Chapter 4 Immortality is a Myth

The ghost spirit demon whatever thing leaned forward, hand outstretched. Makia screamed again. She backed up, stumbled and crashed into her bedroom door. It felt like the doorknob punched her in the kidney. “Augh!”

Keeping her eyes on the approaching ghost thing, she fumbled for the knob behind her back. She wrenched open the door, scurried into the adjoining living room and slammed the door shut.

Agatha hurried towards her to see what was wrong. Makia stood, wheezing, as she held the door closed.

“What happened? It looks like you saw Ellie or something.” Ellie/Elliot was the name for their imaginary ghost roommate.

Except, maybe she isn’t so imaginary, after all, Makia thought. “Yes! I mean, I did!” She pointed at the door. “I mean—there IS a ghost…or something—in there!” She backed away from the door. “O God, it probably doesn’t care about doors. It’s coming to get me, Ags!”

Agatha grabbed Makia by the arms and moved her away from the door. “Don’t worry; I know what to do.” She cracked her knuckles.

“I don’t think you can beat up a ghost, Ags…”

“No, I can’t. But I know someone who can.” She winked. “I’ve got back-up.”

“I’m serious, Agatha—this isn’t a joke! It’s real!” Makia tried to pull her friend back. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Ok. Ok.” Agatha tried to calm her friend down. “Just let me do this one thing, first. I’ve always wanted to try this.”

Agatha lifted both arms up in the air and shouted in a commanding voice, “In the name of Jesus, I banish you. Demon, leave this place!”

Makia gaped at her. “Are you serious right now?”

Agatha smiled. “Yes! It’s best to fight spirits with spiritual means, right?”

Makia shifted her gaze to the door. “I suppose that makes sense. But can we just…leave now?”

Agatha cracked open the door. “Not yet, I want to make sure it worked!” She opened it slowly at first, then swung the door open wide. No ghost spirit demon whatever thing to be found.

“I’ll be damned,” Makia said. “It actually worked. I’d still like to get out of here, though.” She leaned through the doorframe and peeked into her bedroom. Yep. Definitely empty. Her heart still raced, though. What if it comes back? Then she thought of something.

“Hey Ags—did you really believe me? I mean, you didn’t see the ghost or anything.”

Agatha frowned a little. “I don’t think that matters. What’s important is that you believed it, and you were terrified.”

“Yeah, I’m still scared.” She put a hand to her collarbone. “Let’s get out of this building for a while.” Then she remembered. “Dammit, Rex sounded like he was in trouble! We should check on him!” She hesitated. “Can you grab my phone?” Not moving, she pointed to her things on the bed.

Agatha grabbed the cell phone, and righted the fallen painting, which had fallen. “Hey, no figure in this painting yet—“ She looked with concern at Makia, who looked fearfully around her as she stood dead center in the middle of the living room. “Makia, do you think all that painting is getting to you? I worry about you with all those paint fumes in there.” She shut the bedroom door, as if to keep said fumes contained. “I think we should air this place out when we get back.”

Makia shook her head. “You heard the crazy in 405. He saw the same thing!”

Agatha put a forefinger to her chin. “So…you saw the same thing the crazy guy did…I don’t think that helps your argument.” She put an arm around her nervous friend. “Just saying.”

Makia looked up at her. She felt like a permanent lost cause. Why is Ags always saving me from myself? She looked at the floor and nodded. “I guess you’re right. But, still, let’s go.”

Agatha squeezed her shoulder before letting go. “Ok, you got it.” She looked around the apartment. “But, hey, my exorcism worked! Look, no baddies lurking in the corners now.”

She knew Ags was kidding, but her friend looked a little overly proud at this; Makia figured she was half-joking. Well, it seems to be gone for now anyway. Thank God for that.

Honestly, Makia couldn’t get out of that place soon enough. She grabbed her purse, keys and swung open the front door to leave.

But...there, just on the other side of the doorframe, stood a handful of the ghost spirit demon whatever things. Ags didn’t get rid of the spirits, they just moved. Fuck! Makia slammed the door shut again. This time, Agatha screamed.

“What was that?” Agatha stepped back and grabbed at the cross pendant she always wore.

“I told you,” Makia said. The image of the ghosts burned in her head. “I know you didn’t believe me, but I think whatever you did, actually worked. At least they’re staying out.”

