Chapter 3: Golems and Zombies

Carla comes to terms with her new body.

From the Journals of Demitri S. Fubu: Exploits of a Dead Woman

 

Chapter 3: Golems and Zombies

 

Time is a thing, even when you’re dead; as is personality.  A “person” who was impatient in life, tends to be quite impatient in death.  Carla hadn’t realized just how impatient a person she had been during life.  But, being locked up in a marble that’s dropped into a bag and, if she was correct (and she was) shoved into a drawer has a way of testing one’s patience.  Unfortunately, Carla’s patience had been spent after about three minutes following her fantastic rant about John Stamos.

 

In her life, Carla was of the conviction that she was a very patient person.  She had no problem waiting for her daily cup of noodles to get soggy before consuming said noodles; but not the cup.  She had no problem waiting for the latest video game she’d purchased to download and install or for the newest gadget she’d purchased off of e-bay to arrive at her doorstep.  She even took the time to read through at least twenty five percent of the daily way too many messages she received on online dating sites before not responding to any, ever.

 

Now, if you’re wondering how she met Hough by never responding to online dating site messages and never going out, too bad.  I’m not going to tell you how… Yet.

 

Yes, in her life, Carla Quinn was never impatient about anything.  How this could have been the case if in her death, she couldn’t go three minutes of silence without having a slightly over-dramatic boredom induced breakdown?

 

I think you know the answer to that question already so I’m not going to answer it.  If!!!  (eef) …you don’t know the answer to the question and you absolutely must know, I suggest asking a friend who is smarter or more clever than you to read this book and tell you.  Or!!!! (oar) …Google it.

 

Now, after being locked in a marble within a leather pouch that was shoved into a desk for who knows how long, Carla Quinn had given up on life.  After life…  Life after life?

 

She tried to yell and kick and scream and roll around her marble like a hamster ball for what the hooded winged mystery man told her was approximately half an hour and she believed to be at least a decade.  And I know what you’re thinking, but that just isn’t the case.  Ghosts perceive time the same as living people do.  Carla Quinn, was just being a brat.

 

Now, at the end of these thirty minutes, the winged mystery man removed Carla’s Pouch from the drawer and removed Carla’s marble from the pouch.  As he did this, he spoke to her.

 

“I’m removing your pouch from the drawer,” he said.  “And now I’m removing your marble from the pouch.”

 

“Don’t lie to me!” Carla argued.  “I can’t see a thing!!!”

 

“That’s because you’re trapped inside a black marble.”  

This was a very good point.  Had the winged hooded mystery man coerced the ghost of Carla Quinn into a clear marble, she absolutely would have been able to see outside of it.  What a jerk.  

“I’m going to install you into a golem for the time being,” the hooded winged man said.  “Please do not panic at what you see.”

 

And so, the winged man took Carla’s onyx marble and installed it into a toy-like, red clay golem that he’d crafted himself.  It was an odd feeling for Carla who had been without a body for a little over an hour at this point.  Now, the feeling wasn't odd because she’d gotten used to not having a body.  It was odd because she was used to having a soft, curvy body.  This body was hard and edgy.  Looking at herself in the new body that the winged hooded man had placed just before a mirror, Carla couldn't help but to be a bit underwhelmed by his craftsmanship.

 

She was quite literally constructed of clay blocks that were jointed together with hanger wire.  There were six blocks and nine lengths of wire in total that made up her entire temporary body.  She had one block that was her head, one block that was her torso and one block for each hand and foot.  Each of these blocks was of equal size, so you can imagine she was quite awkward.  She also had one short length of wire that was her neck, and two lengths of wire that jointed together like elbows or knees to connect each hand and foot to her body.  As sadly simple as this design was, Carla could see " on closer inspection " that the winged hooded mystery man wasn't completely devoid of the ability to make nice things.  The runes that covered the blocks that made up her clay body were immaculate.  And, at very least, he made the better choice of slotting the head for the marble that contained her soul than her torso.  That would have just been odd.

 

Considering what Carla had been through in the past hour (decade, as far as she would tell it) or so, this wasn't bad at all.  In fact, it was an improvement.  Carla had no idea why he told her not to panic.  This wasn't panic worthy at all!

 

“This isn't so bad,” Carla said as she posed for herself in the little mirror on the table.  “In fact… It’s kind of neat!”  She clicked her “hands” together, making the sound of well… rocks hitting each other and giggled.  “And I have a voice!  I have a voice, right?  I’m not just… ghost talking?”

 

“You have a voice, yes.”

 

“And I can hear and I can,” she turned to look up at the hooded winged man, “Wow!  I can see!”

 

The hooded winged man was no longer hooded.  He still wore the same robes he’d been wearing, but he’d - at this point - taken the hood off.  Finally getting a chance to take a good look at the hooded man made Carla realize a few things.  First of all she was no more than six inches tall.  He could have still had the hood on for her to notice this.  But, there it was.  The second thing that she noticed was that he had a horn coming out of his forehead; a big, black, curved, horn;  like that of a Rhino, but polished and shiny.  Finally, she realized the fact that the no longer hooded winged man was freaking gorgeous!

 

He was all kinds of bright green eyed, tanned skin, flowing long black hair with a chiseled jaw and somehow pouty but stern lipped almost made her forget who John Stamos was probably demon, MAN.  Why this mattered to her when she was both dead and clay, she didn't know.  Nor, after about ten seconds of noticing this, did she care. 

 

Why would she stop caring about this, you ask?

 

Well…  While six-inch-tall-clay-golem-Carla-Quinn was ogling the no longer hooded but instead horned gorgeous mystery man, Carla Quinn’s body - though not necessarily her head - was serving him tea with her left hand.  And Carla Quinn, was right handed.  Carefully cradled within the nook of the right arm of Carla Quinn’s body was her head.

 

“Your tea is ready,” it said in Carla’s own monotonous voice.

 

“Ah, Thank you,” the un-hooded, handsome, horned mystery man replied as he took the tea from her body.

 

Carla Panicked.

Author's Note

If there are typos and this is the last available chapter, it's because I haven't proof read it yet. If there are typos and more chapters, they're probably on purpose... Probably.