Sort of Dead

27 - It's Hard To Name This Chapter

Yes.

All of us were enjoying.

Even See - who was dressed in a corset (I wonder how they managed to get his paws into that thing)- seemed to be growling his agreement and wagging his tail to our dance and chat and banter. Uncle showed us he could juggle. One of the many things I didn't know about him back then. He was surprisingly dexterous, what with having only one arm and all. His handicap always never seemed to deter him from anything. Aar and Bee were relishing the joy that my ugly, messed-up face must have been showcasing shamelessly.

But my greatest happiness came from seeing Dad so relaxed. So . . . normal. The light back in his eyes. First time since Mom passed away.

Then Aar and Bee did a short skit, in which they were playing Gaba and me, respectively. Aar being the consummate actor that he is completely got under the skin of the Great And Big And Bumbling Abomination. Maybe I should have called him "GABABA instead.

Whelps, missed opportunity.

(Hashtag Lifelesson: When naming people, put a bit more thought into it.)

Bee played me poorly, to be honest. Her version of Marra - me - was an absent-minded, displeasing boy with an insatiable thirst for blood.

Like, come on, it's my birthday! (But yeah, I guess that's how other people must see me.)

Once the music went up, several spirits swarmed around the place to show their moves. Gossamer ladies dressed in flowing translucent gowns and knights in resplendent chainmail and silks danced together, swirling in the air. Only I could see them, of course, which made it even more fun.

Even the ghost with the unfixed eyes was there.

'Oye, chum!' he cried. 'You didn't tell me it was your birthday when we met yesterday at forenoon! Do you not know the blessings of a spirit go a long way, boy-chum? Kids these days . . . I remember back in the day, younglings . . . ' and on went his rant while I was deciding whether to look for cotton earplugs or an instruction manual on how to make irritating spirits go away. In the end, I did neither.
Apparently, Es had made sure to invite any spirit she could convince to come. It would be kind of rude to put her efforts to waste.

Nice sentiment on her part, but soon there were hundreds of them around, and the temperature plummeted by what I assumed had to be at least 20 degrees, so we had to ask them to leave so we could cut the triple-decker chocolate fudge cake and have dinner in peace.

Wanna know what we ate?

No, you don't. I don't want you drooling your thick, disgusting saliva over these pages. Suffice to say, there was heaps and heaps of scrumdiddlyumptious, deliciosum, katikaroproposa food.

(Side note: I have no idea if these words exist or not.)

And then, for dessert, exclusively for me, there was . . .

'A bowl of O- blood!' Dad presented. 'For my one and only son!'

Now, don't ask me where he got the blood, 'cuz I know that I don't know. Maybe he bribed a doctor or something.

Either way, it was heaven - wrong analogy for me, eh? - to drink that non-curdled, unrefined, chilled blood. Tasty as tasty can be.

It was a bit awkward, sure, to have it with four other normal humans and See staring at the red liquid dripping down my chin and descending down my throat as I made explicit sounds of pleasure (hey, in the best possible way!)

All the while, the others tried ignoring this disgusting sight and turned on the news.

I was fairly focused on my treat, the news reporter's voice brushing my ears but not quite. Then he said two words I heard very, very clearly.

'. . . Witch Moon.'

It was like a billow of wind - no, a tornado - had hit me right in the gut.

And somehow I instantly knew - just knew - the dreadful day was today. On my (second) birthday.

Okay, now I have to be a bit descriptive here. I want you to feel how I felt. Out of my skin and monstrous.

Of course, that doesn't justify what I did - even if it was beyond my control - but still.

Still.

A shiver ran up and down my spine, intermittently. A knuckle popped, as if the pressure had actually equalized (maybe scientists aren't that stupid, after all). Howls and moans filled the air, almost deafeningly loud.

The friends and family around me were muttering quite normally, as though nothing had happened.

You know how in movies sometimes we only focus on the lead on screen and everyone else just kind of diminishes in the backdrop? That's exactly how I felt about the people surrounding me. They seemed to not notice the changes I felt at all.

Oh, how I wish I wasn't the seed of curse.

The howling grew louder in my ears.

I remembered what Bee's grandmother had told me earlier. You see, Satan is always looking for blood. And if he sees it on Witch Moon Day, he doesn't let go easy. He can enter your arteries, squeeze your jugular, make you do his bidding if he shall condone. So whatever you do, do NOT let your blood show on Witch Moon Day. At any cost.

I remembered what the eyeball-juggling spirit guy had told me. Spirits and ghosts and ghouls and zombies and all supernatural beings . . . lending of additional powers, like a radioactive black . . .

Wait, did that - did that include me?

There was a quick flash of red before my eyes.

I wiped some blood off my cheeks, but ended up daubing it all over my face. I looked like a red monster.

I suddenly felt like a monster, even.

I wanted more blood as soon as I finished that pint.

I was thirsty.

The temperature was diving further down.

I felt countless spirits zoom past me.

I heard See barking loudly, madly.

I faintly heard Uncle calling out my name.

Their voices coming as though from space.

I saw Es growing pearly fangs. Needles in her false braids.

I saw Aar and Bee - two tiny, petty figures, like pawns on a chessboard - running towards me, their outline blurry and distant.

I felt strong, steady hands shaking me violently.

I felt the warmth of those hands, felt my heartrate ratchet up. I could hear the blood flowing through those veins in those wrists. Warm, tasty, ready to serve.

I wanted to bite into a jugular. I wouldn't have minded some flesh at that moment either.

I felt the hair everywhere on my body stand in attention as my mouth opened up.

I felt electricity buzzing in my teeth, my jaw, my arteries.

I bit down.

Alright, we're here, guys.

The point where the stone rolls off the hill . . .