{"id":7904,"date":"2018-04-27T12:41:59","date_gmt":"2018-04-27T18:41:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/?page_id=7904"},"modified":"2018-08-21T13:50:01","modified_gmt":"2018-08-21T19:50:01","slug":"a-little-death","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/?page_id=7904","title":{"rendered":"A Little Death"},"content":{"rendered":"

Elliott Zee
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 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jeanette\u2019s death was a cute little thing that wriggled in her lap like a newborn kitten. It was so small that it could fit in the palm of her hand, where it would gurgle and sputter its last breath in a perpetual exit without an ending. During the day, she kept it in her pocket where she whispered secrets to it and fed it cookies. At night, she cradled it in a shoebox and read it bedtime stories. It was the first friend she ever made.<\/p>\n

When she was five, Jeanette\u2019s little death got the sniffles, so she made it a pillow fort and sang songs until it felt better. It was hard for Jeanette to be sure what was ailing her death, but the girl\u2019s intuition told her it needed a hug and a big bowl of chicken soup. It accepted her affection and greedily devoured the meal.<\/p>\n

When Jeanette turned ten she began to study anatomy. She spent long hours in her local library — her lanky brown arms filled with books that were brimming with images of human viscera. She poured over microfiche of obituaries and coroner\u2019s reports. She marveled at the root cause of broken noses and shattered eye-sockets. She reveled in her newfound knowledge until one overly restrictive librarian redeposited her in the children\u2019s section. But before her curiosity had been stifled by the cruel reins of adult supervision, Jeanette had gained a working knowledge of the human corpse under the conditions of drowning, poison, strangulation, and decapitation. It took her another five weeks, and a stint on a borrowed laptop, before she determined that her little death was likely the result of a lethal combo of blunt force trauma and drowning. Jeanette was elated.<\/p>\n

Jeanette\u2019s teenage years were a time of fearlessness. While other girls were worried about acne and awkwardness, Jeanette practiced parkour. She flipped off the sides of buildings with a boldness that terrified her family. But Jeanette knew she had nothing to fear. She had carefully studied her little death. She knew every scar, every bruise, every tear. She understood with unparalleled intimacy every wound and violence that would be inflicted on her body. In turn, she understood all that could not hurt her. The boundaries of her brokenness, of her final release from her earthly existence were clearly defined.<\/p>\n

Yet, Jeanette could not shake her sense of loneliness — the invisible veil between her and the rest of the world. Her friends and partners were vulnerable to a fate she couldn\u2019t control. Their deaths were unknowable, anonymous strangers lurking in the shadows. She yearned to penetrate the isolation. Her little death, always a sympathetic friend, rummaged through discarded newspapers and left clippings for personal ads under Jeanette\u2019s pillow. While the miniature corpse was surprisingly adept at finding potential partners, it failed to find another soul who experienced the world like Jeanette.<\/p>\n

Inspired, and frustrated, the young woman decided to take matters into her own hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can see my own dead body. Can you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeanette discovered death-positive forums on Reddit at the age of thirty-three. She told her story, posted a few selfies of her and her death, and waited. She could hardly contain her excitement in finally finding a venue in which she could connect with kindred spirits. She saw the pictures of funerals and the tasteful ministrations of morticians and knew she\u2019d be at right at home.<\/p>\n

Then the comments began to roll in.<\/p>\n

\u201cInappropriate post. Reported.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you disrespecting our forum?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cQuit lying for attention!\u201d said a message from a young man in Colorado. Several followed up to suggest she was in need of medication. One middle-aged woman, thinking she was being helpful, diagnosed Jeanette as suicidal and reported her post to the authorities.<\/p>\n

Jeanette was heartbroken. She knew it was foolish to think that anyone would be able to see her little death, even when captured in photographic evidence. All she had done was make herself vulnerable to a sea of unsympathetic minds.<\/p>\n

And then there was \u201cSleepy,\u201d a rando who kept lurking around the forums, replying to her posts with pictures of himself in various states of consciousness. She considered reporting him to someone, but her little death would hiss and shake its head adamantly every time she tried. So instead, Jeanette hit the \u201cignore\u201d button and plopped face-first onto her bed in a gesture of despondence.<\/p>\n

