The older woman started at a brisk pace towards the darkened shops. Erin couldn’t help but note that they were going in the opposite direction of the red star-like light.
They reached the first shop and Marsha held up her hand for them to stop. She looked around at the gloom of evening finding into night. Her gaze fell upon the ebony confines of the closest shop. Steeling herself, she spoke with her face hidden in shadows. “Wait right here with Evan. I will be right back.”
Without another word, she stepped inside the abyssal domain. Erin felt a chill as she realized how her mother’s movement just became another shadow against so many shades of the darkness.
Erin could hear her rummaging in the back of the room. She looked around nervously. This time she saw more movement in her periphery, but every time she tried to focus on it, she saw nothing. The instigators remained just outside her field of vision.
“Aha!” Erin jumped as her mother broke the silence. “This will do for our purposes quite nicely.”
Our purposes? she wondered.
She could see her mother coming towards the shop entrance carrying something oddly shaped. She stopped just before the exit and grabbed a couple of shirts off of the hangers. They tore off the racks effortlessly. A moment later she stepped out carrying a wooden chair and two shirts.
“What are you going to do with those?” Erin asked.
Marsha ignored the question as she scanned the horizon. The sun was barely a sliver of light. “Come on.” She said briskly, “We don’t have much light. It won’t be much longer before those evil things grow bolder. I will need a little distance.”
“To do what?” Erin inquired nervously.
“I’ll show you.”
Marsha led them to a space between all of the buildings in the leaf covered concrete square. She handed the shirts to Erin. “Here, hold these, please.”
“Okay?” Erin took them gingerly and cringed. They were rank with mildew.
The older woman then took one leg of the wooden chair in both of her hands and raised it over her head. Suddenly she brought the chair down onto the concrete with a resounding crack.
Erin screamed out as she jumped back shielding Evan with her body from the flying debris. “What are you doing? Why did you break that chair!” Erin demanded.
Marsha continued to ignore her as she studied the chair leg intently. “Yes, I believe this will do.” She held out her hand. “Erin, sweetie, hand me those shirts.”
Still confused, Erin did as she was bid. Marsha took them and effortlessly tore them into strips. She began to bundle the strips and wrap them tightly around one end of the chair leg.
She looked up at the sky. “Looks like I finished just in time,” Marsha said as she smiled sadly at her daughter. “Now for the finishing touch.”
She turned her back and knelt down holding the chair leg with both of her hands. She also could not discern what the older woman was up to, but she sensed that now was not the time for interruptions. Her mother was doing something vitally important.
She looked around nervously. She could feel that the dark had grown much more alert, perhaps sensing Marsha’s actions. There was a definite sense that something in the night was readying itself to pounce. In that moment, she realized that her mother had led them to a space containing the last vestiges of light, but it was rapidly dwindling. Erin’s trembling grew in ferocity.
She looked towards her mother and opened her mouth to implore her for guidance. She froze. The words on the edge of her tongue were forgotten. The space directly before her mother began to glow, faintly at first, but then with a sudden whoosh of fire catching, a bright light flared out, driving back the darkness.
A chorus of horrible screeches bombarded them from all around. Erin screamed as she pulled closer to her mother’s back and squeezed Evan to her protectively. She looked around wildly, but her eyes only saw the gloom and none of the monsters it contained.
“I thought that might catch their attention,” Marsha chuckled darkly. She stood up next to her daughter. “The evil things thought they could sneak up on us at first sundown. I bet they had imagined us as easy prey. They couldn’t conceive that I would give this to you.”
Erin stared at the object in Marsha’s hand. Her mother used the broken chair leg and shirt rags to fashion a makeshift torch. Bright flames burned on its fatter end.
“You made a torch. How?” Erin asked.
“You saw me make it,” Marsha said evasively.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. How did you light it?”
“I have my ways. This isn’t an ordinary fire. It will protect you and Evan from the dark and those creatures that dwell within it and it will continue to burn as long as you need it.”
“Thank you, Momma.”
Marsha nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m sorry to say that it too, has its limitations. Once you reach your destination ahead, you will not be able to take it with you. Until then, as long as you hold tight to it, it should help you stay safe.”
“Okay.” Erin nodded.
“There’s just one more thing.”
“What’s that?” Erin asked.
More so than ever before, Marsha looked at her with cautious uncertainty. “I was wondering . . .” She said as her eyes darted down at Evan and back at Erin. “Could I hold him?”
Erin looked down at her son and back up at her mother. Marsha’s sad yet hopeful expression broke her heart. It was in this brief pause that Erin realized her mother had never held her only grandchild before.
She rushed forward and offered him to her. “Here.” Marsha gave Erin the torch and gingerly took Evan into her arms. Her mother became very still as she studied his face. Erin quietly looked on as the time elapsed. After some time, Marsha’s shoulders began to quietly shake and teardrops began to fall on his face.
“Momma, are you okay?”
Without looking up, the older woman answered, “Erin, you have to understand, that I wouldn’t have wished this place on you for anything. That being said, you cannot know how much that I have longed to hold him even for a moment.”
