She Lies Twisted

by C. M. Stunich

  “Go ahead and go inside. Wait in the downstairs bedroom for me.” He nodded but didn't move. I raised my eyebrows at him. The neighbors were starting to come out of their houses to stare. It was time to defuse the situation or deal with social services again. The last thing I needed was for some snot nosed social worker to try and place me with the state. James began to drag his feet towards the front door. I decided that was as good as I was going to get and walked up to my grandmother. I placed my hands on her tiny shoulders and leaned down.

  “Come on, Mom, let's go back inside and I'll make you some tea.” Grandma Willa always responded better when I called her Mom. She thought I was my mother anyway and if I played into it, it just made things that much easier. She ignored me and bent down to pick up a rock. I looked up as she tossed it at a bunch of quivering leaves near the top of the tree. Bright colors flashed as something skittered down the trunk and disappeared into the bushes on the opposite side. My spine twinged in warning.

  “Watch out!” It was James. I ducked, taking Grandma Willa with me. A burst of red exploded above our heads and smashed into the tree. Bits of bark burst out at us like shots.

  “No dogs in the yard!” Grandma Willa screamed as she attempted to rise. I pushed her back down and stood. The red blur skidded to a stop in some of Anita's prized begonias. I swallowed a lump of fear and tried to ascertain exactly what it was that I was looking at. It was no bigger than a coyote and bore a striking resemblance to something I'd seen in Final Fantasy VII.

  “What the hell?” The words had barely left my mouth when the dog-cat thing turned and started down the brick walkway towards James. Tails like whips (I think I counted six) slashed through the hedges on either side as the animal bore down on James. He paused briefly before turning back towards the house and slamming the door in the thing's face. I didn't blame him. It was scary but after crashing into the door and nearly taking it off the hinges, it turned around and came at me. Grandma Willa was still screaming and pointing and if I'd been a passerby, I would've sworn we were having a block party. Every house in the neighborhood was gawking from doorways and second story balconies, standing on their lawns and restraining their ridiculous dogs. They seemed concerned but not scared.

  They can't see it! I realized as I moved to stand in front of Grandma Willa. But I had no delusions that it wasn't really there. I had seen firsthand what one of these things could do. But why didn't James just touch it and send it back like he'd done before? I shoved my grandmother out of the way and rolled just in time to miss the rows of double teeth and claws. The time for thinking was past, it was time to act. I searched around the grass frantically. I needed a tree branch, one of Anita's shovels, anything really. I was afraid to see what the creature would do to me if all I had to fend it off with were my bare hands.

  A whistle broke across the night.

  The monster's triangular ears swiveled back. It paused in the slow, stalking circle it had been pacing around me and twisted its neck 180 degrees back to look at James. He was standing in the doorway of the house with a fire poker clutched in his skinny hands.

  “You have to touch it!” James screamed as the thing shook its red fur and started to pick up speed for another charge. At least it was easily distracted.

  “Touch it?” I was confused. That was James' job, right?

  “Just trust me!” James yelled as he pulled his arms back like he was preparing for a grand slam. “I'll explain later!” His voice was starting to shake as the dog trotted closer. I shook myself and pulled my hood up. It was like putting on a helmet. It made me feel stronger. I started to run through the grass. The creature turned around again, almost lazily this time. It had started with such fervor. Maybe it's getting bored? I thought as I paused and waited for it to charge me again.

  “Two fingers,” James said and touched his forehead between his eyebrows. “The third eye.” I held out a shaking hand. The dog monster grinned. It grinned just like the sandman had. It was horrid and twisted and it made my stomach hurt. I faltered. Flanks bunched, muscles contracted. It was coming straight for my face.

  James screamed something I couldn't hear and I cowered back, arms over my head. A thought crossed my mind that I wouldn't die but that this was going to hurt and then I heard a sharp yelp and glanced up. The animal was lying on its side in the grass, a glowing arrow protruding from its side. The light around the arrow pulsed like a heartbeat while the creature lifted up its head and licked the blood streaming from the wound. For a moment, I was reminded of a German Shepard licking its side. I almost felt sorry for it.

