WATTYS 2023 SHORTLIST
Cara, a troubled college dropout, finds herself slowly falling for a handsome stranger - who turns out to be Death incarnate. But the arrival of a mysterious being puts Death's home for lost souls and his very existence at risk...
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"Cara, let me explain!" D shouts, trying to grab onto my shoulder. But I dodge out of the way, and his fingers pass...through me. My shoulder stings with the sensation of getting out of a cold shower, except it penetrates through to my very bones, feeling as if the flesh has been peeled away.
I stare at him – at his worried eyes, his deceptively solid-looking body – and then I do the only natural thing to do. I scream again and run down the stairs.
I run through the front door, I run down the front yard, and I keep running onto the main street as long as I can physically manage. I don't give a damn that I'm wearing skimpy pajamas or that it's forty degrees outside. I don't care that my heart is on the verge of exploding or that my legs have turned to jelly a while ago. I don't even give a shit that I left my phone and all of my things back in the frilly pink bedroom.
All that I can think about is getting as far away from that house of horrors as fast as humanly possible. Which turns out to be pretty fast, when I ignore every warning sign in my body telling me to slow down.
The dirt road soon turns into pavement, the ditch becomes a sidewalk, and as my lungs start to seize I catch my first glimpse of civilization. I finally allow myself to slow, clutching at the stabbing pain in my side. This damn town will be the death of me.
The sun hasn't fully risen yet by the time I stumble into the town square, and I feel like I've become a completely different person since the last time I was here. I probably look like one, too, after that lovely trip through the woods.
For starters, yesterday I hadn't believed in ghosts. Or anything that could be remotely attributed to the paranormal. Because I was still sane.
You still don't believe in ghosts. The rational part of my brain was curled up in the fetal position, shoving potato chips into its mouth while rocking back and forth. Everything is perfectly fine! No ghosts here. No siree. Just a trick of the light. Just a cold draft. You haven't lost your mind at all!
What do you do when the rational part of your brain is in denial?
All of the shops in the square are shuttered and dark except for The Neverton Nest. Through the window, I watch as Mem switches on the lights and carries a broom into the dining room. I'm at the door before I know what I'm doing. I'm pulling it open, I'm walking up to Mem, her eyes are widening, my mouth is opening–
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
I blink. Mem blinks.
Okay, I hadn't meant to come on that strong. But I was so overwhelmed with anger and terror and confusion that the filter between my mind and my mouth had taken a long-awaited vacation. And I was perfectly justified.
"Cara, I don't understand," Mem says, setting down the broom. The closer I look at her, the quicker I realize that she must have just woken up. She is still wearing her fuzzy purple slippers. I can see the dried sleep in the corners of her eyes, for God's sake.
