Candlelit Shadows

Chapter 15

He had not seen sunlight for so long. It was not too happy to see him, either, and the first few rays were so sharp they hurt. But not as much as the experience of breaking out from the time loop.

      Not that he was going to let all of this deter him in the slightest. He was a man on a mission.

      The flowers felt moist and alive in his hands. He allowed himself a moment to savor the feelings, but they were not meant for him. Eventually, reluctantly, he put them onto the graves, exactly the same as he remembered them.

      In that moment, he felt envious of those buried there, amongst the trees, under the sun.

           

***

Business was slow that day, Hailey lamented as she fanned herself with a stray brochure. But then again, good business was not exactly a pleasant thing when you are an undertaker.

      The building she currently occupied was every bit as worn down as her apartment, something the faded Butterfly Funeral Services sign hardly helped. To her, headquarters was slightly on the stuffy side. But anyone else would have found the situation in that little downtown shop downright depressing. Coffins of all shapes, sizes, and varying degrees of neglect were piled ceiling-high, pressing down formidably on any unlucky soul who entered. As if her customers were not unlucky enough as it was. After all, they were either there for their loved ones… or for themselves.

      At that moment, the only company she had was purely selfish ones.   

 

      Ms Ladon, have you find my poochie? Oh, the poor thing must miss me so…

      Madam oracle, did you find the guy who did this to me? I didn’t fall, someone purposely made me slip…

      Hailey, tell me they’ve finally prosecuted him, I’ve been waiting so long…

      And then there was him.

      They came to her, before and after their deaths. The befores were infinitely easier. And she tried her best to help the afters. She really did. But some things were just beyond her control, you know? She could not keep popping around some dead lady’s place to feed her pets or water her plants, she could not find a killer who probably did not do anything worse than hang his laundry on the fire escape, and she sure as hell could not hunt down Jack the Ripper herself.

      But she could try. Damn her, she could try.

      She read the headline on the morning edition, tucked it under an arm, put on her coat for it seemed a cold day, flipped the sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘close’, and locked up behind her.

Hailey remembered the first time Cheshire led her to the sprawling cemetery on the hillside, for which nine-year-old wouldn’t bring that memory to her grave (pardon the pun)? Cheshire was many things, but a model parent he was not.

      She had been fascinated.

      “This whole place is your inheritance.” Cheshire had waved around the cemetery with a grin befitting his namesake. “One day, you will take up the robe as the Twentieth High Priestess of Rhopalocera, and this graveyard and all its inhabitants were be under your rule.”

      That effectively wiped the smile off her face.

      “But Cheshire,” she had whined, tugging at his sleeve, “do I have to? I don’t want to. Who will take care of Max?”