not the ghost
Shauna is dreaming.
The dream occurs in the forest. Even in sleep, there is no escape from it. She stands, barefoot, in the clearing. The soil beneath her feet is cool, and she burrows deeper into the Earth until it coats her. Spring is all around Shauna. The woods hum a serene lullaby of chirping birds and croaking frogs that align with the rustling of trees. Yet, in the distance, a muffled noise truly calls to her. It howls and reverberates in the Wilderness as if the entity is a pack of harmonic wolves. The sound is freeing, and part of her yearns to feel such a release from humanity.
A twig branch snaps, and as her brown eyes roam, a rabbit bursts into the clearing. It's a streak of lustrous white fur, weaving around her feet like it’s the Milky Way and Shauna is the universe. There are patches of stardust swirling around the rabbit, and its brilliant eyes are two saucer-shaped moons that shine in the spiral galaxy. It's a breathtaking sight, one that transcends beyond any human emotions.
"Hey, you little rabbit," She murmurs. Her hand reaches out to brush against the white fur, but before she can pet the rabbit, it starts to gingerly hop away. She frowns. "Hey, no, come back!"
It doesn't listen.
"Don't leave me," Shauna whines. "I don't want to be alone!"
A hunt-and-chase game ensues:
The rabbit runs with a powerful kick of its hind legs, sending dirt flying in its wake. The forefeet thump against the forest floor and Shauna's heartbeat syncs with the drum drum drum of its scurrying. The rabbit is a drummer and she is the stick that pierces it. As they maneuver through the forest, the howling becomes more prominent. It strikes the air: a clash of primal barking and snarling.
They end up at the lake where everything dies.
Shauna pants and her breath releases like wisps of smoke. Her head jerks back and she flinches.
Spring has been swallowed by Winter.
The lake is frosted over, and a trickle of sunlight gleams into the crystalline ice. The rabbit blends in with the white, but the unmistakable flop of its ears has Shauna running in its direction. Her feet burn underneath the harsh cold, and she's shivering from head to toe, but that does not stop her. There is no traction on the lake, and so she stumbles onto her knees with a rough THUD.
Through the ice, her reflection glints up at her. Her eyes are brown, almost black from dilated pupils. They consume the iris so easily, so sunken like they were always meant to be black. Her skin is flushed and cheeks hollowed from the sculpture of starvation. Yet, that isn't the haunting part. It's the thorns and flowers so entwined together that they form a crown atop her dark brown hair. The bramble sticks out from the crown, angled so that it is akin to sharp antlers.
Doomcoming?
She staggers to her feet. There is no time to register that reveal:
Drum and a thump and a howl, drum and a thump and a howl, drum and a thump and a howl. The Harpy, the Hare, and the Hound. Everything materializes at once. The drumming of her heart, the thump of the rabbit sinking into the ice, and the ravenous barking of the wolves. It strangely echoes in Shauna's ears like the instrumental to some twisted song without lyrics, but then there are voices clouding her head.
I can't be around you. I can't even fucking look at you right now.
That sounds like your problem. So, maybe you should leave.
I don't even know who you are anymore.
Well, maybe you never did.
Just as,
"Jackie, no!"
Without hesitation, she plunges herself into the icy depths of the lake. The rabbit is sinking next to her. Slowly, gently, like it is falling asleep. Its eyes are closed and its pinkish nose faintly twitches. But it does not move, it lets the water and cold pull it further and further down. A sinking star, though the light has not ended even after Death.
Shauna, on the other hand, panics at the intense, freezing waves that plague her bones. Her hand frantically reaches for the mammal, but the lack of oxygen is turning everything fuzzy. She tries to gasp for air, but instead, the terrifying water fills her lungs.
There is no turning back. This is how she dies.
The lake, in its depths, is pitch black. The murky water surrounding is numbly cold. Somewhere, on the surface, the starving wolves peer into the darkness. But they do not dare jump into the unknown- do not dare tread further into the deadly lake. Somewhere, at the bottom, lays shards of aluminum and the bones of Laura Lee. Somewhere, in the center, the rabbit and Shauna descend side-by-side. Together, circling around each other like Yin and Yang. Always connected. Always a circle. There is no end without the destruction of the other. Her hand curls into a fist, desperately reaching for soft fur as the rabbit shifts closer. At first, Death is scary. There is a deep denial at the prospect of dying as if it is human nature to protect the brain.
