To Be Alive Again

MATT

The hotel's gargoyles beckoned me inside just as my agent sent another text demanding I call him. It was after my check-in time, but I still had to wait in the lobby. Decaying columns, cracked granite, and peeling paint were supposed to add to the Southern Gothic charm, but it only made me think of lead poisoning. I found the darkest corner after someone brought me a drink for my wait and flipped through my old messages with her.

My agent called again, the loud buzzing amplified for a moment. I declined before he could give me some pep talk about how my project will get the recognition it deserves in a different circuit. Forty minutes later, the same person slid my keycards on the table. I changed and scrolled through social media for any mention of my name. It was the same critic I’d seen a dozen times speculating about my old relationship and calling my project a ‘pretentious, narcissistic short pretending to be horror.’

The opening night mixer started already and I didn’t want to go, but there were free drinks and she'd be there. I took a stroll around and passed a shop with several tiny bottles in the window labeled with different cures. Dark amber glasses lined the walls, plump jars of herbs and unlabeled liquids were stacked on top another. Bones and Spanish moss hung from the threshold and a small bell rung as the door slammed behind me. An older woman with pale skin and wrapped hair paid me no attention as I picked up the small bottles.

"How much for the truth serum?"

"Depends on the buyer's intentions."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a tiny stone and bundle of herbs, tied and wrapped in red string.

"Just this then, I think my hotel room is haunted.”

She rang me up for the clearing spray with narrow eyes and a frown.

"Nothing good will come of it."

The streets had already filled up with mostly drunk bachelorette parties, the occasional group of artsy students clutching arms. Signs and searchlights in the sky guided me back to the packed Theatre lobby, littered with volunteers from the local college.

Finley stood across the room, sipping a bottle of water. He caught my eye and nodded, excusing himself from his group.

"Matt, what’s going on?" He clasped a hand around my back. "Heard about the snub and to your bitch ex, nonetheless—couldn’t be me. Speaking of the devil."

She waltzed through the double doors and the shimmering gold dress hovered just above the floor. Leave it to her to upstage everyone in the room as she exchanging kisses and too-long hugs. Finley left me to sulk in my corner as I waited to see at least one person I was supposed to talk to, but it was going to be hard to drum up support for another film when this one was dead in the water. Steph glanced over at my corner every few minutes, clutching the white stone in the shape of a dagger that hung off the gold necklace. As I walked over, she quickly dismissed the homely blonde in her vicinity and faked a smile.

"Matt, how are you?" She took a small step back.

"I guess congratulations are in order.” I leaned in and her sultry perfume eased that anger for just a second.

"How much have you had to drink?" I sucked my teeth before grabbing another drink from a passing waiter.

"Seriously, Matt. Maybe you should slow down. You know how you get."

"I just wanted to talk."

"Talk? I think you did enough of that when you led an entire smear campaign against me." She crossed her arms and stared past me.

"It was not a smear campaign. I was engaging in conversation with like-minded individuals."

Her laugh echoed through the room and every pair of eyes locked onto us for a moment.

"That’s what we're calling it?" She asked.

"Well, maybe if you just tell the truth about--"

"I don't have anything to lie about." She snatched her arm back, wiping at the spot where my hand had absent-mindedly wrapped around.

I held up my hands and took a step back. "Can we just talk like we used to?"

Her eyes met mine for a moment before she gestured to the door.. She walked outside and I followed into the crowd until we were in the hotel lobby. The bar that had once been empty was now filled. Some I recognized, most I didn't, but they seemed to recognize her just fine.

"Talk." She sat in the velvet chaise and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Someone came and took our orders, returning with a teapot and two cups. The tiny bottle burned a hole in my pocket. I fumbled with it for a second, tucking it into my sleeve. I cleared my throat and picked up the teapot, opening the lid and dumping the contents inside while someone congratulated her.

"I just think there may be some misunderstanding around what happened.”

She sighed. "What is there to misunderstand? Do you want me to pull up the screenshots? I am so tired of whatever bullshit you have going on." Her tone was low, but loud enough.

I poured tea in both of our mugs and only took a small sip before I spit it out. I gestured to her mug and she shrank into the chair before clutching the delicate handle. She took a small sip, then another. Small sugar cubes rested on a porcelain saucer. She dropped one into her cup and let out a breath. I studied her movements and weaved small questions into conversation, things she would have lied about in the past. I pressed record on my glasses, making sure the black sticker covered the light.

"Did you plagiarize your screenplay?”

"No, why would you think that?"

I gritted my teeth. "Was it inspired by another screenplay or story at all?"

She laughed, but her eyes had gone cloudy. "No, I never—" She cleared her throat and rubbed her temple. "Listen, I'm not feeling too well and I hate to end this fucking interview, but." She waved me off and stood, stumbling into the table.

I reached out to help her and instead of swatting my hand away, she took it for a moment and then quickly retracted it.

"I'll walk you to your room."

"Don't bother."

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

Her screening and panel were in a few hours; I wouldn't mind if she overslept. We took the elevator to the third floor. Her room was covered in papers and clothes, but the bed was spotless and a row of pill bottles were stacked on the nightstand.

"You can go now."

I stood in the corner and watched her drift out of consciousness, her fluffy curls against the pillowcase molded to her face. I waited around for a few minutes until she was fast asleep and rifled through the papers looking for anything damning. I glanced over to the bed to make sure she was still asleep.

"Steph."

I walked over, stepping over the pants and shirts, and tapped her leg. Her body was pale and limp. My mouth went dry as I held my hand beneath her nose—shit. I grabbed her key cards and went back to the lady's shop and banged on the window. She stood at the door and pointed to the closed sign.

