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What Comes After Death?
Whispers of fate swirl around the question: What comes after death? Some optimistically envision themselves gliding on fluffy clouds, serenaded by the sweet harmonies of angels. Others grimly imagine themselves plunged into the earth’s fiery core, destined to decompose in silent oblivion.
Could it be reincarnation? A fresh start? Or is the alternative a mind suspended in icy nothingness for all eternity? The five “saints” of the mostly departed St. Caspian chamber choir, however, held the answer tightly within their ghostly embrace. Cloaked in pitch darkness, they clung to one another, united in their spectral form. Yet, one among them remained a question mark: the “Jane Doe” of their group, an unidentified body that would later be unveiled as Penny Lamb.
What splendid fortune had graced her, being selected to reclaim life?
Time had passed since the fateful choice was made, liberating her from death’s frigid grasp, if only temporarily. The choir felt a swell of joy at Penny's return, tinged with a longing curiosity about who she had become. What pathways had she traversed? Whom had she encountered? Their minds were filled with questions, each wishing to delve deeper into her renewed existence.
As the air thickened with an ethereal chill, Mischa's excitement erupted, “OH! What if she became a mad, wicked superstar singer? Her vocal range was insane!” Ocean, rolling her eyes, countered with skepticism. “Yes, Penny’s voice was lovely, but I doubt she would—well, become… that.” Mischa shook his head stubbornly, reclaiming his spot on a battered crate, weary from their spectral conversation.
“Still, she was far better than you, Ocean,” Noel chimed in with a teasing lilt. Ocean gasped, indignation igniting her tone. “Sh-!! She was good, but I… we are ALL talented singers!” Noel’s smirk deepened, enjoying the friendly banter as he watched Ocean squirm. “You did sing flat…” he taunted. Ocean’s eye twitched with irritation. “I DON'T SING FLAT, NOEL!!!”
Constance, sitting nearby, stifled a chuckle while absentmindedly toying with her hair. “Let’s be honest, you did struggle at first, but you’re good now!” she reassured, gently placing a hand on Ocean's back, who pouted in playful defiance.
“Th-That doesn't matter!! We were discussing what Penny could be up to now that it’s been… well…” Ricky interjected, fingers dancing over a keypad. “Well, we seem to be trapped in a vacuum of void, where time stands still.” Ocean whipped her head towards Ricky, dread surfacing in her eyes. “...Don’t give me another mortality crisis, Ricky, please.”
“Oh, but mortality? We are dead, Ocean! Have you forgotten?” Noel remarked, lounging against the wall of the dusty, dim warehouse, which had long since forgotten the vibrancy of carnival life. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, lost in thought. “I hope she’s doing alright. I mean, I would have resorted to alcohol had I returned only to realize all my friends were gone. Even you, Ocean.”
The faint warmth of a smile emerged on Ocean's face as she leaned against Constance, comforted by her friend’s presence. “Maybe she just… lived a normal, mundane life. Finished school, enjoyed time with friends… I think that’d be nice…” Constance murmured, rubbing Ocean's shoulder gently as she fidgeted with her dyed hair.
“Why not aim higher?” Constance proposed, her voice soft yet curious. “Huh?” Ocean glanced up, intrigued. “I mean, that's what I would have done…”
“But she’s not you, Ocean,” Noel interjected unceremoniously.
“Sci-fi writer! Final guess!” Mischa piped up, attempting to shift the conversation’s focus, causing Ricky’s eyes to sparkle with excitement at the suggestion. “You think so?” he asked, animated. “Maybe she used the name Savannah! I should have told her the other names I had… I bet she has the most incredible comics ever!” He continued, invigorated by the possibilities of Penny’s new life.
“Whatever she became, I’m certain it was out of this world,” Ricky declared, gesturing dramatically with his hands. “I still feel awful that we knew next to nothing about her… I-I hope she didn’t take my fear of her to heart!!” Constance fretted, showing visible concern as Ocean resumed her hair-twirling.
“I called her a zero and a freaky monster. That’s hard to forget,” Ocean replied, forcing a chuckle to mask her disquiet. “I just hope she’s found happiness. How tragic to remember nothing about yourself and then somehow survive a roller coaster disaster! I’d be FURIOUS!” Noel exclaimed, his tone shifting to a more solemn note. “I wish I could have met Penny properly,” he added, sitting close to Mischa, who nodded thoughtfully.
“Penny Lamb is a badass name though! Tough!” Mischa stated, clenching his fist in approval. “Mischa Lamb is the opposite of tough,” Ocean corrected, letting her hands drop from her hair.
“No, no, that’s not how I see it! It’s like ox! Lambs can be fierce! Maybe she maim someone!”
“MAIM?! Mischa!”
Oh, if only Ocean truly understood.
“Maybe we should avoid making assumptions,” Ricky suggested, using his crutches to navigate toward the group, settling into his wheelchair with Ocean’s assistance. “Penny was, and can be, whoever she chooses to be! Everything she was, is, and will be is beautiful.” Constance leaned forward, curiosity piqued. “You figured all that out from just one conversation?”
