The Lifting of a Curse

The girl stood in the rain. Her clothes dripped; her umbrella was held safely tucked in the crook of one arm. She wrung her hair nervously and shifted her tattered sneakers in the mud. “Just a few more moments,” she whispered to the empty road. “Just…a few more…” her words faded into a breathy sigh.

A rusted bus rumbled up the road to halt in front of the girl. “…moments.” A slight smile parted her lips. The girl shivered and then stepped into the bus. Water pooled on the narrow ledge as she searched her pockets for change. “Take your time, child,” the driver, a heavy set old man with graying hair, said kindly. A wide grin decorated his face but the girl looked away; her grandmother’s advice rang in her ears, Don’ trust none o’ them devils, deary. They’ll as soon throw you to hell as smile at you! The driver’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Beginning to panic, she dug a hand into an over-large pocket. Finally, she found the coin. With a sigh of relief she held up the glinting piece of silver and slid it into the slot before the smell could fill the room. For some reason coins that had been buried with the dead picked up the horrid smell of decaying flesh. Quickly, quickly, she hopped up the last few steps and started down the aisle. A whoosh of air sounded behind her, the closing doors, and the ground began to move and buck. She sat in the first empty seat in sight. The seat was hard and springs poked through holes in the green plastic coating. Once she had settled she glanced at the other passengers and found them to be staring listlessly through the rain-streaked windows. Well, did you think they would be chatting or playing cards like children on a field trip? They’re DEAD! She turned and followed suit, gazing into the stormy depths outside the glass.
She didn’t know how long it was. Time seemed just as out of place here as she was but the drops of water were starting to blur and form pictures for her tired eyes, so it must have been at least a couple of hours. The bus leapt into a jerky stop and another whoosh of air came from the front of the bus. “End of the line.”
She stood up, resisting the urge to stretch her cramping muscles, and shuffled off the bus with the rest of its passengers. The landscape that greeted her was not pretty.

It seemed as if she had suddenly gone color blind. The bland, pale colors the passengers wore were drastically out of place. In the distance black mountains stood watch and close up squatted short grey houses, the two were split by a deceptively placid river and all of it rested under a white sky lit by a slightly darker sun. It was overwhelming and for a moment she felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her eyes from that awesome sight. Someone pushed past her, breaking her stare, and suddenly she could breathe again. She shivered again and started forward.

Find the nearest empty shack and hole up there. She was glad now for the words her grandmother had given her. And she did as she had been told, the first still shack she came across she skipped into. It was dreadfully bear and forlorn. Rotted food vegetables and stiff loaves of bread were shoved hastily onto a slanted shelf and a stack of grey rags piled in the corner were obviously meant to serve as a bed. Carefully she slipped her umbrella under the rags and sat on it. Her clothes were dry, somewhere along the long bus ride that had happened, but the night would be cold. If they had night here, she wouldn’t be surprised if the sun forever hung in the sky.
But never mind that. It didn’t matter if night came or not, she wasn’t going to sleep anyway. The dead needn’t sleep. So she wrapped a ripped blanket about her and settled down to wait.

“All aboard!” the boatman’s call was thin and wavering. “All aboard!” She stirred groggily. “All aboard!” The implication of what he said struck her. No! She couldn’t miss the boat! She jumped up, grabbed the umbrella and fairly flew from the shack.

Just in time, the boatman stood on the dock staring at her. “You be late, little missy.” She was late! What did her grandmother tell her to say? She couldn’t remember. She choked back a sob and said the first thing that came to mind, “I don’t remember! I- I just don’t-” she started to cry. The boatman looked at her and then stood back so she could step onto the boat. She had said the right thing. The three others in the boat stared at her without interest.

An hour later (it felt like an hour anyway) she still sat on hard wood, listening to the water lapping against the boat. By this time water sat on the inside of the boat too; swilling about her ankles. It was so cold…
A hard bump knocked her out of her reverie. Apparently they’d reached the other side of the river.

She and the others stumbled onto the rocks beneath the towering mountains. Stepping onto the hard earth, she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her: Here she knew what to do. She had been trained her whole life for this part of the job.

She wanted to run to the place she needed to go but instead she stumbled up the worn path with the others, not wanting anyone to think her behavior odd. She followed them until the path forked. The left fork was barely visible and was obviously never used. A deep breath and she took the lesser used. She didn’t look back, even though losing sight of the dead meant she could never find her way back.

Like everything else in the land the mountain seemed to go on forever without seeming to really go anywhere. Small pebbles were scattered on the hardly-discernible trail and she came into the habit of kicking them and watching them bounce down the cliff to her left.

That became boring. Instead she began counting them. She was into the thirties before she realized what she was doing. It was true that this place could make you forget! That could be the only reason she could so easily lay aside the lesson that had been drilled into her since she was the smallest child. Never leave anything behind. By counting the rocks she was assigning them names and numbers. She was giving them something and… leaving that something behind.
Panicking she ran back down the trail. Which ones had she counted? Which ones?! No. No. Calm down. Breathe.

In and out. In and out. Calmed, she reached out with her mind and did the first think she could think of. She felt the little pinpricks of light were the rocks and began pulling into her what she had so freely given. It was impossible to tell how long it took- the sun never moved- but it left her feeling worn and drained. She had better reach her destination soon.

No one in her family had ever gone this far and now all she had to rely on were rumors and speculations. But even that knowledge wasn’t enough to prepare her for what lay before her. A simple house. A simple shrine. And the shrine had color! It was painted in gaudy greens and reds!

Well. The Master of Death was a reputed jokester. Wearily, she opened the green-gold door and stepped inside. It was plain, all one room with hardwood floors, but for what sat in the center. On an embroidered rug surrounded by smoking incense was a solitary, overstuffed chair. And in it sat the fattest man she had ever seen, heavily decorated in jewels and bright clothes. “How is it that you came here, little one?”

“I walked.”

His eyebrow lowered with distaste. “And what is it that you carry?”

Wordlessly she held out the umbrella. He took it and examined every fold of cloth. A slow smile crept onto his face. “And what is your name? Tell the truth: I can sense a lie.”

She bowed, lowering her head until it was a hair’s breadth from the rug. “I have no name, Honored Sir.” It wouldn’t hurt to flatter him with the name.

“A nameless, living child comes before me, doing what none before has done, and offers my own umbrella in exchange for…”

“The lift of the curse, Honored Sir.”

“Ahh… in exchange for the lifting of a curse.” He turned the umbrella over in his fleshy hands. “Very well then. I shall give you a name.”

The girl held her breath.

“You shall be known as Alicia.”

There was a dark stain on the rug where her tears had fallen. “Thank you, Honored Sir. Thank you!”

“Now be off, Alicia. This woman and I have many things to discuss.” The Master of Death began to open the umbrella and Alicia didn’t wait to see what would happen.

When she stepped from the shrine she was back where she had started. It was even still raining and from behind her come the whoosh of closing doors and a rumble as the bus took off.