Her death, unconcerned with the opinions of others, flooded the forum with bawdy memes and merrily gored itself on microwave waffles. Every few minutes it would tap her computer screen with a bloody finger, screening messages on her behalf and clicking its tongue until, at last, it found what it was seeking. The little death grinned with a shattered jaw and nudged Jeanette towards several unread replies to her post.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t get why people say they can\u2019t see your death in the photo. It\u2019s totally right next to you!\u201d The message was from an anonymous poster form Denmark. Jeanette allowed herself to emerge from the funk of her cynicism. Her death grinned at her, victorious as a second message appeared.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mom put me on meds as a kid because I told her a little boy who looked like me followed me around the house bleeding everywhere,\u201d said a man from Detroit, \u201cHe still does.\u201d<\/p>\n

Others followed. The forum was soon flooded with a parade of carnage. Many users continued to insist that the messages were fake, but those with supernatural companions perched on their shoulders could see her death, and she in turn could see theirs. The newly formed community was ecstatic. Their little deaths, inspired by the excitement, would peek over their shoulders, and dive onto keyboards, hunt-and-pecking cryptic code with their bloodstained appendages.<\/p>\n

And for the first time in her life, Jeanette felt at peace. Her community was her refuge — a perpetual sanity check that let her know she was not alone. Her little death, feeling generous, unblocked Sleepy, and began to upvote the myriad pictures of him slumbering in exotic locales. Jeanette was too distracted to notice.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should have a meet-up some time,\u201d the no-longer-lonely woman suggested one stormy afternoon while her death stood outside and caught raindrops in its fractured arms. \u201cLike a conference. It would be great to get my death out of the house and socialize it a little. It gets restless with just me around.\u201d<\/p>\n

The others, nudged on by their little deaths, agreed that if they had the money and time, they would get together someday. A few months later, Jeanette met two of her more enthusiastic peers at a Seattle hotel. The three of them went out to the bar while their little deaths stayed in the lobby for a night of poker and charades.<\/p>\n

