Prologue
"New arrival! Come on everyone, it's a new arrival!"
There came the flashing lights, the ringing bell…
"Lights up!"
"Drinks for everyone!" That distinct voice, while rather high-pitched, sounded French; actually pretty close by, and beneath it, there came the sound of scratchy, skittering legs, just like an insect's…
"Coming through, everybody!" A low, bubbly voice that sounded like someone trying to talk with water at the back of their throat, pushed through, and then, a cold land touched…
"She's not waking up," the same voice said.
"Do you think she might be knocked out?" another voice wondered aloud.
"Someone fetch some water!"
"No!" said the watery lady's voice. "If she needs to rest, then someone take her to a bed. Come on quickly, don't fuss!" She clapped her hands quickly, her heavy steps clanking on the floor.
"Eh, come on blokes!" a high, scratchy voice said. "We gotta get this pretty girl to a coffin."
Coffin? Why would they need to get her to a coffin? She felt fine, just a little sleepy and, maybe light-headed. Maybe if she tried to stand back up, she could get back to normal, and find…
…wait. Why did it smell like sawdust and decay?
What was happening?
Mustering up as much strength as she could, she pressed her eyes open. She had to close them back up again, because the walls that surrounded her were a bright pink and green, the lanterns and lights flooding the space with their pastel glows. It was too much for her tired eyes, and sent such a jolt of unfamiliarity through her that she swore her heart almost leapt out of her throat.
It should have almost hurt to have her heart pound that hard against her ribs, but…
…it didn't. She couldn't feel her heart at all. Rather it felt like a cold rock that was encased inside of her.
"I'm dreaming," she said to herself. "I'm only dreaming about this. I'm just sleeping, yes, that same dream I had about the angels. I only can't breathe or feel my heart because this dream is just…just too real. The other souls are just carrying me somewhere to help me return to peace…"
"This ain't no dream, honey. You're as real as the old bowler on my head." The rough, scratchy voice spoke soothingly to her, but there was no true consolation in his tone. If she wasn't dreaming, and actually couldn't feel her heart, shouldn't he be worried about getting her to a hospital…?
"Hey, if you're feeling better, a toast then!" another voice said. "To the newcomer!" He clapped a glass against a surface, and then there was a gurgling sound while he drank up.
"Oi, watch where you spill that!" said yet another voice, this one very commanding and almost soldier-like. "You might just get that drink on her dress."
"Just look at you, poor dear!" said the same lady's voice from earlier. "You should not let these ruffians get you excited. You must have been through such trouble up there."
"Up there? What…what do you mean?" She could hardly find the strength in her voice; inexplicably, her eyelids were heavy as waterlogged driftwood, and felt very much like sleeping. Perhaps she might as well begin, while she was being carried to a cozy bed, where she could rest and make sense of what was happening…
"Just sleep, dear," the lady said, smoothing the hair on her forehead.
"On the other hand," said the first scratchy voice. "Blue hair looks really, very pretty on a corpse like her."
Blue hair? Corpse?
Her eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright.
"Oh, now look what you did!" the lady said, putting her hands on her hips.
"What's happening?" the awakened girl nearly shouted, not realizing she hadn't taken a breath to speak. "Where am I? Who are you all?"
Her eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing. Speckling the colorful space, all dressed in tattered, bright clothes, were mysterious-looking people, their skin a sky blue, and their hair either black or a dark blue. There was not a speck of beige or chocolate brown color on any one person there, and, if she hadn't seen the decaying skin giving way to gnarly bones, she would have thought they were aliens.
But when she looked down, and noticed the bony hands holding her up, she yelped, and jumped to the ground. She might have stepped out a little too quickly, because her dress skirt got caught in a large sword sticking out from a stout man's chest, and she tumbled to the floor. She barely felt it when she crashed to the hard ground, although, if this were real life, she would be screaming as a jagged edge caught on her arm, scratching at her skin.
Not even bothering to check for blood—if she could even feel that at all, either—she shot her head up to watch the blue-skinned people staring at her. There wasn't even a clack, as the skeletons that had held her up slumped their arms, and looked her way. No one breathed or blinked.
Biting her lip, she lifted her arm, and she swore she almost felt her eye pop all the way out of her sockets. The skin on her arm—the one that had caught on the jagged corner of the floor—was as blue as a summer sky, and as unscathed as if there hadn't even been an accident. And when she lifted her hair to eye-level, she felt her insides constrict tightly, even though she couldn't feel her stomach churning.
There were worse things at hand than just aliens.
They were corpses. And she was one of them.
