After death do we part, p.1
After Death Do We Part, page 1
After Death Do We Part
The Deadly Matrimony Quartet Part One
Qatarina Wanders
Wandering Words Media
Copyright © 2023 by Qatarina Wanders, Wandering Words Media
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Edited by K.E. Koontz
Cover design by Sanja Balan at Sanja's Covers
Contents
1. Wedding Dolls
2. Wedding Talk
3. Hair Chewing & Bees
4. Synagogue Soiree
5. The Tisch
6. Till Death...
7. Sitting Sheva
8. Pitch-Black Awakening
9. Animal Healing
10. Midnight Flicker
11. Grounded in Gehinnom
12. Poisonous Garden
13. Name Beyond Life
14. Somber Carnival
15. Urgent Request
16. Creatures of the Dark
17. The Eternal Professional
18. Ruth's Revelations
19. Loneliness Echoes
20. Demanding the Dead
21. Creature Companions
22. Uneasy Simulacrum
23. Aunt Maggie's Fate
24. Proposal Out of Place
25. Soul Level
26. Overexposure
27. Lies and Simulacra
28. Dark Peace
29. Nightmare Screams
30. Haunting Pressure
31. Invasion of the Darklings
32. Freeing the Frozen Fairies
1
Wedding Dolls
At fifteen, Ruth Abadi believed that dolls were a thing of childhood. Yet, the imploring, soulful brown eyes of her little sister were hard to resist.
“Please?” Tovah beckoned, presenting the well-worn off-brand Ken doll, her delicate fingers clasping its plastic form. “Just one game.”
With a sigh of acquiescence, Ruth agreed. “Alright, one game.”
Following the excited lead of her younger sister, she ventured into their cozy shared playroom. The golden hue of late afternoon sunlight bathed the room, illuminating patches of the pristine white-tiled floor. In a cozy corner, Tovah had meticulously arranged a striking blue and black mosaic rug, setting the stage for a toy wedding. The non-branded Barbie was elegantly draped in a homespun white dress. Though the stitching was novice, it was a testament to Ruth's fledgling sewing skills. She found it endearing.
Tovah settled down, her vivid pink skirt cascading around her. Flicking her dark, lustrous braids back, she gingerly picked up the female doll. After a contemplative pause, she named her, “Amara.”
“Amara? Quite the choice,” Ruth observed, nestling next to Tovah. The ten-year age chasm between them often felt fluid. Tovah's spirit was enigmatic; some days she was introspective, a silent observer, while on others, she possessed a maturity that seemed to surpass her age. Today, there was a harmonious blend of both facets, and Ruth relished these moments.
Extending the male doll, she posed a question, “And his name?”
Without hesitation, Tovah shared, “Nathaniel.”
“Nathaniel, intriguing choice. Though his fiancée likely shortens it to Nate, no?”
With a resolute shake of her head, Tovah countered, “Never.”
Suppressing her chuckles, Ruth's curiosity piqued, “Any particular reason?”
“His brother's name happens to be Nate,” Tovah elucidated with earnest clarity. “Imagine the confusion.”
A burst of laughter escaped Ruth, evoking a mock stern expression on Tovah's face, reminiscent of their father's disapproving glare.
“What's so funny?” Tovah probed.
In jest, Ruth elucidated, “I just envisioned Amara professing, 'I love you, Nate,' leaving both brothers confused.”
Yet, Tovah, unimpressed, rolled her eyes playfully. "Her husband is Nathaniel, remember?”
“Ah, my mistake,” Ruth admitted, waving it off lightheartedly.
Positioning herself snugly next to Tovah, the duo immersed themselves in their make-believe wedding—a favorite theme of their play sessions. Tovah harbored an affection for weddings: the ethereal gowns, the vibrant crimson roses, and the enchanting promise of love.
Ruth, on the other hand, harbored doubts. Did love, the eternal kind, truly exist? Especially in the enduring sense that a wedding vowed?
