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Fiction Speculative Suspense

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Do not touch me.


Calm down. Let me take that from you, it would probably be best for us all if you ease up on the wine.


Piss off. It does not matter anymore if anyone sees, right? You ought to be grateful too, Deran. Cheers.


Keep your voice down! Please, stay seated. Stop!


That two-faced bast—oh! Sorry, you surprised me little one.


Sissy, are you leaving already?


… Well I—come now, do not fret. I shall be back soon.


… All right, then.



***



What is that you have there in your hand?


A bar of soap.


… Do you work here?


No…I don’t think so.


What is that supposed to mean?



Tell me your name then.


… I don't remember.


… Oh god. I believe my name is lost to me as well.



This is nonsense. Does anything come to mind?


Nothing. Well…nothing.


Are you sure?


I guess…just a feeling of pain in my ribs. A blackout type of pain, and then I found myself here, standing in front of this store. 


Ah, that is not very promising. Have you tried using the telephone at the till?


Yes. The dial tone goes on forever.


And all these random items in the aisles? Nothing good?


I looked but this—


—bar of soap is all you managed to find?



I apologize, I might be…starting to lose it a bit. Quite a bit, to be fair.


It’s fine. Let's just—I think we should try to piece together what we know and what we can try to find out. Okay?


If you say so.


Alright, what do you remember about how you got here?


I… I only remember feeling weightless, I could not feel my legs, I could not breathe and—well it was awful.


And you also found yourself outside the store’s entrance afterwards?


Indeed.


That’s interesting... I’ll tell you what happened before you got here, but you’re going to have to keep an open mind to believe me.


... Fine.


It’s about the soap—


If you do not drop that wretched soap—


—let me finish. 



So, before you got here I was going through all the aisles, right? When I walked through this one, something—I can’t place what it was—drew me to touch the bar. When I did…everything around me kind of morphed into another place.


Oh please, do not make light of this.


No, it really happened. It was like entering a memory, and I was someone else at some sort of dinner party. When I came back from it…you walked inside.


It cannot be—why are we here? I do not understand.




I think we’re dead. And this store…this store holds dead peoples’ things.



***



...get up. Get up, now. 



Do not roll your eyes at me, you little…you just get dressed now. I laid your clothes on the dresser, stop wasting time. We are to leave in fifteen.


Mother. I cannot wear this. The lacing almost suffocated me just the other week.


Skip dinner, I do not care. Your wardrobe consists of absolutely nothing but whoring attire. When did you buy all this rubbish?



I forbid you to place it back, come back here! You are not leaving with those ridiculous clothes on. They are practically undergarments!


Just leave me be.


Are you trying to embarrass me? Your father? What will the English families think of us? They already mock us.



Open this door at once, or I shall reveal your habit of drink to the entire club. Do not presume I am not willing to see you completely ruined.


… Go ahead, have at it then.


Oh, is that so? Shall I also call Lali here? Let us see what she has picked up from you, what she needs to rid herself of.


No! Just stop—I am coming out. 


Good. Now, strip and hand those over. It seems I need to inform Maid Sadia that your room is to be properly cleaned out.


Worry not, mother. You will not see it again, that is for sure...



***



It’s you.


What?


I’m seeing your life.


How do you know? 


I saw you in a mirror. 


... I—this whole time that life has been mine then.


I had a small suspicion that it would be one of us, but each memory trip was so quick and scattered in time, I could never piece them together. Also—there’s something else I found out. I’ve told you before that I can’t hear anything in the memories?


I believe so. Only thoughts with an indistinct inner voice?


Yeah, but with the thoughts I can technically hear other people in the memories. Maybe because of how our minds process words.


Yes, and?


The woman who you called mother—she said your name.


My mother… So, what am I called then?


Heera. It…fits you.


Why is that?


I don’t know, I just like that name I guess. 


Oh? And do you like anything else about me?


A lot of things.


Good answer. Shall we try that aisle over there today? Maybe we will finally find an item for me to explore.


Okay, but…you’re not curious about why I’m seeing your life in particular?


I am. Though, something tells me I do not want to know why.



***



Why ... 


She is bleeding too much…


You have already started. Might as well finish up.


No need…to do this.


Hold her.


Oh gods… You—you, no no stay BACK…


Idiot! Keep her quiet. No one can know about this. When you are done, place this in her hand.


Why?


Symbolism, boy. There is to be a mad killer on the loose, cleansing sin in the ton…



***



I cannot believe you touched it again!


I didn't, I swear! It—it sounds stupid but…the soap literally flew into my hand when I wasn’t looking.



Heera. Please say something.


Did you see everything this time? How it…ends?


Yes. 



Do you want to know?


No. But I know I ought to. Figure it is time to learn why that damned bar of soap is essential to my past life.


I think you should too.


What if—what if this is it? I would not want to leave you.


If you do… Well, I’m just thankful for meeting you. Even if it is after death.


I only wish we knew your name as well.


I don’t need to know my own name, I know yours and it's enough.

December 13, 2024 00:28

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