Phantasm: Of The Dead

A little Asian girl was dancing on the curb, humming to herself. If someone had seen her, they probably would have wondered where her parents had gotten to, or perhaps think with scorn about no one taking visible care of this child. It's unlikely anyone would have thought her waiting for someone else, or anyone she had specifically called for. She dug into her pocket and looked at her cell phone, or at least something that appeared for all intents and purposes, to be a cell phone. She chattered to herself in some sort of imaginary language, and started to walk down the street. The girl took the phone and dropped it into her pocket, apparently reassured of where she should have been going.

The city she walked in wasn't large by any means, but it wasn't tiny either. Not really the sort of town where one would know everyone’s name, which allowed this little girl to flit around on the streets without notice, but it was also small enough to keep her from being in danger merely walking around. Well, at least the sort of danger that she wouldn’t be able to handle. At the very least, not many prospective pedophiles expected the child they were following to go into a dark alley on her own. But once they followed her, she’d leave on her own with the same cheerful grin and off-tune hum. She touched the screen on her phone-like object and strolled down the street, scratching her head as she looked up at a small brick office building.

For a moment, she looked around, almost like she was somehow going to pull a cookie jar out of thin air and snatch a treat from it before she dashed across the small sidewalk and opened the small green door. She hurried through the door and closed it behind her, laughing when it closed. She spoke to herself in the imaginary language that was apparently speaking earlier as she smiled in the hallway she had let herself into. Skipping down the hall, the nondescript little girl smiled and sang her way down the hall singing a bizarre form of Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and several other languages that may or may not have been dead. She stood in front of a door, evidently having a stare-down with the door. The little girl stood up on her tip-toes, grabbing the handle of the door. It opened easily to an office, one unoccupied and kept meticulously clean. She looked around the room as she let the door swing closed behind her.

There were no windows in this office, only doors. The one behind her, as well as two behind the pine desk near the far back of the room. An old leather chair sat behind it, and a lamp rested on top of it. She scrambled onto the chair and clapped her hands. The lights went out for a moment and came back on. This must have been a new feature, as she clapped her hands several times before she got bored and let the lights stay on. Digging once more into her pockets, she checked her phone, as well as the message that she had sent out several hours ago. Not that this message would have only reached them if they had cell phones, it certainly could have found those less technologically capable by means of a note written by someone reliable, or by a sudden suggestion from a friend. But this was how she frequently mad requests, and at least some of the people who got it would answer. It read, in simple large print, “Please come to the Kidd Buildings in Walker at 3:00PM. If you need to ask where that is, you need not come.”

Simple, to the point, and easy to understand, just the way she liked. She smiled and left the screen she was on and sat back in her chair. At least, she acted as if it were her chair from the way she treated it. She clapped and shut the lights off, it only for a moment. However, when the lights came back on, she was no longer in the room; instead, some strange man was sitting in her place, looking not even remotely like her. No, this man was black, clean-cut, head shaved, middle-aged, perhaps, nothing like the little girl who had been there for moments before. He tapped his fingers on the desk, staring at the door that the girl had entered from, the one now sitting before him. Between him were two doors, one black and one white, neither of them with any evident significance. He smiled, warmly, welcoming. He was waiting, just as the little girl had. He was waiting for someone to walk through that door, though he had no idea who.

He had never really wanted to die. His life wasn't the most pleasant, but he had something to live for. It was all for her, to make her world a better place. She didn't deserve the tears, the pain, the suffering... When she let him go, made his existence out to be a mistake, he felt like he deserved it at the time. He knew in his heart that he wanted to live, to be strong, to rise above those who had always put him down and put her down, but in the end he ended up being just too weak. Mikon had always been weak. From the day he was born, fate must have decided that he wouldn't be able to do anything right. Sometimes he wondered if he was cursed, and other times while living he wondered if God had played a sick and cruel joke on him. Was he just another ant under a magnifying glass, unknowingly and slowly melting away? He felt so tiny, so insignificant, easily crushed beneath everyone’s feet.

