Goodbye Kiss

Callum

I have to hand it to Nina, she put up good fight. For two full days she resisted me and my need to have her work further on the urn. Instead she spent her time looking at a hunk of wood that had been crudely fashioned into a cross by some superstitious fools who blindly thought it could protect them from spirits and evil. At night I seeded her dreams with images of the urn and the idea of some secret only she could find. Finally on the third day she packed up the cross and saved the completed research in the catalogue for the curators. I had gone quiet in her head hoping she would think I had gone, that she had bested me. Finally she turned her attention back to the urn.

Letting out a long sigh, I joined her standing at her side as she picked the ancient piece and turned it round looking at the patterns carved on the outside. To my eyes they just looked like wavy lines, dots and dashes, to her they almost seemed to make sense.

As she turned it upside down to check the bottom, the top of the urn came off in her hands. She gently placed it down on a soft cloth and I resisted the urge to cheer. I angled myself to see inside, to hear the words that spoke to me with an old paper thin voice. Words that were trapped until the urn was opened.

“Utter the words with living lips whilst you kiss them from within.”

I repeated the words silently to myself trying to find their meaning. Why didn’t it say something like place side C next to side B and secure it with bolt C. Why were these things always written in riddles that needed to be solved before you could act on them.

“To keep those who have no business knowing the outcome out of the loop,” Nina answered in a whisper.

I froze, did she realise it was me who asked the question? Would she realise what I needed, pack the piece up and secure it under lock and key to keep it from me? She continued to look the piece over.

“What is it you are trying to saying, I don’t understand. I wish I could just get into the head of whoever made this and have him tell me.”

She spoke to the urn not me.

Again I froze as I saw the answer, I almost felt the need to thank Nina for spelling it out for me, but managed to hold my tongue. Taking a deep breath I stepped forward into the space that Nina occupied. I fitted my spirit into her, matching body part to body part. The feeling of having corporeal arms and hands again was a rush.

It must have affected Nina similarly as she drew in a startled breath and her body gave a shiver. She, I—we felt euphoric.

As I looked out of her eyes I saw the designs on the urn begin to create words. The smile was mine but it was her lips that moved to form it. I began to speak the words through her lips, hearing her voice.

“Bequeath my spirit to this vessel as I embark upon my odyssey.”

When each word was spoken the writing seemed to flare brightly as it lifted off the side of the urn and rose up. Mere moments later it would wink out and become smoke that drifted until it was caught in the breeze from the air conditioning, and was scattered out of existence.

I committed the last of the directions to memory as together we placed the urn down on the desk and turned to the computer to write up our findings.