Taurus: A Hearse of a Different Color

by Sèphera Girón

  “So here, or there, or the bed and breakfast... how long now have you actually been in town?” Dorothy asked him.

  “I believe I’ve been there about a week now. I’ve been actually in town... you know, I was here and then I went up to Boston and took in some sights. Wanted to get a feel for the accents and, you know, looked at some museums, stores, graffiti, and things like that. Just typical tourist stuff. Why? Do you think I brought something back with me?”

  “No, no. I’m just trying to pinpoint if maybe there’s something happening. There might be a like an anniversary of an event or something around this time now. Are you consistently seeing things or is it just once in a while?”

  “It was the first night. I really just wanted to leave, to be perfectly honest. It was a... yeah it was pretty frightening. It’s really hard to describe. I don’t know if you’ve seen ghosts so maybe if you talk to them all the time... I don’t know... it was like someone was standing at the end of my bed staring at me. Even when I woke up and saw them. I was fully awake, I’m sure of it. I didn’t have any beer and I didn’t smoke any pot that night. I hadn’t gotten my supplies in yet so I was stressed and tired. I woke and in front of me... I just figured it’s a shadow, a glimmer, a glint. And it looked human. But on the other hand, it looked like a bunch of threads kind of woven together to create something like a human.”

  Oscar took a long swig of beer. Dorothy wanted to speak but he continued on.

  “Did you ever see that show, it’s like a talent show, called “You Got Talent” or something where are all these contestants come on and they go and do all these acts. Some of the acts are very different. It’s not just singing and dancing like some of the other shows are and, so, these contestants brought in this giant puppet. It took about ten puppeteers, maybe more, to work the puppet. I think it was ten, I don’t remember. The purpose was to share light and he was all illuminated with tons of little speckles of light and he was this giant puppet that kind of moved. It was very eerie, how he moved in a very lifelike manner and he was glowing with dozens of points of light. And that’s kind of like what was at the end of my bed that night except there were more colors. Like, maybe like Christmas tree lights or something long and shiny threading through each other. It really was just pretty mind-blowing. It scared me and...”

  Dorothy interrupted him.

  “So that vision you saw was a realistic person or was it a giant puppet?” she asked, sipping on a beer.

  “No, I only brought up the puppet as a kind of reference or way to frame the image in my own head. What I saw was like regular human size. I couldn’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. Like that puppet, it was just a shape. Even then, the thing I saw in my room... the shape wasn’t even as defined as that puppet was. It was kind of free, far more transparent or translucent perhaps, and it just sat down at the edge of the bed and then it looked back at me.”

  “What do you mean it looked back at you? What color were its eyes?”

  “It didn’t have eyes and it didn’t have holes either for eyes. It was all part of the same fabric, like a mannequin or dummy or something would be before you add the embellishments to it.”

  “Ok, so it sat and looked back at you. Did it say anything? Did the bed sink down when it sat down?”

  “Oh, yes, it definitely had the weight of something a lot heavier than a little puppet. It felt like a human, a person, sitting on the bed. The bed did sink and that’s kind of what woke me up to begin with.”

  “Interesting.” Dorothy said as she stared at the wood-paneled wall behind Oscar. She strained to envision the entity that had made Oscar wake. She imagined him lying in the dark, sleeping in his bed. He probably slept naked. Her lip curved in a half-smile as she imagined his boyish face relaxed in sleep, his sheets covering his bare, ripped torso. And then, he felt that pressure at the end of the bed, more than a cat or dog... a shape... the paneling flowed into patterns, the knots in the wood revealing grasping hands, floating faces. A mournful howl, a loss. Aching turning from an emotion to something solid. “How was it? Him? Her? Did she, he seem angry or happy or... ?”

  Dorothy didn’t look at Oscar, instead, focusing her energy on any messages that might be hidden in the wood.

  “I couldn’t tell... I couldn’t tell what kind of emotion it was feeling, if it had any at all, because it had no features.”