Death had always scared him, and his frailty had only made real life situations worse. He was paranoid of all things surrounding him, from people to bike riders, to bus stops. Anything could happen, and yet people walked around smiling and so care free. Didn't they realize that they could lose everything they ever had in a blink of an eye? Mikon thought that most people were idiots, morons that didn't understand that life was so easily lost. How ironic that he, the most cautious of all, ended up being the first out of those morons to lose his life. He hated that he was extremely envious of the living, because they took everything for granted and never appreciated their elders, their friends, their lovers, or even their material pleasures. Always complaining, always whining, always wanting more from the world when they had so much to live for. He knew it was a terrible thing to feel and that envy was a selfish way TO feel. It was pathetic to want something that he himself had taken away. In the end, he was the ultimate hypocrite and his rage was beyond any other emotion he'd ever had. It wasn't rage for those who had taken their lives for granted, or for anyone that may have wronged him, but for himself. The hatred he had when he thought of his face staring back at him, was overwhelming.

By his own hand, he had destroyed his physical body, and let his memories slip through time and space. He didn't want them anymore; he didn't want to feel anything. As further punishment, he couldn't escape torture even in death. Haunting visions appeared often, and he wondered if he even existed. If he did exist, what now was his purpose? Was this unanswered question, this unnerving feeling, to be his eternal punishment? He always tried not to think, not to feel, not to see like he had wanted to do before his life had ended, but it was not the escape he had wanted. Oh no, it was far worse. It made him realize that he was a fool for taking his life for granted. He wanted to go back, to apologize to her and to make things right again... and now he never could. What he wouldn't give to dedicate his life to someone else, to make them feel like they belonged, and for the two of them to belong together. It was the only thing that had ever brought him true peace, and now he had thrown it all away. His timid and fragile human being hadn't been able to handle the stress, the emotional melt down that had occurred. Even when he knew it wasn't her true feelings, he couldn't escape the pain except for one way. The coward's way.

Slowly, he started to forget about her. Her name he had never been able to remember since death, and her face slowly grew from a sweet and loving smile, to a sick and twisted demon with a mocking grin. The jagged teeth that threatened to tear apart what little of him was left, floating around somewhere was something that he was always running from. It was that tender and welcoming voice that he was now searching for, and it felt so close and yet at the same time, it seemed like it was thousands of miles away. It drove him absolutely insane with longing. He was clinging to something on earth, and he could never let go of it no matter how hard he tried. Instead of trying to let go, he eventually grew attached to that warm voice in the back of his mind. It was the only thing that made him feel safe anymore, and he realized that letting go of that could mean being swallowed by the abyss forever, while demons tore him apart bit by bit until nothing really was left of him. Not a single thought, a single question, not this torturous limbo - simply, nothing. Though he could not remember a thing from the past, he knew that this was the most frightening feeling he had ever experienced during life or death.

Sometimes, he had to talk to himself to stay sane. He didn't know if it was possible for him to go crazy or to lose his mind if he even had one. He told himself that he'd be okay, that it was all a dream. He never needed sleep and never felt tired, just wandering aimlessly talking to himself and trying to make sense of things. He even figured out that talking to himself was already a step towards insanity, and that chasing a voice that didn't even belong to any tangible being was a ridiculous goal. It was an unobtainable dream. It was like he was stuck in the middle of illusion and reality and could never fade into one side or the other. Somehow though, he had to make it back to earth. Back to where she was waiting.

“I can't escape.”


…?


“These faces... of people I don't know.”


…I see. Do not dwell so much on it. Your heart is aching so badly.


“How can I not? This torment is constant!”


I… I didn’t mean it as a bad way, I’m just very concerned. I want to help you. Please continue!


And with that she woke up.


Frightened that she woke up abruptly again, Yaakun Chi quickly cursed at herself and turned over in her bed, feeling awful for leaving the spirit yet again, all because she kept waking up randomly. She hated being so rude to those in need and now felt like the ugliest person in the world. Usually she slept pretty well, but ever since she heard the same voice cry out, she’s been paying attention towards their needs; looking to see if they needed any love or were lost on their way, but it was so difficult. The spirit never paid too much attention towards her and was lost in its own world. She was beginning to think that maybe she really didn’t stand out to it that much and began to form a frown.


