Hellbound: Chronicles
By: Nicholas Brashear
© 2017 Nicholas Brashear
This book is dedicated to those people who believed in me throughout the years, and to a few of those people who didn’t. Thanks for being there for me through the good times and the bad.
1. In the Beginning
My name is Jonathon Cowley. I’m going to tell you a story; a story about my "life". I always tried to lead it well and do the right thing, but sometimes there are underlying circumstances that cause us to do things we may not normally do. Some of us may run into a burning building while others run out of it, while others gamble instead of buying their children food. Such, are the ways of the world; the little anomalies that drive existence and freewill. What happened to me is just one case.
I guess I should start at the beginning. I was 24, married to a beautiful woman and quickly climbing the corporate ladder. I was the first one in my family to make over thirty-five grand a year and the first to graduate college. My father died when I was young, around 12. I had a few vague memories of us together, like playing ball, kid stuff. I hadn't talked much to my mother after I married Shannon. It wasn't that she didn't like me talking to my mom; I just became more focused on providing for her and possibly our first child. The doctors told us that she wouldn't be able to have children, but I hoped that God would have the good grace to grant me such a miracle, and I figured that in the meantime I would just keep working hard and when the time came, I'd be able to provide the type of life I never had. We were always poor when I was young, and I wouldn’t let that happen to my family.
Yes, it seemed the life I fell into was made for me, but life has a funny way of turning things around on you.
"Jonathon!" my boss yelled over the speaker in my desk.
"Yes, sir?" I buzzed back.
"I need you to come up to my office for a minute." I didn't respond I just left. It was about three in the afternoon and I had a lot of work to finish before four; every second counted. I didn’t want to waste any time, so I took the stairs instead of the elevator. I usually did take the stairs unless I was sick or just really tired. They were faster and it kept me out of the gym.
I rushed to the 50th floor. I ran past the secretary and I knocked and entered Mr. Taylor‘s office.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Taylor?" As expected, Mr. Taylor’s office was huge. It was decorated with rich, dark woods and chrome finish on everything that could hold one.
"Ah yes, Jon, come on in." I promptly walked to his desk and sat down. I was anticipating something bad to happen. After all, it was Friday, and that's the only time they fired people. "How long have you worked for us, son?"
"Umm, I guess it’s been about two years now, to the date as a matter of fact."
"Has it really been that long? You know, we've grown quite a bit as a company in the last couple years, and some of the board members are thinking of liquidating a few employees to make way for a new office in San Diego."
"Is this about the other day when I was a few minutes late? Look, I know what time I'm supposed to be here and all, but there was traffic and the lane..." he cut me off.
"No, no, no, Jon," he chuckled, "this is about you getting promoted. I'm going to be leaving for San Diego in a week to start up the new office, and we need someone to step in and take my place."
"Really? Me?" I couldn't believe it. I had worked so hard and it was finally paying off. I was going to run a division!
"Of course, we couldn't have made the profits and expansions we have if it weren't for you. You've single-handedly turned this company around. You are the perfect person for the job. Anyway, let's get down to business, shall we?" I just nodded and smiled. "You will get an annual salary of $100,000, a paid vacation, expense account and stock options."
"This is all so amazing! I can't believe it’s actually happening."
"Well, believe it, Jon. Look, I know this is a lot to take in all of a sudden so before I go, I want you to take some time off to relax and enjoy yourself. This next week you have nothing to do here, so stay home. In fact, go ahead and go home now. One of the interns will get the rest of your work done."
I rose and shook his hand vigorously. "Thank you, sir! I won't disappoint you!"
"Let's hope not. Now get your ass outta here Jon!" I didn't hesitate. I ran as fast as I could down the stairs and to my car. I got in and raced home. I lived in a high rise apartment building, middle-class; nothing special at all, white plaster walls, fake brittle wood everywhere.
