by Kayla Krantz
I hope it’s enough to block out any negative energy and send Chaz on the right path in his afterlife.
Life already seems strange without him. Lána’s coughing rattles me as I think about watching the illness that took my brother do the same to my older sister. My mother stands from the couch, and I look at her, wondering if she has anything to say about the Lána situation.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
She smiles as she looks at me. “I need to lie down, Iri.”
I nod, grasping her hand to lead her to her bed. After helping her settle in, I bring her a glass of water. Once I make sure she’s comfortable, I leave her room with a mission on my mind. I step outside of the house once again and walk past Lána and Gary sitting beside Chaz’s open grave on vigil.
I slip across the darkening field. My heart thumps as I look back at the house behind me, but then, a pair of glowing red eyes catches my attention. I blink and freeze in my path. The creature has the head of a dog, the torso of a man, and hoofed feet. I stand rooted to the ground, wondering if it spotted me. One more blink, and it’s gone.
What did I just see? I wonder to myself, glancing over my shoulder. I fear that the creature is watching me. Had it really been there, or was this just my way of grieving?
I consider going home, and then I remember my sister’s cough. She needs medicine—something stronger than what had been offered to Chaz. Maybe if the dreaded cough is caught early on, that will be enough to get rid of it completely—like my father’s case.
Throughout the entire walk to the Medicine Man, I feel as if I’m being hunted. Twigs seem to snap right at the moments I begin to feel safe again. After a while, I know the sounds aren’t in my mind. I tap my belt on the spot where I usually carry my working dagger, but I don’t have it on me.
The one time I need it, I scoff. If whatever that was came back, I’d be unable to do anything about it. I comfort myself with the thought of how close I am to the Medicine Man’s house—I don’t dare think about the trip back.
My frantic trotting turns into a mad dash through the darkening woods. Before I know it, I’m at the Medicine Man’s door. I knock—harder than intended—and he answers a moment later. An older man of Asian descent, he stands dressed in a red-orange kimono. He looks at me through focused eyes, as if it were mid-day rather than late evening.
“Iri!” he greets me, stepping aside. “Please come in.”
“Sorry to come so late, I won’t be long,” I promise as I step past him. I sit on the couch, wringing my hands together as I try to push away the anxiety I feel at the thought of my trip home. “I’d like to borrow more herbs if you can spare them.”
“For Chaz?” he asks.
A fresh stab of sorrow pierces my heart, but I manage to swallow it away before I respond.
“N-no…he’s passed.”
“When did this happen?”
“Maybe an hour ago, tops,” I say, clenching my jaw to keep any traces of emotion from my tone. I’m yet to mourn in the proper way—I don’t want to have a breakdown in front of the poor Medicine Man.
“I am sorry to hear that. He was a good man. Who are the herbs for, then?”
I dip my head in agreement. “Thank you. He’ll definitely be missed. As for the herbs, I fear my sister may be sick with the same illness.”
The Medicine Man stares at me for a moment, but doesn’t speak as he turns away to gather a bundle of herbs. He looks down at the packet in his hand before passing it to me. I hand him a few dollars in return, but he continues to look at me with that same troubled expression.
“I’ll bring more in the morning,” I promise him. “That’s all I have on me at the moment.”
“That is not it. Be prepared for Ghost Sickness, child,” he warns. “That is one illness I cannot cure, and it is deadlier than all the diseases combined.”
“We’re doing the best we can. Unfortunately, Chaz passed indoors. We didn’t a chance to move him b-before it happened.”
The Medicine Man falls silent again, his eyebrows pinched together in thought. I tense and await a scolding.
“Beware of the Chindi.”
“Chindi?” I echo. “What’s that?”
“The bringer of sickness,” he says. “I will send Naomi by in the morning. She will cleanse your land. Be sure to keep all mirrors covered in the meantime and pray it is not too late.”
I nod and clutching the herbs he had given me.
“Thank you.”
I begin to make my way out the door.
“And Iri?”
His voice stops me. “Be careful.”
The Medicine Man’s parting words haunt me as I slip through the woods, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched. I’ve heard of Ghost Sickness in my time, but never the Chindi. I remember the odd, ugly creature I saw earlier—was that the thing he had warned me of?
I frown, wondering why I didn’t think to ask what it looks like. I decide to ask my parents when I get home—I’m sure they’ve dealt with more deaths than I have. I try to focus on the path ahead as I push my way through the trees. Noticing candle lights up ahead, I know Gary and Lána are close by. I clutch the bag of herbs closer to my chest, thinking of ways I can convince her to take them. When I draw closer, I notice that candlelight shines from the pit of Chaz’s open grave. It’s been knocked inside. My eyes narrow, searching for the outline of two shadows. But I see only one—Lána’s. She’s spread across the ground, as if someone had hit her in the head. Wondering where Gary has gone, I rush to her side, fearing the worst.
But she isn’t alone—that creature from earlier is perched on her chest like an ugly statue. The eyes of its dog-face—which had been focused on her—flick to me at the sound of my approach. The world around me slips away as the beast becomes the only thing I see. It spreads its bat-like wings and lets out a screech that leaves my ears ringing. I clamp my hands over them and watch it approach, not knowing how to protect myself. I remember the candle in the grave, but I fear turning my back to the creature would be the worst mistake I could make.
