Oppressed

by Kira Saito

  Ask him a question? Any question? Clearly, this was some kind of test. What kind of question did he expect me to ask him? At first I was tempted to make it all about me, but that wouldn’t really prove that I cared about him, would it? I took a few moments and reflected carefully on a question that would prove I gave a damn about him rather than being completely selfish and self-absorbed. I felt my palms getting sweaty and my throat getting dry as the minutes started to tick away.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “I know, just give me one more minute. I almost have it.” I tried to stall for time.

  There were several loud sneezes. “Oh please. I was right about you.”

  “How did you die?” I blurted out the question, praying that it would be good enough. “I know that you were murdered and you died a violent and gruesome death. There are countless rumors and myths surrounding your death, but no one really knows the truth. I want to know. How were you murdered? I care,” I said, a little too eagerly, as I inched closer towards the oaks. “Will you please tell me?”

  There was a moment of silence before Ghede Nibo made his grand entrance. Surrounded by cigar smoke and the scent of sweet white rum, basking in the glow of the brilliant moonlight, before me stood one of the most handsome beings I’d ever laid eyes on. He was tall, thin, and surprisingly young, with dazzling hazel eyes, a delicate nose, impossibly smooth toffee-colored skin and finely chiseled cheekbones offset by a pair of full baby-pink lips. His beauty made me envious.

  “I know. I know,” he said, as he extended both of his arms upwards in a dramatic fashion. “I don’t blame you for staring.”

  And shamelessly stare I did. I was hypnotized by how perfectly his black velvet riding coat fit over his body, the swirls of ruffles on his purple shirt, and his impossibly shiny teeth and shoes. I couldn’t help but feel like a downtrodden peasant in my stained white and navy uniform along with my bare, mud-caked feet. After a few minutes of drooling and conflicting feelings of outright jealousy I snapped out of the strange trance. I cleared my throat. “So how did you die?”

  He came close and placed his arm around my shoulder. The smell of sweet rum and smoky herbs was overwhelming, yet very enticing and hypnotic. He thrust the herb-infused rum bottle into my hand. “Drink. Drink. You’re delusional. This will help make things clearer.”

  Again with the delusional crap. “I’m not delusional,” I said through clenched teeth, as I handed the rum bottle back to him.

  He laughed that nasal laugh of his. “Sure. That’s what they all say. Now, back to me. Do you really want to know how I was violently murdered?”

  I nodded, hoping that he would get on with it already.

  He was silent for a minute as he stared at the tombs. I snuck a quick glance at his handsome profile and saw that the happiness that had lit up his face had been replaced by an expression of hopeless gloom and tragedy. His head hung low and the corners of his lips drooped like those of a sad circus clown.

  I cautiously placed my puny hand under his chin and lifted it up so that our eyes met. “I’m listening.”

  His hazel eyes sparkled and he gave me a dazzling smile before he started his story. “It was all rather theatrical and scandalous. You see, I was born at a time and place where people were confused by me. I loved the color purple, drinking white rum while dancing naked in the rain, saying exactly what was in my heart, healing the sick with my herbs, and making love. Making lots of love.” He winked at me a in a provocative manner.

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

  He continued. “Sadly, people found my particular lifestyle rather inappropriate. I made them uncomfortable and I got under their skin. I was happy, and my happiness confused them. Eventually, they started to fear me, and then that fear transformed into loathing and outright hatred. They were determined to change and rearrange me into what they wanted me to be.”

  I nodded in understanding. “I can relate to that. The people who killed you were the ones that told you that your personality seriously got on their nerves? They wanted you to be a Gary Stu, didn’t they?”

  “OH YES!!! YES!!! The Gary Stus and Mary Sues those people were the ones who killed me… Sigh oh sigh. When I refused to be who they wanted me to be they decided to take matters into their own hands. At the tender age of seventeen, they placed my body on the wheel, stretched out my limbs, and broke my bones one by one. Crack. Crack. Crack. It was oh so very painful and tragic. I distinctly remember how after every crack the crowd cheered as if it were some sort of barbaric sporting event.” He let out a gigantic puff of smoke from his cigar. “Sporting events. For the life of me I’ll never understand those things.”

