by Kayes, Greg
Henrietta closed her eyes as the world went electric. She felt ghostly and light, even more so than normal. A nice thick sweet sent hung in the air all around her and made her feel soft. It was so thick and tangible it felt like a soft ethereal blanket on her gentle ghostly skin.
When Henrietta awoke she was still in the small cot. She looked closely at the wood to see it was covered in beautiful etched carvings. Over on some other bed next to hers was the man she had been following, laying unconscious and covered in bandages. She then tried to get up and found that it was a little difficult. After the third try she managed to sit up and get to her feet. A noise from downstairs made her float through the floor to find the old lady sitting at a table drinking some tea.
"Good afternoon. I see you slept well, care for some tea?"
"I'm dead. We don't really eat."
"Smart as ever I see. Well I can safely assume you haven't spent much time in Thailand. They build these spirit houses and place food and drink out for spirits all the time.”
Henrietta looked blankly at Mist mainly out of bewilderment.
“Come over and have a cup anyways. It'll make you feel better."
Henrietta reluctantly came over and sat down at the table. Mist poured her a cup and sat it down in front of her.
Henrietta just stared at the cup on the table for a minute before giving Mist a questioning look.
"How do I...?" Henrietta said confused
"Just enjoy it. You're made of the same stuff as that tea."
"How does that work? Is it ghost tea?"
"All tea is ghost tea, or rather it can be. Trust your instincts. You didn't need lessons on how to eat when you had a corporal body. This body is a lot like your last. Just...different."
Still confused Henrietta leaned over her cup and sniffed the tea. It was sweet and bitter. She wasn't much of a tea person when she was alive and wouldn't know what good tea would have been like. But sitting here smelling this tea in front of her made her wish she had tried more tea when she was alive.
A crash from upstairs made the tea cup jangle. Henrietta sighed at what she assumed was the man getting out of bed and absentmindedly leaned in and took a sip of the steam. Surprised by her actions she sat bolt up as she tried to process the sensation. The experience was disturbing yet...intriguing. For starters it didn't involve her mouth at all.
"How do you like it?" Mist asked
Henrietta stared down at the steaming tea in her cup for a bit longer before looking up at Mist.
"I'm bored." Henrietta said flatly
"Well I didn't think it was all that bad-" Mist began to say before she noticed Henrietta's expression. If ghosts could cry that's what it would have looked like. Mist calmly closed her mouth in mid sentence and turned her seat as she politely crossed her arms on the table and sat waiting patiently.
"I...Just didn't realize." Henrietta stuttered "I...it really is good. The tea I mean. Thank you."
Mist quietly held her relaxed patient gaze.
"I hadn't had anything to eat in so long." Henrietta said looking back down at her cup. "...If you can call that eating."
An explosion of noise that sounded like an elephant falling down the stairs onto a flock of geese broke Henrietta's awkward bewilderment. The man had fallen down the stairs and was getting up when Mist drew, cocked, and aimed her shotgun at the man with lightning speed. The man hesitated halfway to standing as his gaze met with the barrel staring him down. Heavy tension filled the air between the two of them while Henrietta stared at the spectacle speechless.
“There is bread and water at the end of the table for you.” Mist eventually said without flinching her rock steady aim for a second.
Slowly the man carefully stood up and limped his way over to the end of the table where he struggled to pull out a chair with a groan and sat down, all while Mist's aim stayed Locked on him. He then picked up a crust of bread and feebly started to raise it to take a bite when Mist interrupted him.
"You best be making an offering of some of that bread to your guardian angel sitting there if you know what's good for you." Mist commanded
The man looked up at Mist through his blood shot eyes and bandages wrapped loosely around his head.
“I don't care if you think me crazy or not but if it wasn't for her you'd be just another dead husk full of more holes than you have already, drying out in the sun. She's as close to a prayer as you're gonna get out here so play it nice. Just a piece will do.”
With the reluctance of a hungry man disoriented from injury and fatigue, the man broke off a piece of bread and placed it next to the tea cup that Mist indicated with her eyes.
"Good. Now eat up, and then go back up stairs if you can. Rest is what you need right now and you are useless to me and you without it. Are we clear?"
The man painfully grunted a nod. He ate his bread and water before straining himself to stand up and slowly limped his way back up stairs. As soon as the man was out of sight a crash of pans erupted from upstairs followed by the sound of a rubber duck squeaking.
"I don't understand it." Mist said to herself as she lowered her shotgun "All the pans are in the kitchen and I don't even own a rubber duck."
"What was that all about?" Henrietta asked "I can't eat bread."
"You didn't know you could drink tea a minute ago. Besides, I wanted him to learn some manners in my house."
"Why are you doing all this to him or for me for that matter?"
"Because." Mist said in a matter of fact
"...because?"
"Just, because."
Henrietta sat awkwardly silent for a moment
"Who are you?"
"I'm Mist dear. I already introduced myself. Now come along, I could use some help in the garden."
Henrietta laughed "What could I help you with?"
"You're bored right? Come along."
Henrietta shrugged and followed Mist outside to a nice sized lush garden.