I take a step back, horrified at the thought of what it can do. My foot catches on the other, sending me slamming to the ground. I open my eyes, hoping it will be gone like last time. But it’s still there.
It smells my fear and hovers an inch away from mine. It’s so close I can smell its breath. My heart threatens to give out as I stare into its deep red eyes. I want to move—to scream, to fight—or to do anything resembling self-defense—but I’m frozen in a trance. The longer I look at it, the fewer questions I have. There’s no doubt that it is the Chindi, bringer of Ghost Sickness and Death, come to claim more than just my brother today.
Of course we dance with our demons.
Our angels are far too shy.
Off Into the Distance
I REMEMBER THE FARAWAY sound of my mother’s voice. She read me many bedtime stories about knights in fantasy kingdoms, destined to rescue beautiful princesses from danger. Each princess had her own demon to be rescued from. I remembered every detail in each fairytale my mother had told me. I loved the battles, the internal struggles, and the last minute victories they told. I never thought they were too feminine for a boy like me to enjoy.
I mean, everyone loves a good story about the underdog, right?
I always tried to picture the beauty of each princess. The pictures showed them in long, elegant pink and blue dresses, looking as perfect as Barbie dolls under their long curls of well-done hair. I could only guess that they had similar faces. It was hard to picture beauty stunning enough to drive dozens of men to risk their lives against dragons, witches and other dangers that could kill them to meet their beloved.
I thought the men in these stories were crazy...until I saw her.
No words came to my mind that could describe her. She possessed the beauty I spent years trying to picture. I was walking the moment I first saw her, but froze when I did, almost as if I had run into a wall. All I could do was marvel, staring at her
and drinking in every ounce of her beauty. I realized then that it wasn’t insanity that drove the knights to extremes—it was adoration; a need to capture and possess the radiance of their maidens.
All the princesses must’ve had the same kind of angel-like beauty that this girl owned. Though I had never seen her before, I felt a fierce need to protect and watch over her, as if she were fragile enough to break at a moment’s notice. She had no idea who I was, but still managed to win my heart with nothing more than a simple glance.
Though just one of many girls at the dance, once I spotted her, there was no looking away—no turning my attention to anyone else. All of a sudden, I was glad I had come without a date. Sitting across the ballroom, I watched the mystery girl’s every move. I could never get enough of her. The light seemed to only focus on her, as if even they needed her presence to shine.
The girl spun and twirled, with her beautiful black hair in a long braid, swinging about her shoulders. The few strands that fell loose circled her beautiful, pixie-like face and the light made her skin look like porcelain. She had a light sheen from the thin layer of sweat that covered her from the exertion of her grace.
I studied her delicate blue dress. It clung to her slight frame, highlighting her most flattering angles. Gem-studded straps flowed into a V-neck pattern that went down to mid-thigh. It had a low swooping back; both dips colored with the same gems on the straps. It seemed to sum up her personality as she danced across the room without a care in the world. She spun and bent with ease, so I idly wondered if she had ever been a ballerina in her past.
I could easily imagine her being a princess, but where was the dragon that I needed to conquer to gain her affections? What needed to be done to call her mine?
The thought made me feel possessive. If she was a princess, then who was the knight destined to be with her? Were there a handful of them that had to first prove themselves to win her love? I was always up for a little competition, assuming, of course, that I would win.
I watched a smirk light up her beautiful features. She beamed at the twirl she had done for her partner—the most breathtaking sight I had seen in my life.
Without realizing it, I stood to my feet. I had competition even closer that I had failed to notice. Jealousy filled me as I glared at him; a stout man with acne and long, scuzzy brown hair. By no means was he graceful on the dance floor, but she didn’t seem to notice. She twirled in his grasp, once again without a care in the world.
I snorted, folding my arms across my chest. I could barely contain my anger, resisting the urge to stamp my foot like a tantrum-throwing toddler. Her partner? He was no knight—definitely not her knight. It should be me dancing with her, not him. He didn’t deserve to stand within a five-foot range of her, let alone touch her. He was inferior—simple as that. I watched the way he smiled awkwardly at her as that song came to an end, and I had seen enough.
A moment longer would be enough to make me tear my hair out. Pushing my way through the crowd with more force than I intended, I approached her. An angered shout sounded behind me, but I ignored it, not caring if I ruffled more than a few feathers along the way. My eyes focused on her.
“May I ask for this dance?” I breathed, extending my hand. My heart thudded as I watched her lips part slightly. When her eyes met mine, I thought my heart would stop. Her light blue eyes were dotted with emerald green specks—as precious as the gemstones they mocked, yet more beautiful than sapphire. Those gorgeous eyes studied me with the same energy I had used to study her, and it was hard to tell what she thought behind the carefully composed mask she wore.
