Under a Violet Sky

Midnight found me bundled up under a pile of clothes I meant to fold. I don’t remember falling asleep but I must have dragged myself to bed sometime after my third glass of wine. Feeling out for the remote I emerge from my cocoon and am met with a heavy oppressive air that carries with it a rancid flavor. I brace myself to meet the bitter chill of my bedroom floor but to my surprise it was exceptionally warm. As I open my eyes they begin to blister and I can feel a protective layer of salty tears start to fill my eyes. My blood rapidly pulses through my veins and my heart feels like it’s attempting to jump out of its cage. There is smoke in my apartment which means something is burning. I sprint towards the front door and am confronted with the sharp sting of the bright fluorescent lights in the hall. I cower towards my apartment and from the corner of my eye I can make out a figure on my bed. My blood runs cold and my anxiety begins to slowly poke its way up my spine like someone is walking their fingers along it one vertebrate at a time. I can feel the presence of the figure staring at me, sparking goosebumps that prick me and as I turn my head to prove its existence it emerges from the bed in a steady leap.

I start to run, quickly down the stairs. It feels like I’m being chased but when I look back there is no one behind me. I collide face first with the glass entryway and bounce down to the ground landing harshly on my butt. I put my hand to my head cupping it in an embrace. My head is throbbing from the radiating pain that comes from running into a glass door, but also the pure adrenaline I exalted during my attempt to flee what I can only believe was a ghost. Looking up at the door to face my new foe I notice something strange. Through the reflection of the glass I see an empty hallway staring back at me.

Studying the reflection I decide to raise my right hand and wave hoping the movement will prove a type of optical illusion is at play here, but there is only the emptiness of the hall and a stillness that creeps up in the silence. I look down at my hands questioning my own existence and only then do I notice the stain covering the majority of my shirt, a muddy brown liquid has seeped in deep through the fabric of my tee. It’s just wine of course because why would it ever be blood, right? I tugged at my shirt and pulled it up towards my nose, with it came the raw iron and copper stench I imagine dried blood smelled of. Before I properly attempt to remember the events leading up to this moment, the building’s main fire alarm system starts to scream as the built in sprinklers release the cloudy and musty water that has been on reserve. The smoke. I had left my door open in my attempt to flee and the smoke must have finally triggered the alarm. My neighbors awoke and began to emerge out of their cozy comfortable homes and file out into the now bustling main stairwell working their way down. They would soon find me here sitting on the ground, soaking wet, and covered in blood.

I jumped up pulling the door open, swiftly walking down the block into an alley. I plan to stay far enough away that I could safely stay out of sight but close enough to see what was happening. Peering through the edge of the building I hid behind, I saw my neighbors begin to shuffle their way out of the building and onto the sidewalk. Children bundled up in their blankets with their teddies at their side, a mother holding onto her crying newborn, shielding its head from the night with her arms and her kisses. I never really spoke to my neighbors aside from the occasional smile and nod in the hallway, but observing them as I was I noticed them more. Average people attempting to live their lives in an apartment building that didn’t receive nearly as much attention as it needed. They huddle up near the street light in their coats and jackets checking in on one another.

It’s snowing out, the night sky a beautiful violet with just enough snow accumulated on the ground that it crunched when you stepped on it. Looking down at my feet I realize I’m barefoot but I can hardly feel the ice that rests under me. My toes should be bitten red from the frost. I was dripping wet when I ran out, my shirt is growing stiff as it begins to freeze, molding wrinkled curves into the hem line. My arms and neck were exposed to the bitter winter chill that was blowing around me yet I felt perfectly comfortable. Am I dead? A ghost roaming through this realm who hasn’t yet come to the realization that I have died, that perhaps the blood that stained my shirt was mine and these were the clothes I died in. It’s beginning to make sense; I did not see myself in the reflection in the glass, and it would explain why I have not suffered frostbite in the dead of winter. If I am dead then where is my body, and was the figure on my bed my killer?

In the distance I hear the sirens approaching and soon the blinding red lights ricochet against the snow covered street. The firemen jump from their truck and begin to run towards the building in bulky protective gear while others begin to hook a hose to the hydrant. One of them points up towards a window while he speaks to another and tells my neighbors to step back. They look up all at once and the same shocked expression begins to form on every face, paralyzing them in despair. I cannot see inside the building from this angle but based on the looks of grief and loss some of them carried, the fire was spreading. If I cannot feel the intensity of the snow, can I burn?

I turn into the alley and begin to gradually walk into its shadows. The alley leads to the back of my building, it’s where the smokers hang in the summer when they fill my bedroom with their toxic fumes. It’s also where they placed the fire escape. I find a couple of crates and stack two of them on top of an old trash bin and use another to climb up onto the bin itself. With one long stretch I can reach the ladder and pull myself up. While normally I would struggle to pull myself up and onto a ladder, something about the events of the evening told me I was more than capable. I climb up and stop on the fourth floor examining the inside of the apartment. It’s burning and there on the bed lies the body of my downstairs neighbor. He’s fenced in by smoke and flames. He was a hoarder and I guess that would have worked in his favor if he were conscious, the flames only now began to reach his bed frame. Had the smoke killed him long before the fire would? Maybe the same person who killed me got to him first.

I continued the climb until I reached my window. Standing at my doorway as if waiting for my arrival was the figure I saw on the bed. I got a better look this time, it was built like a man but it didn’t move like one. The way it stood up earlier was too swift for anything human. I jiggled my window and found that it popped open a little too easy for my liking. The figure moved closer into the light and revealed himself to me. He was pale, a bit muscular, bald, and most importantly he appeared human. His eyes were green but the more I looked the more they appeared to be yellow with a purple rim. His hands reached for mine and he pulled me into my apartment in one swoop.

He wasn’t particularly threatening up close and there’s something about the way that he looks at me that’s inviting. Who was he? I still did not know the answer to that or why he was in my apartment.

I look at him and ask, “Are you the angel of death?”

“No” he smirked “I’m Zachary”

He tilted his head intrigued by what I could possibly say next. “Am I dead?” His face developed a puzzled look and he didn’t respond. “Look, just tell me what happened and what to do next. I can’t feel the snow outside, I can’t see my reflection, there’s blood on my clothes. Was I killed? What happened to me?” I snapped with a little more sass than intended.

He began to chuckle before letting out an irritatingly loud laugh that made him lose his breath midway, the only sound that escaped was a squeal from the base of his throat. “Y-You think that you’re a ghost” he laughed, still gasping for air. He put his arms out in front of him and began to moan like a ghost in a mocking tone as he stepped towards me. “My love, you know that you are not actually here right” He put my head in his hands and gently kissed the center of my forehead. He leaned his forehead on mine and in a delicate whisper he said “Val, this is a memory. I hope you found what you were looking for? I think it may be time to wake up.”