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…. on the raising of the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self-accusatory.
On Christmas Eve and the seventh anniversary of Miriam Mead’s death, the usually sunny and warm streets of California were thick with fog and extremely muggy. A heavy sense of doom permeated every corner, even the street Santas hung their heads low when without meaning to, all their bells drooled out a haunting tune at once. Wilhemina Venable didn’t even notice the strange atmosphere on her way to Kineros, perhaps because her own aura of doom of gloom followed her everywhere; followed her always. She was well aware that when she arrived, the desk across from her would still be empty, though she was unwilling to let her bosses hire anyone to replace her long dead co-worker. Her cane clanking against the tile, alerted you; Wilhemina’s assistant, to her approach. You sat up a little straighter, flicked some dust off the edge of your desk, straightened your mousepad and took a deep breath, to properly prepare yourself for her arrival. But she barely glanced in your direction. “Good morning, Ms. Venable.” You said in your cheeriest voice and immediately winced at the resulting scowl on her face. Thankfully you remembered not to wish her a ‘Merry Christmas Eve,’ as she was liable to blow her top. Not that you would have appreciated the verbal reminder either, you would much rather be home with your son than here at work with a woman who, though she seemed to despise your very existence, did not see fit to fire you. But you needed this job, that’s what you kept telling yourself anyway, it didn’t pay well, certainly not enough to keep up with Spencer’s medical expenses, but it was the best you could find. She went to her desk and as the day went on, you tried to keep your head down and your hands over the keyboard. There was something you were working up the courage to do. Throughout the day you watched her berate everyone who came into her office and everyone who dared to call the company by her extension, but it didn’t shake your determination. For two weeks, you’d been working up the courage to ask her. You had this silly little hope, that a home cooked meal and a holiday spent with kind people, might soften her heart enough to grant you a much-needed raise. You remembered that morning and the phone call that almost caused you to be late, the stern voice of the social worker, Spencer playing with his stuffed animal dog on the floor and the three letters, open on the table, large red print staring back at you and you shuddered. You needed that raise. What started out as severe but controlled sarcasm and quips, escalated to your boss shouting every time the phone rang, never mind when she eventually answered. But when the time finally came, you marched right into her office and knocked on the edge of the doorframe. “What is it?” She spat. “I don’t know if you were going to the party tonight- ”The scoff she gave in response was encouraging. “-or have some other plans, but just in case you don’t, I wondered if you’d like to come by my apartment tonight or even tomorrow you could have dinner with Spencer and me, or even just a drink? It would be nice to…” You trailed off as you saw the expression on her face turn sour. “You know,” She began with an edge to her voice that created a lump in your throat, “I thought the one good thing about a mandated day off, is that I wouldn’t need to see your pitiable face. Now you're asking me to spend the day with you?” Your mouth hung open like an opera singer struggling with a high b flat as you tried to comprehend her response. She was always brisk with you, but never this rude. But then you shrugged and tried to keep your voice steady as you said, “I thought it might be nice.” She rolled her eyes and with a mocking tone said, “You thought it would be nice, spare me. Either you have some kind of pathetic crush on me or a silly idea that a meal with you and your rotten kid might…let me guess get me to ease up on you a bit? Or is this about money?” Her eyebrows snapped up to her hairline and then quickly settled down to their usual home.
You swallowed. She cut right through to the truth, and you realized right then that it would never happen. You wouldn’t get that raise and Spencer would soon be taken away. You heard the horror stories about foster parents, you knew there were some really good homes, but that there were just as many where he’d be in danger.

There was nothing more to say, she was eying you with a smirk, knowing she won, though even she didn’t realize the extent of your loss.

When you left that night, the weight of the world was on your shoulders, and it followed you onto the bus home and up the stairs to your apartment and it remained with you the entire night.

Wilhemina stayed in the office an hour late but left as soon as the drunk party goers started to arrive. She didn’t usually linger that long unless she had extra work, but she didn’t have any that evening. There was another reason she didn’t want to go home; one she couldn’t be honest about.

The reminder of Miriam’s death was as fresh as though it happened yesterday. It wasn’t as though she’d be able to pass over this day without remembering, the fact that it fell on a holiday didn’t help matters. As soon as that damn music started playing over speakers in every store and the decorations and holiday aisles took over everything, it was like she was right back to the weeks before it happened.
-
They were in a store together, she couldn’t remember why, probably sent by the idiots to get their annual party decorations. They always wanted the best and they didn’t seem to understand that Wilhemina and Miriam weren’t their errand girls. At least she had someone to grumble with.

“Would you look at this crap?” Miriam asked her, holding up a cutesy wooden snowman cut-out dressed in a snowsuit and wearing skis, “They’re asking fifteen dollars for this.”

Wilhemina rolled her eyes, “What about these streamers the boys want?” She asked, holding up a package of green and red tissue paper, “Ten dollars each package and they want enough for the whole lobby. I had to get eight packages.”

“Good thing we got the company card.” Miriam fished into her pocket and drew it out to flap it in the air. “What do you say we treat ourselves when we’re done here?” She asked and tilted her head to the side.

“Won’t they notice that?”

“Definitely not, their noses are so deep in blow, they’re barely aware of anything besides the girls they bring in, come on live a little,” She urged.

Wilhemina hardly ever smiled, but she cracked one then. A free dinner courtesy of her bosses? If anything was worth smiling about, it was that.

She couldn’t remember a time when she enjoyed herself so much, their temperaments matched well - though of course anyone’s temperament matched well after several glasses of the house red. The combination of the wine and the jokes about their bosses gave Wilhemina’s buzzed mind ideas about possibly, finally, having a real friend, someone she could actually get along with. They even went to the Christmas Eve party together, the first and last time Wilhemina would ever go because they got to stand in a corner together and mock the other party guests.

And then she went and croaked on her.

If Wilhemina Venable was a sour soul before, well now she was a straight shot of vinegar.
-
The air was surprisingly chilly as she walked to her car, the sound of her cane echoing under the hood of the parking garage was the only sound she could hear, which was strange given that Kineros was located near the highway, even on Christmas Eve there was never a break from the constant stream of traffic. Perhaps her hearing was going, she thought as she thumbed through her keyring to unlock the car.

The handle was like ice. She reflexively clenched her fist and tried again, carefully this time, but there was no need, it was fine. She must have imagined the way her fingertips stung, only she could still feel it. She kept telling herself it didn’t happen, that it wasn’t real, but even as she turned the key in the ignition, her hand trembled and even when she turned the knob to heat (which made no sense given the actual temperature outside,) her hands would not warm. She even tried rubbing them together after she shifted it into reverse. Nothing worked, it must be all in her mind. The rest of her was too warm so she turned the air conditioning back on. No matter how much she reminded herself that her hand couldn’t possibly be cold, (especially because both of them were covered all the time) it didn’t matter, it was still cold.

The drive was strange too, darker than she was used to. Although, she did leave later that evening, maybe that was why. Except that sunset wasn’t supposed to occur until seven thirty, but Wilhemina didn’t know that.

Her street was darker too. Many of the doors and windows had strings of Christmas lights over them, but they were all out, perhaps a power outage? She parked her car and carefully ascended the steps to her townhouse. Hers had no decorations, no personal touches, not even a welcome mat, because she didn’t care to welcome anyone into her private space.

But there was something off about her doorknob. There was a face on it that wasn’t there that morning. A face she was very familiar with, having sat across from it for years; Miriam Mead’s face. It was sort of like a wax mask over the metal. There was a gooey quality to its appearance, if she had the inclination to poke it, she expected that it would feel slimy and sticky like a puddy of some kind. The eyes were sad, and Miriam was never sad, Wilhemina only remembered the woman having two emotions, disgust and sinister glee. The mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear what it was saying so she leaned forward, placing all her weight on her cane to hear better.

In a raspy whisper, so much weaker than Miriam’s voice was known to be, she heard the doorknob repeat “I can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe,” the same as her last words when Miriam was out on the pavement bleeding out, ‘I can’t breathe Ms. Venable, I can’t- I can’t breathe,’ Wilhemina shuddered, her hand hovered over the knob, she willed herself to turn it.It’s just my imagination. I’ve been thinking about her all day, that’s all, that’s all. She shut her eyes and willed the terrifying image to be gone when she opened them. And when she opened them, she got her wish.

She shook her head, turned the knob and let herself in. Normally, she’d place her briefcase down before she flicked the light switch in the hall, but this time she didn’t wait. She was glad to have done it, because in the split second before she had, she almost thought she saw - but she didn’t, it was just a shadow, that’s all it was. No power outage though, that was strange.

There was a hallway, a small living room, kitchen and a bathroom, her bedroom was on the second floor. She really needed to move, it was difficult to get up those stairs every day and even worse trying to go down them without tripping. She eyed the staircase, it was short, just ten steps, ten steps too many. On the other side of it, leading to the kitchen there was her rectangular, long, dark purple rug, one of the only personal touches she allowed herself. She always fixed herself a drink before she went to bed and that night, she felt like she needed it more than any other, but she didn’t want to move. Her feet felt frozen at the foot of the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw someone sitting on her couch, but not a solid someone, someone made of smoke, wispy and ethereal. Its face swiveled on nothing and turned toward her, it might even have started to float toward her, just a head of disembodied vapor. She gulped and dared not look. I just need to go to sleep, there’s a lot on my mind, that’s all, that’s all.

