Window to the Soul

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

Target Audience

"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