Life was easier for Margret with out her father around. She sat with Mazurka at her knee and she sneezed again. Margret laid down in a coughing fit. She thought back on her fathers departure. John didn't leave the car but sat still in the dark truck. She knew he couldn't see her face. Her father gave her a small hug, possibly a thank you but Margret wasn't sure. When John drove away Margret might have seen him look back a little. But it was all muddled and she decided not to dwell on the details.

She had heard of the poor fortune tellers death. It was to bad; she had heard she was pretty good. She wondered if she predicted her own death. Margret would have liked to have that skill, to predict deaths. It would have come in handy. Margret curled up in the covers and began to fall asleep.

Margret finally had a day off and wasn’t sure what to do. Unable to sit still anymore with her father Margret decided to walk the streets. Mazurka skipped happy beside her, glad to be out of her father’s presence. Margret dragged up Polaski and turned on Main Street. Her mind wandered to work and what was in store for her the next day. Suddenly Mazurka took off, running quickly behind the tall building.
“Mazurka, you dumb dog,” Margret muttered. Margret turned into the dark ally to find Mazurka pinning a child to the brick wall covering the child’s face with his wet tongue. “Shit Mazurka! What the hell are you doing?” Margret quickly grabbed the dog’s collar jerking him down from the child. “Oh ya, sorry for the language. Not used to children.” The boy stayed shrunk to the wall eying the dog that was the same size as him. “Its ok. Mazurka just really likes people. Especially little people ‘cause it’s easy for him to kiss you.” Margret gave a nervous smile to the boy. She noticed his eyes were filled with tears and he seemed to be hyperventilating. “Its ok, I promise.” Margret patted the boy on the shoulder, trying to get him to move. His stillness bothered her. He continued to stay frozen in fear. She leaned down to eye level with the boy. “Are you ok?” He shook his head. “Was it my dog?” He shook his head. Relief. “Are you lost? Not to many ten year old boys wandering around here.” He shook his head. “And your name is…?”
“William.”
“That’s a nice name. Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“And home is where?”
“Jupiter.”
“Jupiter? Oh, duh, the apartments. Oh ya! I live there, too. That’s right around the corner. Where you coming from?”
“School.” The boy started to loosen up. He began looking at Margret and straightening from his slouched position.
“Well, listen. I don’t think it’s a good idea for a boy your age to be wandering the streets, especially around here. I’ll be speaking with your parents about that…”
“I don’t have parents.”
“Oh, well, be glad. They can be a pain.” Margret gave a sympathetic glance. The boy wiped his face and took a deep breath.
“Ok lets g…”
“No! No, no, no. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go that way.” The boy grabbed Margret’s hand. She looked back startled.
“Oh, ok. Why?”
“Oh, omm,” William blushed.
“Its ok.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“No, I won’t. Try me.”
William shuddered and giggled slightly. “Well, I think that I might have seen something.”
“Something? Something as in…?”
“Well…omm…well…a ghost.”
“Told you I wouldn’t laugh.” Margret said. William smiled shyly while Margret tried to keep a serious face. “Ghosts are serious. Where did you see it?” William glanced up. “Oh ok William. You saw that thing up in the top of that abandoned building.” He nodded and moved closer to Margret.
“My sister said there was one up there. I think I saw it.” Margret peered down at the boy the same size of her dog. She had heard similar stories in the neighborhood with all different types of phantoms haunting the top floor. She heard of a murderer, an insane woman, and a famous retired prostitute. The only common thread seemed to be that what ever it was it was in that particular building. But every story was different and varied on a huge spectrum. Margret thought it was wish-wash.
“You’re sister said that, huh?” He nodded. “Don’t believe her.”
“I left her money she gave me in the building and she’s going to kill me.”
“What? Why where you in there?” Margret asked sternly. William shrunk back and shrugged.
“I wanted to see it.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“Oh fu…sorry. Ok, lets go.”
“No! Please no.”
“We don’t have a choice. If I had some money I’d give it to you but I don’t. There is a better chance of you sister killing you than any ghost.” Margret advanced towards the door; William clung tightly to her side. They slipped into the first huge room. Large crumbling columns holding the ceiling stood stately over their heads. The paint on the walls slowly peeled melted away. Debris from old reports and trash from years before were littered under their feet. Margret and William scuffed on toward the ominous cement staircase in the corner of the room. Margret walked quickly, dragging William behind her. Mazurka sniffed every bit of the floor, searching for any sort of danger. “Ok, what floor did you leave it?” Margret’s loud voice echoed.
“Third,” William whispered. Margret stamped up the staircase trying to get to the top of the building as fast as she could. Margret slammed the door to the third floor open and stepped inside.
The bag lay in the middle of the room and Margret walked over to grab it. They began their walk back down stairs when Mazurka began to bark loudly. “Shut up, Mazurka.” Almost to the door but something was in their way. Margret pushed William behind her. A young woman stood in the doorway between the inside of the building and the outside.
“Are you Coppel?” The young woman asked. Her voice was low pitched but pretty.
“Why?” Margret was suspicious.
“Oh. Just wondering. I was looking for a Coppel.” The woman continued to linger in the doorway. William whimpered and grasped onto Margret tightly. “You are Coppel. You look just like her.” The woman gazed at Margret’s face.
“No. We need to go.”
“Ok.” The woman stepped to the outside letting us slip by. Next she waltzed into the building.
“That was weird. Told you, no ghost. You tell your sister that too.” Margret whispered. Both gazed back into the empty building. “Ok, time to go home.”
William’s sister didn’t seem to pleased with Margret’s objection to walking home but William seemed to have warmed up to her. She at least liked one person in this town. It was getting late and she had to run to the food mart. Mr. Walker knew what she needed. There she heard to latest news on poor Ms. Lewis and her husband.
She was in for a surprise when she returned home. “Dad?”
“What?”
“What’s going on?”
“You’re brother decided he has the room.”
“Oh.” She looked around. The room was a mess but all of his cloths were shoved into a suitcase. “Ok. When do you leave?”
“As soon as I can. I can’t stand this stink hole.”
“Ok. So when is as soon as you can?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight!”
“John’s on his way.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be out of your hair and you can leave that heater on so high that you die of heat stroke for all I care. I’m done here.” He gave a small smile towards Margret.
“Good. Thank god.”

