El lenguaje como medio de expresión y comunicación

Death in the world of WitchCraft is but another stage of reality. Souls are immortal and very hard to destroy, even by arcane means. Some enter Heaven, but nobody truly knows what lies there, for no one who enters ever returns. Some go to Hell -- a whole slew of them, actually -- to be purified through torment and ordeal. Some are snatched away to realms of shadows where god-like beings rule over kingdoms of the dead. Many are reborn into new bodies on Earth, evolving through a process of death and reincarnation, each new life-time a reflection of past lives’ experiences.

Some among the dead return to Earth in violation of the normal Cycle. They wander the world as incorporeal entities or re-animate their corpses and become Undead. In older times such visitors from beyond the grave were weak and few in number.

All cultures had legends and lore on how to deal with them. The creatures were largely kept in check, except during times of crisis like war or plague. The Reckoning has weakened the barriers separating the Lands of the Living from the Realms of the Dead, however. In some places, the walls are thin enough for intruders to venture forth to Earth.

Errant souls are finding it easier to return to their bodies and rise as Undead.

This chapter describes four kinds of returned dead. Two of them (Ghosts and Phantasms) are Spirits, bodiless souls that wander the world. The other two (Vampyres and the Relentless Dead) are Undead, spirits who have revived their corpses to fulfill their strange destinies.

Felix was a cool one; I had to give him that. His expression when he opened the door of his crib and saw me barely changed. Only a slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed the fact that I was the last person he was expecting to see.

“Eddie,” he said after a tiny pause. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk, Felix,” I said. “Partner, old buddy. We need to talk.”

“Sure, man. Come on in.” He moved smoothly, stepping aside to let me walk in, and whipping out his 9-millimeter pistol all in the same motion so that when I turned around he had me cov-ered.

“Just don’t be making no moves, Eddie,” Felix said. “You be cool, okay?”

I kept my hands by my sides. “I’m cool, Felix.”

“Keep cool. Sit over there.” He motioned towards an old armchair, a souvenir of the old neighborhood Felix had taken with him when he moved to the big time. I obeyed. Felix sat opposite me in a plush leather sofa; his gun always trained on me.

“Is your lady home, Felix?”

“No, she had to go over to her folks’ place. Won’t be back ‘till Monday.”

“That’s good. We can talk, then.”

“So talk. What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you mean ‘Why are you alive,’ Felix?” I replied. “You set me up. After all the stuff we went through together, you put a contract out on me. Was it the money? I thought we were both making more than we would ever need. Or do you still hate me because I went to college while you stayed in the ‘hood?”

“I hate you ‘cause you came back with your money and your big plans,” Felix replied. “You always acting like your shit don’t smell. I’m running the business now, Eddie. I don’t know how you got away, but . . .”

“I didn’t,” I cut him off. For the first time since I showed up, Felix looked nonplused.

“You didn’t what?”

“Get away. The contract worked. Your guys pumped me full of bullets, stuffed me in the trunk of my BMW and sent me over a cliff. My body is being eaten by crabs at the bottom of the bay right now. I should know, I checked on it half an hour ago.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “What shit you talking about, man?”

“You can drop the phony gansta talk, Felix. We both know you’re not black, you’re

Palestinian like me, only you tan darker than me. You killed me, you bastard. Your own cousin, and you killed me. I’ve come back to collect on all debts. You owe me my life.”

There was nothing wrong with Felix’s reflexes, or with his marksmanship. He fired three shots in rapid succession. Two scored, one right above my left eye, the other messily taking the top of my head off. There was some discomfort as blood ran down the ruined left side of my face, and I actually felt part of my brain splattering against the wall. I smiled. It wasn’t a pretty smile -– the bullet had ripped off most of the skin off my left cheek.

“No good, Felix. You can’t shoot me down and forget me.”

Felix finally broke. Screaming hysterically, he started pumping shots into me. I rushed him before he could inflict enough damage to ruin the body I had crafted. The ghost of my father had warned me that even the Dead have limits. I ripped the gun out of Felix’s hand, breaking a couple of fingers, and knocked him to the ground.

“Don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me!”

I stood over him. Some of the gore from my head wound dripped on my cowering cousin. He flinched.

“I’m not going to kill you, Felix. That would be too easy, and I know first hand that death does not end things. No, I’m going to let you live.”

Felix didn’t look very relieved. He was smart enough to know there would be a catch.

“I’m going to hhaauunntt you, cousin. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I’ll be there.”

The words took a few seconds to sink in. I con-tinued even as his expression froze in terrible real-ization. “You will have no rest. When things seem to be going well, I’ll sour them up. Before I came by, I dropped a dime on your operation. If you’re lucky your boys won’t turn you in, and you’ll simply be ruined. Otherwise, you’ll be in jail for a long time. Either way, I’ll be there to keep you company, cousin. I’ll be there.”

When I left he was still screaming. I waited a little to see if he had the guts to eat his gun. He didn’t.

I’d pay him another visit pretty soon.

Spirits

“Being dead is no joke, lemme tell you. After the accident, I had one of them out of body experi-ences, only when I came back, my body was no longer up and running. Now I’m sort of stuck here.

You know, I could Move On, but that scares the blazes out of me. I’ve seen Hell, and, you know, I like New Jersey better.”

Death marks the end of one stage of existence, and the beginning of another. Most humans are swept away in the currents of a cycle of death and reincarnation or Move On to different planes of existence. Driven by anger, love, despair or some other powerful emotion, a few break free from the Cycle. Some do so by reviving their former bod-ies; they are known as the Undead, and are described elsewhere. Many more remain in the physical world in spirit, errant souls able to travel between Earth and the Death Realms.

The souls of the dead, like their bodies in life, are not all created equal. They vary in overall strength and ability to affect the physical world. Many are pitiful things, mere shadows of their former selves, lacking in intellect and memory and all but helpless until they return to the eternal cycle and are rein-carnated or transported to another plane of exis-tence. Others are powerful enough to play impor-tant roles both on Earth and in the Otherworlds.