Falter Kingdom (25 page)

14

EVERYONE'S TALKING IN THE PAST TENSE, LIKE I'M
beyond being saved. But I look at the wounds, and I feel my heartbeat, and I know that I've already been saved once. This is probably not good enough for my bio. What I've written will not end up being the sort of remembrance I wanted for the yearbook, but then again, I'm fine with that. I understand that after you end up on the other side, you see this tunnel.

The kingdom is full of those looking for a way to make a connection. They dare each other to make a point, prove a point. They come to Falter Kingdom to be afraid.

But they don't go here alone.

I'm not alone. Not anymore.

My body is nearing its end. It can't take much more.

Eventually, I will look for a new host. It's how many spirits continue. I'd say we go as long as we can, but some spirits walk the kingdom and are able to find what they need for as long as they can. And that distance, it can be pretty great.

But I don't have anywhere else to go.

So I stay here in the tunnel. I sit on the bed and I use the things that I've stockpiled over time.

I often look up at the opening of the tunnel, expecting to see something.

But I don't.

I watch a lot of videos. The ASMR videos are some of my favorites now. No need to watch the unboxing vids; I've long since been unpacked. Possession porn, that's for the people who don't understand.

This body, which can barely walk, it gets only about halfway up the tunnel. I walk up there every once in a while. I'd say I walk up there once a day, but time doesn't seem to pass.

It does, but I don't feel it.

Everything feels like one moment.

And really, that one moment feels like forever.

I'm supposed to wait here. I'm waiting for someone.

I have to say, I saw a lot in the kingdom. It was a lot of the same. Everything kind of falls into place the same way. People or not people, it's energy; they are spirits, personalities, looking for homes, looking for friends, looking for families.

I would be scared, lonely, but it doesn't happen that way, not when my best friend is with me.

Hunter.

I never think about what happened before being saved. That's all in the past, and because this run is so long, the past might be a previous life.

But most days the body is my biggest problem. I know that it can't stand this.

I wonder if Blaire will show.

I notice that I'm running out of food. But the food will last longer than this body.

The thoughts grind away at my skull.

My immune system has hit a breaking point.

I develop a cough. It doesn't go away.

I feel every bit of pain, but because it's physical, I can set it in front of me, like it's some kind object. I can create that distance, the ability to understand it.

But it still hurts like crazy.

I begin developing my death.

How I die.

I know how I'll die, but something keeps me from finishing the whole story. So I keep going. It goes much like this, what has been recorded in memory, in words, but at one point, it splinters off and that's where I stop.

I get up from the bed and fall down.

I get up from the bed and fall back down.

This is a process, like anything else.

But when I can, when I get back up to my feet, I make use of it. Of the fact that I'm standing up.

I don't think about my past even though I know that my parents, my classmates, my friends often think of me. They think of me as finished. They have their own ending to how I die.

Every once in a while, I walk up as far as I can, getting as close to the entrance of the tunnel, and I listen to the wind blowing through the trees. It gets to be so much like a routine that I start counting down the number of times I have left before the body finally fails.

Maybe that's how it ends.

I'm not going to find another host.

But on the second to last time I walk the tunnel, I stand there in the dark, enjoying the sound of the leaves rustling. I hear the rustling until something else, more sounds—at first identical to the leaves—separate and turn into footsteps.

I count the number of heartbeats it takes before the footsteps stop at the entrance to the tunnel.

I see a familiar shape. Blaire.

No one goes here alone.

I wait, seeing if she will. Will she run the gauntlet?

If it's like she promised, I'll be there to run with her, like what happened when I did.

And when she leaps forward, in the first couple of steps, I feel my heart swell, beating rapidly. I shouldn't have doubted it for a second.

Nobody should ever be alone.

15

WHEN MAKING CONTACT FOR THE FIRST TIME, SHE WILL
choose a scene from a sci-fi movie. She will run, shooting at an alien horde, until we meet in an interrogation room. First thing I will tell her is “I saw you running.”

Next thing I will tell her is “I ran after you.”

The scene will unfold and it will because there's trust between each other. She could make that choice—wake up from the dream, get rid of me—but the exorcism will be pushed aside.

There will be two more things said:

“There's an end to the tunnel.”

And then, when she wonders, “What is your name?” she will pick out the name that was clear from the very beginning.

I will say it. “H.”

And she will fill in the missing letters.

It's like the letters were always there.

Just waiting for her to say them.

EPILOGUE

There's a field, not long from now. It might be flush with green grass, marked with flowers and other vegetation; it could be barren, gutted of any green. It's not important where or what this is, only that this is where we've ended up.

There is a car. It could be yours. The sky is about to burn bright, the bright yellow sun of a brand-new day.

Near dawn, you're sitting on the hood of that car.

This is the future. Your future. You are here.

This is the ending, but because Blaire's doesn't end, neither does yours.

You will close this book. You will finish the story, filling in the rest with what you see out there, in the distance. Look. What do you see?

You'll look out into the distance, enjoying the dawn of a new day.

You'll live that day, driving the car on to the next. There's enough there to fill another book. But not this one. This is not part of Hunter's story. It is not entirely Blaire's to own. It is yours, and this is just something for you, a message from them to you. Listen to your voice, what does it tell you?

The demons exist. If they don't find you, you create your own.

Fear is there. It never fades.

But know that you never have to be alone.

Never doubt yourself, just because everyone else doesn't understand.

There's an entire kingdom out there. Hold on to that image.

Be strong. Be vigilant. Just because you can't quite see into the distance, it doesn't mean it's not there.

Know who your real friends are.

We're all the same, eventually.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael J. Seidlinger
is the author of a number of novels including
The Fun We've Had
and
The Strangest.
He serves as director of publicity at Dzanc Books, book reviews editor at Electric Literature, and publisher in chief of Civil Coping Mechanisms, an indie press specializing in innovative fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. He lives in Brooklyn, New York, where he never sleeps and is forever searching for the next best cup of coffee. You can find him online at
michaeljseidlinger.com
, on Facebook, and on Twitter (
@mjseidlinger
). CREDIT: PHOTO BY MELISSA LIRAG