  He stared into his beer. “But now, and thinking back on it all, there was a thickness in the room.”

  He nodded and ran his hand through his hair.

  “A thickness. Call me crazy... it seemed like the corners of the room might have been gone but again, it was night and I only had the glow of the night light. I don’t sleep in the dark in strange places. I like to know what’s happening around me, not so much about ghosts but just... you know. You never know who’s there and I’ll leave it at that,” he said.

  Dorothy continued to stare at the wall, watching his words dance into pictures.

  “Did the figure stand up or crawl or do anything else?” she asked.

  “No. But I do think there was something else there as well. Maybe... I’m not sure. Because of the way the air was so thick, and the room had no corners, but I don’t think it had anything to do with how the night light shadows were cast. It all happened so quickly. I was just waking up and then trying to go back to sleep again. That was horrible.”

  “You didn’t feel threatened?”

  “Well, not that time,” Oscar said, sipping his beer.

  “Another night, I did feel threatened. That’s kind of why I want you to take a look, if it’s okay for you to do so. Or at least, share with me some of the local history. If I know some of the stories, maybe I’ll know what I’m dealing with. I can tell it to go away or maybe move it along to later. Whatever has to happen. What do you think?”

  Dorothy turned her gaze from the wall movie and back to Oscar.

  “I think we should finish up these beers and go back to your place. I’ll see for myself what’s going on.”

  * * *

  As they walked along the road, Dorothy still clutching her broom, the sky’s colors had shifted from the twinkling starry darkness to a deep navy blue where the thinning slivers of dawn were just slicing along the edges. Birds were beginning their pre-dawn calls, and there was even a person or two walking a dog. Fog wafted through the cobblestone streets, creating dancing shadows from the streetlamps.

  “Why do you carry that broom around? You don’t really fly, do you?” Oscar asked. His comment sounded less like a joke and more like a concern.

  “I live in Hermana. And, hey, you of all people should know why someone would carry a prop around,” Dorothy winked. “I’m a real witch even if I play one around town.”

  As they walked past A Hearse of a Different Color, Dorothy stopped.

  “Have you checked out the funeral parlor yet?” she asked. Oscar raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Uh... no. Why, am I supposed to?”

  She led him to the steps, and they sat for a moment, the fog winding in closer like a hug.

  “This place has been here for decades, but the owners... they don’t stay as long. This place falls in and out of family lines. There are so many rumors about who is haunting those hallways, that basement, the attic, that children can tell new scary tales to their grandchildren.”

  “Oooo,” Oscar said. Dorothy smiled, and put a finger to her lips. She spoke in a whisper.

  “There’s a new owner now. A nice young man from New York. He’s bought the place and is settling in for the long haul.”

  “Should he?” Oscar asked.

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “Me? Why would I know?”

  “Shhh...” she put a finger to his lip. “Sit tight and close your eyes. Clear your mind.”

  “Okay...”

  “Shhh... clear your mind. Now, let the senses open. Let the visions come.”

  Oscar sat with his eyes closed but soon his face stopped smilin
g and his mouth hung open in horror. He opened his eyes as he stood up. He took Dorothy’s hand and helped her up.

  “I think that’s enough of that,” he said.

  “Don’t be scared...” Dorothy soothed. “What did you see?”

  “All of it... and nothing. A million colors yet no colors at all.”

  They walked along the street.

  “And how do you feel?” She asked.

  He stopped walking and turned to her.

  “I feel, I feel really good, actually. Now that the fear has gone... It’s like I’m high!”

  “An adrenaline rush... and so much more. This is great. I’m so glad you felt something.”

  They walked more.

  “Thank you for that, for opening me up like that,” Oscar said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  They arrived at the bed and breakfast and quietly walked up the stairs. She had been here many times, participating in séances and other such activities. Oscar used his key to let them in. There was noise from the kitchen. It was either so early or so late that the morning staff had already arrived. Or maybe they never went home.

