A Death Displaced

by Andrew Butcher

  She approached the new starter, Ashleigh, and took her to the office.

  ‘Hi Juliet, I didn’t know you were in today. I thought you were shopping.’ Ashleigh was sixteen years old, fresh out of school and wanted to get straight into work and earning money. Her bubbly attitude and sweet smile secured her the job. Juliet liked to employ positive, hard-working individuals.

  ‘My plans changed. Anyway, has Roy done your manual handling training yet?’ the prompt change of subject seemed to unnerve Ashleigh.

  ‘No he hasn’t.’

  ‘Okay, well I’ll go through it with you, and we’ll get some other training completed too.’

  ‘Okay!’ Ashleigh replied exuberantly as if the prospect of mandatory training excited her. She even did a little twirl on the spot. Juliet politely laughed.

  Ashleigh had recently moved to Chanton with her parents. They used to live in Cornwall but visited Lansin Island a lot over the years. As soon as Ashleigh had finished secondary school, she and her parents moved to Chanton.

  Juliet covered manual handling, food hygiene and fire safety training with her giddy, new employee before she retired to her office to do some paperwork.

  The sensation of disconnection was present in her still. In her office, she stared at her hands. She focused intently; she saw her hands as buzzing particles, like she wasn’t so solid after all, like her hands and arms were made of the same material as the desk that she sat at.

  A quick shake of the head returned her to the present moment.

  Then the room dropped temperature in a brief sweep. Juliet was alone. Glimmers of light shone, barely visible throughout the room; a few streaks danced and hovered, and then vanished, twitching the air.

  The desk lamp flickered on, off, on. Tension was a taste in the room; a shrill string instrument could have played a single suspenseful high note. Juliet’s skin prickled as if a spider dashed across it.

  Her heart pounded. She refused to believe what she saw and closed her eyes hard. Sounds caught her off guard, distant but also close; in the room with her, maybe footsteps.

  Her eyes opened reluctantly. A woman stared directly at her. At least, Juliet thought it was a woman. The figure wasn’t fully there. She strained to see eyes and the outline of the figure, like an aura. It was more like feeling there was a woman in the room than actually seeing her.

  Juliet was stuck to her chair, unable to move or speak. Although she couldn’t fully see it, she knew the figure was approaching her. She sensed its arm reach out. It touched her face.

  Horror stiffened Juliet’s body, but for her life, she forced out a scream.

  The room returned to normal, the lamp stopped flickering, and the temperature rose in an instant. The figure was gone, and Juliet heaved for air, her hands over her burdened heart.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Roy, the stand in manager, knocked, asked and entered simultaneously. He was alert, ready for some kind of trouble.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re fine?’ he asked, his round face incredulous, ‘The whole café heard you scream.’

  ‘I said I’m fine.’ she reasserted.

  Roy relaxed his stance; no one’s life was in danger. ‘What should I tell the team and our customers? It sounded like a bad scream; Ashleigh dropped some one’s order when she heard you. She jumped right out of her skin!’ he laughed a deep grumble, but Juliet could see he was still concerned.

  ‘Anything, Roy. Make something up. Say everything’s okay, nobody needs to panic.’

  ‘I’ll say you walked a corner with your head down at the same time Sandra came around the corner and she gave you fright? Yeah. That will do.’

  ‘Thanks, Roy, I’m going to leave soon. I shouldn’t have come in today.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Why did you come in?’

  ‘Shopping fell through, and you know me… I can’t just sit around.’

  ‘I think you need a hobby; you shouldn’t just work every minute of your life.’ he remarked, stepping on delicate ground.

  ‘I like to work. This is my café and I like being here.’ she said, it felt like a personal attack. ‘Besides, I have hobbies.’ She had her home-study course, an exercise routine, she was learning Spanish, and she volunteered at a charity shop. Do they count as hobbies?

  ‘Okay. I was concerned, that’s all. It’s easy to get burnt out when you work too much.’

