Flowers for a Skinwalker [I]

“Have you decided what to get?”

The blue-haired woman, huddled on one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, hummed in reply. Realizing she can’t delay making a decision anymore, she stopped gazing at the fire and instead looked at the menu with a dejected sigh.

Albert patiently waited for her to decide. He could see her pausing at almost every page, her brows furrowed in confusion. The young waiter decided to step forward after what seemed like half an hour.

“Miss, would you like a recommendation?”

The woman only looked up with a blank look that indicated she didn’t exactly hear what he said. Albert smiled politely and gestured to the menu.

“Um. Oh… oh! I’m sorry,” she glanced at the menu and back to him, slowly realizing what he was talking about. “I was thinking about something—that doesn’t matter, uh—you were saying?”

“That’s okay,” Albert quickly said, eyes landing on a particular drink in the menu. “Have you ever tried Earl Gray? It’s a black tea variant.”

“I don’t know…” She said almost timidly. “I’ve only ever liked teas made from flowers, like hibiscus…”

“Well, it has bold and citrusy notes of flavor. With a little bit of sugar, I’m sure it will give you a new experience, also,” he met her sorrowful green eyes, “It could take your mind off things?” He finished, making it seem more as a suggestion than unsolicited probing. The woman, contemplating a bit, finally nodded and Albert set off towards the kitchen, taking note to bring the woman some cream puffs if it could alleviate her current mood.

Soon, Albert served her the tea. The woman, Keira, as she called herself, smiled upon taking the first sip. “You were right. This does taste unique,” she was saying, making sure to take in the scent of the brew with an awed expression.

Albert grinned and took his cue, “It did take your mind off things, no?”

Keira glanced at him and nodded, “I just…” She trailed off and quickly scanned the empty café, and relaxed slightly.

“Something wrong, miss?”

“Hah… no, it’s just ridiculous wanting to confide in some stranger… But still,” she nervously gestured towards the empty chairs. “Would you like to hear a little story?”

Albert’s smile grew brighter.

*-*-*-*-*-*

The dark blue dye was wearing off, subtly revealing the browns in the florist’s hair. Keira Moore, thoroughly drained at the end of the day and carrying empty cardboard boxes, huffed when some of the strands got in her face. “Noooooo…” Her dramatic but monosyllabic whine trailed off, reaching no one in particular, and only echoing in the empty flower shop, “That dye was so expensive too… Lilia, you idiot…”

She’d definitely need to have a word with her best friend who convinced her to buy the stupid hair-care brand. But unfortunately, Lilia wasn't in the city until the weekend, so Keira’s complaints will have to wait till then. Secondly, she had much more important things to focus on. Things much precarious than a third-rate hair dye.

Such as: the break-in attempts done over the past few weeks (which had thankfully failed since her husband had installed a robust security system a year ago), the spring festival coming up this weekend, and finally, getting glimpses of her husband hanging around the entrance of the woods every now and then.

The last one won’t so as much be a problem… if it weren’t for the fact that her husband was already dead.

As much as she’d like to think that he may be watching over her, she knew that his appearance isn’t supposed to be that real. It felt too… corporeal. And Keira slowly wondered whether it was due to his death anniversary coming soon, not to mention her sleepless nights leading to it.

Her husband, Richie as she had lovingly called him, was a software engineer and a nature photography hobbyist. To say nature was his hobby would be an understatement. It was his obsession, so one can only imagine that when they had bought the shop building which was located near the local forest, Richie was ecstatic. Almost always bouncing with energy, his fatigue would vanish away the minute he would come home from work, and he would grab the camera (as well as the lunch she prepared for him) and make off into the woods.

Who knew it would be his hobby that would have led to his death? Keira didn’t. She knew him to be stronger than most men; enough to lift her and twirl her around when Keira had gotten her first profit from the shop.

But could he have fought off the robbers that ambushed him in the woods that day?

Keira knew he was too soft for his own good. So, there was her answer—when the police found him sprawled over the grass, with a single bullet hole in his head. Mercilessly shot. His camera gone, and his pockets empty.

She had screamed. For days on end. Repeating the events over and over in her head. Wishing so desperately to turn back time to stop him from going that day. And perhaps, just like her never-ending nightmares, she was starting to see him everywhere she went.

***

“You’re still young, Keira,” Lilia was saying a couple months ago. The same dreaded conversation that made Keira scoff.

“I’m not looking for anyone.”

To which Lilia only wistfully sighed, “Maybe not now… But please focus on yourself. He’s gone. Been almost a year. And you…”

Almost a year. The way her friend dismissed it so easily. It stabbed Keira in the chest and she stood straighter, not daring to crumble down into a crying mess as much as she wanted to.

