By Eddlynn Jennifer Mangaoang
Please do not repost or copy to another site. Thank you. Enjoy reading.
Trigger Warning! <Implied Torture, Murder, Implied Murder>
She gasps into consciousness and sits herself upright. In panic and a blurred vision, she scans the room for something - someone - but couldn't find it. She doesn't know what she's looking for. She doesn't understand... but she knows it's out there; in here, in this room. She positions herself in the middle of her bed, puts two big pillows on both sides, and tugs the blanket until she can curl the edge and tuck her feet protectively while protecting her head in a cocoon. The room's cold temperature adds to the chilliness she's feeling, and she shivers at the feeling of someone watching. She closes her eyes tightly and holds her breath, willing herself to sleep. When sleep is tugging at her consciousness and she's in a state of pure drowsiness, a cold touch - body - seems to enter her own and she loses consciousness.
She - not her, not her, not her! - finds herself running in a familiar redwood forest along the narrow Sweet Bark Lane that leads up to her newly purchased two-story cabin. But she's not on her way to the cabin, she seems to be going in the opposite direction, running as fast as she can although she can feel the burning pain of her lower legs' muscles, her arms swinging widely on her sides, swear runs her spine, her forehead, her whole body. All the while, she looks over her shoulder from time to time trying to gauge distance from something - someone - but couldn't clearly see. She gasps when, as she looks over once more, she feels her body collide with something big, soft, and - she looks up with fear in her eyes and the last thing she sees is a knife coming down at her.
She wakes up at five the next morning without the freshness a supposedly good night's sleep offers. There's a lingering feeling as she moves down the stairs to the small kitchen but doesn't understand what. As she's fixing oatmeal and coffee for herself, the light bulbs of her sconces blow up, shattering and falling down her tiled floor. Darkness envelops her, and she jumps when she hears water gush out from the faucet, the chairs mobilize themselves and make an aisle, and across her is the antique full-length mirror she bargained two months ago from swap meet shop in downtown Los Angeles. A woman in her mid-20s in mud-caked rubber shoes, bloody low-rise jeans, and equally blood medium-sized gree tee-shirt with Minnie Mouse print reflects. There's no head. She SCREAMS.
* * *
Alicia is worried. She does not mean to frighten her host to this extent. She hovers above the passed-out body for over two minutes not knowing what to do. If she can bite her nails right now, she's done so since earlier. Her host slowly comes to, and when she opens her confused eyes, Alicia does not know what to do but meets them.
"Wa-wa-wa!" her host is out of words and Alicia waves her hands in front of her in a panic.
Please don't freak out!" she says.
"Wa--," her host begins another round, but Alicia tries to keep her mouth shit by putting her palm right over it. Keyword: tries. It's fascinating seeing her whole arm goes through another person's head - but she's a ghost, this is just a piece of cake for her.
"Please. Please don't freak out. Please calm down." Alicia gestures toward the water dispenser. "Please get yourself a drink and calm down. When you're done, please talk to me. I'm sorry for frightening you." I thought it would be fun. She silently slants her mouth in a grimace.
"You, you, you," Alicia pities her host. She thinks she has broken her. She watches her host get herself some water, drinks brings the dustpan and broom and cleans up the mess from the broken bulbs. All done with a chilly silence. Alicia feels cold - her - because her host is giving her a cold shoulder. Alicia pouts but helps her out by putting back all the chairs and the mirror where she originally finds them.
Once her host is done cleaning up, she sits down and faces Alicia - her body, because she doesn't have a head anymore, "Who are you?" How come I hear you talk when you don't have a head?"
"I'm Alicia. I've been tortured and murdered in this cabin," Alicia sees her host shiver. "My killer has taken my head with him. He hasn't been put to prison yet. I need your help finding him. you can hear me because I've connected my soul in yours. For the moment."
She narrows her eyes," Anf why should I help you?"
"B-before I answer, can you please tell me your name?" Alicia doesn't like not knowing her host's name - knowing makes her closer with her host in many ways.
"You don't have the right to demand things." Her host's stare becomes more intense and she's now outright glaring at Alicia.
"I do. I do!" Alicia wails. "That man, he's going to kill someone again this year. Please, you need to help."
"How do you know?" She can see the doubt in her host's eyes as she purses her lips in disbelief.
"He starts stalking the cabin since you arrived. You. You met him." The shock on her host's face grows into fear. The chair screeches when she pushes it as she stands up and paces in front of Alicia.
"I met him, you say? Who? There's only --"
"I don't know his name. I just know how he looks like, and although I worry about any changes in his appearance since it's been twenty years now, I bet I can recognize him when I see him. I can't move on from this place without your help. You're the only one who's been compatible with my soul to the point that I can show what happened to me in tour dreams."
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