  She gave Roy a prickly stare; she didn’t need her employee questioning her ability to work. There was enough on her mind (her mind that she thought she was losing after the day’s events).

  ‘Roy, get back to work.’ she said, teeth clenched.

  He nodded and offered a concerned, half-smile before he left the office. Juliet gathered her thoughts until she couldn’t stay in the room any longer. She hoped that she wouldn’t permanently fear her office; it was one of her favourite places to be, working or not.

  As she left the café, she sensed all eyes on her. She held her chin high, managed appropriate smiles, and expressed confident farewells to her employees and customers.

  That evening, she watched the local news: It covered a story on a police chase in Amiton.

  The police had followed a vehicle due to suspicious behaviour, and when they signalled the driver to pull over, he’d sped away instead. The pursued driver gained distance by cutting through Amiton upper grounds but he crashed into a business stall, flipped the car and came to a stop. It turned out that the driver was drunk, and in his intoxicated state, he panicked and thought driving through the upper grounds was a good idea. He was treated for a head wound sustained in the crash, but no major injuries.

  As Juliet eyed the television screen, she experienced bitterness towards the drunk driver. She’d had the strangest day of her life, and he was to blame.

  Chapter 3

  ‘Stop showing off your perfect white teeth!’ Janet Morgan, one of the full-timers at Creaky Crystals, playfully slapped Nick’s arm. ‘You know I want mine whitened.’

  ‘What are you on about?’ he rubbed his arm as if it hurt.

  ‘You’ve been smiling all day; you’re like a walking dental advert.’

  ‘Should I take that as a compliment…?’

  ‘Whatever floats your boat, Nick.’ she laughed to herself, ‘You’re an odd boy aren’t you? I’d have wangled the day off if I was almost hit by a car, but you’re having the best day of your life. Odd-ball.’

  He was eager to go home after saving the woman’s life, but he wanted to work his hours; or more accurately, he needed to work them.

  ‘Maybe I’m just happy the car didn’t hit me.’

  ‘Maybe you’re a strange boy...? Anyway, why were you in the upper grounds? You don’t come from that direction.’ she goggled him suspiciously.

  ‘I was just looking at the view from up there.’

  ‘Hmmm, that confirms it: you’re a weirdo.’ Janet stuck out her tongue, then dawdled off towards the jewellery section.

  Still smiling, Nick thought about the incident again. He’d given the police a statement but didn’t mention to them about the woman he saved; she’d hurried off, and he didn’t think anyone saw how she was almost killed. Telling lies to the police wasn’t a good idea and he wasn’t sure why he did it, but it was done now and he had a more interesting matter to dwell on.

  The rest of the shift dragged, but when it was finally over, he made his way home as if his life depended on it.

  There was a lot for him to mull over that night.

  Excitement oozed out of him. After having a real ‘flash-forward’ he was infused with a sense of… importance. What did it mean?

  He spent that evening thinking about it. Was it a random experience? Is it an ability I could learn to use at will? Am I different, special somehow? If so, are there others like me? No conclusions were made, but he slept easier that night; feeling like there was purpose to his life.

  That weekend, he read through books on Celtic, Classical and Norse mythology. He researched on the internet ho
w to practice psychic powers. He read about oracles, prophets, clairvoyants, seers and shamans. Some people used cards, the roll of a dice, crystal balls or other objects for divination, but he also read about others who saw the future in their dreams or through guided meditation.

  It wasn’t wise to be on the internet for too long; if he went over his limit again, he would be charged more again, so he shut down the computer.

  Half of the material he found, he had some previous knowledge of because he’d considered becoming a Wiccan before. He already kind of believed in psychic abilities and also that cheesy word: magic. But seeing was different to believing.

  He tried to meditate and get into a trance-like state to bring on another vision, but nothing happened. He had a hard time with the whole fate and destiny side to it.

  How can I see the future if it isn’t planned out? Or maybe I saw a probable future based on people’s choices? And if everyone had a destined path, then did I change that woman’s fate by saving her?