Ricky shook his head, emphasizing his point. “It’s true for everyone. Everyone can channel their passions into something meaningful.” “Unless the men with fifty mansions come crashing down,” Mischa interjected with a touch of sarcasm. “No. Passion never dies,” Ricky asserted with conviction. “Mhm! Ricky’s right! Noel said so!” Ocean chimed in enthusiastically, only to be met with Noel’s dismissive scoff. “Ocean, I’ve told you that’s not what I meant.”
Mischa, his smile unwavering, added, “But love STILL conquers all!!!” Noel simply shrugged in response, “Yeah, sure, why not.”
“Regardless of what happens, I still wish we could have talked to Penny… or at least checked on her,” Constance said, fidgeting nervously with her bracelet.
“Would you like to?” A familiar voice echoed through the darkness, deep and mechanical yet oddly captivating. Ocean’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Um… did anyone else hear that?” she asked, glancing around at her friends, who exchanged confused looks. Noel leaned in, curiosity piqued as the shadows danced around them, hinting at mysteries yet to be uncovered.
Noel rolled his eyes, exasperation etched across his face. “No Ocean, it’s just you who heard the machine’s disembodied voice determining our fate.” “Don’t sass me, Noel!” Mischa shot back, rising from his spot and striding cautiously toward the battered fortune teller machine. He leaned in, peering into the darkened interior where Karnack, the mechanical oracle, lay lifeless, his cord gnawed upon by unseen teeth, leaving him as still as dust in a forgotten corner.
“This thing is still busted to hell,” Mischa murmured, giving the machine a light kick. “Mischa, be careful!!” Ocean’s voice rang out, laced with concern. “I am careful!” Mischa retorted, but the moment his foot made contact, the machine jolted to life, an array of lights blinking erratically as it malfunctioned. A cacophony of terrifying noises erupted, forcing everyone to cover their ears in an attempt to shield themselves from the auditory onslaught. “MISCHA!!!” Ocean shrieked, her voice barely cutting through the chaos. Constance dashed forward, her heart racing as she tried to help Mischa wrestle the machine into submission. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE OFF, RIGHT?!” she yelled, her voice tinged with panic, while Mischa, hands-free from his ears, shouted back, “I THINK SO!”
Ricky quickly joined the fray, followed closely by Noel and Ocean; together, they struggled to silence the unruly contraption. Amid their tumultuous efforts, the curtain behind them began to dance and swirl as if moved by an unseen force, capturing Ricky’s attention. He elbowed Noel, who turned, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Guys!!" he exclaimed, and the rest of the choir remained blissfully unaware of the glowing curtain pulsing like a heartbeat behind them. “Guys—oh my god, it's just like when we were caught by Father Markus for talking trash about the school!” Noel said breathlessly, grasping Mischa’s arm in a mix of excitement and fear. “You guys! Look at the curtain!” he urged, his voice rising in urgency.
Mischa spun around, disbelief washing over him. “What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, the machine's clamor still ringing in their ears. “CMON CONNIE! WE ALMOST HAVE IT OFF!!” Ocean cried out, visibly agitated by the ongoing ruckus. Constance, however, turned her attention to the curtain as she sensed something extraordinary.
“Ocean,” she said, gently patting her friend’s shoulder to get her attention.
“I’ve got this! We can do this!” Ocean insisted, with misplaced confidence.
“Ocean!” Constance’s voice rose with worry.
“Almost there...”
“Ocean!!”
“Connie, I—”
Constance, overwhelmed, seized Ocean’s shoulders, her voice a fervent whisper now. “OCEAN!!! THE CURTAIN!” The high-pitched urgency of Constance's words jolted Ocean from her focus and snapped her attention toward the glowing fabric. “What the?!” she gasped, her heart racing. “Sorry for yelling, but look!” Constance exclaimed, gesturing toward the curtain that seemed to pulse with life, its illumination casting eerie shadows across their faces. “This isn’t the same curtain Penny walked through…”
“No…” Noel’s voice wavered, a shiver tingling down his spine. “Is that the... afterlife?” Mischa took a cautious step backward, shoulders tensing as a wave of anxiety washed over him. Constance reached out, grasping his hand to soothe his nerves. “I-I... I don’t know…” She gulped, her own heart fluttering with uncertainty but reluctant to voice her fears.
Ocean, gathering her courage, stepped forward, extending her arms protectively in front of the others as the Karnack machine finally fell silent. “What is this?! Is this another one of your sick games?!” she shouted, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and anger, but the mechanical figure gave no response. Her fists tightened as she dropped her arms, her throat constricting in apprehension as she glanced nervously at her friends.
“Do we like… go in orrrr?” Noel finally ventured, voicing the question that loomed in everyone’s minds. Was this truly it—the afterlife? Or perhaps some sort of rebirth? What awaited them if they stepped through? Conversely, what would happen if they chose to stay behind?
