Crows in a nearby poplar were laughing at me, for the hell of it. They cackled, cawed and chuckled like humans tend to do from time to time, when they lay eyes on an unfortunate soul. The best thing about being dead is that these types of things don’t get to you anymore. I’m still alive though.
Everything was wet. The air smelled of minerals and the streets were mirror surfaces. The sky above churned as the laminated leaves gathered raindrops. The door was dry; the awning had kept it so. I reached out to tentatively touch it. Curled emerald paint chips broke from the door’s surface and fell like wounded butterflies until they lay still on the rotting porch floorboards. The painted flecks sat there only a moment, until the wind carried them off someplace to expire. I started to knock.
“Open up!”
It had been pouring all morning and hadn’t let up. I was soaked through to the skin. My bruises ached. My cuts were bloated and burned hot.
My thoughts were jumbled. So much had happened and I was running out of time to figure things out. I put my hands against my temples where I could feel the rhythmic thumping of blood pushing its way through. I massaged my head in attempt to strain the fragments of thought floating in cerebral soup. It didn’t help.
It’s possible to see enough real life that you’ll want to put your eyes out. I ran my hands over my face and then held them out in front of me; they were trembling. Looking at the old door in front of me, my mind started to recede to some other place. I shook my head. Maybe it was the paint chips, or maybe I had taken the wrong blow to the head and my synapses fired strangely at that moment. Maybe I was just really tired or just overexposed and cold from the rain. Maybe I was just finally realizing that human life is just that fragile, even my own.
I knocked again, this time harder.
“Open up, Tracy!”
I heard her footsteps. The latch turned and the door gave way, releasing just a sliver of light. The smell of stale tobacco skulked through the opening and hit my face harder than any knuckles I’d ever taken. She peeked through the crack. I could see the years tattooed on her face. She squinted back at me without recognition in her eyes, but that lasted only a moment until she looked into mine. My eyes were my fingerprints.
“What do you want, William?”
It felt like a lifetime since I had heard her say that name.
“Just a bed for a few hours.”
She studied my face. If the apparent scabs and bruising moved her, she did not show it. A cigarette hung loosely from her lips and the ash was in need of attention.
“It’s been almost seven years,” she said questioningly, but with little enough interest that did not request a response. Then her composure changed and she looked at me hard, her eyes speculative.
“Look, I’m not here for money. I’m just tired, you know? I could use some rest for a little while. I don’t need anything else.” I shuffled a bit on the doorstep.
She didn’t speak. She just looked me over again and opened the door all the way. I took the opportunity and stepped inside.
The place looked the same as my memory of it. Seven years hadn’t done much; the carpet looked a little older and the ghost image burned on the television screen was a little more obvious. The aged brown sofa beached in front of it had stains and cigarette burns riddled throughout the upholstery. I reminded myself I didn’t look much better.
“You know the way.” She motioned with her arm as she sat back down and stubbed out her cigarette on the TV tray beside the sofa. She lit another. Languid smoke still coiled upwards from the dead cigarette.
She didn’t look at me and resumed watching whatever was on TV like I wasn’t there. She had changed into her Form, a grey raccoon. For as long as I had been able to see these things, I noticed that most people’s Forms were grey and hers was no different. Then I caught the smell of them; in the corner of the room, two Shrikun stood motionlessly, poised, as they knew her time was soon and greys had always been easy to convert to black. One of the Shrikun looked at me and smiled, if you could call it that. Raccoons are common animals and common animals always made the best Forms for the Shrikun to acquire. They could be used more often than the more unique animals. They were less conspicuous and therefore more desirable.
I looked back at Tracy, who had reverted to herself again. In the corner, the Shrikun were gone. I made my way upstairs.
I sat on the corner of the bed and pulled off my wet shirt. The diluted stains of blood and grime had mixed into a dark mahogany colour. I hung it on the bedpost to dry and pulled my socks off. The air felt cool against my feet, which had pruned from being wet all morning. I laid the socks on the edge of the old dresser and did the same with my wet jeans and boxer shorts.
I stood up and studied my body for the first time in three days. I had two long cuts, one across my stomach and the other down the middle of my left side. Both weren’t deep and had closed. I pulled three small shards of glass from just above my hipbone and set them on the night table. Blood slowly filled the wounds. I had bruising all along my left arm and could feel others along my back. My right thigh had also sustained a cut, although I couldn’t remember the source. As I mentioned, so much had happened.
There was a small mirror on the dresser, and I picked it up to look at my face. I didn’t look good; it wasn’t just that I hadn’t slept in three days, it was worse. I set the mirror down and sat back on the edge of the bed. The clock on the night table told me it was mid-afternoon.
I opened my eyes again at four in the morning. I didn’t remember lying down and my body ached as I sat up. The room was dark. The sun had quit and the moon had forgotten to show up for its shift.
I made fists with my hands a couple of times. I stood up and reached for my shirt. It had dried and smelled foul. As I pulled it over my head, I realized the sleep hadn’t helped much with the pain, but then I hadn’t expected a miracle. Still, my head was clear and that was the thing that mattered most. My socks had coiled awkwardly as they dried, and felt abrasive as I pulled them over my feet. My jeans were still completely damp.
I went to the washroom and took a piss. I spat in the sink and turned on the water, running my hands underneath the faucet. I cupped my hands to splash a little water on my face and ran my cold wet hand over the back of my neck. There wasn’t much in the rusty medicine cabinet; a tube of old toothpaste and some bandages (which I used) were the only indications of personal hygiene. There were also a few loose razorblades and I picked one up and checked the blade edge with my fingertip. It was still sharp. I pocketed the metallic rectangle as I knew it would work perfectly.
Coming down the steps, I saw Tracy was still watching the television and it didn’t look like she had moved at all since earlier that afternoon. Did she not sleep anymore? I stopped a moment and looked around again. I could feel my past life crawling like cockroaches behind the old manila-coloured walls.
I slipped on my shoes and went for the door. As Tracy got up from her chair, I quickly tied my laces, then stood up and looked at her standing in front of me. A part of me wanted her to say something. She didn’t.
“Thanks,” I offered.
Her face stiffened when I said it, but then softened, surprisingly. I hadn’t said it in a long time, not to her, not to anyone. She knew this was the last time she would see me and looked me in the eyes. She then turned away and headed towards the kitchen. And that was that. I opened the door and left.
Out on the porch, the temperature had warmed and the early morning air was stagnant and humid. The rain had stopped but everything was still wet and heavy. My stomach barked at me. Just another thing, I thought, staring out into the foggy dawn. Outside, there were no sounds at all and for a moment, I knew peace. Then I heard the door open behind me. I turned around and Tracy was standing there in the doorway.
“Open your hand, William,” she said softly.
I did as I was told and my mother handed me an apple.