Wilhemina squared her shoulders and placed her hand on the end of the wooden railing. Just ten steps, that’s all she needed to take, then she could close her eyes, carefully pad over to her bedroom, she could even use her cane to guide her way, slither into bed and be done with it. There’d be no ghostly figures in the morning. It was just the day, that’s all, just the day getting into her head making her see things that weren’t there.

She closed her eyes, lifted her cane up to feel for that first step, but before she took it, she toed off her heels. She wasn’t one of those shoes off in the house people. She took them off when she thought of it, either in the kitchen after that first sip of wine or if it was a particularly hard day scotch, or maybe on the couch in front of the TV with the History channel playing, or on the side of her bed along with her coat, skirt and button-up, but never at the foot of the stairs. There was a first for everything.

With her heels off, she took that step and stumbled. Fuck this, she thought and opened her eyes. Those ten steps went fine, as did opening her bedroom door, even changing into the old t-shirt and sweatpants she sometimes slept in, but as soon as she sat down on the bed, it all went to shit.

The window (which gave her a lovely view of the backs of other houses) flew open and a gust of wind whirled around the room. She heard that voice again, the rasping, gasping, unmistakable words of her dying co-worker, already dead, “I can’t breathe..I can’t..” and then it was as though water had been soaked at the end of tape recording, the word, ‘breathe’ was drawn out long, exaggerated, unnaturally deep and warped, by far the worst sound she ever heard.

Upon hearing that sound, Wilhemina shut her eyes tight and she shut them even tighter when she felt the mattress dip beside her.

“Ms. Venable..,” The voice was close, she should have felt a breath on her neck, “I can’t breathe, would you look at me? I said I can’t breathe,”

Wilhemina turned away from the voice toward her headboard instead and kept her eyes shut.

“You still can’t look at me. I saw you walk away as I was bleeding out, I told you I couldn’t breathe, and you left me there…

LOOK AT ME!” the voice roared and blew back Wilhemina’s red hair from her shoulders. When she opened her eyes on instinct, she immediately shut them again.

There was no mistaking those dark eyes or her sharp, but round face or the blood stains on her dark suit, and while the mouth was open and talking, there was a pool of red just sitting on her tongue, sloshing around. It reminded Wilhemina of that day, of the trickle dripping down the corner of Miriam’s lips as she spoke, of the terror in her eyes as she clutched at Wilhemina’s dress, getting blood on the hem - she threw the dress away an hour later.

The voice was steady the next time it spoke, “Look at me,” It said, firm, but just loud enough for her to hear, “You don’t want to know what I’ll do if you refuse me.” There was something about the way it was said which finally got Wilhemina’s attention.

She opened her eyes and stared at her headboard for about five seconds before she turned around. She looked first at the floor, then the bedspread and then finally to the specter sitting beside her. She blinked trying to rid herself of the vision before her, but it remained.

Yes, that was Miriam Mead alright, nearly exactly as Wilhemina last saw her. She would have expected death to get rid of all imperfections, skin blemishes, gaping wounds, blood pooling at the mouth, after all the mortician changed her out of the clothes she died in and closed her mouth at the very least. Shouldn’t Miriam be able to appear at her best now?

There were a great many things Wilhemina could have said, or might have said to the spirit, instead she said quite curtly as she would to an individual in her office without an appointment, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come about your soul.” The eerie voice said.

“You look like someone I know..” Wilhemina said and shook her head, “But she’s dead.”

The spirit said nothing to that remark; she simply raised an eyebrow at the suggestion that she was not recognized, “You’re telling yourself I’m not really here, that this is an impossibility.” She observed.

Ms. Venable nearly laughed, but she was too frightened to, “Ghosts aren’t real. It's the anniversary of my co-workers death so she’s on my mind that’s all.” She said.

“There’s no sense in talking to me then is there?”

She had her there, why was she talking to -whatever this was- if she didn’t believe they were actually there? Wilhemina tried to form a witty response, but her mind was blank.

“On some level you know I’m here,” The ghost continued, “I suppose I should continue speaking to that piece of you.”

“And ignore the rest?” Wilhemina asked.

“Precisely,” and the specter began, “ your soul is in danger.”

This time when the inclination arose in her to laugh, Wilhemina laughed, “My soul? I don’t even believe in souls, What? Is it in danger of going extinct?” She felt a little more of her power returning at being able to make the quip.

“You have a soul, all living beings have souls. Pay attention, I don't have a lot of time.”

Ms.Venable rolled her eyes, “Why would you be here to save my soul? You and I were on the same page, we believed the same things!”

“Do I look as though I’ve been enjoying my afterlife?” The specter asked, “You have no idea what it's been like for me.”

“Why don’t you tell me then.” Wilhemina suggested with no enthusiasm at all and crossed her ankles - a nervous gesture.

“Ms. Venable-”

“Call me Wilhemina, you’re dead, you've earned the right.” She said dryly.

“First, a question.”

“Why not?”

“Who was I?”

Wilhemina rolled her eyes, “I think you’re meant to resemble my colleague, Miriam Mead.”
“Yes, I am her spirit.” The Specter confirmed, “I wasted my life.”

“Wasted?”

“Don’t interrupt.”
“Fine.”

“I spent all my time on Earth hating everyone and everything around me. I spent all my time thinking about how I was going to come out ahead,” As Miriam’s spirit spoke, Wilhemina nodded along, none of that sounded like wasted time to her, “I never saw someone in need and felt compelled to help them. I never cared,”

“Why should you?”

“What did I just say?”

Wilhemina nodded and urged the ghost to continue.

“But that’s not what life is about. It’s not what it’s for."

“To me it is..” Wilhemina muttered under her breath.

“I heard that. - Haven’t you ever wondered why we’re all here? Why we aren’t perfect? Why bad things happen to good people?”

“Is this rhetorical or can I actually answer?”

The spirit ignored her, “We’re supposed to care about other people, about the place we inhabit, about the state we leave the world in, we’re meant to make it better than it was without us, but what did I do? What have you been doing? We’re heavy stones on an already sinking ship. We should have helped get the water out, after all we were in it too. I suspect you won’t like to hear this, but as you are now, the world would be better off without you.”

“What a horrible thing to say.”

The spirit shrugged, “Truth is the truth, but I come bearing good news.”

“What is it?”

“Tonight, you’ll be visited by three spirits.”

“You mean in addition to you?”

“That’s right. The first will appear at the stroke of one, the second at two and we’re supposed to say that the last comes in her own time, but the truth is, that woman is never late for anything. You can expect her promptly at three.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t they come all at once and get it over with?”
“No.” The spirit said, “Pay attention to what they show you. Listen to them.”

Wilhemina waved her hands a little to indicate that she might but gave no promises.

“This is important. Do you want to end up like me?”

“You never actually told me what it’s like.” Wilhemina reminded her.

Just then the window opened again, a gust of wind whipped through the room and Wilhemina could hear sobbing, terrible wails of those too late to affect change.

“I find a visual is more informative than words,” The specter said and directed the red head to peer out onto the space between the fences separating the yards. She saw a young spirit watching a dog chained up to a post, its ribs visible and hunger clear on its adorable sunken face. She saw the spirit of an old man shouting as a young woman a few blocks away trying to fight off an attacker, but the man couldn’t move from his spot and there were a dozen others all desperate to help and incapable of it.

“This is what it’s like. They are always there, even when you can’t see them.” Miriam said, “I must join them. Take the chance the spirits give you Wilhemina, escape the fate to which I’ve fallen.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

