The Clock that Raised the Dead

Short Story by Brent Morales (submitted for his CW 10 class)

Before Mei died, she always told Aria one thing: to never go digging in the palace garden. That made no sense. Aria couldn’t play in the garden. She couldn’t sleep on the grass or pluck herbs from the greenhouse. If she ever dirtied her robes–smudged it with mud and powdered it with fertilizer–Aria would never hear the end of it from her father.

“You must look prim and tidy at all times. This is unacceptable before our guests,” her old man would say through gritted teeth. Aria’s jade robes and Mei’s silver dress must gleam and shine like jewels. Aria’s brown curls should be silky and combed while Mei had it easier with her braided black hair.

The rules haven’t changed for the last five years. Now, Aria was eighteen and Mei was twenty — forever twenty. They knew better than to annoy their father, so why would Mei warn her so much?

Aria didn’t bother to try answering that, until she heard the ticking.

Aria walked by the edge of the garden, next to the stone walls of the palace, when she found Miss Fran, kneeling next to a bed of white lilacs with a trowel in hand.

“Oh, Miss Aria, please don’t come any closer. It’s messy here,” Miss Fran, the twenty-five year old live-in gardener, said as she pushed soil into a small pit next to the bed of lilacs. Freshly shoveled dirt peppered the area. Even the lilacs’ white were tarnished with specks of brown.

“Burying something?” Aria asked.

“Oh, no. Dug something up, rather.” In Miss Fran’s other hand lay a ticking metallic device: a clock but much smaller than any Aria had seen — just bigger than her thumb. It was connected to a metallic band…or belt…or strap.

“I bet this belonged to Miss Mei,” Miss Fran said.

“How so?” Aria asked.

Miss Fran chuckled as she stood up. “You might not know because you barely entered her room before she passed away, but Mei likes to keep a bunch of oddities. She had a book written by a certain ‘Margaret Atwood,’ but I’ve never heard of such an author. I also once saw her fiddling with a small…box. She called it a…uhh… a ‘smortfon,’ or something like that. And it lit up a lot… Ah — she told me to keep these things a secret, especially from your father.”

“May I have that?” Aria asked, pointing at the odd clock, and Miss Fran gave it to her.

Aria kept up appearances until nightfall. She had tea with a merchant from the Ottoman Empire and reviewed the mail from mayors directed to her father. They were the type of events that made Aria want to sleep a few more hours instead of starting the day.

Midnight came. The palace lay silent, spare for the idle chatter of night patrol guards. Aria reached under her pillow and took out the odd clock. Out of sheer curiosity, she wrapped the odd clock’s belt around her wrist — Tickticktickticktick.

The hands of the clock sped up. One revolution was one second. A gust of wind swept Aria’s face. Her vision dimmed, and the world went black.

After a beat, her eyes flung open, and she found herself in a different room. She was sitting on what looked like a chair made of soft navy cushions, with her feet on a black carpet. To her right was a cabinet, and on top of it were framed photographs of two girls. The girls looked exactly like Aria and Mei. Her brown curls and her plump cheeks…Mei’s jade eyes and braided hair…They were unmistakable.

Aria looked to her left and found a woman staring at her, jaw dropped, eyes wide like she’d seen a ghost… and she looked exactly like Mei.

“Umm — ” Aria started, her heart pounding with dread.

The woman’s eyes darted to the odd clock on Aria’s wrist and said, “You’re the other Aria…but…the other Mei…Are you Aria Islavo from 1770?”

“Y-yes…” Aria replied, though she didn’t quite understand what she meant by ‘from 1770.’ The year was 1770. You couldn’t be ‘from’ 1770.

“Oh.” The woman sighed and looked back at Aria. “Please don’t be scared. My name is Mei Lorca. I’m a reincarnation of your sister,” she frowned, as if realizing just how stupid she sounded, “and it’s the year 2023. You got here by using that wristwatch.”

“What?” Aria muttered.

“The wristwatch.” Reincarnated-Mei pointed at the odd clock on Aria’s wrist. As if on cue, Aria’s vision blacked. When she woke, she found herself back on her own bed.

Come back tomorrow, said a voice in her head that disappeared as quickly as it came…

The day after, Aria reached under her pillow at midnight, wore the wristwatch, and let her vision black out. When she opened her eyes, she found herself on the same plush sofa with feet on the same black carpet. A beat later, reincarnated-Mei peeked out from a door to the left.

“You came back! I made dinner too,” she said with a big smile before leaving.

When Mei smiled, Aria felt a pang in her chest, a jolt as her lips tightened. That was the face of a girl she saw in a coffin just a week ago. And she was smiling again.

Aria didn’t quite know how to move. She couldn’t tell herself that she fully believed in ‘reincarnation,’ however, it was the only realistic explanation…if you could call it realistic. She couldn’t tell herself that she completely trusted this other Mei, and the voice she heard upon returning to her time left a chill down her spine. But it pulled her. The wristwatch begged for her attention, because in it lies a world where her sister was still alive.

