Text Copyright © 2014 L. R. W. Lee
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Woodgate Publishing
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PREQUEL NOVELLA
How It All Began
The instant Imogenia died, two shimmering figures dressed in official-looking, monochrome uniforms appeared at her side, making her jump. “Oh! You scared me!”
“Pardon us, Miss. That was not our intention,” replied the shortish one, removing his hat.
“We are crossover collectors, here to escort you to the terminal,” the taller of the two droned in a nasally tone.
“Please come with us, Princess,” instructed the first, raising his arm to direct.
“Wait, what’s a crossover collector?”
“We are agents dispatched to escort the newly crossed over.”
“Newly crossed over? What are you talking about?”
“They’ll explain everything at our destination,” replied the taller spirit. “Now if you’ll come with us.”
Imogenia hovered above the slowly fading scene. Kaysan, her younger brother, stood looking at the still form lying on the floor. The corners of his mouth started to turn up in a smile and his eyes narrowed in contempt. Her brain whirled, struggling to put the pieces together.
“Please…” the smaller figure repeated.
Imogenia looked down and noticed the yellow dress she had been wearing was now silvery white, like the clothing of the men before her. Realization pounced, dug in its claws, and the terrible truth tore into her.
“Kaysan killed me! I can’t believe he killed me. Why that little…” Indignation sparked anger, which rapidly morphed into fury.
“Princess, we need to go,” the larger agent urged.
“Oh, we’ll go all right, but you mark my words, that rat has not heard the end of this. He will pay,” Imogenia vowed.
“Here we are,” the smaller collector indicated shortly thereafter.
They stopped outside a hulking wrought iron gate that interrupted a stone wall. Fleur-de-lis had been artfully styled on the gate’s balusters, and the complementing archway announced in tarnished gold plate lettering, The People’s Cemetery. The doors swung open of their own accord to the high-pitched protest of metal on metal. Imogenia noticed a sign just inside: No Unauthorized Digging.
So glad they clarified that, she thought snidely.
The trio passed row upon row of weather-worn tombstones. Imogenia recognized the graveyard but had never before noticed the shimmery, towering structure they now approached. Her escorts directed her up a mountain of steps, pausing at a pair of imposing doors. All was quiet and deserted, so when the doors opened, Imogenia was unprepared for the scene that greeted her.
A hundred or more spirits navigated a high domed atrium in a fever pitch of yelling and a cacophony of indistinct conversations. Above the tumult, Imogenia’s escorts directed her to the end of a line of spirits stretching the length of the space. Caught up in watching the hustle and bustle, she did as instructed and inched forward while gawking at the variety of beings.
A tall, lustrous spirit ahead of her held his head in his large palm and kept lifting it above his torso to get a better view. A lively translucent spirit, clipboard in hand, gestured animatedly to his companion as they passed by heading in the opposite direction. A being clad in long flowing robes instructed a throng of pearly uniformed followers in what sounded like standard protocols. A pale man dressed in a luminous white tunic and leggings strode past barking instructions to a silvery dog following close at his sandal-shod heels.
Something sparkly drew Imogenia’s attention upward to where more spirits traversed a balcony that jutted out three floors up. More fascinating still, however, was the scene beyond the front of the line where a sign post stood. A variety of arrows pointed in disparate directions. It was too far away to make out the names on each monochromatic indicator, but everyone seemed preoccupied with it.
A trumpet blasted and two uniformed attendants escorted a lady spirit to the bank of a river beyond the sign post. Seven gondolas, complete with brilliant white, stripe-shirted gondoliers, bobbed against a dock. The river’s color changed from spring green to pansy purple, and a gondolier began serenading the lady as she approached. The song launched the woman into a fit of giggles.
The next spirit to leave the line received a clipboard as a uniformed official pointed him toward the Unclaimed Baggage office not far from where Imogenia now stood. Interesting.
“Move up, Miss,” a uniformed attendant to her left instructed, bringing her attention back to the line that she now led. She glided forward and studied the arrows. The topmost directional read Peace Paradise. Another, pointing in the opposite direction, indicated Hades. These destinations she understood. However, she was unsure about the ones below: Unclaimed Baggage, Unfinished Business Office, Guest Services, Employment Office, and Waiting Area.
Those behind her in line grew impatient. “Would you make up your mind?” one ghost moaned.
Certain the choice she was about to make bore lasting consequences, Imogenia bristled, “Got somewhere you need to be?”