He was conscious of a thousand odors floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long forgotten!
The street outside quieted, but Wilhemina knew the spirits were still there, just invisible to her. She sat back down on the bed, her intention was to process what had occurred, but the whole thing was such an ordeal on her body that she immediately fell asleep.. When she woke up, she stared at the digital alarm clock on her nightstand. It was midnight, but she felt as though she slept for much longer and as she stared, she realized that the time wasn’t changing. Was there a power outage after all? She began counting the seconds, but even after counting to seventy-five (very slowly), it remained unchanged.She checked her phone and it also read 12:00am. That didn’t make any sense. Then she blinked and, her alarm clock and her phone both passed through the minutes in a matter of seconds, in fact less than thirty seconds passed when it was a quarter to. She blinked again and it was one. In an instant, her bedroom was filled with enough cigarette smoke to create a fog. Wilhemina began to cough. Apparently this first spirit didn’t care for manners. She took a deep breath, straightened out her skirt and waited. The smoke parted and it reminded Wilhemina of Moses parting the red sea, if Moses were a brunette in a brown and beige checker patterned dress with a little thin belt cinching it above her waist, and chain-smoking cigarettes. But Moses didn’t seem like a Lucky Strike kind of guy and based on the smell, she was certain that was this woman’s spirit’s brand. “Why do you have my face?” Was the first thing Wilhemina said to her. The spirit gave her the once over and said, “It’s my face. Well, our face.” She recognized the voice too, only this spirit spoke much sweeter than Wilhemina ever had cause to, “Our collective soul was broken and then scattered across dimensions. There are repeats and sometimes these repeats even occupy the same dimension. It’s complicated, but I am you. I am a facet of our shared force. We are simultaneously the same and completely different.”Wilhemina didn’t even try to comprehend what the spirit just told her, instead she asked another question, “Why would Miriam send you?”“Oh, Miriam didn’t send me. I was called. When it comes to time, relative as it is, I am the eldest and most capable and therefore represent the past of any one of these facets that needs it.” “Huh?”“I’m the ghost of Christmas past, tonight your Christmas past. You can call me Lana, Lana Winters.” “Oh, what does that mean then, Lana?” Wilhemina couldn’t help but say the woman’s name in a mocking tone. “It means you and I are going on a trip.”“Must we?” “We must. I just need to find the right..” The spirit trailed off as she dipped her fingers into the purse on her arm. At least a hundred small pieces of scrap paper flew out of it and floated around the room. Lana walked between them and one by one picked them out of the air to read. She dismissed ten of them before she snatched a piece that was yellowing at the edges and said, “There it is. Found it!” Then without warning she reached out and seized Wilhemina’s forearm. Immediately, they were somewhere else. Wilhemina felt dizzy and like she might be sick. She hunched over and began to heave. The spirit stood off to the side, leaning against a telephone pole still nursing the same cigarette. “If you’re going to retch, get it over with, would you? I’m on a schedule. My time is very valuable.” The spirit flashed Wilhemina her watch with the leather band for emphasis. Though there was bile rising up Wilhemina’s throat, she swallowed it down and willed her stomach to settle. She hated not being in control of her body’s responses. She hated it ever since she was a little girl and she – Wait a minute, where were they? As she took in their surroundings, Wilhemina shuddered and not just from the sudden chill on her skin, she knew this street. She knew the house they stood across from and the woman whose silhouette could be seen in the window; it was her mother’s, but it couldn’t be. Her mother had been dead for twenty years. She stood up, thankful to find that her cane somehow made the journey with them, she gripped it, not just for support, but for comfort as well and clenched the front of her lavender suit jacket, pulling it tighter. It was not nearly thick enough for the weather she found herself in. “Where are we?” She asked after she felt like she could speak without vomiting. “You know where we are, come on,” The spirit waved Wilhemina to follow her as she crossed the street. Lana passed through the cars driving down the street as though they weren’t even there. “Look where you’re going!” Wilhemina shouted as she tried to weave through the traffic. “Don’t have to doll and you don’t either” Lana called from the other side, “We’re not really here, no one can see, hear, or hurt us.” The spirit stopped just in front of the house and waited for her charge to join her. She had to wait a little longer than she would have liked because Wilhemina didn’t listen to her and wasted her time trying to avoid the cars. Finally, Wilhemina’s cane clicked onto the sidewalk next to her. She glanced up at the old Victorian surrounded by pristine, glittering, snow and sighed. “Fine, it’s the house where I grew up, but why are we here?” Lana took a breath she didn’t need to take, “Because you need to remember who you were and how you got to be this way. Truthfully, this kind of reminder would have done me a load of good, but I didn’t want to look back either.” She said and took another drag before flicking the cigarette onto the grass and then it disappeared. “What are you talking about?”“Never mind.” The spirit shook her head, “We should go in, I’m already three minutes behind schedule.” Lana looked at her watch again and then gestured to the door, “After you,” Wilhemina stared at the door for a moment unsure of what to do. She lifted her fist to knock, but Lana stopped her with a touch on her elbow and a shake of her head. This spirit was touchy.Lana modeled how to get through the door by simply passing through it. When Wilhemina didn’t follow her, she poked her head out so that it looked like a Halloween decoration on the door, “Time is money,” she said. “Aren’t you dead?” “Come through the door Wilhemina, it won't kill you.”So, Ms. Venable passed through the door. It felt a little bit like walking through a sprinkler on the mist setting and she wasn’t a sprinkler kind of gal. She tensed and rolled her shoulders before looking around. It was exactly as she tried not to remember it. It was full of expensive things that she was never allowed to touch or sit on, the living room and sitting room were never lived in or sat in, they were just for show. She was allowed to sit at the dining room table when the family ate together, but otherwise had lived her entire young life up in her bedroom. Even there she wasn’t safe from her mother’s hovering presence. “I hate it here.” Wilhemina grumbled. The spirit smiled almost fondly, “I know,” she said.Just then Wilhemina heard her mother’s voice from the second floor, “You’re worthless, you’ll never amount to anything, now sit there and be quiet,” Wilhemina almost sat down on instinct, “Wow..” Wilhemina chuckled, “it almost sounds like she’s talking to me.”Lana bit her lip, “Let’s see what’s going on.” The two of them ascended the stairs and Wilhemina gasped when her eyes fell upon her younger self. She suddenly remembered being that small, having to look up to everyone and how large the room looked from that perspective, and how it felt to have her mother tower over her as she sat crossed legged on the floor. She guessed this version of her was around six years old; she could tell by the length of the cane standing against the wall and the dress she was wearing. That dress had six white bows, one on the collar, one on each sleeve, and three at the waist; she stopped wearing that in the second grade. There was a final bow in her hair which always hurt. Wilhemina put her hand to the back of her head, she could feel it now, a phantom pain. Her mother always tugged and yanked at her strands of hair in the morning, stretching the sides of her face back until they wouldn’t budge anymore. She remembered the silent tears that slid down her cheeks during this daily ritual. It had been so long, Wilhemina almost forgot. “Mommy needs to work, if I hear one noise from you, well..” Her mother’s back was to the child, she was speaking into the window, but Wilhemina could see her reflection, the way she smirked at the end of her sentence, knowing she didn’t have to finish her threat. There was something sinister in her mother’s eyes, a darkness, in her father’s too, though she only remembered his shadow. He’d stand in doorways between the darkened hallway and the light of the moon. He was a tall man, but he was even taller in shadow, like a monster. His voice boomed too. She used to have nightmares about his voice, his words drowning her out, swallowing her completely, until she was just an irritant in his digestive tract. Her mother swept out of the room, her black skirt billowed up and six-year-old Wilhemina smiled at the way it moved. When she was alone, she’d twirl in her room and watch the pattern the shadow of her own skirt made in the light. The spirit and Wilhemina stood there for a moment, watching the girl. “What a sad little life she leads,” Lana remarked. “There are little joys.” Wilhemina assured her. “But it’s Christmas, why is your mother working? Why are there no decorations? No presents?” “Frivolousness, she called it.” The girl glanced around, peeked her head out of the door to see that her mother’s office was locked, and she beamed as she crept down the stairs. The spirit and Wilhemina followed. The little girl snuck out of the house and down to the mailbox, inside was a small cardboard package with her name on it. Skipping, she rushed back into the house, up the stairs, and once she got to her room, she silently shut the door and tore into the package. “Mother almost never checked the mail. It arrived a few days earlier, but she was breathing down my neck and I couldn’t go and check. My grandmother always sent me a package on Christmas, most years I never got it, but this year was special.” Wilhemina explained.They watched as the girl opened the package and laid the contents out onto her bed. There was a card, a five-dollar bill, a handful of sweets and a thin lavender journal with gilded edges, six-year-old Wilhemina’s only Christmas presents. Little Wilhemina picked up the journal and stroked the cover before bringing it to her chest to hug close to her. “I still have that I think..” Wilhemina thought.“Third drawer of your dresser.” Lana supplied. “How do you know that?”“I know everything.” Lana said, “Keep up we have more to see,” She gripped Wilhemina’s arm again. The room slowly rippled away and was replaced by the inside of a small coffee shop with an all-wood interior and very few customers. There was a small fake pine tree on the counter with half a dozen plastic bulbs. There were two tables of teenagers, one with four teenage girls and the other with just one: fifteen-year-old Wilhemina Venable. The spirit waited as the current Wilhemina got her bearings again and then directed her attention to her younger self who was carefully folding a handwritten letter and placing it delicately into an envelope.“Why weren’t you already sitting with them?” Lana asked. Wilhemina shrugged, “We weren’t really friends.” The young teen used her cane (which was now the same length as the one she currently used) to bring herself to a standing position, tucked the letter into her back pocket and approached the other table. The adult Wilhemina bit the inside of her cheek and tried to look away, but the spirit lifted her chin and forced her to watch the scene. Her teenage self, in a sensible subtle outfit of black trousers and a cream-colored blouse with a ruffled front, shook as she began to speak to the group. “Hi Lila…Merry Christmas,” Teenage Wilhemina said, “I have something for you.” A petite blond glanced away from the chatter of her friends towards the young Wilhemina. Her gaze was full of polite pity that Wilhemina wasn’t properly able to read yet, though the grown version saw through the glazed over eyes and slight uneasiness of the smile. Inwardly, she chastised herself for ever being so foolish. Lana nudged her as if able to read her thoughts and said, “You did the best you could with what you knew.” They both watched as the younger version of the red head handed over an envelope with the name ‘Lila’ drawn in beautiful script. Lila turned the envelope over in her hands, the attention of her friends caught by it as well and ripped it without regard for how much work was put into neatly closing it. She had the audacity to read the contents out loud. “Dear Lila, I have found myself captivated by you, your smile and golden hair enchant me...”Lila lost her place in the reading when her friends started to snicker. Wilhemina watched as her younger face boiled with blood, and tears unbidden sprung to her eyes. In an effort to leave quickly, young Wilhemina tripped over her cane and landed on the ice outside, while the teenagers inside howled with laughter. Minutes went by and no one helped the girl. Wilhemina even instinctively reached for her before Lana pulled her back reminding her that they were powerless and not really there. “That’s when I decided to never fall in love again.” She told the spirit. Lana rolled her eyes, “Really?” She asked, exasperated. “It was..traumatic..”“You were fifteen. High School is awful, but you’re a grown woman now. You mean to tell me you haven’t fallen in love since you were a teen? Please tell me you've at least gotten laid.”Wilhemina didn’t answer, she just stared down at her younger self, a single tear slipping down her cheek. This time the spirit dragged her by the hand, through a ripple in time to their final destination. They stood across the street from Kineros. It was around ten o’clock. The Christmas Eve party was still raging, they could hear the music and saw the pulsing red and green lights pouring out of the door when it was pushed open. Wilhemina watched herself in her dark purple party dress walk out of the building with Miriam Mead who wore a smart all black suit, towards where she and the spirit stood. They were both animated, still talking trash about their co-workers, enjoying coming up with meaner and meaner insults about them. Then Miriam crossed the sidewalk first and that’s when it happened,
