Constance

Prologue - A song for the dead

Let us imagine. Stop the spinning world for a while and think just for a second – that we are dead. Actually no, you are dead. How do you think it feels? Do you float around in space, in nothingness? Do you feel or maybe stop feeling at all? Is it the end of cruelty, suffering and pain or is it just the beginning of something new entirely?

Whatever it is, for my sake, imagine you rose from it. That you suddenly, with a start, just out of a sudden — woke up.

You were buried in a casket. Six feet underground. How is that even possible?

Well, in the world of imagination, words and old, wrinkled pages – everything is possible.

Now, how do you feel? Like you have just woken up from a deep, really satisfying nap? Ready to breathe oxygen and air pollution? Would you rather sleep some more or actually, never see the living world again?

That is for sure something to meddle on. Unfortunately, some questions are forever left unanswered. And we do not have the time!

Why are you up from the dead? Well, to put it frankly, I just asked you to imagine it but otherwise, music did it.

Music? Yes, music – a hauntingly beautiful melody that flew around through the whole graveyard. (Did I mention you were in a casket?)

Or maybe, in fact, it is not you hearing it. Surely, you do not really hear it. You are staring at a page, not so blank, with words spilled all over it – linear, connected dots of ink that somehow make sense in your mind. Or do they?

Let me describe it for you. It is magnificent. Truly a song for the dead. Quiet sound of a violin legato could quite possibly make flowers bloom right on the soil of your grave. They make flower fields come alive – with thousands of daisies, roses, marigolds and sunflowers spluttered over the hills, far into the horizon. Petals shine in the flickering beams of the Sun and the sky never looked clearer – only one little misty cloud passes.

As the notes go détaché and ascend, the image starts to change. Clouds increase, rumble and darken – the violin goes staccato – and you can no longer see. Only feel. From the left something scorches, burns and falls. There is smoke, ash, you can smell it. Taste it! The metal on your tongue, so familiar and so foreign. Blood.

Sautillé, now, the bow strikes faster and the music grows louder. It pains you. Silences all the thoughts and makes room for no other as it takes over. A terrifying sound that feels like chains bounding not just the body but seemingly the whole soul...

With one tremolo, the highest string breaks. The concerto halts in a flash. Stops all together and waits. Silence watches, whispers tales in the wind, grins her crooked teeth. Gets ready to strike...

The concerto begins anew. Pizzicato, fingers dance on the instrument. Night falls – a deep breath – the Moon shines. When moonlight lights up the world again – some of the flowers are gone. Only two remained. Red, marron rose, almost wilted, hides beneath a white, almost languid daisy.

Tell me. Is it not beautiful? Did you hear it? Well, if not, I heard it for us both. You just had to think about it.

That is all I ask of you. You were supposed to be dead, remember? Now, it would be time for you to go back. Wherever you were when nonexistent to the eyes of the world. A pity, really. We were just getting to know each other! Ghosts, I guess, either roam around endlessly or do not stay on the face of the Earth for too long.

Was it not something magical, though, to wake up once more? Just to hear it? She put her whole soul into playing the piece. Just for you!

Oh, are you wondering who she is? Well, that I also am not sure of. You see, somehow, when I first woke up this melody was the first thing I heard. Then, when it finished, I realized I was... not alive! In fact, I was just the same as I asked you to imagine!

That means, in some sense, we are similar! Just... you are actually alive. Me? Not so much.

But, you imagined, right? Were you... okay with it? With the sole fact that this was maybe the last thing you would experience in this world. That your whole life and memories – you remember them, yes, but what if you do not? I guess it is a matter of speculation – I, for once, did not have a memory of anything.

And that girl! She woke me up and asked to speak! Can you imagine? All I wanted was to go back to sleep. I was happy with it! I was happy being dead, however that sounds. It made sense to me. There was a casket and I had a whole grave to myself. Even though the name engraved on my stone was unfamiliar, and some of the letters got washed off, and the flowers also died a long time ago. I was seemingly forgotten, as most things are in the end, but then she showed up and just –! Ugh!

She told me horrendous things. Horrible! Truly terrifying! About ghosts and spirits roaming around. I thought of them as lies but there really was evidence, just...

Ah, sorry, I am rambling a bit. The girl – you see, was not so ordinary at all. She must have been some kind of a witch. As I said – I was summoned... and by her, precisely. Amazing! And I was having such a nice little nap! 

You can stop imagining – you probably did a while ago anyway. The only fact here is: I am dead and will continue working as a corpse 24/7 as I always did.

Except, yeah, I was once alive. Or somehow, still am! The witch says she heard stories about me and keeps talking about it! Unfortunately, now, I have to prove that I am not who she thinks I am. At all.

And also, I really want to know what complete, utter imbecile swapped my body and buried me into the grave of Constance Édouard.

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Author's Note

Hi and hello. If you're wondering what is this all about, I don't know either! Had this idea in my head for such a long time, might as well post it. I've no idea whether I'll achieve something like frequent updates but if the prologue caught your eye, then come stick with me for the ride ;)

Any comments welcome, don't be a ghost reader. (Does this count as a pun?)

Have a lovely day! 

xoxo, Katie