“But you,” he began. “You’re, you’re—”
I hushed him like he’d hushed me the first time we’d met. I kissed him.
All was still. Our lips were made for each other. I wanted the dream to last forever because I knew that kind of interaction was impossible in real life.
His hands brushed through my hair and down my back. They returned to my neck and then around, down the front of me. Then up again. Then down. Then up. He grabbed at my chest, squeezing my torso in search of something. He stepped backwards.
“What are you?” he asked. He sounded repulsed.
“Garth, it’s me. You know me.”
I felt him move further away. He tripped over something that knocked and rattled. I sprung for the spot where I thought he’d fell and found a pile of what felt like rubble.
From above came a horrible retching, hacking, snorting and gagging. A glowing mess cascaded from above and illuminated the cavern. It splattered in a soupy pile that gleamed onto us. Finally, our underground captivity was revealed. The cave was so dark and so endless, light dissipated into nothingness before it could find a wall or a ceiling.
“What is that?” I asked Garth. My eyes twitched as they tried to adjust to the new light.
“The Bridge Keeper must have brought up the fruits for us to see,” he said.
Bridge Keeper? That’s where Garth had left off when he told me his story. Was I in Garth’s past, completing his history? No. That’s ridiculous. I was simply dreaming. Or was it a dream…of the past?
My attention was quickly removed from that awareness when my eyes found his figure. Garth was wrapped in a burlap sack and lurched over, inspecting the rubble on which he’d tripped. He knelt in a sea of red that soaked his robe and freckled his white, white skin. Everything was saturated with blood.
As he rummaged through the broken stones he began to cough through maniacal laughter. The laughter soon turned into tears. He dusted off a piece of broken marble and held it up for me to see. A fraction of a face stared back at me. “This is you,” he said. “The Queen?”
I extended a trembling hand towards the broken face. I never did take hold of it, though. For when my arm came into view, I saw right through it, down to the bleeding floor.
*
My eyelids flew open like cartoon blinds. I wrapped my arms around my body, desperate to confirm a composition of flesh and blood. The arms and legs at my fingertips were mine, but deep inside I wasn’t me. I wanted to reach under my skin and muscles and bones and pull out whatever lurked below. “What are you?” I asked myself.
My heart beat rapidly against my kneecaps. “I’m alive, not a spirit. I’m alive. I’m alive.”
I was at home, not underground. The shower curtain I’d rigged for a window dressing awkwardly hung nearby. My cheap brown sheets, damp from night sweats, were tucked into the couch I’d always hated. The TV was blaring. I was home, not underground.
But I needed out. I needed out!
My legs wobbled down an East Harlem street as I tried to decide on a sanity-saving mantra. Dreams were not nonsensical waste bins. I’d learned to trust what I saw in sleep. That’s why I was scared. Why couldn’t I dream of money or ponies or never ending birthday parties?
Garth’s habit of dropping by just in the nick of time had spoiled me. Just five minutes spent looking for him was excruciating. I looked crazier than the crazies I passed on my journey to find him. The usual suspects—crack whores, schizophrenics, and giant rats—flew through my periphery. A year earlier, I would have flinched but I was able to zoom by without noticing their pathetic mumbling, scurrying, and pleas.
“Hey, what’s the rush?” asked some riff raff in a doorway. “Help me out, won’t ya?”
I failed to acknowledge his existence. As I passed, his filthy hand grabbed my shoulder. “Hey, don’t pretend a fellow’s not here,” he rattled with breath soaked in booze and Newports.
That was a mistake on his part. One should never touch a stranger, especially one in the state that I happened to be in that evening. My Night Creature infection had heightened my emotions and physical abilities, making me the equivalent of a nuclear bomb manned by a rabid chimpanzee. The details of what I did to that man are fuzzy. All I remember are the sounds of cracking bones as I swung him to the ground. When I looked down at my victim, his arm was bent in an inhuman direction within my hand. The body attached to it was sprawled on the ground, moaning. A smile tickled my cheeks as I observed him. Adrenaline blocked any sensation besides power. Taking him down was as simple as opening a door. My almost-attacker (or just a crazy man with too much gusto) cussed into the pavement as a pool of blood poured from his head. I found the wound and coated my tongue with its secretion.
