Jasmine was dead. I could hardly believe it myself but she had been sickly. The funeral had nearly been a small gathering, a few of her friends had huddled in a small crowd of black feeling awkward and out of place. I saw a few people I didn't know standing in their own secluded areas. And I stood quietly a few feet from our Aunt Alicia, we paid our respects fully to the woman taken from us.
I had briskly returned to my apartment after that, brewed a strong pot of coffee and lit a cigarette, I tried not to smoke but it was a nervous habit, I had tried stopping for her. My sister, Jazz was dead, and she was all I'd had left of my family. I was alone now.
She fought for a good two years which was longer than I had expected or any of us had expected. Her illness, undefined, the doctor hadn't the faintest clue of what was wrong with her.
Weakly I held onto a small green notebook she had given me, she'd told me to read it. A promise I was going to keep, you don't break a deathbed promise, and I had no intention of trying.
I plopped heavily into my reclining chair and open the book.
Jazz's handwriting was as neat and well spaced as it always had been since sixth grade. For that I was thankful, knowing I wouldn't have to struggle through reading this, which she had stressed as very important. I took a few moments to regard the neat and pretty handwriting before beginning. And this is what she wrote.
I first met him outside the town library he was unique and I had accidentally happened upon him. It was a miserable day, a cloudy gray November afternoon that was cold and bitter. And I guess I was no better off.
I remember walking out of the library with a few books and I was awkwardly trying to find my keys. Neither of us were paying attention and we hit head on into each other. My books flew about and toppled around me and my purse skidded away and I recall muttering curses at him as I tried collecting my spilt items.
I felt sorry upon seeing him, he looked homeless and awfully lonely. He had shaggy white hair and bright green eyes, he was hunched over in a large brown coat that made his body look less scrawny then it had to have been. He looked charming in a tired sort of way.
I uttered an apology but he seemed to stare right through me as I collected the last of my books, only to find I had an extra one. It was an old paper back of Dostoyevsky short stories.
"You like Dostoyevsky?" I asked while handing him his book back, which through a quick examination appeared to be his personal book. He outstretched his hand and I saw he wore white gloves.
He smiled at me his green eyes taking on a sort of life that hadn't been present before. With a nod he tucked it into his jacket for safe keeping.
I struck up a conversation and we talked and walked for a while. Long story short, I invited him to my apartment for dinner.
I turned the page gingerly to find a drawing of said man sketched neatly in ball point pen. His hair was straggly and his bangs fell over his face, much like mine did, the coat as she had mentioned before did his body justice and covered him quite neatly, but it couldn't take away from his face. His eyes, even in a sketch were powerful and eerie.
I sighed to myself, I had never known how much of an artist Jazz had been.
At my apartment I made a small meal and pulled out a bottle of wine that I kept just for visits. I couldn't remember what we talked about but when we stopped I noticed the wine was basically empty. Suddenly he grew serious, breaking a short interval of silence.
"I'm not like other men Jazz." He announced. "I have, a sort of condition, if it can be called that."
He struck my interest. "Really?" I think at the time I was slightly plastered because I knew I sounded less sincere then anything in this world.
He nodded vigorously. "Everyone I get close to...they die. I don't understand it, but it's no good."
"I bet." I wasn't quite making a connection.
"It's not like I want to, but I can't help it." I saw his hands shaking and for a moment I was trying to make something of this, first thoughts were that he was mentally unstable and I was in danger.
I nodded and found myself staring at the coat. I knew he had a small frame no matter how much he bunched up in that coat, it was plain as day since his face was so thin. I don't know if I asked but he must have read my mind because he took of the great brown jacket.
Beneath he wore a one piece black suit, it had a silver collar, belt and the gloves the went up his forearms. It wasn't made of cloth but much rather spandex that fit his, not surprisingly, tiny frame. He had muscles that showed quite easily through it and as he stood up I saw the white boots that went to match.
I'm not sure how I knew it or if it was simply the wine but I spoke so surely. "You look a little dead."
He smiled with a twinge of irony. The glow that emanated around him would surely give me some clue, if I had had a clear thought in my head.
The air around us had dropped slightly and he slowly hovered off the ground, his feet turning to one wispy tail that dangled from under his belt. He moved over to me and laid a gloved hand on my shoulder.
"You're-you're floating?"
He nodded and picked up my hands from my lap. We must have said something but all of that memory I have is but a silent movie. Because the next thing I knew it we were flying high over Amity Park, above the churches and industries, the clouds filtering through our legs. I was wrapped in his arms, freezing but I wasn't cold. I closed my eyes in pure joy.
