Thirteenth Hour

By Gina Lynelle Schaefer

"Life is a gift, not an obligation. The stuff that you endure, the torture of childish bullies, divorces that are no fault of your own, and all the other squabbles you have complained about are a mere nuisance in the universe. There are much more horrible things and occurrences that people must endure. Even yourself, in past lives."

These are the first words spoken to Merritt by her quirky spirit guide, Alma Chaser, before she journeys through the lost hour of the time-change dimension, where she uncovers worlds where serial killers play, where evil spirits dance, and where she uncovers the triggers that ignite her own unmotivated anger and the hidden evils buried within her soul as she takes on other lives in parallel worlds and times.

Alma looks up. "Oh, that's the tunnel, ready to take you to your first destination. Don't worry. It doesn't hurt. It's quite fun, actually." But before she can finish her sentence, Merritt's soul is gone to dance through time through the portal of the thirteenth hour.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637108574

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Thirteenth Hour

Gina Lynelle Schaefer

Copyright © 2021 Gina Lynelle Schaefer

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2021

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-63710-856-7 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63860-869-1 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-63710-857-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 2021

Chapter 1884

Baby Farmer

Judgement

Bedpans and Lab Rats

Speakeasies and Gangsters

The Boy in the Box

Cremated Alive

Glamis Castle

Chapter 1963

A8450

They Did, We Did

Seventies Disco

Chapter 2021

To my incredible husband, Gary, and my beloved son, Joseph.

Look, lovebug, we did it again!

2021

What the Fu…

Crash. The car lurched forward, then another crash. That stupid bitch! Merritt threw her arms up in the air in disgust as another hit thrust her forward again, this time leaving a pounding feeling that vibrated through her chest.

Gasping, she turned the key, the engine rumbling as she pressed her foot on the accelerator. A screech later, the car began to move again. The 2004 Explorer was as old as her but looked about twenty years older. Damn hand-me-down. Beggars can’t be choosers, Dad always says.

Whatever!

Hauling ass down a narrow bike path in a car was not in the top ten of her best-decisions list, but facing her pursuers would be an even worse disaster.

Why the hell is Brandy such a bitch! Merritt screamed while pounding on the steering wheel, nearly causing another disaster with a metal fence. She backed up and hit a curb, pulled forward, and backed again, attempting to get the car around as Brandy trapped her in with her 2018 Camry.

What the hell do you want? she called out, only to be answered with the vile sound of Brandy’s crony’s vicious laughter.

Fuck this, Merritt said to herself and drove over a curb, tearing off her front end, and paraglided over the school lawn and flew straight into the school sign: James Madison High School, Home of the Champs. She saw the giant M topple down with a huge clunk onto the hood of her car, and as then again as it toddled over in slow motion, falling forward onto the windshield at the same time the airbags exploded and the world went dark for a moment. Or so she thought. It was uncertain how long she lay there in the mechanical wreckage before the sound of sirens and a man with a fire helmet peeked in on her.

Miss, are you okay?

Fuck no, I’m not okay! But those words wouldn’t come out. Nothing would come out right about now. She was there, she knew what happened, but her voice was not working, her body was numb, and everything around her was so loud.

It’s bad. Get the Jaws in here! No way we’re pulling her out. Probably drinking, Merritt heard the man say in a radio.

Hey, moron, I’m right here! Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. But she could not tell him that. He didn’t even know if she was alive or not. Fucking Brandy! I hope she pays for this.

Brandy or her band of materialistic idiots were long gone, and the only semblance of her left was an entourage of officers and ambulances and an old couple standing that Merritt had no recollection of who they were.

No, sir, didn’t see anything. Was just driving by from my son’s house and saw the sign had tumbled onto the car. Wife called ya’ll. Couldn’t wake her. No, she was out cold. Probably drinking. You know how kids are these days. Sure, you can call us. We don’t get out much.

Why do old people always think that if a kid gets in a wreck, they’re drinking? Think the obvious—mean-ass bitch bullies torturing their prey on a Wednesday night, looking to kill them so they can be so fucking sad in the morning when the morning announcements offer up a moment of silence between the pep rally announcements! And don’t forget to sign up for student council!

Merritt tried again to open her eyes bigger, to see beyond the red-and-blue-lights blur, to holler out again, but no sound, to reach out, but her limbs were pinned down in the mangled Ford, saturated with the sticky, smelly mess and a merciless headache. What’s that fucking sound? Ah, shit, my car—Dad’s gonna kill me!

Again, the world went dark, until…

Merritt, can you hear me? A female medic shone a bright penlight into her face while forcing one eye open.

Yep! Can’t say a damn thing, though. Appears you have my jaw clamped up.

Her vitals seem good. Call Southeast and let them know we’re bringing her in. Wait, take this. The medic took her phone from the seat and handed it to Helmet Dude talking to a police officer. Call her parents and let them know where she’s being transported.

