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Sunlight streamed through the windows in golden, slanted beams to fall across the gleaming hardwood floor. A few brave leaves still clung to the odd branch, but the shadows cast on the floor where a network of veins. Bustifur, ever the opportunist, did not allow this to hinder him in his sunbathing. He had simply looked to find a beam of light that was free of shadow and thrown himself in it. He now lay sprawled in the middle of one such beam, and even as Kess watched he stretched out his legs, yawned hugely, and then went limp again. Kess shook her head and went back to applying furniture polish to the desk.
It was one of the odd days where she found herself alone in the house with Bustifur, and a program of intense cleaning was her way of trying not to think about it. Jack’s arrival, and decision to stay, had seemed to change life over night and when he was gone the house felt empty. It never was, and she knew there were always the odd fae somewhere near at hand, guest or not, but it wasn’t the same. Today was doubly odd because Jack wasn’t in town on a grocery run or errands for the guesthouse. He was attending a funeral.
The call had come three days ago, a friend had had a death in the family and Jack being Jack felt it was necessary to pay his respects. He had already been to the funeral home and his trip to the funeral today was more to support his friend than his relationship to the deceased. Kess had asked him about the woman, how he had known her and Jack had replied he had mown her lawn once. “She was a sweet old girl,” he said simply. “Made me cookies.”
So now he was gone to support his friends and pay his respects to the sweet cookie baker, and she was here with a sunbathing Bustifur. It made her anxious.
“He’s coming back, you know,” Busitfur purred lazily, flicking the tip of his tail. “If he hasn’t left by now, after the incident with our friend - ” Kess cringed as the air tingled expectantly. “ – he’s never going to. So relax.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kess said haughtily.
“Oh? And I suppose you’re trying to life the finish on the desk intentionally?” Kess looked down at the desk as Bustifur made a noise behind her. She wasn’t sure if it was a sneeze, a snort, or some kind of special cat combination of the two. She knew, however, that it meant he was laughing at her.
She was denied the opportunity to snark back at him by the sound of wheels in the driveway. Bustifur’s head popped up, his ears forward as both he and Kess turned to watch the door. The vehicle crunched to halt on the gravel drive and a door was snapped shut smartly. Jack walked casually up the stairs and pulled open the door, hesitating once he registered the intent gazes upon him. Slowly, slightly worried that sudden movement might trigger something disastrous, he closed the door and removed and hung his jacket.
“Don’t tell me,” he said finally. “I inadvertently picked up a Grim when I was at the cemetery, didn’t I?”
“What?” said Kess, shaking her head as her mind reconnected with the track. “Don’t be so silly! Grim’s only ever attatch themselves to people who are about to die.”
“How are you felling?” smirked Bustifur.
Jack ignored the dig and began to loosen his tie, quickly unfastening the top two buttons of his shirt before starting on the buttons on his shirt cuffs. Kess gathered up her rag and can of Pledge and followed as Jack walked out back to the kitchen and filled the kettle.
“How was it?” she asked gently.
“Sad,” Jack said simply. “Marnie’s pretty upset, but she was glad I was there. It was a nice service, and the Women’s League put on a nice lunch. Cemetery was cold as hell, though – that wind is bitter.” Kess nodded and put both rag and can in the cupboard under the sink.
“At least there was no rain or snow,” Jack added, by way of finding the bright side.
There was a drawn out moment of awkward silence. “Want me to make he tea while you go get changed?” Kess asked.
“Yes,” Jack almost sagged with relief. He hated suits.
Kess opened a cupboard and took down mugs as Jack walked past her to go to his room in the basement. As he did so, he absently put out a hand to steady her as he squeezed past, and it lightly brushed against her hip. Kess froze and Jack blushed, mumbling something Kess took to be an apology before hurrying out of the kitchen. Kess ignored it and continued making tea. It was steaming in the mugs when Jack came back upstairs wearing a t-shirt and jeans.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as he lifted the mug to his lips and sipped it. “By the way, you’re looking good. The Piskies still making off with your bras?”
“No, we’ve reached an agreement and they’re staying away from them now.”
Jack smirked. “You’ve got nails in your underwear drawer, don’t you?”
“Yup,” Kess replied flatly.