Erin smiled sadly at her. “Oh I think I might have some idea.”
Marsha nodded contently. “He’s so beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Erin choked.
Marsha nodded again. “You were such a beautiful baby, too. I can see so much of you in him. I remember when I rocked you to sleep when you were this little. I could have sung to you for hours. I often did. Your father would find me fast asleep, half of me still in the chair while my arms were draped over you on your bed.”
Erin sighed happily. “Those are some of my best memories.”
“I could hold him forever,” Marsha said. She kissed each one of his closed eyelids then softly kissed him on his lips. “From the time you become a mother, it is engrained in you to protect your child at all costs. You hold your baby in your arms and see how beautiful she is. At the same time you look out at the world around you and see it for all of the multifaceted dangers it contains. You do everything that you can to protect her from those dangers while trying to squeeze out some joy for them to embrace. As your baby grows up, they begin to want more freedom to take on the world. Every day they take another step away from your limited protection. Motherhood is a process of separation, but if you're lucky, someday you will have enough distance to see just how strong your child has grown.” She looked up from Evan and her expression became very grim. “You have grown very strong, Erin. You are going to need every ounce of that strength for the coming journey.” She reluctantly handed her grandson back to Erin, and gingerly kissed him on the forehead one more time. “Grandma loves you very much.”
Marsha looked her up and down one more time. “You should prepare yourself. I know what’s ahead. I can’t say anything. I want to, but I cannot. The path you will face is dark and treacherous. Hold tight to my grandbaby. Treasure his warmth in your arms. Cling to that.” She nodded to the torch. “As long as you hold
onto this light, a part of me will always be with you. Its flames will help protect you and Evan from the dangers as long as you need it.”
“Momma, you sound as if you are about to leave now,” Erin said.
The older woman smiled sadly at her daughter. “Oh, honey, I am. I can’t stay here much longer. My time here is drawing to an end.”
Erin burst into tears. “But I have so much to say to you!”
Tears streamed down Marsha’s face too as she cupped her daughter’s wet cheeks with her hands. “And I you, sweetie, but you will have to settle for hearing that I love you very much, and I am very proud of you. Most of all, know that I believe in you. Remember: when you do not know which course to take, just follow your heart.”
Erin released another sob as she pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder. “I love you too, Momma! I’m going to miss you!”
“Shhh, dear. I know that.” Marsha gently pushed her back. “I will miss you too.”
She began to slowly back away from Erin and the torch. “I love you, Erin. Remember that. Always.”
“I will, Momma. I love you, too!”
Marsha smiled. She was now on the edge of the firelight.
“Momma?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Where will you go?”
Marsha’s smile grew brighter. “Heaven, of course.”
Erin stared at her temporarily at a loss for words. Finally she asked, “What’s it like? Heaven, I mean.”
“Beautiful.”
She stepped back farther in the dark until only her face showed up in the gloom. “Goodbye, Erin. I love you.”
She stepped back once more and disappeared.
“Momma, wait! Don’t go yet! Momma! Momma!” she shrieked.
Her words were swallowed up by the night, leaving her in the silence.
Chapter Ten
Torchlight
She was gone.
Erin stared at the unmoving night and the gravity of her situation pressed down on her soul. She couldn't believe that she was gone again. It was so sudden. Her mother had told her that she was going, but they had been so rushed that she hadn't really had time to really process it.
Her breath quickened. Somewhere deep within her chest, a void she had long since learned to ignore ached anew as the most recent loss of her mother pierced through the scars that had once knitted it closed.
Without her mother's comforting presence, she felt so very, very alone. In some ways she almost felt it would be easier if she hadn't seen her at all. Then she wouldn’t be dealing with this pain.
No. She shook her head. That wasn't true. She was grateful for her mother's help and insight. Her mother had saved her in this place at least three times.
"But then she abandoned you and your son to your fate."
She froze. This voice had not originated from her mind even though she had heard it in her thoughts. Her back became damp with fear. She was isolated, but she was not alone. Slowly, she turned around scanning the surrounding darkness. Other than the minuscule red light off in the distance, her torch was the sole light source in this world of utter darkness. The fixtures of the decrepit waterpark sank into the blackness of the night. There were no stars or a moon to offer any sense of reprieve from the abyss beyond. Without the pseudo star on the horizon she would have been utterly lost. Even the place where the sun set had now vanished without a trace. Not so much as a hint of the pink, purple, or blue of the transitional evening light bled past the edge of the world. It was almost as if the great fireball had been submerged into a greater ocean out in the beyond.
Somewhere out there in the darkness, she and her son were being stalked. The night had a mass of its own as it pressed against their corona of light. She clutched Evan tighter to her and adjusted his limp weight awkwardly on her hip.
Her eyes fell on the red light ahead. "Come on, baby, let’s get you out of this place." With that she took her first step towards the distant mark.