  After a while he gave up trying to force a vision; it was too easy to get carried away and act like he was in a fantasy film.

  He tidied his room in a languid and passive manner. He hadn’t corrected it after his tantrum a few days before, but he took his time and didn’t allow it to affect his easy mood.

  The detached bungalow he lived in was on Maw Street on the outskirts of Amiton. From the front door, there was a hallway that divided the house down the middle. To the front-left was the snug room where he would sit and read, watch films or play games. To the back-left was the bathroom.

  On the front-right was the living room which he rarely used as it served the same purposes as the snug. To the back-right was the bedroom. The hallway joined to the back of the house where the kitchen and back door to the garden could be found.

  His dad helped him choose the bungalow and paid a sum towards a deposit; he also assisted in paying the bills occasionally. He never asked for anything in return; maybe he felt good providing for his sons in whatever capacity he could afford, knowing that he could do it without the aid of his wife.

  When Nick first moved in, he had a full time job. Now all he could find was part time work; each month was a struggle to pay bills. He’d considered renting out the snug as a bedroom to bring in some money but he didn’t know how to approach that sort of thing. He would have to do some research.

  His bedroom was the only decorated room in the house; the rest of his home was in the state he purchased it in. There were bare walls, a few holes in places, he had minimal furniture, and there was just too much DIY to even think about.

  It was a few years ago when he moved in and it should have all been in shape by now, but it wasn’t. After his wages were spent on bills and essentials, he never had enough left over to decorate. In the end he gave up; as long as the place was liveable, then what did it matter? There was no one to impress but himself. Luckily, for entertainment, he still had some books and game consoles from when he lived with his dad and brothers.

  On Monday he received a phone call from Tom.

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘Hi, Tom.’

  ‘How have you been? You haven’t come to see us lately.’

  ‘Everything’s good. Yeah I know. I might come by next weekend.’ he capitulated; he supposed he couldn’t avoid visiting them forever.

  ‘Cool,’ Tom said, and there was a long silence.

  ‘So, any reason you called me?’ his brothers didn’t call often. They usually got their dad to relay messages.

  ‘Yeah… I wanted to talk to you about something, but not over the phone.’

  ‘Okay, well, what about the weekend when I come over?’

  ‘No, not at Dad’s house either,’ Tom sounded almost guilty, or maybe ashamed.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t feel comfortable talking about it at home. It’s personal.’

  ‘You can come over here some time if you like?’ Nick suggested, intrigued. What could be so personal that he can’t even speak to Tommy about it?

  ‘Thank you, Nick.’

  ‘That’s alright. It will have to be in a week or two if you can wait? It’s going be busy at work this week.’

  ‘Yeah, I can wait. Oh, I know. Amiton’s crazy at Halloween.’ Tom sighed.

  Lansin Island was the place to be for Halloween, or as some of the locals called it: Samhain.

  The entire town was decorated. There were bloated pumpkin-faces, hollow-eyed ghosts, gangly spiders, and frowning skulls; it was a festive overload, like if a child had been given free rein to top their ice cream with sprinkles, Amiton received a Halloween-sprinkles overdose. Public rituals were performed and a play enacting a wild hunt with the lord of the dead, otherworldly beings, fairies and animals. Clairvoyant’s tents were set up where people would pay to know their future. It was mainly aimed at tourists but almost everyone in Amiton and on Lansin Island celebrated Halloween. In the town centre it was normal to wear a costume for the entire day; most shop assistants did, and Mora insisted that her staff had to dress up too. In the evening there were firework displays at Wood Park, and other plays that made use of special lighting effects and fire manipulation: dancing, spinning, twirling.

  ‘Yeah, it is busy, but I love it!’ Nick said, ‘Thank you for lending me Big Fish by the way, it was good.’

  ‘That’s alright. So I’ll see you next weekend, bye.’

  ‘See you.’ and Nick hung up.

