Dead Sisters Society – by Stix Eris
Hours pass before someone spots her lying in a field- knees knocked together, one bent at an impossible angle. Her head is crooked to one side, eyes wide but vacant. Her hair is sprawled out in all directions. She notices the split ends and the roots growing in. Why did no one told her that her hair looks like that? She is within her body and without, both staring up at the sky and looking down at her body. A fly lands on her open eyeball- glassy and lifeless, almost grey. She wills herself to shoo it away- wills her muscles to move, even the slightest bit. And yet, they feel millions of miles away- like her limbs are covered by thousand pound weights. In the distance, she can hear the sounds of the harvest festival- children’s laughter and rusty rollercoasters.
She really never thought that this was the last town she’d see. Up until the end, she dreamed of Denver or Portland. Even Gatlinburg was better than here. Somewhere with more life. Not this sleepy little town, full of people who couldn’t get out of each others business. But now… well, maybe it wasn’t as bad as she originally thought.
A baseball, thrown too far from the nearby park, lands near her calf. She recognizes the boy, little Kevin McCraney, from the around the block. He picks up the ball, pleased with himself until he catches a glimpse of the corpse in front of him. The ball slips from his fist and onto the bed of grass below. A scream that could shatter glass rises from his throat.
“Daddy! Daddy! There’s a-there’s a- ” His blubbering gets farther and farther away as he bounds back to his father.
As the multitudes of ambulances, police cars and firetrucks arrive, the town seems to take notice. It becomes a morbid parade of concerned citizens, nosy neighbors and strangers who claim to know her. Most of them, shocked or tearful. After a while, she grows tired of hearing “she was so young” and “I can’t believe this happened here…in our little town.”
What shocks her most of all is the appearance of the oldest Williams boy, Lucas. She’s known him since they were children. They always liked each other but neither ever made a move. Louis abandons his bike. It topples to the ground, one wheel spinning, as he runs over to the police barriers and the officers hold him back. He’s trying to get to her. She doesn’t know why.
She can’t stay to figure it out. Something pulls at her like a magnet, beckoning her to leave her body. She has only a moment to look back- to see her sleepy town beginning to be swallowed by the mist; to see the police bent down over her body; neighbors crowding around the caution tape- her mother among them.
And then it’s gone and she is surrounded by the mist. It isn’t cold- like she thought it would be. It’s heavy though- as if she’s trudging through mud. She doesn’t know what she’s walking towards- just that she must walk. She swears she can see faces emerging in the mists. At first, they are almost imperceptible from the swirling fog around her. Maybe it’s her imagination. Or perhaps this is what happens- you walk until you become one with the fog. Curious, she reaches out and glides her fingers through the clouds as they pass.
Time no longer has meaning. She walks for minutes, hours, days, weeks. She loses track. She can almost feel time warping over her, covering her like a sheet that has been stretched beyond recognition. It feels silly, now, how important time used to be. The terror of being late for school or missing a dinner reservation feels so mundane to her now.
Maybe I’m dreaming.
She moves to pinch herself and doesn’t feel the pressure. Her limbs feel numb- nonexistent. Even the inkling of sensation she felt in the field is long since gone. Her body has left the building and, if it wasn’t directly underneath her, she’d assume she was just a floating brain with eyeballs or one of those cheesy cartoon sheet ghosts. The fog begins to lift. Slowly, at first, until she can see the trees around her. She knows this place well. The woods behind her high school. Not five feet away, where she had her first kiss. Several yards past, the bush where she retrieved the lost volleyball during practice.
She looks to her right and tumbles backwards. There is a shadowy shape standing a few feet away- stock still. They’re wearing a vintage style mask- crudely painted on a plastic mold. This one is painted like a doll- with tiny red lips and rosy circles on its cheeks. She holds her breath- even if her lungs couldn’t expand if they tried.
After a few seconds, she musters up the courage to walk up to it. She reaches out to touch it but stops short. By all counts, the shape is human. Or was, at one point. She can tell from the velvety texture of the skin, the soft folds and wrinkles of the clothes they’re wearing that whoever it was- they were alive once.
She notices another figure a few feet away. And another. Six of them. All in a line. Equidistant. Each wearing a mask: a witch, a clown, a skeleton, a vampire, a ghost. All of them seem completely frozen in time. She clutches her chest, still stunned. She no longer has a heartbeat- but still responds as if it’s racing in her rib cage. She peels her eyes away from them, trying to calm herself with the familiar sight of her school in the distance.
When she looks back, the witch has moved a few inches toward her. It’s subtle, but noticeable. Terror rises in her throat. She searches for somewhere to escape- anywhere- and when her eyes meet the figures again, they’ve all turned their necks to look directly at her.
She tumbles backward and turns to sprint off toward her school, nearly tripping on an exposed root. She’s keeping her eyes on the door to the south hallway- the same one she smoked her first cigarette next to during fifth period. She shoves branches out of her way, jumps over stumps in her path. It’s as though the forest is closing in around her, trying to prevent her escape.
She dares to look behind her to find the masked figures in hot pursuit- too close for comfort. A scream tears from her lips. She pushes her legs harder, feeling a phantom burn in her shins as the wind whips past her face. She reaches the door and hurls it open.