Mischa rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “The machine said ‘would you like to’ when we were talking about Lamb… right?” Ocean turned sharply to him, her eyes wide, as Constance nodded in affirmation. “I-I think so…” Ricky’s gaze drifted to the curtain, an air of wonderment sparkling in his eyes. “Can we see Penny?” he asked almost eagerly. “Is that what this is? It wouldn’t make sense… We sort of saw her life! Right? After she was revealed…” Ocean stammered, her voice trembling. “Regardless of what this is, should we go through?” Constance suggested, stepping closer to Ocean, and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think… we should. We’ve already died, what’s left to lose?” Her smile shone brightly, a beacon of hope that eased some of Ocean’s fears.
“What about you guys?” Ocean turned to the rest of the group, seeking their opinions. “I don’t see why not,” Ricky chimed in, a hint of excitement creeping into his tone. “Eh, what else can we do?” Noel shrugged his casual demeanor a stark contrast to the tension in the air. “Let’s do this!!” Mischa exclaimed, enthusiasm radiating from him as he rallied the group.
“O-Okay…” As Ocean approached the portal, she hesitated, then swiftly grabbed Constance's hand. "If this is a second chance at life... I want you to go before me." Constance’s eyes sparkled with delight at Ocean’s suggestion. She giggled, “Why not us both?” and pulled Ocean forward.
“WHA-” Ocean’s surprised shout turned to laughter as they both hurtled together into the otherworldly portal.
Ricky didn’t hesitate; he darted after them, and Noel and Mischa were quick to follow.
A blinding light engulfed them, a heavy screech cutting through their minds like shards of glass.
Then, silence. They drifted through an endless void for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, an explosion of sound erupted around them—a terrifying chorus of a thousand piercing screams intermingled with the soft sounds of children’s laughter, all swirling chaotically. The cacophony grew louder, deafening.
And then, in an instant, the choir was cast into a whirlwind of blinding light and shadow.
“Hello, children,” a voice boomed—Karnack’s voice, now reverberating with an otherworldly authority.
“Welcome back temporarily. Hope you enjoy the show.”
Five gasps exploded forth, resonating within the chilling air. Snow painted the Canadian ground, each flake swirling gracefully through the icy atmosphere, kissing the dim holiday lights that twinkled in the winter sky. Rows of houses adorned with vibrant decorations illuminated the snowy landscape, bells ringing cheerfully in the distance.
Ocean gasped as Constance’s hand slipped from hers. Frantically, Constance scanned the familiar yet transformed scene, her heart racing as she found her friends. They appeared all around her, yet there was something eerily different about them; they were luminous, their forms glowing in a ghostly blue-white hue that seemed to slip through the fabric of their reality. “Ok…” Ocean managed to breathe out, her voice shaking as she counted her companions. “Everyone is… here! Umh…” She looked around, trying to grasp what had just unfolded.
Ocean scanned her surroundings, a sense of disorientation washing over her. "Where are we now...?" she murmured, her voice laced with confusion. Ricky approached her, his brow furrowed in sympathy. "Uranium... how cryptid," he replied with a hint of a smile, trying to lighten the moment. Ocean rolled her eyes, frustration bubbling within her. "Yes, but why are we... like this?!"
"Ghouls," Ricky interjected, his sudden appearance startling both of them. "Explain, Rickster." Mischa interjected.
Ricky took a breath, his voice steady as he explained, "We have transcended reality and become poltergeists. We were brought back as the undead." Ocean's jaw dropped in disbelief, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. Constance, ever the cheerleader of the group, raised her hands high and squealed, "WOO!" in response. "Oh greattt..." Noel added, his voice trailing off with evident exasperation.
"No! We can't be ghosts...!!" Panic surged through Ocean as she tugged at her apricot hair, a gesture of frustration mixed with dread. "Why are we back?! We are still dead!" Mischa cracked his knuckles, an unsettling sound that cut through the tension hanging in the air.
"...How do you do that if we are ghosts?" Ocean asked, her eyes wide.
"It got your attention, that is all. Ocean, we got new mad wicked forms," Ricky assured her, his tone lighter now. Ocean shot a skeptical look at her fellow choir members, her expression clearly conveying her disbelief. "I think it’s neat!!" Constance exclaimed, bubbling with excitement while Ocean sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, a gesture of resignation.
"Well, what now?" Noel tilted his head, the frustration evident in his voice. "Are we really ghosts? Because I have some people to get back." Ocean shook her head disapprovingly, her heart heavy with dread. "Why would you— no, not now..." An unsettling silence enveloped the group, contrasting sharply with the vibrant Christmas decorations adorning the area all around them.
"Ey Noel! Look! No-el!" Constance announced, pointing excitedly at a group of carolers nearby. Her pun brought a giggle from Mischa, but Noel merely groaned, a look of both annoyance and resignation crossing his face. "Every year... every. Damn. Year." Ocean's gaze fell sorrowfully upon the joyful families around them, each one singing and preparing for Christmas with carefree laughter, starkly highlighting their own haunting presence.
Amidst the laughter and banter of Constance, Mischa, and Noel, Ricky discreetly approached Ocean. "I know you're disappointed," he said gently, using sign language to keep their conversation private. Ocean sighed, a small frown crossing her face. "I'm not," she responded, though her demeanor suggested otherwise.
