Fake i.d. and eyeliner was all that was needed to get in. At least for Julian, conveniently seventeen going on twenty-two. He stood like a wallflower against a mural of intertwined bodies, neither male nor female, as he watched the throng of figures that moved like they were possessed by the throbbing bass. Through stray locks of bleached hair he surveyed the club. Long, thin fingers toyed with a chrome Zippo. Part of him contemplated buying a drink, but he worried he would get drunk too quick to find himself barebacked by some freak in leather. Not a way he wanted to end a night.
Julian’s feet had another idea as they led him to the bar before he knew he was even walking. At the opposite end of the long room, it was lit up by blacklights and black with chrome accents. Cautiously, the blond sat on one of the tall, matching bar stools, staring at the array of alcohol like a cat caught with his paws in a fish tank.
“Is there anything I can get you?” A tall, dark-skinned man with a shaved head stood in front of the teen.
His mind went blank. “I guess I’ll try one of the blue ones.” He answered, pointed to a small glowing blue bottle among a line of different drinks.
Julian was hesitant before taking his first sip of alcohol. It didn’t seem as bad as he anticipated, it tasted like really strong lemonade to him, and half was gone before he knew it. Suddenly, everything in the room, from the crowd on the dance floor to the unnaturally large bouncer seemed less intimidating. Yet he still jumped when another drink was set in front of him.
“It’s on that guy.” The bartender gestured to a man with short, dark brown hair on the other end of the bar. He winked at the teen, then set down an empty shot glass and disappeared into the crowd.
~~~~~
Last call seemed to come after only minutes. Julian was pleased; after two drinks he was only buzzed. He leaned against the brick wall of a neighboring building and lit up a cheap cigarette. His body still felt a rush through intoxication from dancing almost nonstop. A few drag queens winked and made flirtatious comments as they passed. He smiled, blushing at the forwardness.
“Do you need a ride?” The older man from the bar approached, lighting up a small cigar.
“I think I’m good.” Julian nervously took a drag, quickly exhaled. “I’m not going home just yet. But thanks for the offer.”
“Sure.” He eyed the blond. “Just started coming here? I’ve never seen you here before.”
“First time?”
“Ah. I’m Dan, by the way.” He extended a hand.
“Julian.” The teen took it, his blue eyes looking into Dan’s brown.
“I don’t live too far from here.” Dan gestured over his shoulder. “Do you want to come up for some coffee?”
~~~~~
In just two hours, Julian was straddling the twenty-something in his yellow efficiency. Dan lay on his back, hands tangled in the younger man’s hair. As they kissed, his hands went up the brunette’s bare muscled chest, lightly grazing over stubble from where he shaved. An involuntary moan vibrated through Julian as his mouth was invaded by Dan’s tongue. Clothes began to litter the room between his bed and small dinning table as they moved less than five feet. Clinging to a man he just met, Julian lost his virginity.
~~~~~
Freshly showered and in his red boxers, Julian stared out the window at the streets below. He crossed his arms, slightly chilled from the cold November wind gliding into the now hot apartment. To his left was the wall reserved for a tiny kitchen, only made from a few cupboards, a dainty sink and mini fridge. Against the wall on his right was the couch where they made out and table where they had coffee and conversation that held too many undertones to be ignored. He smiled as his thoughts wondered to the air mattress pressed up on the wall across from the bathroom door, next the entrance. He was surprised it hadn’t burst moments ago.
Julian sighed though his nose and set his hands on the weather-worn windowsill. Too lost in thought to hear the shower had stopped. Or the sounds of someone behind him. A floorboard creaked, the shadows from the yellowing lights flickered. Julian was completely oblivious to the man until it was too late and rough, gloved hands descended on him.
~~~~~
With a cry, Julian sat up, greeted by darkness. After his eyes began to adjust, he could see the only light was from the waning moon. Quickly he came to the realization he was alone in the middle of the woods. Slowly, he stood, crossed his thin arms. With a start he looked down. Somehow, he was fully dressed, and in the middle of nowhere. Overnight, it was like his life become a bad made-for-TV horror flick.
Breathing deeply, he searched his surroundings. There were many footprints stamped in the snow around him, and a few sets of tire tracks. Julian closed his eyes a moment, grateful to at least have something to follow. Then opened his eyes and let out a cry as his eyes caught a dark blotch of blood marring the snow. A few other crimson spots littered the area, but they looked a few days old, as the blotches were darkened to a maroon.