She bounds into the first room she can find. Luckily for her, film class has a massive closet to hold various tapes from years prior. She presses herself into the farthest corner and closes the door behind, just as her assailants burst through the back door. She stands as still as possible, remembering when she worked in the William’s family haunted house one autumn and how she had to stand super still before delivering her scares. She remembers how Lucas told her just to breathe, quiet her mind and convince herself that she can move as much as she wants- she’s just choosing not to.
It helped back then- but only because it wasn’t life or death. Or, in this case, after-life and…whatever came after that. She shuffled gently in her spot, wondering if there was another realm after this one. Maybe this was just the lobby- a waiting area for reflection before the real afterlife began. She’d want it to look like a house party- full of never-ending beer in red solo cups and plenty of laughter as old friends reunited and new lovers kissed in the corner. She imagines sitting on the countertop, shooting the shit with a bearded god in a pristine white robe whose laugh would cause earthquakes.
Instead, however, she’s stuck in the same closet the seniors would use for impromptu make out sessions during the homecoming dance.
The door creaks open, she shuts her eyes tight as the footsteps echo through the room, scuffs on the linoleum floor. They stop in front of her, making shadows under the crack of the door. Its silent for a moment and she’s certainly she’s been found. She peruses her options, deciding that she’ll have to jam them in the eyeball with her elbow and then shove them backward so she can rush past. But she’s counting on there only being one of them. If it’s the whole group, there’s no way she’ll be able to make it to the door without being caught.
To her surprise, however, the footsteps recede and disappear all together. She sits there for a few minutes, assessing the risks of revealing herself too soon. But once she finally cracks the closet open, she finds the room completely empty. Relief floods her empty body as she tiptoes through the classroom and back into the silent hallways.
She plots her next move. She needs a room with a lockable door- preferably with some windows she can climb out of. The best option is the gym. She only knows it locks because a couple of her friends broke in after prom to drink and fuck around. She remembers how Billy Samson tried to feel her up and came back with a black eye.
Suddenly, down the way, the cafeteria doors burst open and several of the figures come flooding out. They’re coming directly for her. She tears through the adjacent hall at full speed. They’re right behind her but she can’t bring herself to look. She swears she can almost hear them panting.
The gym doors come into view. She crashes through them to find metal chairs, arranged in a circle, just like the AA meetings her mom used to go to. And there, sitting in the chairs, are the six figures. She looks behind her to find the hallway completely empty- as if there was never a chase to begin with. As if on cue, they all swivel their heads in her direction. She’s about to spin on her heel and make her escape when he witch, clearly the ringleader, stands up and starts to clap. Slowly. The other ones follow suit.
“Well done,” The witch says. She pulls off her mask to reveal a glamorous woman with a finger wave hairstyle. She wears a gorgeous flapper gown that glitters in the moonlight drifting through the windows. A gnarly scar runs over her lips and all the way to her earlobes. “Come, join us,” She smiles, gesturing towards an empty seat.
The girl starts to back away.
“Wait!” The vampire pops up, unmasking herself. She’s a cute ginger with 1960’s style flip hair. She’s wearing a scarf around her neck. “It’s okay. We’re just like you. I promise.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.” She mutters, under her breath.
“We had to make sure you were one of us,” The flapper woman says, smiling, and, despite its grisly appearance, it’s surprisingly warm. “I’m Elizabeth,” She says. “This is Kitty.” The other girl curtsies playfully. “And these are the Sisters.” As if on cue, the other girls take off their masks. There’s a woman dressed in traditional pilgrim garb- the hem of her dress completely charred and rope burn marring her wrists. Next to her, a victorian woman with pale makeup who, upon closer inspection is missing her intestines. She keeps rubbing her midsection absentmindedly, as if she’s embarrassed.
On the other side of the circle, there is a busty blonde in a tight red swimsuit cut in a classic 80’s style with white leg warmers and matching socks. She inspects her nails, clearly disinterested. To her right, is a young girl- in a poofy dress with a crown on her head- slightly askew. She’s casually swinging her legs from the chair which is much too big for her.
“Is that…?” She points to the girl.
“Suzie Belle Grady? Famous child actress and picture perfect pageant girl?” Kitty nods. “Sure is.” Suzie offers an enthusiastic wave.
“So…what is this, exactly?” The girl asks, finally taking the empty seat.
“We call it the Dead Sisters Society. Every girl you see here was brutally murdered. The authorities knew it. The coroners knew it. Our families knew it. And yet…” Elizabeth grimaces. “Nothing was done. Most souls just dissipate, disappearing into the ether. But we stayed. At first…we couldn’t do anything in the physical realm. We had to watch our cases go cold. Over and over…and over again.”
Kitty crosses her arms. “We’ve learned a few tricks since then.” There is a moment of silence. “So…go ahead?” She flips her hand in the girl’s direction. Everyone looks at her with an air of expectation.
“What…?”
“Tell us how you died. When, where, what- who are the suspects?”
“Why?”
Elizabeth smirks. “We’re here to help you solve your murder.”