The seconds that passed slowed to a considerable pace, as if time had been frozen over, and only her brain moved normally. There were no comprehensible thoughts that whirred across her conscious mind- only babble and random images that flashed like dull lightning and flew like a fast-motion film. And somehow, at the same time, she could see everything—her parents, her bedroom at home, the bright summer days spent outside—all in the dank, washy color her skin had become.
Without even thinking, she placed her hand over her chest. Half of her screamed inside to feel the icy cold of her dead heart, and not the familiar thump of blood coursing through. She blanched, throwing her head forward, and her long, dark blue hair slapped onto the floor. The shock was so great, the blanch so forceful, that she waited for her stomach to toss something up her throat, or for her strength to give way and simply fall back to sleep. She heaved herself off the ground, waiting for the acid to pile at the back of her throat, to feel the sickening sensation of her insides contracting, and wake her up from this hallucination.
Before she could throw herself back to the ground, the large lady with the bubbly voice rushed to her, grabbing her by the arm. There was a gasp while the girl gazed at the large lady's chest, pointing a shaking finger at her.
"Your breast!" she said. "The skin's gone! Oh my god, I…I-I can see the bones, I…"
"Quiet yourself, child," the lady said firmly, taking the girl and putting her in a chair. She called to a little purple head on the bar top, and, carrying himself on a whole colony of skittering beetles, whistled shrilly. More beetles transported a large, ornate mug filled with a smooth, beige liquid, and pushed it into the large lady's hand.
"Drink now," she commanded, placing the drink into the girl's shaking hands.
"No!" the girl said hysterically. "You're all dead! I'm only dreaming! I don't want to drink! No, I want to wake up!" Quickly, she banged her head against the back of the chair. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" she ranted. Why can't I feel anything? she thought, only giving herself harder shoves to the chair. The drink rattled in her hand, almost spilling over while the large lady tried to keep her still.
"Dear, come now, come now!"
Still, the girl would not stop crying, banging her head on the chair even harder.
Frowning, the large lady drew her hand back. She didn't like having to do this, but this child was having the worst case of pro-death hysterics she'd seen in a long time. Only a swift hand to the cheek could bring her back…
Before she could think twice, the lady brought her hand to the girl's cheek, leaving a harsh blue mark on it while the girl shrieked in surprise. She jolted from the cry so quickly that her hand lashed out, knocking her drink off the chair arm. The mug clattered loudly to the floor, and the sandy liquid splashed in an elaborate puddle, causing some of the women in the room to yelp before they stepped back.
"Now, listen up, my child," the lady said. "I won't guess what you are thinking, though I know it must be nasty. Don't be afraid. We won't hurt you. We are all here to celebrate your coming into our world- the Land of the Dead."
"I-I-I…" The girl couldn't bring herself to say it.
"Afraid so, child. You are dead," the lady murmured, patting the girl affectionately on her shoulder. "Now, please. My name is Plum. Miss Plum, dear. Can you tell me what your name is?"
The girl opened her mouth right away, as it was a natural question. But suddenly, her mind went blank, though not before she had spoken.
"Alyssa," she said. "No, um, Lola? Er, Connie? Erm…"
"Oh, no," Miss Plum whispered, feeling more than slightly alarmed that the girl couldn't guess her name. She stood straight up again, holding the girl's hand tightly. "Child, come with me. We're going to Elder Gutknecht straight away."
…
Moments later, Miss Plum was escorting the girl down a winding road under a darkening sky. The girl was still crying a little, although she wasn't sobbing like a little child. It felt kind of strange, but she was glad, more than anything, that Miss Plum was there with her. She led the girl along with a gentle hand, although she was firm in getting to the tower ahead as fast as the two of them were able. They said no words to each other, just walking down the path until they had reached the cracking staircase that disappeared into dimness above their heads.
"Don't shake like that," Miss Plum said to the girl. "Elder Gutknecht has always known what ails a dead man—er, woman—when they arrive. He's just as kind a soul as I am."
"You sure he can help me—a nameless girl?" she asked.
Miss Plum nodded, before she hastily pushed the girl up the stairs, only ceasing the rough movements when they were at the top. They were surrounded by tall piles of books, most of them scattered around the decaying floor, with a great dome of broken glass allowing them to see the dark night sky. A high podium looked down over the scene, while some loose papers fluttered across the floor in a wind from outside. It was like the library of a wizard, because the books were ancient-looking, some of them covered with dust, their desks littered with abstract bottles full of peculiar substances.
"Gutknecht!" Miss Plum screeched out into the tower. "You in here? Oh, come on now! I won't have you out of here when a new arrival is in desperate need! Ah, you heartless old—"
"You call for me, Miss Plum?"
