Beyond the Grave

        I don’t know why I slipped from the grim reaper’s cold grasp. My battered, ten-year-old spirit had arisen from the shuddering shell of my body, carried gently by the icy folds of black I knew to be my death. A sharp pain shot through me, and without warning, I was falling. Landing back into my corpse was jarring - a sharp kick to the chest.
         I slowly peeled open my dead eyes and turned my head. I was back at the site of my death, with the looming village gates behind me and the cracked ground beneath my collapsed body. Although I laid there, solidly conscious in the living world, I knew that I was still dead. Perhaps it was my gray skin, cold and peeling, or my legs, both of which having decayed so severely at the kneecaps that you could see right down to the rotting muscle and bone.
         I didn’t even have to breath anymore. My lungs were already deteriorating.
         Standing took no effort, as if I were never dead to begin with. I felt oddly disconnected from my body though - it was more like controlling a lifeless puppet than my own limbs. I stumbled around aimlessly for a bit, my flat gray eyes taking in the place of my death as if I had never been there.
         A hazy and vast expanse of dusty ground, cracked and rocky, consumed my vision. The sandy air that I had choked on when I died now hovered around me like a cloud. At last, I turned. My village stood there - a clear bubble of Mother Nature’s protective magic wrapped snugly around it. The iron wrought gates, tall and elegant, left a bitter taste in my mouth. They had kept me out as easily as they had kept me in.
         I wanted to get as far away from those cursed gates as I could - to walk as far as my rotting body could take me until I disintegrated into the polluted air. I turned briskly and left. As I began my trek, I tried to not think of the mother and the friends that I was leaving behind, but the mission I had to accomplish and the sweet revenge that would come with it.
         As I was walking, I felt a dull, barely noticeable pain in my right palm. The whole time, I had my hand unconsciously wound into a loose fist. Warily, I opened my curled fingers. I already knew what I was holding - I had been holding it when I died.
         The rune was engraved into the smooth back of a rock. The shakily-drawn symbols were all that I had left of my village friends. Before I was thrown out by Mother Nature for my “disobedient behavior,” they engraved their luck into stone and had given it to me as a parting gift.
         I let my fingers curl back into a fist, slowly rubbing my thumb over the thickly cut etchings.
         The village was now far behind me, its cursed gates still only barely visible. I smiled grimly, clutching my good luck rune safely in my fist. My only problem now was deciding where to go. I only knew that I had to get away from the village. My body was rotting away quicker than I had expected - my left pinkie had fallen off just moments ago. Whatever happiness I had in being back in the living world was quickly stifled by the harsh fact that I was residing in a dying body. I sighed. This must have been what Mother Nature wanted. She wanted me to not only suffer during my life, but during my death as well.
         Just then, as if she heard my insolent thoughts of her, Mother Nature’s sickening voice entered my mind.
         Gardenia, she hissed, you have been a bad child. You abandoned your village and disobeyed my laws just because you wanted to see what there is not to see: the outside world. You understand that your punishment is fair, do you not?
         My lips drew into a frown, but I did not say anything.
         Well, Mother Nature continued, I am merciful and do not enjoy seeing you suffer in that decaying body.
         I bit my tongue, which was daring to contradict.
         Because of my kindness, I am offering you a second chance to be brought to life and to live in the village. However, there will be a price.
         Now I was interested. I could still imagine my beloved friends’ faces and the sweet smile of my mother. What would I be willing to do to get them back?
        “What’s the price?” I demanded, a little too suddenly.
        Your rune, Mother Nature said softly.
        I thumbed the little stone, considering the pay-off.
        “Why would you want a rune?” I asked. The rune was very dear to me, and very useful as well. Giving it up would take away my luck in survival. Also, I knew better than anyone that Mother Nature was adept at lying through her teeth. How could I tell that it wasn’t just another trick?
        Runes have energy, Mother Nature explained. For me to maintain this dying planet, I need to use up a lot of energy. I need as much energy as I can get, no matter how small the source. Gardenia, why are you hesitating? This is your chance to redeem yourself.
        I stared into the distance with my dead, gray eyes, imagining that I was staring back at Mother Nature’s piercing red ones. This was the woman that killed my father for being curious, who alienated my friend for disobeying curfew, and who tossed me out of the village and left me to die for a crime I never committed.
        “I won’t,” the words were short and abrupt. They came out without a second thought.
        Excuse me? Mother Nature’s voice was laced with annoyance. I give you a second chance at the most precious thing that you will, after this, never achieve at the price of just one measly rune! How could you possibly refuse?
        “I can if I want to, and I’m going to,” I repeated slowly.
        Ridiculous, the voice replied. You truly are the same insolent little girl that you were when you died. I bid you farewell, Gardenia, for you only have so much time until that body of yours rots away.
