“Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.�
Emily Dickinson
Dead Suffering Story and Art by
John B Badd
Story ©2012/ Art ©2014 - Badd Words LLC
I could not keep myself from glancing at his shackled wrist and orange prison jumper. I knew it was rude, but this was my first time talking to a death row inmate; he was not the type of dead person I usually spoke to. But I was already there, so I guess I would hear him out. He eyeballed Suzan and me when the guard led us into the room, then he looked down at his hands and started rubbing them together. Suzan was his lawyer. But this visit was not about mundane laws. That is why I was there. He glanced back up at us before breaking the silence. "My thought after waking up with a wet face was that the roof was leakin'. I mean we had just bought the house, you know. I start cursing the real estate man. I rolls over and
reach for Erin but she ain't there. So I reach for the light." He shakes his head and stares at the ceiling. "When I look up there she is. It was like that scene in Nightmare on Elm Street where Johnny Depp's girl gets killed—" "That wasn't Johnny Depp's girl," I said. "Yeah it was. That was his first movie." "I know it was his first movie but he was dating Nancy; she lived. You are thinking of—ouch." Suzan twisted the flesh on my side. "Please let Mister Warner finish his story," she said as if I had missed her painful hint. "Continue Collin. It is okay if I call you Collin, isn't it?" I asked. "Yeah, whatever," he continued. "So I look up and—man it was freakin' horrible. Erin was stuck to the ceiling just like that Nancy chick." (I decided not to correct him). "So's I stand up on the bed and I'm flippin' out hard.
I just keep saying her name over and over. Then I hear the laughing.
I couldn't take it. I snatched her down off the ceiling. The blood it was‌." He breathed deep. "I carried her to the neighbors. It was too late. Next thing I know I'm on state borrowed time. No one believed me. I never expected 'em too. That was two years ago today you know." I waited a few seconds to make sure he was finished, then responded, "I know there are things that the courts will not accept. Even if I find whatever murdered your wife no one is going to believe it." I stood and readied myself to leave. "I am sorry Collin but I don't think I can help you."
"Help me!" He pounded his fist into the table as he tried to rise from the chair.
His chains yanked him back into his seat with a clank. He lurched forward in defiance. "I didn't call ya' here to help me mister. I want whatever that thing was that killed my wife to suffer just like she suffered. I want you to find that freakin' thing and send it straight to hell."
I grinned. "Well Collin, I'll help you with that."
Suzan drove me out to Collin's old farm-house as I pondered his predicament. Well it wasn't his anymore, the state owned it now. Either death row inmates do not get to own property or they took it for back taxes. I thought about asking Suzan, but then it slipped my mind.
Did I mention Suzan was my lover? Yep that sexy attorney was my gal. She also helped my on some of my cases. I guess she was my partner. And since that last DUI, my chauffeur. I didn't know why she put up with me, and I was not about to ask. I should, but why ruin a good thing. But about Collin's situation. I wasn't exactly honest with him back at the clink about not being able to help him. I did some work for the governor awhile back. A ghost of one of the previous governors was wandering the halls of the mansion and scaring the crap out of the new First Lady. I discovered that shellfish poison from his chief adviser caused his heart attack. Then I sent him on his way satisfied that the truth was known. They credited the find to unnamed historians and some CSI work done on
the exhumed corpse. But me and the Gov, we both know the truth. So if it turned out this walking-dead-man was hanging level, that some other-worldly entity snuffed his wife, then I was pretty sure I might get him a stay-ofexecution. Maybe even a full pardon. But I did not want to get his hopes up. Plus in all my years of talking to spirits, I never seen one pull a Freddy Kruger body-toss. Most ghost were little more than stains in the fabric of reality. They were lucky if they could muster the strength to interact with a normal human, let alone slice a woman up and hang her like that. Yep, that was Erin's official cause of death. To be specific her throat was slit; I'm pretty sure that's what ended her life. Then out came her heart; they never found it. They did find her though. I started having second thoughts about this outing. "Suzan," I said as I turned down the radio, "I think you should sit this one out." "And why in the world would I want to do that?" "Because, I have a bad feeling about this. You can just stay in the car while—"
"I am not staying in the car mister." She had that stern courtroom look that let me know she was about to convince me she was right even though I knew she wasn't. "This is my case and—" "Listen here Suzan! If your client is straight, then there is something in that house that I don't know how to deal—" She clenched her jaw, eyes stabbed me. I lowered my voice a few decibels. "I do not want you to get hurt. If some kind of spirit killed his wife then it is too dangerous. I can't worry about keeping you safe and fighting it. So you are going to wait here and I am going to go inside and figure out what the hell is going on." She started laughing. "What is so funny?" "In the seven months we have been dating I think that is the most thoughtful, selfless thing you have said to me." "Good," I said. "Then it's settled" She punched me hard in the arm. I smiled. We drove the rest of the way in silence.
