The Black Parade
by Kyoko M.
BOOK ONE: THE BLACK PARADE
I have no home on earth and none below, not with the living, not with the breathless dead.
—Antigone, Sophocles
Chapter 1
The alarm clock went off like a duck being strangled with a telephone cord. I always tried and failed to remember to buy a new one. Groaning, I lurched onto my side and slapped at the device until it went silent. Sunlight streamed in, golden and annoying, through a gap in the dingy grey curtains of the window across from the bed. I threw the comforter over my head and lay there with my face pressed into the mattress, breathing in the faint smell of fabric softener and fried chicken. I really did need to wash these sheets.
After about a minute, I reluctantly climbed out from underneath the blanket and stumbled towards the closet to find my white button up shirt and short black skirt. My shift at the restaurant would start in half an hour. Colton would kick my ass if I was late again.
After wriggling into my work clothes, I wandered into the kitchen and began the nearly involuntary process of making coffee. Once it was brewing, I retreated to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I read the list of the names and addresses I’d taped to the vanity mirror: Linda, Ming-Na, and Ron. I only worked a five-hour shift today so I should have been able to take care of all three of them. After I finished brushing my teeth, I swept my hair up into something that vaguely resembled a bun and took a deep breath before staring into my reflection for a brief analysis.
To be frank, I looked like shit. The skin beneath my eyes was dark with circles since I hadn’t gotten a decent amount of sleep in about two years, my complexion that had once been a rich brown was now a sickly brown-paper-bag color, and my weight had dropped significantly from lack of decent meals. Lord knows how I managed to keep my job looking like this. Cue the makeup—some foundation to cover up the spots and black eyeliner to further divert attention from my unhealthy pallor. A dash of lip gloss and voila, I was once again presentable for public consumption.
My gaze fell across the list again. I sighed. “Ninety-six down, four to go.”
I snatched the Post-It off the mirror and grabbed my flats on the way to the kitchen where my coffee was ready. When I got to the kitchen, I shrieked in surprise.
My favorite forest-green coffee mug was already out and filled with coffee.
I glanced to my right and my left, letting my eyes sweep across the small room carefully. Nothing. Not a soul.
It took a moment for me to calm down enough to tiptoe around the apartment and check the closet, the bathroom, and even underneath my bed, for any signs of an intruder. Nothing had been moved and there were no signs of entry. I took a deep breath and walked back into the kitchen, sniffing the coffee for any signs of irregularity but I could smell nothing except for the enticing aroma.
I put enough sugar and cream in to turn the dark brown a rich caramel color and sipped away my exhaustion. Maybe I’d poured the coffee without thinking and forgot. It was early and my brain hadn’t kick-started yet. I grabbed a Nutra-Grain bar from the cabinet, my keys, and headed out the door, giving one last salute to the worn, leather-bound book sitting on top of my refrigerator. After all, I needed all the luck I could get today.
The first things I noticed about Linda were that she was small, blonde, and probably about seven years old. Her cheeks were still round and pink with baby fat that she hadn’t grown out of yet and her dress was bright orange with yellow flowers dotted down the length of it. The look would have been complete with a pair of white or black Mary Janes but since she didn’t have any feet, it was impossible. Linda was, after all, a ghost.
“What’s your name?”
I paused, having been lost in my thoughts after analyzing her appearance. “Jordan.”
She smiled, seeming interested. “Isn’t that a boy’s name?”
I resisted the urge to wince. She was just a kid, and a dead one at that, so she didn’t know any better. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?”
“Sure.”
“What’s the last thing you remember before you ended up here?” I asked the little spirit in my sweetest voice. Linda glanced up from the dandelion she had been attempting to pick up, surprised that her small hand phased right through it.
“Um, I don’t know. Mom, she told me to sit next to my brother on the log by the lake. My brother kept poking me so I got up. The water was really pretty that day,” she added with another bright smile.