Other Ways

Our eyes first locked when you came to my grandfather's "strange" shop. I was sweeping out the dust and cobwebs and those amber eyes caught me in my tracks. You sported that flannel jacket of yours, "a grunge girl for life," you told me.

It took little time for you to take not only my heart but my weak virginity. You knew I was yours the moment we laid panting in my van, your long nails in my back, cutting deeply. Once our romantic words cindered away, you asked me what was up with grandfather's shop.

"It's a family secret," I hushed you, losing myself once more in those eyes--a sea of Auburn.

On an unseasonably cold day in July, you walked down the aisle with your shimmering blue wedding dress. I choked up when I saw you--as if I were the father giving you away. Once our vows were exchanged and you became my bride... that silly tomboyish way of yours shined further; guiding me out into the sobbing rain as we ran. You slipped on a damp log in your high heels and broke your ankle. You vowed never again to wear high heels, "A tomboy's life for me!" We even kept the cast.

As much as we wanted children, you couldn't give me one. We cried together and you told me to leave--to find someone who could give me a family--but you were my family. My parents and grandparents didn't see it that way, wanting the teachings passed down. But my life was mine and I refused it without you.

Seasons came and went, trials were fought--some won, some lost--but together we remained even when our youth began to fade and our skin wrinkled. I don't know if it were your late evenings at the office that made me feel an uncomfortable change, but something was dying.

I sat at my desk at the shop, ordering ingredients for spells I was hired to cast. My thoughts kept going back to you... maybe, just maybe if I told you I loved you enough times that you might have stayed.

A thudding sound broke my concentration. I looked down to see the tiny blue teddy bear you "won" for me at that fair. You always were quite desirable with a bow and arrow in hand. I picked him up and dusted him off then returned to work knowing when I got home that you wouldn't be there. People in my line of work are often given hints of betrayal. My heart sank, but I needed a little more evidence before I could truly believe my senses.

It finally came with a phone ringing. I picked it up, but not to the soft, pleasant sound of your tone, but the grunting sounds of a man. My voice cracked and my eyes watered. I grabbed my jacket and ran for the door. I needed to see you... I needed you so badly, Victoria.

I only drove with hazard once, and it was on that night. I arrived, marching my way up to him. He displayed that long black body bag, unzipping it to reveal you. He mumbled something about hitting and running, about identifying who you were, but I couldn't hear him. The world turned black and white and I sobbed, but I refused to truly mourn you.

Mourning was for them--the banker, the lawyer, the politician. Let them pardon themselves from their treacherous gambits and let us few weirdos exist in other ways.

I drag my muddied body over the graveyard fence, holding you in one arm. I will show you one of those ways.

These paths may be forbidden but why teach such blasphemy if it's meant to never be used?

Red candle wax spills over my fingers but I relentlessly continue chanting. You lay in the center of the pentagram, aside from the mud on your cheeks, you are as beautiful as you were on our wedding night.

I grab the white rat with my hand. Scared, he bites into my fingers once and again, yet I no longer feel. I mourn him, knowing that's what you would have me do. I make certain to cut into him with haste; to let him feel as little pain as possible. He drips on you, my love. His red viscous fluids pouring down your frozen lips as the candle flames erupt in irritation, lighting all around your bare body.

Did you kiss the wind just now? Or was that simply my mind playing tricks? Grandfather taught me the ritual only once--and he was too drunk to realize what he had done. I begged to whatever lies beyond that he taught me correctly.

Your arms are twitching! Yes! Yes! Rise, my darling wife...

Every movement you make, a loud popping and cracking is heard. You sit up, dried rodent's blood being your marvelous lipstick. Gasping and panting, you grab me with chilly fingers. I gaze into your amber eyes, seeing them replaced with blood red. Some say the dead never return quite the way they departed. It's alright, it's all right.

"Grandfather taught me the other way--your new way," I whisper.

My fingers slowly run through your wavy dark hair. I comb more and more until I hold a lock of your hair...

"Don't panic. I'll get you a wig, my lovely...."