The Crypt Artist

The Crypt Artist by Deborah O'Toole was released by Club Lighthouse Publishing in June 2020.

A near-starving artist finds himself inspired by a group of long-dead classic painters in a rundown loft in SoHo, New York.

From the Epilogue 

IZZY AND LUCA AGREED THEY should never rent out Malachy's apartment. They kept it as is after the remodel, as if waiting for the man himself to come home. Mrs. Peabody even  put in her two cents, placing an empty cat bowl on the kitchen counter in honor of Hissy.

Surprisingly, lovers of poetry and literature, students, alumni and collectors heard of the semi-shrine to Malachy and visited the loft, mainly during summer months. Luca thought how fitting it was, and how much Malachy loved the notion as a spirit.

Luca knew the Irish poet was still in residence at the Ramsey. He heard and saw him on occasion, although his appearances became more infrequent with time. Luca knew he would be greatly saddened if the appearances stopped altogether. He had grown intensely fond of the eloquent man, who had quite literally saved his life in more ways than one. Luca wasn't certain if other ghostly manifestations were still about - namely in the forms of Howard, Jeanne, John and Philip - but he hoped so. They had all contributed in one way or another to the turning point of his life.

Luca suddenly felt a cold presence, and he knew Malachy was with him again. His voice was not long in following.

"You're among the land of the living," Malachy told him wisely. "And I am among the dead. You don't need me anymore."

"I'll always need you," Luca disagreed without hesitation.

"Spend your time with loved ones," Malachy advised him. "Never take for granted the time you have on earth, boyo. It will be over quicker than the blink of an eye."

"But you are part of all that," Luca attempted to argue. "You are part of my life. If it wasn't for you, and your friends, my life would have gone down the drain. I certainly would not be where I am now."

"Me and the motley crew of ghouls I hang about with aren't your only saving grace," Malachy replied firmly. "You did all of this of your own volition. You made it happen, not us."

Luca felt a surge of happy confidence, a happenstance that had occurred many times since the first day he encountered the ghost of Malachy O'Leary.

The pair of them did not need more words at the moment. Both smiled, exchanging a glance. They both knew what one meant to the other, so no verbiage was necessary. Alive or dead, their friendship would endure - beyond any moments in time.

With another smile, Luca turned and left the room, locking the door firmly behind him. A few seconds later, he heard the strains of Shadows of the Night playing from the old record player in Malachy's flat.

* * *

"WHY DOES HE DO THAT?" Howard demanded after Luca left the apartment. "He comes in here and looks around, and then leaves, only to lock us in here again."

Malachy laughed. "We're not technically trapped in here, Howard old boy. We can come and go as we please."

"I know that," Howard replied impatiently. "It was a just a figure of speech. Here we sit again. This time, it's in your newly decorated flat, which I must admit is a damn sight better than its previous hellhole state. But we are still and housed in this mausoleum for the rest of our ghostly days, apparently."

"Not such a bad state of affairs," Jeanne murmured from her spot by the window, rocking gently back on forth on the balls of her feet. "Luca has done a splendid job with this place. It's livable now."

John stared at her, his usual stance when she spoke or when he thought she wasn't looking at him. "We have more to amuse us these days," he said absently as his eyes followed Jeanne. "We can bring forth light and move objects. I can't tell you the fun I have in the subways at night." He snickered. "Humans are such pushovers."

"Leave it to you to invade the subways," Howard sneered. "At least I have the good taste to go to places like the Ritz. Pushing elegant yet arrogant people down on their asses is highly satisfying."

Philip coughed lightly behind his hand. "Really, Howard," he said reprovingly.

Howard twisted in his chair to look at Philip. "And where do you go at night?" he demanded. "I notice you disappear on your own, just like the rest of us."

"Museums," Philip replied faintly. "Art galleries, and fine restaurants."

"To do what?" John asked, curious. "Do you just sit there and watch people? Or do you shove a few of them about?"

Philip coughed behind his hand again, averting his eyes. "Oh, I've shoved a few of them about. Usually surly men, or pretty ladies wearing short skirts."

Howard guffawed, waving his hand in Philip's direction. "Ladies and gentlemen, our closet pervert is revealed."

Philip appeared horrified. "I most certainly am not a pervert, whether in the closet or otherwise."

Howard snorted. "Remains to be seen, Philip my boy. Perversion is hard to hide in the long term. It will all come out eventually, so you might as well share it with us now."

Malachy only half-listened to their squabble, watching Hissy as she strolled in from the kitchen area. She met his eyes and twitched her tail. Then she walked over to Jeanne by the window and began rubbing against the woman's legs. Absently, Jeanne reached down and scratched the cat behind the ears, which elicited great purrs from her chest.

Malachy grinned. They were all in a happy place now, aside from being as dead as doornails. The Ramsey building was in the best hands, and life was moving along for Luca at a good and steady pace. He didn't need looking after anymore, and hadn't drank a drop of wine in nearly a year.

"He doesn't need me any longer," Malachy reiterated in thought as he floated around the room, echoes of disagreement still coming from Howard and Philip. "But I'll stick around for the time being. This is my home, after all."

Malachy floated over to the old record player on the round table near the fireplace. With a soft smile, he placed the needle on a vinyl recording of Shadows of the Night, using force with the palm of his hand.

Satisfied, he resumed floating around the room, Hissy now close on his gossamer heels.