jewels and coins for company.

  One night, when Alice found herself afflicted with the sort of boredom that eats away at a person like an army of sewer rats, she began wandering around her house. She stroked her fingers over dusty shelves and thought of dusting. She rapped her fingers against the fireplace and contemplated lighting a fire. She picked up a lost coin from the chest of drawers and spun it so it whirred and rattled when it fell. Finally, her eyes fell upon something grey and dirty, something square and forgotten.

  The tinderbox seemed to speak to her through her haze of isolation. It seemed to whisper or hiss. She leaned down and her hair washed against the wood beneath the box.

  Cold, it whispered, cold.

  Alice frowned and grabbed it, holding it up to the light. She hadn't touched such a grubby thing in so long that the sight of the grit in the grooves made her nauseous. She dropped it back onto the chest and glared at it. It lay silent once more. Alice turned away.

  Cold, it hissed again, cold.

  Alice spun around. The box was still and very obviously inanimate. She picked it up again and flicked it open. The dry tinder puffed out and Alice sniffed it. Gingerly, she scraped the flint against the fire steel. Nothing. Again, she scraped it, harder. Again, nothing. One final time and the tinder burst into flames.

  The lights in the room flickered and died. Alice dropped the tinderbox to the floor, but it continued to burn. She backed against the wall as the ground began to tremble. The bells lining the mantelpiece jingled and fell to the floor with a smash, smash, smash. Alice clasped her hands together and bowed her head, whispering under her breath.

  "Oh God," she said, "Help me, Lord. Please help me, Lord."

  The world stilled. She opened her eyes and screamed. Standing before her was the monstrous dog from years ago, with eyes the size of saucers. His jowls dripped a clear slime onto the carpet and his claws flashed in the light of the tinderbox. The dog stepped forward and Alice gasped. Around the dog's neck was a thick red ribbon, tied around a tatty scroll. The dog stared at her blankly.

  "Do y
ou– Do you want me to read that?" Alice nodded toward the scroll.

  The dog blinked. Slowly she reached out a shaking hand and curled her fingers around the edge of the paper. She carefully slipped it from the ribbon and jerked it back. The dog stood still, its mouth glimmering with saliva. Alice unravelled the scroll and held it toward the light.

  "By the light of night and fire, I shall grant your first desire." She swallowed. Her first desire. She knew enough about magic to know when it was real and standing before her with sharpened teeth. She took a deep breath and spoke.

  "My first desire," she said, staring straight at the dog, "is to see my husband."

  The dog dropped his head to the side and blinked. For a moment, Alice considered that this might be some elaborate practical joke; then the dog turned away and leapt out of the window. She slumped against the wall, letting the scroll crumple in her hands. The tinder crackled and spat. Outside a dog howled and another began to yap.

  "Have you missed me?" The voice came from the door, trembling and uncertain. Alice swung toward it; her hands bulged into fists, wrapped around paper. She unballed them and the crumpled scroll dropped to the floor.

  "You're here," she said.

  "Yes." The man took two steps and stopped to eye her up and down. "You've hardly changed."

  "You haven't at all," Alice said, smiling. She reached forward and grabbed his hands from his sides. Pulling them around herself, she leaned into him. "I missed you terribly," she said, her voice thick with tears. She breathed in the smell of him, dirt and wood and the sort of staleness that you only find from books. He was the same; no, not exactly the same. He had the worried brow of a soldier and the dead eyes of someone lost out at sea, but he was hers and he was home.

  "I love you," he whispered and kissed her cheek. She turned her face toward his and touched his nose with hers.

  "I love you, too." Her voice was just a whisper and trailed over his lips. He closed his eyes and leaned in, letting her take the pain away.

  "I have to go," he said finally, pulling away. The monstrous dog loomed behind him, jowls glistening, claws gleaming.

  "Where to?"

  "Far away." He shook his head, "Too far." The tinderbox spluttered and died. The world was dark, but even through the blackness, Alice could feel the solitude heavy upon her shoulders. She knew that she was alone once more. When the lights flashed on again, she could only nod and sit and cry.

  * * *

  The next day came and went with the drip, drip, drip of seconds and the ache of footsteps going in the wrong direction. All Alice longed for all morning was darkness, and the light in the dark. Eventually the moon slipped out, painting the sky navy. She walked into the drawing room, to the same spot where she had stood the night before. She held the tinderbox in her palm and closed her eyes, sucking her lips shut. Then she opened her eyes and scraped the flint against the fire steel. The tinder burst into flames and her hand was filled with light while all around her turned to black.

  The ground began to shake, but nothing fell. She had been bright enough to gather all the glass and china and box it up and tidy it away. Tonight there would be no noise, no fear, no destruction, just love, only love. Alice lifted the tinder box. A glow had settled around her palm like a halo; it only travelled so far. She took a step forward and screamed.

  Standing before her was the enormous dog from years ago, with eyes the size of dishes. His shoulders were hunched and his legs were rigid, as if he were ready to pounce. Around his neck hung a scroll, with a rich, red ribbon wrapped around it.

  Gingerly, Alice stepped forward and clasped the scroll with her free hand. She drew it back to her chest, her eyes still on the dog. His eyes seemed to know her every movement before she had even made it. Still watching the dog, she placed the tinderbox on the bookcase beside her and unravelled the scroll. She brought it closer to the light and read.

