Nameless Ghoul

Black Light Guides You

Itzal’s brain suddenly came back online, and the events of the last day slammed into him with what felt like physical force.

“Here we go,” Chloe said, watching as he held his head in his hands.

“What the fuck?” Itzal breathed.

“Okay, here’s the condensed version. I’m Chloe, as it looks like you’ve already remembered. I work here now. Welcome to the Veil,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “I process souls before they move on to wherever it is they’re going. Call it a soul sorting office. You’re dead, by the way. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”

Itzal stared at her, open-mouthed, his brain struggling to catch up. Did he even have a brain anymore? Could souls have brains? He looked down at his hands. They looked the same as always. He turned them palm-up and checked his wrists. The scars were familiar from years of repeated cuts, but now there was a new, neat, almost healed slice across each one.

He glanced over at Chloe, who watched him silently. His eyes dropped to her neck, where a silvery scar ran across her throat. The scar he’d made with the blade Santos had given him. His body trembled and he swallowed bile. It burned his throat, as real as he remembered.

She sighed.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of sick joker paired me with processing you, but let’s get this over with so we can both move on with our afterlives.”

“I’m so sorry,” Itzal whispered.

“I don’t need your apology. I know you had no choice. But I’ve been pissed at you all these years. I forgive you, okay? Does that make you feel better?”

“No,” he said simply, raising his gaze to hers. “Not really.”

She sighed again and rolled her eyes.

“Well, that’s your cross to bear then, not mine, I suppose. So, as we’ve established, this is the Veil. You have a choice now, to a certain extent. You can choose to go on to the next place, but I can’t tell you where that will be. That’s not my decision. The higher-ups decide that. Depending on your soul and the black marks on it, that place could be nice, or it could be nasty. Don’t ask me about it; it’s way above my pay grade. Or, you can choose oblivion. Your soul will dissolve into nothing and you will cease to exist. Not everyone gets to choose that, so I guess you must have some redeeming qualities as far as they’re concerned.”

That last option sounded oh so tempting. But then Itzal thought about Sunshine. The thought of never seeing her again, even in the afterlife, made his heart ache.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. But if you have questions, just call out to me and I’ll appear. I won’t be far away. You’ve got a few hours to decide.”

Itzal blinked, and she was gone.

He looked around and shivered. He’d contemplated what comes after death before, but now that it was actually happening, it was a shock to the system. Adding Chloe into the mix was the cherry on top.

Itzal was so tired, and he was tempted to call her back right now and choose oblivion. But then his mind brought up that last, blurry image of Sunshine and her final words to him.

He had to keep going. Had to keep fighting. He had to stay here long enough for them to call him back, at least.

Itzal spent the next few hours sitting in quiet contemplation, thinking about how much his life had turned around in the last few weeks. All the events of his existence had lined up to bring him to the Ghost Project concert that night. That was the turning point, and he was grateful to Santos for that much.

He realised Santos must be here somewhere too. Their severed bond had resulted in his death, too. Itzal imagined the preacher raging and snarling and cursing him, which made him smile.

What felt like hours later, Chloe appeared in front of him. The strange mist swirled around her ankles. Itzal stood and stretched his aching muscles.

“So, are we good? Do you know what you want to do?” she asked.

Itzal frowned, a rushing noise in his ears. What was that sound? He looked around, but all he saw was the endless grey of the Veil. Chloe gave him a questioning look.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

“Hear what?” she answered, confused.

It started as whispering, but as the sounds grew louder, Itzal recognized the rhythm of a ritual chant. He looked at Chloe, whose face registered surprise.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. They won’t like this one bit,” she said.

Itzal’s vision went wonky again. He screamed as his soul shattered into black smoke. The force of the ritual sent him swirling through the vortex of black light, back towards the Earth.