When I opened them again I was lying on my floor beside my couch. My head hurt and all I had left of his stay was a simple silver stand of his hair that had a slight glow to it. I took a shower to clear my head in the hopes of figuring the night out. That's when I coughed up blood.
"Everyone I get close to...they die."
That's when I drove myself to the hospital and you know the rest from there.
That's it Danny, my dear brother. It's your memory now, and I can't tell you what to do. Whatever you do I know you'll do the right thing.
Love, Jazz
I pushed the notebook covers together shutting it and closed my eyes. I didn't believe in the supernatural and I didn't think she did either, but from what she wrote it appeared she believed she'd been in the presence of a ghost.
That's when I remembered the man that I didn't know was standing at her funeral. He'd been there as I drove away and he'd been there before I got there. I hoped and prayed that he was still there. I raced into my car and drove as fast as I could to the cemetery a few blocks down.
And he was still there. I recognized him from my sister's drawing and I strode towards him and tried to play it cool. I lit up a smoke and walked over towards the tombstone and stood a few feet from it. He was out of it so I casually offered him a smoke, which he excepted. I struck up a conversation and slowly brought it around to Jazz.
"I met her a couple of weeks ago." He smiled in what he may have thought was a roughish fashion. "I'm quite the lady-killer, you see I have this condition..."
"Would you like to take a walk?" I offered and he smiled and nodded.
I hated him immensely for speaking of my sister in his way. It might not have even been what he said but they way he implied it made my blood boil. As the night wore on I could see a faint glow that surrounded him, that damned glow he used against innocent women. Slyly I lead him into an alley and after a quick look around he looked to me.
"What are we doing here?" He asked innocently.
I grabbed his shoulder and slammed him into the wall his head whacked heavily against it. "You killed my sister." I growled staring into his strangely calm green eyes.
"Yes Danny, you're right, that's me."
"You're dead." I threatened and grabbed his hair and forced his head into the wall repeatedly. And the bastard laughed the whole time like a drunk. I hit him harder and harder until he slid from my grasp and feel to the ground a slimy green substance leaked from his wounds.
He laughed and smiled at me. "I knew you'd do this."
I kicked him fiercely a few times in the stomach. "What's wrong with you!" I continued my attack and he refused to fight back and he laid there and took it. I punched him a few times for good measure but he still wouldn't stop me. With a smug smile he grabbed my shirt and pulled me down to eye level.
"You'll be just like me Danny, you set me free." He said calmly.
"What are you..." I gasped pulling back I could feel a cool tingling sensation running up my legs it almost burned.
"You'll be what I was, destined to kill the ones you love. There'll be no love for you Danny Fenton and no redemption." He cackled until it turned back to a cough. "Thanks man." He laughed again through his rasping voice.
I clutched myself fearfully the cool feeling was snaking through my body and once it hit my chest I felt pure agony. I tried to breath but could hardly maintain the lung capacity, instead I feel to the ground trying to take in oxygen desperately, and it hurt. It felt as though my heart was freezing slowly within me, this was well beyond suffering.
"I've been watching her Danny. And I knew you'd do this for me." His voice was faded and rasping was it me or was he becoming transparent?
It took every fiber of my being not to cry out in pain as I arched backwards in agony. I stumbled back into the wall opposite of the laughing man and stared at him wild eyed. My chest was constricted by now I knew I hadn't taken a breath. Frantically I clasped my hands over my chest and felt nothing. No pulse, no movement, and yet I was still here.
"You!" I growled in my rage and kicked him in the face crushing his nose. He laughed again manically his body taking on a faded form his glow dissipating.
"See you around." He laughed a giving me a salute and completely fading into the air.
I reached forward to grasp him but he was gone I found myself kneeling in his green blood. I stared into the pool of shinning green and saw my reflection clearly, my eyes were glowing an unnatural blue and my hair, once a fine raven color, was white as snow. In my mind I felt this odd insight, as though I knew things I never could've known before.
I could hardly stand the glow that outlined me brightly.
"Whatever you do I know you'll do the right thing." Oh Jazz. I could've cried.
"My goodness, you poor man let me help you." God help me, of all the days in my life I had to meet Samantha Manson it had to be on this night. I wish she wouldn't touch me, I wish she'd leave me. I closed my eyes.
Everyone I get close to...they die.
And that's what happens when I fall asleep in front of the fire on a snowy evening.