‘<I must not be so upset about this,>’ Yaakun thought as she turned over in her bed, rubbed her forehead, and tried not to dwell on the leftover feelings. ‘<I must be patient. The poor thing needs guidance and maybe I can help? No…I MUST help! A spirit in pain is a first priority. I must set things right.>’


“<YAAKUUUUUUN~! WAKE UP! WE WANT TO PLAAAAAAAAAY~!>”


Her eyes then widened and looked out at her huts’ window as she saw two little girls jump up and down outside, one of them carrying a big ball on top of her head. Smiling softly, she slowly moved out of her bed and started to get her special traje attire on.


‘<Today feels like a yellow day!>’ Yaakun thought out and she picked up her specially sewn Huipil top and wraparound ankle long skirt out of her wooden drawer across from her left bedside. Going underneath her bed, she took out a compartment that was full of her special medium clothing, one of which was a special yellow sash she needed for her day today. With this picked out, she wrapped her ensemble together. When she started to move towards the small wooden dresser with a mirror installed behind it, her special beauty dresser as Yaakun called it, she started feeling and brushing her head, starting to think up of what kind of ribbons to wrap her braid in. Once she finally got started on working on braiding her long thick hair, she pulled a ribbon from the drawer of the beauty dresser and started to weave the ribbon within the hair until it was complete. She then put on her leather sandals, her beautiful gold and blue earrings on, and took off outside to see the girls.


A few hours later within the afternoon Yaakun started to yawn and stretch. Telling the children she had to go back to work and how they needed to get ready to help their momma’s with their meal preparations always pained her. Seeing their faces fall and upset made her feel like such a bad person, but they soon told her goodbye and ran towards their homes. She looked after them running and smiled warmly. Suddenly she heard a yelping sound and soon turned towards the sound, looking worried. There was a poor woman from her tribe trying to wave her towards her husband, who apparently collapsed on the ground, coughing violently. Wide-eyed, Yaakun ran quickly towards them and started to take charge, telling her and nearby people to help bring him to her hut so that she can perform the ceremony.


Once they all were inside her palapa hut, she then quickly started placing a clean sewn mat on top of the circular rug in the middle of the area and began to tell them to lay him in the center. Surrounding the area was physical artifacts on tall thin wooden stands, each representing a past priest. It was necessary for her to be surrounded by the items so that she would feel better concentrating her energy on the sick. Along with the artifacts were dozens of flowers and incense scattered within this section of the hut. With the man in place she then ordered his wife and concerned patrons to stand to the side as she began to relax herself. With her eyes closed, she slowly concentrated on the veins connected to the ink of her tattoos and slowly began to hum. Pretty soon her body began to grow a bit of excess energy. Feeling it, she placed her hands on his body, and with the help of divination, started to feel for the part that had the weakest energy.


‘<Here’s the spot!>’ she thought when she felt the high left side of his chest.


Knowing the area, she then went back to his head, left arm, and right arm and one after the other traced over the bloodlines to where his weakest spot was. With her tracing, and her excess energy, she guided the rest of his energy towards the spot where there was pain.


“<Please relax and trust in me.>” She stated smiling and she looked down at the man and his breathing calmed down a bit, concentrating all on her eyes.


Grateful that he wasn’t coughing as much and started to slowly breathe regularly, she then pushed all her energy into him, chanting a small prayer and kept tracing all over his bloodlines until he started breathing regularly. She then heard her wife cry with joy as she saw that her husband wasn’t coughing violently anymore. Smiling at her accomplishment, she then thanked the man for helping her out and motioned for the wife to come forward. When she did, Yaakun gently held onto her hand and told her that her husband was healed now, but needed rest right away. Thanking her profusely, she then grabbed her husband and helped him walk out of her hut. The rest of the patrons were thanking her also and all Yaakun could do was smile; she loved seeing her tribe happy after all!