  He contemplated what costume to wear to work on Halloween. He became distracted when he remembered that ‘the veil between the two worlds’ was supposedly ‘thinnest’ on Halloween, so divination was meant to be easier. He smiled, excited, and became antsy about the idea that he could have another premonition that day.

  He spent the rest of the day reading books in the snug; only stopping to use the bathroom, make hot chocolate, and to eat.

  The next day at work he spoke with another part-timer, Michael Welding.

  ‘What are you going to dress as on Monday?’ Nick asked him.

  Without a pause, he replied, ‘I’m going to be a vampire.’

  ‘You were a vampire last year.’

  ‘Yeah… I like vampires.’

  ‘So does everyone, apparently.’

  ‘That’s cause they’re awesome.’ Michael was pretty simple and straight to the point. He was ridiculously good looking.

  Nick wasn’t homosexual, but Michael was one of those ‘pretty boys’ and if Nick had to look like anyone else: it would be him. He was eighteen, had mousey coloured hair, pale blue eyes, and his toned body gained definition, and recognition, through the tight tops he wore.

  Nick thought he must have been invisible stood next to Michael.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Nick said, ‘how’s college going?’ Michael was on the same Diploma in Construction college course as Tom and Tommy.

  While Nick waited for his colleague to answer, he gazed out the glass front of the store; it rained steadily outside, leaving droplets and trails on the glass.

  ‘It’s good. We’re doing something about surveying.’ Michael slurred his words. He may have had the face of an angel, but he had the voice of a troll; it screamed out, ‘I’m unintelligent!’

  ‘Good to hear.’

  ‘What’re you going to wear Monday, Nick?’ he inquired.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ and on that answer, the conversation died down. They returned to work.

  There wasn’t much to do at Creaky Crystals that Tuesday; even though it was a large store, it was all in order. It was the biggest (and one of the only) tourist shops in the lower grounds. On the front there was a prodigious sign with ‘Creaky Crystals’ etched in cream letters against dark oak.

  Mora didn’t need to employ as many people as she did, but Nick gathered that she liked the company, and also it was fairly unpredictable how busy the store would get; sometimes there were waves of customers and then there were long reposes.

  Amiton locals were a chatty bunch so at least one
staff was usually spent in conversation. The most notorious blabbermouth was Alice Bicker. She was a regular customer, but she wasn’t a Pagan of any variety; she simply loved the stock.

  Nick liked Alice, but she had an irritating habit of stringing the most grating phrases together. He once heard her start a sentence with: ‘To be honest, I’m not going to lie, but at the end of the day, the fact of the matter is…’

  Urgghhh – painful! He hadn’t bumped into Alice for a while now, and he wasn’t too bothered by that.

  Inside Creaky Crystals there were two tills. They were behind glass counters at opposite ends of the store, in order to get through more sales at once. The stock included crystals, crystal balls, hand-carved ornaments, photo frames, coloured candles, tarot cards, dream-catchers, wands, athames, cauldrons, incense, oils, jewellery, meditation CD’s, cloaks, calendars, gifts and similar items. Though, at this time of year, the items were more Halloween oriented.

  Nick assumed that Mora regretted setting up Creaky Crystals in the lower grounds; her income would most likely have doubled in the upper grounds. Nonetheless, she loved her store, and Nick could see that.

  Towards the end of his shift, Janet tramped over to him, ‘Have you got a girlfriend yet?’ her eyes so wide.

  ‘No, Janet, no luck there.’ he answered apathetically.

  ‘I can set you up with someone, you know?’

  ‘I’m not looking to date anyone at the moment.’

  Janet seemed to have acquired an interest in his love life over the past few months. She was in her thirties and had three kids. Her hair was leathery brown like her eyes, and she had large teeth and gums that you couldn’t ignore when she laughed or smiled. She was of average height, and was close friends with Mora. They were in a coven together which when Nick first had an interest in Wicca, he did some research and Mora invited him to one of their coven meetings to see about initiating him.