It was an amazing feeling when she said yes. Her voice was gentle as a summer breeze. I was dying to hear her speak again and wondered how she sounded when she laughed. We began to dance, my hands gliding down to her hips. A jolt passed through me as if the very air around her were electrified. I brought her an inch closer, so I could smell her beauty. Her skin had a sweet scent that rivaled lavender—addicting and intoxicating. I couldn’t get enough.
She moved easily to the rhythm of the music as if she had been created to dance. That wide smile still hung on her face as she danced with me, and I took a handful of mental pictures. Every time her long black hair swung in my direction, it brought a fresh wave of her intoxicating scent with it. That moment was the highlight of my life. I knew that I had to have her.
When the dance ended, she tried to pull from my grasp, but I was reluctant to let her go. I tightened my grip, broaching the topic of another dance, but she was desperate to flutter back into the fray. I had no choice. With a frown on my face, I let her go, watching her go back to the man I already deemed unworthy of being in the presence of my Princess.
It’s okay. It’s only a temporary goodbye, I vowed. I cast her one last glance, and left the dance. Outside, I held a cigarette to my lips, as my mind clouded with thoughts of her. I crushed it beneath my boot and hid in the shadows beyond the door, waiting for the pair to leave. The second my Princess stepped outside, my eyes were on her. I watched as she climbed into a dark blue car with the World’s Worst Prince. Climbing into my own, I began to follow them. Despite my excitement, I stayed a good distance behind them. When they pulled into the garage of a house, I circled the block once, before parking my car a few houses down.
Then I waited.
I didn’t have a plan. And, for all my thinking, I wasn’t even sure how to form one. Princes don’t have a plan, I consoled myself as I watched the house she had disappeared into.
My fingers tapped on my knee as I stared into the night. Twenty minutes later, my opportunity came. The "Prince" made his appearance on the lawn to smoke a cigarette. I smirked, reaching into my glove box for my weapon of choice. I clutched the handle of the curved dagger so tightly that I felt a bruise form in my palm. The pain was easy to dismiss amidst the thoughts running through my mind. I twirled the simple blade in my hand, pondering my mission as I crept out of the car, shutting the door behind me. I peered over the nearby hedges, making sure I hadn’t caught his attention.
His back was turned to me, so I wasted no moment rushing up to him. I wanted to make him suffer for staking a claim on my princess, but the possibility of being seen by too many witnesses was high. As much as I hated the thought, his death had to be quick and painless. I snuck up behind him and clamped my hand over his mouth, dragging my blade in a ragged line over his throat.
The “Prince” buckled in my grasp, groaning under my arm as he struggled to cling to the last bits of his life. I sighed, waiting for him to bleed out. He grew weaker until I felt him make one last effort to free himself, before he grew still forever. I let him fall to the ground with a thump and wiped at the blood clinging to my suit.
The pathway to my Princess was opened, and nothing could stop me now.
When I entered the cozy place she called home, I looked around. It seemed as inadequate for her as her choice of a mate had been; small and decorated with a number of figurines and pictures. I picked up the nearest one, showing my Princess holding her partner, with wide smiles on both of their faces.
This is sickening, I thought as I slammed it glass-first to the table I had picked it up from.
“Roderick?” I heard her sweet voice come from somewhere deeper in the house. My ears pricked up. I followed the sound to find her cooking dinner in the kitchen, still in her dance attire.
“He’s not here,” I said, leaning against the counter beside me.
She turned at the sound of my voice, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the recognition in her eyes.
“You-you’re the one from the dance?” she stuttered, taking a step backwards. Her slender hand gripped the edge of the counter.
“I’ve come for my Princess,” I said, offering her a bow of courtesy. “Would you do so well as to oblige?”
“Roderick!” she screeched, catching sight of the blood on my suit.
I understood that she was on the brink of hysterics, but I could only stare at her wi
th emotionless eyes. She tried to dash around me, and my blood ran cold at her audacity. I had proven my worth, yet she picked him over me? Hadn’t he been the obstacle that stood in the way of her finding her real love?
“He’s gone,” I barked, sticking my foot in her path. I had to stop her. The one that I loved with everything in me—the one who didn’t know that I existed—looked up at me through wide, helpless eyes as if her world was crumbling around her. I couldn’t help but wonder why I was so easy to ignore. Why was I so easily pushed aside at the dance?
“Why are you doing this?” she asked her voice trembling as she took another step backwards.
Her eyes darted around the kitchen, calculating her next plan, but it was hard to focus on that. She was so beautiful and even more ravishing with tears sparkling on her cheeks. I got distracted from the mission at hand. After all the time that I had invested in this girl, I knew what the consequences of my decisions would be if I let everything fall apart now.
In the next room, the old grandfather clock struck midnight. I closed the gap between us and grabbed her, dragging her out of her home. Her piercing screams shook the night as she caught sight of what was left of her lover on the lawn. I gave her time to mourn him, time to mourn her last few moments of freedom before tossing her into my car and taking her away.
I blinked, pushing the remnants of that memory to the back of my mind as I dug for the golden key hidden in my pocket. Finding it, I pushed it into the lock, taking care while unlocking the door. I had to be ready for a fight. I hopped inside the room and locked the door behind me.
