Blessed

by Michael, David

  School started up again a few days later and each day that passed pushed the memory of her psychotic break further and further from her mind. It had been a week since she had put the necklace on and taken her trip to Crazy Town and she was starting to get back into the groove of her normal life.

  She grabbed hold of the distraction that homework provided and threw herself at it wholeheartedly. The more time she spent thinking about other stuff, the less time she spent fighting the urge to put the necklace back around her neck. It was working better than she had hoped it would. She still thought about it more often than not, but it had been two days since she had found the box in her hands with no memory of getting it out. That was progress.

  Piper knew something was off and pushed for information whenever she got the chance, but Ardra couldn’t bring herself to tell her about her experience yet. It was still too weird.

  “Ardra, you’re never this focused on your school work. I haven’t caught you daydreaming in Accounting all week. I’m pretty sure at this point I’m going to be the one borrowing your notes for once. Do you have any idea when the last time that happened was?” When Ardra didn’t answer, she continued, “It was in the seventh grade when I had the flu and missed a week of school. Are you seeing how my concern is justified? It’s weird!”

  Ardra brushed it off with, “I realized over break that I’ve been letting myself slip. I figured I’d nip it in the bud before it started affecting my GPA. Really, Piper, I’m fine. Calm down.”

  Piper wasn’t buying it. Ardra could see it in her eyes, but she let it drop for the time being and changed the subject by saying, “So, BYU sent me another letter. They keep begging me to transfer down there. I kinda want to write them a nasty letter and tell them that my blood is red, not blue, and it will never change. I don’t want to look like an idiot though. They’d probably think that I meant it literally and completely ignore the reference to the school rivalry. I’m a Ute and always will be!” She thumped herself on the chest over the big white “U” plastered to the front of her red hoodie to prove her point.

  Ardra was thankful for the change in subject and brought up a guy that Piper had been seeing since Thanksgiving for good measure. When she ran out of things to say about the Utes, he was her next favorite topic of conversation.

  “How are you and Harrison doing?”

  “Oh my gosh! He’s so sweet! Did I tell you that he got me earrings for Christmas? Real diamonds! Not very big ones, but it’s the thought that counts and this way I wouldn’t have to feel bad about only getting him a video game.”

  That’s how the rest of the day went. Class, Piper talking about her boy, class, boy, class. Boy on the drive home, boy during their ritual after school snack and a text about the boy after she had gone home for good measure. Ardra’s complete and utter lack of interest and zeal for the conversation seemed to have no effect on the flow of information about Harrison that was spewing forth from her best friend’s mouth.

  When her phone stopped blowing up, Ardra assumed Piper had made it home safely and had settled in to do her homework. Her parents weren’t home yet and the house was quiet, so she plopped herself down on the couch in the den and turned on the TV for some mindless distraction.

  As the reruns slowly lulled her into a zombie-like state. She felt herself melting into the couch and let sleep come over her in a wave. It was the first time she’d slept without dreaming since her birthday.

  When her parents came through the door together she stretched and yawned, drawing the smell of Chinese take-out into her olfactory nerves.

  “Mmm, what’s for dinner?” she asked as she sat up off the couch and hit the mute button on the TV remote.

  “We thought that place down on State Street and third south sounded good so we stopped and grabbed some carry out. Hope that’s okay with you!” her mom called down from the kitchen.

  Ardra climbed the four steps and leaned against the wooden railing that kept small kids from falling the four feet into the den, “Sounds perfect.”

  As if expressing its agreement, her stomach rumbled like thunder.

  “We better feed that girl before she goes all Hannibal Lecter on us!” her father joked as he put the bags down on the counter. He pulled the cardboard containers out and set them down on the table as her mom laid out three plates and forks. He opened the cartons, she stuffed spoons inside of them. It was like a little dance that they did, each move choreographed over a quarter of a century of the same routine. Ardra wondered absently if she’d ever have a dance partner.

  She sat down so her father could say the blessing before they ate. While he prayed, she let her mind wander. She found her mind’s eye resting on the box where she put all the things she didn’t have a way of dealing with. The black fog. That was a dangerous path to let her mind follow, so she tore it away and focused on the words that were pouring forth from her father’s mouth.

  They all said, “Amen.” And started dishing up food.

  “How was school today honey?” her father asked her as he dished orange chicken onto his plate.

  Since her mouth was already stuffed full of chicken and rice, she shrugged and nodded.

  “Slow down Ardra.” Her mother laughed. “We promise we’ll leave you some so you can have seconds!”

  Ardra focused on chewing her food before washing it down with water from the glass her mother had placed in front of her.

  “Sorry. I guess I’m more hungry than I thought!” She wiped her mouth and cleared her throat before continuing, “School was good. The professors are all still in holiday mode I think. Very light homework this week. Not entirely a good thing, it simply means that they’ll make up for it when their brains come back from vacation.” She shrugged and shoveled another spoonful of fried rice into her mouth.

