Dead Twin Sister

by Jack Wallen

  I stood alone before a gleaming, full-length mirror. I stared deep into the black pits of my own eyes, so familiar, while at the same time so foreign. I reached a hand toward the reflection, only the other me remained perfectly still.

  The mirror image floated from the floor, just far enough so that gravity seemed to no longer apply; the dreamscape Grog’s hair lifted gently from her shoulders; as she opened her mouth to speak, the looking glass vibrated hard enough to bounce frame from wall.

  “Sister,” mirror me whispered, her voice raspy and forced. “Make me whole again.”

  Out of some form of morbid curiosity, I replied, “I am not broken.”

  The phantom image reached out, breaking all known laws of physics in stretching the glass of the mirror until her bony finger nearly touched down on my chest. “Bring the sunset back to me.” My demonic twin spoke from the other side of the glass.

  Just then, the mirror shattered into countless pieces. The shining shards glistened in the pale moonlight as they slowed to a stop in midair. Within each fragment of glass, the image of my twin gazed upon me, her eyes both damning and pleading. With a single blink, the other me sent every razor-sharp fragment of glass into my body. A thousand tiny cuts should have taken me down; and yet I remained standing, unharmed and unfazed.

  The shock of the moment sent me spiraling out of the dream to crash back into reality; my chest heaved, my lungs tugging desperately for air. I nearly called out for Drew, but thought better so he could sleep through the night without concerning himself with the madness that had come out to play with my sanity.

  I wasn’t fragile.

  Was I broken?

  “Thessia,” I whispered. Without thinking, my hands formed the Garuda mudra. “Find me,” I called out to Thessia again. The mudra’s purpose was to help connect me to the spirit world. Something within me needed protection. I didn’t want to think myself weak, but the human spirit, when allowed, would guide the body and soul in profound and miraculous ways.

  A faint light radiated from between the palms of my hands and my torso. The Garuda was working.

  “Sister,” the voice from the dream called out. I immediately pulled my hands apart to break the spell.

  “Shit.” I slipped under the covers and pulled them to my chin. This was one of those moments I’d be happy to give myself permission to regress to childhood and hide under my bed. Unfortunately, that would mean slipping out from under the blankets and sheets, only to be vulnerable to whatever it was trying to cross over from…

  I did not want to either say it or think it. That chapter in my life was over, and it would never haunt me again.

  “Sister.” The voice returned. I hadn’t realized it, but my eyes were shut tight against whatever horror awaited me in the dark. When I finally opened them, the spectral twin floated above me, glaring down with pitch-black eyes. “Sing with me.”

  Before I could complain, the ghost began singing a dirge-like rendition of one of the songs we’d yet to record. “The world really ended. Now we are ghosts, haunting the places we surrendered our hope.”

  I couldn’t help but sing along with my dead twin sister. Together, our morbid take on ‘No More Stars’ filled me with enough sorrow to shatter the glass of my heart.

  “Is this an angel taking my hand, leading me through an annihilated land? Can’t you see there are no more stars in the sky? Don’t you know they flicker after they die? Are we in limbo making amends for killing and fighting, for failing our friends?”

  Slowly, the spirit lowered itself until it hovered mere inches from my body; the look on its face was sweet and serene. “Kiss me while the color drains from your eyes,” the spirit whispered, as its form melted into me. There was no fight, no danse macabre to send me spinning in the air like a woman possessed. In fact, there was a strange peace I hadn’t felt in such a long time.

  Together, we drifted into the realm of slumber—void of darkness and nightmare; of fear and transgression.

  FOUR

  Are we in limbo making amends

  for killing and fighting, for failing our friends?

  I sat at the breakfast table, across from Drew, sipping on the blackest coffee I could conjure from the French press. When I woke, it felt as if a year’s worth of sleep had been packed into a single night. The mirror, however, told a very different story.

