“You cannot deny me, Glory. Do you know how very special you are? That Death itself loves you…wants you? Only I can give you what you truly desire. Take my hand and you shall become one with me; you shall be immortal! Isn’t that what you really want? You fear only what you do not understand. I shall make you my bride.”
“Michael, if you’re out there somewhere…please…help me…”
“You call to him? A mere mortal! He’s nothing now, gone into the very dirt from which he came. Ah, and he’s decaying at a rapid rate too.” The Reaper laughed. “Would you like to see what has become of your precious Michael?” He spit the words out in her face, mocking her.
Not waiting for an answer, the image in the mirror stood back. A scene appeared of a deep, dark patch of earth. His head bowed as he pointed to the scene. “Look.” He commanded her, pointing his index finger at the sight. She looked down at a gravesite. Michael’s grave! The very house itself shook as she stared in horror, unable to turn away, watched as six feet of earth was dug through by an invisible shovel, dirt piling up in large mounds on either side of the grave, Exposing the open grave and what lie in it.
In keeping with a natural or “green” burial, Michael had been wrapped in biodegradable cloth. This was done as a means to allow the body to decompose naturally, decaying quickly, so that elements like carbon would be naturally recycled.
Glory wanted to turn away but couldn’t. The material was unwrapped by invisible hands. She put a hand to her mouth as she gazed upon the sight! Michael, in a state of swift decay, his face was a mass of tissue and muscle. Already, his skull appeared. His eyes had sunken all the way down, leaving nothing but empty sockets. His hands had deteriorated as well, making the fingernails appear hideously long. Thankfully, he’d been buried in full uniform, which covered the rest of the ghastly sight.
After her initial shock, anger enveloped her. How dare this monster desecrate his grave like this! Stripping Michael of the dignity he deserved even in death. Glory wanted to preserve his memory as it had been when he’d walked the Earth, where he’d loved and been loved.
Glory whipped a hair brush from Olivia’s dresser and flung it at the mirror. “Go fuck yourself!” she screamed. The mirror shattered, the tinkling sound filling the room. Spiky pieces of glass littered the hardwood floor. As she ran away from the horror, she cut her foot. She was so mad she didn’t even notice. A small trail of blood followed her out of the room.
Still, he appeared in every window and mirror. His image was on all the glass surfaces in the house!
I’ll fix this, she thought, hurrying to the linen closet. She tossed out blankets, sheets, pillow cases, towels, tablecloths, and anything else she could find to tack up at the windows and mirrors.
At each window and mirror, he was there, reaching out to her, calling her name. “Fuck you,” she muttered, ignoring it. The thumb tacks were ineffective at holding the covers at the windows; they simply weren’t strong enough.
She went to the utility room, searching through Michael’s mess of tools—he didn’t keep the stuff neat. It had always been a bone of contention between them. “Damn it!” She threw tools out until she found what she’d been looking for, the nail gun. Her hands shook as she loaded it and went about the entire house, putting up the covers.
When she finished, out of breath and sweating, her adrenaline levels returning to normal, she was thoroughly exhausted. Still, she stayed alert until the dawn hour. She stayed in a corner of the kitchen, lying on Haley’s old blanket, her body in the fetal position. Finally, she must’ve passed out.
“What the…” Mickey walked slowly into the kitchen a few hours later. The house was unnaturally dark. And his mother was curled up, asleep on the kitchen floor! He didn’t disturb her. He knew she’d barely slept since his dad died. Instead, he walked slowly through the rooms. His mouth dropped at seeing the hodge-podge of coverings everywhere, the windows, mirrors, even the stainless steel appliances. He knew his dad wanted her to see a psychiatrist, had insisted on it. But, then Olivia had died and everything was put aside. Plus, there’d been no further incidents other than the one Mickey had witnessed himself that night.
He’d seen something under those covers pulling at his mother’s arm. He tugged at the covering on the kitchen window, a large sheet. It looked like she’d stripped the beds too, all of them. He yanked hard at the sheet, realizing she’d nailed them in! Still, it ripped. The shredding noise woke Glory up.
“Mickey! Don’t! Leave ‘em up. If he can’t see me, then maybe he can’t find me. And he’ll…leave me in peace!”
“Mom, you can’t live like this. I can’t live like this! I’m taking ‘em down.”
He did a double take, noticing her hair. Her beautiful, auburn locks were chopped, sticking up in jagged, uneven spikes everywhere.
“What happened to your hair?”
“The Reaper…he grabbed me by the hair. I had to cut if off to get away.”
Mickey sighed, resigned to leaving the covering up, if only to give her piece of mind, even as he felt she was at the least seriously disturbed, or worse, truly crazy.
Chapter 23
Glory awoke with a start, her back aching from having slept for hours on the hard pine floor of the kitchen. The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window. She scrambled off the floor, shocked. She’d covered this window! Had Mickey taken them down? She ran from room to room. In each room, the same thing! All the coverings were gone!
Rushing to the linen closet, she yanked the door open. Nothing was in it! So, where the hell were all the coverings? With shaky hands, she dialed Mickey’s cell.
“Hi, Mo—”
She cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “Did you take the covers off the windows, Mickey?”
