Jinxed Things Ringing

"So here we are," I smile up at Roger. It was a regular day after school and he wanted to drop me off at home. I lived in the town of Kingston, a town north of Plymouth; whereas Roger lived in the outskirts of Carver, a town east of Plymouth.

"So it seems," Roger laughs.

"You really didn't have to.." I trailed off.

"Nah, I didn't," Roger shrugged. "But I wanted to," Roger smiled lifting our linked hands up and examining them.

At that moment the front doors of my home had flew open, to reveal a very chipper ghost.

"HEY GUYS!" Brendon squealed. Roger still didn't know the truth about Brendon.

"Hey man..." Roger replied nonchalantly. I discreetly unlaced our fingers. "Uhmm...from the party, right?"

"Right! Dude...buddy...bro," Brendon said each name in a different voice. Roger laughed uneasily.

"So, I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Roger turned to me. I shrugged.

"Sure,"

"Mkay, later," Roger said pecking me on the lips and then turning to walk away from our property. I sighed happily and entered the open door while Brendon just stood there with a sour look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked removing my scarf and placing it in the coat closet. Winter was approaching fast and I wasn't prepared for snow, but Jack Frost had no intention of delaying his visit.

Brendon shrugged and sighed dramatically. I laughed at his face and rolled my eyes. Brendon didn't say anything, but I slowly realized that he became solemn.

"Bren," my demeanor instantly softened as I wanted to do nothing but reach out to my friend.

My friend. That term is constantly thrown around. Hi, I'm Jane and this is my friend Tim. But in reality Tim is only someone I met at the bar after I got in a fight with my husband about the jello our cat decided to eat.

"Jello?" Brendon looked up with confusion.

But I digress.

"Never mind," I shook my head. "Tell me what's wrong Bren,"

Brendon looked up at me and with a pained face said, "I died today."

"Well there's something to tell the kids,"



"So here's me," Brendon said finally stopping in front of a patch of grass and what looked like a poorly carved tombstone.

I feel awkward saying this, but essentially here it is: My backyard is a graveyard.

Unfortunately that is not a metaphor or any type of quirky saying. Evergreen Cemetery is my backyard. It is lonely cemetery unfortunately because of the home's infamous reputation.

My breathing became heavy and my stomach started to churn. Just in time I turned around, fell to my knees, and emptied my stomach's contents.

"Whooo," Brendon whistled as he kicked his tombstone. I spluttered out the last of the acid and coughed at it's sting, my stomach not failing to die down it's anxiety. My heart started pumping fast as I turned to look at the patch of grass. Brendon was underneath there. I tried to open my mouth but words didn't come out. It was too unreal. I crossed my legs Indian style and let my head rest in my hands that were propped up on my knees.

"It's okay. Jared was a jackass anyways," Brendon shrugged. I realized that I had vomited onto someone else's lonely resting place.

"There are others?" I gasped through the bitter taste. He nodded.

"Oh yeah. Loads. Jared was a fucking prick though. I'm glad you did that there. I was hoping someone would," Brendon smirked looking at the messy grass. I looked back at Brendon's patch of grass.

"How," I finally asked.

"I was murdered," he said simply.

My head became very dizzy and suddenly I felt paranoid. I turned around and look around me but saw nothing but the vast ocean of white headstones, grass, and willow trees.

"Genviève, it was over twenty years ago. Calm down," Brendon chuckled. I shook my head.

"I'm sorry. This is just all so overwhelming," I say now realizing how much pain Brendon was in when he broke down. "Tell me everything,"

"Are you sure?" Brendon asked. I slowly nodded. "Well...it was a curse,"

"Bren," I sighed.

"No! Hear me out. I use to be in this band. We were Panic! At the Disco-" Brendon started. Unfortunately my shoe didn't reach my mouth in time, because I was laughing like some crazy bi-polar chick.

"Shut up. It's catchy.." Brendon mumbled.

"Okay, okay," I finally calmed down.

