The Almost Rock Star (A Ghost Story) (DRAFT)

The Almost Rock Star (A Ghost Story) 15, Crime Scenes

Chapter Fifteen

Crime Scenes

I let Aja ramble on for at least five minutes. It was a long explanation about the gods and goddesses, and how they formed the world, human beings’ place in this formed world, and the gods’ rights over human souls. Every sentence that came out of his mouth hit my American sensibilities like blows; a deranged terrorist’s attempt to enslave my mind. By the end of the tirade, I felt like a man with a gun to my head had tried to convert me to Islam. I glared at my friend. I began to realize why we hardly discussed religion.  

I had never been very religious. I was raised Catholic, but as soon as I left home, I stopped going to church.  It just didn’t fit with my new life style. I was never much concerned about my Sunday morning ignorances. I knew I always had time to go back. I had watched enough sheepish looking people coming back to church my whole parent controlled life. I knew the church would take me back someday. Maybe when I was old I would go back. I had decided something like that during my last mass at St. Edward’s Catholic Church in Palm Beach. 

But even though I was a fallen away Catholic, it didn’t mean some goddess got to tell me what to do. I mean, I thought all the movies about the gods were cool. I wanted powers like that. The first thing I would do as a demigoddess is make everybody buy my songs. I’d be a rock star overnight, and I wouldn’t have to clear any more dirty spaghetti dishes at the Blind Pig.

“Aja, you have lost your mind. The goddesses and gods did not create the world. Nor did they form it, or whatever it is you are saying. They’re a gang of beings with special powers. That’s it. They’re not anybody you need to be scared of.”

“Allie, how can you be so stupid? Your pain is from the goddess! She is angry with you. She is the reason you have pain. This was common knowledge for me as a child in New Delhi. How can Americans be so ignorant?”

He was making me furious. He and I both didn’t practice anything spiritual. Or so I thought. 

“Are you sure this pain is from her?” I said. “I thought it might be, at first. She said so. But you know, it could be just because I’m dead. Maybe this is normal. Maybe this is just because I’m out of my blood.”

Aja gave me a strange look. I glared back at him. I was probably visible, I was so angry.

Then I became aware of something else in the room with us. I realized it had been there all along. It wasn’t the goddess. It felt overwhelmingly like it hated me. Like it was the kind of presence that comes before the blood is spilled in a suicide cult or a vampire coven. Or a Edgar Allen Poe-themed murder club, while members are still pouring drug-laced red wine down the throat of the some silly cheerleader or random jogger.

I looked carefully around the room. I thought I heard distant sounds, like the heaving music of ancient rhythms.  The pounding beat reminded me of some kind of dark experience of aboriginal worship and pagan blood lust. This presence, I knew, had witnesses the frenzied parties before the cutting and the chopping. It was there, a silent watcher, before the bleeding and the blood drinking began. I didn’t know why I knew this. I was suddenly and completely afraid.