The City of Broken Hearts

The Soldier's Friend

It's hard to tell if it's day or night in the After-life. I supposed it doesn't really matter, I haven't gotten tired at all, and I very much doubt I will.

The Witches have been ignoring me for the past hour. Maybe they're waiting for me to vanish and not be a problem anymore. Well, if that's what they want, that's not a problem.

I steal quietly down the narrow stairs and out the heavy front door. The streets are still heavy with fog, laden with the quiet of a graveyard. How fitting.

I don't quite remember the layout to the City of Broken Hearts. Naturally, this is the first time I've been here as a member of the unquiet dead, but even so, I had the windy, dark alleys memorized nearly as good as the cities on the other side.

And yet, I have not the slightest clue where I am. I could be walking right up to the Council, and I wouldn't even know it.

The narrow street widens, and suddenly I'm walking down Main Street. Shops line the cobblestone roads; but the shutters are all drawn. Perhaps it is nighttime, and everyone is sitting in their homes, staring at their eerie fire until dawn. Or perhaps, as I suspect, most of the city is hiding because they're in a state of emergency.

"Hey! You there! Halt!"

I hear a gruff voice and glance over my shoulder. If my heart was still beating, it would be beating much harder right now.

A man dressed in a shabby, tattered soldier uniform from World War 2 is shouting at a hunched over woman, who happens to be wailing and sobbing at the edge of a fountain.

I duck beneath an awning and slip into the shadow. I very much doubt that the soldier saw me, but I'd like to keep it that way. Somehow I doubt I will be met with a cheerful reception. There's a price hanging over my head, and that's with everyone thinking I'm still dead.

"You're breaking curfew! You need to return to your residence, ma'am!"

The soldier marches towards her, and I can see a gaping, oozing wound on his back. Apparently he didn't make his peace before wandering into the city.

"Can't you see I'm grieving?" she snaps, "Why don't you just leave me alone? Nobody wants you here, scum!"

She spits towards his feet. The soldier seems unfazed.

"I am sorry for you loss ma'am, but we all experience them during times of war."

"We're not in a war! Why do you always have to insist that we are!"

The confusion of the soldier strikes me as odd. Deterioration and brain rot are natural side effects of dying, but generally speaking, spirits suffer from neither of those things. Once a spirit crosses into the light, or the City of Broken Hearts, he realizes that he is indeed dead, and that generally comes with a sense of agony, malaise, and often times, anger or sorrow. The woman sobbing for her lost child makes sense; the pallor of her skin and distended stomach tells me that after her child's death, she took her own life, most likely hoping to find her child again. What she couldn't have known is that those who die in such agony and by their own hand, nearly always find themselves in the City of Broken Hearts unless and until a Seeker or the Council can help them find their way to healing.

But the solider? He still thinks it's wartime circa 1945. He's telling her that she's broken curfew, and that we've all lost someone in the war. This type of confusion is typical to those trapped in the House of Memories or elsewhere in the mortal world. But once you find your way here, your memories return and you know you're dead.

Something must be horribly wrong if the dead are slipping through in this state of confusion. The fact that he's been dead so long is equally troubling. I've met plenty of soldiers, dating back to pre-civil war, but they're always lost in the mortal world. If they've found their way here, it's because they can't be helped by a Seeker and need to find a way to make peace with themselves. So why is he here when he clearly needs help?

As I continue to watch the scene unfold, my training starts to tickle my brain. I have the feeling that if he only knew the war was over, he'd find a way to the Other Side.

To help the boy could mean outing myself. But to leave him like this would be going against everything I stand for.

I step out from under the awning, half expecting a band of angry Witches to fall on me and drag me back to their depressingly narrow home, but it's only me, the soldier, and the wailing woman.

"Ma'am, you're breaking curfew. Don't you know how dangerous that is? The Germans could be here at any second!'

She's staring at him through bitter, stained eyes. "You're insane," she hisses, "Leave me alone to mourn!"

"At ease, Soldier," I start to reach out to touch his shoulder, then think better when the darkly oozing wound on his back makes itself known.

The soldier straightens up and turns to me, his hand on his forehead in a salute, his eyes staring past me at the memory of a Sergeant.

"Sir, this woman is not complying with the curfew," he gestures to her, "I've tried to tell her that the air raids could start at any moment but-"

"Will you piss off already?" she hisses again.

"What's your name, boy?" I ask gently.

He straightens his back proudly. "George Franklin, sir!"

I nod, mustering up the most warming smile I can. I don't know how long I've been dead, or if I can even help as a Seeker anymore, but I feel a familiar tingle in my fingers as I reach out and grab his shoulder firmly. He seems to be able to feel the electric pulse himself.

"George Franklin," I say, "On behalf of the human race, I thank you for your service. The war has been won. We beat those bastard Germans and sent them running."

George blinks in confusion. "How could we? I don't remember that at all."

"What was the last thing you do remember, George?"

He blinks slowly as his muddled brain struggles to find his last memory. I glance nervously at the woman who's watching us with keen interest in her narrowed eyes.

George gasps. "Where's James?" he asks suddenly, "He was..."

He closes his eyes as a look of pain crosses his face. The scene around us starts to shimmer and fade as George delves into his mind to remember his last, worst memory.

I try to pull away, knowing that the electricity from this is going to attract all kinds of trouble. Why couldn't I have left well enough alone?

"James..."

The woman is standing now, her eyes wide as she watches my eyes roll up into my head.

Damn it.