After Life

Guilt over the part I had played in (Y/N)’s murder seemed to weigh me down, to claw at me, wanting to drag me into the earth itself. I was a killer meeting my victim for the first time, having unknowingly already done the deed long ago.

After what felt like an eternity spinning in an abyss of my own remorse, I realized that (Y/N) had stopped talking. It was cowardly, but I couldn’t make myself look her in the eye. Instead I stared fixedly at the grass, feeling small and utterly worthless.

“God’s blood, what’s wrong with you? You’re white as a ghost!” That made me chuckle, and quickly she joined in with full-bellied, hearty laughter.

In the moment, the merriment helped me forget my worry. I chanced a glance at her and was surprised to see nothing but amusement and a touch of concern. But as soon as our mirth dwindled away, my shame returned. My customary eloquence failed me, but still I fought to make an apology. “It’s my fault. It’s because of me that you’re-“

She snorted loudly, “enow, ya mandrake mymmergin! That’s like to blamin ole Jenkins for dyin! Aye, if he hadn’t of kicked the bucket, like as not I wouldn’t have end up killed, but you can’t very well get mad at a sod for dyin, can you?”

I felt strangely invalidated- my confession had been repudiated. “True, but in this instance I was-“

She snorted again! “Don’t be an arse! After you started staring at me while I was dancin, I put it all together on me own. I figured any dead fopdoodle dressed so swish had to be-“

How had she known I was dead? I hadn’t known she was dead. I hadn’t been around a mirror in ages… was I ugly? Terrified, I interrupted, “how did you know I had died?”

She shot me an irritated look. “As I was sayin, I just knew you had to be the Viscount Biersack. Twas common talk everywhere when you were killed- that you’d snogged your way to a beheadin but come back to haunt your castle. Drove off Baron-

That didn’t answer my question! “But do I look dead? How-“

“Because your head and neck are cut apart, ya bobolyne!” I finally got the message and sat quietly for the rest of her explanation. I was so out of practice with conversation…

Seeing me chastened, she continued on. “Afore I e’en saw you, I figured you had been the one to scare off Sir Hemley, I just hadn’t seen you meself until now. And it’s the truth that it don’t matter a fig! I was bound to find a bad end some way’re another, soon as I got ere.” She sighed at my downtrodden expression and changed her tone to that of a person addressing a toddler. “Look now- did you mean to get me killed?”

“No! No, most certainly not!” The moment I saw her defenses ratchet back up, I regretted my tone. “I, I’m sorry. I just mean to apologize. As much as I like your company, I’d rather you’d have lived and been happy.”

All the fire went out of her eyes as she tilted her head just a smidgeon, watching me suspiciously. “Yeh like me company?”

I felt my anxiety starting to spiral out of control under her deliberate stare. I wasn’t used to talking to anyone, but then she had come along- a bawdy wench with a mouth on her to rival any soldier. Everything had changed after centuries. All my routines had been destroyed. I was getting rocks thrown at me; I was getting laughed at. Things had happened that hadn’t happened since I had died. My thoughts were all in a kerfluffle! But, all that notwithstanding, I couldn’t recall the last time I had been so happy.

Feeling suddenly very vulnerable, I had the urge to flee. But her gaze was only measuring, not accusing. The sincerity in her (Y/E/C) eyes was strangely disarming. There was a strange sort of flip-flop in my phantasmal gut, but I ignored it and managed a small smile, “aye.”

After that we both looked at the grass for a fair while. Though I couldn’t speak for (Y/N), my thoughts were ricocheting around my head, leaving me in a confused tizzy. Why did I feel so bashful, so powerless? Did she truly not fault me for her death? I traced my ghostly finger along the trim of one of my boots, unable to figure what to say. At least I had died well-dressed.

It was (Y/N) who spoke first. “Well, I reckon that’s a fine thing, as we’re stuck ere together. Might as well get on, eh?”

I nodded, and finally raised my eyes to hers. Her grin was wide and pretty and it was contagious.

Somehow we ended up talking for hours. Everything about her was so forthright and authentic. Never would I have guessed that a scullion could be so likable.

She was afraid of dogs and horses, but liked cats. Since dying she had enjoyed watching the birds and woodland creatures go about their lives. Without them, she felt she would have gone mad.

I told her about some of the horses and dogs I had had in life to try and help her see reason through her fear. She was intrigued by stories of Copper, the family dog I’d spent my youth with playing and exploring the forest around us. During our adventures, I had also liked watching the forest animals, though Copper had inevitably chased away all but the birds in the trees.

Her favorite color was (Y/F/C). She’d had no clothes in that shade due to cost, but had always wanted some. I told her the truth; my favorite color seemed to differ each day from the next, and that I hadn’t thought of it much in centuries.

She had loved sweets, with pastries like donuts, cakes, and marzipan as her favorites. I had also liked sweets, but preferred chocolate. Though, truly, savory things like cheeses had been even better. When I tried to explain the glory of bleu cheese, she was both fascinated and disgusted. She just couldn’t comprehend how mold could improve a cheese.

Eventually, I plucked up the courage to ask why she hadn’t used Sir Hemley’s sons’ real name and had called him ‘Fancy’ instead. She revealed that she hadn’t meant to mention the Hemley surname at all, that she’d just got too eager to finally share her tale with someone else. As for why she had called him ‘Fancy’ (apparently ‘Francis’ in reality), she figured all nobles were friends and didn’t want me complaining.

I took great pleasure in dispelling her illusion about that matter. Not only was it untrue that all members of the peerage were ‘friends’ (I’d been assassinated by a baron, after all), but Francis had been nothing but an abydocomist. I explained how the elder Hemley had never been a noble, but instead a member of the House of Commons and merely a glorified merchant. His son Francis had not only been worse than pond scum and a psychopath, but also no more a noble than she. Seeing her joy at that revelation made me curiously proud of myself.

Eventually the dawn came, and I was exhausted after such a night. The sun began to burn away the fog, and I felt myself weakening. (Y/N) must have felt it too, as she yawned and stretched. I couldn’t help but appreciate the swell of her bosom as it shifted with her, though I (of course) forced my gaze to the ground rather than linger. While impropriety was hardly a concern, I wanted neither to get caught nor to have my nethers reawaken as they had earlier. Hopefully that would never recur.

As we both rose, silently agreeing that the hour was late, I couldn’t help but ask one more question. “Why is it that you dance about every night?”

I immediately regretted asking when her expression darkened a bit. “I’ve always liked dancing an singin. I gather it’s a mess, apparently. But I figured no one can see now-“

I smiled, “but I can see.”

She scowled, “there’s no need to-“

I interrupted again, “you dance very well, it’s lovely to watch.”

I saw a hint of pink on her cheeks. “Oh?” I nodded. “And my singin?”

I winced at her hopeful expression, “erm, well, you see-“ Her raucous laughter spared me an awkward explanation.

Her grin was wide, showing she had remarkably nice teeth, and I couldn’t help but mirror it with my own. I’d never met anyone with such infectious cheer. “Well, you’ll just have to run on back to yer castle when you hear me carrying on, then.”

With that we bid goodbye, and I started back towards my home. As I walked, I noticed that I felt so light as though I might float away on the air. Eventually I realized why I was so giddy- I had a friend!

Notes

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