A Guest Services official standing nearby floated over and said in a sing-songy voice, “Okay Miss, let me go through your choices with you. Spirits with no outstanding issues or problems head left to Peace Paradise. Spirits who are cold and seek to warm up or get a tan proceed right to Hades.
Given the general nature of Hades she had learned growing up, she raised an eyebrow. He can’t be serious.
Oblivious to Imogenia’s balk, the spirit continued by rote. “Spirits who have lost luggage while traveling to the terminal, follow the signs to Unclaimed Baggage to find your belongings or file a report. Spirits seeking to file claims against the Living, follow the signs to the Unfinished Business Office. Spirits wanting to earn a little extra money before retiring to Peace Paradise, proceed straight ahead to the Employment Office. Spirits choosing to wait for relatives or other beings, follow the signs to the Waiting Area. All others, proceed to Guest Services to my left. Please make your choice or return to the end of the line.”
With so much to absorb, Imogenia asked the official to repeat the list, receiving more groans from those behind her. She listened carefully but could not settle on one option. The ghostly queue grew more restless, making not-so-subtle comments about her mental capabilities, until she finally opted to return to the end of the line.
“Good!” one ghost exclaimed as she turned.
While Imogenia waited her turn a second time, she noticed the arrows pointing to Peace Paradise, Employment Office, and Guest Services disappear from among the selections as one spirit approached. Wonder what he did?
Arriving at the front a second time, Imogenia’s quandary repeated itself, and after more contemplation, she again decided to delay her choice, receiving cheers from impatient spirits behind her.
Her anxiety grew as she began her third trip forward. What should I choose? Still indecisive, she noticed two translucent beings dressed in silvery uniforms lingering nearby. She overheard one whisper to the other, “Looks like a bad end,” as he nodded in her direction.
“Dagger to the back I reckon from the looks of things,” replied the other quietly. “Such a shame, so young and
pretty.”
Imogenia whirled around, staring them down with an icy glare. “Do you mind?”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss,” replied the thinner of the two, removing his bowler hat. “We didn’t mean to offend.”
Imogenia turned back to continue weighing her options.
“Not takin’ her demise so well. Pity, these kind waste a lot of time stewing over what can’t be changed rather than resting in peace. Me, I’m headed for Peace Paradise first chance I get,” the shorter opined.
“For your information, I plan to rest in Peace Paradise,” Imogenia interjected, again whirling to face her judges.
The spirits exchanged glances but did not respond.
When Imogenia arrived at the front of the line for the third time, the uniformed attendant reiterated the possibilities in his same sing-song manner. Once he finished his litany, Imogenia asked, “I have something I need to do before I rest in Peace Paradise. Where do I go to exact revenge on my miserable little brother?”
“Well now,” began the official in an unhurried tone, “that all depends on whether you’re going to do it alone or with the help of other spirits.”
Imogenia had not thought about how exactly she was going to teach her little brother a lesson he would never forget. The thought of having help excited her.
“I think I’d like some help,” she finally replied after deliberating.
“Then follow the signs to the Waiting Area.”
“About time!” complained one of the spirits behind her. She shot him an icy glare and floated away.
The sign outside the Waiting Area was hard to miss, and she passed through large double doors into a spacious room with plush white couches arranged in groupings. Soul music played. Spirits lingered about, talking in hushed whispers. Imogenia saw an empty couch nearby, glided over, and sat down.
A tall, slender spirit from Guest Services floated over. “May I offer you a complimentary beverage while you wait?”
“Sure, what do you have?”
“Our special today is a Peach Pop Jack. That’s a generous helping of rotted peach peel mixed with our special blend of puréed poppyseed and a splash of arsenic to give it a kick.”
“Rotted peach peel and arsenic!” Imogenia interrupted. “Are you trying to kill—” She stopped herself and smiled. “Sorry, I’m not used to being dead. You were saying?”
“We also have our standard Boo Tea, curdled milk shakes, Soggy Surprise, and our famous Blackened Booger Sludge.”
Imogenia had never heard of these drinks, so she asked the lady, “Which do you like best?”
“Personally, I like the Peach Pop Jack. They add just enough arsenic to make ‘em kinda spicy, just the way I like ‘em.”
“Great, then I’ll take a Peach Pop Jack.” Might as well try it. After all, it can’t kill me.
Once the girl left, Imogenia selected a silvery magazine from the host of options scattered across the coffee table. “Prevention.” How ironic. Would have been nice to read this earlier.
