Window to the Soul
"Oh, my God!" Holli squeaked and shook her hands in delighted disgust. "That's sick. Does it hurt?"
"Totally not," said Monica. "Well, a little at first, y'know? Like a stuck eyelash." She rolled her eyes to the right again to expose her new I-Zomb.
The heart-shaped patch on her left eyeball was a bit smaller than the iris. Holli watched as it flashed blood red then faded to cool silver.
"I SO want one. You gotta tell me where you got it."
"There's a new place in the mall, mega-creepy, called "Soul Windows", and -" The warning bell rang and the two girls joined a general rush to class. By the end of the of the school day Holli had forgotten her desire for an I-Zomb.
The weekend passed in a rush of travel, cousins, and too much food. Back at school Monday, Holli remembered; everyone seemed to have an I-Zomb except her. But Monica was out sick and Holli was reluctant to go malling without her best friend; she felt like it was cheating or something, so she didn't go. Tuesday morning Holli spotted Monica at her locker and rushed over, not noticing the lack of traffic in the hall.
"Oh, m'God," blurted Holli, "I hope you're okay today, 'cause we need to go and get my I-Zomb, okay? After school today, okay?" Monica grunted and gave a nod before walking tiredly away, leaving Holli concerned. She didn't want to, but if Monica punked out today, Holli was going without her.
Luckily it didn't come to that, though Monica wasn't good company. She didn't say a word the entire bus-ride to SouthCrest Mall, responding to Holli's monologue with the barest of nods and grunts. When Monica walked straight through the mall without a moment of window shopping, Holli awoke to her friends strange behavior. Taking Monica's arm, Holli guided her to the food court and made her sit at a table. Sitting beside her, Holli looked Monica in the eye.
The I-Zomb was black, no changing colors, and it seemed larger. Worse, Monica's eyes were as dead as a drunken jock's conscience.
"Oh, my, God, you're high!" Holli jumped up. "I feel sorry for you. Just stay right here, okay? I'll make sure you get home, but I can't hang out with druggies." She hurried away, cursing under her breath, not noticing the vacant stares and lurching stagger of some fellow mall-goers.
Before she knew it, she nearly stumbled into the open door of "Soul Windows." It looked as creepy as Monica said, though not a Halloween kind of creepy, but a dark decor and funky smell creepy. Chin up, Holli walked in.
Once inside she could see much of the decoration was tacky; velvet paintings of slasher movie scenes, skulls so obviously fake she knew there was a tiny "Made in China" sticker on the bottom. The goth-emo girl behind the counter didn't even greet Holli as she approached.
"Hello. Uhm, I want, that is I'd like to get an I-Zomb?"
The counter girl snapped her gum emotionlessly and raised the flap for Holli to pass behind the counter. Another girl appeared through the curtains and guided Holli to a medieval-looking chair with straps and buckles. A wild-haired old guy in a white coat greeted her.
"Hello there, young lady, and welcome to my establishment." He bustled around, got Holli in the chair, showed her a catalogue of I-Zomb images, chatting the whole while.
Almost before she knew it, Dr. Bayne was lining up his brass and glass 'matrix imprinter' on her left eye.
"This will sting a little bit at first, but it'll pass quickly. I think the star is a good choice, very pretty." He peeked out from behind the machine, smile full of yellowed teeth. "Just read the chart on the wall there out loud and we'll get started."
"I, state your name. . ." she paused and giggled, decided to read ahead. "Wait," she said, "what does 'surrender my immortal soul' mean? I mean, I know what it means, but I don't understand."
"Don't worry, dear," said Dr. Bayne cheerily. "It's just a formality, it means nothing, really." Impatience raised his voice. "Just read it aloud, I'll explain everything after.
"Actually," said Holli, "I just remembered? I have an appointment with, uhm, a friend." She got up from the chair.
"No, no, this won't take long." He waved his hands, moved to block her way. "Please sit back down."
"Sorry," Holli said, ducking past him and running out of the shop. She fled back to the food court where Monica still waited.
"OmyGod, get up, get up," Holli blurted, panting from fear and exertion. "We gotta go, c'mon Monica." She yanked her friend up and dragged her toward the nearest exit, weaving through the maze of tables and chairs. "Hurry up."