After putting away her equipment and saying goodbye to her villagers, she then began to eat and soon get ready for bed.


‘<I know it is late, but why do I feel so drained?>’ Yaakun thought as she rubbed her neck and began to take off her sash and skirt.


‘<It must be from helping that poor man out today…and those dreams conversations,>’ she thought with a pout. ‘<Do I even call those dreams? I mean I know I am talking to a spirit, but why in my sleep? Why can’t this spirit talk to me when I try calling for them?>’


She then walked to her window and looked at the moon.


‘<Is it me? Am I failing in my skill? Maybe it’s another spirit playing a trick on me? This wouldn’t be the first time, but still…his energy felt pure to me. I felt like I connected with him very easily.>’


Grabbing the bottom of her window, she tightened her grip while she started to speak.


“<I-I want to help so much, but I don’t know what to do. Please give me strength and tell me who they are.>” she said while clasping her hands together, praying.


All of a sudden she felt a cold chill surrounding her upper body along with a cold puff near her ear.


“They’re…demons. They want to devour me.”


Stunned and wide-eyed, she recognized that voice instantly and slowly looked to her left. Seeing his face for the first time, she shivered.


“<Who are you?>”


He tilted his head, and with a smile on his face he answered,


“Mikon.”

The building, quiet and devoid of activity, greeted Layne as she walked into the building. There were no businesspeople, security guards, information consultants—there was no one, just Layne and her silver ring.

She was a bit surprised. Kidd Building was right in the heart of the city with hundreds of people walking around the building daily. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she had expected people. Clean and sterile, the marble floors of the building were a brilliant sea-green color, the walls and ceilings untouched with not the slightest hint of filth. It was terribly quiet, her footsteps and the soft whirring of the escalators echoing throughout the large halls of the first floor. Everything was still working, from the lights to the escalators of the entrance, assuring her that there was at leastsomeone running the building.

She watched disdainfully as the soles of her dirty shoes left a mark on the black steps of the escalators, her own hands leaving a smudge on the previously untouched glass handles. If there was such a thing as being too clean, this building was the perfect example of it. By the time she got to the second floor, she slipped out of her shoes and opted to walk barefoot instead, considering how clean the floor was and how dirty her shoes were.

The second floor was no different than the first, except instead of a wide empty space with an escalator, there was a long narrow hallway to the front of her, with what looked like an elevator at the very end. No windows, doors, or any other way to reach the rest of the building’s floors without this elevator. With no other option, Layne walked towards the elevator and pressed the single UP button.

She did not know how long she waited for. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been an hour; she was too preoccupied with her thoughts to keep track. Who had sent the message, first off? She had tried looking at the sender’s number, but all that was written were three bold question marks. She couldn’t have been the only one given the message, considering how the message was written as if it had been addressing more than one person, and to why she was sent this message along with the others who got this message, she wasn’t sure. But this message seemed like a calling for Layne, and she could not understand why. The logical side of her wouldn’t have bothered with the message, regarding it as nothing, because it had nothing to do with her. And things were a waste of time when there was nothing to gain; and she was well aware that this was completely naïve and dangerous as well. She was willingly falling into a trap.

But Layne didn’t mind. As long as she was entertained, she was willing to do anything life-risking. The pure thrill of playing a game where lives were at stake, even hers, was more exciting than playing safe and slowly dying from boredom.

If Layne Maddox had been given a gun, she would have most certainly pulled the trigger. Not from naivety, but from the adrenaline. She could care less.

The glass above the elevator beeped, and a bright green UP sign appeared on the glass. She could hear the elevator coming from above, the mechanics of the machine whirring as it slowly pulled to a stop. When the elevator doors opened, Layne stepped inside, noting how plain the elevator looked in comparison to the building. The walls and ceiling were a dull gray, with crooked and dusty handles that looked like it needed to be replaced.

It was only when the elevator doors closed, Layne realized that there was no button.

