Audio available here: https://youtu.be/KMnv6smRlTw
**CONTENT WARNING – Scenes of violence and drug use/abuse; inferred child abuse**
Yellow lights flickered and flashed through the window, making her left eye twitch. Music flowed up through the bare floorboards. The old man downstairs was once more blasting out Jingle Bell Rock. She wondered if she’d still be awake when Slade kicked in.
She tightened the belt, the buckle pinching at her skin. Tighter still, until the vein in her arm stood proud and blue, pulsing like a beacon. With her teeth, she removed the cap from the tip of the hypodermic needle. One deep sigh, like the therapist had taught her. The cold of the needle pressed against the vein. She pushed, piercing the skin. The grey of the needle blending with the blue of her blood. One more deep sigh. She pressed her thumb down on the plunger, watching as the murky, earthy brown liquid flowed into her vein.
She felt her spine relax, her neck loosen, her shoulders droop. Her fingers tingled, she couldn’t press any more, but the syringe was still half full. She smiled, maybe save for later, she thought, letting the piss-drenched mattress take her weight as she fell backwards.
The ceiling moved. She stared at it as it flickered and swayed, moved further away. Or was it the floor. Was she sinking? She felt invisible claws pulling at every limb, sucking her down, into the mattress.
Geoff stood next to the hole, leaning on his shovel. On the other side, Frank was still shovelling dirt into the nearly-full hole. Silence, but for the sound of dirt hitting dirt, and the occasional grunt. Geoff sighed and gazed at the horizon. The sun was already setting, the sky a grey haze. Lights from the church sparkled nearby.
“Best hurry up mate. Getting dark, and the missus wants me home before my folks rock up.”
Frank paused and looked at Geoff.
“Maybe help me then eh. Might get done a bit quicker if you do a bit less star-gazing and a bit more grave-digging.”
Geoff chuckled. “Sorry mate, you’re right. Backs killing me. These cold nights, I’m feeling them these days, I can tell yer.”
Frank grunted in solidarity.
Between them, they finally finished filling the grave. Geoff gave the fresh dirt mound a satisfied pat with the back of his shovel.
“Such a waste. I heard this one’s only a kid still. Eighteen, nineteen? Somethin’ like that. And no-one to see them off. I don’t know, makes yer wonder what the world’s comin’ to,” said Geoff.
Frank nodded, solemn flat-lips. They both stood for a moment, gazing down at the grave, with their woolly caps removed. It didn’t matter how long they’d been doing this job, every unknown deserved a minute’s silence, a minute’s thought.
The area for unmarked graves was set to one side of the main cemetery. Trees bordered it like a horseshoe. Not far from the gravediggers, several people were huddled around one man. He was taking slips of paper from the raucous crowd.
“Alright, alright,” he shouted, waving his arms to calm them. “We’ve still got time. Duna panic.”
A woman pushed her way to the front. “Reg, Reg, look! The diggers are already leaving. Never seen them bury one so fast!”
Reg nodded to the woman. Together they raised their hands and called the crowd to order.
“Betting over everyone. Time to get the show on the road.”
The crowd, well versed in this, made a gap for the two to walk through.
Frank and Geoff, shovels in hand, turned away from the grave and started walking towards the church. Reg glided past them and stared, intently, at the fresh grave. Behind him, Bess, Maisy, Joan and Bert followed. They each took a spot at the side of the grave and gazed down, heads half-cocked, silent for several minutes.
The night had finally taken over the sky, grey was now almost black. In the distance they heard a car engine start. Reg, stood behind where the head of the body would be, turned to the others.
“Ready?”
They all nodded and Reg cleared his throat as the others began to dance, their chests shimmying and their feet bouncing on the spot.
“Every limbo John and Jane
All around the limbo plane
Gonna do the limbo jive
We’re neither dead, nor alive
John be limbo, Jane be quick
Yer must become the limbo stick
This is the limbo life
So, let’s do the limbo jive”
As they danced on the spot, all singing, the wind began to rise, a noisy wail. A grey mist rose from the fresh earth and the ground began to shudder and judder.
“First you spread your limbo feet
Then you move to t’limbo beat
Limbo ankle limbo knee
Rise up like a limbo tree
John be limbo, Jane be quick
Yer must become the limbo stick
Gonna do the limbo jive
Cuz we’re not dead, or alive.”
At the sound of the final “alive” the centre of the grave emitted a funnel of grey light. The mist that coated the grave dissipated, leaving a pale, almost translucent woman, seemingly asleep. They gazed down at her and then cheered.