By all means, scare the shit out of them. Merritt felt herself being lifted and pushed into the ambulance. Damn, this is like the MRI tube from last summer. Mom freaked when she fell off the diving board—what is this going to do to her? Maybe she will be so scared that she will forget that I totaled the car while escaping the Cunt Club!

Merritt tried to call out that she was okay; again, her mind was working and knew what words it wanted to formulate, but no sound came out. She couldn’t even get her lips to move. All there was to do was close her eyes, feel the pounding in her head, and wait. That bitch Brandy!

Twenty minutes later, she was in the emergency room, hooked up to a machine in a side hallway, waiting for a triage room. The ER was packed, and although she had some priority, having come by ambulance, there were far worse injuries and illnesses to deal with. Through her subconscious state, she listened to the sobbing of scared mothers; a loud complainer about how she was hungry and if she went to get something, if she would lose her place in line; a toddler screaming bloody murder; and a code blue announcement overhead.

Crap, I hope that isn’t for me.

Somewhere in the fog of this were her own parents and Arlene, her little sister. Waiting for a doctor or a nurse or anyone to tell them something. Mom crying, dad handing over insurance cards in a stoic state, while Arlie clung to him, wide-eyed, begging for reassurance that sis would be okay, while he gave the stink eye to mom, silently begging her to take Arlie, while she pretended not to notice.

Damn, that’s cold. Merritt felt more alert and attempted to look down but was unable to move, trapped in by a neck brace. She felt a prick and opened her eyes. Cute doctor! My god, what a smile!

Well, hello, there. Looks like you had a nasty smashup.

Merritt attempted a smile, but failed.

Your parents are out in the waiting room. I’m just gonna take some blood from you, and then we will send them on back.

Yep, you’ll see how sober I am. You’ll stand up for me, won’t you, Doc?

The lights were bright, and now it was more than the stethoscope that was cold. The room was freezing.

Pam, bring some warm blankets. Turning to her, the doctor continued, We’ll get you fixed up, as if reading her mind. As he spoke, she heard the desperate voice of her mom.

Merritt! Mascara running down her face, with the addition of tangled bangs, she was wearing her favorite jeans, despite the holes, and her painting sweatshirt, and as always, her mom looked beautiful. She ran toward her, pulling up a chair. Dad set Arlie loose and stopped the doctor.

How is she?

Nasty concussion, broken left wrist, may need surgery. We will just have to see. Lots of cuts and bruises. She’ll be here a while.

Was she drinking?

We ran some tests when she first arrived, and the preliminaries don’t seem to show she has any drugs or alcohol in her system.

What made her run into the school sign?

That’s a question for the police. They were wanting to talk to her tonight, but she is not in any shape to do that. I told them to come back tomorrow. Here, they left a card.

He handed over a card and looked back at her. She thought he gave her a wink, but between her blurred vision and the pain medication kicking in, he could have streaked through the room and she would not know for sure.

*****

Brandy nervously pulled into the school parking lot. The Explorer was gone, but the damage to the sign remained, along with yellow tape surrounding the flower bed around the sign. A backhoe had been parked beside it and ready for work, but the operator was discussing something with another man in a brown suit. Police cars and officers were rotating, pacing, occasionally talking to one another and then looking off in the distance with a sun glare on their black sunglasses.

She parked into her space and was met by Courtney and Hillary. Damn, you think she is okay.

Yeah, what if she is dead?

Brandy rolled her eyes. The bitch isn’t dead. She didn’t hit the sign hard enough. What we better hope for is that she doesn’t rat us out.

Hillary gulped. I would. I mean, my god, we chased her down! Brandy, what were you thinking? We caused her to get in a wreck. The airbags exploded! We hit it hard, Brandy!

Shut up! You think I don’t know that? It’s her word against ours. The three started toward the doors. Shit, the police are here. They’re bound to see the extra set of tire tracks. Do you think that is why they are here, to question everybody?

Brad texted me this morning. He said they were here at six when he came in for track practice. He said they found bones.

Courtney huffed. Hillary, your boyfriend is full of shit. They are just checking out the damage. You know how stupid the police are. They can’t figure out anything.

Excuse me?

Well, except for your dad, Brandy. We know he is brilliant.

Yeah, whatever. Let’s get inside. The more we hang around and stare, the more likely they are to start questioning us. As Brandy spoke, the bell rang. Shit, bro, I can’t get another tardy! My mom is still pissed about last week’s ECO.

The three of them ran to the class taught by Mrs. Schettfield, the English teacher they loved to hate and hated to love. By the time the minute bell rang, they were in a full-swing running match, which wasn’t easy in slides, tight leggings, and out-of-dress-code half shirts on. Schettfield greeted them at the door with a cup of coffee in her hand and a fake plastered smile, deciding on whether she was going to mark them tardy or not.