Trembling, he ran a hand through his locks. Then began to follow the tracks, wishing for Dan’s safety. A mile later, he found a road. He was on the outside of a wide curve, surrounded by woods. Julian pulled his army coat closer to his body and headed right.
After walking two miles, he squinted in the distance. A covered bridge could be made out, and he felt a glimmer of hope. At least he found some shelter. He quickened his pace to a jog.
Completely unaware he hadn’t left a single footprint behind.
~~~~~
“Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Julian jumped back as a Mac truck boomed by, seemingly ignorant to his presence.
He glared at the truck, then continued. As he walked, he glanced up at the stars, hoping he could get help. Julian cringed, thinking of how worried his parents must have been.
Finally, he made it the bridge. Just as it began to rain. He bolted into the bridge, grateful for its shelter. Then stopped, eyes wide. It was pouring, but why was he dry?
Julian held out a trembling hand, waiting to feel the familiar cold wetness. His other pale hand clamped over his mouth to muffle the scream. The teen watched, to his horror no nightmare could imitate, as one at a time, every raindrop passed through his outstretched hand.
Julian was dead.
~~~~~
Blinking, Julian looked around him. He was again at the apartment building. Between the century-old buildings, the last shards of sunset were disappearing. As he stared at the third-floor window that was Dan’s apartment, a part of him still was repeating this was all a bad dream. He closed his eyes and again, the tremors began.
A light was on, the window closed. He stood under it, unaware of where he stood, the snow covered a blood stain on the pavement like a dirty secret. A figure shot across the window and the teen’s eyes widened. Eyes still on the window, Julian hurried into the dingy white building, brushed past a couple. The older woman startled, announcing she just got a chill. In twos he vaulted up the stairs set wide in concrete. He passed several people on the way up, but no-one took notice of the blond kid in black eyeliner and camouflage coat.
Then he came to a halt in front of door 305.
“Do you really want to go in there?” Asked a voice from behind.
Julian held his breath, reached for the door. And passed through.
Again, he was in Dan’s efficiency, the yellow fake-marble walls still familiar to him. The bed was made with new sheets, the table pushed closer to the windows. No-one seemed to be home.
Julian pressed a hand to his forehead as the first flashback came.
Dan insisted on cleaning his clothes after having sex. Then again insisted the he use the shower first. He seemed very nervous, but Julian didn’t think much on it at the time. It was as if he was making sure no-one would know what just happened.
Julian approached one of the three windows as he concentrated on that night. Something seemed very, very off. The teen set his hands on the windowsill closest to the kitchen wall. His eyes widened again as one detail flashed in front of his face.
It was Dan.
His face reflected in top of the window. Rough hands pressed against Julian and shoved. Before he could gain any holding, he was already out the open window. The world sped by as he came into contact with the cold, unyielding asphalt. Blood oozed from the back of his skull as he stared up into the night sky. It began to snow. Each fat snowflake began to blur into tiny rainbows as Julian’s life leaked out of his broken body. Then the curtain fall of black enveloped him.
Julian fell to his knees, hands covering his face. He lay curled in a ball until the trembling ceased and he was too exhausted to sob.
“Now you know.” The same voice was only feet from him. Julian raised his head, looked over his shoulder through disheveled hair.
“Who are you?” Julian choked out the words, expecting much worse was waiting.
Then the man came into focus. From his clothing and hair, he looked like he stepped out from the 1950's. Or at least one of the locally themed Diners. A black leather jacket hung off his shoulders, and his dark brown hair was combed into the old “greaser” ‘do. He just stood there with his hands on his hips like an impatient mother.
“Now that you know, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Julian replied, setting a hand on the floor. He sat up, eyes still on the stranger. “Wait . . . how can you see me?” Blinked, his mind answering his own question. “You’re probably dead like me.”
“Yes, but not the same way.” He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear. “I was stabbed to death. It was a muggin’, but I thought I’d be tough and try to fight the guy off.” Then lit up. “I didn’t really think he had a knife in his pocket, but when I felt it in my kidney I knew it was a bad idea to call his bluff.” He took a drag. “So, I bled to death right in the hallway a floor above. Right outside my door. How’s that for life?”
