by Lizz Rizzo
The Shroud Eater: Miasma
The Shroud Eater (Flash Fiction, 2012)
Lizz Rizzo
Copywright Lizz Rizzo 2014
2nd Edition June 1st, 2016
Illustration by: Matty Lasuire
Some things will never change, I thought whilst standing atop the bell tower, staring down into the cesspit of burning corpses. There at the bottom was a new beginning, welcoming me with open arms. It would be the last day of this God-forsaken island, and to leave an oil-painting for all to remember.
I had bargained for my life, a fair trade for the sleepless nights and constant echoes of contagious wheezing moans, wistfully gasping for the years they had taken for granted. I can assure you, their last thoughts were not of loving memories, but of pain and the offering of a sweet release. I lost count of the sands in the hourglass, because it no longer mattered for them. That is what raven doctors were blessed to do: a treatment to wane their suffering for an inevitably woeful end, and out of the kindness of our hearts, a fire to calm the plague.
What was I to do? Regret is poison for the mind, and I could not withstand keeping my rotting flesh a secret no more. Tell me – what place would claim a soul for being pressured to kill a woman? In the silence of death, never had I felt so alone and loved all at once, as I fell into the awaiting embrace for me. To feel the warmth leave my body and cold, dead lips that would leave me breathless, how I so yearned for a chance of redemption. I remember hearing my name fade into an abysmal sea, and I would never hear it again in the blank slate doctrine of the preordained.
“Flowers neither grow nor wilt here. All things are at the mercy of bargained time.” I woke to the ethereal voice which put a halt to my train of thought; my eyes opened to the reverberating call in my mind. As I rose, it was a sight to behold! A creature not of this world, androgynous in human form and colored in a thousand shades of gray with no emotion or inflection in its voice, it was all hollow. An intrusive feeling overwhelmed me, as its foggy eyes gleamed, as if staring straight through an empty soul. A misanthropic, yet sorrowful gaze piercing through a soul just as meaningless.
“Hail, raven doctor.” it bellowed again.
“Where am I?” I demanded, but nevertheless vulnerable of an unfamiliar world.
“You have reached the place for the undetermined.” It spoke again, its appearance equally feminine and masculine in nature. It was as if both a woman and a man were to speak in a distorted unison. I found it troublesome to avert my eyes from its lips sewn tightly shut, stitched with needle and thread, yet I could comprehend its every word.
“You mean purgatory? Is this to be my eternal punishment?” I was never one to feign emotion, but for where I was, I still do not know. It was a place where I felt indescribable pressure, that feeling of climatic precipice, right before I maimed that woman – but the feeling remained endless. By description, purgatory is a torturous place, but this was no purgatory read in the holy book. My existence was between the line of nightmares and dreams.
There were no doors or archways in this room; it was all but a void of narrowed halls. A maze of multi-faceted mirrors surrounded me in every direction, above and below. I saw a part of my face for the first time in eleven years. The raven mask I would wear every waking and sleeping hour, now had become one with my flesh, with only my mouth and left eye exposed.
“Some may call it that... and some can learn so much with open eyes and a closed mouth.”
“You broke your oath of silence?”
The enigmatic being responded with a slow nod. “I earned my place, just as you have. We break silence when born; it would be a foolish thought if we were to not break silence again in death. You may be blessed by the Holy in your realm, but your sins hold no meaning here.”
“Surely murder is not a sin easily forgiven... my guilt still lingers.” No matter the reason, I was in need of answers.
“Murder?” the being questioned me. It stalled for a moment’s time, until it ruptured the air into a threshold of the familiar world, consumed by the plague – as if unveiling a masterpiece.
“The raven doctor must be recalling the shroud eater.” the mystical being gestured toward the gateway of images experienced in my past life. My mouth agape as I stared in wonder of this being's surreal abilities to break through another dimension.
“A shroud eater which feeds on the Miasma is not of mortal or hellish origin, but it can appear as your kind in your world.”
“You speak of the plague?”
