Shedding Your Past

The zombie staggered down an alleyway, disappearing into the gloom of the night.

Viola Rodriguez frowned. That woman had been dead, all right: the eyes, the shamble, the stench, the groan. She would have run off screaming if she’d spied the creature a week ago. But it wasn’t a week ago; it was now, and Viola was a changed woman, unfortunately. And what did she have to lose? You couldn’t become both, could you? Besides, this was the first time she’d seen another monster – besides the one that haunted her dreams. She needed to know if there were others in the city. She had to find people who didn’t laugh her out of the room when she tried to explain what was happening to find a cure. Of course, the absurdity of creeping after a zombie – and not the other way around – was plain to her. With a sigh and a shrug, Viola followed after the reanimated woman.

The alleyway lay in darkness. Somewhere, water drip-drip-dripped. The shuffling footsteps of the walking corpse whispered out of the shadows. Three halting, thudding door knocks ricocheted like gunshots. A moment later, a rectangle of warm yellow light opened at the far end, into which the zombie disappeared. The door closed again with a metallic bang, leaving Viola in the gloom again.

Her heart – more muscular and primal than before – beat war drums in her chest. Viola glanced over her shoulder at the street behind, then hurried toward the door. Her footsteps echoed. When she knocked on the rusted metal door – with a sliding peephole – it rumbled thunder.

The peephole slid to the side, and a bandaged man wearing shades looked out at her. ‘Hello there. You’re new here, aren’t you? Well, before we let you in, we need to know a few things, I’m afraid. First, do you have an affliction?’

‘A-An affliction?’

‘Yes, an affliction.’

Her mouth dried up. ‘What do you mean?’

The man in sunglasses hesitated. ‘Are you… normal?’

That zombie woman had come through here. And this chap wasn’t screaming and reaching for the baseball bat. So, was he on the level? And if so, would she tell this stranger what she was? It had taken all her nerve to approach her doctor, and he’d burst into chuckles. He’d prescribed more sleep and less stress. Helpful. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘I’m not normal.’

The bandaged man nodded. ‘And one last question, if you don’t mind. You can whisper it, if you’re afraid of others overhearing. But what – exactly – is your affliction?’

Red heat rose to her cheeks. In for an undead penny, in for a paranormal pound, she supposed. She leaned close to the peephole and whispered her shameful secret to this strange man.

The slide clanged back into place, leaving Viola alone in the dark.

Well, that was that, then. Viola had shared her heart’s innermost horror and had faced rejection. The intelligent thing to do would be to turn and run now. Before they got a proper look at her face and proclaimed, ‘There she is, the crazy lady! You won’t believe what she thinks is happening to her!’ She turned to leave.

The rectangle of yellow light bloomed into the alleyway, enveloping her in its warmth. The sunglasses man’s voice spoke up behind her, softer than before. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe here. This is the place for you. My name is Wade, and I welcome you. Come, relax, and make yourself at home. We’ve prepared drinks and snacks for as many different afflictions as we can manage. Within the scope of the law, of course.’

Viola’s raised hackles lowered a little. She had been expecting laughter, ridicule, anything. But this acceptance? It caught her off guard. She turned to face him. ‘You’re not… You don’t think I’m—?’

He chuckled. ‘No, no! Trust me, you’re not alone in this. Come, meet the others with me. There are many of us. We each have an affliction, and we’re each dealing with it in our own ways. That’s what this group is for – a place to talk about it amongst our peers, without judgement or mockery.’

‘This… group?’

He offered his hand. ‘Why, yes, it’s a self-help group. I run it. Pleased to meet you. Come, come in. What’s your name?’

She shook his hand – also wrapped in mummy-like gauze. ‘Viola. It’s… nice to meet you too, um, Wade.’

Wade led her inside, where she found a community rec room with a circle of metal chairs. Most, but not all, had an occupant. Here was a chap wearing clothes that would have gone out of fashion before the Second World War. Over there was the zombie she’d tailed here. A faint spectral orb flickered here, condensation trickling down the metal seat. And there was an empty seat for her. He guided her to it. ‘Please, take a seat, Viola. Come and meet the others.’

Viola smiled at the array of characters. She didn’t know what to say. ‘Hi, everyone.’

Wade pointed to the woman Viola had tailed here, followed by the others seated in a circle on metal chairs. ‘Here’s Zoe Snider. She’s a zombie. And this is Hubert Pauley, a vampire. Over there is Robin Carr, who’s a ghost. You can’t see him, but he’s sure there. Say hi, Rob!’

Viola made eye contact with each of them and nodded. ‘Hello. Hi there. Yes, hello.’

Holding a mirror and inspecting a scrap of skin, the zombie raised her clouded eyes and groaned. The vampire, a shy-looking man who looked very uncomfortable, raised a hand in a wave. A gust of wind sighed from the direction of the ethereal glow.

She looked to Wade, who’d taken the last seat.

He sighed and took off his sunglasses. ‘And, of course, there’s me – the invisible man.’

Viola couldn’t help but gasp.

Beneath his glasses, there was nothing.

She mumbled an apology.

Wade nodded and waved her away. ‘We’re all gathered here because we’re each struggling with our afflictions. You wouldn’t know it, but I used to be a renowned tattoo artist. And, like any self-respecting tattooist, I had ink covering me head to toe. Now, neither you nor I can admire my body’s artwork. What sane person would get inked by someone without ink, never mind someone they can’t see?’