“Hey John,

 Its been a while and thanks for calling me back.  So I know its kind of weird that I’m writing after so many years.  I hope your doing well.  I’m surviving.  Well, you probably heard about mom and dad.  Dad is over at my place…I’m really surprised he can even look at me after what I did.  That’s the other reason I’m writing you, to apologize…”

“Ma’ma?”

“Oh yes!  Sorry.” Margret quickly scanned the medication for a Mr.Komanski and returned to her letter.

 

“I should have done more, you know, about what happened and all…”

 It had been raining heavily that day but at that time only mist clouded the night.  Mazurka trotted ahead beside Sylph as she skipped along the street.  She looked back with huge eyes calling Margret to hurry and catch her.  “Catch me, Mar!  Catch me!”  Her white dress flowed behind made her float along the pavement.  “Slow down, Sylph.”  The young girl continued to swirl and skip through the mist, her voice eerily filling the night air.  “Catch me!  Hurry.”  The trees along the road shadowed the young girl as she danced between the roots.  “Mar!”  Her hazel eyes glinted and grin widened under the stars.  The moon lit her every graceful movement.  She glided sweetly between the tall trunks sang loudly for all the night to hear.  “I love you, Mar.  Now come catch me!”  And Her song began to fade and she slipped more and more behind the black columns and trunks.  “Come on out, Sylph.  No time for games.  Your father wants us back soon.”  Margret strained her eyes through the mist.  “Sylph, come on.  I love you, too.”  Margret waited but both Mazurka’s and Sylph’s footsteps were gone.  “Sylph.”  She waited.  And she waited.  The trees grew to touch the stars. The moon dimmed to make complete darkness. And she waited some more.  “Sylph!”  An owl screeched and Margret's heart began to pound.  “Sylph, I am not playing!”  Time stopped. Margret searched for some flicker movement in the complete darkness.  A hazel eye or white fabric.  A young innocent grin.  Margret began to feel the sweet and her heart pulsed in her ears.  The silence screamed louder and louder as the seconds passed and no sign of her niece. “Mazurka!  Sylph!”  Margret’s body ached and she desperately searched the darkness.  Years later Mazurka’s barking came.  Margret crashed through the woods keeping her ears open only to Mazurka’s deep voice.  She sprinted and pushed the trees as Mazurka’s volume increased.  She scrambled through weeds and mist to find the dog howling beside the small girl.  The little fragile person lying quietly on the forest floor.  “Sylph, Sylph, Sylph…”  Margret’s heart left her body.  She took the girls head, her hair glinted silver under the moonlight, and placed it on her lap.  She rocked her back and forth her arms.  The blood was hot and socked through Margret's cloths.  It covered Sylphs young face, and hair, and white dress.  It covered the grass and trees and moon and stars.  Margret moaned and looked into the girl’s hazel eyes, now still, and her white teeth, now not in a grin.  Mazurka continued to howl and howl and howl.  Margret only felt pain.  Only pain.  And when the sun rose John found Margret holding her, rocking back and forth.  Back and forth.  By then the blood was black and stained.  And Margret returned to the house covered in dried blood and her mother could not look at her.  Her father could not look at her.  Sylph could not look at her.  After the funeral she ran far away from John and her family. 

