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    I'm Dead?
    I'm Dead?
    I'm Dead?
    Ebook241 pages3 hours

    I'm Dead?

    By Zimbell House Publishing, Feliciano Arrieta Jr., Bee Brown and

    ()

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    About this ebook

    You woke up dead. You're in an empty valley. Shortly, someone appears and tells you the valley is called the 'In-Between' place. What do you do?

    This is the writing prompt that spurred our thirteen contributors to spin their tales. 

    What do you think happens? Which tale will be your favorite?

    Featured Contributors:

    Feliciano Arrieta Jr.
    Bee Brown
    Cheryl Campbell
    E. W. Farnsworth
    Michael Grantham
    Morgan Jensen
    Nick Johnson
    Katie Krantz
    Amanda McHugh
    Sandra Ramos O'Briant
    Gary Power
    Travis Schuhardt
    and 
    Renée Shantel

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZimbell House Publishing
    Release dateJul 17, 2018
    ISBN9781947210578
    I'm Dead?
    Author

    Zimbell House Publishing

    Zimbell House Publishing is dedicated to promoting new writers. To enable us to do this, we create themed anthologies and send out a call for submissions. These calls are updated monthly, typically we have at least four months worth on our website at any given time. To see what we are working on next, please paste this link into your browser and save it to your bookmarks: http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/contest-submissions/ All submissions are vetted by our acquisitions team. By developing these anthologies, we can promote new writers to readers across the globe. We hope we've helped you find a new favorite to follow! Are you interested in helping a particular writer's career? Write a review and mention them by name. You can post reviews on our website, or through any retailer you purchased from.  Interested in becoming a published author? Check out our website for a look behind the scenes of what it takes to bring a manuscript to a published book. http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/publishing-services/process-behind-scenes/ We hope to hear from you soon.

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      Book preview

      I'm Dead? - Zimbell House Publishing

      This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. All characters appearing in this work are the product of the individual author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the written permission of the publisher.

      For permission requests, write to the publisher:

      Attention: Permissions Coordinator

      Zimbell House Publishing

      PO Box 1172

      Union Lake, Michigan 48387

      mail to: info@zimbellhousepublishing.com

      © 2018 Zimbell House Publishing

      Published in the United States by Zimbell House Publishing

      All Rights Reserved

      Trade Paper ISBN: 978-1-947210-55-4

      Kindle ISBN: 978-1-947210-56-1

      Digital ISBN: 978-1-947210-57-8

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908015

      First Edition: July 2018

      10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

      Zimbell House Publishing

      Union Lake

      Acknowledgments

      Zimbell House Publishing would like to thank all those that contributed to this anthology. We chose to showcase thirteen new voices that best represented our vision for this work.

      We would also like to thank our Zimbell House team for all their hard work and dedication to these projects.

      Windows

      Renée Shantel

      Audrey backed away from the light.

      There was something alien about it. Something wrong. It pulsed in and out of being, empty black to brilliant white, flying right at her until she was blinded and then promptly vanishing into nothing. The closer it got, the more her heart screamed that she needed to get away—and it moved fast. What is it? She was afraid to find out.

      It came at her again, and she almost stumbled over her own feet backing up further.

      That was when the window came into view, two panes wide and four high, the painted wood of its white frame chipped in several places. Audrey loved this sort of window. It was of the colonial style, like the ones on the house that they’d just bought together.

      The house who’d just bought together?

      The light couldn’t break through the glass. It was trapped in the world beyond, endlessly flying toward the panes but never able to pass. Audrey watched it a few more times, calmer now that she knew it couldn’t get to her and breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was safe. It couldn’t touch her.

      She was cold.

      Her breath fogged in front of her face. She watched the little bursts of white for a moment, transfixed by the way the light swallowed them whole, but the light was too much for her eyes to keep looking. Every time it filled the frame in front of her, it sent a stab of pain through her temples. She had to turn away.

      When she did, she saw that her world was made up of windows. They were everywhere that she looked—some like the ones with the light, others long and dark-wooded. A couple were stained glass, and another few were so high up she knew she’d never be able to reach them. All of them were dark and empty.

      One to her left was calling her name.

      It had a man’s voice, agonizing in its cries, cracking on the second syllable. Audrey moved toward the window uneasily. The man sounded so broken. What could have done that to him?

      She spied him through the glass, and her breath caught in her throat.

      He was broken. There was blood running down the side of his face and glass littered in his dark hair. It sparkled under the streetlight, strangely beautiful in amongst the tragedy. His arm was twisted at an odd angle, and he was paler than Audrey had ever seen him. Despite this, he was desperately struggling against two uniformed paramedics trying to hold him down.

      Wait. Paler than I’ve ever seen him?

      Audrey!

      Do I know him? She must have. With the way that he was screaming her name, they couldn’t possibly have been strangers. She pressed her face to the cold pane, wanting to get a better look at him—pallid and crumpled beneath the streetlight.