It was about 3:30 now. I ran to the elevator since I was on vacation and I didn‘t have anything else to do that day. I pushed the button and the light came on. I was so enthused that I couldn't stop pushing it. The doors finally opened and I jumped in to push floor six and the doors closed. Every mechanized "ding" felt like an hour. I finally arrived. I went to the door and put my key in, but just as I did, I heard something peculiar: another man's voice inside, but it wasn‘t on the TV. Shannon didn't have any brothers, and her parents died years ago. She was a house wife, there was no explanation. I slowly opened the door and stepped on to the plain, flat carpet. Nothing. No one. The voices went silent. I started to walk through the blank rooms, making sure I made no noise. I made my way through the front-room and to the hallway. The voices started again. I won't tell you what was said. It is a private matter and to be honest, it just hurt too much when it happened, and I don't want to relive that. In any case, the voices were coming from the bedroom. That I could hear. Slowly I crept to the bedroom and I placed my hand on the doorknob. My palms were sweaty and my body was shaking. I began to open the door and my lip started to quiver as I imagined the horrors I was about to witness. When the light flooded in I saw my wife. There she was in all her glory, lying on her back, enjoying the touch of another man. Such hatred and disgust jolted throughout my body like I had never known. Images of murder and death tore through my mind. My body started to go numb, starting at my fingertips and toes then rushing up through my body. I could feel myself start to lose control to the pain. The hatred was blinding and I lost it. Without thinking I leaped to the dresser. I reached in and grabbed our handgun. I pointed it right at her adulterous face and they both started screaming and pleading for their life. I could feel the evil flooding into my body, as if Satan himself had possessed me. It hurt so much and I couldn't think of anything else to do. I stood there frozen. An entire lifetime went by with every passing second. Then finally: "Bang!" …and I went down, limp and cold. Shannon rushed to me crying as I lay in a pool of my own dark, warm blood. I remember standing there weightless, looking down at myself. I screamed, but no sound came out. I could still feel the blood overtaking my body, the warm liquid slowly pouring out and covering me. The hatred had destroyed me. My life was over in an instant.
The man began to comfort her. She threw him off and told him to leave. She ran out of the room and called the police; they came shortly thereafter.
When the police finally showed up, that demon that lured my wife into complicating our marriage was already gone. They arrested Shannon and took her in for questioning; she cried the whole way there. I realized by that time I was dead and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to cry, I tried to speak, I tried to feel again, but there was nothing; only the cold pain of being alone. I couldn't do anything but walk around, so I followed my wife.
They took her down and booked her. Took fingerprints and all that stuff cops like to do to waste time. They took her to the interrogation room and left her alone until the investigator got there to question her. I sat on the floor next to her and just stared. Even though I knew in my heart she was a lying bitch, I couldn't help but love her. There was something about her. I could alw
ays see myself when I looked into her blue eyes, but not anymore. I stared at her but saw nothing. Just a blank stare on her face matching the one on mine. The pain was unbearable.
I stood up and got close to her whispering into her ear, "I forgive you..." and she immediately turned toward me. I was excited. She could hear me! "Shannon, I'm so sorry!" I tried to tell her, but then realized she had only turned when the door began to open. I fell down in self-pity, knowing she would never again hear the sound of my voice. She told the cops exactly what had happened, and with a short investigation, they found her innocent of my death.
For the next few days, I just followed her around and watched her, intently. I no longer felt the pains of life. I didn't want to eat or sleep or even use the facilities. It wasn't just that I didn't want to; I no longer felt the need to. Out of habit I still tried, but I could no longer do anything. It seemed meaningless to try, since I couldn’t interact with the world, anyway. I’d walk through doors, people, all the stuff you’ve always heard about ghosts or spirits. It had crossed my mind quite a few times. I had been dead now for a few days and I still wasn't used to the feeling. I sat thinking so many times that I didn't deserve this, that this kind of thing doesn't happen to people like me, but I guess I was wrong. It had happened to me. I wished so hard that it was all a nightmare I would wake from soon, but the days grew longer and there was no such luck in sight. Every day I wished I could take it back. I even tried to pray, but I got the distinct feeling no one was listening to me anymore. After all, I couldn’t even hear my own voice. Why would I expect God to?