I'll be okay, I'm not dying, I'm not dying, Imnotgoingtodie,
The protective barrier always proves itself futile. It shatters like the chunks of ice when forced with weight, like the screams of the hungry wolves, like the realization that perhaps they're truly stuck out here, like everything . It shatters until there is a barren strip of thought left: I am going to die. And it is going to be like this. Alone. I am going to die alone.
But then, there is a voice in her head. Soft and gentle. Not at all like the plague of Dying.
It's not as bad as you thought, is it?
As she sinks deeper and deeper, it morphs into something new. Death and Life are a circle and there are the blurred lines of in between. There is no true end for everything is connected. It is merely a cycle like gentle rain that evaporates but returns as a powerful storm. As her eyes forcefully close, there is one last thought drowning her mind:
Jackie, I'm sorry.
(In the muffled water, she swears there's another voice echoing back at her. But that is a thought for later. Or never.
On the surface, the wolves have faded away.
A hand reaches for her above water, but it is too late).
The dream suddenly shifts. Shauna is no longer drowning in the lake, but her lungs do not know that. She frantically coughs up water, kneeling over from the discomfort. Her hand reaches out for stability, and fingers wrap around dented metal. A plane seat, perhaps that one that had once belonged to her. She withdraws her hand like it burns and staggers backward. "What?" She whimpers, brown eyes blown. "Where am I?"
A squeeze of her shoulder. She turns:
Lottie stands in front of her. A halo of light encompasses her hair, but shadows dance at her feet. She is wearing a flowy, white dress that ends just short of her knees. Shauna briefly recalls the dress once belonging to Laura Lee. Imposter-Lottie tilts her head, meticulously raising one hand to display a ragged palm. It drips blood onto the wrecked floor. "Just listen, and you will see."
"I don't want to listen," Shauna frowns. But her ears betray her. Strange whispering hums throughout the room. It streams like water over pebbles. At first, it is quiet. So soft she can barely hear it. But it picks up. It becomes so loud her eyes snap shut. A chill runs down her spine- the voices scream directly into her ear. It is incoherent yelling and Shauna's hands cradle her head as she cries. "Make it stop!"
"Open your eyes, Shauna."
Against her will, she does.
Instead of the plane, she stands in a Chapel. The place is ethereal. Candles light the walls, and clerestory windows surround them. But the stained glass embellishing the roof is what makes Shauna gasp. Chest rising and falling with every frantic breath, she gazes with fervent awe at the stained colors meticulously crafted to adorn specific shapes. Somehow, the place of her nightmares is no longer scary.
The mosaic art is familiar. White glass is the color of a rabbit. The rabbit's eyes are pure like they are holy. Icy blue is the color of the woman's skin who holds the rabbit comfortingly in her arms. She stares straight ahead, tranquility in her gaze. Behind her, there is gray. But also brown. A wolf in the shadows with sprouted antlers, waiting to prey upon the rabbit. It is all too tragically beautiful, too painfully familiar, that Shauna cannot stop the compulsion of getting on her knees. She isn't in control- not here. Instead, some high force she does not believe in takes the reigns.
The entity's claws sink deep into Shauna's skin, rooting her in place.
"You have opened your eyes to the Wilderness," Lottie whispers. "Because of it, your baby will not suffer."
Shauna is frozen. She cannot shake her head, cannot move her lips, but her mind is screaming, No, I have not. This isn't right. This isn't real. I don't believe. I don't believe in the Wilderness. You have no right to talk about my baby-
Her hands forcefully clasp together in prayer.
The art of Jackie and the rabbit begin to bleed. It is a trail of crimson that leaks from their eyes. The blood drips from the ceiling, landing on Shauna's fingers with a soft splat , but she cannot move. It continues to make the same drip, drip, drip sound. Like a leak in the roof that cannot be patched.
Her child kicks against her swollen stomach, almost as if it is eager to leave, but surely that isn't true. Her baby is safer inside her than in this world. It isn't their time.
Not yet.