The enigmatic being nodded again, “The plague is the material form of the Miasma, while the Miasma controls the deluge of spirits in this realm. If one should be waiting for final judgment, it can determine this judgment by repent of a past memory.”, then it dismissed the strange portal by a simple wave of its hand.
“You see, raven doctor, you rid her of the husk she once possessed, but you did not kill the soul. You are on trial in the place for the undetermined. One must repent before they can be judged.”
“Suicide – I committed suicide. No one sings an elegy for the vain.” I begged for any other way out of this place.
“While your actions are disdained, your intentions were not malicious. One does not expect punishment in the end, when that is all they ever knew. Suicide is not preordained, it is a loophole, like the chasm I just summoned just now.”
“And by whom do I receive my final judgment?”
“This has yet to be determined. My responsibility is neither judgment nor punishment, raven doctor. I am neither evil nor divine, I’m somewhere in between.” It finally introduced itself,.
“Does such a being have a name? I know nothing of a being, but a place that we call purgatory.”
“I have many forms and names, but I do not curate followers or worship... you may call me Limbo.” A suitable name for the ruler of purgatory.
“The shroud eater must be stopped in exchange for your release.” Limbo presented me with a strange gift, a staff emblazoned with black and gold, and a glass orb on the tip.
“The orb will glow blue when you are in range of the shroud eater.”
Before I could properly thank Limbo or ask questions, it summoned another one of its portals bearing unknown symbols from an ancient tongue. In what seemed like a moment’s time, Limbo pushed me into the dimension with the dreadful Poveglia on the other side. There was a sudden melancholic sensation; a great nostalgia overwhelmed me that sent a chilling ache in my bones, as I stood only within a gondola’s ride to the place of rebirth. I used the end of my staff to oar me across murky Venetian waters.
As I grew closer to the coastline of the graveyard island, the orb weakly glowed in a brilliant, light blue, as it hummed with mysterious power. Once again, I heard a faint whisper penetrate through my consciousness, but not of Limbo’s voice.
“Forget me not.” I heard someone whisper.
I slowly lowered my staff and proceeded with caution through the stone corridors of the open courtyard, still covered in vines before my fall. There, nearby the bay was a garden of morning glory, violets and posies. This is where I would spend a great deal of my time, picking the most pungent of scents for my beak. Among the flora were the forget-met-nots, a scent reminiscent of my home. This was my secret place, my own sanctuary where I allowed myself to remember a time -a time when I wasn’t confined to the God-forsaken island. I would allow myself to dream of a life where the scent of burning bodies invaded my senses no longer. Why did I allow myself to have dreams?
The tolling on the bell struck me in panic, as the orb atop of the staff glowed blue.
From out of the air, an ethereal visage appeared before me of a beautiful woman, adorned with a gleaming trinket
around her neck – it bore the same hue as the orb.
“Ah, I see that dear old Limbo has blessed you with the Miasma, as well. Suddenly, I don’t feel so special anymore.” The woman digressed rather unexpectedly.
“Excuse me, milady, but have we met before?” I asked, for I did not recognize her.
“Forgive me, doctor. Indeed, we have once before. You might recognize me a meek, old woman with a brick lodged in her throat. That wasn’t very nice, you know. “her smile faded into a frown. Nothing could have prepared me for this moment.
“I’m sure Limbo has told you all about me.” I could not place any bitter resentment, but I would certainly not blame her.
“Perhaps… Why do I feel that you were expecting me to be here?”
The woman scoffed, her face pursed into a playful pout.
“Let me guess, he promised you judgment if willing to repent? Did you really expect forgiveness for what you had done to me? Kill me once, shame on me, kill me twice… well, you should know by now. Which by the way, you missed a great funeral. A lovely coincidence meeting you here, I was promised the same, except he told me to claim revenge.”
I tossed the staff and relinquished from my defensive stance. “Then I accept it.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re expecting release, aren’t you? Limbo will be quite mad at you if you show up without killing