Suddenly Monica stopped, yanked Holli to a stop as well.
"Don't you wanna be cool?" said Monica. "Don't you want your I-Zomb?"
"Not from that guy, I don't." Holli tugged at her friend, but she wouldn't budge. "Let's go!" Holli dropped Monica's hand to get behind her and push, but stopped when she noticed a small crowd of shuffling youths closing in on them from all directions.
"I-Zomb first. I-Zomb." Monica began to repeat the word over and over, and the teenagers around them took up the chant. Holli screamed as reaching hands seized her and dragged her back to "Soul Windows."
And so began the Teenage I-Zomb Apocalypse.
The End
"Mr. Fuchs, allow me to introduce our first supernatural spokesmodel, Bloody Mary." Ned Coulter waved his hand at the antique silver-framed mirror on a tripod in the middle of the lab.
"This is unbelievable." Bernard Fuchs, VP of Advertising Technology Development, unbuttoned his jacket and slowly circled the mirror, fascinated but unwilling to get closer. The gruesome figure within the silvered glass watched him with just as much interest. "I just heard of this and here it is."
Ned moved to his computer. "Yes sir, it is very new. I think we have an advantage here, one we act quickly to exploit
The phantasm had a woman's face with black pits for eyes and mouth, outdated clothing that shifted style over time. Blood coated the chin and streaked the cheeks like tears. It watched Bernard, hands coyly behind its back, until he moved behind the mirror, and was still watching when he stepped around to the front again.
Trading sports coat for lab coat, Ned also watched his boss, gauging the man's reaction to the presentation. "Believe it, Mr. Fuchs," he said. "And it gets better." A few keystrokes at his computer dimmed the overhead lights in the laboratory and spot-lit other reflective surfaces.
At Ned's nod the apparition faded, then reappeared on every reflective surface in the lab. No matter the angle, every one was looking straight at Bernard. The man was chilled but impressed.
"And, uhm, she can do this anywhere?" Bernard tore his eyes from the ghostly images to look at Ned. "Great," he replied to Ned's positive nod. "What kind of technology do we need to field?"
"That's the real beauty, Mr. Fuchs," said Ned in his best power-sell voice. "Every home in America already has everything we need. Our client's television advertisements will contain a subliminal component for the invocation. Every time one of those ads play, bang, we're on everything shiny in the house."
"Excellent," Bernard said, pushing back his thinning hair. He glanced at the nearest apparition and it winked at him. He quickly looked back at Ned. "Did you call Legal?"
"Yes, sir." Ned was glad he'd prepared. "They assured me it would be years before this technology could be regulated."
"Actually, I meant possible liability," he said, beginning to sweat from the effort of not looking at those frightening eyes.
"Right. Well, The research that originally confirmed the existence of supernatural persons also proved they are everywhere and unable to harm anyone. That makes privacy a non-issue because the SP's are already there."
"Clear enough." Bernard fought the strong urge to leave the lab. "What about labelling?"
"That's why I asked you to come down, sir." Ned raised the lights. "She's done it!" He motioned to the old mirror, where Bloody Mary was flashing a series of iconic logos in front of itself. It even toned down the disturbing facial features.
"Brilliant," said Bernard happily, concerns forgotten. "I'm blown away, Ned. Let's go run this by Accounts and maybe Production. I'd love to get this up and running by the holidays."
Ned turned off the lights and the two men left, happily discussing ways to integrate Bloody Mary into advertising schemes. In the tiny illumination of LEDs glowing from various machines around the lab, Bloody Mary stretched clawed hands and bared ranks of fangs, then laughed silently as it waited to be released on a target audience.
The End
As the newest caseworker, Tim didn't feel accepted yet. To him this was proved by his lack of conversation and contact at this office retirement party. He'd found himself slowly circling the fringes alone, from punch to cake and back. Mostly he was glad it was Friday.
He'd only been there a week and didn't really expect instant acceptance; he knew Youth Services casework forced people to put up protective walls to keep their sanity. So he strolled the grey/green carpet under the flourescent glare, smiling and nodding whenever anyone glanced his way. Thus he was surprised when someone sitting at a desk spoke to him.