“Huh? What are yah talking about? No, I didn’t. They were there when I left this morning.”
“Well, they’re not here now. And they ain’t anywhere in the house either!”
“Okay, you’re really freakin’ me out now. Maybe you took ‘em down and don’t remember.”
“For Chrissakes, why would I do that? I put ‘em up for a reason!”
“Do you need me to come home? I think you need to see…a doctor, like now.”
“Fuck that! You think I’m crazy just like your dad did! I’m not crazy. Never mind…I’ll deal with this thing myself! Just…stay away. If you don’t believe me, then I don’t need your help!”
“Mom, please…”
Furious, she hung up on him.
Going from room to room, she made sure all the doors and windows were locked. Now, she needed to protect herself not only from the crazies—she carried her gun and a box of ammo at all times even when sleeping—but from this supernatural “haunt” as well.
The laughter again, the sick, twisted sound of the Reaper’s evil laugh. But this time, he failed to appear in the glass surfaces. In his place, bright red letters appeared, the color of fresh blood, dripping at the bottom of each letter. RIP ME TO SHREDS.
Just what in the name of God did that mean? It was the same in all the mirrors and window panes, the same four words. There was a message here, a clue, yet it eluded Glory! The ugly glare of the paint, while it was frightening, angered her. She grabbed a bottle of Windex and paper towels, wiping the ugly red lettering away. The laugh, still audible, resonated throughout the house. She screamed as she cleaned. “What do you want from me?”
No answer, not in words anyway; just the bone-chilling laughter. She was missing something here, something of great importance, but her mind was jumbled.
The death of Michael, Haley, the guilt of killing those crazies on the bridge, the loss of her job and lack of sleep turned her brain into a muddled mess. Only three things were clear; she was afraid, angry, and sad all at once.
When she was done, she returned to the kitchen and moaned when she saw it. The letters were back! As if she’d never touched them at all, no smudge marks or any changes at all! How the fuck can it be? She tho
ught. Maybe she really was crazy after all! In anger, she threw the bottle of glass cleaner at the window, where it bounced off one of the bars, falling useless into the sink.
“I have you right where I want you!” The voice was so very close to her ear. She whipped around. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cloak of the Reaper floating away from her.
Suddenly, her heart beat so fast it felt as if it threatened to come right though her chest. This pounding was unlike any anxiety attack of the past. Clutching at her chest, the pain was like an anvil had been placed on top of it. She felt dizzy. The pain shot up her left arm as well, right to her jaw! Her breathing was erratic. I’m having a heart attack! She thought just before she collapsed to the floor.
Surrounded by an all-encompassing darkness, images appeared. Lone images, like the changing scenes in a movie against a black screen.
Olivia’s name written where it shouldn’t be, on a cold, gray headstone. Glory was standing in front of it, telling her she loved and missed her. A common cliché as it were, but it was her cliché.
The image faded only to be replaced by another picture from her life.
Her parents’ faces, gone for what seemed like forever now; she’d barely been able to recall what they looked like anymore. She felt no animosity toward them. For how could one expect perfection in others when they’d never achieve perfection themselves?
Another scene passed, of a picnic at Sebago Lake; everyone happy, laughing amidst the crisp clean surroundings, the smell of the lake itself mingling with the aroma of charcoal and good food. The image in her mind was merely a ghost image of days gone by. Although her heart may ache for them, they would never again return.
And then there was Michael, standing tall and proud and so young in his tuxedo, waiting for her at up at the altar in the church of her youth where she’d received Holy Communion and Confirmation. His hand extended out to take hers, to have and to hold, to begin a new story, one that they’d create together.
All at once, a light appeared, so bright it obliterated all the scenes and the darkness. Glory felt weightless, as if she was floating away. Gravity had somehow disappeared. There was no pain here, just a peace that she’d never experienced before. No matter how hard she’d sought peace, it always eluded her…until now.
And then…wait. There was…something backlit by the light. Something brushed by her soothingly and although she could not really feel her body, she was able to feel a feathery touch. And…whispering, but what was being said? Who was saying it?
The backlit figures became ever more visible and the whispering had increased in volume to the point where she was able to make out actual words. A most warm and welcoming smell arose as they came near. It was a vague almost undetectable scent that smelled like vanilla. She could not tell if any of her five senses were reliable…but it seemed that all were being pleasantly assaulted.
It was hard to describe the feeling. Although she was wrapped up in a lot of different emotions, one shone through like a beacon—love.
Standing right in front of her, appearing instantaneously, was Michael. Behind him were more beams of light that became more distinctive as they got closer. There were so many of them…so many souls, swirling gracefully, effervescent white, like whiffs of smoke with human features entangled in the swirls.
Even Michael did not appear as he had in life; it was more like an ethereal version of him, a view of his very soul. That which lived on in all of them, not visible the way they believe it would be. They were simply too beautiful for words.
Was she dead? She was unsure of what this experience was…but she liked it. Somewhere behind her, she heard voices of a different sort than these ethereal beings. She couldn’t make the words out; they sounded jumbled and chaotic. She never wanted to move from this place.
