You're Dead: Chapter Three (special preview)

It felt strange to wake up. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but stirring that morning didn’t feel normal. It took a while for my brain to start back up, to remind me that the day before was not a dream. I died, but I remained. I was separated from everything I knew. I died and now I was a psychopomp. Whatever the hell that was.

The weight of the blankets on me felt heavy and for a moment I thought it was my sister snuggled up against me. When we were young, I woke up so often that way. She would have nightmares, caused by the stress and bullying she got at school. When I saw she wasn’t there, I peeled back the comforter to my bare legs, my naked belly. I was nude under the blankets, and even then my brain hadn’t quite cliked to the reason why.

Besides the bed was the pile of clothes Stevie had given me for when I awoke. I ran them through my hands and the fabric felt strange. They were things I had felt before, fabrics I was familiar with. My skin prickled and sort of arched towards the touch of it. The shirt felt softer than I imagined, the shorts felt lighter. I put them on, but they were a snug fit. I’d have to find something bigger later if I wanted to leave the house.

My brain still hadn’t registered it.

When I stood up I was thrown off balance, my knees gave way and I collapsed back onto the bed. I flopped down then laid there like a sack of potatoes. The thought of potatoes made my stomach snarl and gnaw at itself. I placed my hand over my belly as it grumbled hungrily. I stared up at the ceiling where moths had gathered thick in the corners. They spread out along the edges, going sideways and down. Along those edges it looked like fingers creeping out, as if a child were trying to lift the roof off a dollhouse. I stared at those fingers as they wiggled and stretched. They became wisps of smoke that the wings of the moths blew away, turning them into rings which hit against the ceiling light like and dissipated.

“That’s weird,” I muttered to myself. I tried getting up again, finding my legs were much more solid than before. I walked with a heavy gait, I noticed. My feet seemed to want to clobber the floor as I walked. I left my room finding the hallway dark and empty. My stomach continued to growl in protest. It wanted to be fed but I also needed water for this horrible cotton mouth mout. I couldn’t quite remember where the bathroom was, so I just followed where Stevie had gone last night. As I came to a door with a towel hanging out the side, I heard weeping coming from another room.

I looked across the hallway and saw Stevie sitting in the middle of her room. She was holding something but I couldn’t see it. She was sobbing, bent over and rocking herself back and forth. I didn’t know her well enough yet to bother her, so I went into the bathroom. I closed the door and turned on the light switch. The bathroom light hummed and something scurried from the ceiling and behind the shower curtain. I rubbed my face with both hands as I approached the mirror. I turned on the sink, splashing water onto my face and slurping some down. Something felt odd. I then looked up to see a stranger and I screamed.

I stumbled backwards, as did the stranger. I caught myself on the wall as Stevie started knocking on the door. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

I stood back up, facing the woman in the mirror. “Oh my god!” I clapped my hands around my face, so did the other lady. She had freckles, lots of them. Her hair was curly and mussed up on one side. Her brown eyes gazed back into mine, just as horrified as I felt.

“Daisy? Is that you?” Stevie asked. “If it’s Mrs. Mortimer, please just let me guide you back! Me being a lesbian has nothing to do with it.”

“Stevie?” I whimpered.

She sighed with relief. “Oh good, it’s you. You okay in there?”

I stepped closer to the mirror, gazing that shotgun down the barrel. The shape of the face looked oddly the same, but the contents were vastly different.

“I know what you’re thinking, but that mirror is normal!”

I walked away from the mirror in a hurry, opening the door to Stevie. She smiled down at me. “Hey! Not too bad!” She reached out and touched my hair. “I can show you how to take care of this.”

My brain finally got it. “This is me now?”

“Yeah! Say hello to the new Daisy, or whatever you want to call yourself.” Stevie wiped at her eyes, which looked red and puffy. “I hope you slept, because I did not catch a wink.”

I was looking at my hands, flipping them over to examine the palms and backs. I used to think I had such chubby, stubby fingers, but these were more long and elegant. It felt wrong. I decided to ignore it. “Are you okay?” I asked Stevie, hoping her problems would help me avoid my own.

“I’m fine, yeah!” She pointed down the hallway. “You must be starving, how about breakfast?”

My stomach responded before I could. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Booker was passed out in the living room. He was laid back in the armchair with his feet hanging over one arm, while his head dangled over the other. Moths had gathered in the corners here as well.

“Does Booker bring the moths?” I asked.

Stevie scoffed. “No. They just show up when they want. It’s annoying. I’ll start you off with some cereal while I cook.”

“That’d be nice. I dunno why I am so hungry.”