      But he was usually the opposite—all dark hair and dark eyes to go with muscular arms and a smile warmer than the sun. Her personal heater; her warmth in the night.

      Adam. Yes, that is his name.

      He came back to her in waves then, Adam, her fiancé. The man she’d met in a club at nineteen. The man who’d taught her it was okay not to know what she was doing with her life. The man she was set to marry in four weeks.

      She knocked on the glass. Adam! I’m here!

      Adam didn’t look over. He kept fighting the men hovering over him, struggling to get up—to get to her. He was still screaming her name, over and over, like a mantra, Audrey! Audrey! But no matter how much she knocked on the glass, no matter how much she screamed his name in return ... he wasn’t even heading in her direction. He was trying to reach some point to her right, back in the direction she had come from. But she was here.

      Why would he be trying to get over there? Even though she already knew what lay behind her, curiosity made her turn her head and look.

      The window with the light was gone.

      Instead, there was a car—Adam’s car—flipped on its head, its body a twisted shell. One of the headlights was still shining, lighting up the windows in its path. They looked almost magical with the way it reflected off their panes, bouncing off and sending fractured light scattering into the void. Audrey couldn’t dwell on that for too long, though. There was somebody trapped in the car!

      She hurried over with her heart in her throat. She needed to help them—she needed to call an ambulance! A quick pat-down of her pockets as she ran revealed no phone-shaped lump though, and she crouched down to get to the shattered window feeling less-than-confident in her mission. What if this person is beyond my help? What if they were—?

      Audrey braced herself and looked.

      She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been this. Familiar brown hair, blue eyes, wide and staring—and obviously dead.

      She was looking at her own lifeless body.

      She jerked back with a cry, and this time she did stumble and fall. She scrambled backward on her hands, desperate to get away from the car—from the body. She couldn’t think of it as herself. She wouldn’t. And maybe it wasn’t her after all. All that blood, it would be easy to make a mistake. Just because it looked like Adam’s car didn’t mean it had to be her.

      But in her heart, she knew. There was no mistaking what was right in front of her.

      I’m dead?

      Oh, God, I’m dead.

      I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead.

      Audrey’s back hit something solid, and she pressed herself against it. This couldn’t be happening to her. This couldn’t be happening.

      DO NOT STAND AT MY grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.

      Audrey turned toward the window at her back, again the source of Adam’s voice—softer than his previous cries, but full of just as much anguish. He was standing at the head of a chapel now, battered and bruised and with his arm in a sling, in front of dozens of pews filled to the brim with people Audrey knew. There was her sister, shoulders shaking as she sobbed; Audrey’s co-workers were huddled together on a single pew, a couple of them dabbing at their eyes with fresh tissues.

      A clean, white coffin sat front and center, with Audrey’s photograph on display beside it.

      Adam was wearing his suit—the one he’d bought specifically for their wedding. It killed Audrey to see him in it now. It had been meant for a happier occasion, but now he was wearing it at her funeral. Because who else could be in that coffin, with that photo beside it? For whom else would he wear that suit, or recite that poem—the one that she’d loved since she’d heard it recited at her grandfather’s burial?

      It was killing Adam to read it.

      He was trembling. He’d paused in his reading, and his shoulders were rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to hold himself together. In all the time they’d been together, Audrey had never seen him in such a state. Her heart ached as she looked on. She pressed a hand to the glass again, over where he was standing. The closest that she could get to touching him.

      It’s okay, she said, her own voice shaking. You’re okay, Adam. I’m okay.

      If she said it enough, maybe she would be able to convince even herself. The effect was almost immediate on Adam, he calmed his breathing and stopped shaking. He raised his head—and even though his eyes were red from crying, they were bright and strong.

      I am a thousand winds that blow, he went on, his voice steady. I am the diamond glints on snow.

      Audrey listened. Adam’s voice was a lullaby, calming her own racing heart and helping her to breathe. He’d always been there when she needed him—even now when she was stuck in her world of windows, he was there.

      Do not stand at my grave and cry, she recited with him. I am not there. I did not die.

      But I did, didn’t I? The two of them had been heading somewhere—Adam’s parents’ place, maybe—and something had happened to their car. When Audrey closed her eyes, she could remember it all again; the headlights that had come racing toward them, the sound of metal screeching as it scrapped on the asphalt. She’d hit her head. The thought sent physical pain flaring through her temples for a second like her head was being crushed, and then it was gone. But that was all she needed to know.

      When she opened her eyes, the window was dark, and the car was gone.

      Audrey breathed a sigh through her nose. All right, so I’m dead. What am I supposed to do now?

      She’d never given much thought to what came after, but nobody ever spoke of endless amounts of windows. Where were the pearly gates? Or the fire and brimstone? Should I be waking up in a new body? Haunting my house? Hell, anything would be better than this.

      But there was nothing for it now. This was what she’d been given, so she was just going to have to deal with it. She pushed herself back to her feet, brushed herself down out of habit, and stepped away from the frame.