BAM
Tires squealed as they skidded to a stop and then quickly sped off. It all happened so fast. At first Wilhemina rushed out into the road to see if anything could be done. There was so much blood, oozing everywhere. She leaned down to hear what Miriam had to say.“I can’t breathe..Ms. Venable, I can’t- I can’t breathe..” WIlhemina had known her friend was about to die, there was just too much blood. It was dark no one would know she was there if she just slipped away quietly, so that’s what she did. She knew she couldn’t handle watching someone die, especially someone she was beginning to care about. Someone else would find her, someone else would deal with what happened next, she would just walk away, take a few days off, ignore her phone when it rang about funeral arrangements, ignore everything until it was all over. “I can’t believe you just left her there. Well, I can believe it. I saw it with my own eyes.” The spirit scoffed, “Even I never let my heart get that cold and I let it get pretty cold.” Lana made Wilhemina stay until the body was taken away. She made her watch as someone who didn’t even know Miriam, drove down the street, got out of their car and stayed with her. She watched as they checked her pulse and tried to stop the bleeding- though it had been too late for more than fifteen minutes. She watched as this stranger did all the things she didn’t even consider doing. “When I think back to it..” Wilhemina began, “It feels like it was someone else who walked away, someone else who left her there.” “But it wasn’t, it was you.” Lana said and touched her arm, gently now as she pulled her through time and space, back to her bedroom. There was a whisper in the wind and then she was gone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The moment Scrooge’s hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by name, and bade him enter.
Wilhemina felt as though she had finally started to drift back off to sleep, when she heard an obnoxious giggle coming from downstairs and the sound of her TV switching on in the living room. She groaned and even attempted to curl back into her blankets, but the spirit had other ideas. “Dahhling! Please don’t keep me waiting!” The spirit called out in a British accent, at least she thought it was British, it also sounded vaguely Australian and fake, whatever it was. Slowly, and with another groan she rolled over, placed her feet on the floor and felt in the dark for her cane. She made her way down the stairs at a leisurely pace, almost reveling in making this spirit wait. But when she found the spirit, with her feet up on the end of her couch and a cigarette in her lips, filling up another room of her house with smoke, she was less than pleased. This ghost was a lot frillier than the last one, with a flower crown perched on her head (even with her head tilted back, it never fell), and a white dress with lace accents and no shoes. Of course. She still had Wilhemina’s face, or their face, which was completely unnerving. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Wilhemina asked, her voice thick with sleep. “Isn’t it obvious?” The spirit replied. “Not at all.” The spirit huffed, flipped the ends of her page-boy short blond hair and said, “I’m the ghost of Christmas present of course, your Christmas present.” Wilhemina folded her arms and said, “Naturally.” The spirit phased into a standing position in an instant and held out her hand with a Cheshire grin on her face, “Nice to meet you Wilhemina, I’m Audrey Tindall.” With all the enthusiasm of a dead fish, Wilhemina said, “Charmed, I’m sure,” and took her hand. Thankfully, Audrey released her hand quickly and glanced down at her iPhone.“Ghosts have phones? Who do you call? Is there a ghost network? Is it called Spirit-Wave?” Wilhemina snorted at her own joke, but Audrey ignored her questions. Instead, the spirit swiped through what looked to Wilhemina like video stills, before selecting one that she recognized as the inside of Kineros. Then with simply a feather light touch on Wilhemina’s arm, the room swirled around her like a cyclone, the walls warped, and she was smacked in the face with a couch cushion. And this time, Wilhemina did puke. When the space around them settled back into normality, Wilhemina saw that it was indeed her workplace. “That would have been embarrassing for you, if anyone were able to witness it...” The spirit said and then giggled and even wiggled her head a little bit when she realized and spoke the realization aloud, “Oh wait a minute, I saw it!” Wilhemina groaned as another bout of nausea overtook her. The spirit made a feeble attempt at patting her back, while Audrey eyes drifted heavenward, and her toe tapped impatiently. Though her abdomen continued to clench and contract, Wilhemina didn’t have anything left in her stomach to heave up. With a shaky hand on her cane, she stood up slowly and took a better look around. It was even more extravagant than the one year she went with Miriam. They’d made fun of how much effort the boys went into decorating and for a moment, Wilhemina wondered what Miriam would say about the state it was in this year. The bright shine on everything was enough to make her squint and every few feet there was another fully decorated Christmas tree, with its own-colored star on top, each star was a different color, each tree a different color theme. There were strippers dancing on little mini stages, all wearing the same green sexy elf costume and there was a little roped off corner, where Mutt and Jeff were sitting, with three leather sofas and a table in the middle. “My god, they’ve turned the office into a strip club!” Wilhemina exclaimed, utterly disgusted. “Not quite, strip clubs don’t usually have the drugs in plain sight.” Audrey corrected. Wilhemina saw that there did seem to be plenty of cocaine and acid tablets just lying around for anyone to grab, and they were grabbing them. She nodded and asked the spirit, “So why are we here? It’s not as though these…people,” Wilhemina said the word as though it meant sewer rat, “are good examples for me.” “No, “Audrey agreed, “But at least they have community with one another.”“Is that what I’m meant to be seeing?” Wilhemina asked, “Because all I see are addicts and perverts.” “Jesus often hung out with sinners.”“Is that who you represent?” With a faint smile the spirit shook her head, “Look closer,” The spirit urged, “Really observe them.” For a moment, Wilhemina walked around, and she saw exactly what she thought she’d see, debauchery. But then she found herself standing outside of the bathroom, where a young woman held another woman’s head in her lap. “It’s alright Tracy,” The young woman cooed as she stroked the other woman’s hair, “The trip shouldn’t last much longer,” Then she lifted her friend’s head up as she brought a glass of water to her lips, “Drink this, you’ll feel better.” The spirit suddenly appeared at Wilhemina’s side and said, “This isn’t exactly my crowd either, but wherever you find yourself, you can offer a shoulder to cry on, an empathetic ear, or just a glass of water if they need it. I regret that, in my own life I wasn’t as helpful or even as useful as I could have been.” “You’re saying I should have gone to this...this peep show?” Wilhemina asked with exasperation. The spirit took a breath she didn’t need to take, “Why is it that you always seem to miss the point?” She asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, “Wherever you find yourself, and whoever’s company you end up in, you have the opportunity to give, to serve, to be useful.” Wilhemina rolled her eyes. Tracy asked her friend with a slurred voice, “Did you know that giraffes and the pandas at the zoo are plotting a takeover of our government?” The friend, who silently directed Tracy to have another sip of water said, very seriously, “No I didn’t realize that, but we can do something about that tomorrow, tonight you just focus on getting hydrated and having a good night sleep. Here I’ll take you home,” Carefully, she helped Tracy to her feet and slung her arm over her shoulder so she could help her walk. Audrey and Wilhemina watched them as they walked down the hall. Wilhemina couldn’t help noticing how patient Tracy’s friend was with her, when she swerved or stopped to look at something like a plant and started petting it, she just waited for Tracy to lose interest and they continued onward. “You never had a friend like that.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. The spirit knew Wilhemina’s life completely, “I wonder though, if you could imagine what it will feel like for Tracy when she wakes up tomorrow and realizes that someone took care of her and made sure she got home safe. I wonder if you can imagine what it might be like to do something like that for someone else, without expecting anything in return.” Then the spirit cleared her throat, “I don’t know that I could have when I lived. Can you?” Wilhemina seriously considered the spirit’s question and came up empty. When she imagined someone being kind to her, she felt uneasy and didn’t think this was how Tracy likely felt, but she wasn’t sure someone like her could ever be helped or cared for, without there being a sinister reason behind it. And when she tried to imagine doing something for someone else without imagining that she might benefit from it in some way, well, she couldn’t help to see herself in that position, as a fool and a loser. But one tiny bright spot in her soul thought the words ‘it might be nice.’ It might be nice to feel around in the dark and grasp a hold of a warm and tender hand, and it might also be nice to be that warm and tender hand for someone in desperate need of it. But since the bright spot in her soul was so very tiny, Wilhemina was able to easily shove the thought away and glance at the spirit with disdain, when she said, “No I can’t.”The spirit nodded as it was the answer she was expecting, “It’s just as well. You and I aren’t finished yet,” she said and then took out her phone and began to swipe at video stills again, this time Wilhemina only recognized one thing in the image she eventually picked: you. Seeing it coming this time, Wilhemina shut her eyes tight and made sure she had a secure grip on her cane when the spirit wrapped an arm around her, and the party slipped away from them like a dream. When Wilhemina opened her eyes, she found herself in a small, dark, but well-kept apartment. First, she noticed your son, Spencer on the rug with his toy dog, humming quietly to himself, he was quite a cute little tyke, after all, he looked so much like his Momma. He couldn’t have been more than three years old. Next to him on the floor was a tiny plastic Christmas tree, it was the only thing in the room providing light and Wilhemina realized it was because it was battery operated. Either your electricity bill wasn’t paid, or you were trying to conserve. Audrey and Wilhemina found you sitting at the kitchen table with your hand on your forehead scratching your scalp, bills scattered over the table, the red lettering stark against the white paper: Last Notice!
Final Notice!