  “You look like shit, darling,” Drew said with a wink. “Did you have a night on the town without inviting me? Would you dare break my heart ever so?” Another wink.

  “Quite the opposite, dahling,” I said with a measure of snark. “I did not leave the bed once. Even though I slept through the night, I feel like the Devil himself made a playground of my body.”

  “Sexy,” Drew started.

  “Not in the good way.”

  “Unsexy,” Drew recanted.

  I had to quickly change the subject. “What’s on the schedule today?”

  Drew stabbed a forkful of egg, shoved it in his mouth, and spoke around the bite. “No More Stars.”

  The title punched me in the chest to send me spiraling into some dissociative void.

  “Grog?” Drew’s voice tugged me back from nowhere land. “What’s going on with you? Should I be concerned?”

  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!

  Was what I wanted to say, wanted to scream out at the top of my lungs. And yet, something within me prevented the cry for help. Instead, I smiled, patted Drew on the cheek, and said with a measure of calm, “I’m good.”

  “Right then, we really need to be off. Don’t want to be late for another day of making glorious noise.” And with that, Drew filled a thermos with coffee and slipped out of the kitchen.

  Grudgingly, I followed. The lack of motivation to record was foreign to me. What should have been an event to relish and celebrate filled me with a strange dread—one I could not, in any way, share.

  “You coming?” Drew bellowed from the other room.

  “Impatient much?”

  ***

  The drive to the studio was filled with rage-inducing, bumper-to-bumper traffic and plenty of laughs, thanks to Drew and his wry sense of humor. The guitarist’s wit never ceased to amaze me; how he always managed to pull me from the darkest funk was truly a gift. Only this time, there was no funk to be found. Everything was glorious—or so it should be. Life was moving along splendidly, and yet…

  Why did there always seem to be an and yet? This time around, that bit of trickery couldn’t be pinpointed; even though I knew it resided somewhere inside. Within me, a spirit stirred.

  Sister, the word whispered from within the folds of my brain. I could feel my fingers curling into fists, wanting badly to form a protective mudra.

  “You know how we’ve been a part of each other’s lives longer than we haven’t?” Drew asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  Drew continued. “That depth of connection gives me insights into what makes Grog tick. Right now, your tick is off. Besides, I want to know what gives.”

  I met his question with silence.

  “Come on, Grog. We don’t keep secrets from one another. You and I have been through way too much for that level of rubbish. So … ’fess up, sis.”

  Why did he have to use that term of endearment? Drew was, however, right. The longer I retained this secret, the harder it would be to explain away—should it even come to that. And so, I opted for confession.

  “I think something might have followed me out of The Dark Seduction,” I said in a morbid monotone.

  Drew slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a head-snapping stop. “What? When did you know about this, and why are you only now telling me?”

  “Because I wasn’t certain if it was real or just some form of post-traumatic stress from … you know.”

  At the near mention of The Seduction, Drew lost his head of steam and patted me on the knee. “You know I’m here for you Grog. There’s no need to hide anything.”

  A honk from behind rem
inded us we were stopped on the street. Drew released his foot from the brake and drove on. “Can you tell me what it is you may have brought back?” There was the slightest hint of doubt in Drew’s voice.

  “Initially I thought it was Thessia calling for help. Now I’m not so certain it had anything to do with her.”

  Drew nodded slowly. Had it been any other person, an undercurrent of patronization would have followed the motion; with me, Drew wasn’t capable of such things. “Now that you’re not sure, what would you say it was?”

  “A ghost,” I said simply.

  Drew grinned. “Are we talking Casper the Friendly Ghost or the librarian in Ghostbusters?”

  That was the question of the century—one I couldn’t answer with even a modicum of certainty. “The jury is still out on that.”

  “Grog—”

  Before Drew could wind up into a full-on panic attack, I stopped him short. “It’s nothing to worry about. At least … not yet.”