“I need your help."

She smiled and shook her head. "I told you nothing good would come of it."

The people around us walked in droves, clutching their drinks. I waited for a break in the onslaught.

"She’s not breathing,” I mouthed.

Her face went slack as she pushed open the door and pulled me inside.

“Tell me you have something to bring her back.” I picked up jars and read descriptions of other tiny bottles.

She walked behind her desk and grabbed a sheet of paper, her bangles slapping against the wood as she scribbled away.

"Do not come back here,” she said as she folded the paper into my hand.

I left and followed the instructions on the paper. After several purchases, an ATM visit, and a car ride to the side of town where marsh and cemetery collided, I stood before a group of people donned in dark clothing.

"You’re going to bring her back, right?"

They stood at in front of the crumbling mausoleum as the sun disappeared. They didn't say a word, just took the money, the bag, and disappearing inside.

STEPHANIE

Wherever I was, it was lawless and somehow not worse than walking the Earth. It was New York City on a hot day when everyone is in a rush to get to the next air-conditioned place. Bodies, orbs, and shadows bumping into or walking through whomever and whatever.

I still hadn’t come to grips with the fact that I was dead—I suppose one never did, but Matt…My mother told me he’d kill me if I didn’t get out. I sat on the ground and let people pass around me as I thought of her smile. I tried to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Something pulled in the pit of my stomach like a rope wrapped around my intestines, pulling me into the ether.

"What happened to you?" A man with a large gash on his shoulder sat down beside me.

"Poisoned, I think."

He nodded like he knew the struggle.

“Is this hell?”

He laughed. “There's no heaven or hell. It's just this.”

“And how would you know?” I asked.

He shrugged before he stood and walked away, becoming another body in the crowd.

I rejoined the rush, stopping at each building. Every single one was the same. They towered into the sky with no end in sight and each one I peeked in held the tall mirrored walls and ceilings reflecting experiences back to each viewer. I ducked inside of one and shoved around and tried to find an empty space. I thought about Matt and he appeared before me clutching a cheap cellphone, pacing his hotel room. For a second, it felt like I was there, the smell of his cheap cologne permeated my nose.

"Quit hogging the—"

I pushed the man away, ignoring his curses, pressed my ear to the glass, and tried to listen to Matt's conversation.

"It's done?"

"What do you mean? Try harder."

My mirror faded from his hotel room to Mom's kitchen. She rubbed her back as she stood in front of the sink full of dishes. Then it was my best friend, at work, checking her phone. I stood and tried to touch the glass and fell into it, like I stepped through a sheer curtain.

The nothingness I imagined the afterlife would be had finally found me. I tried to breathe, but it was like dirt was buried in my nose and throat. My head pounded, and my stomach wretched and twisted. The darkness seeped into my bones, consuming everything I thought was gone. Soil crumbled through my fingers as I felt around. I reached through, pushing against the layer of darkness until I emerged. A train horn echoed in the distance, outside these cement walls. I stood, feeling my legs and body and hair, but something was missing. Something inside of me was no longer there.

Dirt tumbled back to the ground, the only space that wasn’t covered by stone. The human-sized hole was surrounded by etchings in a language I couldn't read. The place was empty save for a small vial of something I felt compelled to consume.

I drank it all. Blood coursed through my body like the lights were trying to turn back on, but kept fizzling out. The single burning candle went out as I passed and I had to feel around for the door. The night had settled in the cemetery. I breathed in every scent, the sweet osmanthus, the faint smell of sulfur, and freshly damp soil. I walked through the darkness until I came to a streetlight, the light went and then another as I passed. My bones ached as I trudged through the busy streets until the gargoyles were a few feet away.

"Where are your shoes?" Matt’s obnoxious friend asked me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," my voice left my mouth, far from this moment despite standing right here. "If you see Matt, can you tell him we need to talk?" I asked as I walked into the hotel.

“Of course."

My screening was in less than an hour. I got a new card from the front desk and showered Not Hell off of me. I studied my skin that hadn't returned to its usual self and tried to figure out why the hell I was back in this skin suit. My phone buzzed on its charger; my personal host, given to me by the festival organizers, called forty-six times.

In a new dress and actual shoes, I searched every corner for Matt. I should’ve just gone to his room, but I couldn’t risk being murdered again. They fussed over me, ushering me to step and repeats, the blinding lights above going in and out. Volunteers spoke into their radios, asking about the power outages.

The theatre's gilded ceiling were dull as I sat in the front row in my reserved seat. The movie played and I couldn’t bring myself to care, even as it ended an applause erupted. This was supposed to be my moment, but I didn’t feel a thing. I faked a smile and walked onto the stage. The bright light flickered, but didn't falter as I thanked my team and Mom. As I peered over the crowd, I hesitated, but held up the award, his presence seeping through the crowd.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of questions, photos, and flashes of his face. I sent him a message and found my way to the hotel rooftop. It was deserted, save for a few couples lingering around the heated lamps. Footsteps drew closer behind me as I stared at the street below.

"Steph, I didn’t mean to," his voice trailed off. "But I brought you back. They said it didn't work, but you’re here now. It's amazing, this could change everything."

He went on more excited and animated than he'd ever been in our two years of dating.

"You killed me."

I turned to him, his smile faded as he approached me, but I stepped away.

All the pain, anger, sadness seared that my body refused to feel until now, pumped through my body. "You killed me and had the nerve to bring me back like it's some fucking miracle."

He reached out to me and I pulled away.

"I hope you're happy."

The cold metal bar dug into my back as I leaned over the edge and let the wind part around me.