Jack couldn’t help but laugh. Part of the agreement Kess had entered into when she took over the guesthouse was that there was to be no iron user anywhere in the house. She cooked from copper pots, they ate with real silver utensils every day, and things like televisions and computers needed to be “improved” by Wayland before they could come into the house. Kess made a real point of keeping the house and property faerie friendly, but even she had limits. She kept a hidden stock of small iron nails tucked away at the back of one of her desk drawers. Jack had found it one day by accident when Mad Mag had been gabbling at him, shrieking something about the desk. Jack just wasn’t sure if Kess had moved the entire bag, or had simply taken half a dozen and scattered them on top of her clean laundry.
“What’s the plan for today?” he asked her after a few sips of tea.
“No plan, really. I’ve been giving Mag and the crew a hand cleaning. You’ve already got the yard cleaned up and ready for winter and the wood’s been hauled. We get to relax, unless there are a few stray Seelie’s kicking around. Winter’s usually a pretty quiet season until early February.”
Jack frowned for a minute. “Imbolc?”
“Bingo.”
Jack nodded. It made sense, now that he thought about it – the wheel of the year had made it’s turn and they were now in the dark half. The Unseelie faeries were unwelcomed visitors, and the Seelie would be well to ground now that the power shift had been completed. He’d noticed a steady decline in business over the past three weeks since Halloween. Even the Wild Hunt seemed to be hunting elsewhere these days. That left them with other alternatives.
“TV day?” he asked as he finished his tea.
Kess nodded. “TV day.”
TV days were rare. There was usually enough to do around the house and property that both Kess and Jack were kept busy. Kess had lately taken to keeping herself busy by running in the mornings, now evidently without the incentive of retrieving undergarments from the Piskies. When things were slow, however, Kess would break out the snacks and they would both settle into the comfortable parlor to let their minds go numb. It was going to be daytime, weekday TV so they both knew it was going to be deliciously horrible.
Kess set bowls of chips and popcorn on the table in the parlor, and Jack carried in a six pack. Throwing himself in a chair, he cracked open a can as Kess turned on the modified television set. It flickered, but slowly a grainy picture began to form. It gestures crudely at them. Kess got up with a sigh and banged on the side of the set. “Get out of there, you little bastards!”
Her shout was met by giggles, and slowly Piskies began to appear around the room, their black almond shaped eyes gleaming mischievously. The picture on the television also improved. As the Piskies chattered and made themselves comfortable, and helped themselves to the assorted sweets and crunchies, Bustifur padded into the room and gave it all a disapproving study.
“Bring the cat treats?” he asked haughtily. Kess shook the bag. “Good.” The cat gracefully leapt onto the couch beside her, turned in a circle, and lay down with his tail primly wrapped around his paws.
Kess absently flicked through channels. It was a Wednesday, so there was even less on than usual. She finally settled on what seemed to be a thirty year old documentary on rural life on one of the Celtic Isles. She really wasn’t sure which one, and it really didn’t matter. The accents were so thick there were subtitles, the picture was grainy, and the Piskies were beside themselves with delight.
“Ooooo… Wassatwassatwassatwassat?” chirped one of the Piskies. Kess unglued an eye, not having realized she had fallen asleep.
The scene on the television was of a crowded room. There was music and drink flowed freely. There was revelry, there was mourning, and in the center of it all there was a corpse. Kess smiled at what appeared to be a good old fashioned wake.
“Funeral,” she said simply. “The way they used to do them a long time ago, right Jack?”
“All that’s missing is for someone to be dancing with the corpse or have it propped up at the card table,” he agreed after a drink of beer. “They just don’t do a send off like they used to.”
The Piskies watched with renewed interest until the program was over and Kess changed the channel to Jerry Springer. It was her philosophy that every instance of learning required something to counter balance it. Half naked white trash pounding on one another seemed just the ticket. Bustifur reached out with a paw to gently bat the bag of cat treats until Kess sprinkled half a dozen on the couch cushion for him. One by one, the Piskies seemed to disappear, and they did it so well that Kess hadn’t noticed they were gone until the utter silence of the room registered.
“Where’d they go?”