\u201cBeing confronted with my death makes me less afraid,\u201d Jeanette confided. \u201cYou\u2019d think it would be horrible, but I guess they\u2019re right about knowledge being power . . . \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe, but I wish I had more knowledge to work with,\u201d Dave, a leather clad biker, said with a sigh. \u201cNo matter how many times I\u2019ve ordered my death to quit screwing with me, it never does. It just keeps dying of a heart attack, aging right along with me. It\u2019s a death sentence and I have no idea when the ax is gonna drop.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLeast you know it won\u2019t be from a motorcycle accident.\u201d Jeanette shrugged. Dave rolled his eyes, unimpressed.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne day I\u2019m gonna take a bullet,\u201d her friend Joshua declared as he tapped his forehead knowingly. \u201cRight there. But I\u2019ll be damned if I\u2019m gonna let it bother me.\u201d His crinkled Cajun face reminded Jeanette of sunburnt leather. \u201cJust means I need to work a little harder to make sure it\u2019s all worthwhile. And if it brings me a little extra friendship, I\u2019d say that was a good thing too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat may be so,\u201d Dave nodded. \u201cBut there\u2019s a risk to us coming together like this.\u201d He let the remnants of his beer whirl around the bottom of his glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Jeanette squinted her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow that they\u2019ve met each other, they know our weaknesses,\u201d Dave continued. \u201cWhat if our deaths want<\/em> us to die, but they\u2019re too little to do anything about it? What if they just needed help finishing their jobs?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow that\u2019s just stupid!\u201d Jeanette scoffed. \u201cWhy would our deaths try to kill us? I mean, they need us alive, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat if they become<\/em> us? What if that\u2019s their whole purpose? Maybe they can\u2019t really start living until we\u2019re gone?\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave\u2019s words hung heavy in the air as friends exchanged worried glances. After several more minutes of quiet suffering, Jeanette finally spoke. \u201cLook. My little friend\u2019s been with me my whole life. And you know what? That crazy little thing ain\u2019t plotting shit. If she were up to anything, I\u2019d know. She doesn\u2019t hide anything from me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure about that?\u201d asked a voice at the back of the bar. The four companions turned to see a bearded man with an afro sipping a drink in the corner. \u201cCause mine seems to always have a mind of its own.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan we help you?\u201d Jeanette slid down from her barstool. As she approached, the woman noticed that the stranger looked familiar. On the table in front of him was a small stack of printed-out photographs. She squinted, then snatched a photo of Dave on his motorcycle from the table and waved it in the air. The image showed his little death sprawled red-face in the sidecar. \u201cYou\u2019ve been stalking us. Jesus!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSeems so,\u201d Dave muttered narrowing his eyes. He turned towards the gentleman with an air of casual menace. \u201cBut why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not like that! I thought. I just — \u201d The stranger winced and took a deep gulp from his drink. \u201cDamnit! I should have known better than to come here! It never works.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat never works?\u201d Dave asked, leaning in towards the stranger.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaking friends,\u201d the man replied with a soft sigh. \u201cThe pictures were from Reddit. From your forum. I was invited here. By her friend.\u201d He motioned to Jeanette.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t invite him,\u201d Jeanette said with a frown.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but your death<\/em> did.\u201d He spoke the last words in a half-whisper. \u201cShe\u2019s been networking with the others.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPardon?\u201d Joshua raised a crooked eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter her last message, my little guy insisted that I drive out here.\u201d The stranger said with a small smile. \u201cHe helps me sometimes, whether I want it or not. Likes to send pictures. Usually gets me banned from forums.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait. Hold on. I know who you are.\u201d Jeanette took a breath and tried not to cringe remembering the relentless stream of spam she had received from the unwelcome stranger. \u201cBut if you were one of us, we\u2019d be able to tell — \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c — cause he\u2019d be in the pictures he sent.\u201d The man took a breath and raised a hand. \u201cBut he was. I\u2019ll show you.\u201d The stranger reached into the bag next to his chair. Inside was a small figure curled in a blanket. His face was calm. His eyes were closed. He wasn\u2019t breathing. The tiny man was dead. A death with no sign of injury. A death that looked like an ordinary person, asleep.<\/p>\n

\u201cSelfies!\u201d Jeanette gasped with understanding.<\/p>\n

The man nodded as he scooped his little death into his hand to show them. \u201cNo one ever believes me. Then again, I wasn\u2019t sure you were the real deal either. But Sleepy said I could trust ya\u2019ll.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYours talks<\/em> to you?\u201d Dave asked, his body relaxing.<\/p>\n

\u201cTypes,\u201d the man replied. \u201cAlso knows sign language.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019ll be damned.\u201d Joshua clapped his hands together with a smile. Dave grunted, slapped his new pal on the back and wandered back to the front of the bar for another drink.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Jeff, by the way.\u201d The new friend offered a shy smile, his eyes looking off in the distance. Jeanette extended her hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cJeanette,\u201d and this is \u201cJoshua and Dave. But I guess you already know that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff\u2019s little death began to stir. It stretched and made a few quick gestures in ASL. Jeanette extended a finger to shake the little death\u2019s miniature hand. \u201cWell hey there, little guy.\u201d She grinned. \u201cWhat happened to you?\u201d Jeff\u2019s death offered no reply. Instead it simply winked and curled back onto the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe does that,\u201d Jeff confided, wringing his umber hands. \u201cHe\u2019s friendly enough, but doesn\u2019t like answering questions.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt least he\u2019s helpful,\u201d Joshua replied with a smile. \u201cMine ain\u2019t bad, but would probably be more useful if it didn\u2019t get its head blown off every ten minutes.\u201d The others chuckled.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo where are your little deaths anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re in the lobby playing a round of charades near the coat-check.\u201d Jeanette replied. Sleepy opened an eye in curiosity at the conversation. \u201cHey, you can go out there if you want.\u201d The little death stretched its arms and tilted its head cautiously towards Jeff.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, I\u2019ll be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sleepy grinned from ear-to-ear. He gave a small salute and shimmied down the chair-leg and out into the lobby.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m turning in for the night,\u201d Joshua said. How \u2018bout you all?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTurn in?\u201d Dave scoffed, \u201cThis is the first time my death has left me alone for more than five minutes. I\u2019m gonna see what there is to do in this town. You two in?\u201d The pair exchanged a cautious glance at each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s okay,\u201d Jeanette replied. \u201cI think we\u2019re gonna stay behind and chat, right Jeff?\u201d<\/p>\n

