Dusgadh: Essence of Life

By Margaret A Daly

The coldness starts in... It's not just any coldness. It's the kind that takes my breath away. It makes my body hairs stand at attention as the goose pimples form on my skin. A prickly sensation, like a million needles made of ice, all plunging into me at once, slowly depressing the frozen liquid they contain under the surface of my translucent membranes.This is the inexplicable feeling of another's presence.You can't see them, but I can.


Ember Malloch has always felt like the odd one in the bunch, but there's a reason for that. She can see the dead.

After losing everything, Ember learns that her life is not what she thought it was, nor are the people in it.
An unbridled strength is unleashed upon her as she learns her past, and discovers who she is. She will have to face her demons to survive while she has an awakening like no other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rukia Publishing US
• Release date: Oct 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393929147

Book preview

Embers Plague

What dreams will come tonight? Will I dream of death, of betrayal, of you, or maybe ... just emptiness will become me.

The familiar coldness creeps in, slithers around and grabs ahold of my soul. The deadly sound of silence overtakes everything else, muting life within me. Suffocating me.

This is my plague, it consumes me every day. What waits for me, what lurks in the shadows of my mind? In the darkest recesses of me, or at least the me I know. What dreams may come to me this night?

The coldness starts in... It's not just any coldness. It's the kind that takes my breath away. It makes my body hairs stand at attention as the goose pimples form on my skin. A prickly sensation, like a million needles made of ice, all plunging into me at once, slowly depressing the frozen liquid they contain under the surface of my translucent membranes.

This is the inexplicable feeling of another's presence.

You can't see them, but I can.

I can't say they are visitors because I didn't invite them, they are more like intruders. Barging in to my personal space, hijacking the vivid colors of my discontented self.

What do you want? Please, just go. Find someone else. Leave me be.

My words are hushed breathes, almost whispers forming small clouds against the sheet of blackness. They are pointless and ignored, left to evaporate in the night like a mist as the sun rises, but there is no sunlight, not yet. That won't come for another long, five hours.

What is to become of me?

Chapter One

My family was everything to me; it still is, I guess. Unfortunately, my family consists of only two people now. The substance of my life was taken from me. Ripped right from under me, like a Band-Aid from a bleeding wound. The burning flesh is still tender, just like the memory. It’s a day I try not to remember, but the shattered remnant of the girl I once was...she won’t let me forget it. The image plays like a scene from a film, forcing me to relive the worst day of my life.

I don’t know where my sister was when the call came, but I was in the lunchroom with my best friend, Phoebe. The guidance counselor, Mrs. Freeway, came in and called me over. She looked perplexed but remained silent as she led me back to her office. My sister stood there with a police officer. She was nodding to him, she looked to me and started to shake her head as her mouth turned into a grotesque frown. Before I could reach her, she passed out, falling into the officer’s arms. He caught her before glancing at me. His eyes were full of pity and I knew something bad had happened.

No amount of schooling could ever prepare me for what I would learn next.

Mrs. Freeway took my arm, but I pulled away and went to Becky. We carried her to a couch in Mrs. Freeway’s office. I took a seat and placed Becky’s head in my lap. Why weren't they getting Becky help?

What’s going on? I asked.

At that moment, a lady I didn’t know appeared in the doorway. There was some hand shaking, head nodding, and quiet talk. I couldn’t understand. My eyes fixated on her ID badge: Human Services. Everything I knew of these people was bad news. I’d heard stories of how they took children from their parents at even the smallest suspicion of abuse. Why is she here? She can’t possibly be here for us.

The lady slowly approached and kneeled down in front of me, taking in the sight of a seemingly unconscious Becky. She was here for us, and my mind went wild with the possibilities of her presence. Our parents were awesome. We never lacked for anything, and we were certainly never abused. Why would this woman need to stick her nose into our lives?

Hi, Ember, my name’s Jessica, she introduced herself. I’m from Human Services. I already knew who she was, and my impatience must have showed in my expression. I rolled my eyes and let out a long wisp of air, blowing it in her face.

What? Just tell me! My head was swirling, and a loud buzzing was taking over my thoughts.

Okay. She paused and looked at Mrs. Freeway. There was a fire...more like an explosion, at your house this morning.

Your parents were in the house, Ember, Mrs. Freeway said gently. I’m so sorry. Jessica’s here to take you and your sister to a foster home until we sort things out. Mrs. Freeway’s voice was full of concern, but quickly became muffled as my own sense of urgency suppressed it.

Oh, my God! My mom and dad—are they all right? Where are they? All at once, panic overtook my body. Wake up, Becky! Tears started to roll down my cheeks as I shook my unconscious sister. Now!

I went into survival mode. I threw Becky off me and stood up, pushing Jessica over and out of my way to clear a path for my escape. I darted for the door.

Hands were grasping at my arms, but I can’t recall who tried to stop me, whether it was Mrs. Freeway, the police officer, or someone else. It didn’t matter, I dodged them all.