“If you were mugged, how come it was outside of your apartment?”
The ghost sighed, shook his head. “Alright, my girlfriend stabbed me. She decided to get together with a member of a rival gang. My murder was her showing loyalty to the asshole. Bitch got away with it, too.” He took another drag, shaking ashes that never touched the floor. “That’s probably gonna to happen to you. Nobody says nothin’ about what goes on here. So far I’ve figure five people have been killed here, countin’ you and me.”
Julian finally rose to his feet. “You mean no-one says anything to the police?”
The man snorted. “No, they don’t care. No offense kid, but I don’t think they’re goin’ to go out of their way to report a fag getting killed by a guy who can’t deal with who he fucks.”
“What am I suppose to do? I mean, why are we here? Isn’t there somewhere we’re suppose to go?”
The stranger only shrugged. “Hell, if I knew, I wouldn’t be here. I’ve been stuck in this rat motel for . . . what year is it?”
“Two-thousand six.”
“Hmmm . . fifty years! Now I’m an urban legend and kids poke around upstairs at night to see if they can see me. Of course, nobody lives up there anymore, so there aren’t any neighbors to complain.” He opened his leather jacket. “This usually freaks them out.”
The entire front of his white T-shirt was stained red and seven gashes appeared like they were just made. Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. In a blink, the wounds disappeared. He looked up, smiling.
“It’s a neat trick to learn. You probably didn’t notice your wounds if you came to realize you’re dead in a hurry. Most ghosts lose them when they know what they are. So, from what I’ve seen, a lot of ones all bloodied up are either unaware or out to scare people.”
Julian opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a group of giggles and footfall from above.
“That would be my cue.” The cigarette already vanished from the stranger’s hand. “I have a little work to do.” Then jumped up into the ceiling.
A sound of a key ratting in its lock startled Julian. He stared at the door, wide-eyed as it opened. Dan entered nonchalantly, a paper bag in hand. Oblivious to his presence, he walked right past him, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. The spirit stared at the older man in disbelief, tears pulsing into his eyes. They flowed down his cheeks, never hitting the floor. Less than three feet away from the blond stood the man who killed him.
“Why?” Julian watched Dan as he began to put away his groceries. “Why did you do it?” He felt some of the grief began to melt away into a slow rage. It built up behind his chest, spreading through his body like a shot of cyanide. “Answer me! Why did you kill me?” Julian ran his hands through his hair, unaware that a tear made contact with the floor. “Was it because you fucked a boy? You couldn’t admit you’re queer, could you?”
He watched Dan sit at the table, a cup of trendy take-out coffee in hand. Julian’s hands shook as he stared at the man. Then a thought hit him like he stepped in front of a subway train. “You killed me because you knew I was gay.” Before he could stop himself, Julian brought both hands up. “You asshole!” Slammed them down on the table.
Dan jumped, spilling his coffee as the table tilted, then cracked. He looked up for a moment, and fell out of his chair. He was looking directly at Julian.
Then stood, cursing as he realized he was covered in overprice latte’. Grabbed the mostly empty cup and tossed it into the stained metal trash can. The older man proceeded to clean the mess as if he had not seen the spirit in his home. He shook his head as he opened his wardrobe door, muttering about hallucinations.
Julian’s hands balled into fists, his eyes narrowed while the watched his murderer clean the mess he just made. A fluorescent light above his head in the drop-down ceiling began to flicker. However, that didn’t seem to phase Dan as he changed clothes and surveyed the crack in his cheap pawn-shop-bought table. Then he blinked, anger turned to wonder.
“You could see me?” Julian walked closer to the sink, staring at the older man as he wrung out the damp shirt he was soaking. But Dan continued like the event never happened.
Then turned, walked into the bathroom, leaving Julian to contemplate over what just happened.
~~~~~
Two days passed, and the police didn’t even show up at his building for questioning. It was apparent what the upstairs spirit said was true. No-one cared about his murder. As for Dan, he was still living like that night never happened, but a few door slams and broken dishes were starting to wear on his sanity. Julian kept a constant watch on him when he was home, afraid he’d bring another boy to bed. The last thing he needed on top of death was spiritual company.