Last Warning!“Mommy! Can we put my stocking up?” Spencer asked as he ran over and leaped into your lap. Immediately, your expression switched, with a bright and dazzling smile (Wilhemina never saw you smile like that, it caught her off guard), you lifted him into your arms and stood up. Spencer noticed the tears that you weren’t able to wipe away, “Mommy, what’s wrong? Is it because we have nowhere to hang it? That’s okay, we can just put it on the table, Santa will still fill it won’t he?”“Of course, he will.” You promised.“So, you don’t have to cry Mommy, it’ll be okay.” Spencer said and put his tiny little hand on your cheek. You swallowed so more tears didn’t bubble up and then you took his sad little stocking out of the box and laid it gently on the kitchen table alongside the bills (that Spencer couldn’t read yet-thankfully) and the plate of store bought, clearance, sugar cookies and a glass of milk. Silently, Wilhemina and the spirit watched as you carried Spencer off to bed, tucked him in and read him The Polar Express, which he didn’t stay awake for. His sleeping face was so darling that Wilhemina found herself smiling at him despite herself. Audrey did something to speed up to the morning, but even still Wilhemina was able to see that you fell asleep next to Spencer’s bed on the floor. Your phone woke you up at 4am with a vibrating alarm. You shot up and rummaged through the apartment for all the items you bought to make Christmas magical for Spencer. It wasn’t much, but Wilhemina didn’t need the spirit to tell her that you spent the remainder of your paycheck on the decorations, food and gifts in order to make your son’s holiday the best that you could. There was a small Cornish hen that you placed in the oven, two bags of instant potatoes that you placed on the counter so you wouldn’t forget to make them, and three bags of frozen green beans were sitting in the freezer. You filled his little stocking with cheap chocolates, strawberry and orange candy canes, and a few little matchbox cars. You also hung up a little row of bright lights over the cabinets to add a little more brightness to the place, and before placing the three carefully wrapped presents under your little tree (all of them labeled with Spencer’s name), you pressed play on a Christmas playlist you kept on your phone. And then just as you were preparing yourself for when Spencer woke up (always at 5am on the dot even on weekends,) your phone rang. You stared at the number on your screen for a long time. and the green button that shook angrily, trying to get you to answer. Then with a shaking hand, you answered it. “Hello, yes, this is she. Uh huh, I see well, can’t you wait one more day as it’s Christmas and .. yes, thank you, one more day,” And after you hung up, you kept repeating to yourself, “One more day.” Now Wilhemina was not stupid, she was easily able to put the pieces together, but still some part of her refused to accept what she was seeing. “Well...” She said, “I don’t know why you brought me here.”Audrey threw a side eye her way that could melt the ice caps, “She needs a raise.”“Looks like she needs a hell of a lot more than that...”Wilhemina muttered under her breath. “Why haven’t you ...paid any attention? Made sure she had what she needed? You knew she had a kid; did you never ask about him?” The spirit asked. Wilhemina rolled her eyes, “Of course I didn’t. I don’t care about anyone but myself.”“You know that doesn’t just hurt other people, that it hurts you too, right? "Audrey asked, “It hurt me.”“Maybe I don’t really care about me either.” Audrey smiled, “That’s the ticket, there, look at that, you’re getting it! Maybe there is hope for you after all.” The spirit slapped Wilhemina on the back in a way that was meant to be encouraging, but instead it almost caused her to fall over. “But they’ll make it through, right? Maybe you could do something?” Wilhemina suggested. The spirit looked at her as though she grew another head, “What do you expect me to do?”“Don’t you have ghost magic or something?” “Ppffft-I’m not the one who refuses to give her the raise she needs, or better yet the one who could call up her many connections and find the woman a better job. I’m not the one with money. I’m not the one who could make all of this go away.” Wilhemina shrunk with shame, and the spirit raised her chest at the reaction. Then in a voice so small it barely sounded like it came from her, Wilhemina asked, “So I could? I could do something?” “You could have been doing a lot of somethings your entire life.” Audrey corrected. Then with a flick of her finger she chose another thumbnail, but Wilhemina didn’t see the picture she chose and with a tilt of her head the spirit invited her to take her outstretched hand, a choice this time. Back in her living room, exactly where she met her, there was another Wilhemina sitting on the couch, a bottle of whiskey on her coffee table. She looked exactly as she did now except, she was in her nightgown. “What’s this?” Wilhemina asked, gesturing to herself. “This is where you would have been if me and mine hadn’t come to deliver you.” “What kind of a phrase is that? So dramatic…are you an actress?” Audrey glowed when she answered, “Yes.” Wilhemina rolled her eyes, “That wasn’t a compliment, a good actress isn’t that obvious.”Audrey just laughed, she had enough fans and praise stored in her ego to brush away a critic, “This is where you’ve been the past few Christmas Eves isn’t it? In fact, you’d still be there in the morning, wouldn’t you? Don’t bother denying it, I can easily check.” The spirit said, waving her iPhone at her.With a sigh Wilhemina asked, “Your point?” “Well, I think it hardly needs saying, but if you insist. The point is you’ve spent your entire life feeling sorry for yourself, because of your back, because of your childhood and your broken heart. The point is that you are too weak to get off that couch and give a damn, and before you berate me, I don’t mean physically.” When she finished, the spirit folded her arms over her chest to indicate that the discussion was over. And then she glanced at her phone and said, “Crap, I’m late!” and was gone. She left Wilhemina there alone with the phantom of her would be self. She watched the woman unscrew the cap on the bottle of whiskey and even though there was a perfectly good glass beside it, she tipped the whole bottle into her mouth and gulped three times before placing it back onto the table. The rest of the house was dark, and Wilhemina wondered why she was still here with her.She watched herself, staring at that flashing screen like a zombie, it was creepy. But she found herself longing to just be staring at this other version the whole night, when the light bulb over her other self’s head shattered and everything was in darkness.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion!“What was that? Who are you?” It was her voice, but it didn’t come from her, or a spirit, it came from the version of her on the couch, who was now blinking at her in the darkness.
She can see me? “Uh…” Wilhemina faltered; she had no response. Who was she indeed?“She’s you,” It was her voice again but this time from someone else, someone she couldn’t see and with more power behind it than she’d ever possessed. "Given some perspective.” The voice continued and then the spirit possessing her voice stepped out of the darkness, long blond beach tresses flowed down the shoulders of her black dress. She stood tall and it wasn’t just her heels, but her status perhaps which radiated off of her. It made Wilhemina feel that even though they were the same height, this spirit was towering over her. She gulped as she looked up at the spirit, “Why can she see me?” She asked.The spirit quirked her lip and Wilhemina found her smile unsettling. It was like Wilhemina was a very small mouse and this spirit was a hungry cobra, “I thought it would be fun,” the spirit said. There was an urge in her to argue, but her fear was stronger, and she resisted, instead she asked, “Who are you?” “Oh, my my,” Began the spirit, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to introduce myself. I’m Cordelia Goode, the Supreme, though I suppose in this context I’d better just call myself the ghost of Christmas yet to come.” “Mine I assume, my future?”The spirit cocked her head to the side, “Yours and hers,” she said and gestured to the stunned woman, still sitting on the couch. “And of course, all those affected by your life, which given the state of it, is a lot more than I would have guessed.” “Excuse me?” The woman on the couch said, finding her voice only to be defensive. Wilhemina wanted to shout at the woman, but then she remembered, she’d only be yelling at herself and there wasn’t much point in that. “Come now, girls take my arms, let me show you the world that might be.” Cordelia said and extended her arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” said the Wilhemina on the couch, “I’m calling the police!” But just as she got up to do that, something pushed her back down. Wilhemina wasn’t certain, but she thought that maybe the spirit did it. She had flicked her wrist right at the moment when the other her fell back down on the couch. “I’d do what she says.” Wilhemina said, “She’s not human.” “Of course not, but even when I was, I wasn’t.” The spirit then shrugged and shook her arms again as a second invitation. Both Wilheminas then walked over (afraid of what would happen if they didn’t) while gripping their canes tightly and they slipped their arms through the spirit’s. This transition was quite a bit smoother than the rest. Wilhemina might even say, it had a professional quality to it. It was just like slipping into a warm bath, no discomfort whatsoever. They were in a conference room; it was large and all white. Mutt and Jeff were there, seated on one side of the table, while five other men in all black suits sat on the other. “And you did it all on your own,” said one of the men in a suit, “That’s impressive.”“Absolutely," agreed Mutt, “A lot of late nights at the office.”“Yes sir,” said Jeff. “Just the two of you!" Said another man, “Incredible.” “Well, we aren’t modest,” said Jeff, “We agree, we are pretty incredible.”For a moment Wilhemina didn’t understand why they were there, but when she glanced at her other self, it clicked. The other hers face was as red as her hair and with how her knuckles were turning white over the head of her cane, Wilhemina worried that her other self was going to break it. “Ho-How dare they!!” The other Wilhemina shouted, “I was their foundation! I MADE THEM!” The anger of her other self, stunned Wilhemina. Sure, she felt a slight twinge, hearing the boys say they did everything on their own, but she didn’t think it was worth that level of fuss. Wilhemina definitely considered herself to be overeating, which was strange, because this was supposed to be herself if she hadn’t met the spirits. Had that much really changed in such little time? The spirit turned to Wilhemina while the men behind them began to celebrate by bringing out various bottles of alcohol. “And what is your reaction?” She asked. “Those idiots never appreciated me.” Wilhemina said. The spirit nodded, “Sure, but why aren’t you as upset as your counterpart?” Wilhemina sighed, “I don’t know,” she admitted. The spirit nodded again though Wilhemina got the feeling she didn’t really accept that answer and that was more evident in the tone of her voice when she said, “Let’s see something else, shall we?” She didn’t wait for her charges to take her arms, instead she just snapped the fingers on each hand, and they were suddenly in the hall of a hospital, where horrible, fluorescent lights blinked overhead. There was a lot of shouting and machines beeping in different rooms. Then someone zipped by as though they wore shoes powered by lightning. That someone came to a stop in front of a closed door and started to pound their fists against it.That’s when Wilhemina realized who it was. You looked as though you hadn’t bathed in weeks, your clothes were all ratty and one of your shoes had a hole in the toe. “He’s my son! Let me in!” You shouted at the closed door. “Oh brother, that’s our little assistant, is it? Guess she blew all her money on drugs or booze, she probably deserves to have the kid taken away,” said the other Wilhemina.
Smack.
