Undying Love Chapter 2+3
Paranormal Romance, Slow-Burn Spice
If you didn’t read Chapter 1 you can do so here
Authors note: This story has changed so much since I started writing it, and before its actually compiled as an e-book it’ll probably change so much more. It’s a story that was written really quickly—I wrote it within 5 days initially, and then realized a lot was missing and it should’ve been dual-POV. That’s a decision that I’m still weighing, but for now, that’s what it is.
Chapter 2
Rowan
All of the objects in my existence are nothing but different shades of black. Different hues of nothing but the same. I don’t know when I’d succumbed to the darkness or when it took me, all I know is that it’s been a long time.
At first, it felt like gliding into a belonging that I’d already existed within for years. I wished for everything in my life to fade to black, and it did. It felt empowering almost, to be a part of something I’d long felt that I should.
But as all people do, eventually we want more. I knew I was dead, and I didn’t wish to be alive again, but I did want to belong to an afterlife of some sort. Even if everyone on earth was wrong about it all, there had to be something other than an existence of nothing but pure darkness?
I think the worst part of it is that I’ve been dead, but conscious. My heart stopped beating, but something within me never did. There was always something under the surface that was still begging to be released.
For years, I spent my time trapped in the darkness, in this casket—which was my tomb for the rest of eternity.
At a certain time each year, I could actually hear people; I wasn’t sure if they were dead like me or not, but I’d assumed they were living. They seemed joyful, as they’d prance around above me, laughing joyously.
While I don’t remember anything from my time living, I know it wasn’t like that. This tomb was what I wanted, it was what I prayed for.
And now, I don’t know who I was praying to at all.
That time of year has come again, and this time, I don’t hear school-kids, instead I heard her.
And I think she’s here to peel me out of the tomb.
She reminds me of me when I was younger, and when my heart was still beating. Beat up and broken down in a world she feels she doesn’t belong in. I hear her tears falling to the ground, as she begs for help from anyone who will listen.
I am listening. I will get out of here and be there for you. I dug through the casket, through the core of the earth, and emerged, not as who I was, but who I am now. And now, I am being given a second chance at life. I am remembered.
I think that’s all that matters in the end.
Chapter 3
Lillia
I went back to the spot in the woods, as one final test of my power. I know I’m not supposed to call it a ‘test’ I’m just supposed to know that it’s already done. But I don’t know that, and I hope whoever is listening understands that. I can’t be sure of anything.
I gently brushed the leaves away from the hole, but everything was gone. At some point, someone had emptied the hole out leaving me with absolutely nothing.
I zipped the bag back open, the plastic crinkling—and irritating me further. I threw every last crystal that I had left, and I poured the entirety of the rose-hip oil.
I got down on my knees, I could feel the dirt against the hole in my leggings, but I couldn’t be bothered to care. “Please.” As I begged, I swear for a second, I watched the moon turn bright orange, as if it turned into a pumpkin carriage. I close my eyes and picture it bringing my desires, the man of my dreams riding on the back of it. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said before I covered up the hole, hiding its newly-replaced items, and left.
Tonight I felt the doubt take over my body and rip me apart from the inside out, as if it were possessing me. It stole the little bit of power I had. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
I fell asleep with a tear-stained pillow, dripping with all of my eyeliner and hope. It seems this year will be the same as every other year.
At 2 am, I was stirred awake by a knock at the front door.
Tap. Tap.
Very slow, but intentional knocks. I assumed it was the neighbor’s kids, which would annoy me, but I knew they were only out roaming the streets because their parents which would annoy me, but I knew they were only out roaming the streets because their parents didn’t care enough to keep track of where they were, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t relate to that one.
Slowly, I opened the door, peering out, but I saw nothing aside from darkness and the moon peering down on me, almost mocking me for my failure.
I guess they got scared off.
As I ascended the stairs, I heard the taps begin again, almost on beat with my steps as if we were in sync.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I ran down the stairs, his taps only getting more and more rapid. “Hello?” But I got no response.
I threw the door open, this time with intention to scare them away even further. “Is anyone there?” I glanced over at the bushes to see if the kids were hiding there, but if they were, they were doing a damn good job.
I began to shut the door again but as it creaked, I heard a loud plop, right on the porch. Not the plop of a small animal falling, no— the sound of a full-grown adult’s body.
The door swung open, but stopped right as it hit something—someone. Right in front of the door was a fully grown man, with pale skin, that was a bit too green to be considered olive-toned, but he was handsome albeit, odd-looking.
He coughed, and a gritty dirt fell to the floor, and he wasn’t just odd-looking, he was dying.
“I came for you,” he croaked out, before falling unconscious in front of me.