Viola reflected on this. The most essential thing in this man’s life had disappeared before his eyes. And yet, he was carrying on, running this little circle for others with ‘afflictions’. He was helping and sharing his story to make others feel less alien – less monstrous.

‘Let’s go around in a circle and each explain our challenges. Zoe, how about we start with you?’

Viola’s eyes darted to the zombie. Had she known Viola was tailing her? If so, she wasn’t letting on. Either that or Zoe knew that Viola was a similar individual and led her to a safe place. She smiled at her.

Zoe put down the mirror and snarled. She groaned, sighed, and gasped. Her clouded eyes twitched from person to person. She lifted her make-up mirror and then gestured at her rotting face. She wailed. All the while, Hubert was nodding. ‘Zoe here turned into a zombie last year. She used to be a famous model, but now her flesh is rotting and her skin is peeling. We’re all trying to find skincare routines that help her. We recently all donated some money to get some special Nivea products.’

Viola raised her hand to her heart. She felt like a beast for having seen her and thought, ‘There’s a dead woman.’ Zoe must go through difficulties daily. ‘Oh, you poor thing.’

‘And me,’ said Hubert with a wry smile, eyes focused on the floor. ‘I’m a vampire who can’t stand the sight of blood. It makes me faint. Which, in turn, makes it rather difficult to eat. But Wade donates blood and bakes it into food for me, to help me stay alive. He’s a good friend.’

Her eyebrows rose. She looked to the invisible man, who gave a nonchalant shrug.

Robin, the ghost, wailed. The lights flickered overhead. The temperature dropped. Wade pointed. ‘Robin here used to be a bodybuilder. Won many competitions for it. Now, he doesn’t even have a body. We’re all looking into possession, as a way for him to have a physical presence. Not a person, mind you, but a substitute. A manequin, or something. So far, nothing’s worked. But we’re working on it.’

Viola smiled at the spectral orb. ‘I’m sure you’ll get there.’

Wade turned to face her with his hollow eyes. ‘And you, Viola. I know this must be very new to you. Even a little frightening. But would you like to share your affliction and your struggle with the group?’

Her mouth went dry. It would be best to blurt it out and get it over with. ‘I— I’m a recent werewolf convert who’s allergic to her own fur.’

Nods and grumbles of understanding rippled around the group.

‘I wanted to know – needed to know – if there’s a cure. Do you know of anyone, or anything, that can reverse this curse? I— I can’t live like a werewolf. I can’t do it. I have a massive amount of respect for you all, and I mean no insult, but I can’t live like this. To wake up, not knowing where I’ve been. To be coughing and sneezing and wheezing, eyes red in my own apartment. I—’

Wade was shaking his head. ‘No, no, Viola. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I hate to be the one to tell this to you, Viola, but there is no cure. You’re not the first werewolf to come through those doors, and they’ve all asked the same question. I’m afraid what you’re seeking doesn’t exist. There’s only one way to deal with werewolfism, and that requires the death of the individual. Here in this group, we do not advocate for such measures.’

Viola reeled backwards as though struck. The words reverberated through her skull like a flashbang screech: no cure. When she spoke, her words came out choked. ‘There’s… no cure? You mean, I’m stuck like this? Forever?’

‘I’m sorry.’

Tears sprung up in her eyes, and the room spun around her. A high-pitched ringing blurred out all sounds. Viola closed her eyes, moisture trickling down her cheeks. She swore under her breath.

‘But that’s not to say there’s no hope, Viola,’ continued Wade. ‘We’re all in this together and—’

Viola got to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to leave.’

Stunned silence blanketed the room. All eyes were upon Viola. Wade nodded. ‘I understand, Viola. But please know, we’re always here for you. We get together Tuesdays and Thursdays every week. You can always find us.’

She swallowed, a click in her throat. ‘Bye, everyone. Sorry for… this.’

The voices murmured and mumbled behind her, getting quieter with every footstep. The door creaked open, and the darkness of the night rushed in to greet her.

Viola paused, half in, half out, the door held open. The situation was hopeless, yes. But did that mean she had to lose hope? If she left now, she knew she’d never come back. She’d never be able to face them all again. It was a rough transition, and what she was going through was strange. But she didn’t have to do it alone. She had a choice here. She gulped in heavy breaths, her chest tight.

All eyes swivelled to her when she reentered, and everyone smiled – even Zoe with her rigor mortis. Even Robin – somehow – sent a happy wail and gust of air that felt positive. Through his bandaged face, Wade’s grin was undeniable. ‘Good to see you changed your mind, Viola. I know it’s rough, but we’ve all been there. It sucks. Ah, sorry, Hubert. I mean, it’s crap. Please, take a seat. We were talking about things that might help.’

‘Oh?’

Zoe, the zombie, snarled and made a circular gesture with her hands. Hubert nodded and interjected. ‘What Zoe is getting at, is that one of those Rumbas might be a good investment for you in the future. It’ll hoover up all the hair whilst you’re passed out after a transformation. It won’t fix the problem, but it might lessen the allergic response.’

Robin the ghost howled, and the clocks stopped dead. Wade nodded. ‘Excellent idea, Robin. Viola, have you ever thought of hypoallergenic bedsheets and so on? They might help. As would removing as many cloth materials in your home as possible – such as rugs. Wooden floors are much easier to sweep up hairs from, and the fur doesn’t get caught in the fibres.’

Viola looked around this group of monsters and creatures. They each had their share of problems. But here they were, trying to get on with it and help each other. You might not be able to change the situation, but you could change how you reacted. She took a slow breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth.

And then she sat back down.