The Dead Have No Shadows

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Authors: Chris Mawbey
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it,” Pester replied, wiping his finger through the dust on the night stand.  This place is dead.  There is no life here and new life can’t be created.”
    “So does Janic think that he can keep the village going by marrying off his daughter?” asked Mickey.
    “Possibly,” mused Pester.  “But we don’t have a groom at the moment.”
    “What?” Mickey had turned back to the window but spun round at the revelation.
    “There’s to be some kind of ceremony tomorrow to decide who Elena will marry,” said Pester.  “The wedding will take place the day after.”
    “And I take it that Elena isn’t happy with some of the candidates,” said Mickey.
    “I think there’s more to it than that,” Pester replied.  “I think that mother and daughter are against the idea of the marriage at all – irrespective of who the groom might be.  They seem to have other plans.”
    A short while later there was a knock at the door.  Mickey opened it to find Elena standing there.  He smiled broadly.
    Elena didn’t return the smile.  “Father says that our meal will soon be ready.”
    “Thank you, Elena.  I’ll be straight down.”  Mickey replied.
    The girl turned to go but Mickey put a hand on her arm.  “Don’t look so sad.  I’m sure everything will work out ok for you.”
    “Do you think so?”  Elena said.  She stared at Mickey defiantly but her eyes were moistening.  She turned away quickly and hastened down the stairs.  Mickey watched her until she was out of sight then closed the door.  Pester was smiling at him.
    “What?” said Mickey.
    “Nothing,” the guide replied, his smile broadening.
    “Fuck off,” Mickey growled.  Then changing the subject, “What are you going to do for food?  You can’t eat with us.”
    “I’ll be ok.  I’m going for a walk round the village,” Pester replied.  “You should concentrate on trying to put a smile on the pretty bride’s face.”
     
    The meal consisted of meagre portions of heavily salted lamb with dried vegetables that had been boiled back to some semblance of tenderness.  In the middle of the table were slices of a flat, dry bread.  Mickey hadn’t seen that type of bread before; it certainly wasn’t something Mum used to get from Asda .  The lamb was tough and all four diners had to chew their meat long and hard before they could swallow it.  Each mouthful was washed down with a tepid sweet red wine.  Mickey was sensible enough to only take a small first sip.  The wine had long ago turned to vinegar and Mickey struggled to not screw his face up in distaste.
    The tension at the table was palpable and Mickey became increasingly uncomfortable as he vainly tried to find topics of conversation that wouldn’t reignite the family row.  He rejected each idea and finally opted for safety and ate in silence.  Janic was also feeling the pressure and tried several of his own attempts at small talk.  Each line dried up after a few exchanges.
    “How long have you been dead, Mickey Raymond,” Elena suddenly asked.  It was the first thing she’d said since the meal began.  Her question raised a howl of protest from her father.  Janic was furious that his daughter should speak without permission and then embarrass his honoured guest.  Olga didn’t say anything but Mickey sensed that her concern wasn’t for his embarrassment but for something else entirely.
    Mickey was caught by surprise at the nature of the question.  At the same time he was pleased by the girl’s directness.  He also liked the sound of her voice.
    Janic was still ranting at his daughter.
    “Please, Mr. Kovaks – Janic ,” said Mickey.  “It’s alright.  I’m not offended.”  He then turned his attention to Elena.  “I died two days ago.  It’s still a strange feeling – especially talking about it.”
    “How did you die?”  Again, the directness of Elena’s question enraged her father and pleased his guest.  Mickey found Janic’s discomfort

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