This is my first round entry for the NYC Midnight Short Story Competition
This was for heat 8 which was:
Genre: Ghost Story
Subject: Wedding Dress
My story is called “The Protector”
It was ranked as the #1 Finalist. Thanks for reading!
A cigarette dangled from Isaac’s mouth as he lay half asleep on his couch. After five beers and two whiskeys he was dangerously close to the bliss of passing out. An infomercial provided the background noise, and Isaac let the mundane banter lull him off to sleep. He shut his eyes for a moment, letting the comfort of sleep wash over his exhausted body. He opened his eyes rolled over on his side as the ash fell from his cigarette onto the floor, but he was too tired to care. He inhaled again and rested his eyes for a longer moment.
The protector watched all of this intently. He knew how all of this would play out. The cigarette would fall from Isaac’s mouth which would slowly burn a hole in the cushion. Then once the heat hit the couch’s stuffing it would ignite into a fireball, killing Isaac and then would burn down the entire apartment complex. Quite an embarrassing way to die, the protector thought. He counted to thirty and seeing that Isaac had not moved, he decided to begin. The protector’s plan was simple: first, remove the cigarette from the man’s mouth, then whisper into the sleeping man’s ear. Simple and silent, it was an easy plan.
Focusing on his hand, the protector glided it close to Isaac’s lips, trying to grab the cigarette without waking the sleeping man. Careful, he warned himself, be very careful. On the first pass, the protector’s hand slid right through the cigarette. Not much time, he warned himself as he prepared to try again. With a pinching motion he grabbed the filter and pulled the cigarette straight from the sleeping man’s mouth. As he pulled he realized the filter was stuck to the man’s upper lip. In too deep now, he thought as he quickly yanked the cigarette from Isaac’s mouth, bringing with it a piece of skin.
The pain jolted Isaac from his sleep. He saw the man standing above him holding a cigarette like a candle. “Who the hell are you?”
“Calm down kid,” the protector pleaded.
“Get out of my house!” Isaac said as he kicked his legs at the man. The kicks missed their mark and Isaac sprung to his feet and threw a right cross at the intruder. His fist sailed right through the prowler. Isaac backed away from the man. “What the hell?”
“Calm down, its ok. I just want to put out this cigarette and then I will leave,” the protector said quietly.
“Is that mine?”
“Yes, you fell asleep with it in your mouth. You would have died.”
“Wow,” Isaac said exasperated, “You’re saving my life.”
“Yes.”
“Are you my guardian angel?”
“Not exactly.”
“But you are saving my life?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I have common sense; you don’t go to sleep with a lit cigarette,” the protector said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Isaac stared at the man. “How come I can’t punch you?”
The protector sighed, “Because I am on a different plane of existence than you.”
“Are you a ghost?”
The protector hesitated, “Yes.”
“But you look like you’re alive.”
“That’s very kind,” the protector said with a twinge of annoyance in his voice.
“So what’s it like being dead?”
“You see, this is why I don’t like talking to the living,” he said throwing up his arms.
“What’s wrong with that question?” Isaac asked.
“Listen kid, the only reason I am talking to you is because I have a message to deliver to you,” the protector said as he put out the cigarette in an ashtray on the coffee table, “Ok, Let’s get down to business,” the ghost said as he took something out of the back pocket of his grey slacks. He looked at the invisible object and began to read. “Isaac William Martin, age twenty six. Semi-religious Lutheran, single, no girlfriend,” he said casting his eyes at Isaac, who just shrugged his shoulders. “Works at a public relations firm and has for the last year and a half, specializing in pharmaceutical companies. You like this work?”
“It’s a job,” Isaac responded apprehensively.
“Wonderful,” the ghost said with little patience, “Now I don’t have much time, so let’s get down to business. I need you to make a,” the ghost stared at the object in his hand, “W dress? W dress? Oh, a wedding dress. You need to make a wedding dress.”
“I’m drunk, aren’t I? This is some messed up drunken dream. A wedding dress?” Isaac fell lightly down on to the couch and stared at the ghost in front of him. He had dark brown skin and his dark black hair that was combed in a part on the side of his head. The ghost had dark black eyes that slid in perfectly with his clean shaven face. The ghost wore dark gray slacks and a white shirt and a large silver wrist watch. Isaac noticed that the ghost did not have any feet; instead he floated a few inches off the ground.
“I’ve seen crazier things before than someone making a wedding dress; believe me,” the ghost said in an attempt to calm the man down.
“I bet you have-“ Isaac paused, realizing he didn’t know what to call the ghost before him. “Wait, what’s your name?” Isaac interrupted.
A smile graced the protector’s face, “Anand.”
“Huh?”
“Anand. An-un. It’s Indian.”
“Like Native American?”
“No, like the country.”
“Are you from there?”
“Lived there my entire life.”
“Your English is very good, no accent at all.”
“I speak every language perfectly now. All of us do. Learning how to read English, however, is still quite difficult.”
“You have to learn how to read?”
Anand sighed as he looked back at his hand, ignoring the question. “Well this is odd, it says I can tell you everything. This really is a bizarre case.”
“What are you talking about? What are you looking at?”
As soon as the words left Isaac’s mouth, an index card materialized in Anand’s hand. “We’re very organized. It has all relevant information on it about the subject, which in this case, is you. Unfortunately, since things are changing so much we have to write things down, no computers up there. This one was written by an American so it is very difficult to read.”
“So you get assignments of people to save?”