“For now.” Agatha added. “Who knows how long exorcisms last? Do you think they wear out?”

Makia shouted, “You tell me! I’ve never done one before!”

Agatha bit her lip. “Me, either. Until now, that is.” She tapped a manicured nail to her chin.

Makia felt a rush of relief that Agatha was with her. Then she felt a rush of guilt. I hate that she’s going through this, too, but…I don’t know what I’d do on my own. O, wait, sure I do: I’d collapse in a corner, curl up in a ball and rock myself into oblivion.

Her friend’s voice broke through Makia’s reverie. “No, it’s not your fault. And no, don’t self-destruct. We’ll get out of this, somehow…”

She knows me so well, Makia thought, and not for the first time. She remembered when they met at college orientation; Makia had been her usual, awkward, anxiety-ridden self, which meant she mingled by standing alone in the corner with a complimentary cookie and a cranberry Tropicana.

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Agatha was the one to notice she was all alone. Makia still remembered her surprise when the tall, well-coiffed blonde strode over to her to reach out her hand. At first, Makia thought they’d have nothing in common, but their shared love of Anime and dark humor soon made them fast friends.

“Earth to Makia.” Agatha’s voice pulled her out of the past. “Snap out of it.”

Makia covered her face. “What do we do? God, it’s all my fault! I think.”

“Why do you think everything’s your fault?” Agatha snapped. “Instead of blaming yourself, use that super-bright brain of yours to get us out of here. There’s only one door out, and I, for one, don’t want to walk through ghost demon whatever things to escape, do you?”

Makia shook her head, no. She felt guilty again. That’s right; I haven’t told Ags about the voice messages or anything. She doesn’t know my paintings are somehow the cause of all this…“Do you think they’re still there? Maybe they moved on.”

“Only one way to find out. I guess they can’t come in to hurt us anyway, or they would have by now.” Agatha strode to the apartment door and opened it, then reflexively jumped back before she could close it again.

There were three white ghost spirit demon whatever things on the other side of the doorway, peering in with empty eyes.

The ghost spirit demon whatever thing on the left fixed its non-eyes at Agatha. “That was hurtful.”

Another spirit thing chimed in with a static-like rasp. “We’re not demons. We have feelings, too, you know.”

Wow. They’re oddly polite for monsters that sneak out of the darkness to maul people, Makia thought. She stepped behind Agatha a little. Damn it, why do I always make her do everything first?

Makia spoke up. Time to stop hiding. “Why are you doing this? Why are you in my paintings?” She demanded, as she peered from behind her friend. Makia saw Agatha register this in her face. Ok, now she knows. I hope she doesn’t hate me for this.

The ghost spirit thing with the terrible, sweet voice that sounded like cursed chimes answered. “We need a way out.”

“Of the building?”

“Yes. We are dying again.” The ghost spirit thing said, flickering a little.

What are they? Makia thought. It was hard to define, somehow, or even focus on. “I thought ghosts were immortal.”

“Immortality is a myth.” The static-voiced figure replied. Makia could not get over how…empty they looked.

“Immortality is a myth,” It repeated. “Even if the body lives forever, the soul wears down, fades.”

Agatha spoke up now. “Ok, so why are you all here? What do you want from us?”

The first ghost chimed in. Makia thought she sensed a smile, even though it didn’t seem to have a mouth. “We have been trapped in the building because we died here. Tanith promised us immortality…and at first gave it, but—even when the when the body lives on, the soul withers and dies.”

“So we ended what we sought to preserve,” added the ghost spirit in the middle.

“Now,” the static-voiced one continued, “Our souls continue on without bodies to support, but they, still, need nourishment, or they will thin beyond repair.”

The sweet voice chimed back in, “Touching the living restores some of our energy, and memory, too. But there is a cost. Do you have a memory to spare?” It held a white hand up to the doorway, and rested it, palm out, like it was pressed against glass that wasn’t there.

The one in the center tried to reach through the doorway, but was blocked. “Just a little one will help. You won’t miss it.”

Agatha stepped back, shoving Makia farther behind her. “Hey, I don’t think so. This isn’t like asking your neighbor for a cup of sugar. I like my memories…most of them, anyway.”