"You don't have to lie, Ocean. Karnack told us what happened. It'll be okay," Ricky said softly, his concern very evident. Ocean froze at his words, the gravity of their situation sinking in.
"I'm scared, Ricky," she confessed, her hands trembling slightly. "Honestly? Me too. But I know it'll work out," Ricky replied, lowering his head in thought.
"How do you know that?" she pressed, curiosity mingling with her distress. Ricky smiled, a warm, reassuring expression that seemed to illuminate the cold winter air. "If something doesn’t work now, it will eventually. Right? The universe has so many routes, one will work." Ocean felt a flicker of hope igniting within her, moved by his optimism.
"Ricky, can I ask you something?" she ventured cautiously. Ricky nodded, his eyes bright with encouragement.
"How are you so positive?" she inquired, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. Ricky stifled a chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm not, at least I think I am. But well, in a world full of hate and horror, why not try to add to the good? Make the world a bit nicer. And I’m not saying that just because of the holidays, though that does help my case!" He laughed at himself, prompting a nervous chuckle from Ocean as some tension eased from her shoulders.
"...You're the best space legend," Ocean remarked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There is no best, but thank you," Ricky replied with a modest grin.
"RICKY! OCEAN!" Mischa shouted, his voice breaking through their moment. They turned, hurriedly making their way to him. "What is it?" Ricky asked, intrigued. "Look! Glowing footprints in the snow!" Mischa exclaimed, pointing at the oddly luminescent trails marking the ground. They all followed Mischa’s gaze, but found no discernible source for the mysterious markings. How strange.
"...Huh," Noel muttered, his curiosity piqued as he looked further down the path. "Looks like they go for a bit. Come on."
"Wuh- wait, Noel!!" Ocean protested, but he was already moving forward. Ocean groaned, exasperated, but followed along anyway. "This will hopefully be fun?" Constance chirped, attempting to ease the tension, though her words fell flat.
As they continued to track the glowing footprints, the sights and sounds of their town decorated for Christmas surrounded them, each detail contrasting with their ethereal state.
After a seemingly endless trek, they halted near an old church, drawn in by the flickering lanterns and soft music wafting through the air. They cautiously peeked around a corner, eyes landing on two figures ahead.
One figure was shorter, draped in a dark cape, with long, curly brown hair that cascaded down her back. She appeared to be around fourteen, her demeanor tender yet determined. The other figure, taller and slightly chubby, sported a familiar and haunting set of brown French braids. The girl crouched down, her hands gentle as she tended to a small creature.
"Who is—" Ocean began, but Noel quickly hushed her, his urgent whisper cutting through the cold air. They strained to listen, recognizing a voice so familiar it sent shivers down their spines.
"Bandaid," the girl said, passing a bandaid to the girl as she insisted on having it. After some tender moments, the girl spoke once more, her voice soothing. "There you go, Mr. Birdy! I know it was just a light cut, but hopefully, this will aid you!" She carefully scooped up a small bird, cradling it delicately before placing it into a warm hay bale inside the mock manger.
"Beautiful..." Mischa whispered, awe painting his voice. As the girl turned, something heavy settled in the chests of the deceased choir members. The girl's neck bore a faint scar, her uniform and face unmistakable...
Penny Lamb.
"Is... I-Is that..." Constance stuttered, her voice trembling with unshakable emotion. Memories crashed over them in a tumultuous wave—each recollection sharp and painful.
Penny began speaking again, her expression a mixture of concern and frustration. "Ezra? Are you okay?" The younger boy, presumed to be Ezra, turned away, lost in a whirlwind of thought, whispers barely escaping his lips as he tried to anchor himself to the present, returning to a moment that felt years away. "You aren’t acting like yourself," Penny snapped slightly, her tone wavering between worry and annoyance.
Everyone stood in stunned confusion. "Who is that?" Constance began again, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them. "Ezra... Ezra Lamb? Penny's little bro," Mischa recalled, pieces of their past slowly fitting together in their minds, igniting a deep-seated sense of loss and longing.
"Neither are you," Ezra mumbled quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, making Penny's eyes widen in shock. "Is this because of the-- you know..." she gestured vaguely, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. Ezra simply shrugged a nonchalant gesture that belied the weight of his thoughts. "Eh, maybe. The worms in my brain tell me things," he replied cryptically. Penny nodded, trying to process what he meant. "Right! Yeah... come on, we must hurry back or we will be in trouble!"
Ezra let out a dramatic groan, rolling his eyes with exaggerated frustration. "They barely notice us and have seen us get arrested before. Why is anything different now? It wasn't that big of a deal, though," he remarked, his words met with a puzzled silence from the choir. They exchanged glances, their confusion palpable. They didn’t know much about Penny; not every memory of her flooded back, but learning that their sweet yet haunting Jane Doe had been arrested was a revelation that left them grappling for answers. For what crime?
"It was drug smuggling, Ezra..."