  The Inn was known for having experienced a couple of unexpected deaths, illnesses and murders. The same as most old historical houses though there was a lot more to the story. Dorothy didn’t want to tell Oscar more about it than she had to because she wanted to experience it for herself. If she spoke too many of her thoughts out loud, she might shape the outcome. If she didn’t have a preconceived notion of what happened, maybe she could unravel which one of the stories was infringing upon Oscar’s sleeping time.

  They went into Oscar’s room. He quietly shut the door and locked it. He took Dorothy’s cloak and hung it in the closet. He removed his own jacket and hung it up as well. Dorothy stood nervously as she watched him go over to the bar fridge and open it. The contents were slim but there was some pop, several small bottles of wine, coolers and some beer.

  “Let’s have a nightcap,” he said. “You said you don’t have to work in the morning and my call isn’t for a long time. I have lots of time to get my beauty sleep, hopefully, if the ghosts don’t bug me.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Dorothy said. She saw he had several combs and brushes on the dresser as well as jars of cologne, moisturizer, some neatly stacked washcloths and other items.

  “I appreciate it. Now, what will you have...” Oscar named off several beers and coolers. Dorothy chose a Flying Monkeys strong ale. As he opened the beer and poured it into a glass, Dorothy slid her hand along the dresser and quickly palmed a comb. She slipped it into her pocket just as he turned around to give her the glass of beer. He poured one for himself as well.

  “Cheers!” They toasted again.

  “Mmm, love the Flying Monkeys!” Dorothy said.

  She perched on the small, overstuffed couch and he sat on the edge of the bed. The room was pretty big for an old New England building, and it was the largest room in that particular bed and breakfast. Dorothy knew that the TV stars were spread out in various bed and breakfasts, inns and hotels across the city because none of the establishments were large enough to accommodate all the actors, crew and other production people affiliated with running a highly successful big budget TV show.

  “Show me on the bed where she sat,” Dorothy instructed.

  “You keep calling it a she,” Oscar said. “Why?”

  “I do? I wasn’t aware I was doing that.”

  “You do. I personally don’t think it was a she. It, she, he —whomever it was, they were sitting right here.”

  Oscar sat on the edge of the bed and then he looked back at nobody on the mattress.

  “Okay, so why don’t you go where you were sleeping and I will be the person who sat on your bed,” Dorothy said.

  “Alrighty,” Oscar said. He took a sip of his beer and put it on the nightstand then he crawled under the sheets and lay his head on the pillow.

  Dorothy stood up, drank several sips of her beer and put it on the nightstand beside his. She stared at him, and realized she was trembling. He was a very good-looking man. She thought he was handsome on television but in person, he was even better. She wanted to touch his face, to kiss him, to crawl into bed right beside him and entwine her body with his. Instead, she stayed focused on the task at hand.

  “Great. Now, where’s the night light?” she asked.

  Oscar pointed to the small light that was plugged into a lower socket.

  “Let’s recreate this properly,” Dorothy said. She flicked on the night light and turned off the overhead light. The room instantly turned from sunny and warm to creepy with shadows.

  “Are you sleeping?” she asked Oscar. Oscar fake snored with his eyes shut. Dorothy quietly walked to the edge of the bed and slowly sat down. Oscar pretended to sleep snore and then, feigning being startled, suddenly sat up.

  “Who are you?” he asked, kicking his feet at the edge of the bed.

  Dorothy turned around and looked at him. Oscar’s eyes grew wide.

  “Oh my God! Don’t do that. You look just like it,” Oscar said as he slipped out of bed. He leaped across the room to turn on the overhead light. “My God, you’re freaking me out,” he said.

  “How? I’m just me looking at you from the end of the bed,” she said.

  “Yes and no,” he said.

  “Yes and no what?” Dorothy asked.

  “When you turned off the light, the overhead light, the room grew thick. The air, like a hot musty day. Didn’t you feel it?”