As she travelled, her attention varied from between the distant star-like light and the ground directly ahead of her. It wasn't long before the concrete ground gave way to hard packed dirt, barren of anything save the dead leaves strewn across its landscape. Her trek was slow-going as she warily walked ahead, and the minutes passed by arduously.
The pounding of her steps and her increasingly heavy breathing from carrying Evan dead’s weight were the only sounds to punctuate the ringing silence. Her arms began to burn under the strain and she switched arms, holding her torch in her other hand.
The only scenery that changed from the abyssal night was that of the bare ground covered here and there with a smattering of leaves. She cringed every time her foot crunched down on a few. Any piles that were knee high or greater, she would outright avoid. These larger piles were sporadic, but not nearly as rare as she would like. After her experience on the concrete island, she was wary of any significant leaf piles. Whatever those things were, they seemed to be able to hide themselves effectively in the heaps.
At one point she came across a pile that was a head taller than her. She could only imagine what horrors were hiding within it. She slowly backed away to walk around it, which proved to be more of a task than she had initially intended. The large pile was more of miniature mountain range of foliage, extending farther down the path than she had expected. Her detour turned into a journey in and of itself. That first mountainous pile turned out to be the tallest by far, but she encountered many more that rose nearly, the same height. On and on, one pile stretched into the next, never parting even slightly for a bypass. She kept checking the red star that was now perpendicular to her current course. Thankfully it still remained, but for how long?
That question brought on another different round of worries. She was afraid of that light and its unknown nature. She had no idea what it was or how far it was away. She was equally unsure of how long she had been traveling towards it, but she appeared not to have gained any ground on it. It could very well have been a nothing but star for all she knew. But the fear that bit at her courage the most was, that might blink out before she could reach it. What if her baby was trapped in there for all of eternity because she got hopelessly lost and unable to find him in this, dark desolate land?
Her fears drove her to consider plowing through the leaves head on and rush towards her destination. Erin paused as she came to a space between two larger piles that only came to her knees. She surreptitiously tried to scan its boundaries and ascertain what lay on the other side. The light of her torch only illuminated more leaves beyond. She had no way of knowing how far it would go. She stared down at the low level of brown leaves intently. She silently willed it to reveal its secret within its disheveled structure.
The leaves rustled with a Tssh in the silence around her.
Erin screamed and fell back on her rump as the smaller pile shifted before her eyes. What if she had charged through it? She and her baby would have trudged head on into the hands of one of those monsters. Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched a small avalanche of leaves tumble down the small slope. She scrambled up to her feet, and quickly hurried down the path. She glanced back at the leaves as she rushed ahead. Other than the sound of her ragged breaths, the silence still hung in the air like a parasite on the belly of the night, but she could sense a dark alien mirth resonating in the back of her mind.
She paused to survey her environment. The deep black remained outside the rim of her torchlight, and the mountain range of leaves for the moment remained motionless. The darkness was still yet alert. Her awareness of this grated on her courage. Her light began to flicker as her hand trembled. She looked from her surroundings to her affected hand, mulling over her body's resistance against succumbing to her fear as her mind struggled not to even grant it acknowledgement. Sighing resolutely, she switched Evan to her other arm and hip again while she firmly took hold of the torch in her opposite hand. Having no other discernable option, she began to trudge forward with as much resolve
as her weary heart could muster.
She did not know how long or far she had travelled, but eventually her course began to slowly veer around. So that the red star was now in the corner of her right eye. For this small change she was thankful. It made scanning the direction she was travelling far easier. However by this time, she could no longer meditate on the change or her worries for that matter. As she walked, the strength from her initial adrenaline rush waned, and the conditions of her journey began to take their toll. Her mind slipped from the primal concerns of her fears to the more mundane matters of her growing aches in her back, arms and legs. As she stiffly continued forward, her arms burned fiercely from the combined efforts of holding the torch and her son's limp weight. She began consider a brief pause in her trek, just for a moment to recuperate her strength, but she rejected the notion as blasphemy. However, once the notion had etched itself a crevice into her thoughts, it began to take root and its presence grew more and more in her mind. Soon it was all she could think about doing, and to uproot it from her mind would have been as arduous a task as removing a tree with nothing more than a spade. It was possible to do but impractical to undertake. She was so consumed by these thoughts that she even failed to notice she had left the wide patch of leaves behind and was now walking across a barren field of packed dirt.
Every so often she passed another small pile of leaves, but nothing like the ones that she had left behind. She staggered around them without giving them another thought. Her head lobbed down to her chest as she stared at her aching feet.
She aimlessly walked around a large pile of leaves and shambled on. As the light of her torch passed over it completely, a thundercrack of rustling erupted behind her with a noisy tssh-tssh-tssh.
She whipped around brandishing her torch like a medieval club, her voice catching in her throat. A flitter of movement attracted her eye. Her vision zoomed in on a sole leaf as it fluttered into her sphere of light. Simultaneously horrified and mesmerized, she walked towards it as if magnetically pulled. The leaf pile she had just passed was now strewn out over several additional feet. More leaves flitted to the ground about it. Something had just darted through it.
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