at me.
And she’s smirking.
Smirking at me.
I don’t say anything. I don’t even know for sure if she can see me, but if she can’t, I’d be surprised because she sure looks like she can see… something… with her big ole white eyes and terrifying grimace. Grimace is a good word. Much better than smirk.
She’s grimacing in my direction.
I just stay still in case she’s not looking at me.
I can live in denial.
I’ve lived here for years.
I concentrate on the room. It’s tangible and not terrifying, except it sort of is. Like the street, it’s in black and white. Well, more gray scale. Truth be told, it looks a lot like the house on Beetlejuice when Beetlejuice got a hold of it and turned it weird-er. It’s gray, but a sharper gray and sharper angles and just weird. It’s weird.
Weird isn’t a good word for this.
It’s so much more than weird.
“It looks strange to you, doesn’t it?” When she speaks, it sounds like me, only way weirder. Like my voice has gone through one of those synthesizers the musicians use. Her voice is deeper than mine, but more musical. It’s like if an angel and a demon had a baby. I suppose that’s exactly what happened, didn’t it?
I don’t answer. I don’t know if she can hear me or see me or if she just assumes I’m here. I figure the best thing to do is just be quiet and see where this takes me. I move toward the stairs. And her eyes don’t follow me. That’s good. It means something. Not sure what, but something. Maybe it means she can sense me, but she can’t see me. Thank goodness for small, basic favors.
The steps don’t squeak when I put my foot down. It doesn’t make any sound. I just now notice that. Because I’ve sort of been focusing on all the other weirdness and strangeness and, oh yeah, death. I don’t seem to make any noise. Like any. Ever. I just sort of move around like a ghost, but I don’t feel like a ghost.
I’m cold.
Like that’s anything new. I’m always cold, or I was before I turned into the almost abomination thing. Until I drank all the demon blood.
I miss it.
The demon blood.
I know it sounds weird to say.
It should sound weird to hear.
I miss the demon blood.
I miss the feeling it gives me.
I feel like I’m a person and not a thing floating around in this gray ether. This gray Beetlejuice movie.
Well dang, I’ve said Beetlejuice three times… he has to come and do something now. Hell, maybe he will. He could come out for all I know. Or maybe I’m him.
I don’t feel dead. Then again, I’m not sure how I’d feel if I were dead.
My body’s not dead.
I don’t look dead.
But Sam didn’t either. When he was in Hart’s body. He was alive. So my body is alive, and I’m watching it do all kinds of things like just standing there and staring.
I feel like I should be freaking out. And I am. I think I am. I believe I am.
I’m also, I don’t know… calm somehow.
I don’t know how I’m calm.
I know that the world is ending.
I know I’m the cause of it.
But I think there’s a different feeling now that I know it’s my body, not me . Not really. I’m here. I’m standing, very silently, on the stairs. She’s there. The Abomination. She’s got my body, but she’s not me.
Maybe she’s part of me.
I don’t know how any of this works, but I feel slightly better knowing that it’s not me in control. Like maybe I have a chance to stop her.
Except I have no damn idea how.
I can’t even touch anything.
I’m not even entirely sure how I ended up here. I closed my eyes and, bam, here I am.
With her.
With me.
She tilts her head to the side like she’s listening for something.
“I know you’re here, Gracen. I can feel you. Funny, I can’t feel anything… but I can feel you. I guess we’re connected.”
I want to say, “Probably because you are wearing my body,” but I don’t. I’m afraid to talk because if I do, she might hear me, she might find me and then where would I be? I remember
And she’s smirking.
Smirking at me.
I don’t say anything. I don’t even know for sure if she can see me, but if she can’t, I’d be surprised because she sure looks like she can see… something… with her big ole white eyes and terrifying grimace. Grimace is a good word. Much better than smirk.
She’s grimacing in my direction.
I just stay still in case she’s not looking at me.
I can live in denial.
I’ve lived here for years.
I concentrate on the room. It’s tangible and not terrifying, except it sort of is. Like the street, it’s in black and white. Well, more gray scale. Truth be told, it looks a lot like the house on Beetlejuice when Beetlejuice got a hold of it and turned it weird-er. It’s gray, but a sharper gray and sharper angles and just weird. It’s weird.
Weird isn’t a good word for this.
It’s so much more than weird.
“It looks strange to you, doesn’t it?” When she speaks, it sounds like me, only way weirder. Like my voice has gone through one of those synthesizers the musicians use. Her voice is deeper than mine, but more musical. It’s like if an angel and a demon had a baby. I suppose that’s exactly what happened, didn’t it?
I don’t answer. I don’t know if she can hear me or see me or if she just assumes I’m here. I figure the best thing to do is just be quiet and see where this takes me. I move toward the stairs. And her eyes don’t follow me. That’s good. It means something. Not sure what, but something. Maybe it means she can sense me, but she can’t see me. Thank goodness for small, basic favors.
The steps don’t squeak when I put my foot down. It doesn’t make any sound. I just now notice that. Because I’ve sort of been focusing on all the other weirdness and strangeness and, oh yeah, death. I don’t seem to make any noise. Like any. Ever. I just sort of move around like a ghost, but I don’t feel like a ghost.
I’m cold.
Like that’s anything new. I’m always cold, or I was before I turned into the almost abomination thing. Until I drank all the demon blood.
I miss it.
The demon blood.
I know it sounds weird to say.
It should sound weird to hear.
I miss the demon blood.
I miss the feeling it gives me.
I feel like I’m a person and not a thing floating around in this gray ether. This gray Beetlejuice movie.
Well dang, I’ve said Beetlejuice three times… he has to come and do something now. Hell, maybe he will. He could come out for all I know. Or maybe I’m him.
I don’t feel dead. Then again, I’m not sure how I’d feel if I were dead.
My body’s not dead.
I don’t look dead.
But Sam didn’t either. When he was in Hart’s body. He was alive. So my body is alive, and I’m watching it do all kinds of things like just standing there and staring.
I feel like I should be freaking out. And I am. I think I am. I believe I am.
I’m also, I don’t know… calm somehow.
I don’t know how I’m calm.
I know that the world is ending.
I know I’m the cause of it.
But I think there’s a different feeling now that I know it’s my body, not me . Not really. I’m here. I’m standing, very silently, on the stairs. She’s there. The Abomination. She’s got my body, but she’s not me.
Maybe she’s part of me.
I don’t know how any of this works, but I feel slightly better knowing that it’s not me in control. Like maybe I have a chance to stop her.
Except I have no damn idea how.
I can’t even touch anything.
I’m not even entirely sure how I ended up here. I closed my eyes and, bam, here I am.
With her.
With me.
She tilts her head to the side like she’s listening for something.
“I know you’re here, Gracen. I can feel you. Funny, I can’t feel anything… but I can feel you. I guess we’re connected.”
I want to say, “Probably because you are wearing my body,” but I don’t. I’m afraid to talk because if I do, she might hear me, she might find me and then where would I be? I remember
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