“I shouldn’t have run away.”  Margret through the paper quickly into the trash.  There was no way to apologize. She thought of John.  His horror.  His pain.  His Sylph with the same eyes.  It had been four years.  Four long years.  She thought of her father.  He was the only one to call her after Sylph’s death.  The only one that looked her in the eyes.  The only one that didn’t treat her differently.  He was the only one that continued to yell at her not turn the other way.  The only one to expect improvement from her and not condemn her.  He drove her crazy but he made no adjustments for her.     

 

“Hi, ma’ma?” A customer said.  Margret jumped back to reality.

“Yes?”

“I need to pick up something for a Kara Taylor.”

“Ok, ya.”  Margret noticed the small child staring at her.  About the age of Sylph.  Margret grabbed the inhaler for Kara.

“Thanks.”

 

Margret walked home late that night.  The air was filled with smoke but she was too tired to see what was burning.  She saw Mr.Wesly on her way up to her floor.  She entered the apartment to her father’s complaints about a Ronald and the heater and Mazurka’s thankful kisses.  Her father stopped for a while and stared at the girl.  She was unusually quiet and a lot less angry.

“What’s wrong with you?  Why don’t you fix your shity heater?” 

“I am!  I’ll do it when I can.”  But her father let the issue go and returned to the T.V. in silence.  Margret began to look at the broken machine in peace.                   

Margret pulled her new uniform on quickly and stuffed her mouth with a bagel. The clock’s hands moved to quickly for Margret to keep up. She was going to be late on her first day of work. Mazurka moaned by her side, not wanting to be left alone with her father. As Margret opened the door to her apartment while eating and trying to get her key out she glanced back at the old man on the couch. His snores roared through out the room and he barely fit on the tiny cushions. Margret slammed the door and raced out of the building.

It was to early for anyone to be out, the sun still crouched along the horizon. Margret rushed down Polaski Avenue but didn’t make it to far before a collision. Out of the ally way a man stepped out. Margret tumbled hard, skinning her hands and knees along the pavement. The blood showed brightly against the small bits of left over snow. But there was no time to be concerned with her wounds. The man lay flat on his back yelling at the top of his lungs. The words hit Margret’s ears loudly but they were strange and unrecognizable. Margret tried desperately to consol the man. “Are you ok? I am so sor…” He immediately lunged forward punching Margret hard on the jaw screaming at her in his strange tongue. Margret felt immediate dizziness and the pain was unimaginable. The man grabbed Margret up by her hair and pulled her face close to his. “I don’t know what you want but don’t ever mess with me again. I will be watching you.” The Russian accent was clear in his thick voice. Margret noticed the blood spots along the man’s face. The man threw her back to the ground, evaluated her limp body, and walked briskly away.

