Afterlife: Klara and Pixie

[x-welshpixie.livejournal.com]

Klara and Pixie meet something unexpected in the school's library.


 Pixie was hunched over her homework assignment in the school’s library, trying desperately to think of a second paragraph for the five-paragraph essay. It wasn’t going well, and she was drawing little flowers around the holes in the three-punch paper. Finally she got up and started looking for more books on her topic. Sure, she could use the computer, but browsing would kill more time and was more interesting. Sometimes nothing felt better than procrastination.

In one section, she came across Klara, a casual friend she liked quite well. They had even played Dungeons and Dragons together once with Dori, Nico and the others.

“Hey Klara!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper.

“Hello Pixie,” whispered Klara in return, waving down at the other girl from atop a step stool. Being as short as she was, Klara couldn’t reach the top shelves without help. She didn’t trust her control with plants enough to try use them to grab a book for her yet, even if she had improved leaps and bounds since initially developing her powers.

Someone clapped their hands. While it should’ve been a normal sound, coming from the very top of the bookshelf Klara was reaching to get a book from was the abnormal part.

“Ho-la! Wai’ for it....Wai’ for it...” a man with a heavy Latin accent said, spreading his arms while he stood on top of the bookshelf. He wore what appeared to be a business suit but upon closer inspection the inside jacket lining of the suit was well decorated in brightly printed fabric to look like a bunch of Picasso-esque shapes. His face was also heavily made up with eye liner and pancake makeup.

He was also transparent.

Dropping his arms down, he suddenly leaped off the bookcase, right towards the table Pixie was standing next to.

“Dramatico!” he yelled as he jumped...then disappeared right through the table.

After a moment of shocked silence, and pulse racing ,Pixie clapped.

“Very good! Impressive, Nico!” She stopped clapping, looked to Klara and looked to the empty table into whence the apparition had disappeared. She’d seen her roommate animate things, create a magical GPS from a mall map and convince some young Harry Potter fans that fairies were real. But this was different.

“Ah... that wasn’t Nico’s magic was it?”

The transparent and incorporeal man had startled Klara enough to knock her off the step ladder onto her bottom. She watched in shock and disbelief, distracted momentarily from the mild pain her rear was in thanks to that fall.

“...no, I do not believe it was,” said Klara, pale grey eyes wide. “An illusion prank, perhaps?”

Pixie wiped away some sweat from her forehead and rubbed her hands on her jeans, pretending she wasn’t too scared when she was actually still a bit startled.

“Ah, are you OK?” Pixie offered her hand to help Klara up.

A head popped its way out of the table, a pearly grin on the man’s lips as he hopped up.

“That was brilliant, wouldn’t you say!” he said, spinning around to face the women as he spread his palms.

He took a moment to wait for applause, before glancing them over.
“Hmmm...A little joven for me. Estoy muy triste,” he said, then shrugged.
“Ah well, there are always other ladies!”
Clapping his hands, he stared at them expectantly. “Well, do I get a tour?”

Klara was about to answer Pixie as she took the offered hand to get up, but was distracted by the strange new arrival. For a full ten seconds, the small chloropath stared at the man with her eyes wide and her mouth gaping open with an expression reminiscent of a goldfish. It took her another twenty seconds before she was able to find the words to address him.

“Ah...um. Welcome?”

“Ah... it’s still here?” Pixie whispered to Klara. Unfortunately her classmate was as in much shock as she was, so she directed her next words to the apparition.

“I’m confused. Who are you? What are you? And I think you should know that your head is in the table.” This was quickly getting really creepy.

Marcos flashed a grin at the two lovely ladies. Rays of charm and charisma radiated off of him, things that only came with that much energy. Just watching him was tiring.

“Is it? I like it. It tickles a bit,” he said, wagging his eyebrows as he stepped out from the table. He started to reach out, to take Klara’s hand, when he paused in realization and fluidly gave the two a bow.

“I am Marcos Delgado, top trapeze artist and contortionist for Liberty Eagle Circus!” he said, enunciating the word ‘artist’ with a flourish of his hand.
He made a face with annoyance.
“Or, I was,” he said, his shoulders drooping.
“And now that is no more.”

Klara continued to stare until she reminded herself that the apparition had introduced himself and that it would be rude not to say anything. It seemed like a very bad idea to be rude to a ghost. Perhaps this was some sort of test of their character? She knew little about the supernatural.

“I am Klara and this is Pixie,” Klara managed to squeak out, motioning to the other girl with her. “It is...nice to meet you.”

“Ah, yeah, n-nice to meet you,” Pixie stammered. Marcos seemed to be expecting something. “So, ah, what happened? To the... circus?” Pixie glanced sidelong at Klara, raising a questioning eyebrow. “G-H-O-S-T?” she mouthed silently and looked back at the apparition.
Marcos peered at the two curiously.

“No, no, no. It is still there. I died...” he said, then spread his arms with a beaming grin.

“Like this, actually!”
Marcos’s head suddenly snapped backward, bending as such that the back of his head touched his shoulder blades.
“I missed the cut catch. Came right out of a muy, muy bonito double cutaway with a half twist. Very sad,“ he said, his head still twisted back.
“I’d leave...but something is missing.”

The blood drained from Pixie’s face upon confirmation that they were talking to a ghost--not some kind of illusion, but a real dead spirit with a broken neck.

Klara’s face was similarly pale. Given her normally fair complexion, she was now only a few shades darker than paper white. Regaining her ability to speak took a full thirty seconds.
“What is missing? Is it something we could help you find?”

In a very ‘Addams Family’ move, Marcos twisted his body around and his head snapped back into place.
“My mirror. It was stolen and sold. Once I see myself again...then, ah then I can rest in the grande circus ring in sky,” he said, then spread his arms out with a grin as wide as those arms.
“And you...can help me find it.”

It was the performance of his afterlife.