"C'mon over here, honey." The matronly black woman patted the arm of an office chair in the jumble of other chairs and desks pushed aside to make room for the small crowd. "Ya'll are makin' me nervous, prowling 'round like that." Her smile was not nervous; in fact hers was the least nervous face he'd ever seen.
"Thanks," he said as respectfully as he could. Before he sat down he put out his hand. "I'm Tim." Her hand was soft, but easily surrounded Tim's in a strong grip.
"I know who ya are, hun," she said as he sat. "Mr. Timothy Tramwell, newest caseworker in the great city of Charlotte and probably all of North Carolina DHHS." She touched his arm and leaned toward him. "And my replacement, thank the Lord. I'm Edna."
Tim almost choked on the punch he was sipping. Mortified, he mumbled an apology for not recognizing her as the guest of honor. She waved off his embarrassment and they fell into conversation. The man was warmed by her acceptance; she shared tidbits of office gossip and encouraged him to share his own insights. Finally he felt comfortable enough to ask Edna a personal question.
"What got you into Youth Services, anyway?" Instead of the quick, friendly answer he'd expected, she crossed her arms and looked at her feet, though her eyes seemed focused somewhere much further away than the floor. Her abrupt change of manner had Tim about to apologize again, but she spoke up before he could frame anything that didn't sound condescending to his inner editor.
"How many times you reckon I've been asked that?" she said, then chuckled. "Lord, I don't even 'member myself." She looked at Tim's face, saw the worry there. "Don't you worry none, sweetie. This old lady ain't goin' crazy. It's just that every time I've been asked that question, I lied. Now here we are, out with the old an' in with the new. I got to ask myself if the Lord meant it this way." She sighed. "I'm gonna tell you the truth, Tim, if you'll let me?"
"Of course," he said. Intrigued and more than a little touched by her trust, he scooted his chair closer. "Shoot."
"It was near on 40 years ago," she started. "I was a hooker then, uptown before it really was uptown." She chuckled. "Nobody here knows that about me, nobody but you now. Anyway, I had me a spot staked out on Green Street, long before that park was there.
"The Green," Tim said. "I know it."
"That's the one. Well, it was hard times back then, so me and the other workin' girls along there took care of each other when we could, called ourselves the Sisters. There was one girl, her name was Amy, and I'll never forget her. She was likely the most self-destructive teenager I ever met. Nothing she wouldn't drink or snort, nobody she feared." She shook her head sadly. "But the worst part was her little brother, Vic."
"That boy had it worse than all us girls put together. His mama was a drunk, his daddy was crippled, something like muscular dystrophy I think now. He was taking care of them and his crazy sister, right up until the daddy died. Crazy Amy started a fire a week later, burned the place down with her and her mama. Only thing that saved Vic was that he was workin' somewhere."
"That's harsh," said Tim as she paused reflectively. The sounds of the party had increased as the party-goers started silly games, but Tim felt the quiet around him and Edna.
"Harsh as a brillo pad," she continued. "That's the kind of luck that boy had. He'd come out sometimes after that, like he was still lookin' for his sister. We'd slip him a little cash or food, whatever we had, but every time I saw him he looked worse and worse. Then one night I was at my spot along an old red brick wall and here he comes, wandering along the sidewalk like a balloon in the breeze." She held a hand to her forehead for a moment, then continued.
"It was late. There wasn't a lot of traffic, but Vic stepped right out in it, never seemed to notice. My heart just about stopped, but I ran out there and yanked him from in front of a green Buick. I'll never forget that grille coming at me. That boy was so light and skinny. . .well, I got him over to that wall and soon as I got my voice back I asked him if he was trying to kill himself."
"He looked plumb surprised. 'No, Sister Edee, he told me, I don't think. I just feel like I got no way to stay put.'" You and me might call him dissociative today; back then he was just real sad. 'I think I'm gonna be gone soon. I don't hardly feel the ground anymore,' he said."