"Well, I guess I should tell you first...I'm not from here. I'm from Vegas," Brendon said to me. I raised my eyebrows in amusement. "Born 'n' raised in good 'ole Nevada," Brendon said proudly in a southern accent.

"So I was back home from touring and what not and just like any other band member, I had fans," Brendon stated. "But there was this one girl who became a little too much for me to handle and things got carried away. We had to get involved in court and then finally a restraining order on her from the band," Brendon shook his head.

"Somehow she followed us on one of our line-up tours and we made it to a little town in Boston,"

"Plymouth," I breathed allowing myself getting sucked into his story.

"She caught up to us and went psycho...we had to break it down for her slowly before she could do anything drastic, while we were waiting for security. She completely lost it..." Brendon said as he stared at the ground as if he were remembering that day. "I'll never forget how she screamed when she was dragged off,"

"What did she say?" I prodded.

"She said...and I quote, 'I'll love you 'till the end'," Brendon said numbly.

"Oh my God," I said covering my mouth thinking how morbid this girl was.

"So she was taken back I suppose. But we received news that she commit suicide, and not long after that we also got a mysterious letter. Apparently it was sent the same day of her death. The lawyers say she must have sent it before she pulled the plug,"

"How..." I choked. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, but I asked anyways. "How'd she...do it?"

"Slit her wrists," Brendon said. "There was blood on that letter she sent. Apparently it wasn't quick enough so she slit her own throat," Brendon replied.

I shudder and covered my face with my hands. I moaned with sickness.

"So how does this tie into your death?" I asked.

"Well, the letter was a hysterical note about the love that was bonded between her and some crazy stuff. Legend has it, since her blood was spilled on the letter, it was a curse. And that is the death of Brendon Urie," Brendon said with a crazy grin. I shook my head.

"Do you know where the letter is?" I asked. He shook his head.

"I'm surprised I even remember half the stuff I told you. It's been a while," Brendon sighed.

"Well why are you still here, if you don't mind me asking," I inquired. Brendon saddened.

"That's the upsetting part. I have no clue. I mean...if anything, it probably has to do with the curse. Which is on the letter. Which I have no clue where it is," Brendon grumbled.

"Well...there's probably a clue or something on how to get you...where ever you're suppose to go," I said.

"I hope so," Brendon looked up to the sky and wearily said, "I'm tired Genviève. I can't go on living like this,"

I felt faint.

"Bren," I muttered, pushing my fingers to my forehead.

"Let's walk. Get some air," Brendon offered. We both stood up walked farther away from my house and into the cemetery. As we walked further in, I realized the burial places were getting nicer. I told Brendon this.

"Yeah," He said. "My death was sort of...different and since this wasn't my birth town and nobody really knew who I was- I kind of got the cruddy spot in the back of the cemetery. The very back is the closest to your backyard," He said. I nodded. It made sense that he was haunting our house after all.

We finally got to the entrance of the cemetery.

"The gates," I noticed. "Are so rusty...this is abandoned?" I asked. Brendon nodded. We walked outside the cemetery property onto an empty road. Across the road were many offices.

"Are they abandoned too?" I asked in shock. Brendon nodded. "Bren!"

"No! It's not my fault. This was just something that had happened. I have no clue why. I think there was some sort of disaster here so they cleared out and nobody came back in," Brendon informed me.

"There aren't...like...homeless people in there, are there?" I asked nervously. I was always iffy about going near abandoned places. It was a bum's ideal place to hang out.

"That's...a good question," Brendon pondered.

"You've never been in there?" I asked and he shook his head.

"Didn't seem so interesting," Brendon shrugged. "Want to go in?"

"Yeah...but if there's some crazy hobo, I'm not too excited," I winced.

"Next time," Brendon reassured me. I nodded as we walked all the way to the far end of the cemetery, where my backyard was.

I subtly passed glances at Brendon. I never noticed how his eyes sagged. Even though he was dead, he looked so tired. So worn out. He wanted to be put out of his misery. He needed to go to his next life.

What was going through my head?

I was going to get Brendon to his next life...