The back of Wilhemina’s hand hit the left cheek of her double. It was quite surreal to see herself cupping her red cheek, but Wilhemina brushed it off. “What was that for?” The other Wilhemina asked. “You shouldn’t speak when you have no idea what you are talking about.” Wilhemina said, simply. The spirit just watched with a cocked eyebrow and a neutral expression. Her double widened her eyes and said, “She’s no one, who cares?”“I do.” Wilhemina said with so much conviction she surprised herself. There was the hint of a smile on the spirit’s face then, but neither Wilhemina saw it. They were caught up in a war of the self. Her double stumbled back and blinked at Wilhemina for a moment before asking quite timidly, “Why?”Wilhemina didn’t know what to say. From behind her other self, she saw that you were now interacting with a woman who had slipped through the other side of the door. Wilhemina hated her immediately. It was the way this woman was regarding you, lifting her neck and peering down at you like you were a tiny insect, and she was debating whether to squish you or just flick you away. A small still voice reminded her that she’d taken that stance with you herself many times. That was different. But it wasn’t, and she knew it. She’d done it for the same reason, to instill fear in you, to intimidate you. So why did she suddenly want to hurl that woman to the floor? After all, they were the same. They kept you down, kept you small, delighted in holding power over you. Only you weren’t taking it this time. “You gave up your rights.” The woman was saying, her voice was sharp and slimy. You groaned, “Temporarily! You gave him the wrong dose, or forgot to give him his medication at all,” “How could you possibly know that?” The woman scoffed. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, “Oh my God! Was it on purpose?”The woman faltered and shook her head, “We just forgot. We were busy.” You were shaking, “Busy with what?” You kept peering behind her to the little window in the door. Wilhemina couldn’t see what you were seeing, but from the expression on your face she knew it wasn’t good. The woman started babbling, seeming far more interested in the bullshit she occupied herself with than your son. You ignored her and lunged for the doorknob, which gave way, (likely because in coming through, Spencer’s foster mother had unlocked it.) You charged in and Wilhemina, her double and the spirit followed. Just in time to watch him so tiny on that white mattress, shake and rattle before he went suddenly still and limp. You fell to your knees beside the bed and grasped his hands and fumbled for his pulse. The Doctor and Nurses standing around the bed all shook their heads. You cupped his face and turned it toward you, begged him to come back, to stay with you, your cheeks wet with tears. Wilhemina stepped closer. She wanted -She didn’t know what she wanted. She wanted to fall to her knees beside you, to snatch him back from the edge of death, to turn back the clock, rewind, change things.Wilhemina glanced back with blurry eyes, wanting to plead with the spirit but then she saw the indifference on her double’s face and how similar she and the foster mother were standing. They were the same. There was no one to bargain with, no one else to blame. Yes, the medical industry was rotten, the foster care system had many cracks to fill, and this particular foster parent was vile, but Wilhemina had the chance, many chances in fact to change the situation and did nothing. It didn’t matter how many people were involved in this chain of events, she could have broken it and she saw that now. “Is it too late?” She asked. With a set jaw, the spirit looked at her. Those were her eyes and yet they looked so much brighter, golden more than brown. But she didn’t say anything. “There has to be a chance, right?” Wilhemina asked, “Otherwise, why bother with any of this?” Her desperation was too much, and the spirit had to look away. The other Wilhemina winced at seeing her own face contorted in such a way. She was unable to imagine ever feeling the way this Wilhemina did. What would it take? What happened to her? Did this entity do something to her, or was this a natural progression? Was this how weak she really was underneath her carefully crafted facade?The doctor had finished telling you that there was nothing he could do, they had to take the body away, but you didn’t let them. You flung yourself over the bed and draped yourself over him. “You can’t take him away, I’m his mother, he needs to be with me!” You shouted, but they pried your hands away. You ran down the hallway after them as they wheeled the bed away. “This can’t be the future,” Wilhemina said, as she stood watching you disappear into the dark of the hallway, “There has to be some kind of mistake, I mean...” She turned to the spirit, expecting her to say it was all a cruel joke, just a test and not where the path was leading her. But Cordelia’s face was hard as stone when it turned to her. The other Wilhemina was still trying to puzzle everything out. She always thought you were attractive, but not to the level where she’d give this much of a shit about what happened in your personal life. After all, she didn’t take your son from you, she wasn’t the welfare queen who couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to those in her charge, she wasn’t the doctor who wasn’t able to save him. None of this was her fault, was it? She didn’t have time to think about it too hard before they were both ripped out of time and space and hurled to another destination. And hurled is the accurate term for the way the spirit shoved them both forward. They went flying and landed just outside a small funeral home. Wilhemina nodded to herself, this seemed about where this was going to go. The other her however was furious as ever. “What is the meaning of this? Who are you? Where the hell are we?” She demanded, as she rounded on the spirit. With a flick of Cordelia’s wrist Wilhemina’s double fell silent and Wilhemina was horrified to see it was because she no longer had a mouth. “Now, I won’t slice your tongue if you’ll be a good girl and hold it until the purpose of this visit is revealed. Then by all means, express yourself my dear.”Wilhemina’s double nodded solemnly, and her mouth was instantly restored. In silence, the two Wilheminas followed the spirit into the funeral home, passing through the glass doors as if they were mist. Wilhemina was not surprised to see a black urn alone on a shelf unclaimed and she was pretty sure she knew who was in it.But her counterpart was alarmed. She pleaded in almost the same way that Wilhemina did for your son, but for herself. “Tell me this is a joke.” She demanded of the spirit, “There’s no reason for us to be here, there’s no reason.” and she started pacing. Wilhemina watched her tiredly. So, she was dead in the future, likely the near future since there was nothing really shocking about the fact that she’d die one day. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care that much about it. Sure, she was a little young to die, but not as young as Spencer and she wasn’t as good as him either. The other Wilhemina didn’t see it that way. Wilhemina knew her double had to be aware of who was in the urn as well as she did and was just classically in denial, but it certainly was an interesting thing to witness in herself. Especially when they were thrown yet again to another location, this time Wilhemina’s bedroom, though it was stripped bare as if she never lived there at all. The other her kept saying things like “this can’t be my home. Yes, this is similar but there are tons of houses just like it.” and “Yes this looks like my street, but it’s not my street.” and “Yes there is that dent in the floor that looks like it was made from my cane, but plenty of people own canes.” Until finally they were brought to the main event itself. It was outside Kineros, at night, which Wilhemina thought had a sort of depressing poetry to it. They saw another them, walk out of the building, trip over a crack in the sidewalk and hit her head. Her neck cracked on impact and blood drained from the wound. “That’s not me. That’s not me. That’s not me.” The double repeated, turning away from their head, from their open eyes and that distant, lightless stare. The spirit glanced at Wilhemina and asked, “Why aren’t you upset?” Wilhemina shrugged, “Death is inevitable, mine isn’t much of a tragedy, is it?”Cordelia nodded, “On that we can agree.” “Not a tragedy? Not a tragedy? How can you say that?” The other hers voice rose in pitch as she became more desperate. “That’s enough of that.” The spirit said and Wilhemina’s double disintegrated into ash right before her eyes. Pieces of her wafted in the air like snow might have if they were in a colder climate. Wilhemina stared at the spot where her other self once stood and gulped before she snuck a glance at the spirit, wondering if Cordelia would zap her away next. “She was merely a tool for my purposes and her existence was unstable anyway. I have one more thing to show you.” Cordelia said. Wilhemina nodded and instinctively clenched the head of her cane. The spirit raised both of her arms with her hands palm up and in doing so, summoned a cloud of black smoke to swirl around them. Once her eyes adjusted to the change, Wilhemina noticed orbs of light in the smoke. When she stepped closer, she saw that each orb held a moving image, almost like snow globes. Though she saw herself in many of them, she didn’t recognize the scenes depicted. These very well could be the other facets of her soul as the first ghost, Lana mentioned, but this version had red hair and carried a cane, she wasn’t wearing purple though. Instead of asking any questions, Wilhemina simply arched a confused eyebrow in Cordelia’s direction. “Our soul has been divided many times and often a split occurs, and one personality is spread a little thin. If you’re thinking this is you, you’re right. This is a Wilhemina Venable, in a universe where the world ends prematurely. What do you suspect you would be capable of in a universe like that?” Cordelia asked. Wilhemina squinted as she tried to figure out what was happening in each orb. All she managed to figure out was that she seemed to be in charge of some kind of underground bunker. A familiar sense of pride started to crawl up the underside of her ribs, but she hurriedly squashed it back down. The spirit said something about what she’d be capable of, and it didn’t sound good whatever it was. Realizing the spirit expected an answer, she replied, “I don’t know.” Cordelia flicked the fingers of her right hand toward herself, drawing an orb to them. This particular orb flashed between Wilhemina injecting poison into an apple, the residents of the outpost eating apples and then Wilhelmina walking through their bodies lying on the floor. “I-I killed them?” Wilhemina asked, stunned, “Murder? I’m capable of murder?” She had never thought about the lengths she would go to serve herself. Wilhemina was never the type to imagine possible scenarios, unless they were of immediate possibilities, perhaps she should have. Perhaps she should have drawn a line in the sand, marked where she’d never cross. In failing to do that, had she damned herself? Had she damned her soul? “Technically, I’d say this qualified as a genocide as this was a large chunk of what remained of the human race.” Cordelia corrected. Wilhemina’s eyes nearly bulged out of her skull, she was speechless. For an instant she was on the floor of that room, and she saw herself in that black get up looming over her with disgust. In a flash she was back where she was before outside of Kineros with Cordelia in the smoke. She gasped when she returned to herself, “What was that?” The spirit hummed, “A change of perspective, isn’t that what this whole night has been about?” “Yes, yes I see your point.” Wilhemina said. “Well…” said the spirit, “Just so it sticks…” And before she could say a word of protest she was back to that floor. She could feel it under her, smooth and cold. But if she was there, wouldn’t she be dead? When she tried to move, the body she inhabited wouldn’t budge, she couldn’t move a muscle, and worst of all she couldn’t close her eyes. Just like her future self, her head was turned to the side so she could watch herself and the other Mead wade through the bodies surrounding her. She heard the clack of her own cane, could feel it reverberating through the floor, the dull hollow echo of it filling up the space between her ears. Time seemed to pass so slowly. She heard them talking, herself and the other Miriam, giggling to themselves about how easily they were eliminated, conspiring on their plans to kill another. She was still laying there when they left, wreathed by the carnage, the blood and bile, the stench and hopelessness. It felt like hours passed, maybe days, watching the slow decay, their skin turning green then red, of their bodies expanding like slow filling balloons. It felt like weeks, perhaps a month as she watched them turn to liquid and their skin slide over their bones. Perhaps even a year of her eyes open, staring at death, death she could have, would have been responsible for if thrown into such circumstances. Once their skeletons were all that remained, she had no way of knowing how much time had passed, before darkness crept along the edges of her vision and finally, finally, she was able to close her eyes.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in!