"I was young and thought I had the world figured out, but I had no idea the power words possess. Just like you, Tim." Edna pointed a long finger at him. He was startled and puzzled at that, but decided not to respond with more than a nod.
"I turned him around and put his hands on that old brick wall. 'Vic, I said, you feel that? That's you. You're a brick holdin' up everyone else.' He laid his face on that wall and cried. I'll admit I cried some with him."
"The problem was I just couldn't let well enough alone. I told him 'Imagine you're a brick, okay? Just close your eyes and think on being that brick. Nothing makes a brick sad or angry. A brick is strong and hard and true, nothin' ever bothers that brick. Don't you worry about going away, understand? Bricks don't go away.' Then a car stopped and honked. I told him to stay there and pray 'til he felt better and I'd try to check on him later. But the trick led to a party, and that led to a raid, so I didn't get back for a couple of days. I didn't worry, the other Sisters would keep an eye out."
"Vic was still there. He was part of that wall, mortar and brick, his face still raised to Heaven and sadness on his mouth." Edna's black eyes held Tim; he didn't even consider looking away. "That's the day I decided helping kids was my calling. I owed a debt for my part of what happened to that boy and I swore to God I would do everything in my power to save as many lives from ruination as I could." She leaned back, wiped tears from her cheeks and silently waited for his response.
Though Tim had already decided she was messing with him, chills raised hair and goosepimples along his arms. He decided to treat it as a friendly hazing and ignore how creeped out he was.
"You almost got me there, Edna," he said without a tremor. "You do this to all the new guys, I bet." He forced a chuckle.
"Had you going, didn't I?" She leaned forward again, held his wrist. "But you better believe your words have power over these children. Don't you ever doubt that, understand?"
"I promise," Tim said around the knot that appeared in his throat. He put his other hand over hers. "I'll do my best."
"That's all me and the Lord ask for," she responded and they shared a few moments of quiet contemplation. Then the party swept over them and Edna went to open the presents to their cheers. To Tim she seemed older, more tired than the woman he'd sat with a few minutes ago.
The next day dawned spectacularly, reds and oranges heralding an offshore storm. Tim spent Saturday morning at a family brunch his mother had insisted on to celebrate his new job, followed by a bachelor party for cousin Gary. Sunday morning saw the storm roll in. Tim decided to skip church with the family; Edna's story still had a few teeth in him.
Fine rain drifted down when he reached Green Circle drive. Thanks to the weather he was able to park his Prius next to The Green. Rain gave the brick walks and topiarys a fresh gleam. The air was too muggy and warm to wear a raincoat, so Tim strolled from one work of art to another under his umbrella. Near the center of the park he finally saw the boy made of brick.
As he approached it he felt both apprehension and relief. It wasn't a brick wall, it was a sculpture of brick depicting children climbing playfully on a giant book. The detail was wonderful. He stopped beside a young black woman in a dark raincoat who was also admiring the work. Tim looked for a sign or plaque giving information about the brick sculpture, but there was neither.
"Excuse me," he said, "do you know how long this has been here?" The woman looked at him quickly, as if startled. She was younger than his first impression, but her eyes were swollen and red from crying.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." She swiped at her face with a snuffle. "What did you ask?"
"Oh, nothing important, sorry." He moved close enough to put his umbrella above her. "Something wrong?" Before she answered, she closed her eyes and squared her shoulders.
"My grandmother died here yesterday." She faced the sculpture again; chills crawled on Tim's arms and back again as she continued. "This was her favorite place. She came here every week." Pride pushed away the waver in her voice. "She saved this, you know. When the city wanted to tear down that wall for the new park she stopped them, and then when they tried to take it out to make room for a new sculpture she fought them until they agreed to keep the brick boy." She stopped with a sob.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said, suddenly surer of himself, "but I don't think Edna would want you to stand in the rain and cry."
"You knew my Grammy Edna?" The rain stopped as the girl smiled at Tim. He stepped closer to the bricks so he could see the boy's face.
"Yes," he replied, heart swelling with joy, "yes, I think I do know her now."
The brick boy's face was turned upward, eyes patiently watching the sky, but his mouth was curved into a tiny, cherub's smile.
The End.
