At Death We Departed, At Death We Returned

By: Slywenda Geeston

A child lay still on top of a pile of soiled clothes. His only comfort was a ratty blanket punctured by three holes of varying sizes. Wrapped in the cotton sheets, the boy tried to keep quiet, but a bloody cough rang through the damp basement. 

Instantly, from his left, came a series of misplaced footfalls. His “caretaker”, Eveline was coming. Repeated harsh jabs from her cane rang through the wretched place fully intent on disturbing any peace the child might have had. The cellar door flew agape as a scornful voice echoed through the solid brick walls.  

“Resting in your filth as always BOY!” Eveline announced promptly as her raisin-like face curled in a scowl. “You look worse than the bed you smother yourself in, and your only joy must come from the high of the stench!” She rasped. 

“You’re Mean!” The boy said as a trail of blood left his button nose. 

“And you’re a wretched creature deserving of such words.” Eveline retorted. 

The child took his precious time to leer at her from beneath the blanket which continued to cover his still form.  

“They died this day you know”, she sneered. “Only bringing such a monster into the world would cause such divine punishment, and here I am coming to finish what had already begun.”  

The boy, highly confused by this statement, slumped his head. He had only seen this hag a handful of times lately. She had only been down here to throw down loose straws of hay or pour strange liquid on the ground. While his thoughts were elsewhere, Eveline took the time to speak her final thoughts to the boy. 

“Time is such a cruel mistress”, she whispered as she positioned her wrist to fling the small stick of fire.  

At that very moment, her wrist snapped at a strange angle. Her own body seemingly betraying her further, Eveline’s hand flew to her throat. She gasped and strained under the phantom hold as it lifted her into the air. The match itself was extinguished by her hoarse breath. The boy peered at his “caretaker” in shock and awe. After a period of diminishing jerks by Eveline, her magic act of strangulation ended, and her wrinkled form hit the ground lifeless.  

Out of thin air appeared spectral forms. A gentle smile graced their faces. They surged at the boy in an unseen motion, each of them wrapping him in translucent arms. The sudden pull took his soul away, and as the group flew from the basement, the sickly and young tent was deserted under the moth-eaten sheet. 

Now amongst the stars, the ghostly trio abandoned the desolate house on the hill.  

Free at last from earthly despair, the smallest of the specters drifted closer to the nonexistent warmth of his saviors.