The Girl Who Was Buried in Her Ball Gown

The house was buzzing with excitement! My sister Nikki, and our grumpy (tired) brother Tim, had given the house a great going–over. Streamers and balloons were hanging in disarray all over the lounge and the two had worked on a ‘welcome home’ banner for Dad. It looked colourful and… well, interesting.

Mum was organizing the barbeque and eats. She made a cake and potato salad, along with some other salads and an assortment of other foods. Mum didn’t know how to operate the barbeque so she just, more or less set it up; Dad wasn’t able to, of course, until he was actually home. Then I was sure he would take over from Mum.

While they were getting ready to go and pick Dad up, Mum got a phone call from Patrick’s mother. She was unwell and Patrick was being released on the same day as Dad, about an hour later.

“Hello, Joy…”

“Oh, hi Cheryl, how are you?”

“Not well, I’ve got the runs and a thumping headache. I’ve been vomiting too, since about midnight. It was coming out both ends.”

“Oh, you poor thing, has Malcom been pampering you well?”

“Malcom is away on business for a couple of days. And my Patrick is supposed to be coming home today. Oh Joy, I don’t know what to do. I can’t pick him up and he’ll end up catching my bugs, can you help please?” Mrs. Winton was upset.

“Of course, I can. Do you want us to pick Patrick up? Max is getting out today too.”

“I know, I was hoping you could do that for me. Perhaps you could take him to my sister’s, she lives not far from you.”

“Oh, its fine, he can stay with us for a couple of days, until you’ve recovered. We have an extra bed.”

“You’re a legend Joy, thank you.” They chatted for a little bit longer, before Mrs. Winton had to go and vomit again. So, Patrick – my killer – was coming home too… and staying at our house! And in my bed! I couldn’t believe this turn of events. Could things get any stranger?

I’m actually not sure how I felt about it, I was a bundle of nerves. I knew that Patrick had served his time and that Dad had taken him under his wing and, well everything! But, my bed! The audacity! What could I have done about it anyway? I didn’t need my bed and Patrick did, so… ugh! I wanted this visit to be a family affair, to welcome Dad home, not another random, not another prison inmate!

As I fretted about the situation, I heard a tiny voice in my head, a sort of a little dickybird’s voice, wooing and tempting. It said, “There’s a pillow on your bed… put him to rest… permanently!” Where had that thought come from?

When the time came, Mum and the rest of my family jumped into her car, for the forty–minute journey to Ngawha Prison. We were all on our way (I hitched a lift, just because).

As we approached the gates to the carpark, a guard ran a sniffer dog over the car to see if we had any drugs on us — as if! The dog was sniffing at me for a moment and seemed to know that something odd was there, me! I moved away from the car and the dog followed me around the car, nearly looking right at me, as if I were truly there in person. It barked at me and I thought I had better hightail it out of there, so that Mum didn’t get accused of having drugs on board. So, I jumped into the car mirror and then ‘popped’ out from Dad’s cell room mirror. Oops, he was showering in his cubical, so I turned away… I’m not looking at my naked Dad; gross!

He was humming a tune and obviously happy to be going home today.

Eventually it was time for his release. As he was walking passed his cellmates, which included some enemies, he received many varied looks; from joy, hope, utter bitterness and twistedness. There were plenty of demons about too, hammering jealousy and hatred into the thoughts of a select few. Dad passed them and said his farewells, and final words of encouragement or wisdom, something for everyone there.

They took him to the guard–officers’ compound to pick up his things, which had been taken from him, nine months before by the guards. He signed the necessary paperwork, then they led him away to the lounge area where suddenly Mum, Nikki and Tim all lit up like Christmas trees as he walked in.

“Oh Max!”

“Dad!” Everyone was abuzz. He was coming home and there were tears all round (including invisible ghost tears; ugh, I was hopeless!).

As things began to subside and level out, our emotional rollercoasters were coming in for a landing. Mum said that we would be taking Patrick home and that we had a wait of an hour or two, before his release. Dad said, “Why don’t we get some burgers for lunch then, I’m over prison rations and cheap coffee.” So, it was decided that the homecoming barbeque would have to wait, as we headed into the legendary Percy’s Fish Shop in Kaikohe, on Broadway.

After the family had finished stuffing themselves (particularly Dad), they drove back to the prison to pick up Patrick. Why? Then they headed home for Dad’s homecoming barbeque.

I was surprised to see Martin and his mother there. They were already rushing about, preparing more food and drinks. This really was going to be a remarkable gathering: me (impromptu), my killer, my lover (hardly, but I wished it), my family, and all the very important people in my life who had been there, during one particular moment of significance, oh so long ago. All of them, here, in one place and at one time. This had become a very mysterious occasion, which I was not going to forget in a hurry.

The food was eaten, drinks were drunk but no one got drunk — thank God, that was not a state I wanted any of these people to be in again; it played too much havoc.

As the day progressed and the evening became the backdrop, I noticed my beautiful sister was getting a little too much interest (to my liking anyway) from two very different and hormonal boys… Martin and Patrick! But, she was cute and getting older; the funniest thing was how she was actually older than me! Well in the natural, human years, but I’m still the oldest, in spirit at least. I was thirteen when I had been killed and now, my sister was going to be sixteen, in another year! Where had the time gone?