Memory still vivid as ever, Keira would recall it every chance she’d get; it was last summer, just a couple of months before Richie had got shot. He had caught a cold, and was lying by the window, the sunlight pouring softly over him, and he looked at Keira’s nagging with a serene smile. Ever the romantic he was, he had firmly held her hands, promising her he’ll stay by her till the end of time. Keira, who was just finished with checking his temperature, burst out laughing.

“You absolute goof,” she had giggled, doubling down with more laughter upon seeing him pouting at her.

They had been married for three years. They fought a lot, yes. But the love they kept for each other was in so much abundance, that it made the fights seem stupid. So, just three, measly years. For her, those years meant the whole world to her. And thus she had decided—then and there—that she wouldn’t take a new partner ever again.

But Lilia had been adamant, she always made it a point to remind her that she couldn’t stay like this forever, stuck in time, mourning his death— all the while when everyone else moves on.

All the while the world keeps on revolving. Even without his comforting presence.

***

Keira put the boxes in the storage and shut the door with a sigh. What was she even doing? Perhaps she really needed to take therapy sessions as Lilia had suggested?

Pfft—nah. Considering her funds, did she really have enough to go to a therapist? It was hilarious to even imagine the thought of her lamenting her sorrow over to someone who’d probably worry when she’d mention seeing her dead husband now and then.

The store was now almost dark, and Keira needed to turn on the lights if she wanted to keep on going. However, she decided to cut today short and close for the day; business had been slow and she highly doubted anyone would be coming this late just for flowers. So, she walked over to the front glass door, flipping the sign to closed and turning to re-check the cash register—

Tap.

Tap.

Abruptly, she whipped her head around and froze when her eyes landed on the source of the tapping. Her heart caught in her throat; she met the eyes of Richie standing just outside the glass door.

He had his head tilted, face and hands pressed up to the glass, as if he couldn’t wait to get inside. Keira instinctively knew she was facing an actual problem, because this was not a product of her imagination. Standing a few feet apart, she closed her eyes furiously and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. Then as she slowly opened her eyes, he—no, it was still there. Maintaining eye contact without so much as a blink.

He grinned; the smile wasn’t her husband’s smile. It was too toothy and abnormally wide. It wasn’t human.

Did she… Is this something like a zombie…?

After some seconds of prolonged eye contact, he lowered his hand towards the door handle. Keira flinched but sprang into action and immediately locked, running back to the counter to get the baseball bat she kept for safety. Usually she preferred a gun, but due to hers gone missing, she was just stuck with brute force for now. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, readying her body to swiftly take action.

“Keira, no! It’s me, your beloved!”

The voice was undeniably Richie’s, and it did make her lower the bat a bit. But the tone and choice of words…

“Keira,” the thing posing as Richie said, “You know you shouldn’t be working so late into the night!”

Keira frowned, then pinched herself in case she was dreaming. But the emerging pain told her otherwise, making her feel utterly conflicted; was she supposed to be afraid of a thing posing eerily as her husband, or should she give in to anger and bash the heck out of the goofy smile on his face?

“Who are you?” She asked.

“It’s me!”

“No! Who,” Keira half-shouted, raising her bat again. “Who are you?”

“Me! Your beloved!”

“What???”

“I— I’m your beloved!!!” The impostor yelled with so much sincerity that it creeped out Keira. Richie was known for his fair share of overly-cheesy phrases, but this one was way too ridiculous to consider as a prank. For crying out loud—she had seen his dead body with her own eyes!

“I’ll ask you one last time,” she said, making sure to point her bat in his direction, “Who are you?”

“Keira,” the impostor sighed, “You don’t have to be like that, I can explain—"

“Shut it, you piece of—” Keira’s grip tightened, and ignoring splinters bruising her skin, she made a split-second decision; dashing towards the door and unlocking it, she swung the bat towards his side, hardly giving him any time to react—

“Woah!” The impostor leapt to the side and dodged her swing, ducking under her arm and dashing inside. Keira immediately recovered and lurched after him, successfully managing to grab a hold of his shirt within seconds, making him stop in place.

He nervously turned around, as if knowing she was about to bash his head in, and raised both of his arms in surrender. Keira only raised her bat, choosing instead to break his arms first than his face… That is, until her eyes landed on the arms. One was too slender, almost bony, with thin, long fingernails. The other arm was too bulky to be considered it belonged to Richie’s overall build.

What even…

“Monster…” she mumbled out, even more so horrified when she had first seen him. To which the impostor only gave a mildly surprised look.

“I… You’re right.” He said, gently freeing his shirt from her hold, and looking in her eyes with overwhelming guilt. “I’m not him. But I knew him.”

“Wh— you knew him—”

“Yes, and he was one of the warmest friends I ever got the chance to meet.”

Keira's look was of disbelief. What did Richie do to befriend an alien?