We turned onto the gravel road that led to the house. Suzan found it easier than I would have in the dark. She
must have remembered the way from working the case. The grass was overgrown but it was dying off as winter approached. There were busted windows; the work of kids who were too afraid to get any closer than rock tossing distance from the scary old place. Suzan gave me the keys. I took the large flashlight from the trunk. I did not need all that electronic equipment you see on those ghost hunting television programs. I’ve had that equipment built in from birth. I kissed Suzan hard. "Wait here. Please." I started towards the house. Before I made it to the door the hair on my arms stood up. There was definitely supernatural energy floating around. Part of me wished I had time to call back-up. But this was the anniversary of the killing, and spirits like their cycles. The door slid open with a squeal, the
smell of dust and mildew overtook me. I sneezed a couple times as my sinuses adapted to the thick air. It was dark. What do you expect at 1:50 A.M. in a place without electricity? At least my rectangular flashlight lit everything in its beam. The rest of my body hair came to attention. I tasted the energy. My doubts about Collin's story faded faster than an inspired idea. "No," a woman whispered, "leave this place."
I turned left towards her voice. An ethereal figure faded from a doorway as my light struck it. I cursed myself for making a rookie mistake and aimed the light towards the floor hoping she would return. She did not. I went through the opening and found myself in the kitchen. Remnants of the investigation, including police evidence markers, lay about the room. I noticed a C sitting near an empty wooden knife holder. An A sat on the floor in front of the refrigerator atop a large brown stain I recognized to well. I unsheathed my knife and shaved some dry blood from the floor. "Erin show yourself to me." I blew the blood into the air. Her spirit manifested in front of me. She was beautiful in a translucent sort of way. "Collin sent me here. I'm looking for the monster that took your life. I will help you find peace." "There is a wicked spirit here, but it did not take my life," she said in a moaning whisper. "My death was its gateway." "Who killed you," I asked. "You must leave."
I heard the front door squeal open. I hurried in there with my knife at the ready. It was Suzan. "I thought we agreed you would stay with the car,” I yelled as I lowered my blade. “It isn't safe here." I noticed she held a black pistol in her hands. When did she get a gun?
The spirit spoke, "That is the one who murdered me.” Suzan could not hear or see the ghost. "Um, Suzan, how did you get assigned to Collin's case?"
"I volunteered," she said bringing the revolver up towards my head. "So now what? Are you going to kill me as part of some sick ritual?" She laughed. "No, we need you alive." "We who?" Blackness oozed from the walls down to the ground. It pulled itself up into the form of a man beside Suzan. I reached for the pouch at my side which held my arcane weapons. "Don't even think about it," Suzan said. "Why?" It was the shadow that answered in a deep, echoing voice, "I need a vessel strong enough to hold me. The husband was too weak. But he brought us to you." I lost focus; too many thoughts filled my head. How I met Suzan at that bar; I had never seen her there before. She bought me drinks whenever we went out. When I got the DUI she was nice enough to drive me around town. What
kind of attorney had time to do that? And then there was the offhand way she mentioned this case. I bit the bait. I brought the light up into her eyes and darted to the side flinging the knife at her head. It missed. She did not fire the gun, she could not risk killing me. I reached for the herbs and blessed water in my belt pouch, cold tentacles yanked my arms outward. I moved through the air. I fought for control of my limbs. The darkness was like a giant squid holding me. Black spurs pressed against my clenched lips. I held them tight but they filled my nostrils, I opened my mouth to breathe and it entered. It tasted rancid, my gag reflex kicked in but there was nowhere to vomit. I felt it entering my mind. I had to act fast. I let my body go.
‌
The man dressed like a fortune-telling woman sat across the table staring at me with wide eyes. He rubbed his crystal balls out of habit and took a deep breath. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you are the first person I found who can hear me." Outside the tent children yelled and carnival music filled the air. This guy used his talents to pry into customers minds and empty their wallets instead of helping people with supernatural problems. Maybe he was a smarter man that I. "So what do expect me to do," he asked. "I want you the help me find that lying lawyer and that freaking thing that stole my body and send them both to hell." He held out his hands and shrugged. "I am sorry ghost, but I just can't help you." Yep, he was definitely a smarter man than I.
About the Author
John B Badd likes playing with words. Sometimes those words work magic, and they can transport you to a strange new world. John also dabbles art. http://www.JohnBBadd.com