"It needs blood to fuel life," Lottie says. She stares Shauna in the eyes, gently touching her bruised knee. Shauna wasn't even aware of the bruise: it's a deep purple with yellow patches on the outside. When did she fall? The ice? "The Wilderness will continue to punish those who have no faith. But with enough Death, Life can be brought back. The Wilderness loves you enough for that. Your connection is so tethered, don't you see? It's all around you. You just have to listen, Shauna."
No!
She wants to shout.
Instead, her voice echoes. It sounds robotic and lifeless. Unfamiliar, yet it is her voice.
"We hear the Wilderness and it hears us."
Shauna gasps and fervently sits up, clutching at her butterfly-stained chest as it aches. Tears are streaking her cheeks, and her lip faintly wobbles. Unable to escape the sob that escapes her, she curls into herself. Her hands trace her belly, relief flooding through her when she feels the curve of a bump. Her child is safe. She shivers, both from fear and the cold. The attic is chilly, but that isn't a surprise. It never harbors much heat. Instead, it creaks and groans with the ferocious wind outside and lets the cold seep in through the crevices of its seams. Like it is summoned by mere thought, the wind rattles against the window. It is a slithering hiss of a snake, and Shauna sheds the thin blanket off her skin.
She glances at the window that clings with frost. The little ice crystals are like ivy sprouting from an abandoned building. They burst in every direction and completely coat the glass. Quickly, and with a palpation of her chest, Shauna looks away. She does not dare peek through that glass. Not again. Not ever again. Instead, her feet drag across the wood. Her shoes feel like dead weight, dragging and dragging under she finds herself at the bottom of the stairs.
Curious and unsettling eyes meet her gaze.
She's aware she looks like a mess. Her hair is disheveled and her face is splotchy. Puffy from crying. She's been wearing Jackie's shirt for the last few days like it is her lifeline; like it is the only clothing that can grace her skin. The butterflies are wrinkled, their once vibrantly orange-flamed wings graying from countless wear. Like Jackie, they too have died. Yet, Shauna keeps it close to her heart. No matter how old or shriveled the shirt has become.
Under the scrutiny of her teammates, Shauna crosses her arms. Sure, she has scarcely left the attic for the past week- or perhaps even weeks, time is hazy- but does that seriously warrant such a reaction? None of them have the right to judge. Or look at her with pity. Or perceive her in any way. They should leave her alone .
"What?" She asks, but it comes out demanding. "Am I not allowed down here anymore?"
Mari, who is swirling some ludicrous concoction of soup near the fireplace, turns to look at her. She scrunches up her face. "No one said that, Shauna," She huffs out. "Stop making up shit."
"Shut up," She grumbles.
"Someone put a stick up your ass," Mari mutters under her breath. However, she turns her focus back onto her abomination of soup. If her bony shoulders peeking through her yellow hoodie indicate anything, it is that she is fatigued. There is not much bark in a starving dog, and the dark-haired woman is akin.
The whole group is oddly similar. They're all thin and hunched over like skeleton puppets created in the image of a human. There is no control in their words, in their movements, for they leave it to their puppeteer- The Wilderness. It is their blinding faith that sends Shauna reeling with dread. As if she is the only one who knows what goes on behind the scenes of such a production.
(She ignores her dream and deems it just another nightmare).
"What fucking ever.”
She makes a beeline toward the cabin door, but is halted by Tai blocking the entrance. The other woman crosses her arms, a frown lingering on her lips. She looks Shauna in the eye: “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Outside?” She furrows her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed outside.”
Tai looks her up and down. “You’ll freeze in that outfit. Jesus fucking Christ, you’re only wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.”
“So?” Shauna rolls her eyes.
“Tai’s right,” Lottie intervenes. She slinks closer, staring at Shauna with wide brown eyes. They pool with unnamed emotions, or perhaps the strange ‘prophet’ is merely in a trance. “You need to dress warmer.”
Fazed by her dream, Shauna steps backward. She glares at Lottie like a wolf waiting to seek its fangs in. “I’m surprised you didn’t say it wanted me to dress warmer. Maybe you're finally not clinically insane!"
“You don’t understand-”
The only accurate part of my dream was fucking Lottie.
“I don’t want to,” Shauna practically sneers. “Leave me the fuck alone. You're crazy. ”
Lottie's lips are parted, but she does not speak.
“At least put this on,” Tai begs, her hands outstretched to reveal a tattered hoodie. It might as well be rags. “You need it.”