“Maybe it’s easiest if I start from the beginning,” Anand said pausing once more to look at the card again and shrugging his shoulders, he continued, “When you die, there is a day of judgment. No one is free from sin. To make up for those sins, you walk the earth helping people whose potential destiny needs a little push. Once you help enough people, you get to retire. This basically means you get to go to heaven.”
“Potential destiny? What’s that?”
Anand sat down on the other end of the couch, facing Isaac. “Potential destiny is what an ideal world looks like and it can be achieved if everyone works together and achieves their individual potential destinies.”
“Like heaven on earth?”
“If you will.”
“So is Jesus your boss?”
Anand let out a deep, hearty laugh. “Jesus? No, Jesus is not my boss.”
“So what is he?”
“Don’t get caught up in all the ins and outs of modern religion, it won’t help you.”
“No, I really want to know, why isn’t Jesus your boss?” Isaac asked forcefully.
“Jesus is one of the four.”
“You mean one of the three, the trinity.”
“No, he is one of the four-Buddha, Moses, Jesus and Mohammed. The four spirits who caused a recreation of the potential destiny. When the world was created, G-d, for lack of a better word, created an idea for what a perfect world would be. Those who died were brought in to help move this along. But Buddha was a spirit who tried to show people how to achieve afterlife qualities in this life. He wanted people to be able to see their own personal destiny. Moses said he had the word of G-d, which he did, but it wasn’t supposed to be shared with people. Jesus and Mohammed did the same thing, both tried to show people how to achieve heaven on Earth. All of them had good intentions, but revealing the potential destiny is a big no-no. Each time that these things occurred, it sent history off into such a tangent that the ideal world that G-d had created had to be recreated. So He had to change to accommodate new realities. I hear it is quite a bit of work.”
“Why can’t the plan stay the same?”
“You love Christmas, love it more than any other holiday. What if Christmas doesn’t exist in heaven on earth? Would you accept it as heaven? Of course not. Now multiply your little problem by ten billion and you might begin to see the problems of our work.”
“So why don’t you help out governments to make peace with each other and stuff?”
“Why don’t you? It’s not an easy thing to do; dead or alive. Sometimes we help people avoid major catastrophes or just help them cross the street safely. It all adds up. But we only know what is going to happen two weeks in advance, so it’s hard for us too.”
Isaac nodded in understanding.
“So why do I have to make a wedding dress?”
“Apparently, your contribution to the potential destiny is you must create a wedding dress. This dress will allow others to realize their place in the world and they will achieve their purposes and so on. You could be the start of a chain reaction that will set the world on the path to peace and harmony. ”
“With a dress? I’m not a designer; I don’t even color coordinate my clothes.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have the talent inside you to create one magnificent item; something that will resound through history. Look at Harper Lee, she made one great piece of work and then vanished. A lot of one hit wonders you hear on the radio, they had the abilities to create one piece of music that resonated with people. Your one hit wonder just happens to be a wedding dress.”
“I don’t even have a girlfriend, who would wear it?”
“Maybe everyone. You never thought about designing a wedding dress, which is probably why I am here. But that doesn’t mean you can’t. Trust me, I’ve seen this thing before.”
Isaac rested his back against the arm of the couch, thinking about the photographs of his parents wedding and the dress his mother wore. It was very mundane, too off white, he thought to himself. Maybe a total recreation of wedding dresses as a whole, maybe that would resonate with people. Isaac began to get excited at the potential creativity inside him, but then a very disconcerting thought crossed his mind. “If you’re working for good, won’t there be other ghosts working to stop me?”
“This is your potential destiny if you work towards it, no one can take it away. And,” Anand leaned in towards Isaac, “There are no evil spirits or devil or anything like that.”
“Then what about those stories about haunted houses or ghosts scaring people?”
“Sometimes people don’t respond well to positive reinforcement. Sometimes people need to be scared to get their life on track.”
“Does it work?”
“Usually.”
“Unbelievable,” Isaac said exasperated, “And my contribution is to create a wedding dress? Wild.”
“Not just any wedding dress, the most beautiful and elegant dress ever created,” Anand said with a smile.
“So how long do I have to do this?”
“Let’s just say for the next two weeks, you’re safe. Anyways, there is another client I must go visit,” Anand said as he stood up.
“Don’t go! I have so many other questions. How are my grandparents?”
Anand paused. “Don’t ever worry about people who are dead. This work makes us happy. Happier than you can ever imagine,” he said sympathetically.
“Well thank you for saving my life and for staying and talking to me. I appreciate it.”
Anand was about to answer when he cocked his head to the side. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Um…” Isaac began.
“Shut up kid,” Anand replied holding up his hand. “It said wedding dress. Look right there!” Anand pointed to a place on the index card. “That’s a ‘P’ and not a ‘D’? You gotta be kidding me! And you’re telling me that doesn’t say wedding?” Anand ran his hand through his hair in exasperation.
“So I don’t have to make a wedding dress?” Isaac asked tentatively.
Anand waited a moment, listening to something that Isaac couldn’t hear. Then he turned towards Isaac, “No you don’t have to make a wedding dress. These yuppies that killed themselves after this financial mess want better press, better worldwide press.” The ghost said in disbelief as he began to walk towards the wall, half disappearing.
“Wait! Then what is my destiny?”
“Write a story!” The protector said angrily as he vanished into the wall. But a moment later with a hauntingly echoic voice, the ghost added, “And make us look good!”
Kilroy's Shadow by Joe Osgood 