Brandy?

Yes, Mrs. Schettfield? she asked in her whining fake voice. Yeah, she can take the tardy.

You’re wanted in Mr. Piston’s office.

Now, what? She was used to getting called to the office for every stupid thing the teachers came up with to write her up, but it was usually her AP, not the principal-principal. Damn, I’m gonna get kicked off the squad if I keep getting these ECOs!

Go on in. They’ve been waiting for you.

Mrs. Baron, a smug slender blond lady that always wore too much makeup and made a ridiculous fuss over Mr. Piston—Probably has some sick crush on him, Brandy mused—guided her back to a partially closed door. Brandy lifted her fist to knock, but the door fell open, revealing two official-looking men in suits in chairs in front of Mr. Piston’s desk, with him sitting in the large leather desk chair, leaning back, with his legs crossed. Behind her she could hear her mom’s excited voice as she entered the front office.

Where is she? You can’t do this! She’s got rights! Brandy looked behind her as she heard Ms. Baron ushering her in.

Mom?

Brandy, don’t say a thing. Your dad is on his way up here.

What’s going on?

Brandy, I think it is best that you sit down. Mr. Piston motioned to an uncomfortable chair that he pulled from the back of the office for her to sit. Cautiously she sat, while the other men stood, towering over her.

Brandy, as you probably have already heard, there was an accident at the front sign last night and one of our fellow students was hospitalized.

Getting haughty while sitting back with her arms crossed, she responded, Yeah, well, what does that have to do with me?

Stay quiet, Brandy! We will wait until your father gets here.

We’ve got video from our surveillance camera that clearly shows you and two other students involved in chasing her.

Brandy, not a word. Her mother put a protective hand over her. Mr. Piston, you have no right to question her like this.

Ma’am, we do. The older of the two gentlemen held up a badge. We have surveillance that your daughter and two of her friends were involved in this, and we need to get to the bottom of this.

Brandy looked back and forth between the two drabbed-suited men and her mother, her heart pounding as the right corner of her mouth began to twitch.

Her father is a police officer, and you will be hearing from him.

The younger man made a snarky sound before saying, Ma’am, with all due respect, you need to get your daughter an attorney. The older man made a grunt and what sounded like a muffled huff.

Meanwhile, the voices of Hillary and Courtney sounded in the front office as each one of them was ushered into a designated AP’s office. The older man sat down and got to eye level with Brandy.

Honey, you’re in trouble. You were caught on camera, and it is a matter of time before your girlfriends call you out as the mastermind. A girl is in the hospital because of this foolishness. It will be better for you if you are honest up front.

Don’t say a word, Brandy. Elisa held the phone to her ear and pressed her fingers to the other. Honey, you’ve got to come to the school now.

Brandy began to feel weak in the knees as her stomach knotted up. I think I’m gonna throw up.

As she held her stomach and bent forward, Fernando, the lead maintenance man, started hollering out front. Mrs. Baron immediately jumped to attention. My lord, now, what is going on now?

A body, miss, they found a body.

Mrs. Baron scrambled out of the office, looking back. Brandy, you stay right there and don’t say a word, you hear me?

From the front office, she pushed herself up on her tiptoes to ty to look over the head of the receptionist and another secretary out the window. Two more police cars pulled up, and more suits. The men working on the sign, the backhoe operator, and some other guy who didn’t seem to know what to do backed up and let the cops through.

One of the secretaries went back to Mr. Piston’s office. You should probably see what is going on.

Damn, maybe Brad isn’t full of shit after all.

It was impossible to see from the window what the crowd of men was doing except that one man was knelt by a shallow hole that the backhoe began to create. He got up, pulled out his phone, and backed away while talking on the phone. Meanwhile, she heard a phone ring in Mr. Piston’s office.

Officer Patton, Brandy’s dad, drove in the parking lot in his patrol car. Meanwhile, Brandy started to stand but quickly sat down as she began to hurl, while no sound was heard from the other assistant principals’ offices. Fuck, I can feel them ratting me out all ready. Bitches will be snitches!

Outside, Officer Patton stepped out of his squad car and noticed the commotion near the sign. He pulled out his cell phone to take pictures of the damage. He checked the records; he knew what happened, and the sick feeling in his stomach told him that there was no doubt that his troubled child was behind it. And with another kid in the hospital, there was no getting her out of it. Not that he wanted to at this point.

Walking closer to the scene, he saw the other detectives. What, Walters and Hobbs? Those guys are homicide! Oh god, please don’t let that kid be dead. As he stepped up closer, an officer that he helped train not more than six months ago responded with, Back off, Officer, we’ve got this handled.

My daughter is involved. I was called here to the school. I just want to see what I’m in for.