Shannon didn't see that home wrecker anymore. In fact, she burned all evidence she had that even reminded her of him, including the bed sheets. I could see the pain and the guilt in her eyes. When she wasn't out planning my funeral, she was sitting in my favorite chair staring at my picture, crying, blaming herself for my death.
“Please,” she cried. “God! Bring him back to me! I‘m so sorry, Jon! I didn‘t mean for any of this to happen…”
I wanted to tell her how I felt, that it wasn’t her fault, or that I forgave her, but I knew she couldn’t hear me, that the time for comforting her was over. I just sat alone and watched her. I was more alone now than I ever was. I thought back to my death and the pain of dying. It was nothing in comparison to the torment I was enduring now, and for the rest of my “life”. In fact, my death came rather quickly and relatively painlessly, but this, I knew, would endure for some time.
So many thoughts raced through my mind, always. ‘Why couldn't I have just talked to her about it? Why did I have to end my own life over something so trivial? Why hadn't I crossed over yet, and worse, when I finally do, what's going to happen to me?’ I was scared. I used to go to church when I was a child and of course everything I learned there came back to me: the pits of Hell, the gates of Heaven, and of course angels and demons. People usually turn to religion in a time of desperation and agony, but now it felt as if religion was turning on me. It made me picture the burning fires of hell and all souls gnashing their teeth while being eaten by worms. An eternity of torture didn’t exactly arouse my tastes, so for the time being, I thought I would be safe with Shannon. The closeness made me feel somewhat still alive.
I had already fallen back in love with her, but it was too sad, too late. I missed her so much and I could see she missed me, too. Her blonde hair was soft and warm. Her eyes, blue like tide pools, her lips, soft and oh-so kissable. I wished I could experience those feelings again. Even just to touch her skin once more. The soft, tender feelings of electricity that shot through me every time I did seemed so desirable now that it was so close and yet out of my reach.
The day was finally upon me: my funeral. I know most people couldn't possibly understand this, but one of the weirdest things a person can experience is attending your own funeral. I once again tried to cry, but I had no tears to shed. Shannon let out enough for the both of us, I think. The song “Somewhere over the Rainbow” began to play, just like I had asked Shannon. I didn‘t expect her to actually remember that I wanted it, and I didn’t think I’d be hearing it for years to come. I had mentioned it such a long time ago, nearly a month after we started dating, but she had remembered anyway. She always could remember every little thing I did or said.
“Thank you all for gathering here today, on this day of tremendous grief and mourning,” the minister began. “We all knew Jon. We all cared for him and knew him as a good and just man. He often came by the church to let out his feelings to me. He never came to services but I know he had a strong belief in the Almighty. Jon worked hard for the past two years and had just received a promotion. He was going to run the division here in town. He always wanted children but was never blessed with one.” I could tell this man didn’t know anything about me. In fact, I had never gone to see him, nor did I know him. Shannon told him to say that so that I would come off better than the man I was, I guess. “He left us too soon. He is survived by his mother and his loving wife. Now if you’ll all join in with me, let us say a prayer for the dearly departed.” I of course didn’t join him. I knew He wasn’t listening so I didn’t see the point. I just made my way through the crowd, seeing who all turned out. Mostly people from the office, an occasional distant relative, and of course my mother. At that moment I stopped feeling sorry for all these people. I realized that most of them weren’t even crying, a couple were faking it, and only about a dozen were sincere about what had happened. My mother didn’t talk to Shannon at all. I think she blamed Shannon for my death. If only I could talk to them all again and tell them how I felt and what really had happened, especially Shannon.