"So what do you need me to do?" Henrietta said
"Why don't you go and explore for a bit."
"But you said-"
"-I know I did." Mist interrupted calmly "But you should take some time to look around. I'll be here pulling some weeds."
At a loss for words Henrietta stood there as she watched Mist put on an apron and got down on her knees at the start of a row of vegetables.
"Go on. Watching an old woman pulling weeds isn't going to cure your boredom."
Hesitantly Henrietta started to wander around the garden. She couldn't remember the last time she was in a real garden. Most of her life was spent in one city or another. You could see people trying to grow a plant or two on their windowsill, and you knew someone was growing some pot somewhere, but there was never enough room for a real garden like this, not even the community garden looked like this and with good reason. This was a garden you had to survive on.
It started to dawn on Henrietta that this woman who can talk to ghosts like they were people didn’t get very much company out here in the way of the living.
That must make it really hard to get supplies. I wonder how long she has lived out here like this.
Eventually Henrietta explored her way through the whole garden, it wasn't exactly large. The garden was actually pretty methodical in its layout. It was as if Mist was trying to minimize the effort it took to care for it. She didn't exactly know how she knew that, it just felt...obvious.
When Henrietta finished looking at some watermelons she headed back to Mist who was tending to some string beans.
"Seen everything already have you." Mist said looking up from her work
"I think so."
"Anything stand out?"
"No, not really."
"Really? Well that's ok. Anything else you want to look at?"
"Is there anything else to see?"
"Always."
The way Mist says always made Henrietta take a step back. It wasn't said maliciously or anything, it just did something to her ghost brain.
"Go on. You've stared at zombies wander aimlessly around all day and eviscerate survivors. Go and watch something else for a change."
Mist was right and Henrietta felt a bit lighter after hearing it. With a weird sensation of confidence she left Mist and ventured out into the woods.
"So, what are we suppose to do now?!" Said a ghost in the middle of a congregation "Most of our bodies are burnt to ash and the ones who still have em are scattering out of the city!"
"Were fallen!" Said another ghost verging on hysteria "Fallen ghosts! We all know what happens to those who fall!”
“I heard someone say its worst than being single without the cats!”
"Calm down!" Another ghost started "We're not fallen as long as we are together."
"But she's right." Another said "We are fallen. Where will we get our stories now? Who will talk to us? What world is this without watching our corpses fight survivors?"
"I Don't Know!!" The other ghost said abruptly making the congregation float a startled step back. This at least made all the bickering momentarily stop. Even he was startled silent by his own voice. None of the city ghosts had ever seen another ghost lose their temper before. There was never a reason to get mad before aside from getting cheated on a story trade but that seemed to work itself out in its own way. The last ghost was right though. What was their world without the zombie vs. survivor fights?
"I suggest we stay put for now." He said after recovering from shock "It's what we are supposed to do when we lose our corpse after all and being in this big group will help others find us."
"How will anyone find us when they are probably sitting still like us?"
"Shut up!" He shouted as the audience gasped "Staying put is the best way to not get everyone more lost than we already are. We may be fallen but we don’t have to act like it! Let’s just stick together and figure something out.”
"I don't understand...but I’m not the Story Master." Another ghost said
"That’s right. And don’t you forget it." said Story Master Mike
The forest was calmly buzzing with noise as Henrietta made her way along a path between the thriving lush plant life. Mist had talked her into going out and so far she wasn’t enjoying it one bit.
"So then I said to her-" Story Master Mike said
"We already heard that one already." A ghost whined
"Have you?" Story Master Mike said
A sea faces nodded as the congregation of ghosts sat like children in the burning rubble of this hellscape.
"Really? I don't usually tell that one. It's one of my best stories."
"You told it twenty minutes ago." The whiney ghost said
"Oh...Then...did you hear the one about the bacon accident and the trapeze artist?"
At a river Henrietta sat on a rock as she watched a deer drink while the sunlight fluttered through the leaves playfully dancing on the ripples of water. The world around her was a sea of tranquil peace. In short, she was totally bored out of her mind.
"-and so the doctor said that he could remove it but he wouldn't be able to sit down for a week."
"You told us that one too, before the other." A ghost interrupted
"Well then...I don't know...maybe someone else should have a go while I remember another story."
"We already have taken our turns. Come on, we're paid up in full for another story form the Story Master."
S.M. Mike was rubbing his ghostly chin in thought. It began to dawn on him that he was best at the quick stories that could be told before the other ghosts corpse wandered away. He took no pride in telling long captivating stories that made another ghost lose their corpse, how else would the word continue to get around about how good a story teller he was. But now here was a potentially permanent audience and he was beginning to run out of material and that made him feel really frustrated. He had to change his game if he was going to stay on top. He liked his title, he liked being someone important, and Hells be damned[8] if he was going to lose it just like that.
"Well then..." S.M. Mike started "...have I told you about the time...I became an identity thief?"
