O. Creeks

So, here they were. The boy and the Keeper… working together. Against all odds, they’re determined to save themselves. While Owen wants to save himself, Keeper intends to protect the Veil and those who abide in it. For an empty wasteland, it sure is crowded.

That’s precisely what Owen thinks as he moves through the purple sand. He still can’t believe what’s going on. Maybe he’s just in denial, but he struggles to keep in touch with reality. A few hours ago, Keeper almost killed him, but now he’s teamed up with him?

Maybe it’s because if they don’t try, they both could be doomed, or maybe it’s because Owen doesn’t want to be alone when he dies, but he feels the need to be beside Keeper for this. Whatever this is. The boys are anchored to each other, and that’s just their fate.

“We’re almost there.” Keeper sighs as he bends down, shoveling a few handfuls of the purple sand into a small bag.

“Where are we going?” Owen says. He lets an exasperated sigh as he looks back out at the sand. “How can you even tell where we are going? There’s no sun, no stars, nothing!”

“We are going to a portal. Tabborant, your realm, is just beyond those trees.” The Keeper points ahead to the edge of a forest in the distance. “I just know. Everything looks the same, but after being here for as long as I have… you just know.”

The boys continue moving after Keeper puts the pouch of sand in his satchel. Owen can’t help but wonder just how long the Keeper has been here. What exactly is he? Where did he come from if he didn’t come from the Veil?

“Uhm…” Owen tries to start a conversation.

“What?” Keeper doesn’t bat an eye to respond to Owen’s hesitation.

“What are you?” Owen says as he looks up into the sky. Clouds continue to circulate in the air, occasionally casting thunder and striking the ground with lightning.

“I’m The Keeper of souls and the veil.” He responds with a sigh. “That’s all you need to know, and that’s all you’ll ever know.”

“Why are you so rude?” Owen can’t help but laugh at The Keepers’ stubbornness.

“I’m not rude; I act rude. There’s a difference.”

Owen accepts the answer and puts his hands in his pockets. It was nice not to be in the clothes the hospital gave him. Pants, a shirt, pockets… if it weren’t for the fact he was having to fight for his life again, he would be happy. He’ll settle with being content, though.

The boys finally break through the trees and stand in a smaller clearing. The center holds a stone structure, another thing that doesn’t look like it belongs there. The Keeper leads them onto it; it seems like a doorway with patterns carved into the stone.

“Here we are….” Keeper stops, takes his spear, and uses the tip to cut along the palm of his hand.

Owen cringes at the sight but continues to watch as Keeper places his hand on the floor of the stone structure. The blood spills and pours into the engraved pattern as it feeds through the entire structure. Yet, nothing happens.

“Uh-” Owen starts to say something, but Keeper interrupts by grabbing Owen’s hand and holding his spear tip to it. “Hold on!”

“Shut up.” Keeper narrows his eyes at Owen, practically daring him to start protesting. “I need to direct it to your corpse. I’ll be gentle, you fucking baby.”

Before Owen can say anything else, Keeper pricks his finger on the spear. He squeezes blood from the tiny cut and holds it over where he placed his hand. Instead of red blood like The Keepers, it was a glowing blue liquid. As Owen’s blood touches The Keepers, it infects the pattern turning the already existing blood in the carvings the same as Owen’s.

With a strike of lighting hitting the stone structure, the doorway opens.

“Good job.” The Keeper mumbles at Owen sarcastically.

The Keeper takes a quick moment to bandage his hand as he begins to walk towards the portal. Owen follows behind him. As the boys stand together upon the structure, they both feel nervous, and the air feels electric as they stand in front of the glowing portal.

It’s time.

They make it to Owen's realm with one foot in front of the other. Owen is left blinking, momentarily blinded by the sudden LED lights that hang from the ceiling. Owen doesn’t recognize this place, but he immediately knows it.

“The morgue? How long have I been dead?” Owen looks around at the medically clean and bright room.

“Probably a day or two.” The Keeper mumbles as he looks around at the little doors where the bodies are filled away. “It’s funny that these guys are filled in alphabetical order. Oh- there you are!”

The Keeper laughs as he points at a door. A small removable label reads ‘O. Creeks.’ Before Owen can even protest, Keeper opens the small door and pulls the table where Owen’s body lays. Owen feels a wave of strange feelings.

Owen’s dark skin is sunken, and he looks asleep. Blemishes along his skin are genuinely the only visible sign he’s dead. His chest no longer rises and falls. It’s… empty. Of course, it is because Owen stands behind Keeper, looking at his own corpse.

“I hate this,” Owen mumbles and turns around to look at the doors.

“Really? I think this is super cool! When did they manage to make a way to preserve bodies like this?” Keeper whispers to himself.

“Hey, Keeper, someone is-” Owen starts as he watches the door handle turn.

“Excuse me?!” A woman comes in, dressed in scrubs with a white plastic apron on. Her hair is put up, and she wears a face mask. “Young man, what are you doing in here?!”

“Sorry, ma’am-” Owen starts but is interrupted.

“He was just so young….” Keeper mumbles in a sad tone from behind Owen. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I just had to come to see him….”

Ah, that’s right. Keeper is the only one that mortals can see. Owen grumbles and moves over to the side to see them both. He feels gross watching Keeper pretend to cry over his death.