Their own family was proof of love's complexities. Their father, bearing the scars of both a divorcee and a widow, always seemed enveloped in a melancholic shroud. Tovah’s mother had died suddenly, while Ruth’s biological mother was just gone--whereabouts unknown.
Despite the heartache, the pangs of longing for her mother lingered in Ruth.
These emotional whirlwinds, accompanied by many tear-streaked nights, made Ruth ponder whether weddings were perhaps best left to playful fantasies like this.
Games of pretend.
Within this whirlpool of sentiments, Ruth found solace in these playtimes with Tovah. Here, weddings transformed into enchanting tales, infused with their own delightful quirks.
As their dolls shared a playful embrace, Tovah gleefully declared, “Now comes the murder!”
Ruth erupted in a fit of giggles, though she had somewhat anticipated the dramatic turn. “A wedding murder mystery?”
True, dolls typically catered to the younger lot, but Tovah was an exception. Her imaginative play ranged from adventurous escapades to tantalizing mysteries. Ruth had a sneaking suspicion that their babysitter's penchant for soap operas over cartoons played a part. Yet, she wouldn't alter a thing; this dramatic play was far more thrilling than mundane make-believe.
Perhaps, in some twist of fate, Ruth might experience a genuine Ken and Barbie wedding, unlike this fanciful imitation—hopefully sans the murder twist.
2
Wedding Talk
“Is your wedding going to end with a murder?” Tovah inquired, leaning intently forward and bracing both of her slender arms on the glass-top table of the quaint outdoor cafe where she and her older sister, Ruth, were dining. The Little Prince was, without a doubt, her favorite dining spot in the entire world, ensuring that whenever Ruth took her out, they inevitably ended up here.
Nestled just off Bialek Street, it sat conveniently ten minutes from both Tovah’s and Ruth’s houses, making it their ideal rendezvous point. Now thirteen, Tovah had recently managed to persuade her diligent babysitter, Ghadeer, to grant her a little autonomy outside the home.
Of course, their father, Abba, must remain oblivious to these solo escapades. But, Tovah was exceptionally skilled at keeping such secrets.
“No, it’s not going to end with a murder,” Ruth responded with a playful laugh, her eyes dancing with amusement. “What on earth made you think of that?”
Tovah offered a nonchalant shrug. “When we used to play with dolls together, you’d say that was the perfect way for every wedding to conclude.”
“Well, that was then and this is now.”
“So, what's different?”
“You really think Asher is the murdering type?” Ruth teased, drawing the straw from her chilled almond-milk latte and playfully directing it at Tovah, resulting in a few errant coffee droplets marking the glass table.
She swiftly grabbed a paper napkin, wiping the minor spill away. “No, he’s more like a lovable pet, actually.”
“Like a pet?”
“You know, all big-hearted, friendly, and approachable? Just like our old golden retriever, Goldie,” Tovah elaborated, her mind traveling back to their cherished childhood pet. “Asher has that same kind of vibe.”
Ruth chuckled, clearly entertained. “I can't decide if that's a compliment or a slight.”
“It’s simply an observation,” Tovah responded matter-of-factly, taking another bite of her favorite dish, the cashew quiche.
Across from her, Ruth was enjoying a plate of aromatic shakshuka. Its scent was tempting, and Tovah appreciated the ingredients--the rich tomato sauce, fresh eggs, and an abundance of garlic. Yet, she was always deterred by its messy, sauce-soaked appearance.
“That’s an interesting observation,” Ruth noted with a grin, dipping a slice of her flaky bread into the sauce. “Do you suppose I could train him to fetch the paper in the morning?”
“Doubt it. Boys seem a bit challenging to teach,” Tovah mused. “At least, that’s the impression I got from a teacher at school.”
“Sounds like something she should’ve kept to herself.”
“Oh, she only mentioned it to me.”
Ruth eyed her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Did you skip another outdoor break?”
Tovah evaded the question, swiftly diverting the topic. “Perhaps Asher has a mysterious twin who's smitten with you?”
Ruth laughed, “He has a brother, remember Isaac? He’s—”
“The butcher's apprentice,” Tovah interjected with a dramatic eye-roll. “Yeah, and Abba isn’t his biggest fan.”