  Grandma Willa walked barefoot through the grass and paused next to me. She balanced on her toes and kissed my cheek. “Good girl, Marilyn,” she said and started limping back towards the house. Blue and red flickered across the white of the shudders and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

  Cops.

  James turned around and slid the fire poker under the welcome mat before standing up and pulling up his own hood. What will they say about the stitches? I wondered. What about the front door? How much can they see?

  I turned around and came face to face with Margaret Cedar's brother. For the life of me, I couldn't remember his name. The neighbors continued to gawk as he glanced around the yard with a glint of suspicion in his gaze. I risked a look over my shoulder. The dog monster was panting heavily, thick streams of drool dripping across its paws as blood drained from its body and pooled on the dirt under the roses. I almost screamed when a figure stepped out from the shadows.

  It was one of the harpies. I couldn't remember their names but I recognized her as the black one I'd met at the beach. She smiled at me. I turned back around and tried not to let my hands shake.

  “We've received a call about a domestic disturbance,” Mr. Cedar said as he cast a disapproving glance at his partner. The other cop, who I didn't recognize, was still sitting in the passenger seat of the car doing something on his phone. It looked like he was texting. “And don't even get me started on how much trouble you're in at school.”

  “No, no,” I said as I gestured at James to join us. He kept his head low and dragged his feet down the walkway like he was feeling put out by having to do it. I hoped he was acting or I was going to have to remember to be pissed off at him later. Mr. Cedar, whose name tag said Brandon, leaned down to look at James' face.

  “Lord boy,” he exclaimed pulling back. “What have you done to your face?” I pulled the sleeve of my sweatshirt back and showed him the stitches in my wrist. I could see James' eyes flashing with alarm. I knew what I was doing. People saw what they wanted to see and believed what they wanted to believe. This would work. People were just too predictable.

  “We're practicing for a play,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I decided to ignore his other comment. School could wait. That dog thing could get up at any minute. I needed to make this quick. Brandon Cedar raised his eyebrows. James pushed back his hood. “It's just makeup.”

  “It's true, uh, dude.” I cringed. Don't lay it on too thick, I thought at him. “You know, it's like a rendition of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride for the stage. Real cool, huh?” Brandon stared at the front door and then at the ruined patch of begonias and then he smiled.

  “Mrs. Ruby,” he said and stepped between James and me. There was an adult on the scene now, never mind the kids. Kids lie. Kids are trouble makers. I squeezed my fists in anger. James rested a hand on my arm.

  “It'll be okay,” he whispered as he followed the cop up to the house. Please be normal. I thought desperately. Grandma Willa was unpredictable. She could be talking philosophy one minute, staring at the wall in silence the next. I never knew what to expect.

  “Brandon Cedar!” She exclaimed as he came to a stop on one of the front steps. “I never did thank you for bringing Tatum home after her and Maggie's little play sessions.” I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed James by the arm. I dragged him past the cop and Grandma Willa and into the pretty bedroom. I closed the door until the
re was just a little crack and leaned my ear against the opening.

  James sat down on the bed and waited in silence. I could tell he was bursting to tell me something. Should've thought of that last night when you were eating my Rice Krispies. I stifled my anger. It wasn't really directed at him. I was coming down from an adrenaline rush. As soon as my body realized it wasn't a flight or fight situation, I'd be okay.

  Mr. Cedar thanked my grandma with a promise to check up on us sometime next week and left. I sagged against the door with relief.

  “I can't believe it,” I breathed as Grandma Willa hummed her way up the stairs and disappeared into a bedroom.

  “You should go thank your grandma before we go outside,” he said, face serious. “She obviously cares about you.” I scowled as I stood up and opened the door.

  “She's just too senile to remember what happened,” I said stomping over to the busted front door. How'd we get away with that one? James followed me quietly.

  “She saw it, Neil,” he said softly.