Jack quirked a brow and shrugged, eloquently indicating that he’d be buggered if he knew where they went, but that he also wasn’t particularly concerned. It was funny how much so simple a gesture could say. Kess echoed the gesture and settled into the couch, reaching out to pull the bowl of popcorn close. The Piskies all but slipped her mind until the wailing sound went up from the kitchen.
Bustifur started and lay staring, his ears pressed back. “What the hell is that?”
Jack and Kess sprang up from their seats and hurried down to the kitchen, where the wailing continued. In the middle of the kitchen floor was an assembly of Piskies, all shapes and sizes, gathered in a circle around a shrouded figure. Tears streamed down their faces, and they stood clinging to one another.
“What happened?” Kess asked, surveying the scene.
“It’s poor Nimble,” one of the Pisties squeaked. “He’s… He’s… dead!” The wailing grew louder, and the brave spokes-piskie dissolved into sobs. Jack looked at Kess in confusion.
“They can die? Just like that?”
“They’re not immortal, Jack, just very, very long lived. All things end to make way for the new things to begin.”
Kess knelt down beside the ring of Piskies. “We should bury him out in the garden,” she said gently. “He’d have liked it there.”
The Piskies seemed to perk up at this, although they did continue to sniffle and rub at their eyes.
“We have to dig a hole?” one of them asked.
“With tools?”
“Aye, with tools,” replied Kess.
“Can we dig it by the apple tree?”
“I don’t see why not.” Kess hoped she sounded reassuring. She’d never had a dead faerie to deal with before.
“And can we have a wake and funeral, too?” The Piskies were almost jubilant at this point as they quarreled amongst themselves as to who would get to do what.
Kess looked up at Jack, who was returning the same look of horrified confusion. How did one hold a faerie funeral and wake? But the Piskies were beyond them now, a group having broken off from the main to raid the tool shed and the others were to get ready inside. Kess looked down again when she felt a light tugging on her sleeve.
“We’ll be needin’ sammiches,” said a small Piskie. “And a wee dram wouldn’t go amiss either.”
And then they were gone, carrying their fallen comrade with them. Kess knelt looking up at Jack. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know, but I think I’d better got and over see the grave digging before something else happens. You can do the sandwiches.”
***
Outside in the garden, the burial taskforce had managed to procure themselves a small spade and had decided on the perfect spot among the roots of the apple tree. Jack walked up the yard, his hands deep in his pockets. The Piskies took no notice of him as four of them manhandled the spade into place. They drove the blade into the soil deeply and at an angle until the handle came to rest on a root. Another part of the group then clambered up onto the handle, gabbling and giggling, and began to jump up and down. Slowly but surely, the blade worked its way up from the soil and the contents were laid aside. Jack couldn’t help but smile as the Piskies took it in shifts to dig the grave in this fashion.
“Can I help?” he offered, squatting down by the worksite. A nearby Piskie shoot its head and waved Jack off then happily took its turn to jump on the handle. Jack shook his head and watched, and couldn’t help but feel that the Piskies had the right of it: they could turn unpleasant work like the digging of a grave into a game. Once the grave itself had been dug, the Piskies satisfied with the depth, Jack pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and laid it over the opening. He secured it with some small stones and then followed the Piskies back to the house.
***
“We’re doing this why?” Bustifur asked from his perch on the counter. Kess was on her second loaf of bread for sandwiches, and was mixing a can of flaked salmon with mayonnaise. Bustifur was watching her hungrily.
“Because it’s the right thing to do, Bustifur. We’ve just had a faerie die here in the guesthouse. We need to do our best to see that the mourners have everything they need.”
“It’s only a Piskie!”
“It’s still a faerie, Bustifur. You know the agreement just as well as I do. He was still a Seelie, even if he’s one of the lesser fae, and that makes him our responsibility.”
“Do faeries even have funerals?” Bustifur mused.
“I dunno, Bus. But we’re going to find out.”
Kess finished with her sandwiches and dumped what remained of the salmon into Bustifur’s dish. There was chicken and tuna already in there. She set the dish on the floor, knowing that eating would silence any further complaints he might have. She then picked up two of the four trays of sandwiches and carried them into the dining room. The long table was already set with flasks of wine, pitchers of ice water, and a couple of bottle of stronger spirits. Piskie sized glasses had been laid out, as had an assortment of sweets. In the parlor, the dead Piskie had been laid out and cut flowers had been arranged around him. The other Piskies had been taking it in turns to mourn over him, and there seemed to be more and more arriving all the time. Or perhaps arriving wasn’t the best word, because she was beginning to suspect that many of them were leaving and coming back again. It now seemed that the grave party were now filing their way in.