Margret stumbled to her feet still unable to concentrate or understand the current event. The blood was hot and continued to pour. It stained her new cloths and covered her hands and face. She fell against the wall beside her and felt the pain take its full effect on her body. She hunched in a daze glancing to see if anybody was near by. And there across the street, up on top of the bank, stood Jesus. He stood still watching Margret intently in his white toga he made from bed sheets. His face was contorted in concentration. They stared at each other for a while, Margret still in a daze and him in continuous delusion. Suddenly the man started flapping his arms wildly screaming loudly. Margret moaned and gave up hope on the crazy. He could not help her. “You there! I am Jesus!” He continued to flap around. “You have somewhere to be!” He yelled to Margret. He stopped moving and stared intently on Margret once more. She looked up in surprise. That’s right. She was late for work.

Margret hobbled the rest of the way to the pharmacy still trying to wrap her brain around the threat. She had never been attacked like this before. She entered the building and headed straight for the bathroom. She scrubbed the blood from her hands, knees, and nose. The wounds burned but it kept her from feeling upset. She was yelled at for being late and being covered in blood. Through out the morning she stood at the cash register counting money and trying to be as nice as possible to all of the customers. Her nose never stopped bleeding and stained many dollar bills. She tried everything to try and make the blood stop to the point of shoving toilet paper up her nose.
“Ewo. Ow cun I hep you?” Margret asked one woman.
“Om, I need to pick up my prescription for Loretta McMurphy.”
“OA. Ho on a secon.” Margret got the woman her medicine. She stared at Margret in slight confusion as to why she had stuff up her nose and she was covered in blood but left with out question. But Loretta was much kinder than some.

“What happened to you?” a guy asked who came to pick up a prescription for a Ferdinand Fernadino. “Where you at the Jaguar last night when that guy was arrested?” Margret burst into tears.
“A guy pun me in a sree is moring. I wa lae fo wor!”
“Sorry I asked,” He hurried out of the pharmacy.

Margret left the pharmacy after a harsh warning about being late and bloody. It was six o clock she headed to the pub where she was to meet her dad. He sat on a stool being served by a middle-aged woman. When he saw Margret stumble in with her bloody self he started to laugh. He laughed harder and harder at Margret standing at the door. She felt the hatred boil in her stomach again at her fathers lack of sympathy. But she knew what she owed him and she was aware of her debt. He could laugh at her condition. There was a price to forgiveness.

Her father had decided to stay in the apartment when the fire alarm went off. If it was his time to die, he claimed, then that was perfectly fine with him. Burning didn’t seem to bad since he was going to burn in hell anyways. Plus his favorite show was on, The Bachelor.

Margret never understood his attraction to the show. Of course, it was her mother who dragged him into watching it. Once a week her mother would switch from the news to the Bachelor, even with her father’s loud and rude protests. But it grew on the man. Eventually, he joined his wife on the couch. At first he complained about the sappiness and cheesiness. But then he became silent and began to really watch the show. And eventually he couldn’t fight it. Every week, Margret’s mother and father sat together watching the reality show.

Of course he loved watching a bunch of pretty girls strut around in bathing suits and skimpy dresses. But mostly he seemed to enjoy shouting snide comments. He would exclaim, “Why doesn’t he just be a Mormon,” or “Just follow the script, lady! Say how much you love him.” Anything the man could insult was a joy.

When Margret returned to the apartment her father sat laughing deeply at a girl crying desperately in the limo. Margret never noticed how ugly girls are when they cry.
Her father glanced at Margret quickly and returned to his T.V. watching. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks. It was a false alarm.”

“Well of course. I’m not dead.”

Margret began to put away the groceries left on the counter. She removed the cereal and frozen foods from the plastic bags. She glanced at her father. She couldn’t help feel a small bubble of anger. He was fat and old. He spread across the torn couch like a king, stuffing her last bit of wheat thins into his face. Well, she thought, she would be living with the man for a while. She at least had to try.

“I got in an argument with this guy because he keep pushing me on the way into the building. I think his name was Fish or Fosh or something. Just a big jerk.”

“hm.” Her father continued to stare at the screen in the corner. Margret placed some French fries and pizzas into the freezer.

“I tried to find work again. Went to Lu’s garage but they didn’t need anybody.”

“hm.” He tried to through the empty box of wheat thins into the trashcan but fell two feet short. He made no effort to fix the problem. Margret tried not to stomp her way over to pick up the box and place it into the trash.