As she finished an article on starting a new past-time, the attendant returned with a tall, foaming drink.
“Here you are, my dear. Enjoy!”
“Um…thank you,” Imogenia replied, unsure about the black frothing liquid belching over the top of the glass. There sure are a lot of new things to experience. She took a tentative sip and sputtered, coughing at the kick of the arsenic. It’s definitely different. Must be one of those “acquired tastes,” she reasoned, taking another sip.
What seemed like a relatively short time passed before her mother arrived. Imogenia glided over and gave her a hug. “It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed. Two spirits seated nearby glanced over and smiled.
“I thought you might be here, dear,” the queen replied. “It’s been three years, but you’re looking as radiant as ever.”
“Has it really been that long? I can’t believe it.” She led her mother to a corner of the room and they sat down.
“Your father and I have been beside ourselves since we realized what Kaysan did. Oh, honey…” her mother began, reaching over to pat Imogenia’s knee.
“Will Daddy be joining us soon?”
“I’m not sure. He’s in good health. It may be awhile.”
“No matter. We’ll wait for him before I set in motion the plan I’ve devised to punish Kaysan.”
Moments later, Hercalon IV, King of Oomaldee, joined them. “I stopped by the Unfinished Business Office but didn’t see you, so I came here.”
Imogenia stood and gave him a hug and kiss. “I’m so glad you found us. Mother said you were in good health—”
“I died of a broken heart,” the king interrupted. “There was no point to living once she passed on.” He floated over and wrapped his arms around his wife in a tender embrace. The queen returned the gesture and glowed.
“With my passing, Kaysan assumed my name and has become King Hercalon V.”
Imogenia’s temper flared. “I was to become queen when you died, Father! He will pay,” she snarled.
“Honey,” the king objected, “I’m not going to say I understand how you feel, but not forgiving someone hurts you, not the one you hate.”
“You think Kaysan shouldn’t be punished?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m concerned for you. Hate can change people. I don’t want to see it overwhelm you and turn you…” He paused and looked into Imogenia’s eyes. “I don’t want hate to hurt you more than you already have been.”
“I’ll be fine, Father,” Imogenia replied sharply.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” the queen redirected the conversation.
Imogenia outlined her plan in detail, overcoming the objections her parents presented. When at last they agreed, she smiled, adding, “I didn’t want to do this without your support.”
“Thank you, honey. We love you,” her mother affirmed.
The king forced a smile and placed a reassuring hand on his daughter’s shoulder as they rose.
“Let’s go to the Unfinished Business Office. I’ve waited long enough,” Imogenia declared.
They glided past Guest Services and Unclaimed Baggage, finally floating through the wall into a dim reception area where three signs hovered near the ceiling: Haunting, Destruction of Property or Beings, and Beta. Blues music filled the space, setting the mood.
“I think we need to be in the Beta line,” suggested Imogenia. “Haunting Kaysan or destroying his property would be way too easy on him for what he’s done.”
The Beta line was the shortest. It seemed most spirits were sticking to tried and true methods of punishing those who had wronged them. That, or they lacked the creativity to design some other consequence. After several minutes, a short, pudgy spirit with a round head and no neck called them.
He motioned for them to sit down in the chairs surrounding his desk. His name plate read Booker T. Brutish, Claims Administrator.
“Claimant?”
“That’s me,” responded Imogenia, raising a hand.
The man scribbled notes in a translucent notebook.
“And these?”
“These are my parents, King Hercalon IV and Queen Acelin of Oomaldee.”
The spirit glanced up and remarked, “I was sorry to learn of your passing, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brutish.”
“Now then, do you both support your daughter’s proposal?” he resumed.
“Yes, we both support Imogenia,” replied the queen, glancing at her daughter.
“Very good. That makes the paperwork easier.”
“I would like to add,” interrupted the king, “that I am against harming the people of Oomaldee. While I understand why it is necessary in this instance, I want to go on record insisting that as soon as it is possible, the people must be released.”
“I will note your request,” said Mr. Brutish, looking puzzled. He scribbled something else in his notebook then said, “You’ve piqued my interest. Let’s h
ear your proposal then, young lady. And just so you know, all matters discussed will be held in the strictest of confidence. If your ideas prove effective at reforming a soul among the Living or just righting a wrong to your satisfaction, they may be incorporated into our standard options. So let’s begin.”