“True, but we're not discussing Abba at the moment,” Ruth pointed out. “I believe Isaac would be heartbroken to hear we're concocting murderous tales about him.”
Tovah countered, “I wasn’t referring to him! I meant a different, undisclosed sibling!”
“I highly doubt my wedding will have any murderous undertones,” Ruth affirmed, using her bread to mop up the last remnants of the
Tovah released an exaggerated sigh, but nodded, finishing her quiche and meticulously cleaning her hands with a napkin. “I need to wash up.”
“Of course.” Ruth rose, drained her coffee, and then held Tovah’s hand supportively. Together, they made their way to the restroom. Patiently, Ruth stood by as Tovah meticulously washed her hands in her characteristic thorough routine, ensuring every last crumb was gone and they were immaculately clean.
In the bustling café, the only available hand-drying option was the automatic hand driers. To Tovah, the deafening roar they produced was even more detestable than the uncomfortable sensation of damp hands. She rapidly flung the moisture off her fingers. “So no murder?”
“No murder. But did you know there was a ‘murder’ the day I met Asher?” Ruth replied, her eyes gleaming with playful mischief.
Eyes widening in shock, Tovah responded, “You didn’t tell me that!” As Ruth grasped Tovah’s hand once more, the two sisters ventured out into the bustling street. “Who died?”
“No one,” Ruth chuckled, her laughter melodious. “A group of crows is called a murder, remember?”
“That’s far less intriguing,” Tovah muttered, her disappointment evident. Yet her comment only elicited more laughter from Ruth.
“It might be,” Ruth conceded, “but in its own way, it was quite romantic.”
Holding back an eye roll—a gesture she knew Ruth considered impolite—Tovah mentally braced herself, anticipating the oft-told tale of her sister's chance meeting with Asher.
Unsurprisingly, Ruth began the familiar story. “It was on a weekend, and Abba had tasked me with a visit to the market.” Each time Ruth narrated this account, she infused it with slight variations. Tovah was never certain if Ruth was deliberately embellishing or simply misremembering aspects of the story.
“I remember,” interjected Tovah, “You were procuring ingredients for the upcoming dinner, since our neighbors were joining us for a final meal before their move.”
“That’s right,” Ruth continued, seemingly undaunted by the interruption. “During my market visit, I quite literally bumped into Asher. The collision was so forceful I nearly toppled over, but he steadied me. And Libinke, when our eyes met, I felt an instant connection.”
Ruth's voice grew softer, her expression dreamy.
Tovah silently hoped this fanciful recounting would subside after the imminent wedding ceremony. With the event only three days away, it seemed to dominate every conversation. “And the crows?”
“Yes, I almost forgot,” Ruth said with an amused smile. “After helping me to my feet and finishing our shared shopping, as we prepared to exit the market, we noticed them. A murder of crows, pecking at some discarded bread.”
“That’s it?” Tovah's voice carried a hint of incredulity.
“That's the extent of the 'murder',” Ruth confirmed with a wink.
“I had hoped for something more thrilling,” Tovah mused.
“To me, the intricacies of love are thrilling enough,” Ruth countered. As they rounded a corner, their childhood home appeared before them. Though it once housed both sisters, now only Tovah and Abba resided there. The absence of Ruth's presence made the house seem more silent and somber.
However, at that moment, the silence was shattered by the blaring sound of a television. Ghadeer, engrossed in her favorite soap operas, had cranked up the volume to an almost deafening level. Ruth gently knelt before Tovah, holding her younger sister’s gaze. “In just a few days, I'll see you again. Promise me you'll be on your best behavior?”
Emotion welled up in Tovah's eyes. She tightly embraced Ruth, murmuring, “I miss you.”
Wrapped in the warmth of Ruth's hug, Tovah felt a rush of emotions. “I understand, little love. And I miss you too. But after the wedding, we’ll have more time together,” Ruth reassured.
