Abigail Bird

Jonathan Finch stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, studying his image to make sure he looked presentable. He glanced at his watch; 1:30 pm, still plenty of time before he had to leave. The service wouldn't start for another hour and a half.

He gestured toward the mirror and spoke. "I'm so sorry for your loss, I can't imagine..."

He straightened his tie and his expression changed.
He looked as if he might cry as he repeated the sentence in a softer voice, making sure to emphasize certain words "I'm so sorry for your loss, I can't even imagine what it's like to..."

Almost satisfied, he straightened his tie again and smoothed his blond hair back before heading into the kitchen.
He poured a cup of black coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, reaching for the day's newspaper on the window-sill.

Movement in the corner of his eye caused him to look outside.
Abby, the little girl next door, stood motionless in her yard.
She wore her school uniform, and her long mahogany hair was fashioned in a thick braid.
She was staring right at him with a blank expression.
Startled, he jerked back from the table, heart racing.

This wasn't possible, it couldn't be.
Abby was dead.
In fact, he was going to her funeral at 3 o'clock, along with everyone else in town.
As if looking for confirmation of this fact, he stared down at the paper in front of him.
The story of little Abby Bird dominated the pages.
He looked back nervously but she wasn't there anymore.
He decided that it must have been his imagination.
After all, the memory of the girl's death was still so fresh.

                                                            ***

Three weeks prior, ten-year-old Abigail Bird had been reported missing.
She'd gone over to her best friend's house after school but hadn't returned home by her curfew.
Her mother had called to check up on her, but was told that Abby had left over an hour earlier, last seen running into the woods, taking her usual shortcut home.

Hours had passed without any sign of her. Her mother had asked everyone in town for help, asking if they'd seen her.
No one had.
A search party had been organized.
Of course Jonathan volunteered, along with every able-bodied person in town.
They'd focused on the woods where she'd last been seen, fanning out and trudging carefully along the forest floor, keeping a vigilant eye out for any detail that might put them on the right track.

They found her body on the second day.
A man had come running through the trees, face pale. He'd hunched over and thrown up.
The others hadn't waited for him to speak, but had run straight in the direction he'd come.
A moment later, a great, grievous howl had echoed through the forest as Abby's father set eyes on his daughters corpse.

She was laid out on a bed of autumn leaves in the middle of a small clearing, hands crossed over the chest.
Her head was gone, slender neck a jagged stump.
Her blood was everywhere, covering her body, spattered on the trees.
It was discovered later that her throat had been slit before the killer removed her head.

Her head had still not been found, despite an ongoing search.
This was because it was safely hidden away, floating in a jar of formaldehyde in her killer's basement.
Of course no one in town knew this...Except for Jonathan Finch.
It was his basement.

                                                        ***

Jonathan checked his watch again; 2 pm, no hurry.
He took a deep breath as he rose and let it out slowly, approaching the basement door.
He knew that what he'd seen, Abby in the yard, couldn't have been real, but he still had the urge to go down and check on the display.

In his basement was a small storage room. He unlocked it, his heartbeat rising.
The jar was still in it's place on the shelf. His personal trophy.
Inside it was Abby's lopsided head, staring blindly through sunken eyes.
Her mouth hung open, slack-jawed, never to speak again.
Jonathan moved the jar carefully, repositioning it a couple of times, trying to get it perfectly in the middle.
Abby's head bobbed gently, her dark braid slowly snaking around in the fluid.

Jonathan had watched Abby grow up.
He'd watched and waited, until he couldn't wait any longer.
She would've started developing soon, and he wanted to keep her innocence.

He ran his fingers softly over the glass, recalling that evening.
She had fought with all her might but he was too strong for her.
He remembered how she'd frozen in terror when he dragged his sharp blade across her delicate throat, her blood showering the trees around her, dark against the setting sun.

"They're really sad you know" The voice came from behind him.

Jonathan spun around and his eyes widened in surprise.
Abby Bird stood in front of him, but she looked unnatural, intangible, vaporous.

"My parents, they're really sad" The girl spoke again, her voice hollow and monotonous.

Her face bore no expression as she looked past him at the grotesque display of her head, then averted her eyes back to him.
"Can't you hear their cries at night?, don't you feel guilty?"

Jonathan laughed at this, his anxiousness slipping away.
He'd felt a lot of things after killing the girl; invigorated, accomplished, thrilled and at peace at the same time.
He did not feel guilty.

"No" he said simply. He wasn't afraid of her.
Whether she was a ghost, or just a figment of his imagination, he didn't believe she could harm him.
He knew that he was the one to fear, and he liked it.
"Did you want something?" He asked mockingly.

"I want you to confess, to pay for what you did"

"Confess?" He scoffed at her.
"I'm not going to confess", he hissed, "No, I've only just begun. You were my first, and it was sweet let me tell you.
I can still remember the smell, the taste of your blood as it shot from your body".

He smiled at her and licked his lips.
"Do you think I'm ready to give all that up?", he added, "I'm not. I intend to add to my ...collection", he indicated the jar on its shelf, " and you aren't going to stop me...you're not even real".
Jonathan laughed and swiped his hand through Abby's spectral body, it was cold, but as insubstantial as fog.

Abby stared back at him, her face unchanging. "I'm real enough" she said blankly "and I will stop you". She reached her hand toward Jonathan's face until he felt the slightest chilled touch.
She reached even farther and Jonathan felt icy tendrils slithering like smoke up his nose and down his throat.