  “Bloody hell. What do you mean by that? Very little good ever followed the phrase ‘not yet,’” Drew snapped as he pulled into one of the studio’s parking lots.

  “I mean, my dear, there’s nothing to worry about at the moment. I promise you, should I feel otherwise, I’ll let you know the second I do. You don’t see my head spinning right ’round, with me spewing pea soup, do you?”

  Drew undid his seatbelt and turned to face me; he bore his gaze deeply into mine and did not blink for a Lechter-ish long time. “If there’s something in there,” Drew tapped lightly on the side of my head, “you might want to warn whatever it is I will beat the bitch back to that dread-dimension with my bare fists. No one fucks with my Grog. No one.” Drew’s voice rose a few decibels. “You hear that, spooky? I will take you down and out. I have no fucks left to give when it comes to the spirit realm.” Drew punctuated his mini rager with a wink and a smile.

  I leaned in and planted a kiss on Drew’s cheek before opening the car door. “Let’s rock.”

  “You had me at let’s.” Drew’s mood instantly shifted as he grabbed the coffee thermos and made his exit from the vehicle.

  Back inside the studio, a soothing calm blanketed every square inch of every room. No therapy session could bring me this peace; no drug could give me this high. Although the sensation was a different beast to that of performing live, this was all about giving life to our new creation; preparing it so the world would get a taste of the next iteration of Die So Fluid.

  There was little that could touch the feeling of creation. Like Frankenstein working his mad science while Mozart jammed in the background.

  We were met in the waiting room by Bella and Dizzy; the second they spotted us, their faces lit up. Dizzy immediately grabbed his camera and pointed in my direction.

  “Oh, luv, that is so unfair. Have you not learned to never point a camera in a woman’s face who had only just dragged herself out of bed?”

  Drew nodded. “You live a very dangerous life, Dizz.”

  Dizzy lowered the camera. I tossed caution to the wind and planted a kiss on the young man’s cheek. “I’m just fucking with you, mate. This girl is not afraid to be seen without her mask. Film on.”

  The camera met me, head on, once again. This time around, Bella was quick on her feet with a few direct questions.

  “What can you tell us about this new album, Grog?”

  This was one of those moments when I could have rattled off the practiced spiel about the new material; but that felt wrong. I pulled in a deep breath and let my heart speak. “This album is about surviving—not just living day to day, but surviving the never-ending depths of the human condition. Drew and I have, quite literally, been dragged to Hell and back and managed to continue on, all the while leaving behind one of our dearest friends.”

  From deep inside me, the voice returned. Tell them the truth.

  Bella silenced the voice when she said, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Grog.”

  I nodded. “Sorry, sorry. Yeah, I get a bit verklempt when I think about it. Ya know, losing someone you love so suddenly is a pain that never leaves. The memories of the last year drove Drew and me to write the songs we’re now recording; songs that might well be our most personal yet.”

  Drew stepped in to save me. “And you’re about to get a taste. That’s right, my lovelies … we’re going to take you into the studio so you can watch me lay down my track for ‘No More Stars.’ Heads up, I do all of my recording completely naked.”

  Bella’s eyes nearly jettisoned from their sockets.

  “Just fucking with you. I shred fully clothed.”

  While Drew charmed the pants off the camera, I withdrew from the frame to breathe. The spirit roiled inside of me, growing more restless with every passing moment. You won’t win, I thought.

  You cannot stop me, sister.

  Try me, I dared to answer.

  “Ready, Peepers?” Drew’s sweet face interrupted the internal dialogue with my twin. I had to suppress the idea that I was slowly losing my shit.

  “This session is all about you, darling.”

  “You know I can’t steal your thunder,” Drew said with a crooked smile. “I’ll do my best though.”

  “I expect no less.” I pointed toward the studio. “Now get your ass in that room and show us how you do what you do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Drew offered a comical, Benny Hill-esque, salute, complete with crossed eyes, and made his exit toward the control booth.