  “She's crazy,” I replied, avoiding his previous statement. “She has hour long conversations with my dead mother on a regular basis.” I stepped out the front door and into the back of a harpy with a glowing bow clutched in her hand.

  “It's lovely to see you again, Tatum,” she breathed in a voice that was two parts Marilyn Monroe and one part harpsichord. I shied away from her and approached the dog thing. James stopped on the porch next to her.

  “Thanks,” he said, his macabre face lighting with a genuine smile. “I thought Tatum,” he winked at me. “Was done there for a second.” I rolled my eyes and never thought to wonder how the harpy knew my name when I'd never told her. That was the least weird thing I'd seen that night.

  “The demon has been incapacitated,” she replied simply, dropping her wings to the ground and gliding forward with long, graceful steps. Black feathers trailed behind her like the train of the world's most beautiful dress. My chest twinged with jealousy. I'd always wanted wings.

  “Demon?” I asked, taking a step away from her. Despite the fact that she'd saved me from a pretty nasty attack, I still wasn't quite comfortable with the ethereally beautiful bird woman. Maybe I never would be. Her black lips twisted into a half smile.

  “A soul that has been released but has not yet passed through or over. A wanderer, a lost one, a poltergeist.” I held up a hand and she paused. I had the feeling that if I didn't stop her, she could go on forever. “You must pass him through,” she said to me. I glanced back at James. He nodded. Action first, explanation later, I got it. I knelt down in the grass. Blood soaked into my jeans making me sick. This isn't the same. I told myself. This isn't Boyd. I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Boyd is lying dead in a pool of dark.

  You were minutes late.

  It was your fault.

  I opened my eyes with a gasp and jammed my fingers against the creature’s warm skull. Its body disappeared as neatly and easily as the sandman's but the blood remained. I struggled to get my feet under me and collapsed against the side of the house.

  “Are you feeling well, Tatum?” Asked the harpy lady. I closed my eyes and tried to swallow the clear night air into my aching chest. The blood on my knees was cooling rapidly. It was like having salt poured into a wound.

  “I have to go,” I said as I lurched towards the front door and into the house. I barely made it to the toilet before I was throwing up. My hair draped over my face and reminded me of my sister's dead body. I grabbed the edge of the sink for balance. This is too much for me, I thought as my fingers slipped off the granite counter top and I slumped against the wall. I didn't want a new life. I didn't even want one at all.

  I put my head between my legs and tried to catch my breath.

  I needed a break. Sleep. I needed sleep. I raised my face and stared at the red splotches on my knees. But first I was going to shower.

  James was waiting in the hallway for me when I came out but the harpy lady was nowhere to be seen. “Where's your friend?” I asked as I checked the tie on the white robe I'd found hanging in the bathroom. I think it had been Jessica's once. I didn't want to remember.

  “She had to leave but she did give us another assignment.” James was smiling as if this were a good thing. I wished I could agree with him. I continued past him and through the foyer, past the sitting room, and through a set of pocket doors that led to the kitchen. I planned on going to sleep but first I needed something to soothe my queasy stomach. Cereal was becoming my drug of choice. I almost felt like I couldn't get through the day without it. When I opened the blue box and found that nearly half of my remaining stash was gone, I almost flipped. But I had told James he could have it. I took a deep breath and went to the fridge. James sat down at the table and waited for me to join him.

  “So, uh, I guess I should explain things a little better.” I stared at him, the milk carton clutched tightly in my hand.

  “You think?” I asked and tried to remember to check my temper. Taking my feelings out on him wasn't going to help but I'd be damned if I didn't say it felt good. I took a deep breath and tried to force a smile. It felt awkward against my lips, like a mask that didn't fit. “I'm sorry,” I said. James didn't ask what for, just nodded.

  “You know,” he began slowly, as if testing the waters. I stayed silent. “It was hard for me, too, at first.” His voice trailed off in thought. I waited patiently, the sound of my spoon clinking against the china. “I couldn't stand the sound of cars for the first few months.” He held one of his hands out in front of his face and studied the minute stitches that wrapped around his index finger like a spiral staircase.