Ember! Wait! I heard Becky’s voice calling me, but my body, my instincts, my fear had taken over. I ran out the door, out of the school and up the street. I wanted to go home. I needed to see for myself.

I came upon a scene of uniformed people and whirling lights. They were bright, somewhat blinding, even with the sun overhead. Fire trucks, cop cars, ambulances, and people—so many people—scrambled around what used to be my home. Yet it was silent, I heard nothing, and the people seemed to float by me as if they were caught in a time warp. When the coroner’s vehicle came into focus, and the open door revealed two black, lifeless forms on gurneys, my lungs seized up and I couldn’t breathe. I dropped to my knees as my hearing returned, and the hustle of the people surrounding me as I screamed for my parents.

I was tackled by my puppies; they covered me with kisses and soot from the rubble. An animal control officer approached with a cage; he slowed and set the pen down. I hadn’t thought I could feel any more pain, but the sight of him strangled me. I rocked back, and away from him, all the while clutching my puppies.

No, no, no, not them too.

Everything was happening so fast and I couldn’t stop it. I had no control. My whole world had been ripped apart, and this man was about to take away more. I opened and closed my mouth several times in an attempt to speak, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to him. I slumped down and buried my face in their fur, inhaling deeply. I wanted to remember their smell, sweet jasmine—they smelled like my mom’s perfume.

Miss, do you have a place to keep them? I shook my head and started to cry again.

Why was this happening?

I hugged them tightly and then wiped my face. The officer seemed to sympathize with my reluctance to let him take them, as he placed a hand on my shoulder, for comfort I guess. He assured me I could retrieve them as soon as I had a suitable place, but I was terrified I would never see them again. Somehow I had mustered the strength I needed and helped him put Zig and Zag into the cage. Their yelping and whining was tearing at my heart as if pulling a part of me with them.

I had caught something out of the corner of my eye—a cup. I picked it up and examined it; was this all I had left? My parents had gotten it for me just a few days before the fire. It was a simple cup, but it seemed so much more as I looked at the spot where our house used to be. The rest of my possessions charred and melted, were scattered across the black-covered earth that used to be our yard. As I stood there staring at the mess in front of me, I saw something glimmering. I looked around to be sure no one was watching me, and I sneaked over to the edge of the rubble.

I knew what it was the moment I drew close to it. My pendant. I must have forgotten to put it on that morning and it was covered with a thin layer of blackish-brown dust. When I touched it, the surface was cold; that seemed strange at the time since it was so close to the smoldering fire.

As I dusted it off, I caressed the pendant’s edges and thought of my mom. It was a heavy, thick metal with inlaid stone. I’d never seen another like it; it was truly one of a kind. I clutched the piece to my chest and I thought about the pendant. My thumb brushed the edges of the stone. It was smooth but seemed graded, as if it had been chiseled to create its unusual shape, and it was oddly shaped. The stone itself was split in half like those silly best friend necklaces, except there was no other half.

I remembered the day my mother had given it to me. I’d had this necklace since I was a child. My mom had said it was a family heirloom that had been passed on for generations. I recalled her telling me that the pendant chose its owner. I had jumped up and down, screeching with the excitement of the story. It picked me! I can still hear my young voice rambling on and on about the fairytale my mom revealed. Her face was radiant, with her tender eyes looking upon me as she told its story. The perfume she wore lingered in the air, I still smelled it when I closed my eyes. She’d said the necklace hadn’t been worn for centuries, but when I was born, its center flashed with life.

She said that was the only sign she needed to understand that the necklace had chosen me. I must have been five or six when she gave it to me. My eyes surely would have been huge saucers of wonder, I was so excited. The giddiness of that childhood moment was still very much alive. It was the first necklace I was ever given, and the most important piece I would ever be entrusted with.

Of course, at this time in my life I knew the story of the pendant was just something my mom had made up to make me feel as if I was the most important thing in the world. She was good at doing those kinds of things.

Someone touched my arm and got my attention—Jessica, the social worker, was there. As she spoke, I wondered how long she had been standing in front of me. On the street behind her was a car, and my sister sat in the backseat with her face frozen forward. There was no sense fighting the inevitable, so I closed my mouth and let her take me. Tired and defeated, she placed me in her car and drove us away. Away from our home.

I hardly remember the faces of those first caretakers. Becky and I only stayed in their home a few weeks, enough time to handle the legalities. At my parents’ funeral, I was completely numb. I think zombies acted more alive than I did. At the reading of the will, the estate lawyer had a monotone voice, and he kept droning on about things that just didn’t seem to matter. I felt lost. Nothing made sense to me. I don’t know how I would have survived it without Becky by my side.

Being eighteen, one of the older high school seniors, she was appointed as my legal guardian. It turned out that our parents had left us a healthy sum of money, which was a welcome surprise. Becky and I wanted to put our terrible past behind us and decided to start fresh somewhere else. Having