The realization hit like a brick wall. Laughter erupted from Mischa, a roaring sound that seemed to bounce off in the air. Noel and Constance struggled to contain their snickers, each muffled laugh barely escaping. Ocean’s jaw dropped, her astonishment evident. "DRUGS?! WH-WHAT HAD THEY DONE SINCE—DRUGS?!" she exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Aren't your parents hippies, Ocean?" Ricky interjected casually, glancing over with a raised eyebrow. Ocean, visibly flustered, bit her lip and turned her gaze away, a hint of guilt flashing across her face. "Yeah but!!—"
"Shh! They're speaking!" Noel snapped, cutting Ocean off, urgency lacing his tone.
With a playful gravity, Ezra replied, "We were merchants on a quest." The tension broke slightly, but Penny remained focused, her excitement bubbling to the surface. "Yeah, yeah... anyways, it's Christmas Eve, Ezra!! We need to hurry!" She jumped up, her hands flapping in animated enthusiasm. Ezra pulled out a whimsical sock puppet, its googly eyes staring blankly. "We are very naughty! How naughty naughty we are! Yes, yes!" he mocked in a high-pitched, flamboyant voice, swirling the puppet as if it were the main character of a play.
"But! I believe we can still have a fantastic Christmas! And—" Penny paused, her words trailing off as she noticed Ezra’s usual hyperactive demeanor had dimmed, replaced by an all-too-familiar anxiety that lingered just below the surface.
"Awe... he's sad," Constance remarked softly, her empathy shining through. "TRY PLAYING ABBA!" she shouted suddenly, startling the others. "Constance!" Ocean protested, her eyes wide as she glanced around apprehensively. "What??" "What if they notice us?!" Ocean added, her voice thick with concern. Constance shrugged dismissively. "So? ABBA calms my brother down! And besides, we shouldn't hide! Even if they can't see us!" Mischa rolled his eyes dramatically. "ESPECIALLY since they can't see us..." He sounded exasperated, his sarcasm hanging in the air as they exchanged knowing looks.
Penny sighed deeply, her heart heavy. "...Wanna get some hotdogs at 7/11?" she offered softly, glancing at Ezra, still lost in his thoughts. He looked up, his expression shifting as he nodded. "Sure, why not?"
As they began to wander off, Ricky pointed with widening eyes. "Guys! They're leaving!" The choir froze in place. "Should we... follow them?" Ocean suggested hesitantly, casting a look around as if weighing their options. "I mean. I guess?" Noel added cautiously, the uncertainty of the situation weighing on them. Constance frowned, her brow furrowing. "Maybe we could also see our families..." she proposed. Noel shook his head sharply. "No, Constance, you know you'll get all sad. It's best to just... not."
Ricky turned his gaze downward, a solemn expression crossing his face as memories of his beloved cats danced through his mind like fleeting shadows. Mischa scoffed, his bitterness evident as he lamented having nobody to return home to. Ocean remained silent, her thoughts brewing beneath the surface, but when Mischa suddenly slapped her back, it broke her contemplation.
"OW!!!"
"Let's get that lamb, yeah?" Mischa shouted as he raced ahead, leaving Ocean rubbing her back with a look of betrayal. "THAT HURT!" she shouted after him, clearly exasperated. "You can't feel anything, Ocean," Noel stated matter-of-factly, his voice steady and calm, as if reciting a lesson learned long ago.
The choir began to trail after the lamb siblings, settling outside the 7/11, their presence unnoticed as Penny and Ezra stood with hotdogs in hand. Penny’s gaze was fixed on Ezra, her concern evident as she sensed the heaviness in his demeanor. "Gah, can't swipe the dogs," Mischa chuckled from his hidden spot nearby, his laughter echoing in the eerie stillness.
"This is so... SO weird..." Ocean murmured, running her fingers through her hair as she tried to wrap her mind around the surreal situation. "To be fair, we have seen a sentient fortune-telling machine be essentially god!" Ricky exclaimed with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood. A sudden silence enveloped the group, leaving them to contemplate his words.
"So, how's the hotdog?" Penny asked, glancing over at Ezra, who was meticulously peeling the skin off his food. "Ezra?" she prompted, curiosity in her voice. Ezra looked up, his face a mixture of eagerness and mischief. "Skinless dog, want a bite?" he offered, but Penny shook her head softly, replying with a gentle "No thanks," as he took a large bite. Finally, the dam broke. "I thought you were dead, honestly," Ezra blurted out, his vulnerability cutting through the casual veneer. Penny felt a pang in her core, her heart clenching tightly. "Oh, from the—" "Yeah, the roller coaster disaster. That," he finished, his eyes darkening with the weight of the memory.
The choir members exchanged worried glances, their hearts heavy with shared grief. "Poor squirt..." Mischa murmured somberly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Don't be sad, Ezra! I mean... I’m here now! Right—" Penny started, her voice faltering as reality set in. "What about your friends? Or choir people?" he pressed gently but with an edge of desperation. Penny’s voice faltered as she slowly lowered her hotdog, struggling to find the words.