Typically, in situations where an officer’s family member was involved in an incident, they would get a heads-up out of professional courtesy, but as he was speaking, he noticed the ME was pulling up. Okay, now, this isn’t what I was expecting. Looking closer at the detectives, he noticed Walters coming closer, wiping dirt off his knees, and then saw what they were looking at. Bones, but very small ones, similar to an animal’s. What’s going on? Stepping closer, to his horror, he saw the tiny intact skeletal hand of a small child.

*****

Merritt, you need to drink something.

Opening her eyes, she got a clear view of her worried mom. I’m okay, Mom. Really, they are making too much of this.

Yeah, well, they don’t keep you here for nothing. Police have been here. They want to talk to you.

It wasn’t my fault, I swear.

I know, honey. They know the girls involved. They are gonna get what’s coming to them.

Merritt attempted to roll her eyes, but it hurt too much. She was too tired to speak, but if she could, she’d tell her mom to forget it. Brandy and her cronies had spent all year torturing her; the last thing she needed was one more thing for them to hold over her head. All the cheerleading squad at James Madison High was a cesspool of evil. This would just make it worse. Panic began to set in. A tear fell out of the corner of her eye. Mom!

Calm down, let me get the nurse. Her mom rushed out, and she heard her arguing with a nurse. You don’t understand, she has severe anxiety. She needs something to keep her calm. This is too much for her! She is—

She was cut off by the buzzing of her phone. It was the school nurse, wanting to know Merritt’s status. I’m sorry, the doctor hasn’t been in yet. As she was talking, she noticed an officer walking into her daughter’s room. I’ve got to go. Running in behind him, she asked, Officer, do we have to do this now?

Don’t worry, Mrs. Engles,

It’s miss. Sam let out an audible sigh, It’s Ms. Engles. Look, Merritt is stressed. She has barely said two words, and she is in pain. Her voice was trembling as she rambled on with excuses.

That’s okay. We know what happened. Bullies should be more aware that Big Brother is always watching.

I’m sorry, I don’t follow.

The school caught the whole thing on camera. We know the girls. One is about to be taken into custody for reckless driving and whatever other charge we can think of. Her friends flipped on her to avoid charges themselves. It will all work out.

Do you think she’ll have to go to court?

Eh, doubtful. It’s hard to go against a camera as an eyewitness. I imagine she will plead out and get stuck doing community service.

Great, something else for her to make me miserable about. Merritt looked up and tried to force out a smile. Am I getting out of here soon?

"Well, that’s up to your doctor, but don’t you worry about anything else. As far as we’re concerned—and when I say we’re, I mean the police—you are good as gold."

My car, how am I going to get it fixed?

Sweetheart, let’s not worry about that right now.

Mom only calls me sweetheart when she is really trying to convince herself that things are not as awful as they really are.

Ma’am, I don’t believe I introduced myself. I am Officer Markson. I’m a detective with juvenile crimes. I want to give you my card and encourage you to file for crime victims compensation. It will help take care of your bills and help with the damages of the car, if you are having a hard time getting the other party to take responsibility.

Thank you so much. Mom’s lip was beginning to quiver as she was making attempts to hold it together. With her as a single mom working two jobs and barely being able to pay the rent, the idea of hospital bills coming in was devastating to her.

Her goodbyes were interrupted by the sound of Merritt’s phone ringing. She noticed that there were thirteen missed calls from her best friend.

Honey, it’s Zoe. Do you feel like taking a call?

Merritt lifted a cracked smile, but her thoughts were, What the heck is she calling me during school hours for? A sin that was strictly prohibited at JM High. She reached out her hand, dying to know about the commotion happening at the school but not sure how long she could maintain a conversation. The pain medication worked, but it clouded her brain something awful.

Just for a minute.

Uh…hello? Merritt answered, petrified at how scratchy her voice sounded.

Girl, you ain’t gonna believe the commotion around here!

What she wanted to say was, Yeah, I heard some bitch ran this other bitch into the school sign and now one is in the hospital and the other was on her way to jail, but what actually came out was, Huh?

They found a body!

Wait, what? Merritt tried to pull herself up in her bed, but her arm and side hurt too bad, only allowing her to let out a groan. Her mom came closer, adjusting her pillow a bit, which was no help at all, and pushed some of her bangs to the side, again no help.

They found a body, bro, no lie!

What?

You mean I hit somebody?

No, dumbass, some prehistoric shit. Anyway, the talk is all over school.

Merritt’s mom was giving her a look.

Look, I’ve got to go. Maybe we can do some EVPs there when I get out, Merritt responded.

Zoe’s voice softened. Are you okay? she asked, mumbling. Fuck, I should have been with you.

Stop it. We’ll talk later. My mom wants me off the phone.

What were you whispering about?