“We have a Jane! Excellent, we were getting a bit top heavy with the John’s if you ask me.”
The woman opened her eyes and blinked. Although cloudy, stars still sparkled and left spots in her eyes. Five strange, semi-translucent people were looking down at her. She lifted her head, which felt stiff and tender, and looked around.
Bess held her hand out to the woman, offering to help her up.
“Don’t worry, my dear. It’s perfectly normal to feel a tad out of sorts when you first wake.” She smiled at the Jane, who now stood and turned all around, trying to figure out where she was. Five strange people, dressed in Victorian clothing, beamed at her. Beyond her were mounds of earth, the odd tumbled-down tombstone and bare trees. She looked down the hill at the church below. Lit up, music was starting to float up to them. Christmas hymns, or carols. She didn’t know the difference and right now she really didn’t care.
The last thing she remembered was the pinch of the belt buckle as it nipped at her scrawny bicep. And the sound of Noddy Holder maybe.
“Where am I?” she asked.
Reg smiled. “This, my dear woman, is Limbo!”
She frowned. “Limbo?”
Bess patted her gently on the shoulder.
“Limbo, my dear. It’s where we go if Hades isn’t ready for us, or if you’ve left some unfinished business. Can’t be getting on the boat with baggage.”
Reg stepped forward. “Can you remember your name, dear?”
She paused, thinking. Her mind was hazy, no name came to her.
“Not to worry, not to worry. We’ll call you Jane for now. Takes time for some. All depends how you died, really. Nice clean death, memory is clear as day. Messy, intoxicated death, or a nasty head trauma? Well, then, you’re in for a bit of a wait, I’m afraid… Can you remember what happened? That might help you.”
“Yes, I was… nothing… no, no I don’t remember.”
Behind her, Maisy and Joan chuckled.
“Told you. Extra turkey for me tomorrow!” Maisy nodded, smugly.
“Aye, well, you were due a win,” exclaimed Joan.
“No need to be ashamed around us, love,” said Maisy. “We see all sorts in this line of business. You won’t be the worst, I’m sure of that!”
Jane turned her focus onto Maisy and Joan.
“Now what was it? Heroin? Or meth?” Maisy asked baldly.
Jane bowed her head. “Heroin. I think. At least, that’s what I paid for.”
“Mhm. Well not to worry. Worry delays the memory. We’re not here to judge. Only to help you onto the boat, once you’re ready.”
Jane woke under the bridge. The canal flowed, quietly, alongside her. The ground was wet and covered in white smears of geese shit. Despite a low-hanging early-morning mist, she could see a barge, moored in the distance. The shadow of a man leaning over the edge of the barge caught her attention.
She still felt foggy and fuzzy-headed. Like she’d just woken from a nasty bender. This canal felt familiar. She couldn’t place it, but the pit of her stomach was kicking her, nudging her. She stood and slowly made her way towards the barge.
As she drew closer she could hear sounds coming from inside the boat. Music. She recognised the strains.
“Does he turn up on a sleigh / Do the faeries keep him sober for a day.”
Goosebumps rose up on her arms and belly, the hairs on her neck raised, like hackles. The man was calling in through the cabin door. Jane could hear laughter from within, cutting over the music. Familiar laughter.
She realised she was stood right next to the man. He was oblivious to her. The scent of petroleum jelly and engine oil filled her senses. His beard twitched, as he laughed at something the person had said. Something the girl had said.
Jane stepped, lightly, over the edge of the barge and entered the cabin.
She was older now. Kids age quickly. She must be about ten… Jessie… Her little sister… Jessie. Sat, unwrapping a present, under dad’s duvet while Slade sang from the radio.
She stepped back onto the deck. He was at the prow, untying the rope from its mooring. It probably wouldn’t work. No-one had explained the limbo rules yet. Bess was going to explain it all over the turkey, later.
She stepped towards him, felt blood pounding through her, despite being just a spirit of Sophie… Sophie.
As she laid her hands on his chest, she roared with rage and pushed. His arms flailed, feet slipping on the wet, muddy verge. With a deep, booming crack, his head hit the metal mooring. His body flopped, too close to the edge. Sophie watched as he toppled over the edge, into the ice cold, black water. From within the cabin, she heard Noddy singing.
“Look to the future now / It’s only just begun.”
*****
Copyright © 2020 Hannah Edge. All rights reserved.
Image by Hannah Edge, location – Burslem cemetery, Stoke-on-Trent
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