"Well... um. They're..." she trailed off, gazing away as the painful truth began to suffocate her. She was the only survivor of the disaster, and the memory washed over her like icy water, draining the color from her cheeks that the cold had painted with a faint rosy red
The choir members looked at one another, a shared understanding passing silently among them. Ricky reached out, attempting to hold Penny’s hand, but his ghostly touch simply phased through her. Still, he persevered, trying to convey warmth and comfort despite the futility. "Ricky... you know that's not going to work, right...?" Noel whispered empathetically, his voice barely above a murmur. Ricky didn’t respond; instead, he offered only a weak smile as tears brimmed in his eyes, a silent wish that he could connect with her, if only for a moment.
Penny huffed, frustrated, her hand transforming into a fist as she shivered involuntarily. "D-Did it just get super cold in here, or is it just me?!" she stammered, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. "It's Christmas tomorrow after all! Why aren't we celebrating?! It's a perfect Christmas!" Penny stood up abruptly, her words coming out in a frenzied rush, mania creeping into her voice as she struggled against the despair that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Umh..." Noel scratched the back of his head in confusion, unsure how to navigate her sudden shift in mood. "Yeah, all my friends are dead, and I'm alone again, but who cares, right?!" she shouted, her voice teetering between hysteria and hopelessness. Ocean glanced at the others, searching for guidance, worry etched on her face. Constance lowered her head, her heart aching as she felt a pang of understanding for Penny's lament.
"Do you want to see the lights, Penny?" Ezra suggested, his voice softer now, extending a tentative lifeline. The mention of lights seemed to pierce through the fog of despair, and Penny's momentary calmness betrayed the inner turmoil that remained just beneath the surface. "Lights?..." she echoed, her voice trembling with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. Ezra took her wrist gently, his grip steady and reassuring. "The block has pretty lights. Want to see?"
Despite Ezra's monotone voice and his perpetually blank expression, an undeniable warmth radiated from him towards Penny, a tenderness that transcended words. Ocean, glancing at Constance, noticed her lip quivering slightly, a sign of her inner turmoil. "Maybe we can see the lights too, Connie?" Ocean suggested, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and anxiety.
"Huh?" Constance blinked, momentarily lost in thought.
"The lights, Connie. You’ve always loved walking around to look at them—especially the pink ones," Ocean continued, a small smile flickering across her face. At the mention of the pink lights, Constance's eyes lit up, shimmering with excitement as her mouth curled into a slight smile. "Sure! Maybe it can be like we’re all hanging out for once…" she said, her tone brightening with the prospect.
Mischa, with his hands pressed together in contemplation, interjected, "Light watching, huh?" "What? Too macho for watching lights?" Noel shot back, her eyes narrowing playfully.
"There are no limits for strong men like me. We enjoy watching the lights too," Mischa replied, feigning a serious demeanor but unable to hide the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Noel, leaning against a nearby tree, seemed indifferent, his boredom apparent as he shrugged but ultimately followed along with the others. As they moved away, Ezra gently guided a slightly distressed Penny, holding her hand through the puppet he controlled with delicate precision, ensuring she felt safe amidst the bustling group that followed closely behind.
The night sky stretched above them, enveloped in total darkness, save for the faint outlines of clouds that loomed like silent sentinels. With each step, the snow crunched beneath the lamb siblings' boots, the ground a patchy blend of clumps and muddy earth. Their breaths escaped in soft puffs of mist, swirling briefly before disappearing into the chilly air as they began their trek, excitement mingling with trepidation in the enveloping night.
Ezra paused in front of a house extravagantly adorned with twinkling tea lights, colorful stickers, and an assortment of other whimsical decorations. The vibrant lights flashed in a dizzying array of colors, creating a spectacle that caused Penny to wince with discomfort. "Sheesh! Can you imagine the electric bills for this?" Ocean exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. Constance stood mesmerized, her eyes wide with awe at the chaotic display. "I think it's beautiful," she said, captivated by the colors, while Noel squinted, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to adjust to the dazzling sight. "I’d agree if it didn’t resemble a horrific sore that assaults the senses..." Penny muttered, and with a discreet nod, he began guiding a slightly distressed Penny away from the gaudy spectacle.
As they strolled further down the road, a sudden stillness enveloped Ricky, who had come to a halt. Constance and Noel exchanged puzzled glances before parting from the group to follow Ricky’s gaze. "Ricky? What are you—" Constance began, only to peer up and see what had caught his attention at his own home. Ricky's house stood in stark contrast to the others, minimally decorated, except for a tiny cat nestled on the porch. Ricky's brow furrowed. "Isn't that your home?" Noel asked, and Ricky nodded solemnly, his expression clouded with melancholy. Constance and Noel shared a knowing look. "I really miss my cats... I try not to, but it’s... tough," Ricky admitted softly as he moved closer to the porch, gently lowering himself to sit beside the little kitty, which shivered under his touch as he reached out to pet it, only to feel it flinch away.