Kess heard the front door open and close and poked her head out to see Jack removing his coat. He hung it on the coat rack and gave Kess an amused smile as he simply shook his head and spread his arms wide. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. “They’re having fun with it!”
“Fun? But it’s a wake!”
“The Irish used to have fun at their wakes,” Jack shrugged. He could hear tiny pipes starting up in the parlor. “I think we’re in for one of those tonight.”
“I just feel so awful that he’s dead, Jack. That’s never happened before.”
Kess and Jack returned to the parlor to pay their respects, and the Piskies moved between the two rooms, returning to the parlor with drinks and bits of sandwich. As the evening wore on, Jack’s prediction came true. The music became wilder, the cards came out and there was a great deal of dancing and gambling. To Kess’s horror, someone had the deceased Nimble up for a dance more than once, and he eventually got propped up at the card table with a drink in one hand and cards in the other. The other players freely swapped cards out of his hand, and often emptied, then topped off his drink.
Kess was three times back into the kitchen preparing food for the Piskies, who had never had a wake before and were making the most out of this one. Jack would often help her, and more often would jot notes down in a notebook after watching the Piskies. As dawn approached, Kess was ready to drop. She was sagging in her chair as she watched the revelry wind down and the Piskies become sober faced and solemn. As the first rays of light came through the windows, Nimble laid out neatly once again and covered over with a cloth. Three other Piskies then lifted him to their shoulders and began the progression to the grave. The others followed, many carrying with them the cut flowers from the parlor. One tried to carry a crystal ashtray until Kess removed it from his hands.
Kess and Jack followed at the very back of the procession to the hole among the roots, and watched as Nimble was carefully laid in it. One of the Piskies stepped forward, doffing his hat and clearing his throat.
“We gather here to day,” he chirped, “to bury poor Nimble. He was as good a Piskie as one could hope, but a greedy b*****d because he had to play at Funeral first!”
At this there was a giggling, which then grew into a steady guffaw. Kess gasped as she realized it was coming from the grave and that the burial shroud was moving. Nimble pulled the fabric away from himself, shaking with mirth and climbed out of the hole. He clapped his hands with delight.
“Fun! Fun!” he cried. “Tis a fun game, this Funeral! Who shall we bury next?”
Kess groaned as Jack threw back his head and laughed. She shot him a dirty look as they left the Piskies to argue about who would be buried next beneath the old apple tree. Jack was still cackling as they reached the front porch.
“All night! We were up all night, and for what? A silly Piskie prank!”
“Look on the bright side, Kess! You were worried about him being dead, and now he’s fine and you know you can hold a very lovely funeral here if you ever need to.”
“My arse to that,” Kess muttered. “It’ll be a long bloody time before I wake the dead again.”
Jack smiled, patted her warmly on the shoulder and headed towards the basement stairs and his room while Kess did the same. As tired as they both were, they were sure to sleep like the dead for a few hours at least.
- by Pouncequick |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 11/29/2008 |
- Skip
![](https://graphics.gaiaonline.com/images/arena-images/ic_paper_corner_32x32.gif)
- Title: Waking the Dead
- Artist: Pouncequick
- Description: Just a bit of fun. Constructive criticism always appreciated.
- Date: 11/29/2008
- Tags: waking dead
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Comments (5 Comments)
- Villain Vanilla - 03/22/2009
- not bad, but not exciting enough for my standards
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- Pouncequick - 12/27/2008
- Thanks very much! I appreciate the feedback
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- Strawberry_dream64 - 12/24/2008
- ITS A NICE JOB I LOVE IT I'LL GIVE A 4/5 :3 biggrin
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- Pouncequick - 12/07/2008
- I appreciate the votes, keep them coming! But comments would be lovely so I know what people are thinking.
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- Pouncequick - 12/04/2008
- Any feedback on this would be very much appreciated.
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