Fear finally gripped him and he flailed about, trying to stop her, but grabbing only air. He coughed and cried out in panic "please no! stop it, get out you little bitch!"
He shivered violently against the chill that overtook him as Abby's presence filled his body and took over his mind.
Jonathan Finch lost consciousness.


***

Abby opened her eyes, or rather, Jonathan's eyes.
She felt strange, heavy.
Possessing the man hadn't been a part of her plan, but she was glad that it'd worked.
She inhaled deeply, taking in the small storage room as if for the first time; the stark fluorescent light, shining on her head inside the jar, casting a sickly glow on her face through the formaldehyde.
Her breath came out in a great sob as emotions flooded her senses.

Since her murder she'd known she was angry, that she was sad and horrified and wanted her killer to pay, but it was all just thoughts.
Without a body to physically respond to the effects of these thoughts she'd become detached from her feelings.
Now that she was back in control of a body, even if it wasn't her body, the tangled emotions hit her with such a force that they became almost unbearable as she sunk to the floor, head buried in her hands as she cried.

She thought of her family and her friends, of how much she missed them.
She thought of the things she would never be able to do and she almost gave up, longing to leave this body, the body of her murderer, tempted by the numbness of her spirit form.
But something held her back.

Anger.
Blood boiling fury.

He had to pay for what he did to her, and she could not give him a chance to do the same thing to someone else.
She could imagine one of her friends, playing in the woods, hearing something approaching and looking up just in time to see Jonathan Finch walking towards them with a blissful smile on his face.
Just in time to notice the cold glint in his eye and the gleam of his blade.

She was determined not to let that happen.
She stood up with effort and walked toward the jar on the shelf.
It was difficult to move, like walking in water, and she had to concentrate on her actions.
Gazing sadly through the glass at her own lifeless head, she devised a plan.
She did not want to cause her parents any more pain, but she was going to have to.
She needed a strong reaction.
Jonathan Finch would confess, even if she had to do it for him...And he would pay.


She looked at the watch; 2:45 pm.
She would need to walk, and guiding Jonathan's muscular body to the cemetery wasn't going to be easy, even though it wasn't that far away.
Abby would be late, but that was OK.
Better even, for what she had planned.


Tentatively and with great care, she opened the jar and reached inside...

                                                          ***

Abby's grave-site was very crowded.
Everyone had loved little Abby Bird.
They were a close-knit community and her murder and horrifying discovery had deeply affected all of them.
Her parents sat together, both looking drawn and devoid of life as they stared, still unbelieving, at their daughter's coffin.
Their lives had been drained of all meaning, all joy.

Her uncle was giving a eulogy.
"Abby was a beacon of light for all of us, an exceptionally kind and giving little girl..." Tears rolled down the man's face as he spoke"...I remember when she would come for overnight visits. Her and the kids would play all into the night. Even after we'd sent them to bed, there would still be sounds of poorly suppressed laughter..."

He paused, noticing a man approaching, walking with an odd, slow gait.
The crowd turned and followed his gaze.
Jonathan Finch looked exhausted as he staggered towards them clutching a burlap sack in his hands.
No one knew quite how to react to him, so they stayed silent.
Jonathan spoke but his voice sounded strange, "Waaiut, aiiie cnfessss" He looked irritated for a moment, but spoke again, his eye-brows knit in concentration. "T waass m...Mmmeeeee...M mmuuuuurdeerd herrr"

He reached into the sack and let it fall to the ground.
His hand clasped the dark braid tightly.
Abby's head dangled from it, swaying from side to side.
It took a while for everyone to grasp what they were seeing, for the horror to set in.

They didn't notice when Jonathan's demeanor changed, and a bewildered expression appeared on his face.
The head dropped from his hands and landed on the coffin with a hollow thud.
As if a spell had been broken, Abby's mother turned her gaze on Jonathan, narrowing her eyes.
A guttural scream rose in her throat as she shot from her chair, and sprinted towards him, spitting curses...

***

Jonathan's senses came rushing back as Abby slipped out of him.
He blinked, stunned as he saw where he was.
The crowd stared transfixed at his hands, and he noticed the braid he held, and the head hanging from it.
Startled, he dropped it on the girl's coffin.

Suddenly, Abby's mother came barreling at him, and before he could react, her father and the rest of the people were behind her, rushing at him and pushing him to the ground.
They were in a frenzy, fueled by raw grief and rage.
They pinned him down and there was nothing he could do but scream.

Abby's mom sat on his chest. Her face was flushed, and hatred shone in her eyes.
She had long nails and she clawed at his face. The  people around her kicked and stomped.
He cried out in pain as somebody brought down a shovel on his kneecaps, breaking them.
Hot tears rolled down Abbey's mother's cheeks as she brought her thumb to his eye. She dug into it with a  grunt, going behind the eyeball as she began prying it out...

Abby had left Jonathan's body just before the crowd attacked him and now she stood by, contentedly watching them avenge her.
Her mother removed Jonathan's right eye and his terrified shrieks pierced the air. She stuffed the bloody eyeball into his gaping mouth, growling at him.

Abby's father brought the shovel forward. Her mother and the others turned Jonathan onto his stomach, holding his hands down as her father placed the shovel's edge against the back of his neck.
Jonathan screeched in fear and squirmed pathetically, trying to break free. He begged them desperately for his life...

...Abbey's father brought his foot down heavily on the shovel. It sank into Jonathan's neck and blood pumped out of him in great, hot spurts.
The foot came down again, this time with enough force to sever his head from his body...


Jonathan Finch's life came to an end and a sense of peace enveloped Abby.
She would finally be able to rest. 
She let herself slowly fade away...