Tovah was skeptical. Ever since Asher's entrance into Ruth's life, their once-close bond seemed to have waned. Despite her resolve to avoid negative thoughts, Tovah could only manage a simple, “I’ll see you at the wedding,” before turning and ascending the driveway.
She sensed Ruth's lingering gaze but continued onward, retrieving the spare key hidden beneath a familiar rock and stepping inside their home. The resonating sound of the television greeted her as she closed the door behind her. A sigh escaped her lips.
Even in her bedroom, the overpowering volume of the soap opera was inescapable. Gratefully, Tovah reached for the plush headphones, a cherished gift from Ruth. As she donned them, the surrounding clamor faded, replaced by comforting silence.
Reclining on her bed, a mixture of emotions washed over her. While a part of her was genuinely elated for Ruth, she also yearned for the return of their uncomplicated, shared moments.
3
Hair Chewing & Bees
“Ruth, you're nibbling your hair again,” Tilly remarked with a hint of exasperation, reaching over to gently swat at Ruth’s hand. Ruth let go, allowing her lustrous black hair to cascade gracefully down. However, internally, she was a tumult of emotion. Rather than a gentle flutter of butterflies in her stomach, it felt as if a fervent swarm of bees or ravenous flies, attracted to discarded meat, were buzzing within her.
“Sorry,” Ruth murmured distractedly.
With a playful yet stern demeanor, Tilly, her cousin, placed both hands on her hips and retorted, “Don't play that card with me. We both know you're not really sorry.” Pausing for emphasis, she added, “Look, let me style your hair. It'll look breathtaking, and you won’t end up inadvertently eating strands of it in front of everyone.”
Ruth's lips tightened in mild defiance. “I've made it clear. I'm wearing my hair down. How many times have I reiterated that?”
Tilly, looking elegant in her pale rose-gold dress that modestly covered her from shoulders to ankles, seemed a tad irritable throughout the day.
The wedding was envisioned as a blend of tradition and contemporary values—a harmonious amalgamation of familial beliefs. One of the few things Abba had ardently requested was that everyone don modest attire. Given his advancing age, Ruth had willingly obliged.
Her own gown was a testament to this melding: pristine white with a dignified neckline that modestly concealed her cleavage, and sleeves that gracefully extended over the tops of her hands. The dress's lengthy skirt shimmered with silver accents under the light, and her heels bestowed upon her the coveted extra height she always desired.
And she was determined: her hair would remain down.
“I've heard your preference,” Tilly countered, a gentle plea in her eyes. “But reconsidering wouldn't hurt.”
“Tilly,” interjected Aunt Maggie, her American roots evident despite having relocated to Tel Aviv after wedding Uncle Calev nearly fifteen years ago. “Stop bothering Ruth. Your role today is to support, not add to her stress. And Ruth, you're radiating beauty, truly.”
Aunt Maggie, her round face aglow, approached and affectionately clasped Ruth's hands, her verdant eyes, greener than any Ruth had ever encountered, shimmering with emotion.
“Thank you, Aunt Maggie,” replied Ruth, her smile genuine.
Aunt Maggie's response was an ecstatic grin. “I'm in sheer disbelief that you're about to be married.”
Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing Noa, one of the bridesmaids. Her smile, though tinged with anxiety, was infectious. “Ladies, we're on a tight schedule. Precisely seven minutes left. Are we all set in here?”
Not missing a beat, Tilly voiced her opinion once more, “Wouldn't an updo suit her better?”
Aunt Maggie firmly intervened, “Tilly, stop with your persistence. Your own wedding hairstyle can be your choice when you decide to introduce us to a worthy partner.”
Suppressing her amusement at Tilly’s flustered expression, Ruth was thankful for Noa’s timely interruption. “We should proceed. Ruth?”
With an air of calm determination, Ruth assured her, her smile tender, “I’m primed and set. I'll join you in a minute, alright?”
Noa bit her painted-red lower lip, seemingly deep in thought. She appeared hesitant for a moment before exhaling softly and nodding. “Alright, I’ll inform everyone outside. But please, try not to delay too much longer, okay? We’ll be sending your father back soon.”