Nothing. She’s just worried about me.

Her mom gave her an inquisitive look, opened her mouth again, and then shut it. Look, I’ve got to go pick up Arlie from your dad’s so he can come and visit you. I will be back tomorrow. Hopefully, they will let you out by then.

Merritt leaned back and closed her eyes. She felt her mom kiss her on the head, tucking in the already-tucked covers and whispering, You really gave us a scare, you know.

Enough to get you and Dad back together?

Merritt really wanted to say it, but she felt it best not too. It would just bring more hurt to her and remind her that her dad wanted a younger, prettier model. Can you leave my phone?

You’re just going to get right back on to Zoe.

She has class. She won’t be able to talk.

Frowning, her mom walked back and pulled a charger out of her purse. I’ll put it right here, but you need to get some rest.

Fine.

She closed her eyes again, only to hear within two minutes somebody wrapping her arm up with a blood pressure machine.

How am I supposed to get some rest with that going on? For some reason, she thought it was her mother again and then felt foolish when she realized that it was a nurse, a tall slender nurse with long highlighted hair, in teal scrubs, pink fingernails.

It looks like you had a pretty bad accident.

And you look like an Easter egg.

To Merritt’s surprise, the nurse let out a chuckle. You and I are going to get along just fine. My name is Alma, by the way.

I’m Merritt, but we won’t be knowing each other long. Just passing through.

I see, Alma said thoughtfully as she read her chart and wrote some numbers on the dry-erase board at the foot of her bed. You know, that’s what we all do. Passing through, that is.

Normally, Merritt didn’t like chatty type of people, but she liked the hint of a Spanish accent she had, and her voice sounded sweet."

Do you sing? Merritt asked.

Do I sing? Well, that’s a peculiar question.

You just have that kind of voice. You know, like a singer.

Well, perhaps I have in my journeys. Standing beside her and checking her pulse, Alma continued, I’ve been on so many I think I lost track.

Merritt opened her eyes wide. The nurse looked to be in her late twenties, maybe midthirties, if she was aging well. You hardly look like you have been around the world.

Oh, but I have. All over throughout the eras.

Yeah, right. Since when do nurses lead such prestigious lives?

Alma looked down at herself in surprise. Oh, this? Well, I come as you are willing to receive me. I can’t come in as some stranger, can I?

Oh no, are you a police officer? Is this about that body? Shit, oh no, I mean, I had no id—

Oh no! Alma put up her hands. You misunderstand. Oh, I know about the toddler found under the sign, and I guess that is why I’m here, but I know you had nothing to do with her being put there.

Merritt frowned, and between the meds and the activities of the morning, she was more confused than she ever had been in her entire life.

You see, Alma continued on, a little more slowly, I’m here to take you on a trip. She shook her head back and forth. Or a few, actually.

Wait, what? Have you been dipping into the pain meds too?

Laughing, she answered, You’re going to be a fiery one. I’m here to guide you.

Guide me through what?

Well, the doctors didn’t catch it right away. Now she was looking at her like a mother hen. You know, it really is always good to keep someone overnight. Damn health care should predict more injuries like this.

I had a car wreck, lady. I’m fine. Just banged up.

Oh, I know, and I think you will heal up quite nicely. It’s just… She hesitates.

It’s just what? Where’s the doctor?

Oh, he’s working on you. It’s just you are in my care now.

My eyes are open now, and there is no doctor around.

Oh, he’s here, but you just can’t see him because you and he are not in the same realm. Shame, too. He’s cute.

Okay, you are batshit crazy, and you need to get the fuck out of here!

See, that is part of the problem: you’re a bitch.

You came in here hollering your nonsense!

What nonsense? You had an anoxic brain injury, causing a slight heart attack, but fortunately for you, it happened to be during the thirteenth hour, which means you get to make up for lost chances. That part is a good thing.

Anoxic what?

Don’t look so glum. It’s your fault you were not wearing a seat belt. I swear, you kids!

What the hell are you talking about?

Oh, I guess I’m rattling on. Let me see, you hit your head so hard on the windshield, and then after that fact, the bags decided to explode after the sign crashed down, jolting your brain, causing it to swell, then you lost some oxygen, yada yada, pushing fluid in your skull, yada yada…

What are you saying? Am I dead?

Patience. This medical stuff is hard. Looking up as if she was thinking hard, she continued, Oh yeah, we change the clocks today.

What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

How many hours will we have today?

Merritt glared at her.

Well, how many hours?

Merritt answered, I don’t know…twelve?

Nope, thirteen.

What? How do you figure?

Oh, it’s easy. You see time change. We gain an hour or lose an hour, but where do those hours go?

I hate riddles.

They glide through time. Alma swooped her arm as if she were sliding off toward a direction. And that is what you will do, my love.