"Okay," She relents. Her voice is softer speaking to her friend. She takes the hoodie and begins to pull it over, ignoring the way it awkwardly sits against her stomach. "I won't go far... alright? I just want some air. "
It's partly true.
She won't be out here long. The snow sinks underneath her shoes, making the same crunch sound repeatedly. It's a popping noise. Not quite as loud as a Bang Snap thrown against concrete in the warmth of July, but not quite as quiet as shriveled leaves in October. It's more like a concoction of both. Shauna walks slowly, ignoring the way her teeth clatter and her body shakes. The cold nips at her face like it's hungry. It groans with the wind, swirling around her in an overwhelming sense of dread. From the bridge of her nose to beneath her thighs, everything is numb. Everything is freezing , especially her hands that are red and brittle.
There's a little voice inside of her that sneers, You deserve it. She deserves to feel the pain, to be void of warmth, to sit in the cold long enough to be uncomfortable. But never long enough to die. No, dying would be a mercy Shauna has not earned. Instead, she has to live with guilt. With the exhaustion of waking up another day in the Wilderness. Knowing that there is the burden of an unborn child inside her, and knowing that it will eventually be another death on her conscience.
Just like Jackie.
Shauna sinks to her knees and lets the snow engulf exposed skin. A bracelet of ice wraps around her ankles, snapping and snapping at her skin until it is a furious shade of red. She pays it no mind, just sits there and blankly stares ahead at the rustling pine trees. Besides the occasional blinking of her brown eyes and twitch of her nose, she does not move. Almost as if she is a statue.
The pine trees gaze back at her. They're long and ragged, kissed by snow on their edges. The green needles stick out, rattling with the wind and shaking bits of swirly snow off. In between the gaps of blurred pine, Shauna waits patiently. What she is waiting for, she does not know, but there is a longing in her chest. Her chapped lips part, and the cold sneaks its way inside her mouth.
She shivers.
And, as always, her mind switch back to her.
Jackie's corpse, wearing her letterman jacket, is slacked against the wall in the meat shed. She's sat there for the last couple weeks. It's only a few feet away, not much of a walk even when pregnant. Shauna should go there, talk to her lifeless form, but there is a nagging fear of, What will you find?
With enough Death, Life can be brought back.
It needs blood to fuel life.
It's a foolish thought. Her nightmare isn't real or tangible. There's no reason to fear it, but her brain does not abide by logic. So, against her judgement, Shauna finds herself in front of the meat shed. A graveyard to the Dead. A bed of snow rests atop the roof, and there are sharp icicles dangling from its eave. Some long and thin, while others are stubby. The wooden door is rectangular, slightly frozen around the hinges, and it screeches when she pulls against it. Some of the snow falls from the impact, and there are flecks of white sticking out from her tousled hair.
"Jackie?" She hesitantly says. Like she might be disturbing her peace.
No answer.
"Jackie," Shauna repeats.
This time, her brown eyes nervously flick to where Jackie's corpse lays. She’s slanted against the back wall, slouched almost like she could be sleeping. Her eyes are closed, and of course, she does not move. A corpse cannot flutter open its eyes, cannot reanimate itself, cannot talk- she should be stagnant, and she is, so is there even a point in staying?
Shauna sighs and turns on her heels. She makes a move toward the door, but is halted by a shadow of movement.
"Were you leaving so soon?" Jackie teasingly drawls, suddenly blocking the doorway. Her face is contoured into a ghostly pout and her arms are crossed. "You usually stay longer."
"I... I have somewhere to be," Shauna mumbles, pointedly staring at the ground.
Shauna's imagination- no matter how twisted in her fragile state- is able to conjure up this perception of her. This Jackie, however, is cruel and unrelenting. She uses her tongue as a weapon, slicing the organ right through Shauna's veins. It isn't the real Jackie, yet this disingenuous version of her is easy to comprehend. Nevertheless, when Shauna lifts up her chin and stares Jackie in her vibrant hazel eyes, she begs for any remnant of the true Jackie.
Yet, when Jackie speaks, her voice isn't airy or gentle like speaking to a friend. No, it isn't even a resemblance of Jackie being hurt that one harrowing night. Even in Shauna's betrayal, the worst words she could think of were recited script. The verbatim of a movie, one that both of them used to watch together. Now, when Jackie speaks, she is tainted by Shauna's mind. So, it makes sense when she speaks harshly and brazenly.