She was going up despite not having pressed anything.

Layne smirked and leaned back. She was looking forward to seeing what would happen next, as she had already given up on guessing.

Silence filled the house as sock padded feet made their way down dark halls and past empty rooms. Part of her didn't know why she was bothering to be quiet, everyone who would have been sleeping were getting ready for an exorcism in another part of the house. Still, it was best to make as least noise as possible... just in case someone had forgotten something in their room. It wouldn't hurt to try and improve her skills of sneaking, either.

Words that her father so often told her echoed in her mind, and she grinned. "Use every opportunity to train. Everything you do, everything in life can be used to increase your skill and awareness of ghosts. Never forget that."

How many times in her short twelve years had he said that to her? Her father never seemed to miss a chance to turn a situation into a lesson. He was always drilling her and testing her. But, no matter how much she improved, she never seemed to be ready enough for him.

With one hand out to guide her, she groped along the wall for the edge of the next hallway. Fingers slid over rough wallpaper before she found the corner. Once she had turned, she saw a faint light coming from beneath and around one of the doors.

She shouldn't be doing this...

Pushing the thought from her mind, she continued forward, pressing her body against the wall and being as soundless as she possibly could. If someone caught her, she would be in so much trouble.

Reaching the door, she knelt, straining to see anything through the crack in the door. By the light of the lamp on the table, she saw her father as he talked with her mother. They were arguing... but, of what, she couldn't tell. All she could hear was little snippets.

"We can't do this anymore, John!"

"It'll only be a little bit longer. You know that, Mary," he pleaded in a low voice.

Her mother shook her head. "No. It's getting more dangerous. What if something happens to Deborah or Paul or-"

"I know. Just a little bit longer, alright?"

"John-"

"Please, Mary. Trust me."

Her mother hesitated before nodding reluctantly. "Soon?"

He nodded.

What were they talking about?! Their voices fell, and she strained closer to the door, trying to pick up something... anything! Her parents hardly ever argued.

The creak of floorboards sounded from behind her and she whirled-

Violet eyes opened to the coffee shop before falling down to the table, as Mara was pulled back to reality. Vibrating against the wood, the screen of her cell phone lit up with a text message alert. Picking the device up, she pressed her finger to the screen to open it.

1152 E. Broadway at 11 pm. You will be alone.

Mara stood. Before making her way to the door, she dug a few dollars out of her pocket and laid them next to her cold, half-drank cup of coffee. Outside, the sun was just beginning to sink over the line of the buildings around her. Her watch said it was 9:35. She had just enough time to get the rest of her weapons from her apartment before the job.

Her coffee break was over... it was time to get to work.

There was an old saying that went ‘all roads lead to Rome’, and the gentleman sitting at his desk always found this to indeed be true. Many different paths can lead to the same goal, the only disappointment was that only one person had apparently found him. He stroked his chin as the door to his office opened, revealing someone he did not know and knew innately. This girl was named Layne Maddox, and although they had never met, he knew her hair and her eyes, especially. It was a shame none of the other thousands of presences he could feel had arrived to greet him as she had as of yet, but he had to give it time.

After all, humans are nothing, if not patient, so why not wait as they had? He realized that there were many hundreds of ways that the building could decide to shape itself to greet its guests, that his office could be located within a maze of several thousand others, that the building could take you this way or that, depending on its mood that day. The bright side of such a moody building was that it meant he’d be able to prevent anyone with ill intents about him from entering. He never understood this building, it was as complex as a human heart and almost four times as emotional, though it always seemed the same to him.

“Welcome, Miss Maddox. I’ve been expecting you. Feel free to take a seat,” He said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk, though if he wished he could make any number of seats appear beside it with nary a person noticing it. What did he already know about Layne? He knew she had a spirit unlike an exorcist or a medium, which meant that she’d definitely be someone who was either currently possessed or soon to be so. There were a few like her, he realized, that were quietly, perhaps unknowingly heading his way.