  "By the light of night and fire, I shall grant your next desire." She narrowed her eyes at the dog, "My husband," she said, "My second desire is to have my husband until the morning."

  The dog was still, his eyes wide and knowing. For a moment, Alice thought the dog might not move for a hundred years; then he turned away and leapt out of the window. She stood up straight and rolled up the scroll. Beside her on the bookcase, the tinder crackled and spat. Outside an owl began to hoot.

  "I'm glad to know that it's only me you wish for." He was in the doorway again. Alice raced forward and hurled herself at him. He groaned but held her tight. "I missed you," he whispered.

  "You saw me only yesterday." Alice laughed and wrapped a free strand of hair around her fingers. The fabric of his coat was rough against her cheek, but still she nuzzled deeper.

  "Every second is a lifetime," he whispered, his breath frosty on her ear, "Every lifetime is hell when I'm not with you." He winced and clasped his hand to his chest.

  "Are you alright?"

  "My body remembers my wounds when there's life in my blood." He winced.

  "Would you like to sit down?"

  "It's late." He shook his head, "I'm taking you to bed."

  Alice giggled and screamed as he hoisted her off the ground and up into his arms. The room was dark, but with every step they took away from the tinderbox, it seemed to brighten slightly. Alice sighed as he littered kisses down her neck. He tossed her onto the bed and clambered beside her, groaning with every movement. He stopped inches from her, on hands and knees, back bent. His eyes were glazed. He shook his head.

  "Come back to me, Henry," Alice whispered, "I miss you more than air when you're not here. I need you."

  "I love you."

  "Then find a way back to me."

  "I'm here," he said. A chime sounded from the hall, then another and another, until twelve strokes had been counted and the fire died.

  "Henry!" Alice cried. She fumbled in the darkness, her hands grasping at the air, but she knew it and she felt it and she wept until she could weep no more.

  * * *

  Alice hadn't slept, nor had she wished to. She had stared into the darkness all night, her hands clasped, muttering under her breath to God or Henry or anyone who would care to listen and grant her wishes. No one did. She met the dawn with a fresh wave of tears and the realisation that another day would come and go without him.

  Tonight the final dog would descend upon her house and she would be ready, her words would be right and she would have Henry back, forever this time. She took a fresh piece of paper from the study and a pen, and she wrote and scribbled and wrote and scribbled until the sun dipped and the moon rose.

  The tinderbox still sat on the bookcase. As soon as the lights flickered on, Alice grabbed it and scraped the flint against the fire steel. The lights stuttered and blew. The ground began to rumble and Alice bit her lip. The light seemed to throb in her hand, illuminating the blood beneath her skin, glowing red, then only the tangled tinder, then the entire empty room, then only the box. Alice held the box out and moved it through the air. She gasped and the box fell to the ground. It clattered, the tinder toppled out onto the floor, but the fire still burned.

  Standing before Alice was the colossal dog from years ago, with eyes the size of wheels. His inky fur seemed to glow in the firelight and he stared at her as if she were a stranger. Around his neck was a red ribbon that sank down into a bow around a scroll. Alice stepped forward. No time would be wasted tonight. She grabbed the scroll and unravelled it.

  "By the light of night and fire, I shall grant your last desire." Alice took a deep breath. The scroll shook in her hands. "My last desire–" she cleared her throat, "My last desire is to have my husband back, forever."

  The dog licked his lips and almost seemed to nod, and then he turned and pounced out of the window and into the night. At her feet, the tinder hissed, snaking its way over the floorboards.

  Outside someone began to weep. Alice went to the window and looked down. The street was empty. She glanced at the doorway, but there was no-one. She turned
away, conscious that seeing the magic might void it. It might become a dream the minute she saw the smoke, the moment she spotted the mirrors.

  The clock's ticking seemed to get louder. Every second was longer and longer, as if time was stretching itself out. Alice closed her eyes and held her breath. What was taking so long?

  Behind her, something shifted and she spun around, eyes wide. Fire crept across the floorboards and clambered up the walls. The flames licked and crackled. Alice stood still, staring. A photograph fell and smashed. Smoke billowed toward her like a locomotive.

  He wasn't there. He wasn't coming. She closed her eyes once more and held her breath.

  * * *

  "Where am I?" Alice spluttered. Her fingertips stung and her brain was cloudy. Her eyelids fluttered open and closed, taking in the light, then a shadow, then a man peering through thick metal bars, then fire. Fire. She jerked up and backed away, dragging herself on her elbows. The cracked ground sliced into her skin and she screamed.

  "It's alright, it's alright." A hand reached through the bars toward her.

  "Henry?" Alice gasped, "Oh, thank God."

  "I don't think it's God's doing."

  "What?" She followed Henry's gaze and her mouth dropped. All around them black mountains rose up like teeth framed with flames. A red river gushed over the mountains and into a haze of fog. Deep in the darkness, a woman screamed. Alice glanced at the cage bars. They wrapped around Henry, too.

  "Bones," he said, before she could. "Everything here is built on death and pain and suffering. You shouldn't be here." He shook his head. "What are you doing here? Is this another punishment?" His eyes were wild, rimmed with purple. "Is it?"