  By body stiffened at the very thought of someone’s bones being cracked one by one. Who was capable of inflicting such cruelty on another person? “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. No one deserves to die like that. Some people can be cruel, hateful, and devoid of compassion because they don’t know any better. Maybe it’s their own insecurities and fears that make them that way. Sadly, they can’t appreciate differences, so they try to exterminate and alienate them. Those people who killed you, they were the ones who needed to change, not you… I think you’re perfect just the way you are,” I added shyly but with conviction.

  His fringe of thick eyelashes fluttered for a few seconds as if he were fighting back tears. “I know! I know! Take a look at me! No, really! Take a good look at me!” he exclaimed suddenly, as he grabbed my hand and twirled me around and around. He pulled me close to his chest and I felt myself unwillingly blush. He was spectacular. Was I actually developing a crush on a spirit? Oh Lord. “Now I can help other souls that die young and unexpectedly. You don’t make me sneeze as much as other humans do. How can I help you?”

  “I…”

  “I know. Let’s discuss it over dinner. I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. Are you hungry?”

  “No…” I lied, forgetting about his peculiar allergy.

  He sneezed multiple times. “Lies. All lies. Dinner it is then?” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards a clearing located in the middle of the graveyard.

  I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. Lucus, where art thou? Please be okay. The world needs more people like you… I need you…

  Chapter Three

  Delusions and Illusions

  Ghede Nibo placed his rum bottle on the ground and clapped his hands in a dramatic fashion, which prompted the tombs around us to shake, rattle and topple over. Hordes of gorgeous young men and women climbed out of the graves. There must have been hundreds of them.

  What an ethereal and haunting sight the women were, with their matching black silk dresses embroidered with purple lace and delicate clusters of pearls. Their shiny waist-length hair glistened under the moonlight, and their swanlike necks moved elegantly against the wine-colored sky. They moved with such effortless grace that it seemed as if they were gliding above the muddy earth rather than walking on it.

  Each woman was accompanied by an equally stunning man. The men held their heads up high and proudly showed off their black velvet riding coats, crisp purple shirts and elegant top hats as they guided the women to a long table that had been laid out in the middle of the graveyard.

  I looked down at myself and realized that I was dressed exactly as they were. The fine silk fabric felt wonderfully soft and breezy against my skin, providing a welcome relief from the oppressive summer heat. My feet were no longer bare, but were clad in delicate silver slippers encrusted with fine rubies and tiny diamonds. What the hell was going on?

  “What’s going on?” I turned to Ghede Nibo for an explanation. “You said you’d help me. Who are these people? Why am I dressed like they are?”

  He responded to my neurotic questions with a big smile and took my hand into his. “Let’s eat,” he said, as he led me towards the table.

  The men and women gathered around the table while low flames from thick purple candles further illuminated their otherworldly beauty. I was struck by t
he fact that most of them were around my age. “Are these the ones who died young and unexpectedly?” I whispered.

  He nodded. “Sit. Sit.” He pulled back a chair for me. Reluctantly, I sat down and scanned the table for Lucus. Where was he? He should have been there. Despite my forced optimism and resolve to remain positive, there was a strange sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me I had lost him forever, but I wasn’t ready to accept that fact.

  Ghede Nibo clapped his hands and a feast consisting of spicy stewed black goat, roasted black rooster, fried coconuts, fried plantains, smoked herrings, and spicy white rum manifested itself onto the table. It wasn’t exactly my dream dinner menu, but if memory served me correctly they were his favorite foods, and who was I to argue with Brother Death over food?

  “Eat. Eat.” Ghede Nibo shoved a steaming bowl of stewed goat and a glass of spicy rum in front of me.

  I eyed it warily, unable to bring myself to taste it.