The biker rolled his eyes. \u201cSuit yourselves.\u201d He paid his tab and wandered out of the bar, towards the street.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, I owe you an apology,\u201d Jeanette said softly once she and Jeff were alone. \u201cShe finished her drink and felt the warmth of it in her stomach. \u201cI shouldn\u2019t have ignored you when you reached out to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well,\u201d Jeff lowered his eyes and fiddled with his keychain. \u201cI had no idea that Sleepy was posting stuff on my behalf till last week.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff shrugged. \u201cI never use my Reddit account.\u201d He let out a chuckle. \u201cBut apparently Sleepy does. Must be bored out of his mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeanette smiled. \u201cYeah, mine does the same thing sometimes. She thinks she\u2019s being helpful, but I can\u2019t help but wonder if she wants a life outside of me, y\u2019know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly. We both exist, so we\u2019re two different people, right? Different people with different needs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDifferent needs,\u201d Jeanette repeated, rocking slightly in her chair. \u201cI\u2019m glad you\u2019re here, Jeff. Sorry I thought you were a weirdo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was perfectly reasonable to assume I was a weirdo.\u201d Jeff grinned.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I should have given you — him the benefit of the doubt.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff smiled as Jeanette leaned groggily in his direction. \u201cHey,\u201d he said after a few moments of silence, \u201cit\u2019s been great speaking with you, but I think I better get some sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeanette nodded. She paid her tab and stumbled over to a dusty ottoman in the corner of the lobby where the little deaths were still socializing. She steadied herself against the stonework of the lobby\u2019s fireplace and headed off to bed. That night, her mind conjured images of broken bodies dancing and moaning and flicking bent fingers against floating keyboards. She felt a strange welling in her chest — a bittersweet convergence of empathy and trepidation. Her dreams were filled with sensations of flight accompanied by the burning of lungs and a pressing, precious submersion.<\/p>\n

Jeanette woke at 11:42am the next morning in a cold sweat surrounded by a tangle of bedsheets. She wandered to the sink and shucked the plastic off a hotel cup, filling it four times in an attempt to fight her dehydration headache. Then she stripped off her clothes, stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash off the excesses of the evening before.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that was an interesting party, wasn\u2019t it, little buddy?\u201d Jeanette chuckled as she tilted her head towards where her little death perched in the mornings. \u201cBuddy?\u201d There was no gurgle, no sputter, no last hiss of air escaping through broken teeth. Jeanette\u2019s hand filled the empty space where her death should have been. \u201cYo! Where are you?\u201d Jeanette ended her shower.<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle death?\u201d She searched for her death amongst the blankets. She checked under the bed, and behind the dresser, but her companion was nowhere to be found. In desperation, she checked the mini-fridge. The phone began to ring. She massaged her temples and tried to steady her breathing as she scrambled across the room and lifted the receiver. \u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, is this Jeanette Richardson in room 302?\u201d asked the receptionist in the lobby.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, that\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have a man named Jeff Fischer down here. He says he\u2019s been trying to reach on your cell but it goes to voicemail. He claims he\u2019s a friend of yours?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, um. Sure. Did he say what he wanted?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d The woman on the other end of the phone let out a sigh. \u201cHe just says it\u2019s urgent that you come down and talk to him. But if you don\u2019t know him, I can tell him to quit hassling you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know him,\u201d Jeanette replied. She starred down at the eight missed calls on her cell phone. \u201cI\u2019ll be right down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeanette got dressed and walked the three flights of stairs to the lobby. As she opened the stairwell door, she saw Jeff pacing nervously in front of the elevators. He fidgeted and stared at his phone, as though he was expecting an urgent message. Jeanette noticed that his little death was missing as well.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, have you seen — \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes! And everything\u2019s fine, I think. Better now that you\u2019re here!\u201d Jeff shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, barely able to contain the nervous energy coursing through his body. \u201cBut something happened. Last night. The note. Did she share one with you?\u201d His tone fluctuated between anxious and manic.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. What are you talking about?\u201d Jeanette stared at the man in confusion.<\/p>\n