I brought him inside, pulling at his limbs as if my life depended on it, hoping I didn’t tear them straight off with my force.
I began to ask for the moon’s guidance again. “I feel like you’re praying a prank on me, when I cast my spells, my affirmations, I asked for a living partner. I’m sure I did. And you bring me a dying one? Please help me rescue him.”
I wasn’t sure how, but I somehow managed the strength to pull him into the bathroom. I thought maybe I should just take him to the hospital, but my intuition said not to. And I couldn’t ignore the moon’s guidance after I’d asked for it.
I placed him in the bathtub, ran water over him, letting all of the warm, soapy water wash away his worries. I wished I hadn’t used all of the rose hip oil earlier, because I am sure that would’ve done the trick to bring him back to health. Instead, I hope water will do the trick.
I sat over him, trying to recite every affirmation that I could think of, hoping that this man wouldn’t die in front of me today. I knew that one, I wouldn’t have another shot at possible love—I’d be too scared to ever try again. And two, I’d probably be blamed for this somehow.
Maybe, I should be. I don’t know.
The water splashed over him and I tried my best to allow the healing property of the water to take over and do its job. Finally, he threw his head back, coughing up water, gunk, and dirt, cleansing his body of everything.
“Oh,” I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “You’re okay.”
”Huh?” His eyebrows creased.
”What happened to you?” I asked, “Are you okay?”
”Yeah, I think so. Are you her? Are you Lillia?” I took a step back as soon as he said my name. Does he actually know who I am? Does he know that I’m the one that brought him here?
Does he—blame me for him almost dying?
”I am, yeah,” I said and I swallowed hard, bracing for impact, but his eyes only softened.
”You called for me?”
”I guess I did.” I do feel bad, I do. I didn’t expect it to happen like this. I expected the grand gestures you always see in movies, where this guy suddenly jolted awake, realizing they were missing out on the love-of-their-life, and came by with a juke box. Not coughing up dirt, possibly internally bleeding, and passing out on the doorstep.
”I made it. I climbed out for you. I received your stones.” He held them in the palm of his hand, only letting loose of his grip on them to show me briefly, and then tightened his grip immediately.
”You received them?” I was taken aback. They weren’t really a gift for him, they were more of an offering to the universe—or, to whoever.
”Yeah,” he let out a weak smile, which was all he could probably muster. “Above my grave.”
“Your—“ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. His grave? Like, where he was going to be buried? “Grave? No—I dug that hole myself.”
“Yeah. Where I was laid to rest.”
“The hole I dug up was above where you were—“ I gulped. “Buried?” That was horrifying and completely not what I wanted out of the spell. I wanted a real, living partner. I did not think that I had to specify that.
I did not want a..zombie? Or whatever he is.
”Yeah. You’re the only one who ever brought me anything. I knew I had to meet you. Thank you.” He seemed sincere but I couldn’t help but to feel angry. The anger bubbled up in me like a toxic chemical.
”Oh,” I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “Well, you’re welcome. I think it was a mistake, though. Maybe you should leave after your bath.”
”No. It wasn’t a mistake, I heard you.” I could hear his voice crack a bit, and I almost felt bad. But then, I remembered that he could eat my brains in my sleep.
”It was, I’m afraid. Do you remember where the door is?” I grabbed my stuff and quickly ran up the stairs, diving into my bedroom, and quickly turned the lock. I pressed my body against the cold, wooden door to try to hear if he’d followed me, but I couldn’t hear anything at all.
I know I probably shouldn’t have let that guy, or thing into my home, but I didn’t want to press my luck trying to guide him to the door. I didn’t want to learn what he’s like when he’s mad.
I created a zombie. I don’t know how or why, but I always fuck everything up. I clearly was not meant to have romance in my life, and this is my punishment.
I grabbed my phone and considered calling an ambulance for a moment. They’d come pick him up, get him checked out medically, and he wouldn’t be my problem anymore. Plus, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty if something happened to him. I would be wiping my hands clean of it all.
Of course, nothing is that simple for me. They would come back with questions. They would wonder if I did that to him, or worse—they’d find out he’s someone who has been dead for years and think I’ve been keeping him as a stowaway, hiding him away from his friends and family.
Or— they’d find out the truth, and see I’m capable of making zombies and I don’t know what they’d do to me then, but it couldn’t be good.
No. No ambulance, no police. He will leave on his own, and maybe find some other lost soul to spend time with, or he could go back home to his family.
As long as he was far, far away from here in the morning.
I set the bookcase in front of the locked door. I’ve watched enough horror to know that he could go crazy and try pushing himself through that door. I don’t know what kind of ultra-strength he has, if he has any, but that has been known to happen. I’m not taking any chances.