"My compliant dog has nowhere to be," Jackie grins, tilting her head. She grips Shauna’s forearm, her fingers unnaturally cold against warm flesh. Her nails tap once, an uneven beat on Shauna’s skin. Perhaps a warning. Then, another beat. And another. A drumming of Jackie’s nails until they form a light scratch. It isn’t enough to produce blood. “Why not stay? Don’t you think you owe me that?”
"I had a dream," Shauna redirects, forcing distance between them. She sits down, curling her knees into her chest all while ignoring the flush settling on her cheeks. They were already rosy from the cold, it has to be that.
"About me?" Jackie sits down across from Shauna, mirroring her actions. She rests her chin in her hands, snowy eyelashes fluttering inquisitively.
"Mostly, yes."
“Aw you’re so obsessed with me. You can’t handle a dream, Shipman?”
"I'm worried it meant something." Shauna looks away. The heat on her cheeks breaks, traveling in different directions. Like the fuzzy legs of a spider, it tingles while it crawls down her neck. Then, upwards. The heat in her ears is so startlingly she thinks it might burst.
Between a dead person and someone so shielded off, the confession almost means nothing. Shauna, repressed and living, looks at Jackie with a frown. Jackie, dead but liberating, copies her movement with an exaggerated scowl. Perhaps now, in the depravity of Shauna's mind, Jackie is now her shadow instead of the reversed. It's so ironic- should be all she chalked it up to be, but it isn't.
It isn't at all.
"Well, did it?"
"I don't know," She rubs at her aching temple. "I'm trying to figure that out."
"You were never good at figuring things out," Jackie chuckles.
"I know that." She glowers.
"Do you?"
“What are you trying to say?” Shauna demands.
Jackie inches closer. “I mean,” She whispers. “Between you and me, and you and Jeff, you never were the brightest in figuring out what you wanted . Tell me, which did you want more? To be me or to fu-“
“Shut up,” Shauna strikes forward, palm colliding with Jackie’s faded lips. “I’ll make you shut up!”
Jackie, eyes betraying her mischief, shoves her hand away. “You never could figure it out,” She repeats, almost sing-songey. “Even now, you look petrified. Like some stricken fawn. All spotted and callow. But you’re not innocent, are you, Bambi? No, you think of me every single time when you’re with Jef-“
“Shut up,” Shauna wails. She’s desperate, some wounded lion clawing to escape the enclosure it’s trapped in. A caged animal never results in peace. Lashing out, she roughly shoves Jackie away. Her corpse topples over, a striking reminder of the true reality.
She’s dead, and Shauna is merely talking to herself.
"Shit," She mutters, scrambling over to inspect Jackie's corpse. She stiffly lays on her back like some doll meticulously placed there. But Shauna was never that careful. Even in Death, she is chipped by her recklessness. Hands cradling her head, Shauna gasps when she notices her missing ear. "Shit, shit, shit, fuck, no."
The gray ear lays inches away, nestled in the bed of moss. Tucked in like it was meant to belong there. "No, no, no, no- shit,” Shauna instantly reaches for it, curses tumbling from her lips. She tries to slot it back into place like a missing puzzle piece. But without her shaky hands holding it against Jackie's head, it won't stay still. No matter what angle she tries, it will not snap back onto the side of her head. Unsure of what to do, she tucks the ear into her pocket. She shoves it away like it is another secret between them.
"No," Shauna breathes. Her head inquisitively tilts, and her brown eyes widen like she is a dog. A puppy that knows it just did something wrong. The guilt consumes her, but there is also a jolt of hunger piercing her insides. Whether it's from the abrupt sight of Jackie, or the weeks of starvation nagging her hollow, is a mystery. Something that shouldn't be thought of any longer. “No, no, no, no, no.”
In an attempt to fix things, she tucks Jackie's one-eared corpse neatly against the wall. Her flesh is not malleable, it is rigid in nature. She is like a mannequin in some worthless store, and her limbs are stiff plastic that move upon demand. Her arms dangle lifelessly at her side, and her shoulders are unnaturally upright. It is an unnerving sight, and Shauna swiftly leaves the shed.
Haunted by what transpired, she does not return until tomorrow.