It didn’t take long for Julian to find out that he and his upstairs neighbor really weren’t the only entities in the building. One in the morning brought out an elderly woman from the bottom of the stairs. It was easy to guess how she went. One-fifteen brought the nightly repeat of her death. She oozed a spectral blood. Just as the greaser said, she didn’t know she had died. Four doors down the hall a fifteen-year-old girl slit her wrists over a boyfriend. She liked to give him funny looks when he dared show himself in the hall.
Julian stood in front of the window that served as his murder weapon, eyes locked on the alleyway below. It was closed, but to his relief the lights were out. It still unnerved him that he couldn’t see his own reflection.
He always imagined his death would be different than this. At least, part of him wondered if he would be able to see his own funeral. As the hours passed, he tried to think of his mother crying over his coffin, his friends at his grave. Murder never crossed his mind as a way he would go, and now he was haunting the apartment of his assailant in a trashy part of town.
Julian turned as the door opened, drunken laughter flooding the room. His fear had now transformed into reality; Dan brought another boy home.
Two men tumbled through the door, a boy with black hair holding a fifth of Jack Daniels fell to his knees, giggling. He looked up at Dan, his eyes glazed with inebriation. A baggy Rolling Stones T-shirt hung off model-thin shoulders and in his other hand was a crumpled black trench coat. The young man couldn’t have been any older than Julian. He reached up and grabbed the older man’s shirt and pulled him close for a kiss. Dan pulled back, shook a finger in a mock scolding gesture, then pressed a finger to his lips before closing the door.
With a heavy thud they fell onto the air mattress. They giggled, intoxicated on whiskey and lust. Dan’s fingers slid through the teen’s hair as took the cap off the Jack Daniel’s bottle, getting ready to take another swig. The older man smiled at him and stood, walked past Julian like he wasn’t even in the room.
Julian’s head turned, his eyes followed Dan as he opened a drawer in his kitchen area. Two things appeared in the man’s hands; a pair of handcuffs and a Polaroid camera.
“Do you feel like being naughty?” Dan followed the question with a giggle, shook the cuffs.
The teen lay on his side on the bed, clad only in his t-shirt and boxers. His hazel eyes had a glint of mischief as he giggled and nodded. Then sat up, licked his lips.
Julian’s eyes trailed back to the camera. He vaguely remembered it from the night he died. Behind Dan, the drawer lay open. His gaze stayed locked on it as he approached the kitchen counter. As he expected there were photos inside. Julian gasped at what they revealed.
The photos were of him.
Trembling fingers brushed over the photos as the blond studied the pictures. He remembered that Dan had indeed taken photos of him stripping before they had sex. Everything else in the room faded to obscurity as he stared at each picture of himself wearing fewer and fewer clothes. One photo in the back caught his attention, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on what it was. Julian cried out and fell back, landing hard on the floor. His eyes were wide and his breath labored. He wasn’t even aware that he had just screamed. The last photo was of his body on the pavement below the apartment, his eyes half-open.
Dan had taken a photo of him dying.
“What was that?”
Julian looked over to Dan’s bed. Somehow he had forgotten the black-haired teen. His eyes were wide open as he kneeled on the bed. Already his pants were in his hands. Quickly he stood, eyes shifting from Dan to the spot were Julian stood and back again.
“Josh.” Dan finally said his name, reached out a hand to the teen.
Josh jumped back, sat back down on the air mattress. Only to put his jeans back on again. Julian’s eyes shot from the black-haired boy to the doorway of the bathroom. The kid’s trench coat had been discarded to it and it lay crumpled in a heap.
Josh grabbed the coat, fully dressed again. “I’m not hanging around for this. This shit is too creepy!” He reached for the doorknob, clearly frightened to sobriety.
Dan grabbed hold of his skinny wrist. “You can’t leave.”
He tried to pull away, but failed. “What the fuck? Let go of me!”
The older man’s other hand went back, then the back of it collided with Josh’s face. He fell back onto the bed with a cry. Before he could move, Dan was on of him, hands around his neck. Tears from both fear and lack of oxygen filled the hazel orbs that shone fear. There was grace behind this, nothing romantic or plotted betrayal like Julian’s, this was pure hate.