Merritt started looking for her call button but then realized all the medical instruments were off her and she was just lying in a plain bed in a room that seemed much different from her hospital room, which had smelled of stale rubbing alcohol; now the smell of yellow roses wafted through the room. Alma smiled, breathed in. Oh, I love when the Holy Ghost is involved!

Merritt looked around, astonished. Are you sure I’m not dead?

Nope! Just ready for traveling mode. Merritt looked at her. You see, Merritt, your current life has just invaded your past—

What?

Ta, ta, ta! Alma was waving her index finger to indicate no. I’m speaking, and it is rude to interrupt. Now, what was I saying? Straightening herself up, she continued, Oh yes, you will glide through time through the tunnel of the thirteenth hour and endure all the smells, sights, and lessons that lived before you were to learn but failed.

I don’t get it.

Alma looked at her firmly. Life is a gift, Merritt, not an obligation. The stuff that you endure, the torture you consider to be of childish bullies, divorces that are no fault of your own, and all the other squabbles you’ve had to complain about are a mere nuisance in the universe. There are much more horrible things and occurrences that people must endure. Even yourself in past lives.

Annoyed, Merritt answered, So you’re sending me back to a past life.

A few, actually. But don’t worry, it is for your own good, and Ms. Alma Chasing—she took a bow—that would be me, will be your guide through the galaxy.

You mean through the times?

"Galaxy sounds more dramatic."

What is the purpose of this?

To understand your unmotivated anger, to drive out the hidden evils that reside within your soul, to avoid future mistakes that present Merritt will make in her future, by visiting Merritts under the aliases of lives actually lived in parallel worlds and times.

I’m not sure to be intrigued by your delusions or to yell for help. And what the fuck is that? Merritt looked up into a bright light with a pulling sensation that blew a warm wind right through her.

Alma looked up. Oh, that’s the tunnel, ready to take you to your first time destination. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. It’s quite fun, actually.

But before she could finish her sentence, Merritt’s soul was gone, to dance through time.

1884

Freak Show

Hi! The young girl approached the new exhibit cautiously. My name is Minnie. What is yours?

John. The man reached out his enormous hand coagulated with tumors and scales to take hers, her frail tiny thin hand swallowed up by his, but it was okay. She could hear the kindness in his voice and see it in the small eyes hidden inside a mountain of a face. She belonged in his world, and he belonged in hers.

Did Mr. Torr adopt you too?

John chuckled. Well, not exactly, but well…well, he’s keeping me safe, I guess you can say. There’s not much work out there for people like me.

I wouldn’t know. Minnie hesitated, and then she went up to him and sat closer. I’m four. Mr. Torr got me away from where I was staying to bring me here.

Where are your parents?

There was a long thoughtful pause. I’m not sure. Where are yours? Minnie asked.

My mother died when I was about your age, and well…let’s just say my father didn’t know what to do with me, so after bouncing around from one place to another, I asked Mr. Torr to take me in. And he did.

Merritt, or Marjorie, as she would become known during this era, watched the scene unravel before her. She was up close to them, but they did not notice. She was a ghostly observer lost in the moment and mesmerized by what she saw.

Ahh! Glad to see you making acquaintances, Minnie. You’re up. You can be friends later.

A jolly tall slender man entered from the other side of the tent. He was dressed in a tuxedo outfit with a tail on his jacket, a baby blue bow tie and a top hat. To Marjorie he looked like something out of the Nutcracker play. He carried a gentlemen’s cane which he used to punctuate his directions, pointing here and there. Minnie smiled at John and took Mr. Torr’s hand while waving goodbye in a touching innocent fashion.

Although she was curious about the man, Marjorie’s inner instincts told her to follow the curious little girl. Her familiarity was captivating. Her voice was squeaky, and she was and odd one, with little hair which stood straight up on her head, a pointy noise, big feet but small hands.

Following the pair, she exited the enormous tent, realizing that it had to be a circus tent of some kind, with its huge round shape that had red and white stripes and lit with a stream of old-fashioned lanterns hung inside and stretching to the outside, crisscrossing the way an assortment of different tents did, some just as big and some small, peppered with wagon-looking buildings with dark-purple and burgundy curtains with a mysterious glow.

Crowds of people laughing punctuated the pathways, their conversations buried in music, while the stars twinkled magnificently overhead. The night wind whispered through her as Marjorie looked down and noticed that she was now dressed in a brilliant emerald chiffon dress with black lace and gloves, like those of the other surrounding women, with hoops bulging out from behind; their gloved arms snaked around men guiding them through a sea of clowns and jugglers walking the grounds.

The stimulating activity made it difficult to follow Minnie and Mr. Torr as she squeezed past patrons, who only acknowledged her with nods as she briskly moved past them to keep up. At one point, she thought she lost track of them, until…

Oops, I’m sorry… Minnie’s voice was sweet as she looked with wide eyes hiding behind thick bottle-like glasses. Your hat is so pretty!