Henrietta just couldn't get it. What was there to look at out here if there wasn't a struggle of survival to watch? There was so much passion...and drama, in watching the survivors fend off the dead simply for the sake of living just a little bit longer. Sure a few ghosts fell in the process of the raids but the ones that survived head on…well they had the best stories.
It was so addicting trying to hear about all the different vantage points to fill in all the gaps to just one event but...Mist was right. It was a Hell of a brutal thing to take pride and be entertained in the violent fragile survival of the few living people that remained. It was like watching animal cruelty videos on the internet strictly out of boredom. Ok maybe not as bad as that, maybe it was more like watching gladiators fight to the death in some coliseum in Ancient Rome.
Thinking about things like they were gladiators didn’t make it sound any better but that kind of entertainment has been around a whole lot longer than she had been dead for. And on that note, she was dead! What did it matter what she did as a ghost? It's not like she had to be responsible for anything anymore or was able to do anything about...well anything. She had died a horrible gruesome death and there was nothing left for her to do but watch as others succumb to the same fate as herself.
Henrietta paused as she frustratingly exhaled a ghostly breath. Defeated. She didn't know why but she felt defeated...and tired. There was nothing left out here in these woods that she wanted to see so she got up and headed back to Mist.
"That was probably the most horrible thing I've ever heard someone ever doing in their life." Said a ghost in the front row "If you hadn't already died like the rest of us I think I'd have wished for the zombies to tear you apart."
"So...You liked it?" S.M. Mike asked
There was a hesitation in the crowd before the audience began to slowly applaud. Shortly it picked up to a torrent of cheers.
"It was hands down the best story I've heard in all my afterlife!" A random ghost volunteered.
"Especially the part where the guy got sent to jail for mugging someone because he had no money anymore." Another ghost added
"Tell us another one!" Someone in the back shouted which got some cheers from the rest of the audience.
"Come on now. We all got to pay our dues for our stories." S.M Mike said
The crowds applause died down as everyone felt crest fallen.
"I don't think I have another story that could measure up to that." Someone said followed by a few others conceding the same fact.
"Is there some other way we could pay you?"
"I don't know." S.M. Mike said a little shocked and taken aback by the notion. He couldn't think of anything that he could get from anyone else besides more stories and gossip. "I'll have to think about that."
Henrietta got back to the cottage around mid day in a huff. She found Mist still tending her garden in the back.
"What's the big idea messing with my head!" Henrietta burst out as she rapidly approached Mist.
"What's that now sweetie?" Mist said in the calm tone of a person who is paying a lot of attention to carrots.
"Don't you think I’ve had a hard enough time just being dead than to-to-to be questioned!? I was...I was happy not knowing! And then you had to go and tell me how crappy it was to watch my corpse kill everybody! Well I'm dead! I died! And I can damn well do what I like!!!"
Mist didn't move much more than what was required for weeding, and she did it silently. Henrietta stood there fuming angrier at her for how calm she was. Mist shear calmness made her feel so livid and that made her wish...so much that she could just wipe that serenity right off her face right then and there. But there it stayed. Henrietta felt helpless.
"I'm sorry." Mist said as she continued down the line pulling weeds.
Henrietta stared silently at her, waiting. "Well?"
"Well what?" Mist a
sked as she paused in her work.
"That's all? Just sorry?"
"Yes."
Henrietta stared angrily at Mist as Mist looked back at her with a peacefully kind expression. It cut Henrietta's heart like a knife, and it made her angrier that she didn't know why...Why she was this angry, why she felt angry at this kind old woman, why anything! Everything felt like burning in her ghostly body as she couldn't contain herself. She screeched at the world as birds burst out of a nearby tree while Mist stayed calmly still.
Henrietta fell to her knees wishing she had a body that was capable of crying. Mist then stood up dusting off her garden apron.
"I'll go make us a cup of tea." Mist said before she made her way inside the cottage.
Henrietta stayed on the garden ground hugging her knees for a bit before she conceded and got up to follow Mist inside.
"You want us to do what now?"
"I want you all to go out and bring me a ghost." S.M. Mike said
"I don't understand. We are all ghosts. I'll just go over to Harry and bring him over shall I?"
"I mean another one. Someone who is not in this group."
"Why?"
"I don't know...it was the only thing that came to mind that you all could do for my stories. You all wanna hear more stories don't you?"
The crowd was a sea of nods.
"Well then go and bring me another ghost."
The crowd hesitated.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just...What are you going to do with them?"
S.M. Mike paused to think for a second, which is no easy task for an entity that has a real issue with being able to making things up.
"Make them...tell us stories? We are running out of them. Each of us only have so many. And...um...there is safety? In numbers, I mean."
"What is there for us to be safe from? We're all dead."
"Getting...lost?"
If S.M. Mike could sweat he would have been from all the effort he put in from this inquire. For a ghost this was genius level creativity, even if what he said was true. Being a leader needed a certain level of creativity and S.M. Mike was suspecting that he was quickly becoming a leader. Either that or he was learning how to control everyone. But the more he tried to think about that the less he could see any difference, mainly because he needed a bit more creativity than he had to be able to see one but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone not when he had them doing what he wanted.