Time still remained for them to arrive, though if he had to end up sending Miss Maddox on her own task, then so be it. The current one he was calling for all of these people for would be far too difficult for her to handle on her own, he was afraid to say. But he could certainly pull up files for her that weren’t as difficult as what he had in mind, it would be no trouble at all. “I certainly hope that others arrive soon, this would be dreadfully dull without them. Do you agree?”

This wasn’t to say that he personally believed Layne to be a dull person, merely that if they arrived, he could set before them a greater challenge. And after all, the greater the challenge, the more interesting things humans tended to do when faced with it. He could feel people recognizing his presence, feel them understanding the importance of this building, but they weren’t yet prepared to start heading out. If it were necessary, he could move the building to somewhere more central, but for right now, he kept the building in the place that it was. But he could feel the doors behind him rattling in their hinges, waiting for their next guest, the black one groaning mournfully as the white one’s hinges jingled like a bell.

It knew the spirit he was looking for, and the doors realized that he was seeking out people to help him. The doors hoped that he would find this spirit soon, but he hoped that they would be patient with its recovery. Humans, while patient, were not widely known for being reliable, and sometimes they went back on their sworn word. He wasn’t human, so no one working underneath him would ever need to be concerned about this. No, they would need to be concerned about the doors being disappointed with them, as they were the only ones who could swallow up others against their will and suck them into a terrifying dream world.

But hopefully, this time, he wouldn’t need to be concerned with it. With any hope, the rest of the people would arrive, and he could send them on their mission to retrieve this lost soul.

Someone would walk by and see the fallen bag of groceries. They would notice the curry mix, spicy, and wonder who had dropped it. They would look around for the owner and notice a trail of something dark, something wet. They would walk over, perhaps they would kneel to get a better look. If they were daring they would touch the wetness and recoil when they realize they were touching blood. Their eyes would follow the blood trail and their face would pale at the sight of a bloody palm print on the wall. They would back away and hope someone else, anyone else, was inside that building and whoever had dropped the curry would be alright.

Then they would walk away and try to forget what had happened in front of the Kidd Building.

In a poorly lit bathroom the sound of rushing water covered the sound of sniffles and gasps for air. The small woman interrupted the water's flow with a wad of paper towels. She had finished cleaning up the blood and with a quick check from the internet (thank god for cell phones with internet connections) determined she and her baby were going to be fine. Well, fine enough. True, most of the sources insisted on her visiting a doctor, but she felt much better with the cool paper towels against her forehead.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word...Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird." Her hand was shaking as it rested against the bulge under her dress and her voice was raspy. A drop of water fell from her forehead down the side of her cheek, merging with the trail left by her tears.

What was it Ken use to say? 'Don't be upset, sweetie. I'd punch God to make you happy but then I'd be turned into a newt and you'd be upset again. It'll be a vicious cycle.' Yeah, he said that a lot and the absurdity of the statement would always bring a smile to her face. But Ken wasn't here to punch God. He wasn't here to hold her hand and reprimand their child for being to mean to her.

"Ken, I'm scared." She told her reflection, hoping he could hear her. "The baby keeps hurting me and something bad is coming and I don't know what to do."

She wanted to lay down and go to sleep. She wanted to wake up and find Ken holding her close, whispering silly things into her ear. She wanted to make friends who would go shopping with her and tease her about how long her hair was. She wanted to have a beautiful baby without worrying that it was dying. She wanted to have a baby without worrying it was going to kill her.

"And if that horse and cart break down...you'll still be the sweetest baby in town."

Something cold touched the back of her next, but when she spun around there was nothing. “Ken?” Her arms circled her stomach and her eyes narrowed. Her Ken was never cold. He was warm and sweet and he would protect her and their child. She would protect her child.

“You’ll still be the sweetest baby in town.”

Slowly Hotaru stumbled out of the bathroom and down the hall until she found a door. The name tag on the door was faded and impossible to read but something told her, loudly, that this was what she needed. So she knocked and waited, hoping her smile was bright enough to show just how happy she was to be meeting whoever was behind the door.