      Off to her right, another window glowed with life.

      Audrey didn’t hesitate—she headed straight for it, already certain of what she would see on the other side. And there he was, standing in their tiny kitchen with a stale cup of coffee clasped in one hand. Adam had a habit of leaning against that marble counter and getting lost in thought. How long had he been standing there now?

      Maybe you should come home.

      Adam glanced over his shoulder as his mother came into view. She must have stayed the night because she was shuffling around in slippers and a dressing gown. She helped herself to a cup of coffee—half a sugar and a quarter of the cup filled with milk, Audrey remembered—before dropping heavily onto one of the dining chairs. She looked exhausted.

      The guest room’s still made up, she went on, and you know you can stay for as long as you need.

      Adam sighed. No, Mom. I’m fine here.

      Just for a while, she insisted. Until you’re back on your feet.

      I said I’m fine, Mom.

      Adam wasn’t fine. His shoulders were tense, and the hand gripping his mug had grown white-knuckled.

      If you squeeze that any harder, it’s going to break, Audrey said absently. Loosen up.

      Adam didn’t look over. Neither did his mother, and she was only a few feet away from where Audrey stood. So they can’t hear me. Not surprising, considering she was dead.

      Adam did loosen his grip on the ceramic, though.

      His mother wasn’t done with him. She drummed her fingers on the table as she asked, How are you going to manage around here with a broken arm? Do you want me to stay for a week or two?

      Adam set his mug down sharper than he probably intended. No, Mom. Just ... go home, will you? I need to be alone.

      No, he didn’t. How long had it been since the accident? Adam looked like he hadn’t bothered to shave in several days. Had he showered at all? There were still crusted bits of blood along his hairline. He’d obviously slept in his jeans ...

      His mother wouldn’t leave him. She wouldn’t.

      The woman sighed. Fine, Adam. But call me if you need anything.

      No. Audrey watched her once-future mother-in-law set her own mug down and get back on her feet. There was a moment where she hoped that maybe the woman was only bluffing, that she wasn’t really going to leave her only son when he was in such a state ... but she did.

      Audrey turned her gaze back to Adam, who had gone back to staring at the wall. His brow was furrowed; his thoughts were heavy. He turned his head, and his eyes rested on the knife-block beside the fridge.

      The window went dark.

      No! Audrey looked around frantically. She had to find him again. She had to make sure that he wasn’t about to do something stupid.

      She started walking swiftly, glancing at panes as she went. Most of them were dark, so only her wide-eyed reflection stared back at her. Some of them held shadows, but she couldn’t make anything out when she moved to get a closer look. Every now and then she tried to pry a window open, but none of them would budge.

      She was starting to think she was going to be wandering forever when she spied another window with a visible scene inside.

      There was Adam again—this time sitting in a dimly-lit bar, in the company of half a dozen empty bottles.

      But he was also with friends. Mason and Oliver sat on either side of him, smiles on their faces and laughter in their eyes. There was a smile on Adam’s face too, but it wasn’t as full as Audrey remembered. It didn’t light up the room anymore. It almost looked forced.

      One more round! Oliver signaled the bartender, his hands flailing in the air. Three more!

      No, no. Adam shook his head, pushing himself away from the bar. I think that’s enough for me. I should be heading home.

      To hell with that, Mason said. It’s been six months, man. You can have a night out and not feel guilty!

      Six months? Well, that explained the lack of sling and bruises on Adam. But was he still as pale as she thought he looked? It was hard to tell with the lighting in the room, but she thought he might be.

      One more round, Oliver said again, but this time he put a gentle hand on Adam’s shoulder. She wouldn’t want you to sit at home and sulk.

      Audrey had never been a fan of Oliver. He was all hands and lewd looks for any girl who would give him the time of day, and one too many times he’d tried to make a pass at her too. But he was right in this instance. Audrey didn’t want Adam to wallow.

      Stay out a while, she said. Be with your friends.

      Frowning, and with one hand still on the bar, Adam nodded. All right. One more round.

      Oliver gave a cheer as Mason slapped Adam on the back, and there was the hint of a proper smile on Adam’s lips as he shook his head at the pair. Audrey’s heart soared to see it. Maybe she’d worried for nothing. Adam looked like he was going to be okay after all.

      Something across the bar caught Adam’s attention, stealing the breath from his lungs. His lips parted into a tiny o, and his eyes widened momentarily. Audrey pressed her cheek to the glass, curious to see what Adam was looking at.

      The blonde smiled back at Adam, eyes sparkling.

      It was Audrey’s turn to stop breathing.

      This time when the glass went dark, she was prepared. She moved between the windows swiftly, searching for her next glimpse of Adam.

      She found him sitting in the booth they’d declared their own in Café de Belle. He was dressed in his favorite flannel jacket and dark jeans, and one foot was bouncing up and down nervously beneath the table. He smiled in the direction of the doorway as Audrey watched on, and she had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming.

      The blonde slipped onto the plush

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