Myfinal arrangements were made. After deliberations over a couple of days myparents decided on a memorial service with a viewing. After that I would becremated and they would bring my ashes home. Gwen had asked about getting atiny urn of her own. My mom and sister were getting necklaces that wouldcontain some of my ashes. My parents seemed satisfied with their finaldecision, but Gwen wasn’t dealing so well.
“Idon’t want to burn him,” I heard her say to Julie more than once up until the dayof the service. I felt a little weird about the idea too, but I came to acceptit. The physical self no longer functioned, so what was the point in throwingthe body into the ground? Julie had tried to explain it in her usual bluntmanner, but Gwen tuned her out.
Mymemorial service fell on the first day of spring. The winter had been a mildone; the daffodils and crocuses were already beginning their annual rebirth.The day was warm and my dad’s forehead was already beaded with sweat beforethey arrived at the funeral home. My family took their spots along the wall. Istood by my casket because I had no idea where I should go.
Ibecame emotional at all the people who took the time to show up to pay finalrespects. There were so many relatives, former teachers and classmates, andeven a couple of ex-girlfriends. I couldn’t help but smile at how many friendsshowed up in t-shirts with depictions of comic book characters. I missed mostof the service; I was too engrossed in staring at everyone. The back wall waspacked with people and there was overflow into another room. My sister got upand spoke briefly; I’ll never know how she had the strength to speak in frontof a packed room and not break down once.
Afterwards,many stopped by the casket one last time. As my friends filed by to saygoodbye, leave little gifts, a strange thing started happening: I saw theirfuture. It wasn’t always pretty. My buddy Mike would be dead within the year.My pal Tommy, who had been through his own tragedy a couple of yearsback, would remain haunted by his ghosts for the rest of his years. My firstgirlfriend, Stacey, had much tragedy ahead of her, but she would persevere.
Inthe end, the last to leave were my parents and sister.
Dadhad written me a letter and stuffed it awkwardly into the pocket of my jacket.I saw depression in his future and I wanted so badly for him to open up tosomeone, learn how to express himself so he could find some peace.
Momtouched the rosary beads in my hands and cried. I had worried about herdrinking before, and it was going to become a more serious problem as the yearswent on.
Gwenasked for a moment alone. She put a Spider Man stuffed toy in the casket andtried to slip a note of her own between my folded hands. It wouldn’t go and sheeventually stuck it halfway inside my jacket.
“Imiss you, Andrew.” Big shiny tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t believeyou’re making me do this alone. You’re supposed to be the one who helps me withMom and Dad when they get older. Why did you leave me?” She continued to cry,no longer able to speak.
Iwent to her and put my arms around her. I saw her future: it was full ofhappiness and heartbreak. There would be many an adventure, and much pain anddepression. But her life would be a long and fulfilling one. Knowing thatbrought me comfort.
Ireleased my hold on her and stepped back. The living claim they’re the oneshaunted by ghosts, but those of us already dead are every bit as haunted by theones we left behind.
Murmur
Jeremy Flagg
Even the mute scream.
Tabitha remembered this as she cupped the stretched cheeks ofthe remnant, a ghost nearing its end. The ghost’s jaw remained trapped in anexpression of perpetual terror. Blue flickering lights moved between thetortured’s mouth to the tips of her thumbs. Leaning in, she licked the bottomlip of the remnant, coaxing tiny sparks onto her own tongue. With anestablished connection, Tabitha experienced the remnant’s memories of death.
* * *
The thin lance sank into the space between her eye and her nose.With one tap, then two, the small mallet drove the piece of metal into her tearduct. Limbs remained frozen in place as she begged her muscles to respond. Theman in white turned the skewer forty-five degrees counter clockwise. Strapstightened across her chest as her body convulsed, her spine threatening to foldin two.
The doctor turned the device to and fro while nurses scrambledto hold her body in the operating chair. Narcotics swelled through her veinsstealing her free will. Another seizure subsided, presenting an opportunity forthe neuromancer to remove the instrument. The thin piece of metal slid from hertear duct, dark red dripping onto the end of her nose. His breath washed acrossher skin as he leaned, inspecting the success of his operation.
The doctor pulled down the mask covering his mouth, the stringspulling at his ears, forcing them to fold outward. The instrument slid along anoutstretched tongue, blood coating his lips. Eyes shut, he held his breathwhile he savored the woman’s essence. When he opened his eyes, bright yellowslits replaced his iris while the veins on his neck engorged, leaving himappearing more devil than human.
The man’s mouth danced between pursed lips and shiny white teethas he spoke. Silence. A leather binding fell away from her forehead, lettingher slouch to one side. Clear fluid flowed from the hole in her tear duct,mixing with the blood until it dripped from her face.
The scene rebooted. The man secured the strap again...
* * *
Tabitha staggered backward, her hands shaking from the remnant’smemory of dying. Her fingers twitched, similar to when she used to spend toomuch time behind a keyboard. Ensuring the memories hadn’t been real, shetouched the space near the bridge of her nose, inspecting for holes.
In front of her, the remnant, a woman kneeled