The funeral came to an end and everyone started leaving. Shannon obviously was waiting for everyone else. Even while mourning she was so beautiful. Wearing an old black dress, holding a single rose, she looked so perfect. I wanted to hold her again, just one last time. Sure her makeup was runny and she was full of tears, but there was just something about her that made me want to brush the hair from in front of her eyes. I guess that spark in her for my heart just appealed to me so much. I wondered if there were any angels that looked like her.
After the crowd cleared I noticed one other person there. Someone I didn’t know and hadn’t noticed until just then. He was tall, pale, with black spiked hair, and dressed in a nice, all black suit. He was standing in the very back, even a few feet behind the precession. The strangest part was that he wasn't looking at my body or my wife, but at me, staring directly into my dead eyes. It was almost hypnotizing, soothing, but at the same time, chilling to the bone. Even though they were no longer there, I could still feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.
"Jon, it's time to go..." he whispered. His words pierced my very existence.
"Who are you, can you see me!?" I responded.
"It's time to go," he repeated. I didn't want to go with him. I had never seen him before and there was no reason for me to leave Shannon. It was a pathetic existence, but it made me feel alive. Clinging to the shreds of the life I left behind with my untimely demise.
He was across the way from us so I just ignored him and turned to Shannon for a second. When I turned back to check on him, he was already in my face. I was startled and began to fall backward. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back up. This was the first time anyone or anything had interacted with me. I mean there was the occasional dog barking at me, but nothing that got me excited. I was a little frightened.
"I'm sorry if you couldn't hear me, Jon, but I said 'It's time to go,'" he reiterated.
"I don't know who the hell you are! Just let me stay with my wife!" I screamed. I was angry, some spirit trying to take me away from the only thing that meant something to me. Then it occurred to me, "Are you Death or something?"
He laughed. "Not exactly. I work for a lot of people. Death has more important things to do than deal with these time-consuming and tedious works. I do have a name, but it lost its meaning long ago. I came across a name about 150 year
s ago that I became rather fond of. A little girl saw me at her parents’ funeral. She called me 'Charlie'. Her innocence crossed the boundaries of death and struck a chord in me. So, I suppose you may call me that if you wish. However, there isn't really a need for you to know my name where you are going."
"What do you mean by that?" I asked. It hadn't occurred to me that I was talking and could actually hear my voice again. I guess I wasn't quite used to being dead; after all, part of being human is the ability to communicate with one another. You don't think about talking when you do it, you just do it. That's what I was doing now, but, I wasn’t about to be taken away from this world by such an asshole. I ran for it. He didn’t move he just watched and smiled as I desperately ran. Every corner I turned he was standing right there with the same evil smile on his face. It was a visage that would crumble the bravest warrior‘s spirit. I didn’t know what to do so I ran to a church. He seemed like an evil man so I figured sacred ground wouldn’t be accessible.
When I entered, the giant cathedral seemed entirely empty. The candles were lit and I walked through the aisle of pews to the crucifix. I was standing there, my eyes fixed on the Lord’s only son. Such fear was flowing through me. Thoughts started racing. ‘Who was this God that wouldn’t let his son Home? Am I really that evil?’ I stayed there the rest of the night. I watched as all the people came in to visit with the priest and confess. It’s astounding the kind of things people do and expect God to just forgive them. He may have infinite love and forgiveness, but I didn’t think all sins should be forgiven. It then dawned on me that my death was a sin. I committed murder, but since God wasn’t coming after me, perhaps I could get away; stay on my relatively peaceful earth. I decided I would go home and stay with Shannon. If I couldn’t be with her any longer, I figured that perhaps I could just haunt her. Eventually, I may even find a way into Heaven. I always knew ghosts existed; maybe I could be one, too. I walked for the door. All things have a certain life force, even buildings. When a house is lived in and loved in, it will flourish, but as soon as it is abandoned, it will fall into dilapidation. While I was in the church, I could interact with the spirit of the building, which is why no one freaked out when I opened and shut the doors.
Hellbound: Chronicles Page 1