        With that, an involuntary chill passed through me, and Mother Nature’s voice was gone. The rune was cold under my skin, but I could still feel its magic pulsing against my palm. Besides, I didn’t want to go back to that village of nightmares. I never did.
         I don’t know how long I walked after that. The thick smog that hung in the air made everything feel suspended in time. The only objects I passed was the occasional skeleton of a tree, blackened and withered, its crippled limbs forking up from the cracked ground.
         When I first saw it, I thought it was a tree. It stood motionless, as if its bones had rooted themselves into the earth. I approached it without hesitation, curiosity getting the better of me.
         As I got closer, I realized that it was not a tree. It was a fantastical creature, a unicorn to be exact, that looked absolutely revolting. It stood stooped with its grotesque head dipped towards the ground. Most of its deep purple skin was gone, torn away by weather, except for some that hung on its narrow back and the right side of its gaunt face. Ribs, riddled with holes and spots, were visible from underneath sparse muscles. Half of its face had disappeared, and on that side only the skull was visible, the broken mandible dangling by nothing but a tendon. The only bone left intact was a long, bloodied horn that swirled up delicately to a point.
         I stared at it, frozen in horror, expecting myself to vomit, but then realizing that I could not. This creature was perhaps more like me than I thought it to be. As much as it revolted me to think, I would eventually turn out like that too - standing listlessly as my body deteriorated into dust.
         I don’t remember what I was thinking. Perhaps I just thought that I had nothing to lose. I walked up to the decaying unicorn, slowly at first, then faster until my nose was just about touching its horn. I stood there, stunned, for several seconds - unsure as to what to do.
         After a heavy silence, the unicorn moved. It lifted its ragged head and looked at me with its empty eye cavities. I nearly jumped back in fright, but held my ground instead. Then it did something even more astonishing: it spoke.
         “Hello child,” it said, its voice sounding savage and raw. “It seems that you are no better off with that body than I am with this.”
         “Wh-what are you?” I stammered. “I mean, I’m sorry. I’m Gardenia. Who are you?”
         “It is alright, Gardenia,” it replied thoughtfully. “I know that I look rather terrible, but I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You may call me by the name of ‘Horrid,’ for my real name is something I don’t want to dwell on. As you may see, I used to be a unicorn. Now I am a bloodicorn - a unicorn in a body after death. You have the same dilemma, I see. Tell me, young Gardenia, what are your origins? Why are you here?”
         “I was from a village,” I said, gesturing behind me. “It is very far from here. Mother Nature killed me, and only my body died.”
         Horrid grunted in disgust.
         “Of course Mother Nature killed you,” he spat out. “She killed me too. I was the last of my kind.”
         “Oh,” I paused, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
         Horrid stared at me with an empty look, but said nothing.
         There was a silence, which stretched long across the space between Horrid and I. Nervously, I touched the knobby, exposed piece of bone where my left pinkie had rotted off. After a while, Horrid cleared his throat.
         “Gardenia,” he growled, “have you ever wanted revenge?”
         I took a small step back. Horrid was standing upright now, his broken jaw bared and a malicious look on his disassembled face. His presence loomed over me like a shadow.
         “O-of course I do,” I said defiantly. “I’ve wanted it ever since day one.”
         I’ve wanted it ever since my father was sent to burn.
         “I’ve wanted it too,” Horrid mused.
         “In fact,” he continued, “I could help you get revenge. We could work together. I only require one small fee.”
         “What is it?” I asked warily. “I don’t have anything to give.”
         I would give anything for revenge.
         “The rune,” Horrid nodded towards my right fist. “This body of mine is going to rot away soon, and as a bloodicorn, magic is one of the only elements that temporarily prevents it from decomposing. That rune isn’t much, but it will give me enough time to help you take revenge.”
         My fingers tightened around the rune. I hadn’t even known that Horrid had seen it. The warmth of the magic was all that was left of my friends. Would I really give that up? Could I really give it up?
         I opened my mouth to speak, but hesitated. Perhaps I didn’t need revenge so badly - perhaps things really did get better in the village once I was gone. However, the thought quickly passed. Revenge was what I wanted, and revenge was what I was going to get.
         “Here, take it,” I thrusted out the rune. “But under one circumstance: you must follow through.”
         “Very well,” Horrid smiled, flashing his rotting teeth and muscle.
        With one quick bite, he snapped up the rune from my fingers. When his teeth broke the small stone, I could hear the screams of children. They sounded like my friends. I grimaced, but the sound passed when Horrid swallowed it.
        “Can we go now?” I asked, a bit fidgety from the screams.
        “Yes,” Horrid said. “Get on my back. I know where you are going.”