Makia thought about what they said. They were dying, again. And since her paintings were a part of all this, she felt responsible, somehow. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Agatha whirled to face her. “Are you nuts? We don’t know what those things are!” She positioned herself between Makia and the doorway. “You don’t wan’t to lose part of your brain, do you?”

“Actually, I do.” Makia looked down at the tattered rug on the floor. “I mean, not my brain, no. But a a memory? Yes. I have a few I’d like to part with.”

Agatha, for once, was at a loss for words.

Makia slipped past her and pressed her palm against the ghost’s. “You can take the one I’m thinking of now.” She stared into its empty eyes. “Please. Take it now, and go.”

She felt like she had been struck by lightening, and in a flash, she was back in the one place she didn’t want to be: the past.

At the age of six, it was hard to hide somewhere she couldn’t be found, but she tried. There was a special place in the church no one could find her. She hoped. She ran up the stairs to the choir loft and circled around the large pipe organ to the other side. In the back, she knew she could find a small, utility door. It was her secret spot. Or so she hoped. Cracking the door open, she crawled in, and shut the small panel behind her. Mom wouldn’t know. She wondered how long she could make herself stay in the cramped, dark space. It was comforting, if not comfortable. She was pretty sure no one would find her in there. In the dark, she felt for a box of things she had hidden away. Blindly fingering the edges, she found the lid and dove her hand inside—there…she found it: a candle for mass. She took it out and placed it in her lap. Then she rummaged again until she found a box of matches. Once she had that in hand, she struck one, ruined it. Struck another—it blazed instantly. She lit the thin taper and balanced it against a small block of wood a corner of the tight space. There, that’s better. She stayed in there for hours. No need to come out, ever come out. No one would believe her, so what was the point? The candle burned, and dripped, burned, dripped and diminished. The air was heavy in there. She closed her eyes and fell into darkness…and awoke to heat, screaming and light. The screaming was her, she thought. The candle was gone, or rather the world was a candle and everything around her was its flame. She lay low, but the smoke stifled her breath, singed her eyes, tainted her skin. She crawled, crawled and found the little door, the door that always provided escape from the outside in—would it let her escape the other way, too? She needed air. It seemed unfair to be trapped in here, her only haven. Was this the anger of God? Would He save her? They always said you had to call out to be saved, so she did…” O God…” She kicked the door open and crawled out. The majestic pipe organ was ablaze and keened in painful notes as it breathed its last. I’ve killed it, I’ve destroyed the refuge, my castle of dreams, how can I manage now….she coughed, and staggered down the stairs. Her mom found her. She always did. There was no going back now. “Makia,” her mom said, cradling her in her arms as the fire trucks came. “It’s all right. No one has to know.” She led her away to the old sedan, to home. “It’s all right. We’ll go home now. You won’t have to leave again. I’ll keep you safe. So safe.” And she knew she was going back. This time, it would be for a long time. It would be harder to get out, harder to convince her mother to let her out. She closed her eyes from the thought of the windowless room where anyone could come in and out but her, where the only windows were framed pictures of landscapes, where…

“Makia? O God, Makia, are you all right? Please be all right…” Agatha called out her, shaking her hard. Makia opened her eyes. The ghost spirit demon things were gone. She had the feeling she had the most awful dream, but she couldn’t remember what it was about. She felt lighter, but somehow, robbed, too.

“Makia—thank goodness! I’m getting you out of here now.” Agatha pulled her upright and standing. Makia wobbled a little. I finally did it. I was finally the brave one. For once.

Then her phone rang. Rex! She yanked it from her pocket and answered it breathlessly, “Rex? Are you ok?”

But it was Enzo. “Makia, dear, I have to ask you about that painting of yours. I was working late, and well, I noticed it looked different now. Did you add to it today when I wasn’t looking somehow? I swear there was only one figure in it when I bought it. But now the ghost has a friend, I think.” Oh, no…not Enzo…

She struggled to remain calm, but managed to talk somewhat normally. “Enzo, are you still at work? Home? good, stay there—-I’m going to stop by work tonight. Yes, I know it’s late. I forgot something. I’ll tell you about the painting later ok?”

She hung up. “Ags, before we go…I know you gave up smoking, but do you still have your lighter? I think I’m gonna need it.”