  Both of her parents had graduated from the University of Utah and things really hadn’t changed much since their days there. They had discovered this during Ardra’s first year when a professor who had taught there when they had attended assigned her a paper on the repetition of sound in poetry and its effect on a piece.

  Her father had almost choked on his dinner when she told him about it. He had been assigned the same exact same paper twenty years prior. The revelation had launched a whole conversation on the topic, leaving her mother to roll her eyes. Anne had dropped a pie on the table between them after an hour of listening to them go back and forth. She had been a Business Major, so if they weren’t talking about math, she wanted no part of the conversation. English drove her up the wall.

  “I speak the language, don’t I? Why on earth do I need to take a class on how to do something I already do quite well?” had always been her argument.

  No matter how many times they had tried to convince her that English classes were about more than just speaking the language, couldn’t get her to come around to their way of thinking.

  Ardra had finally found a good balance between her parents with her class schedule this semester. She could talk English with her dad, and Accounting with her mom. If she was careful, she could bounce back and forth often enough that they would both cross over into the other’s territory and they could all talk math and English.

  She preferred to save herself the work and avoid the subject of school whenever she could.

  Small talk was the theme for the rest of the meal. There wasn’t enough time for food and heavy conversation, so they stuck to topics like the weather, shopping, and church.

  Ardra was glad that her parents weren’t as pushy as Piper was when something was a little off with her attitude. As long as she wasn’t yelling at people and slamming doors, they rarely raised an eyebrow over her bouts of seclusion. It was pretty normal for her to withdraw for a few days and spend hours reading or doing homework. She liked to escape to a less stressful place sometimes and books were the perfect tool for getting there as far as she was concerned.

  After dinner, she headed to the den and flopped down on the couch with her book of the mo
ment while she digested. She quickly sank into the story that was laid out in front of her and vanished into the world contained between the covers.

  As she closed the book several hours later, she felt the sense of accomplishment that always came with finishing a book. She stretched and mulled over the story that she had just participated in and quickly decided that she had really enjoyed it. Especially the closure at the end. Nothing bugged her more than when an author left you hanging at the end of a book. It was like watching a movie where the main character just walks off into the forest at the end for no reason. It wasn’t something that tickled her fancy.

  Her parents must have gone to sleep while she was reading. All the lights in the house were off except for the upstairs hall light where her bedroom was. She was willing to bet they had both said goodnight, and that she had responded, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember.

  She flipped the light off at the top of the stairs and flipped her bedroom light on after closing the door behind her.

  She went through her nightly hair brushing ritual, laid out an outfit for the next day, said a prayer, shut off the light and let herself sink into slumber.

  The face that swam out of the darkness was only vaguely familiar at first. The shadows that passed over it, kept her from getting a good look. She could only catch a glimpse of an eyeball here and a jaw line there. As her vision cleared and the scene before her came into the sharp relief that only a dream could, she saw that the shadows weren’t shadows at all. They were tentacles, exactly like the ones she kept locked inside of her—smokey and ethereal, yet solid and threatening all at the same time.

  They were writhing.

  Constricting.

  Like she always did, she ran forward to tear the tentacles off of the man and, like they always did, they fought back. Pulling her into them and sticking to her skin everywhere they touched.

  It never took long for them to completely surround and consumer her.

  She tried to scream and a tentacle slithered into her mouth and down her throat. The taste of dead flesh filled her mouth as the thing probed and groped for something inside of her. As she choked and gagged on the slick black mass wriggling inside of her, she could only ask herself how she could have let it out. Because of her, this poor man was trapped inside of her personal hell with her. If only she could have contained it.

  As her vision dimmed from the lack of oxygen being carried to her brain, she prepared herself for the painful end to the familiar scenario. A part of her knew she was about to wake up screaming and covered in sweat, but it didn’t make the experience any less terrifying or real.

  Then something new happened.

  She felt the tingle in her chest.

  As it spread through her body, she could feel new life entering her. She started to vibrate all over again until she was sure her chattering teeth would cut through the black slime that was slowly choking her to death as it searched for whatever was inside of her that it was after.

  Her chest seemed to open up and a green spotlight came tearing out of her sternum. From the palms of her hands and the pads of her feet, beacons of bright green light blasted through the darkness. Light even shone from her mouth and eyes. It was like someone had wrapped her skin around a case of green road flares and lit them all at once.

  Whenever the light came in contact with one of the tentacles, it shrieked and hissed before vaporizing with a gentle pop and drifting away in the form of a dark haze, no longer a threat.

  The intensity of the light never let up. It grew brighter and stronger the further away the black mass was pushed from her body.

  After what seemed like hours of the searing hot light, no trace of the darkness was left. The light slowly dimmed and she gently landed on an invisible floor. As she peered through the eerie green haze, she saw the man she had been trying to save for weeks lying on the floor, eyes closed, sunken in and appearing almost mummified. It was as if the writhing dark mass had sucked every ounce of light right out of him.