Wilhemina gasped.

After finally being able to close her eyes, she expected the sweet relief of death, not air filling her lungs, not warmth on her cheeks.

She could breathe. She could breathe, she was in her bed, her warm, comfortable bed and a ray of sunshine cast a heavenly beam of light onto her bedspread. Was she really back? After all that time?

She blinked, (because she could do that again) and tipped her head back to bask in the sunlight.

Wilhemina was alive and it was a new day. Her alarm clock read 7am. She reached for her phone and saw that it was the 25th, Christmas day, of the same year she left.

But months passed while she lay on that floor, how could it only have been a night?

It didn’t matter if it really happened, the spirits showed her the truth, the truth of who she was or rather who she had become. Even if it wasn't a dream, which it couldn't have been, it didn't matter.

She had work to do.

She picked up her phone and made a few calls. No one was very happy to hear from her on Christmas morning, but once she described the situation and explained how time sensitive it was - not to mention her demeanor from the moment they answered the phone was apologetic and sweet, instead of her usual demanding and impatient - they were more than willing to help.

While she waited for them to fax over the important documents she’d need you to sign, Wilhemina searched her cupboards for the perfect wine to bring over and fretted over how much time you’ve already spent terrified of what the future held. Were you even able to enjoy the holiday morning with your son, when you thought it would be the last you’d spend with him?

Wilhemina stood in front of the door to your apartment, hand shaking as she reached for your doorknob. What would she say, if you asked her how she knew where you lived? She couldn’t tell you that she spent years condensed into one evening being dragged around by angry Christmas Spirits (who looked just like her) and that she was shown your life as a way to make her see the error of her ways. Could she? Of course, that wasn’t the only thing to worry about either, more pressingly was the way she left things. How would you receive her when she so cruelly dressed you down for simply inviting her over, not twenty-four hours ago?

After she knocked, Wilhemina heard some shuffling on the other end of the door and the sound of your voice, perhaps you were asking Spencer to be quiet for a moment.

You opened the door and didn’t even look up, before you started speaking, “You said I could have one more-”

“Merry Christmas.” Wilhemina said, interrupting your rant that was clearly not meant for her.

Your head snapped up and your mouth hung open as you stared at her. “Oh no. Did I forget to file something?” You asked, she did have some papers under her arm, but you noticed something else and your brow furrowed. It was a bottle of wine in her hand, red and by the label a good vintage. Was there any chance she was there by mistake? Was there someone else in your building that she might know well enough to have plans with them? Doubtful.

Wilhemina bowed her head, raised and lowered her shoulders before meeting your eyes, “No.” She answered, “I ..uh seem to remember an invitation….” She lowered her eyes and they landed on her cane where her fingers were nervously tapping.

It took you a moment to process what she said. After your conversation the day before, you weren’t looking forward to seeing her again and you weren’t expecting to until the next work day.

When you didn’t speak she asked, “May I come in?”

You were so blindsided by her arrival that you just stepped aside without really thinking about it.

Spencer was engrossed in playing with his new Christmas toys, particularly a plastic drum that he kept banging away on and didn’t notice the visitor.

Wilhemina smiled when she saw him, “Quite the little percussionist, you’ve got here.” She said to you as you closed the door.

She sounded amused, but just in case you heard her wrong, you said rather defensively, “It’s a toy, kids like toys.”

“Maybe he’ll have a future with a big brass band.” She said with another smile. You never saw her smile so much in all the time you worked for her.

You turned to her with a glare in your eye, “Is that a dig at his future prospects?”

“No..” Her voice was meak, “Music is a fine career choice as long as he doesn’t fall into a drug habit or-”

“Why are you here?” You asked, interrupting her.

“Oh..uh you did invite me, didn’t you?”

“And you declined the invitation and insulted me and my son at the same time.”

“ I’d like to apologize for that. I was very rude-”

“You’re always rude.”

“Well..” she sighed, “I’d like to change that.”

“Would you? Really?” You asked. You were skeptical, but it was strange, that she seemed nervous, you never saw her nervous before.

“Yes and I was about to say,I know that you wanted a raise, but I found you another job instead..”

“You came all this way just to fire me?” You asked.

She slapped the stack of papers into your chest and let go, forcing you to take them, “Just read over the offer and hopefully sign it, quickly. I understand there is some urgency..isn’t there?” She asked you.

You blinked at her for a moment and glanced at the paperwork. Your eyes widened when you noticed the underlined figure listed under: starting salary. “Wait a minute..urgency..how do you know about that?” You asked.

“There is, isn't there? Look it over of course, but I’m guessing you’ll want it signed by tonight so they can fax over a confirmation. Do you have a fax? I didn’t bother to check.”

“There’s a fax machine in the lobby. What do you mean you didn’t bother to check? What is this? Why would you find me a better job?”

“You need money, yes? Even with a raise it wouldn’t be enough to lift you out of this dump, you’d keep your head above water sure, but you shouldn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck especially with a sick son and needing time off to take care of him-”

“Wait how do you know about-”

“You must’ve mentioned it.”

You shook your head,“I don’t believe I did, no.” you said.

“Do you want the job or not?” She asked, tilting her cane from side to side in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture.

You walked over to your small table and sat down with the paperwork. She placed the wine bottle on the table and stood over you for a moment, unsure of what to do. As you began to read, Spencer finally looked up from his plastic drum and noticed the strange lady in his home.