  “If you want my help you’ll be polite,” Ghede Nibo said, as he sat down beside me.

  I glanced around the table and saw all the beautiful faces watching me in grotesque expectation and outright curiosity. I didn’t really have a choice, did I? I dug into the stew, all the while holding my breath. Without hesitation I stuffed the stew down my throat and then turned to Ghede Nibo. “Delicious. Now can you help me?”

  The guests started to laugh at my question. I scowled at them and they averted their eyes and started to whisper amongst themselves. What was their problem?

  Ghede Nibo sneezed. “No you have to try the fried plantains.”

  “Fine.” I muttered through clenched teeth, as I took a plantain from a dish.

  After I finished the plantain Ghede Nibo shoved a plateful of smoked herring in front of me.

  On and on the night went. Every time I would finish a dish Ghede Nibo would insist that I had to eat another, then another and another. I felt my stomach rapidly expanding and my body getting sluggish and heavy. Around me, the faces blurred, their laughter becoming almost deafening as they watched me eat dish after dish and drink glass after glass of rum.

  The low beat of drums started to play in the background and the beautiful dinner guests rose from the table and linked arms. An unwelcome fog descended upon us and the guests started to move in a fierce and unrestrained manner. The drum beats got louder and louder and the dancers began to move faster and faster. Their faces glistened under the moonlight; any sadness they had carried had been eradicated and replaced with rapture and incomparable joy. Soon they were moving so fast that they were no more than swirls of purple and black. My head became heavy and a thick veil of confusion took hold of me. It all seemed so familiar, yet so very foreign. The dancing. The drums… The drums… They were trying to tell me something.

  The drumbeat resonated with some deep part of me that I had willingly buried. I got up and the circle openly welcomed me into its fold. My body and soul became one with theirs as I joined their intoxicating dance. Round and round we spun, stomping our feet and gyrating our hips to the sound of the drums. I was fearless, carefree, and for the first time in a long time allowed myself to laugh without restraint.

  “Marvelous! Simply marvelous!” Ghede Nibo cried out in childish delight, as he watched me dance.

  “Please,” I begged, suddenly snapping out of the trance and remembering Lucus. I removed myself from the group and made my way back to Ghede Nibo. “Please will you help me now?”

  “You want to know more about the one who died unexpectedly? Don’t you?” he asked, as he leaned in towards me and tilted my head up from its low position. “They’re the key, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” I instantly perked up at his words and forced myself to get a grip.

  “Look at the dancers. Look at them carefully. Do you see the one who died young and unexpectedly?”

  I shook my head in confusion as I studied the group of dancers. I was pretty sure Lucus wasn’t in the group.

  “No. I don’t see him,” I said with certainty and conviction. “Please, I want him back. I love him. He didn’t deserve to die.” I mentally scolded myself for sounding like a sappy love-struck Voodoo Queen.

  “Him?” Ghede Nibo laughed loudly as he clapped his hands.

  I crossed my arms and openly scowled at him.

  Noting my severe expression, he stopped laughing and his pretty hazel eyes looked at me with sincerity and pity. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “I need him back, please. He reminded me that there’s still goodness in this world. There hasn’t been much joy in my life up until now…” I admitted my voice barely above a whisper. I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t going to cry. I couldn’t cry.

  Ghede Nibo shook his head, took me by my hand and pulled me away from the table. We walked in silence for a few minutes. I eyed him intently, hoping that he would speak already. Was he going to help me or not? He took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was low and miserable as if all of the life had been sucked out of him. “Arelia, you understand that spirits can only help those who want to be helped?” He turned to face me and for the first time I didn’t see merely a spirit, I saw a young mortal full of conflict and weaknesses. A mortal who had experienced unspeakable cruelty and horrors.

  I nodded. “Yes. I know. Trust me. I’ve been lectured enough.”

  “I can only show you what you want to see.”

  “I know!” I caught myself getting frustrated and took a deep breath. “I want to see him.”