  “Because of your accident,” I confirmed, wanting to break the quiet. A little quiet was okay but too much left room for thoughts, memories. Pain.

  “No,” he said and his face fell. “Because of hers.” I dropped my spoon, chipping the fine porcelain. He's talking about his friend, Sydney. He feels guilty. James stood up quickly and pushed his chair in. “I think I'll check in, if you don't mind?” He flicked some of his gray-brown hair away from his face. I wanted to beg him to stay, to tell me why there was a catch in his voice that told me he blamed himself. I nodded, my mouth stuffed full of cereal and curiosity. The questions could wait, they would have to wait. James was already walking away, his borrowed sneakers soft against the wooden floor.

  I stayed at the table for awhile trying to satisfy my curiosity with food. It didn't work and I found myself in the living room staring at a painting Jessica had made. Ribbons dripped from purple clouds like rain and a girl under an umbrella hunched beneath an oak tree, her blonde hair tugged by an unseen tempest. I smiled and touched the canvas with my fingers. Jessica had liked to paint with texture as much as color. The art was as vivid to my fingertips as it was to my eyes. “I miss you, Jess,” I said as my heart contracted with longing. Death was supposed to have been my chance for a reunion but now I was dead and I was still here, still suffering, still alone. “Why me?” I asked the girl in the painting. She didn't have an answer. Why should she? After all, the girl in the painting was me.

  Movement outside the window caught my eye.

  I weaved my way through the antique furnishings in the living room and into the adjacent sun room. The white harpy sat just outside on the sun bleached patio furniture. She was strumming a harp and humming a song I knew I'd never heard before. I opened the French doors and sat down on the edge of a chipped, cement bench. It had been nice once but neglect and time had taken their tolls.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I asked her. She didn't look up until after she'd finished her song, tucking the harp beneath her right wing. Her face was sharp in the moonlight and her yellow lips shone like a beak. I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off a chill.

  “I've done nothing to you, Tatum,” she replied, folded her delicate hands in her lap. “Fate and circumstance chose you, not I.” I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something I'd regret.

  “But w
hy?” I asked. That seemed to be the million dollar question and nobody was willing to answer it.

  “I cannot help you with that,” she replied, tilting her chin up to meet the stars. “I can only assure you that I will do my utmost to guide your soul to peace.” I wanted to tell her that she sounded like one of the new age books that Boyd had liked to read where everything was flowers and love and kindness. It was all bull, of course, but I'd let him tell me about how we'd be reborn in the next life and things would be good. “Karma's a bitch,” he'd say. “But she's also fair, Neil. We've served our time. Next round's ours.” I guess he really believed it.

  “What was that thing?” I asked instead. I needed a distraction, I was starting to drown in pain again. I'd been treading water for way too long.

  “Just think of it as a lost soul,” she said simply, her voice tinkling like a wind chime. “And it's your job to guide it.” She folded her wings beneath her and disappeared into the night leaving behind a sea of feathers and the harp.

  I sat on the bench for awhile, watching the trees sway in the breeze and waited for clarity to dawn on me, for some lifelong revelation to hit me in the face like a truck. The void of emptiness inside of me yawned, stretching wide enough to swallow me whole. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe. Nothing happened. I wasn't ready for that first breath yet. It was still too soon. I opened my eyes and stood up.

  The harp beckoned to me in the silence, begging to be strum by expert fingers. I couldn't grant its request but I did pick it up. It was lighter than I'd expected, like it was made from aluminum instead of wood. I traced my fingers across the grain and wondered how they'd gotten such a dark, almost silver stain. It reflected my face like a mirror, the moon silhouetted behind me like a spotlight. The universe is watching you, Tatum. I plucked one of the strings and closed my eyes.

  The sound was pretty but that was it. Nothing special had happened. I opened my eyes and frowned. Where was the magic? The mystery was there, that was for sure, but where was the hope that always accompanied a hero's journey into the unknown? I started to set the harp back on the bench when I noticed the inscription.