Miss Plum and the girl gasped when, out of the shadows, a withering old skeleton with a cracked skull, delicate bronze spectacles, and a walking stick made from a bone, walked out from the shadows. This short skeleton looked like he had been born in the dinosaur era, his bones probably about to crack at any second, the long hairs of his graying beard hanging like matted fur from his chin.
"Ah, yes," he said, coughing just a bit. "I'd know that voice anywhere. Good to be seeing you, Miss Plum. Who did you bring with you?"
Miss Plum pulled the girl forward, presenting her to Elder Gutknecht. "This is a new arrival, as I have told you," she answered. "She's a lovely young thing, isn't she? Just like our corpse bride, yes? But, oh, dear me, it's a shame. The poor thing was in hysterics when she learned what she is here for, and she cannot seem to remember her name, or what caused her to come to us!"
Elder Gutknecht, humming in a low, thoughtful monotone, looked up at the girl. He adjusted his spectacles, and scratched at his skull, which pulled apart when he touched it. The girl smiled and chuckled nervously, trying not to look repulsed by this odd sight.
"Ah, yes, I can see," Elder Gutknecht said, leaning on his walking stick. "Well, thank you for your services to her, Miss Plum. I'll take care of this child."
"I knew we could count on you, you ole' coot," Miss Plum said playfully, winking her eye at him and patting the girl's shoulder, before she sauntered out the door to the stairs.
Elder Gutknecht refocused his attention, chuckling. "Do you like Miss Plum, my dear?" he wanted to know.
The girl nodded her head and grinned, if just a little uncertainly.
"Yes, she's a good lady," he agreed. "She always cares for the scared, young ones like you. As do I, from time to time."
"What is this place?" the girl wanted to know. "I've never seen such odd, um, ingredients"—she motioned with her head towards the bubbling substances in the bottles on the desks—"before. What do you do up here?"
"I'm a practitioner, of sorts, of the supernatural Arts," he said. "I heal, I conjure, but mostly, I study, until someone needs me. And now, I see that you need my assistance."
"Yes," the girl agreed.
"So, you cannot remember your name, or anything before you came to the Land of the Dead," Elder Gutknecht said thoughtfully. "Well, if that is the case, it seems to be something that, in actuality, isn't very rare here—amnesia."
"Amnesia?" The girl put her hands to her temples, as if she were remembering something. She nodded, ever so slightly, after a moment. Yes, she did seem to remember that word. But now, if only she could just remember her name…oh, it was so frustrating…!
"Now try to think for a moment," Elder Gutknecht told her calmly. "Do you recall any sounds, or letters, perhaps, from your name?"
The girl closed her eyes, trying to think. She remembered the random names she had given Miss Plum when she was first asked, but those were all the good ones she could think of. Everything else she tried only made things come to her in a blur.
Elder Gutknecht only looked on gently, not saying any words.
"La…Lola…Cole…Nina…" The girl spoke softly under her breath, her eyes shut so tightly that her eyelashes were invisible.
Finally, she opened her eyes and looked, defeated, at Elder Gutknecht.
"That's all," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Everything else is pretty blurry."
Elder Gutknecht scratched his skull again, murmuring in the same monotone as before. "I see," he said. "Well, what if we came up with a name that sounds most like what you can remember? In time, perhaps you shall recall it."
Once more, the girl shut her eyes, and went back over the sounds she had spoken aloud. None of them were quite satisfactory, but she was quickly growing tired of not knowing who she was. The frustration was boiling—how was it there when her heart was not beating?—and now, more and more sounds were coming to mind, flooding her brain more easily than before. Maybe it was the strong desire to remember, or her overriding uneasiness at not knowing her real name, but in any case, she was getting there…
"Dear…" Elder Gutknecht said gently when the girl had been quiet for a long time.
"Kiki."
"What was that, dear?"
"Kiki," the girl said. "That sounds the closest to my name that I can think of."
Elder Gutknecht reached up, and clasped the girl's hand proudly. "Very well, then. Welcome to the Land of the Dead, Kiki."
She grinned.
"Now, you can run back to the pub," Elder Gutknecht said gently. "Maybe some happy times will jog your memory."
"Thank you so much," Kiki said gently, before she walked back to the pub, her spirits all anew. For the first time since she died, she felt in control, if it was just a little bit. Having a name to call herself by felt wonderful. It wasn't quite fully satisfying, but it was something at least.
She was already at the pub door, however, before she could dwell on any coming memories, and the skeleton with the bowler hat was already asking her if he could make a song out of her story…