A little hand reached up, the girl not nearly tall enough to reach Marjorie’s waist. Marjorie lifted her arm to discover her black hat scoff.

You’re so pretty, the little girl chirped as Mr. Torr reached for her, tipped his hat, and pulled at her again toward a pen holding an elephant with a small red and cold hat strapped to his head. Through Minnie’s gibberish, Merritt could hear her shout out in excitement, Twinkle, twinkle, Mr. Elephant! Mr. Torr scooped her up and placed her small frame on his shoulder so she could lean in and placed her hand between the animal’s eyes. Merritt’s heart immediately began to feel a warmth as the love that the child had for the elephant was absorbed through her body.

Now, now, the show must go on. I’ll take you to visit all the animals in the morning, and I will let you feed some of them too.

Minnie leaned in and kissed Mr. Twinkle between the eyes as other children were gathering around the pen. With Minnie still in Mr. Torr’s arms, the two weaved through the crowds until they came upon the back entrance of another tent—a circus tent.

Blocked by happy families enjoying the night, Marjorie cut across the pen and climbed out the other side and noticed another man, well dressed but not as astonishing as Mr. Torr, taking tickets at the front entrance of another circus show tent, the one that Mr. Torr and Minnie had gone into. Picking up her skirts, she ran around, unnoticed, and slipped into a back entrance.

Marjorie, there you are! an extremely tall man greeted her with a warm smile. Looks like you stirred up quite a crowd!

She looked around at the men on unicycles, jugglers, and dancers practicing a routine, and Minnie and Mr. Torr in a far corner, the older man speaking to the child in soft hushes as he placed a costume of feathers on her.

Bird Girl! Marjorie said out loud. The tall man, Robert, Marjorie’s memory reminded her, responded, Yes, everyone is so excited to see her.

What is he putting on her?

Oh, something he asked Ruth to make for her.

Marjorie stared, horrified at what she was seeing. Torr was placing a bird costume on the child with bird-feet slippers and a feather headband on top of her practically bald head. In return, she took off her glasses, whimpering, I can’t see! to Mr. Torr.

It’s okay, it’s just for the show. I’ll give them right back when you are finished.

Marjorie wondered if Minnie understood how completely absurd she looked, and if she would ever recognize the extent of exploitation that this guardian that she trusted and adored did to her.

Marjorie’s gut twisted as she watched Torr whisper something to Minnie right before going out to face an audience intoxicated with excited anticipation. In the near distance, an announcement was heard.

Ladies and gentlemen, young and old…

The audience quieted down, except for a few fussy babies, as a spotlight moved around before stopping to shine on the traveling showman.

My name is Samuel Joseph Torr, and I am here to provide you with oddities that you will never encounter in this world!

Oh god, Marjorie silently gasped, this is a freak show, and that little girl is the star! Alma, where the hell are you? My god, Minnie, get out of here! You’ve got to see what he is doing to you!"

Loud applause was exploding throughout the tent as Minnie pulled on the back of her costume and got ready to make her grand entrance.

Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for me to present to you Minnie Ha Ha, Koo, Koo, Bird Girl!

The sound of whoops and hollers bounced around the tent as Minnie ran out, nearly tripping on her big bird slippers, arms stretched out, hands curled under, with her thumbs underneath her index fingers, as she yelled gibberish out to the crowd. A man in a similar black bird suit began to play music on a violin as she jumped up and down, flapping her arms, as if participating in a ceremonial dance. The crowd loved it, whistled as the allegro was clumsily performed. Her small narrow head gawking back and forth, she rushed up to the edge of the seating while attendees threw birdseed at her while she pounced up to catch it in her mouth, falling over her big slippers, getting up, and jumping around some more.

I’ve got to stop this!

Stop what? It’s going great! The crowd loves her!

Marjorie looked up at Robert. How could you say such a thing? How can you even think this is right? Feeling the urge to protect the child, to stop this atrocity, she ran out to the middle of the ring, hollering, Stop this! Don’t you have respect for yourself? A closer look revealed Minnie was toothless, and she let out little raspy coughs when she sucked in the birdseed beating down on her. Startled, she gave her a sideways glare while tripping and falling over her feet but getting right back up each time while squawking at the attention. You don’t have to do this.

But she does! Feeling a harsh yank on her arm, Marjorie looked up to see Mr. Torr pulling her out of the ring. What the hell are you doing?

Why are you doing this?

What, your cut isn’t enough and you have to embarrass me like this? You’re the one that said she’ll fill the tent, more so than Merrick! And now it is a done deal, you’re pulling this! What more do you want, woman?