Aria wobbled into the kitchen, a small room with white walls. Cauldrons, pots, and ladles hung from the walls, and a two-seater dining table stood at the center. Mei stood in front of the stove, stirring something in the pot. Aria took a seat at Mei’s request, and Mei brought the food over — chunks of beef covered in a thick red sauce.

“Here, it’s called kaldereta. Though, I know it doesn’t exist where you’re from,” Mei said. “Your Mei didn’t talk about what you ate — uhh — back at home, butthisisgoodtoo!”

She sounded like Mei and talked exactly like her too. The way she rushed her words when she’s excited, as if someone was snatching them out of her mouth…how she mmm-ed after a bite of kaldereta — identical to when 1770 Mei first tried their mother’s roast pork belly.

After dinner, they sat on the sofa and Mei talked about her life, and Aria couldn’t help but compare Mei to her late sister.

Mei belonged to a Fencing varsity team, and 1770 Mei loved swordplay so much that she frequently dueled with visiting knights.

Mei kept a vase of purple tulips because it was her favorite color, and 1770 Mei liked the purple saffrons for the same reason.

Mei tended to cut classes to go to a nearby mall while 1770 Mei had repeatedly skirted royal ceremonies to eat at new restaurants and cafes in neighboring towns.

“I’ve met your Mei too! Many times actually,” Mei said. “The first time we met was…horrifying…” She laughed. “But she just looked so much like me, we couldn’t help it. Oh and she really liked my kaldereta, that’s why I served it today.” For a second, Mei’s smile became tight. “But then she stopped coming for the past six months, and you showed up. How is she doing?”

“Oh…uh…she’s no longer — ”

“Ah, I see, and I was hoping…”

Aria tilted her head in wonder. “You knew?”

Mei looked up, eyes slightly startled. “Oh! Well…someone told me…”

A split second later, Aria’s vision went black and she found herself back in 1770 sitting on her own bed.

“Please stay a bit longer,” the unknown voice said at the back of her mind.

Are you the one who told her about Mei’s death? Aria tried to ask the voice, but no response came.

No use prying then…

Aria tucked herself into her blanket, and up until the moment she slept, all she thought of was how it felt like her sister never left.

Over the next month, Aria came back multiple times. Mei took her to the mall and introduced her to fashion. They tried on parkas, windbreakers, dresses, and high heels. When Aria tried on an olive green A-line dress, Mei had sung her name in a tune, clearly pleased. Aria couldn’t help but smile. When she first wore her ceremonial robes, her own Mei had also sung her name.

They lined up at the cashier, and Aria noticed Mei pull at her right earlobe.

“What are you so worried about?” Aria asked instantly. “My Mei usually tugged at her ear whenever she’s nervous or worried. She always did it before ceremonial presentations.”

“Ah…I guess we really are the same,” Mei said sheepishly with a shy grin. “I was just…wondering if you were enjoying your time here. But I guess… my Aria was also a bit quiet, like you.”

“Where is this time’s Aria?” Aria asked.

“She passed away a few weeks ago. But let’s…not think about that right now. You’re here…after all,” she muttered.

The words rattled in Aria’s head like a game of ping pong. She wondered if Mei ever saw her as a replacement, of sorts. Her chest clenched at the thought.

“Mei?” a voice called out. Aria turned to see a woman who looked like Miss Fran.

“France!” Mei smiled as the two girls hugged. France looked at Aria, and her smile faded. A small frown and knit brows settled across her face.

“My sister, Aria,” Mei said, giving her a wide smile.

“Right,” France said flatly. “Ah–I forgot, I need to order some take-out. I’ll be going now,” she said before she left in a hurry.

Aria’s eyes followed France’s shrinking figure. Did France know about 2023 Aria’s death? Was she at the funeral?

What did she think of when she saw me?

“I can’t stay here, Mei,” Aria muttered.

“We’ll figure something out,” Mei said.

They were not the words Aria wanted to hear.

At the end of the day, Aria came back to 1770, back on her bed.

“Let me show you something,” the unknown voice said, and an image appeared in Aria’s mind. She found herself in a white room, and at its center was a single bed. Laying on it, tucked beneath its blankets, was a woman in a white dress, the kind patients wore when they were sick and bedridden. To her right was a small TV showing zigzagged green lines.

A hospital? Aria thought, recognizing the scene from one of the movies Mei showed her.

Sitting next to the sick woman was Mei. Her shoulders were stiff, her head bowed, and tears fell uncontrollably as fits of whimpers escaped her lips.

“Aria…” Mei muttered. Only then did Aria recognize that the woman on the bed looked exactly like her.

No, not exactly. Dark circles lay under her eyes, and her cheeks were not as plump. They looked almost deflated.

“This is why I need you,” the unknown voice said before the image disappeared from Aria’s mind.

The next night, Aria visited 2023.

