Oh Death (Chapter One)

The door opened, and the collection of little dried bones rattled softly. Alice looked up to where they hung, tied together by lengths of fishing wire. The myriad assortment of raccoon ribs and bird talons ended with a monkey's skull, jaw left open and pointed canines grinning down to greet customers. 

With a smirk, Alice reached up and tapped it gently, making it turn in a lazy circle. "Classic," she murmured. Her eyes drifted around the rest of the room, perusing the décor with amusement. Complete with creaking floorboards, age-frosted windows and storage areas partially concealed by moth-eaten fabric, someone had put a lot of thought into enhancing the atmosphere of the shack. Shelves roughly nailed into the walls boasted various common organs floating in some viscous mystery solution. Likely the former compatriots of those still-rattling bones. 

"Madame Zyra," she called, her heels clicking over the bare wood. One stiletto found sudden purchase in a gap of the buckling boards. She grunted, swearing under her breath as the motion awkwardly jerked her ankle. Tugging free, she scowled down and rotated her foot, hoping there wouldn't be any swelling later. 

"I wouldn't be wearing those shoes around these parts." The voice came as a predictable rasp. The southern accent was thick and heavy, straight and obvious bayou-dweller slur. Alice looked up she mentally prepared herself not to make any smart remarks about dramatic flare. But snark caught as a ball in her throat as she met the gaze of the withered old woman who'd spoken. Leather-faced and blind, her white, clouded eyes seemed to be staring right at her face. The accuracy was eerie. Wisps of grey, thinning hair protruded from a scalp that flaked dead skin. Folding her arthritic hands over a knob-topped staff like claws, she flicked a worm-like tongue over cracked lips and continued, "How can I help you today? A consultation with the spirits, perhaps, is what you seek? A reading of the tiles, or cards?" 

Alice smoothed her own hands self-consciously down her blouse. She shook her head, and then realizing her stupidity, cleared her throat and said, "No. My name is Alice Burgton, I'm a detective from the local police force. This has to do with a recent homicide." 

Madame Zyra wrinkled her nose, moving rigidly towards a table in the middle of the room, pulling out a chair. Laboriously she sat, placing her staff across her legs. "And you come to ask a little old blind woman if she saw anything?" Her tone was understandably incredulous. "What do you suspect that I could tell you?" 

Awkwardly Alice wandered over and sat across from her. Bemusedly she realized she'd been clutching her badge, fingers digging around in her pocket to grab hold of it. It wasn't like they were designed with braille. She released it and folded her hands on the table's dusty surface. "Of course, Madame Zyra. We acknowledge that the circumstances are...odd, and if you cannot provide any useful information there is certainly no consequence. It's merely the proximity of the murder we are concerned with, and we have been questioning everyone within the immediate vicinity without prejudice." 

The old woman pursed her lips, giving her head a shake so that the charms around her throat jingled softly. They lay silver and heavy on her age-flattened chest. At a glance, Alice could never hope to count them. "Of course you are. Of course. I suspect you are worried about the boy, then. The one found in the bog. Yes, his mother came to me seeking consolation over his death. Unfortunately I had little, his spirit is exceedingly troubled." 

Alice gave herself liberty to roll her eyes, but resisted the urge to drum her fingers impatiently. "Of course. I hope that she has others like you to help guide her through this time of mourning." Instantly she switched into a professional tone, the kind that allowed for no nonsense. "We have been able to identify the boy as Teddy Mandarin, age six. Time of death has been determined at around forty-eight hours ago. I'm sure you understand the immediacy with which we have to capture the culprit, how quickly a trail runs cold." 

She stared across the table as Zyra wagged her head slowly, staring into the empty space before her with half-closed, rheumy eyes. "Teddy was a good boy. It's a tragedy that such a soul gets so tangled. I barely recognized him when he came to find me. It took me some time to see past the gauges in his face, the hollow sockets of his eyes. Only one truly perverse would carve those kinds of symbols on a little boy. Nothing but a sweet, innocent boy." 

Alice blinked, plucking a pen out of her auburn bun and scribbling down some notes. The sentences flowed neat and precise over the crisp white paper, likely the cleanest thing in the room. "I presume his mother told you about those details?"

A moment's hesitation passed, and the corner of the soothsayer's mouth curled wryly. "You do not believe in the spirit-word." Her statement left no room for debate. "I suppose your lack of faith is to be expected. You are too far removed from us to know the way of things, up in your city. I cannot say that I blame you." 

The detective rolled her eyes once more, pausing in her writing. She had to work to keep her tone cordial as she forged on, "Can you offer me any input on what the symbols found on the boy could mean?" 

The smirk stayed plastered on the woman's face. Silence passed again, maddeningly, before she deigned to answer. Her stiff fingers trailed along first her left cheek, then her right. "They take the knife and carve the lines here, and here. To show eternal tears. To bring eternal crying. But they take the eyes," she rubbed the pad of her finger over the unmoving surface of one of her own blind, unfeeling corneas, and Alice cringed. "So that he cannot weep, and release his anger and fear." Ghosting her yellowed nails along an almost predetermined trail, Zyra let them rest softly over her chest, where her heart would be. "And they try to take his heart, so that as his memory fades away of life, he has no love to bind him to his own beloved." She chuckled quietly. "But they failed this last, no?" 

Quirking a brow, Alice clicked her pen and slid it back into her hair. "We found incisions around the area you describe, yes. But we're not sure why the perpetrator fled without finishing. We surmise that someone must have interrupted whatever he or she was trying to do, and that is why I am asking everyone within a certain radius of the crime scene if they heard or saw anything." 

Madame Zyra's hands worried along the coiled knob at the end of her cane. Her fingers skittered over the carvings littering its surface. "I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she replied. "I saw and heard nothing that night. But I can tell you this." Her head turned, and Alice imagined the ancient tendons creaking in her neck. "There will be more killings than this. Your...perpetrator is not finished yet. He is after something, and until you take his life as he takes that of others, his victims will increase in number." 

Fighting the shudder that ran down her spine, Alice turned away from the lifeless, dead gaze. "Of course. And we are doing everything in our power. Everyone has been alerted to the danger and told to be on the lookout for any suspicious behavior." She stood, sliding the chair back in with a muted thud. "I thank you for your time, Madame Zyra. I shall take into account what you have said." 

The smirk twitched back to life on the woman's wrinkled face. "No. You take what knowledge you think relevant, the rest is ramblings from a mad old woman." She waved dismissively towards the door. "Good luck to you, detective. You play with powers of which you are ignorant. It is a folly of which I cannot hope to cure you." 

Alice bit her tongue from replying, bidding a good day to her morbid companion as she strode for the exit. She resisted the urge to turn as she left, feeling those eyes boring into the back of her head.

Reviews

[Crusty Pizza Stain]

Hmm, a nice story with a lot of adjectives...a ton of detail....sometimes it's hard to put in that much detail and not have it take away from the general story line. It's a balancing act.

[A. Amos]

Great work and your story telling is amazing...

[TheAllegorist]

Thank you for reading! Glad you enjoyed it!

[A. Amos]

I loved it, the title you selected was brilliant