“I want to cast a curse on the land of Oomaldee,” Imogenia started. “As you know, the land has enjoyed great wealth and technological superiority for hundreds of years thanks to its wise and generous rulers.” As she said this, she glanced over at her parents and smiled. “My brother is neither wise nor generous. The curse I wish to cast is a thick, dense fog.”
“Excuse me, but did you say fog?” interrupted the spirit.
“Yes.”
“Please explain.”
“When fog is dense, everything slows down because you can’t see. If I cast a fog over the land, it will quickly fall in its superiority. The people will rise up and blame my brother for their problems. He will become afraid of them and will fear for his life. Unless he changes, the surrounding lands will also take advantage of his weakness and attack.”
“But won’t this be unfair to the people?”
“Being ruler is the only thing my brother truly cares about. Only when he is brought to his knees will he repent from what he has done to me.”
“I see. And the completion time for this curse?”
“Indefinite. As long as it takes. Oh, and by the way, Kaysan needs to have unending life. I don’t want him dying and getting out of this that easily.”
The spirit finished scribbling his notes and finally looked up. “Very well then, let me file my report and I will be back with you shortly.” Mr. Brutish rose and glided out through the wall on the other side of the room.
Imogenia and her parents waited only a few minutes before the spirit reappeared.
“That was fast,” Imogenia asserted.
“The Board of Afterlife Affairs liked the creativity you showed in designing your proposal. They also liked the simplicity—the simple plans are usually the most effective. You have their permission to proceed. They’re very interested to learn whether it works.”
“That’s great news, honey!” exclaimed the queen, turning to hug both her husband and daughter.
“Implementation is down the hall to your right,” instructed Mr. Brutish, handing Imogenia her paperwork. “Good luck!”
Office equipment and other machinery droned and sputtered as they entered a brightly lit room. A hunchbacked spirit wandered about behind the counter, moving papers between the assortment of cubby holes populating the back wall. He muttered to himself, seemingly oblivious to anyone who approached. Imogenia set her paperwork on the counter and waited. After a minute, she resorted to clearing her throat to gain the spirit’s attention.
The hunchback stopped and looked up. “Won’t go away, huh? Guess I’ll have to help you.”
Imogenia shared a quick glance with her parents then turned back. “Mr. Brutish from the Unfinished Business Office told me to bring my paperwork here.”
The spirit shuffled toward the counter and Imogenia pushed her forms forward.
“A real hotshot, huh? Just had to try a beta test,” he muttered, reading.
“Please, sir.”
The hunchback waved a silvery hand to silence her. “Kids these days...in such a hurry.”
The king chuckled quietly and the queen shared his amusement with a smile.
Imogenia took to drumming her fingers on the counter.
“All right, everything seems to be in order,” the spirit announced, not looking up. He turned and disappeared through an archway. Imogenia and her parents retreated to the chairs lining the walls.
“What’s taking so long?” Imogenia growled after a time.
Just then a loud bang shook the office followed by a honk and buzzing. A cloud of black smoke puffed through the doorway and the hunchback reappeared, now soot covered. He coughed several times, thumped his chest, and expelled something Imogenia had no desire to see. At last he approached the counter and mumbled, “Your curse is in effect, Miss.” He turned and filed Imogenia’s paperwork in one of the cubbies, then resumed his puttering.
Imogenia and her parents lingered a minute longer, expecting further instructions but receiving none. “Come on,” Imogenia declared at last. “He’s not going to help us any more. Let’s see if we can stay at the castle so we can watch Kaysan’s punishment unfold.”
They made their way back to the Unfinished Business Office and applied for permission to return to their castle for the duration of the curse. The board quickly granted Imogenia’s request on the condition that they promise not to rattle chains, shriek, moan, or engage in any form of property destruction, as these punishments had not been approved and could, quite possibly, interfere with the beta test. They agreed, and a pair of crossover collectors was dispatched to escort them back to the castle.
The group quickly reached the castle from which Imogenia had been unceremoniously expelled three years prior, and floated upward to the attic.
“It’ll take a little effort to make it cozy, but this space will work well,” Imogenia assessed aloud, receiving a smile from her mother.
At last, Kaysan’s going to pay, Imogenia thought, a satisfied grin spreading across her visage.
As the crossover collectors turned to leave, one of them indicated, “An agent will visit periodically to check on the progress of this beta test.” He glanced down at his silver clipboard. “Looks like Horace Puddington has been assigned to your case. Good luck! We’ll be anxiously awaiting preliminary results.”
“Me too! Thank you for all your help,” Imogenia replied.