{"id":2727,"date":"2024-11-02T15:03:10","date_gmt":"2024-11-02T22:03:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2727"},"modified":"2024-11-02T15:03:10","modified_gmt":"2024-11-02T22:03:10","slug":"afterlife","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2024\/11\/02\/afterlife\/","title":{"rendered":"Afterlife"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: Center your story around someone who\u2019s being haunted \u2014 by what or whom is up to you.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was there again, at the edge of my senses, always just out of sight. My brother, mister smarty-pants, said that it was nothing more than stress and apophenia with a dash of pareidolia thrown in for good measure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had to look it up after he\u2019d left \u2014 I couldn\u2019t let him think his big sister wasn\u2019t good with words. Why couldn\u2019t he just say I was seeing patterns that didn\u2019t exist and assigning meaning to them? That\u2019s what an English degree and a job as an assistant librarian gets you, I guess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s not that I\u2019m stupid, I just went a different direction. While my little brother was busy with college, I was throwing off gender norms, getting my hands dirty and working my way up from the bottom to where I am now. By the time I was certified as a Master Mechanic, I\u2019d moved up to the number two position in the garage. Rick, the owner, has said, more than once, that when he retires, I should take over and buy him out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He gave me a chance to run the whole show. For the first time in more years than I\u2019d known him, he was taking a real vacation. Rick and his wife were taking a month-long vacation in Cabo San Lucas. For the first few days, he\u2019d called every day, until his wife and I ganged up on him to focus on his vacation. I hadn\u2019t heard from him in over a week, but I still emailed the daily statements to him every evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whatever it was, it had started when Rick stopped calling, but I wasn\u2019t all that stressed. Running the garage felt natural. There was nothing I was doing that I hadn\u2019t done a thousand times before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was there late, replacing the brakes on the parts truck, and if I didn\u2019t know better, I\u2019d think someone else was there, too. It was like whoever or whatever it was flitted about just outside my field of view like a shy moth. Maybe that\u2019s what it was \u2014 a moth or something around one of the lights casting flickering shadows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a break from my work and walked around the entire garage, inspecting every light fixture. No moths in or around any of them. I even continued my search in the office, the warehouse, and the bathrooms. Aside from the dead bugs in the warehouse lights, nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went back to work on the truck, focused on my task rather than the feeling of eyes on the back of my neck. After I had the truck buttoned up and ready to go I carried the old pads to the recycle cart. To get there I had to pass Rick\u2019s tool chest. As I did, it felt hard to breathe. It felt as though something terrible had happened to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The clank of the pads in the recycle cart pulled my attention back to the garage. Rick was fine, I was just stressed. I was certain my little brother had it right. That didn\u2019t stop me from sending him a \u201cHope your vacation is going great\u201d text message, though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I waited too long for a reply, then decided I should head home. Like I often did on the drive home, I came up with a set of tasks for the next day. For sure, I\u2019d have Neil and Jose clean the light fixtures in the warehouse and run a broom through it. Hadn\u2019t been done in months, I was sure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I parked in front of my apartment, and had a moment, just as I shut off the engine, where it felt like there was someone in the passenger seat. There wasn\u2019t, of course, but it still set my heart to pounding. I locked the car, and my phone chimed with the text message sound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Excited to hear from Rick, I checked. There were no new texts, and no notifications. Maybe I just imagined it. That had to be it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I slept, I relived a conversation Rick and I had a few months prior. We\u2019d somehow gotten on the topic of what, if anything, comes after death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think anything happens,\u201d I said. \u201cJust like there was no you<\/em> before your birth, there\u2019s no you<\/em> after your death.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut what would it be like if there was<\/em> something after death?\u201d he asked. \u201cSome way to balance out the cosmic scales of the rich and successful bad people and the poor and struggling good people, for instance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike karma?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he said, \u201cor maybe that\u2019s what Purgatory is for.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf that\u2019s your take, what about ghosts? Are they the medium people?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. Maybe they\u2019re just trying to avoid Purgatory, or they\u2019re waiting for someone or something.\u201d He laughed. \u201cTell you what, if there\u2019s something after death, I\u2019ll let you know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that supposed to mean?\u201d I asked. \u201cYou\u2019re talking like you\u2019re dying. What is it? Cancer?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no,\u201d he said, \u201cnothing like that. I\u2019m old, and you\u2019re still young. Odds are, I\u2019ll die first. And if I do, then I\u2019ll let you know if there\u2019s an afterlife.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, you\u2019ll haunt me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rick rubbed his beard. \u201cDepends. Would you rather be haunted or hunted?\u201d He burst into a cackling laugh. \u201cWhat a difference an \u2018a\u2019 makes!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I groaned. \u201cYou and your dad jokes. At least if you\u2019re<\/em> haunting me, I\u2019ll know it\u2019s you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I woke and realized that I still hadn\u2019t heard from Rick in over a week. I checked my phone again and saw nothing new. I was seriously beginning to worry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened the garage early and checked the phone for messages. There was one from the Sheriff\u2019s department. Intrigued, I listened to the message.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is Sheriff\u2019s Deputy Maria Ruiz calling for Ana Navona. Please call me back at your earliest convenience at \u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wrote down the number, then called from my cell phone. The call was answered on the first ring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSheriff\u2019s Department, how can I direct your call?\u201d the young-sounding man on the phone asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDeputy Maria Ruiz, please,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were a couple clicks on the line. \u201cRuiz.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, this is Ana Navona. You asked me to call you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAna, I\u2019m so sorry. We just got word from the Red Cross that Richard and Judith Collins were in a boating accident eight days ago. Mexican authorities have given up the search for them and have declared them dead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at the window of the shop, the shock blurring the \u201cRicks Automotive\u201d sign long before the tears blurred everything. \u201cHe\u2019s\u2026he\u2019s dead?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah\u2026I gotta go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the time everyone came in, I\u2019d put up a temporarily closed sign and was sobbing in the middle of bay one in the garage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We had a quiet day, drinking, talking about Rick and Jude, and doing our best not to bawl. My phone rang several times throughout the day, with no number showing up, and nothing but static on the line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was sometime after noon that Neil called cabs for everyone to get home, and my phone rang again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen, whoever this is, today is not<\/em> a good day for pranks. Leave me the fuck alone!\u201d I yelled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I heard the static again and waited for any response when I heard his voice, sounding distant. It sounded like Rick, but I knew it couldn\u2019t be, until the voice got louder. \u201cAna Navona, we\u2019ve been trying to reach you about your karma\u2019s extended warranty.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

prompt: Center your story around someone who\u2019s being haunted \u2014 by what or whom is up to you. available at Reedsy It was there again, at the edge of my senses, always just out of …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[208],"tags":[210,209,220],"class_list":["post-2727","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-trunk-stories","tag-fiction","tag-short-story","tag-urban-fantasy"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pxT7i-HZ","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2727","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2727"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2727\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2728,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2727\/revisions\/2728"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2727"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2727"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2727"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}