Mum and Dad talked with Patrick, before he went to my bed to sleep. Dad was going to start his veterinarian practice up again and offered Patrick an apprenticeship. There would be a trial period first and then Patrick would do his theory at the local Polytechnic and his practical with Dad. Dad had always been too soft and forgiving; I wasn’t sure I was as generous as he.

Later, in the evening when everyone had gone to bed, I heard a familiar voice… too familiar. She was saying, “Kill him, go on… there he is, in your bed! What are you going to do about it?”

My dead body stiffened as if it was still attached to me. I’ve heard stories where someone had lost a leg, or a limb of some sort and they still had sensations as though it were still there, ‘phantom limbs’ I think, is what they were called. Well, my body suddenly became a phantom–like attachment to me, even though I was sure my bones would be dust by then and my flesh would’ve been riddled with holes made by earthworms, even before that; yuk! All of our bodies go back to dust, but I guess because I was still there, they remained an attachment to each other. My spirit and my body were in close proximity to one another and they still called to each other.

My body told me, she’s right! He did send me here to this, in between place. He should die! He should learn what I am now. He should be punished! However, my spirit said, no! He needs another chance, he has a right, a privilege to live, whatever. Leave him alone. Besides, he had already been punished, he was tortured every day and plagued with awful memories of what he’d done. Truly, I was at war! Two parts of me were trying to win over the third part, my soul. Both were currying favour with… myself!

“Do it, silly girl. It wouldn’t be hard and it wouldn’t take long. DO IT!” He looked peaceful, and blissfully unaware that I was there looking at him, hating him, yet I could also hear Dad’s voice, protecting him. Dad had taken him under his wing in prison. He had saved him from the gorilla and his wickedness. At least the gorilla didn’t contemplate killing Patrick! Using him, yes. Killing Dad, absolutely… but he didn’t. Patrick was still alive; for now.

“There’s the pillow Emma, go on, it won’t take you long. He won’t feel anything, he’s asleep. It’d be siiilllleeeent!” I couldn’t see her but her voice was smooth, dripping honey — and resonating through my soul. I had learned enough about her to know who she was; what she was.

The chameleon girl–come demon! Yes, I knew her voice alright and I knew her character too. Should I? Who would know? No one, well, maybe no one. She would know and who else? Patrick would, eventually; he’d see me as he passed! God would too! The more I thought about it, the more powerful I felt!

My body felt rotten and maggot infested; like when I had passed through Jim, while trying to rescue my sister from him, so long ago. My spirit felt disgusted as well with these thoughts and my soul… what did my soul feel like? Perhaps, it was like a faithful trained Labrador dog, but which master would she obey?

“Come on Emms, hurry up about it, will you? Take your revenge! Utu! Utu! REVENGE!” I saw the pillow, I heard his soft breathing and saw his chest gently rising and falling, unlike my own breast, mine didn’t move at all, or even grow anymore! He was sleeping deeply. Yes, I could do this and in the normal world, no one would know how it happened; how could they? But, in my realm, where I am! Oh yes, it would not go unnoticed. It would be evil.

I remembered another voice that had spoken to me, Dad’s! He said “Where do dumb decisions take you? Where will you go Emma? God loves all of his kids, even his bad ones. Patrick is not bad, he just made some dumb decisions. Will you too?”

“Oh Emma, silly girl! He needs to know what it’s like. He needs to be punished! Emma!”

“Shut up! Shut up, you wicked and twisted… grrr! FEMALE DOG!” I couldn’t say the alternative, although my body screamed it. “Get out! Go back to your hole in the ground; I know your devices! I know your wickedness and who your master is! He WILL NEVER BE MINE! Now GO!” And just like that she just fled, fled like a scared rabbit.

I took another look at Patrick and didn’t feel so much hatred toward him. Yes, he did deserve another chance and who was I to take that from him?

When I left the room, I wanted to see Martin again, alone. I wanted to see if he still remembered me, if he still loved me? Even though it was foolish, but I just wanted to know. So, I left Patrick asleep in my bed and contemplated how this would all turn out.

Martin was also asleep and I watched him for a while, before I decided to mind–meld with him. I felt naughty, but wanted to watch him dream... to see if he would have another one of those boy dreams I didn’t understand. Oh, he was dreaming... about me?

At first the dream looked like an old fashioned black and white movie, being screened from one of those noisy, old–school movie projectors, the ones that would cast a shadow of your head across everyone’s view if you stood up in front of it, which was very embarrassing if you just wanted to go to the loo. But as the movie progressed it changed and became a modern quality, high definition movie, then it progressed out of the screen–type boarder of a TV and into a real–life scene.

It went like this… I was walking along a beach towards him. I was far away and drawing closer to him and we were laughing and throwing a ball to each other. As I threw the ball to him while coming closer, he caught it. He threw it back to me and it ended up in the sea. We both headed for the water to retrieve it and as we went into the water, the quality of the images changed and so did I.

Slowly at first, I was changing, everything was changing. My hair was going from wavy, into straight and a darker shade; my face was moving too, re–forming. My nose changed and then my chin. My girlish body was becoming shapely and more mature. The pitch of my voice changed slightly too and I recognised the new voice… and then the new face… it was my little sister and she was beautiful.