Righting serial wrongs

Things weren’t particularly different or interesting that day in Nirvana, but things quickly changed for him. Music played a little bit away, the tune so beautiful and so tragic Fred felt compelled to find the source. Floating down, he found that he was being drawn to something more physical and familiar — Earth. Fred was confused but partially excited, wondering if maybe he could try to continue his old life. Sure, his old life wasn’t exactly ideal, but Nirvana was definitely a hundred times more boring.

Fred tried to strain his ghost ears while he gravitated towards the sound, through the atmosphere and closer to the ground below, but it fell silent as soon as his transparent feet touched the soil. Fred didn’t recognize where he was, not at first, and had to refer to a nearby sign to get a better understanding for his surroundings. He floated to the park sign which read “Smithville Lake”. Fred looked around; expecting to see families but the wooded area was eerily silent. A crack of lightening popped in the distance, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the seconds. Trying to find his way out, Fred began to hover towards the clearing of the lake.

When he arrived, he spotted a figure holding a large item right by the water. Fred squinted, trying to see what the man possessed, but his supernatural sight failed him.

Fred watched the man continually look around him, which made Fred stay where he was. The figure dragged a nearby canoe to the lake, loaded his object inside before rowing out to the middle of it. The man then dumped the unknown item into the lake before rowing back in, and then disappearing into the trees.

Fred wasn’t sure what to do. Heck, he didn’t even know why he was here. A hawk screeched in the distance, causing him jump. Fred was never a brave man, but after being killed, he figured he had nothing to lose. He began to walk out towards the lake to see the thing the mysterious man dumped was already making its way back to shore. After further examination, Fred realized it was a black trash bag. Confused, Fred watched as the bag washed upon the shore line, wondering if the man was just not that big on recycling.

If Fred would have still had a heart, it would have stopped. An arm jerked out of the opening of the bag, bruised and gnarled, like taking a rope and twisting it as much as you could. The black opening was drawn back, revealing the face of the beautiful woman he saw at the barbeque joint. Her features were drastically different. Her once healthy skin seemed sickly and pale; her brown, luscious hair looked wiry and went in every direction. The only thing similar was her emerald eyes, yet this time, they were wide open. And they were looking right at Fred. He tried to back up, go right back up to Nirvana, but he could not move. Fred’s head began to spin and he closed his eyes, unable to remember the last time he felt this nauseous. A bloodcurdling scream sounded, but it wasn’t Fred’s.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself at Olathe Memorial Center. Rain was falling, and the sky was gray with sudden flashes of lightening. Another scream rang through the graveyard, and Fred looked to see a young girl clutching what looked to be her mother, watching as a preacher said final words. A small group was gathered, only about ten or eleven people, and Fred felt drawn once again to the center of commotion. He looked over the girl’s mother, who was also crying, to see the same dark haired beauty in the casket.

She looked different than when she was in the bag. Make-up was painted on her face and hands, trying to cover the marks of the grips on her wrists. The hair was tamed into a side braid, like she was not fighting and screaming for her life even in her last moments. The woman seemed completely transformed, until her same green eyes opened, and turned to watch Fred. Startled, he looked around at the family and friends, but no one seemed to notice the woman’s sudden rehabilitation. The preacher, still unaware, came over to the casket and shut it for the final time. The green cat-like eyes pierced Fred’s as the door was shut, locked, and slowly lowered into the ground. Fred had never understood why caskets locked, but he now wondered if it was because maybe some people refused to stay dead.

A chill ran up his spine as he realized that the relatives were not with him anymore, and he was all alone with the freshly dug grave. He floated forward, and read the name on the tomb.

Scarlett Anne McKinny

“That’s me.” A voice whispered behind him, enough to make Fred release a scream and spin around, face to face with the one and only green-eyed beauty.

“What are you doing?” Fred hissed “Aren’t you, well, dead?”

“Look who’s talking.” Scarlett crossed her arms “You’re not exactly breathing air either.”

“Exactly! Why am I out of Nirvana?” Fred didn’t know if there were any rules or if this would qualify as breaking them, but he felt nervous being back on Earth. All of the petrifying images of Scarlett he just viewed made him even more anxious to go back.

“Aren’t you sick of Nirvana, Fred?” she sighed “Look at the tombstone. What does it say? It say’s I’ve been dead fifteen years, and you know what? I’m sick of Nirvana. I want to go to the Pearly Gates.”

“What?” Fred blinked, not exactly following.

“You can’t just get to the Gates without doing anything Fred. You can’t leave wrongs the way they were. That man who killed me? He’s still out there. I could have done something simple as saving abandoned puppies to earn my way to the gates, but once I committed there was no going back.” Scarlett huffed, kicking at some dead leaves on the ground.

“And why am I here?” Fred asked, still confused. She looked down and fiddled with her ghastly hands.

“I was desperate. We can stop him, tonight even. No one is ever willing to help me, too afraid to commit to a lost cause. But it’s not, alright?” She sighed “I was the first victim, but not the last. This is the last chance we get.”

“And if we don’t succeed?” Fred challenged, Scarlett bit her lip.

“When attempting to kill him, or make things right, we become human again. If we’re killed again, game over. Hell is your eternal resting place.”

Fred felt shocked, but intrigued. He had never been able to do anything important back in his old life, maybe he could change that.

“Alright.” He nodded, her entire face lit up as she grinned.

“Really? We have no time to lose. He’s in his truck now, watching the empty roads. He’ll stay by the Olathe high schools, switching from South to North and sometimes Northwest as well, scouting out girls leaving school late.” Fred noticed her brief hesitation “That’s where he got me. We need to go, now.”

Scarlett grabbed Frank’s hand, ran towards an empty truck and climbed in. The girl drove hectically while night began to fall.

“How do you know where he is?” Fred asked, a little unsure of how this plan was going to work.

“A side effect of being murdered, you always know where your killer is. Every time he kills another innocent victim, I feel the pain.” She sighed, clicking her turn signal on. “There he is.” Scarlett slowed down to a stop. She wordlessly got out of the vehicle, and handed him a knife. She went up to the murderer’s truck parked on the side of the road. Fred peered into the truck bed, to find a shriek form in his throat. There were at least eight black bags.

Scarlett let out a screech on the other side of the truck, and Frank saw her in the hands of the murderer himself. Fred looked into her glowing eyes and saw only fear. The murderer looked up at Fred and pointed the pistol at Scarlett’s head.

“No!” Fred ran forward to tackle the man, hearing the bullet ring out. Fred felt blood, and realized it was from the man. He let go of him only to see a knife in the side and the life drain out of the murder’s eyes. They had done it, Scarlett was free.

“Fred!” Scarlett screeched, running over to him. Only then did he realize there was a bullet in his side. Tears flowed down her face, her green eyes pained.

“We did it Scarlett, you’re free.”

“No, Fred, but you’re dead, for good. This wasn’t worth it.” She screamed. He closed his eyes and smiled softly.

“That’s alright.” He said, and it was. Finally, he was able to do something important, and he finally felt free himself.

This story was originally published October 27, 2015 at 3:00 PM with the headline "Righting serial wrongs."