  She took a few steps toward him and her heart shattered when she realized why she had recognized the face. The stubble, bright blue eyes and golden blond hair was unmistakable.

  The smell of heaven had been replaced by the smell of rotting flesh.

  She woke to the sound of somebody screaming.

  When she realized that it was her, she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth and took several deep breaths through her nose.

  Her bed was soaked with sweat, the blankets were strewn all over the floor and her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might puke.

  Her light flashed on and her father was standing in the doorway with a baseball bat looking like he had just run a marathon. His eyes showed a hint of panic as they searched her room for an intruder before they settled on her.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. The bat fell to a state of rest on his shoulder, but did not leave his hand.

  “Sorry, daddy.” She managed to croak out after a few deep breaths. “I had a terrible dream. I’m okay. I promise.”

  She wasn’t quite sure she was actually okay, but she felt bad about waking and, obviously, terrifying him. She took a few more deep breaths as he came to her bed.

  He sat on the edge of her mattress and dropped the bat between his knees. He gathered her up in his arms and ran his hand over the top of her head, covering his under garments in her sweat as he did so.

  “You scared the daylights out of me. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked after he could feel that her heart wasn’t trying to escape from her chest anymore.

  “Yeah. It was nothing more than a bad dream. I’m gonna grab me a glass of water and wash my face.”

  As she walked out of the room, she heard him say, “Must’ve been a doozy.” As he stood up.

  She filled the cup that she used to rinse her mouth out after brushing her teeth and downed it in one breath. She filled it again and took one more swallow before setting it down on the counter and splashing ice cold water from the faucet onto her face.

  After patting her face dry, she realized that her hair was still soaked in sweat. She pulled the elastic from her pony and knelt down beside the tub. The cold water running through her hair felt amazing and helped to clear the image of the man’s mummified body from her head.

  She rung out her hair and dried it before brushing it back into its bedtime pony tail. It was a habit she had picked up during her battle with acne and wasn’t something she was willing to give up if it meant an increased chance of breaking out again. The Chinese food she had eaten for dinner would be bad enough.

  As she sat with her back against the side of the tub she chanted, “It was just a dream.” Like a mantra. She was shaken by the fact that the man had shown up twice now. Once in what she knew was a dream and once in something she was sure was not a dream at all.

  She had the sudden urge to check her bottom drawer for the necklace and the lock of hair that she had brought back with her to make sure that it hadn’t been a dream after all. That would just add hallucination to this madness and she wasn’t sure she could handle that. She needed to know that her psychotic episode had been real and that she hadn’t only imagined the hair that she had been telling herself was in that box.

  She rose from the floor onto her still-shaking legs and finished her water before heading back to her bedroom. Her parents’ door was closed and there was no light coming from underneath it, so she felt a little better knowing that her father had gone back to bed so easily.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that she wouldn’t be so lucky.

  As she sank down to the floor in front of her dresser, she steeled herself as best she could. Her hand was shaking when she reached out to pull the bottom drawer open.

  In the back of the drawer, right where she had left it, was the little black box. She mustered all of her resolve and forced her hand to stop shaking as she reached for the box.

  When she picked it up, she heard the necklace shift inside of it and hea
ved a sigh of relief. At least she knew that part was real. Now to settle the rest of her worries. She flipped the lid open and, right where she had left it neatly bundled in one of her elastics, was the clump of hair she had separated from her imaginary model’s head.

  She flipped the lid shut before she could talk herself into wearing the necklace again. With all the weirdness that had gone on since laying down for bed, she really didn’t need another trip down crazy lane. She tossed the box back in the drawer and slid it shut. Out of sight, out of mind.

  She hit the power button on her remote control and picked her bedding up off the floor before settling in for some late night TV. It was times like this that she wished she had homework to do so that she could have a good reason for not sleeping all night long. She knew she was going to regret the decision in the morning, but going to school a zombie was a lot more appealing than falling asleep again at that moment.

  Six hours of reruns, two potty breaks, four glasses of water and two apples later; the sky outside of her window had begun to lighten. She could tell that it would be a clear day by how light the eastern sky was so early in the morning.

  Thanks to the unique climate and location of the Salt Lake Valley, clear skies could mean one of two things: Either you were one of the poor saps who had to walk or rely on public transit and the white-blue sky was a curse, or you owned a car and the roads were bound to be covered in sheets of black ice.

  While the winter months in Utah were extremely beautiful, they were also extremely dangerous—especially for someone as prone to accidents as she tended to be.

  She peeked through her window to see if it had snowed at some point during the night to get some kind of indication of how terrifying her commute to school was going to be. When she saw the footprints in the yard still imprinted in the last storm’s deposit, she threw a silent thank you out into the Universe, happy that her chances of making it to her first class in one piece had just risen exponentially.