“Oh…” The mortician looks around uncomfortably, obviously not expecting to get this big of an emotional response. “Uhm… well, I technically can’t let you in here. Come with me, and we can get you sorted.”

Keeper wipes away fake tears and nods. He looks back down at Owen’s body and gently brushes Owen’s hair from his face. He clears his throat and follows the woman upstairs to a larger part of the funeral home, and Owen follows behind Keeper.

“Let’s leave….” Owen mumbles to Keeper, who glances back at him. “Blink if that was a yes.”

Keeper glances back at Owen again, this time with a slightly annoyed expression. He hesitates but blinks. The Lady comes back before the Keeper can find the door, though.

“So, how did you know Mr. Creeks?” She smiles and hands Keeper a glass of water.

Keeper sits down as she gestures to a chair, smiles nervously, and glances at Owen. He chuckles and looks at the glass. Owen assumes he’s searching for an excuse.

“Pen Pals.” Keeper laughs softly, trying to play into the role of a grieving friend. “We wrote to one another a lot while he was in the hospital. A few days ago, he wrote that he was getting worse, and I wanted to say my goodbyes in person… but I didn’t make it.”

Keeper lets out a fake sob and covers his mouth. Owen can’t help but laugh at how awkward it was to watch him mourn. It’s not that he was a lousy actor; he was a pretty decent one. Instead, it’s because seeing someone miss him is weird, even if it’s fake.

“Oh… I’m so sorry, dear. Does his family know you’re in town? They didn’t think anyone else would come to see him.” The woman sits across from him and gently rubs Keepers’ arm to soothe the crying boy.

Owen notices him almost breaking character as he goes to remove her hand, but he catches himself. The Keeper gently holds her hand and smiles, once again whipping tears.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to visit them yet.”

“I think they would love to talk to you. They weren’t aware Owen had very many friends, so if you get the chance, they would love to meet you!” The woman pats his hand and stands up. “Anyways, I should probably get back to work. Have a nice night!”

As she disappears behind the corner, Keeper quickly wipes his hands against his pants, obviously disgusted by the touch of a human. Owen realizes the wound on his hand is gone, which is good. Before Owen can say anything, Keeper runs past him and to the door.

“Geez…” Owen grumbles as he follows Keeper into the streets. “Where are we going?”

“Well, as much as I just want to go to the hospital… we need to go see your parents,” Keeper mumbles, trying not to look like he’s talking to himself.

“Why?” Owen raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think I was allowed to interact with them.”

“You won’t be. I will.” The Keeper glances down the street to make sure they’re alone. After seeing that the coast was clear, Keeper spoke more openly. “We can get a good starting place by trying to see who the staff you saw were. After all, if they knew you, they were more likely to use you as their little experiment.”

“Whatever you say,” Owen grumbles. “Why did you need to cry that much? Also, touching my face like you did was absolutely unnecessary.”

“It was funny.” Keeper sighs. “I need to find some better clothes. These make me stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Well, we don’t have cash.” Owen sighs and rubs his eyes. His life is in the hands of someone who manipulates and lies to people because ‘it’s funny.’ They’re doomed.

“I could just steal some.” Keeper yawns as he puts his hands in his coat pockets.

“Absolutely not, Keep!” Owen throws his hands into the air. “We aren’t stealing cash!”

“Not cash, you dumbass! Clothes!” Keeper rolls his eyes. “I know how valuable money is to people at the moment. I know I’m old, but not old enough that poverty isn’t a thing.”

“No, Keeper!” Owen crosses his arms and stops in front of the short man.

“Fine. Whatever. Keep moving.” Keeper looks up at him and crosses his arm. “I’ll just take some of your old clothes from your parent’s house then.”

“Fine.” Owen turns around and keeps walking.

The boys sit in silence for a while. Both irritated and frustrated with the other. Why can’t they see the world through each other’s eyes? Why couldn’t they get along?

“So, where exactly are we?” Keeper asks, finally breaking the thick silence.

“So the tables have turned!” Owen smirks and glares at Keeper.

“Shut the fuck up and answer the damn question.” Keeper glares back. “It’s not too late to kill you.”

“Oh, you would kill your pen pal? After you’ve grieved my death?” Owen smirks and puts his arm around Keeper’s shoulders, teasing him about his earlier excuse.

“Get off me.” Keeper stops in his tracks and stares ahead. “Get. Off. Me.”

“Sorry-” Owen yanks his arm away. “I was just trying to mess with you- are you okay?”

“Just… don’t touch me.” He continues walking, but instead of the frustrated silence they usually walk in, it’s just silence.

“Hey… I am sorry.” Owen tries again but is quickly shut down.

“I don’t care. You didn’t do anything wrong. Shut up and lead the way.” Keeper pulls his hood up, obviously ending the conversation there.

Owen has nothing left to do but does as he’s told. So he walks ahead of the Keeper and leads the way.

“Uhm, just to answer your question… we’re in Oklahoma,” Owen mumbles, only earning a nod from Keeper.

The boys continue to walk. Thank god it’s a small enough town that Owen knows his way home. It’s getting colder; he hopes it’s not going to snow, and it only snows in Oklahoma when it’s inconvenient.