“Ohm. I met a girl Sidda who lives some apartments above us when we were waiting for the fireman. She seemed nice but we didn’t talk very long. I think Mazurka might have freaked her out a little.” Her father didn’t make a reply. He continued gazing at the mascara streaked, red face girl on the screen. “I went to the pub. They didn’t have work. But there was a really tipsy woman, Magdalene…” The man wasn’t listening. She was sure he had no interest what so ever about the day’s events. Though Margret knew exactly what to say to set him off and felt the urge just to put the man in his place, she keep her mouth shut. As much as she would love to tell him off, she thought better of the situation.

For the first time in her life, she could kick him out. He could sleep on the sidewalk like she did in her younger years. Suddenly she had the power. She didn’t have to use language and wit to win a fight. She just would say, “get out” and that was it. So she decided against a battle of insults.

She finished with the groceries and bent down to Mazurka’s level. He had not left her side since they left the building during the fire alarm. He did not like being left with her father while she went job searching. She peered into the dog’s eyes. “its going to be a long couple weeks with him around.” She whispered. She rested her face against the dog’s chest and allowed her mind to wonder. She thought of her past and how much she missed her home. “John! Mazurka, I have to speak to John! He called me yesterday. I’ve been writing him the past two months but he finally called me.” Margret glanced once more at the pig of a man now laughing hysterically at the Bachelor tearing up. She grinned, “John could help me out I think.”

Margret sat in complete darkness. It seemed the black out was just what she needed to top off a horrible day. She had been around the whole city, going from business to business, looking for work but every place turned her down. She had been to the bookstore and turned down by the blind man. An Asian lady at a little shop turned her down. She had been to the pub, diner, salon, church, coffee shop, and almost every business on her block but they all shook their heads at her request for work. She considered asking the Royal but Greta seemed disturbed after her encounter. She traveled by bus into the nicer parts of the city but nobody was hiring.

So she had to return to her small empty apartment. There was nothing in the room except a bed and suitcase that contained all of her belongings. While sitting on the bed she wondered if she could pay rent a little late. And now here she was in a black out.
Then the phone rang.

“Dad,”

“Margret,” he responded shortly.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Listen, I have to move in by next week.”

“What! Next week! Dad, no! I just got fired for too many sick days and I have…”

“And you think I want to move into your stink hole town and that piece of crap apartment. And with your amount of success, ha. Don’t think I want to come live with you.”

“Now wait a minute. You told me John…”

“What about John? Huh? He’s not about to let me near his house. Trust me, his place and company is ten times yours. I’m going to be in by next week and you had better be ready.”

“You told me at least a month and there is no way I will have you coming over and screwing everything up. I need time to get everything together for your impossible standards.”

“Well, it won’t be a month so get ready.”

Margret was livid with anger when the old man hung up. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, her fights with her father. They had never really gotten along well. But this time there was going to be action. She couldn’t imagine living with her new roommate.

She stood and opened the curtains to her window, trying to let in some sort of light. On the street she could see Felix’s shadow glide on the sidewalk and into his tunnel. She needed to let off steam.

“Lets go, Mazurka.” The large dog grumbled and walked through the open door. Margret slammed it behind her.

Character Sketch

Margret laid in the dark, the shades drawn and the lights out in her small apartment. And yet her head pulsed with pain. She pulled the covers closer to her chin and shivered with sickness. This was a very rare sight to see. Usually she was bright eyed and eager do just about anything. She was young and inexperienced but confident. Margret was never over come with fevers and headaches, but with in her first few weeks in town she had managed to get sick four times. Mazurka propped his large head at the bottom of Margret’s bed, his large ears pinned back and his eyes stared intently on motionless Margret. Concerned about her uncharacteristic behavior, the German Sheppard began to whine and moved closer to his owners face. Margret felt Mazurka’s breath and his slimy wet nose against her hot forehead. “Stop it,” she grumbled and weakly pushed the giant dog away. Margret rolled over, pulled in her knees to her chest and fell back into a restless sleep. Mazurka jumped up beside her, the bed moaned loudly under the weight. He whined one last time, gazed at the girl, and laid down to sleep near Margret.