        With caution I climbed onto Horrid’s bony back. I shivered as I hauled myself up. I could feel every muscle and bone shifting beneath my grasp on his loose skin. My hands were covered in traces of his blood. It felt like riding a pole - I could only feel Horrid’s spine beneath me. I held tight onto his neck with both of my arms, for my legs hung between his ribs, sometimes grazing muscle and dangling bits of purple skin.
        “Hold on,” Horrid said, even though I was already strangling his neck.
        He mumbled something I couldn’t hear and a flash of brilliant purple light issued from his horn, encasing us in a bubble. Slowly but surely, the light around us then turned from purple to a deep shade of red. There was a spiralling lurch and I gasped. I felt as if I were being shaken up and down in a giant crystal ball. I fought the urge to vomit, even though I knew that I was incapable of vomiting anyway.
        I was lucky though - as soon as it started, it stopped. The light slowly faded from around us, revealing that we were standing right outside of the gates to the village. The nausea was quickly leached out of me and replaced with disgust. I ran away from these gates for so long, but now I was back.
        I dismounted Horrid. With a few quick strides, I stood nose-to-nose with the gate, my hands against the cool metal. As expected, Mother Nature was waiting on the other side. She strutted over to me, a smug look on her face. I looked her up and down. It was as if nothing had changed. Her piercing red eyes and stark white skin hidden under layers of burlap cloak were just the same as the day she had killed me.
        “Gardenia,” she cooed, her voice laced with false sweetness. “It’s so nice to have you back.”
        “I don’t care,” I said coldly. “Horrid, I want you to kill her.”
        Horrid stepped up beside me, his horn lowered and ready. Mother Nature put her hands up delicately, a mocking look of surprise on her face.
        “Now,” she clucked, “I was not expecting such a welcome, Gardenia. But yet, you were the bad one.”
         “Kill her now, Horrid,” I ordered.
        Horrid shot an angry red light from his horn: fire. Mother Nature sidestepped, and the shot whizzed past her.
        “You can’t possibly kill me like that,” she said. “How pitiful.”
        I turned away. I could no longer look at Mother Nature’s mocking red eyes. It consumed me, her gaze reminding me that she was a murderer, that I had every right to assassinate her. I would do whatever it took. It didn’t matter who stood in my way, because she was a murderer. Now, she would pay for her crimes.
        I yelled at Horrid again and again to send his angry inferno at Mother Nature, but every blazing shot missed. Mother Nature cackled at my attempts. Finally, I couldn’t stand to hear her falsely sweet voice or to smell her ugly lavender stench.
I faced Horrid and whispered into his torn ear.
        “Burn the village.”
        Horrid was an obedient friend. He shot flames until the entire village was lit up in bloody red light without a second thought. I could already hear the screams emanating from inside the gates, and pretended that it was not my friends that were suffering. Mother Nature was nowhere to be seen.
        Horrid and I watched the flames rise and listened to the crackle of destruction until it was all dead and done. Everything smelled gloriously of smoke and death. The ashes were scattered all around. I knew that Mother Nature died - I just knew it. I could smell her lavender scent, choked and smothered by the heavy black plumes of smoke. Her body laid not far from the gate, slumped in defeat. I couldn’t see the face, but I imagined a look of despair, her ugly red eyes empty.
      My friends, my family - I had killed them all. However, I murdered Mother Nature, and that is what mattered. I didn’t shed a single tear. I smiled and laughed, for now I had finally fulfilled my purpose.
      “Thank you, Horrid,” I said, still laughing.
      “Anytime,” he replied.
      I could tell that the rune’s magic had run out for Horrid. His old legs were stuck and he became immobile. I stood there with him, laughing at the remains of my village and Mother Nature. We stayed there, looking at the aftermath of our victory for centuries. Horrid left first. He rotted away quickly, his purple skin disappearing, his muscles and bones falling apart until there was nothing left of him but a sad pile of bones.
      I left long after him. It was weird, feeling myself decay. My skin fell off as if it were only clothing and my muscle rotted away as if it were never there to begin with. Eventually, my eyes and all of my fingers and toes deteriorated, but I didn’t care. I could still see Mother Nature’s corpse in my mind, vivid as the day I burned her. I still laughed at the thought of it.
      When I finally fell into just an assortment of bones, my spirit lifted off. I greeted the grim reaper with a smile - the smile of a serial murderer. The grim reaper turned away, his black robes flowing behind him. He disappeared into the distance, abandoning me. I haven’t seen him since.
        I stood there, horrified, in my ghastly form. Why did he leave me? Everything I did was not bad - it was for justice.
        Perhaps looking at the remains of my village and the bodies of my victims is better than whatever lies after death. However, it feels lonely without Horrid’s presence beside me. I wonder where he went.