“Who’re you?” He asked her in his cute little voice that nearly had her melting at first utterance.

She smiled down at him and said, “My name is Wilhemina Venable.”

“You’re wearing purple.” He observed.

She nodded, “Yes I am, purple is my favorite color, do you have a favorite color?”

His smile was wide and silly, it took up his whole face when he answered, “Uh huh! I like yellow.”

“Yellow huh? That’s a very happy color.”

The sound of conversation distracted you from your reading, but when you finally tuned into it, you found that Wilhemina was crouched down near Spencer so she could talk to him face to face.

“Aren’t you hurting your back like that?” You asked.

Wilhemina shrugged and continued to ask Spencer about his new toys and various interests as though he were a fascinating conversationalist and not a little boy who had a small vocabulary.

“I signed it.” You said and that got her attention.

She tried to get up too fast and stumbled forward, her cane slipped, leaving her without support. Your hand clasped over her forearm just before her face would have smacked into the floor. Slowly and steadily you pulled her up, though your arm shook, you never faltered. You didn’t notice that your other hand landed on the dip in her hip until she swayed in your arms. Her face was so close to yours for just a moment. There was a slight blush across her nose, it made her seem softer somehow. As soon as she was upright again, you let go.

For some reason it was hard to meet her eyes when you handed her her cane.

She coughed into a closed fist, “Thank you,” she said. “You said you signed it?”

You nodded, “This isn’t a trick is it?” you asked.

She shook her head, “No.” She said, “I’ve been doing some thinking, took stock of my life and …I didn’t like what I found, so I thought I’d change things. I brought wine!”she said and gestured to the bottle on the table, “And I would have brought something for Spencer, but I thought it might be a little presumptuous, not to mention all the stores are closed.”

“Yesterday you were-”

“Mean? Cruel? Contemptuous?” She suggested.

“That sounds right.” You agreed.

“I understand you being suspicious of me,” she said, “But I really want to change. I want to be better. I thought getting you a better job would be the first step. It’s a real offer. I have many contacts, you know through the boys. You’re a wonderful assista- were a wonderful assistant, the best I’ve had actually. It wasn't hard to find someone who needed to fill a position and were able to pay you more of what you’re worth. Maybe it could even stop the-” She stopped herself, realizing that what she was about to say would reveal just how much she knew about your current predicament.

“Stop what?” You asked.

“Oh just uh..stop living..like this,” It was a struggle for her to figure out what to say, and that was definitely not the right thing.

“Hey, I know it’s not the best but I’ve done everything I can to give my son a good life and-”

She placed a gloved hand on your forearm that stopped your defense instantly, “I didn’t mean to insult you dear. All I meant was that you deserve better,” she said.

You were startled by her use of the pet name. Whenever she used a term like before it was always with disdain and disgust, but this time, there was something about the way she said it, you almost thought she meant it, meant that you were someone dear, maybe not to her, but in general.

“You really do want to change don’t you?” You asked.

“Yes, I do. I really really do,” she said.

She was true to her word and didn’t disappear from your life the second you were on your feet. She was a constant presence, there whenever you or Spencer needed her. And the job she found for you did stop social services from taking Spencer and eventually they didn’t even bother to check up on you anymore. You had insurance now and never had to worry about running out of medications or anyone forgetting to administer them, because you’d never forget. Spencer wasn’t cured, but consistent medical care meant that he was as healthy as he could be.

There was just one thing missing.

It was two years later, when she told you over a glass of wine about her night with the spirits. At first you thought she was talking about a very vivid dream, but after a while you came to accept that something profound happened to her that night, whether it was a bad trip from some underprocessed food or if she really did experience a visitation. But she made it clear over and over again that you were a key in saving her soul, that helping you was something she had to do.

But there were times, moments when you thought- But that was silly, she’d never, she couldn’t and you were..She was your friend and she was there for Spencer, that was enough.

Five years later:

Spencer was eight now and loved pirates, so before going to your Christmas party, Wilhemina decided to pick him up a book on pirates. But unlike the books he’d usually look at, with all the pictures and minimal words, she picked him up a nice non-fiction book about real life pirates from the past.

Your apartment was open so she let herself in and saw that the rest of your guests had arrived, not many, it was just a small dinner party. You were busy finishing up the meal and putting out plates of finger food, so she placed the present for you on a side table and set out to find Spencer.

He was in a corner on a bean bag chair with a remote control for a little car that he was maneuvering through the legs of the mingling guests. She sat on the edge of the couch next to him and hung the book from her hand, directly in his field of vision.

“It’s a book.” He said without much enthusiasm.

Wilhemina nodded, “About pirates.”

“It’s so thick.” He said.

“But it’s about real pirates,” She whispered as though it were a secret, “not make believe.”

His eyes grew wide, “There were real pirates?” He asked.

She grinned at him, “Oh yes, and so much more interesting than Captain Hook, I assure you.”

“Let me see! Let me see!” He put down the remote control and Wilhemina heard several sighs of relief from the other adults in the room who would no longer have to dodge a little car while conversing with one another.

She smiled and patted the seat next to her on the couch. He sat down and she handed him the book.

And that’s how you found her, next to your son and helping him when he found a word he didn’t know, got him to sound them out and patiently explained each definition to him.

After he finished a chapter, Spencer asked Wilhemina a question no one in the room was expecting: “Are you going to be my other mom?”

There was a hush around the room, no one spoke, no one even took a sip of wine or a bite of cheese. Your fists clenched and jaw tightened as you watched for her reaction.

Wilhemina blinked and swallowed before saying, “Why would you ask that?” It was clear to you that she wasn’t offended, just curious.

Spencer thought for a moment and said, “You’re around all the time, you bring me presents. None of Mom’s other friends bring me presents. You smile at her a lot like I’ve seen Danny’s mom smile at his dad.”

“No sweetheart,” You answered from the doorway, “Remember we’re just steps to her salvation.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asked.

You shrugged, “I have to check on the ham,” you said and rushed back to the kitchen.

She lifted Spencer off of her knee and went after you.

“What did you mean?” She asked from under the door frame.

You inhaled, sharply, but turned back to arranging the food, “That’s what you keep telling me isn’t it? That we’re an obligation, a way to make up for all the wrong you’ve done?” you asked.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.

You spun around,“Then how did you mean it?” you asked, hands braced on the counter.

“I just..” She glanced away for a second, “I just..I didn’t want you to think that I did this on my own. Without the spirits..”

“The spirits, the spirits,” you repeated having heard her talk about them many many times before, you were sick of hearing about them. They seemed to you to be an excuse not to move forward. You had a good thing together, would it really be too much to take it a step further?

She continued as though you hadn’t said anything, “Without the spirits, I would not have changed. You have to know that I couldn’t have done it on my own. I wouldn't have changed on my own. It took divine intervention, literally, to get me on the right track.”

You threw your hands up in the air, “So what?” you asked.

“So…a good person would have realized who they had become, a good person would have changed without help..”

“And?”

“And I’m not a good person..you shouldn’t..”

“I shouldn’t?”

“You shouldn’t get attached.”

You sighed and rubbed your forehead with the tips of your fingers, feeling a headache coming on,“If you didn’t want us to become attached to you, you shouldn’t have stuck around so long, you shouldn’t have been so consistent or-”

“I had to be sure you were alright.”

“Well we’re alright, now what?” You snapped, “Are you going to leave and never talk to us again or will you just call us from time to time, you know, just to make sure we’re still alright?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Of course, that’s not what I fucking want. Jesus Christ, Wilhemina. I want you to talk to me. I want you to admit that we mean more to you than as a means to an end. I want you to just be honest, please. ”

Her eyes softened, “Of course you’re not a means to an end. Spencer makes me feel useful and needed and you-you,” she suddenly got quiet, her voice barely a whisper when she said, “You’re everything to me.”

You stepped into her bubble and she stepped backwards until her back hit the wall behind.

“I can tell you’re afraid. But I don’t know what you’re afraid of.” You whispered into the miniscule space between you.

Her gaze fell to the floor and she answered, “I’m afraid of not being good enough.”

“For?”

“You.”

You raised your hand and caressed her cheek. Her resolve crumbled and she leaned into your touch.

“At this point,” you began, “I don’t think Spencer would accept anyone else in our lives,” you smiled and added, “I think I’m stuck with you.”

“Given time he could get used to someone else,” she whispered.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to get used to someone else,” you said and leaned forward to press your lips to hers, a light, soft kiss to ease her in,“and maybe I don’t care that you needed someone to guide you to the right path,” you whispered, just a breath apart and then kissed her again, your thumb curved under her jaw to pull her closer as you deepened it, and just as you had her leaning forward and her mouth was opening to you, you pulled away and said, “because they led you to me.”

You took a step back to see her eyes still closed, her lips still parted and you grinned.

After a moment, she opened her eyes, and on seeing you staring back at her, she blushed so deeply that the color nearly matched her hair.

From your living room, you heard a thunderous applause. You put your head in your hands, trying to hide, but you supposed it was only fair that both of you should be embarrassed.

“Should I change my answer to Spencer’s question,” She asked you, her bottom lip caught in her teeth, “To maybe?”

You shook your head, “No, you should change it to definitely.”

The End