Marjorie gasped. I couldn’t be responsible for this. The outright bullish treatment of the disabled! Looking back at him, she said, I’m not responsible for this. She looked back in the ring as the show continued. I can’t be.

I’ve had enough of you tonight. Go back and get some rest. I’ll soothe this over with the crowd before you are searching the hospitals for another replacement.

I’m a freak finder, was being mulled over and over in Marjorie’s head as she walked the paths between the tents. She walked a few paces before looking up and noticing in a darkened side path a lone gypsy wagon painted in gold, with thick purple velvet curtains on the window and a lantern, light flickering, just above the door, with a sign:

Powerful Necromancer

Warning: Powers above the Laws of Nature

10 Cents a Reading

Marjorie walked toward the wagon, with a cautious feeling, as if she were breaking some sacred rule. As she placed a boot on the first step, it creaked, and the flame in the lantern sparked high sent out a flickering wisp. Fearful, she turned, but as she did, she heard an ominous creak. Turning around, she saw that the door opened, and a faint voice sang out, Come in.

Cautiously stepping inside, she looked straight ahead to see a darkened silhouette ushering her to come in closer.

Can you really raise the dead?

Indeed, I can.

So if you can raise the dead, can you send them back? Back to the realm they came from, I mean.

Perhaps I may be able to oblige, if that were to be the will. The silhouette moved something heavy that rested at the side of her chair. I have in my book the secrets of all creation, life and death. The shadow then lit a match, holding it upright, until allowing the sulfur to fill the air before she lit a single candle, far enough to keep herself a mystery but close enough to reveal the feminine outline of a shapely woman and a leather-bound book that looked much older than the Victorian era Marjorie was being held hostage in.

I can raise the spirits who have passed on, guide them to their afterlife if need be.

Look, I don’t want any of that. I just need you to send me back to where I came from.

Are you dead, child?

Well, no…not exactly. Looking around at the lined shelf filled with crystal balls and dangling crystals and small bottles with odd labels such as Dragon’s Blood and Black Root, she said, Never mind. This is all nothing but a parlor trick, anyway.

Oh, chill out, I’m just playing with you. The silhouette now lit a larger lantern, revealing Alma grinning at her. Oh, and I’m not sending you back anytime soon. You’ve got stuff to learn.

What the hell? What is it with all the ‘I can raise the dead’ bullshit?

Oh, that. Pretty dramatic, isn’t it? I thought that would get you. Okay, so you left 2021 pretty quickly. So let me catch you up.

Shaking out her hands to her side, turning around one direction and back another, and with rapid speech, Marjorie kept repeating, This is a dream, this is a dream.

Oh, for crying out loud! Now who’s being dramatic? It’s 1884, and your name is Marjorie Stover, and you work as a ‘talent scout’ for Sam Torr’s traveling carnival. Good one, too. I must admit, some of the talents you have brought in have drawn some amazing crowds. Did you see that Bird Girl? They love her!

She’s a child! Marjorie shrieked. How can exploiting a child even be legal?

Says the girl who’s bared all and put it on Snapchat. Give me a break.

That’s different!

How? Look, Minnie doesn’t know better. Her life is like this due to circumstances out of her control. People are cruel because they do not understand her condition. It is easier for them to dehumanize instead of believing that God could do this to a human being.

Marjorie looked around the tiny wagon, glanced at the crystals and bottles again, then whispered, What can I do?

Alma stood up, walked around her table, and sat on a bench underneath the bottle shelf covered in burgundy satin and round-shaped velvet pillows. She motioned for Marjorie to join her. I know this is a lot to take in, she said, sighing, and I know that every thought in your soul wants to push this off as a dream. She looked straight at her, Alma’s comedic tone somber. But I must assure you, this is not a dream. She pulled the curtain slightly to the side, the moon smiling at her face. I’m here to advise you, not to tell you what to do. You get enough of that in your time. You know you have a spirit guide that follows you, right?

Marjorie looked down and shuffled to sit next to Alma. My grandma used to talk to us about spirit guides and guardian angels. My mom never believed in them, but I always wanted to.

Well, it doesn’t matter if your mom doesn’t believe in guardian angels and spirit guides, because they believe in her. Placing her hand on Marjorie’s shoulder, Alma continued, Just like yours believe in you. Then leaning back into the pillows, she continued, Sometimes angels and guides get a bit worried about their assignments and they ask for a heavenly follow-up.

Is that where you come in?

I guess, Alma answered and shrugged. I am not sure how to put it, because you do have free will. Even as you temporarily take over someone’s life, you have the will for that life.

Wait, you mean Marjorie is real?

Nodding, she said, Oh yes, she’s very real.

So where is her soul while I’m taking over?

She’s with you. The experiences you are experiencing are shared with her.

"So I’m like invasion-of-the-body snatchers or something? I’m so confused. Where is the real