Noel approached, settling beside Ricky, while Constance stood a bit further away, her heart heavy with empathy. "You know, they say cats can see—or at least sense—ghosts," Noel remarked, attempting to lighten the mood. Ricky let out a forced laugh, his sadness evident. "I’ve heard that too, as part of some folklore, but it doesn’t feel real to me," he replied, the weight of his sorrow creeping back. "Sorry, I just—"
"No," Constance interjected, stepping closer. "It’s perfectly okay to be upset. You know that, right? Even if we’re here for Penny, you matter too," she reassured, nervously fiddling with her bracelet. "I know things weren’t the... brightest when we were all alive, but we’re here for you and everyone else." Noel leaned back, adding, "Yeah. I mean, if we’re all going to be ghosts, then we may as well be rockstars about it." Ricky glanced at Noel, who was struggling to find the right words to provide comfort. "Okay, look, I'm terrible at this comforting thing, but—" Ricky was cut off by Noel's playful interruption. "Hey! We have an eternity to work on it!" Noel smiled, and Ricky looked back at the cold cat, an idea bubbling up within him.
Meanwhile, Penny was frolicking around, joyfully pointing at the chaotic lights that adorned the houses. "That’s the 53rd broken light so far!" she exclaimed, counting with glee. The others had begun counting the number of malfunctioning lights, though Ezra seemed lost in his own world, distractedly counting his steps in silence. As this merriment continued, Ocean and Mischa were busy searching for the rest of the choir. “How do they just vanish like that?!” Ocean exclaimed, her voice a mixture of frustration and confusion. Mischa maintained an oddly calm demeanor. “We are ghosts, you know. It’s in the name, orphan a-hole.”
“I AM NOT—” Ocean began, but Mischa couldn’t hold back a smirk, finding joy in her exasperation. Ocean halted and pointed an accusing finger at him. “I am not going to fall for your tricks, mister!” she declared defiantly, crossing her arms and huffing as she turned her back on him.
“Oh really?” Mischa teased, his tone laced with playful sarcasm. “At least that keeps you quiet.” Ocean’s eyes flickered as she caught sight of Penny, who was desperately trying to stop Ezra from pelting snowballs at a nearby house. “E-Ezra!! Let’s not do that!” she called, her voice high with panic.
Ezra turned slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “But this was one of the girls who threw snowballs at me first!” he replied cheekily. Penny blinked and quickly covered her eyes. “Don’t throw the snowballs! I better not see you do that!” she warned.
Ezra, undeterred, chuckled and flung the snowballs with gleeful abandon. "If they wanted more damage, they'd better put rocks inside," Mischa commented, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets while watching the antics unfold. Ocean looked away, her expression oddly solemn.
“Mischa, did you ever celebrate Christmas...?” she asked hesitantly. Mischa turned to her, his brow quirked in thoughtful contemplation. “No. I celebrate warmth, not the capitalism that pressures the lower class to buy useless items to feel better while shaming those who don't comply,” he replied matter-of-factly. Ocean blinked in surprise. “...So that’s a ‘no’…?” she clarified, and Mischa nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you?” he inquired, his curiosity piqued. Ocean sighed as Penny gleefully joined in, throwing snowballs and losing herself in the playful chaos. “Not really... I just... slept through it usually. Or helped Father Markus prepare for our caroling,” she admitted, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Agh! I hate that! Nobody wanted to hear us screech at midnight,” Mischa remarked, rolling his eyes.
“Well, we might have been the only highlight of their Christmas,” Ocean countered, a playful smile breaking through her previous melancholy. A brief silence fell between them before Mischa stunned Ocean with a surprisingly heartfelt statement. “You and the others are the light of my Christmas,” he said, and Ocean nearly gasped, her jaw dropping in disbelief.
Just then, Constance’s voice rang out, breaking the tension. “Ocean! Mischa! We’re back!” A swift movement caught their attention as a cat darted past them. “Aww, hi kitty…” Ocean cooed softly as the cat paused to gaze at her, its eyes reflecting an eerie awareness. Ricky noticed the feline and guided it toward Penny, where it promptly brushed against her legs.
Penny gasped, joy suffusing her features. “Ezra! Look!” she exclaimed, scooping up the small creature into her arms, excitement bubbling over. Just then, a loud crash echoed as Ezra accidentally shattered a nearby window. “Oh, lord,” Noel laughed, shaking his head in bemusement. “SPLIT!” Penny shouted, her voice rising in panic as the siblings sprinted away, the choir quickly following in a flurry of laughter and fright.
After a chaotic chase, Penny and Ezra finally found a moment to catch their breath. Laughter spilled from Penny's lips as she nervously pet the cat clinging to her for dear life. “Ezra! Did you put a rock inside that snowball?!” she queried sternly, her eyes wide with a mix of mischief and exasperation. Ezra shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe.”
Mischa clapped his hands together in amusement. “Oh gosh, oh gosh, we’re going to be in so much trouble…” Penny fretted, but the cat, sensing her distress, brushed its soft fur against her cheek, offering a moment of comfort. “They didn’t see us," Ezra assured, though the thrill of their antics still pulsed in the air around them.
"But what if they did?!"
"Penny." Ezra tugged the cloth of Penny's pearly blouse.
"Oh god, I don't want to go to prison again!!"
"Penny."
"I mean she deserved it but also... oh man... will Mr. Meow Meow be homeless now?!"
"Penny."
"Yes I'm keeping-"
Ezra lunged a snowball at her face.