\u201cOur deaths. They\u2019ve been corresponding. Like I told you last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight. So?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeff\u2019s eyes grew huge as though he could barely contain his newfound revelation. \u201cSo, Sleepy and your little death have a chat history. My little guy printed out the transcript. He left it rolled up in my shoe.\u201d He produced the bundle of papers that had been folded under his arm. \u201cApparently, they\u2019ve been dating.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPardon?\u201d Jeanette shook her head in confusion.<\/p>\n

\u201cOnline. The messages they\u2019ve been exchanging. They\u2019re well, kinda\u2026\u201d Jeff blushed and handed her papers.<\/p>\n

Jeanette\u2019s eyes darted over words like, \u201ceternal,\u201d <\/em>and \u201dthirsty,\u201d<\/em> and \u201ccaress.\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHot damn!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyhow,\u201d Jeff coughed, \u201cI found them together this morning. I called you right away, but you weren\u2019t answering.\u201d He paused and took a deep breath, sweat dripping from his nervous, handsome brow. \u201cI didn\u2019t know what to do, so I recorded it. I thought you might know what it means.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeanette took a step backwards as Jeff held out his phone in his trembling fingers. An image of tiny people appeared on the screen. They stood arm-in-arm on the high-dive of the hotel swimming pool. They jumped together, plummeting into the water over and over as blood, viscera, and mucus trailed behind them. Children played below in their water-wings and innertubes, unaware of the mortal struggle in their midst.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s dying,\u201d Jeff whispered. \u201cIn a good way.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jeanette nodded and squeezed Jeff\u2019s hand. \u201cAnd you say they\u2019ve been doing that all morning?\u201d<\/p>\n

The duo steadied each other as they walked over to the indoor pool. The little deaths had toweled themselves off and were now sitting on the headrest of plastic lounge chair, gasping and hemorrhaging together in each other\u2019s arms. They turned and beamed at their living counterparts with raw contentment.<\/p>\n

Jeanette Richardson and Jeff Fischer eloped the following weekend. The members of their Reddit community sent best wishes, virtual flowers, and pictures of their little deaths in party hats.<\/p>\n

On the morning of their fiftieth anniversary, after a long night celebrating their bold and fearless lives, Jeanette and Jeff\u2019s deaths woke to find themselves submerged beneath crystal blue waters. A mountain spring poured over their tiny heads and shoulders as they bobbed to the surface of the lake. The sky was warm and dark with wisps of fog, and hints of light. They weren\u2019t sure how they had gotten to this place, but dreamlike recollection emerged from the shadows of their minds. Onward, onward the elderly couple had traveled, despite their aching backs and ancient frames. The movement of their bodies, gently ascending to the summit of the mountain, had lulled the little deaths into a gentle slumber. Now, as the sun broke through over the cliffs, the two little deaths breached from the water and vanished into vapor in a singular moment of birth.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ELLIOTT ZEE<\/strong> is a queer Jersey expat who gave up his spray tan for Birkenstocks and escaped to the Pacific Northwest. He has stories published in Five2One Magazine; The Molotov Cocktail Magazine<\/em>; and Mad Scientist Journal<\/em>. He also has work forthcoming with the Love and Bubbles <\/em>Anthology.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Elliott Zee     Jeanette\u2019s death was a cute little thing that wriggled in her lap like a newborn kitten. It was so small that it could fit in the palm of her hand, where it would gurgle and sputter … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":7896,"menu_order":5,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-7904","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P15duy-23u","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7904","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7904"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7904\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7969,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7904\/revisions\/7969"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7896"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.jerseydevilpress.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7904"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}