  “Let’s try it again. I’ll pay more attention this time,” Dorothy said. She had in fact felt the air growing thicker, but she hadn’t been certain. But if Oscar, who presumably wasn’t a witch, had felt it as well, that meant there was something there, something they needed to pay attention to.

  “Oh boy,” Oscar said, letting out a big breath of air. “I’m freaked out.”

  “It’s okay, I’m here with you,” Dorothy said. “Now, get back under the covers, we’ll try this again.”

  Oscar slowly repositioned himself back under the covers and once more, feigned sleep.

  Dorothy turned off the overhead light. She stood for a moment, watching the corners of the room grow wider and smoother, nearly disappearing. The air grew thick. She waited for Oscar to fake-snore then she walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Oscar opened his eyes, and once again, his face registered shock as he leaped from the bed and turned on the light. There was sweat on his forehead.

  “What is it?” Dorothy asked. “What’s wrong? What is happening?”

  “I —the air... it grew so thick... so thick, like I was trying to breathe cotton balls.”

  “Yes, this time I felt the air growing thick as well,” Dorothy said.

  Oscar was trembling as he stood by the wall. Dorothy wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to comfort him, but instead, she stayed sitting on the bed.

  “What else, Oscar? What else did or do you see?”

  “The air was thick and then I felt you sit on the edge of the bed. When I opened my eyes to look at you, you were... are... kind of glowing, almost like that thing did that night.”

  “Me? I was glowing?” Dorothy held her arms out in front of herself, staring at her hands. Nothing seemed different.

  “Are you real?” he asked. “Are you really here or am I high?”

  “I’m here,” Dorothy said. “I’m Dorothy, remember?” She walked over to him and tried to take his hand, but he cringed and turned away.

  “How did you glow like that? How did that happen? How did you come here anyways?”

  “You invited me, remember? You saw me on set and invited me.”

  “Yes, but how do I know who you are? How do I know you’re not one of them?” His voice trembled, and he was shaking even more. He looked at the broom by the door and then back at her.

  “You need to leave now,” he said. “Please.”

  He pointed to the door. Dorothy looked at
him with large eyes. She willed herself not to cry.

  “Leave, please.” His voice trembled.

  “I didn’t do anything, honest. I didn’t... we gotta figure out what’s...”

  Oscar swallowed hard and met her gaze. “I’m tired. Please leave. I need... I need to rest. This is too weird. I can’t do this.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dorothy said as she stood up. She looked down at herself. “Am I still glowing?”

  Oscar looked her over. “No. It’s gone now.”

  “I wonder...”

  “Please don’t wonder anymore. The sun is coming up, the birds are singing, and I need to sleep now.”

  “Good-night, Oscar,” Dorothy said as she picked up her broom. She took one last glance around the room. The air wasn’t thick anymore and the corners had returned. “I’ll see you another time.”

  Oscar silently followed her down the stairs and out the front door. The click behind her as he locked it made her sad, but she shook it off.

  No worries. He’ll see I’m no threat.

  I will show him.

  As she stood on the steps in the bright rays of a new dawn, she squinted, trying to adjust to the light.

  What had spooked him? She closed her eyes and tried to feel inside of his mind. He was too scared to let her in. He sensed her probing and pushed her out. She nearly lost her balance as she began to walk down the porch stairs.

  Interesting. He could block me. Was he aware of it?

  She made her way along the cobblestones, passing A Hearse of a Different Color on her way. The rising sun made beautiful rainbows along the window glass, bouncing off the black metal fixtures, ringing around the gargoyles and then shooting out into the sky. Dorothy stared up at the windows and underneath the glinting, she thought she saw faces peering out at her. She blinked and they were gone. All except one. A pale face framed by dark hair turned to look at her. Their eyes met and a deep chill ran down her spine. Every hair on her arm raised up underneath her cloak. She held the stare for a moment, determined not to break it, not to look away. The sun moved, and a ray glinted into the windowpane, reflecting back into her eyes, temporary blinding her. She blinked. When she looked at the spot again, the sun’s reflection was too bright to see if the figure was still there.