"Huh?!—” Penny gasped, her eyes wide with astonishment as the choir around her echoed her surprise. In the center of the town square stood a tree—but not just any tree. Illuminated by a few flickering lights, it was meant to be a symbol of Christmas cheer, yet instead, it was a dismal sight. The tree was short, crooked, and brown, its once-luscious needles long gone, leaving behind only brittle branches. The star that should have gleamed atop the tree lay shattered on the ground, having succumbed to neglect.
“Yeah, seems about right…” Noel muttered under his breath, a hint of disappointment lacing his voice. However, Penny, filled with an unexpected spark of optimism, stepped forward. Cradling a small cat in her arms, she crouched down and gently laid her fingers against the frail pine.
“They should add socks,” Ezra quipped from the side, trying to lighten the mood with a playful suggestion. Penny, ever the imaginative spirit, picked up a pinecone and placed it gently on the tree. “There!” she declared, looking up at Ezra, who gave her a thumbs up in return.
“I miss decorating the tree,” Constance sighed, rubbing her arm as if the chill in the air had seeped into her spirit. Ocean, sensing her friend’s sorrow, took Constance’s hand, providing a small measure of comfort. Together, they gazed at the pitiful tree, each feeling a mix of sadness and nostalgia.
Suddenly, a booming voice disrupted the solemn silence. “Enjoying your time?” The choir turned in unison, startled to discover the source of Karnack’s resounding voice. “The robo is here?” Mischa questioned, eyebrows raised in surprise. Karnack’s voice echoed again, “You all have an hour and a half. Once it becomes Christmas, you’ll have to say goodbye.”
“That is wack, yo…” Mischa replied, a tinge of exhaustion creeping into his voice as Penny took a (somehow) tired Ezra by the hand.
“W-We can’t just leave her…” Constance pleaded, her worry creeping into her expression as the other choir members rallied behind her.
“Yes, but I’m afraid you have no choice. I will give you time,” Karnack’s voice faded, leaving a lingering echo as the group followed Penny and Ezra toward a nearby house. Upon entering, the atmosphere felt heavy, as if the walls themselves were steeped in sorrow. Ezra wandered to his room, collapsing onto his bed without bothering to change out of his clothes. Meanwhile, Penny slipped away only to return moments later clad in cozy pajamas. She glanced at a photo of the choir perched on a table nearby and, with a sigh, lowering it to be hidden..
Outside the room, the remaining choir members exchanged worried glances.
“We can’t just leave nothing behind. She misses us,” Noel started, urgency creeping into his tone.
“Yeah! And no presents either?” Constance chimed in, her voice tinged with dismay.
“Penny seems depressed as hell,” Mischa remarked, a frown marring her brow. Ricky absentmindedly stroked the small cat that Penny had secretly brought along.
“Hopefully she’ll take good care of this little one…” he mused.
“W-We can’t just... leave without giving her something!” Ocean insisted, pacing nervously. “I wish we could just say at least one word to her, you know?” As the choir wrestled with their dilemma, Noel peered into the room to find Penny frowning as she gazed at the picture. Inspiration sparked within him.
The sun rose slowly over the frost-kissed landscape, casting soft pink hues against the winter sky. Penny awoke with a yawn, feeling the warmth of the cat nestled in her lap. Ezra had already left to sell his medicinal wares, but she forced herself to remain optimistic as she stroked the soft fur of her feline companion. “I know I shouldn’t have brought you, but… it was freezing out!” she whispered to the cat, who leaped down and wandered to a nearby desk.
Curiosity piqued, Penny followed, her heart skipping a beat when she spotted a crumpled piece of paper clutched in the cat’s mouth. Intrigued, she carefully extracted the paper and began to read.
Inside, a patchwork of handwritings and colors shouted a simple yet heartfelt message: “Merry Christmas Penny! You’re making us proud.” Signed by Ocean, Noel, Mischa, Ricky, and Constance. Her heart swelled, and tears welled up in her eyes. Clutching the note to her chest, a smile broke through her sorrow as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. With a newfound determination, she wiped her tears away, steeling herself for what she had to do next.
Later that day, Penny strolled down a cracked, weathered road, her kitty friend trailing closely behind. She carried a bouquet of handmade flowers, vibrant and colorful against the drab ambiance. Her path led her to a serene cemetery where a gentle hush enveloped her. After scanning the rows of headstones, she found the five graves lined up peacefully, some adorned with flowers while others lay bare, unadorned.
“Hey guys, umh… look what I got you!” she murmured softly.
One by one, she knelt down and planted the flowers she had so lovingly crafted.
A bright gladiolus for Ocean.
A delicate rose for Noe.
A cheerful sunflower for Mischa.
A pure white poppy for Ricky.
And an echinacea for Constance.
Stepping back, she admired her handiwork, her heart swelling with affection. “Merry Christmas, guys. I promise I’ll hold the best party when I see you all again,” she vowed quietly to the wind as it brushed against her, carrying with it the echoes of her laughter and memories shared. The moment was bittersweet, a quiet tribute to all she had lost. After whispering her final words to the graves, Penny smiled softly and turned to leave.
“Let’s go, Savannah.”