“Aria!” Mei squealed as she raised a black blouse to Aria’s face. “It looks good, right? I bought it on a whim ’cause I think it’ll look good on you.”

Aria chuckled. “Isn’t that the fifth piece of clothing you bought me by now? It’s not like I need that much. I don’t stay here for very long.”

Mei pouted. “But eventually, you’ll live here, you know? I’ll need to buy more starting from now.”

Live here? Aria never even considered the idea.

“And we’ll have to meet mom and dad soon.”

“Waitwaitwait…Mei, have you forgotten about what happened with France? I’m not your real sister. You aren’t going to tell them Aria just came back from the dead, are you?.”

“We get to decide what’s real and not real. You look real enough to me.” Mei smiled.

“That is not what I meant.” But Mei ignored her as she folded the newly bought blouse and tucked it into a cabinet.

“We should go on a trip sometime too. How about a week in Japan?”

“Mei…I can’t be away from home that long.”

“Just tell them you’re going on a business trip or something!”

Aria sighed. She unclasped the time-traveling wristwatch and found herself back in 1770.

“Why did you leave?” the unknown voice said with a stern edge, but Aria ignored it.

She ambled aimlessly down the staircase as Mei’s words circled her ears like sharks. Eventually, she found herself in the garden. Encircled by saffrons and roses was a tombstone that read:

1750–1770

Mei Islavo

Whenever Aria stood in front of her sister’s tombstone, she missed Mei. She wanted to see Mei walking again in the garden, sniffing the saffrons and painting images of them on a canvas. She wanted to feel the warmth of Mei’s hugs and the ring of her voice when she recited poems to guests. It was this wanting that accompanied Aria’s tears at the night of the funeral.

That wanting felt so distant now. Has Aria moved on from the grief of loss? No, that’s not quite it. Rather, she felt a spark of disbelief. Disbelief that her sister is dead because how can you believe Mei is dead when you were just standing right next to her, talking to her, and laughing with her. The moments with Mei from 2023…they just felt so real.

Eventually, you’ll live here…We get to decide what’s real and not real. You look real enough to me.

Mei’s words were tangled in Aria’s mind.

“You look real to me too, Mei,” Aria muttered. “But you’re not my sister.”

The next night, she slipped on the wristwatch and had dinner with Mei. Once they finished, Aria asked, “Where did this wristwatch even come from?”

Mei frowned. “Oh, some guy was selling it to me on Halloween. He called it a clock that raised the dead. I didn’t think he’d be telling the truth.”

“And what did it cost you?”

“Not money. He just wanted my name…and said something about putting a piece of my soul into the wristwatch so that it called people close to me. Sounds dumb, right?”

Aria sighed. It did sound dumb, but after everything that happened, it sounded true.

“Is something wrong?” Mei asked.

“This will be my last time here,” Aria replied.

Mei frowned. “But why?”

But why?

Aria froze. In her head, the mysterious voice had spoken simultaneously with Mei.

“Aren’t we fine as we are?” said Mei.

Aren’t we fine as are?

“Mei, we’re not siblings. We might resemble our siblings, but we’re not them. I can’t replace your Aria.” And I don’t want you to replace my Mei, she thought.

“But why not?” Mei’s voice trembled with a sternness Aria knew quite well. “It doesn’t matter.”

But why not? It doesn’t matter, said the voice in her head, almost as loud as Mei.

“It does matter,” Aria said. “Have you visited your Aria recently?”

Mei scowled. “No, and I don’t need to — ”

“Yes, you do!” Aria shouted.

Mei scowled. “Go home. We’re meeting mom and dad tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“Are you still on about that?” Aria yelled. “Didn’t I tell you–”

“We can make it real!” Tears welled in Mei’s eyes. “Don’t you want that? I can be your sister, and you can be mine. We get a redo that no one can ever give us again!”

But Aria was done listening. She unclasped the wristwatch. The world dimmed, and she found herself back in her room at 1770.

Don’t go! The voice in her head shouted, but Aria was already out of her room, storming down the steps. She took Miss Fran’s hammer from the carpentry shed, went out to the garden, and placed the watch on the ground.

IF YOU BREAK ME, YOU’LL NEVER SEE YOUR SISTER AGAIN! The voice shouted, and Aria brought down the hammer as the wristwatch shattered, splitting into gears and hands.

“Are you okay, Miss Aria?” Miss Fran called from behind her. “I heard you shouting — ”

“Please, take this away,” Aria said pointing at the broken wristwatch on the ground.

Miss Fran hesitated before nodding and immediately swept the mechanical parts away into a basket and placed it on top of the trash bin. She came back to the garden to find Aria facing Mei’s grave and called out to her.

“I am fine, Miss Fran.” Aria sighed, thinking of the face of the sister she knew. The Mei from 1770. The Mei who held ceremonies in gold and white robes. The Mei who learned how to cook their mother’s pork belly. The Mei who kissed Aria on the head while Mei was bedridden in the nursery.

“I just want to be with my sister for a little longer,” Aria said.

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