Judges

Chapter Eleven

1994

"So, tell me. How did you die?" He sits in the shade of the same oak tree, calling out to me as I sit in the sun several yards away. "Was it gruesome? Is this what you looked like?"

It's been several weeks since I met Jared, and I have spent every day after I told Jared who I am talking to him in the park. I've gotten to know him much better, things that don't help me much, but I like to hear them anyway.

Things about him, his likes, dislikes, favorite bands.

When he talks about his family and gets into detail, he stops himself suddenly as if hitting a wall. He's done it four times already, stopping himself and refusing to give me information about his parents and family, and exactly why he won't talk about them.

I notice certain things about him, the glint in his eye, his smile when he talks to me, and I look away when I feel him staring at me for longer than usual. Not a creepy stare, but just... something different. It feels different, but I can't quite describe it.

I feel like sometimes he knows what I'm thinking.

"This is how I looked when I was alive, my face, and hair. I was fifteen, and no it wasn't overly gruesome. It was a car accident, in 1908. I made the deal and judged my first person in 1919, and I left in 1988. I wasn't supposed to be here, 1988 was my last job."

"What?"

"It was nothing." I really don't want to talk about 1988.

"What is it?"

"You don't want to talk about your family, I don't want to talk about my last job." He stares at me. "We all have our secrets," I say, and he brushes it off and tries to continue the conversation.

"So tell me about dying." He brushes his dark hair out of his face and closes his eyes.

"Dying? Dying is... I don't even really know how to explain it to you. It's just death. You get to rest, it feels like a dream. You feel dying, and then you just... don't. Suddenly you can't move, and you are drifting up into a nice little dream. I only really thought when my conscience was called on by my friend Alastair."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Shut up. I knew him when he was alive, but he died three years later. Now he thinks he has some kind of seniority over me, even though his death was even dumber. I'm way smarter than him."

"So tell me about your death. I want to know what happened to you."

"Why?"

"Because I think it will help me to get to know you better."

I close my eyes, and try to remember. If I think hard enough, I can even feel the breeze.