  I turned back to Bella and Dizzy. For a split second, the spirit bubbled upward; as it did, I was overcome with the urge to rip the camera from the young man’s grasp and slam it into his beautiful face. Instead, I smiled and walked away. With each step, my fingernails dug deeper into the palms of my hands until a warm rivulet of blood collected in my fists.

  Your suffering is delicious, sister.

  “Stop calling me that!” I shouted, immediately realizing my faux pas. There was no way I could gracefully pull myself from this tragic little misstep; instead, I continued on toward the control room. I could practically feel the stares of Bella and Dizzy boring into my back until I’d vanished from their sight.

  Drew had already set himself up in the live room and was mid-practice. Tony immediately handed me a pair of headphones so I could give a listen at what my Die So Fluid other half was laying down. My head instinctively bobbed to Drew’s masterful tempo; every note was flawless. Drew’s playing was a perfect storm of mechanics and expression. The man certainly had a gift … one the world needed badly.

  The entire time I was focused on Drew, the ghost remained dormant—such a welcome respite from the spiraling chaos in my head. Or maybe she was gone for good. It wasn’t beyond the realm of the possible that the entire thing was nothing more than mental and physical exhaustion. Recording never failed to take its toll on me. Working on an album after nearly having my soul sucked away in a dark dimension was a level of beat down I hoped to never experience again. That my dead twin sister had gone silent could be just the sign I needed.

  Drew completed the take and, once cleared, everyone applauded the man. From the other side of the glass, Drew nodded with a smile. He had to know what he’d just recorded was brilliant. Anyone with even a cursory knowledge of music would understand what they’d just heard was something special.

  The door to the control room opened. The second the man of the moment entered, I launched myself his way and engulfed him with my tightest bear hug. “You were fucking spectacular in there.”

  “Felt pretty damn good, yeah. I was a bit worried about the second verse—it can get a bit tricky—but I think I nailed it.”

  “Piss off. You know you nailed it.”

  After a brief bout of coyness, Drew finally capitulated. With a quick nod, he said, “You’re right. I did nail it.”

  I mussed up Drew’s perfectly coiffed mohawk. “That’s my boy.”

  Drew attempted to dodge my hand to save his coif. “Guess whose turn it is now?
”

  The question knocked the wind from my sails. Between the nightmares and the voices, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to allow the vulnerability brought about by singing. The second the music began to spill from my lips, my defenses would be down. I would be ripe for the attacking—be it from the inside or out.

  Before Drew had the chance to question me further, I nodded and made my way to the vocal booth. This was not the time to show weakness. Whatever it was within me could not peer through the cracks in my armor.

  In a quick minute, I had everything situated and was ready to start the process of laying down my track. Both Dizzy and Bella had set up shop as well, the glass of the camera’s lens already reflecting the studio light into my eyes. Bella and I exchanged warm glances.

  “Any last words?” Bella asked with a tilted head.

  “I regret that I have but one life to lose for my fans.” I had no idea why the Nathan Hale quote escaped my lips; but in the saying, a certain regret tripped over my heart. I’d already given one life to Vau-eal; I would not hand over another to one of his minions.

  Should she be such.

  I turned to the window to catch Tony patiently waiting for my sign. After a quick nod, the click track kicked in to announce go time.

  I sang.

  “The world really ended. Now we are ghosts, haunting the places we surrendered our hope. Is this an angel taking my hand, leading me through an annihilated land? Can’t you see there are no more stars in the sky? Don’t you know they flicker after they die? Are we in limbo making amends for killing and fighting, for failing our friends?”

  From deep within me, a rage boiled. I couldn’t be certain if the emotion derived from my muse or the stowaway spirit; either way, I fed on its flame and continued belting the tune.

  “Can’t you see there are no more stars in the sky? Don’t you know they flicker after they die? And here they worship the sacred self, they don’t if it’s heaven or hell; they think that they’re alive and well.”