  He sighed deeply and took a large drag from his cigar. “Very well. I’ll see you when you come to your senses.”

  He clapped and the ground started to move. I saw a hand slowly emerge from the unmarked grave where Lucus’ body rested. I watched in morbid fascination as it slowly fought its way to the surface, tossing aside the earth that stood it its path. I recognized that hand, with its long and graceful fingers. I ran over to the spot and watched impatiently, pleadingly, as another hand emerged and then finally as the body showed itself. Pure ecstasy washed over me the second I saw his mud-streaked face with its perfectly sculptured cheekbones and full lips. The yellow moon bathed him in soft light, which made it seem as if he were an ethereal being floating its way out of the mucky earth.

  “Lucus!” I screamed.

  Wild tears streamed down my face as his head turned and his eyes met mine. But wait. There was something missing. This wasn’t my Lucus. There wasn’t any life behind his dark eyes. His eyes were narrow, tense pools of misery and anger. His expression reminded me of Ivan. Not Louis, but Ivan.

  I glanced around me and saw that Ghede Nibo and the dancers had disappeared and had left me alone with Lucus.

  “Arelia,” he said dryly, as he dusted the mud off of his signature white t-shirt. “How nice to see you. You disgust me.”

  Chapter Four

  Like a Prisoner with the Cool Iron Bars

  I was frozen, unsure of what I had heard. Cautiously, I walked closer to Lucus and reached out to touch his hand.

  “Lucus? Are you okay?” Was he suffering from some kind of post-traumatic disorder? Selective amnesia? No. That would have been too soap opera-ish. How could I disgust him all of a sudden? I searched his handsome face for a hint of the kind, sweet man I had known, but I couldn’t find any trace of the old Lucus. The hope behind his eyes was replaced by an intense fire, and the seemingly eternal smile on his lips was now a threatening smirk, devoid of any compassion.

  He freed his hand from mine and positioned himself against a nearby oak. That tiny gesture was enough to tell me that he was no longer my Lucus, and I wished for nothing more than to be pulled out of this horrific illusion, this all-consuming nightmare that was my life.

  The sound of the wind rustling through the tree leaves became screechy, thin and ghostly. It sang a strange lament.

  Silly, Arelia, you’ve been warned

  You’ve been warned to listen for the music

  Silly, silly, run, run, run away fro
m this monster

  He’s a monster

  The monster of your illusions and fears…

  Stubbornly I took several steps towards him, longing to feel his warmth, desperate to run my fingers through his hair, sniff him and above all to convince him that I hadn’t meant to harm him.

  “I didn’t know that I would have to sacrifice you. I didn’t know, but it’s okay now. You’re okay. I’ve missed you so much. The world went dark after I kissed you good-bye. All the goodness disappeared. All the light… We can get through this together. That’s what you said, remember?” My voice started to tremble with all the emotion I had kept penned up inside. How long had it been? I wasn’t sure.

  He stood silent, achingly beautiful and completely untouched by my plea. For moments he watched me as if it were the first time he was actually seeing me. I mentally begged him to say something, anything. When he remained quiet it suddenly dawned upon me that he was joking. It was all a big joke. Of course it was! It had to be. After all, this was Lucus. The same Lucus who had let me stab him, scream at him, and the list went on and on. For moments we stood there eyeing one another until finally he extended his hand invitingly. Unable to contain my enthusiasm I reached out for it and allowed him to pull me close. My body effortlessly melted into his and I let out a giant sigh of relief. I relished his intoxicating smell, the temperature of his body and strength of his embrace. I let my tears flow freely, not caring how puffy it would make my face afterwards.

  He gently nuzzled my neck and stroked my lower back. His lips brushed against my left ear and my knees immediately weakened. All the emptiness, confusion and bitterness I had felt was replaced by pure, innocent happiness.

  “You’ve missed me, have you?” he asked.

  I didn’t want to hold back how I felt any longer. I had already wasted too much time with my indecisiveness and mindless paranoia. “Yes,” I whispered.