The Dead Ones - The Hanging Tree

Will lit a new cigarette. He’d sussed it out now. And could taste the tobacco. That was great. And now he was dead, he didn’t give a shit how many he smoked. He’d also mastered doing the work to get new smokes from the shops. It was exactly as Silas had said. You walk in and take ‘em. Don’t speak to anyone. Don’t even look at ‘em. Walk in, pick up the smokes, walk out again. 

He was sitting on the bench in the park. The bench. Others existed. But this is the one that had the ashtray on top of the bin. So that’s where he sat. Silas would arrive soon. He’d been at a meeting with Raven. Council for The Dead business. He felt annoyed that they excluded him. But being the warden meant he had to keep watch on the souls entering the park. He made sure the healthy ones crossed the bridge. The others? Well, the warden kept them back for disposal. 

That’s what they told him. And the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like fucking nonsense. Before Silas stuck a blade in his chest, he’s been a firm believer in Occam’s Razor. The thing that made the fewest assumptions was the right one. 

Meaning, was he really sorting out the poor sods who could help save humanity? Or was it more a case that Silas, Raven and whoever else were pissed off ghosts trying to make their existence look official? 

—Will?

—Ah, Silas, sorry, miles away there. 

—You’re the warden. You should be alert. 

—Whatever. I told yer, I’m not a fucking warden. 

—You are. It is your calling–

—Here you go again with that calling bollocks—

—Come with me. It’s time for you to meet Jemima. 

—Who? 

—The Keeper of The Tree. 

—For fuck’s sake. Why does everything have to sound—

—Will? See that attitude? I’d rein that in.

Will sighed. He figured there’d be a reason for another movie character sounding name. He followed Silas deeper into the park. 

Silas stopped at an old oak tree. It was peculiar. Will didn’t remember it being there before. Silas looked up, and then down the path leading back towards the entrance. 

—Watch. 

—Why? What’s going—

—Watch. 

Will watched. Lit a new cigarette. Offered Silas one. He took it. And Will was once again fascinated by the smoke Silas exhaled, which streamed through the deep veins in his face. 

A man, an alive one, wandered into the park. He looked haggard. Distraught. And angry, all at the same time. He wandered along muttering to himself. He approached them, rubbing his face. 

Then, a beautiful young woman materialised. From where, Will didn’t see. But she was stunning. Long, ash blonde hair. And dressed in a dress that looked Victorian. She made the man jump. 

—Benjamin Thomas? 

—Er, yeah, who are you? 

—This will seem strange, but I’m here to help you. 

—With what, like? 

—The solution to your problem. 

—Er, ‘ow d’yer know what problems—

—It’s my job to know. 

—It is? 

—Yes. 

—Lady, nice to meet yer an all that, but—

—Benjamin? Stay. Talk with me for a while. 

The young man hesitated. But the lady was staring at him. Her deep blue eyes fixed on him. They had an effect. The young man shrugged. 

—Okay, nothing else to do, I guess. 

—You killed her, didn’t you, Benjamin? 

—Fuckin’ what? 

—Your girlfriend, Jasmine. 

—‘Ow the fuck d’yer know—

—Benjamin? I told you. It’s my job to know. 

—Ah! I get it. I’m hallucinating. Shouldn’t of had that joint—

—You are not. I’m real, this is real. 

—Oh. Bloody hell—

—Come with me, Benjamin. The view is better up the tree. 

—What? I ain’t—

He walked over anyway. And watched as Jemima climbed the lower branches of the tree. Will watched as Benjamin did the same. She smiled down at him. There was something off about her. Will saw it in the way she looked at the bloke. 

—Okay there? 

—Yeah, haven’t climbed a tree since I was a kid. 

—We will go higher so we can see across the park. 

—Cool, okay. This is weird, but still. 

They climbed upwards. Ever higher. Will started to get a bad feeling. Worse than the one he had a few moments ago. He stood up. 

—Oi! Mate! 

—Benjamin look round. 

—I’d come down out of there if I was you—

—Will? Do not interfere. 

Silas. The grumpy fucker. Trouble was, he had his blade drawn. 

Jemima reached a thick branch. A study branch, high up above where Silas and Will stood smoking their cigarettes. 

—Come out with me, Benjamin, Jemima said. 

He followed, as though he was in a trance. She led him out onto the branch. 

—You killed her Benjamin. 

—I did, yeah. Dirty fuckin’ bitch was cheatin’ on me, she was. 

—Killing her wasn’t necessary. 

—I know, I just snapped—

—Like your neck will in a few moments. 

—Wha’? What the FUCK?

Will watched as Jemima’s face changed. Her eyes changed to deep black. Her face became skeletal and deep-veined, like Silas’s. Her hands became claws. 

She produced from somewhere, Will didn’t from where, a rough hemp rope. She deftly tied it to the branch. Benjamin sat watching. Mesmerised. Unable to move. 

Jemima made a noose and looped it over his neck. And tightened it. 

—Your time has come, she growled. 

—Wha’? What yer doing to me? Get this thing off—

He screamed. Jemima pushed him and cackled with glee. 

Benjamin fell, but the rope caught him. And his neck snapped. An audible, horrendous noise. Will stared. Jemima smiled down, her face contorted into a twisted grin. 

Will looked at Silas. 

—What the actual fuck? 

—Jemima is an ancient witch of the crossover. She allows us to do our work. As long as we give her a sacrifice now and then. 

—Mate, I wish you’d stop spouting bollocks and talk like a normal dead person. What the fuck is she? 

—A demonic witch. Trapped here herself. 

—Would you like to come and sit with me Will?, said Jemima. 

—Like shit, I would! Piss off. 

—Jemima? You’ve had your fun for today, said Silas. 

Her face contorted. And melted back to the beautiful female face it had been before. 

—As you wish, Silas. 

She gave a little wave and sort of shimmered away into the air. 

—You have learned that managing the dead is a delicate balance, Will. 

Will lit another cigarette, trying to steady his shaking hands. 

—I suppose I have. 

He tried not to look at the death mask on Benjamin’s face as he swung gently from the rope.