“I promised you, Glory.” Michael spoke without speaking at all. He spoke from one soul to another.
“I love you, Michael…and I miss you so much.”
“Mom?” She heard a soft, familiar voice speak, a voice she hadn’t heard in many a year now. A voice she’d never forget, not in a million years.
“Olivia, my baby girl! Are you really…here?”
She nodded, smiling. The ethereal light and her soft eyes, hair billowing all about her, made her appear as an angel.
“I love you…never stopped, won’t ever…” The words drifted off as Olivia extended her arm to take Glory’s hand in hers. Their fingertips touched. The shock of that touch was like a bolt of lightning, stronger than any human touch.
“What is this place? Is this…heaven? Am I dead then?” She wasn’t afraid for the first time in her life. Not afraid of their answers, not afraid of anything at all.
“It is whatever you think it is, Glory. Do you think its Heaven?” Michael’s voice was gentle, loving.
“I think it’s…home.”
“Then that’s what it is.”
Glory saw the others that had been hanging back, patiently waiting at the fringes of sight.
The vague fragrance of vanilla grew stronger and there was Joan. “Glory, my daughter,” she said, standing beside her son.
“Joan, I miss you so much. I’ve needed you so much and wished you were with me still…”
“I am. We all are, dear, always. Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not there. Sometimes…you just need to look with your heart, not your eyes.”
A wealth of memories flooded through her when she called her “dear” as she’d always done in life. She remembered that Michael had told her the very same thing before he died. To look with her heart and he’d be there, just as he’d promised.
Her parents told her they loved her, always had. That they just didn’t know how to show it. They wavered in and out of her line of sight and the words seemed muffled, but she was able to understand.
Here, in this place and time, Glory found what she’d been searching for her entire life; a sense of belonging, of peace.
“Glory.” Hearing Michael say her name again was bittersweet and yet, he was becoming less solid, more like an image covered by a white veil. She was losing them; they were fading into the light little by little.
“No! Please…I can’t lose you again. I can’t bear it all over again! Not when you’re all within my reach!”
“Glory…you’ll never lose anyone you’ve ever loved. We’re all here, and we’ll be waiting for you when you come back. You have a home here always and forever, but you have another home right now, and you’re needed there…”
“No, please!” She grabbed for Michael’s hand. He took it in his and put both of them over her heart.
“This is where you’ll find me, right here in your heart, if you need me. Don’t forget it.”
“I’m…scared, Michael. I need your strength, and Olivia, I can’t just leave…”
“You can, Mom. I’m happy here. God is here. We believe in you, even when you doubt yourself and don’t believe in anything. There are those who will always believe in you.”
They faded and the light went along with them, leaving her once again in the dark. She could no longer hear peaceful voices. What she did hear were other voices, frantically calling her name. She did not feel the weightless feeling anymore. What she did feel was her own mortal body and the pain of it.
Her eyes fluttered, opening and closing like a butterfly’s wings struggling to remain fixed on a flower. She fought to keep them open. Cool air streamed into her lungs. With one sharp intake of it, she came to her senses. Mickey stood over, looking frightened out of his wits!
“Mom?”
The chaotic shouting she’d heard while in that other place must have been him.
“What…happened?” she asked.
“You fainted, and I couldn’t find a pulse for over a minute!”
“Was I…dead? I thought…did I was having a heart attack?” Her voice sounded foggy and thick.
“No, I think you had a pretty severe anxiety attack.”
<
br /> “Can you get me a glass of water, please?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.”
She drank it down in a few short seconds.
“Mom, I gotta say this, and don’t get…mad. This has gotta stop! I’m takin’ you to the doctor tomorrow, that’s it.”
“No, Mickey, not tomorrow. The day after, I promise, I’ll go. If we’re still here, that is.”
“Why not tomorrow? And why wouldn’t we be here?”
“Tomorrow is December the twenty-first…two-thousand an’ twelve.”
Chapter 24
The morning of December twenty-first, two-thousand and twelve began like any other. A light snow had fallen the night before. It was just enough to cover the ground in a blanket of pure white. It was the day of the Winter Solstice. Although, this year, it was a notorious day with so much prophecy linked to it.
As in most households in the country, and probably around the world as well, their television was set to CNN.
The forecast said to expect snow flurries. Yeah, right. In New England, a forecast of “snow flurries” could in reality be a major nor’easter. The historic blizzard of nineteen-seventy-eight was originally forecast as “snow flurries.”
The day that was anticipated or dreaded, depending on personal and societal perceptions on what would occur on that day, was finally upon them.
The Internet was laden with mind boggling information on the subject. There wasn’t a single media element that was not talking about or showing documentaries on the subject. The history channel ran The Nostradamus Effect, Doomsday: 2012 and other specials all relating to the day.
The religious prayed for rapture. Thousands of people lined up in prayer at the “wailing wall” in Jerusalem. The Catholics swarmed the Vatican. Every one of the Swiss guards was posted around Vatican City. The crowd was solemnly quiet, holding onto rosary beads, crucifixes, awaiting the second coming of Christ.
The doomsayers stocked their homes with food, water and guns, ready for a catastrophe of global proportions.
The Wisdom of Evil Page 15