Julian stood from where he crouched near the coat, feeling himself tremble again. His hands reached out toward Dan, feeling the air around him drop in temperature. They passed through him, causing pinprick sensations in Julian and a cry from the man. The blond felt an energy like to what he felt when he broke the table build in him again. In a fluid motion, his hands hit the mattress. Then in a loud bang, the air mattress deflated. Both feel forward, Dan released his hold of Josh.
Half-wheezing, the dark-haired teen fled.
Dan stood, looking about wildly from one corner of the room to the next. “You can’t do anything, you know! You’re just fucking dead!” He stumbled, falling back on the flattened bed. “I know you’re here, fag!”
Julian watched as he moved about the room, wide-eyed and frantic. Then, he stopped, as if someone hit a switch in his head. There, he half-sat, half-collapsed into the couch, eyes locked on the now deceased air mattress. He was able to smoke a cigarette before passing out, calm after his manic rave. As he snored, Julian closed the kitchen drawer.
~~~~~
The three o’clock beams of sun passed through Julian as he sat on the windowsill. Dan had gone out early that morning, probably to find another airbed. He stared down at the sidewalk, still covered in snow. Julian figured when it finally melted, his blood would be washed off the asphalt like the murder had never taken place. In the quiet room, his thoughts wandered. He never told his parents how he felt, nor his friends. Scared, he wanted to find out for himself who he was, but now that didn’t seem to matter. Curiosity led him to the club, and instead of killing a cat, it killed a 17-year-old boy.
Things didn’t end up even close to what the teen had imagined for his life. Nevermind how it would end. He never matched the statistics he had seen repetitively on the news. As an only child, he was never ignored by his parents, and he had many friends at the private school he attended. Yet, he knew he was different from his trust-fund friends. Since the age of nine, Julian knew he was gay.
For days he had been asking himself what led him to his killer’s home. From the time he got his fake i.d from a classmate, he knew. This no longer mattered, since, instead of a son coming out of the closet, his parents got a child going into the ground. Julian tried to imagine what the funeral must have been like. Would there have been an open-casket wake? After all, it was only the back of his head that was really damaged. Would his parents bury him in a suit? Or would they allow his body to be buried in his favorite band t-shirt and jeans they thought were always too tight, but the girls in the mall giggled over in their training-lust?
In an aggressive thud, the door to the hallway slammed shut. Dan was back, cheeks red from the cold, a couple plastic bags in hand. He set the larger one on the cracked kitchen table, the smaller one on the kitchen counter where he began to unpack the food he just bought. Like a movie camera, Julian watched him, his presence still unnoticed.
An explosion of sound startled him. Julian’s eyes caught another shade of blue; police lights. A loud crash of splintering wood filled the room, with the sound of the door slamming against the wall. Julian turned to the scene in the apartment.
Dan was being handcuffed as his rights were read. Before he could finish the clichéd line of innocence, a uniformed woman with bound brown hair pulled something out of her pocket.
It was the photos of him and Julian, with the date imprinted on the white Polaroid bottoms. Three of the photos had someone gotten into Josh’s trench coat pocket. The dark haired teen didn’t noticed them until he was a few blocks away. Fearful, he fled to the police. When questioned, he had told the cops he had no idea how he came across the photos, only that they were in his pocket when he left the efficiency.
Dan said nothing now, only glared at the officers. It didn’t seem to matter if he spoke or not, the blond knew what was reeling though the murderer’s mind.
Julian smiled, stood. “It was me.”
Dan’s eyes widened, Julian’s reflection shone brightly in them. Mouth open, his lower lip began to tremble, then he started to babble incoherently. In rough pulls, the two officers dragged the jabbering man out of his home. Again, the teen turned to the window, watched as Dan was shoved into the cruiser.
“So you really did it?” Standing in the empty kitchen was the greaser, useless smoke in hand. “What are you goin’ to do now?”
“I guess I’ll try to go to wherever it is we’re suppose to go.” He turned to the older spirit. “Maybe you should, too.”
He shrugged. “I could, but I’m havin’ too much fun. When I get bored, I will. Until then, save a spot for me.” He smiled.
Julian smiled back. “I will.” Then turned to the window, passed through it.
Again, he was falling. Instead of the cold concrete below, a swirling white light opened. Reached up toward him. Julian felt a warmth consume his body as he was surrounded by it. Then the mundane world was no longer |
Submission Name: The Murder of Innocence (revised)