He screamed a crackled smoker’s scream that jolted me back to reality. My stomach lurched at the dirty iron taste. His blood spoiled fast.
A cat cried and hopped out of a nearby garbage can. It strutted over to the man and finished slurping what I could not. When it had had its fill, it looked at me and meowed. It was an ugly, skinny thing. The bum rolled over and roared incoherent obscenities as he swung for me. A swift kick sent him down again.
The scrawny cat ran down the street and disappeared under a chain link fence that blocked an empty lot from men like the man I’d just assaulted. Garth was in there. I could feel it.
I scaled the fence. The lot was overgrown and seemed to double as a dump yard for apartments above. An old tricycle, plastic toys, and empty bottles of beer hid in tall grass and young trees. It looked like a pedophile had exploded.
Garth sat on a discarded air conditioner. “You found me,” he grumbled.
“I think this is a first.”
“I thought that you were angry with me.”
I tried to formulate a real sentence but settled for just not answering.
“You are still angry.”
“What happened in the Underworld?” I finally asked. “Who was the Queen?”
“She was my friend. She was a very dear friend.”
“She was a man,” I blurted out. The conversation wasn’t going as gracefully as I would have planned, if I had time to plan it.
“How did you know that?” he asked. He was barely able to utter the question.
“I had a dream. I was with you in a dark place. I was dead.” His face compressed to contain his feelings. “A cat brought me here. It was Rita, wasn’t it? She brought you news tonight, didn’t she?”
“Yes. I did not believe her.”
“What did she tell you?”
“You already know.”
“No, I don’t. What did she say?”
“It does not make sense.”
“Nothing does. What did she say?” I demanded by kicking a green bottle. It shattered against the building.
“You are the Prince.”
“Great. Perfect. Just what I need.”
“There. You know,” he spat as he paced wildly around the lot. “I was trying to figure out why all of this is happening. I tried to figure out why you are the constant victim, why I feel…but it cannot be. You are all dead, all dead and passed.”
“Shut up!” called a tired, angry voice from upstairs.
“Garth, I don’t understand. You need to help me,” I begged. My tough veneer was melting.
He pushed me into the shadow of the building, against a wall. “You are supposed to be dead,” he growled. “I sacrificed everything so that you could pass. Why are you here?” He shook me.
“I don’t know—”
“I am,” he looked down at himself and tried to tear at his impenetrable skin. “I am this…still. For you. I look like this; I still live, for you. And here you are.” His eyes pierced mine, breaking the tear-dam that I’d been building. He backed away. “Please leave me.”
*
“Garth, It’s still me. It’s still me. I’ve been with you.”
For the first time, Garth noticed deepness in the voice. With the physical version of the Quee
n gone, he could finally recognize it. “I thought you were an enchantment. What have you done with the Queen?”
“The Queen was just a statue in the garden. She’s broken now. I was the soul that inhabited that shell.”
“But you are a man!” screamed Garth. Bile tested the back of his throat at the mention of that word, “man.”
Was it because he was one?
Because he had never grown up to be one?
Had just kissed one?
He didn’t know. The Keeper’s light shone through the spirit before him. It fragmented strangely on his blood-covered face and body.
“I couldn’t tell you the truth. It would have inhibited me from doing what needs to be done,” said the spirit. His eyes hopped around the cavern like an injured bird. “Now it’s taken care of. Leave me be and go back to your friends above ground.”
“How? I came here because of you. Where will I go? Twelve paces this way or that way? This is the Underworld! We’re stuck here together. For eternity!”
“Not necessarily,” said another voice from a place beyond where the light could reach. “There are ways out of here. But I can’t say those ways are the most pleasant, I’m afraid. There’s recently been a feeding, that’s why it’s so empty. And bloody.”
Garth remembered that voice. The last time he’d heard it, it had been screaming. It had been dying. “I know you,” said Garth. “You’re one of the twins. You murdered the Prince.”
The voice laughed. “And this is my punishment. This place. That thing. It’s coming for us, you know. But it hasn’t got to me, yet. I found a hiding spot.” He broke into a sob. “My brother was not as fortunate. I haven’t heard from him in days. I think it got him. Brother!” he called. “The rest of us are hiding. Don’t move! Save yourself!”
“There are others here?” asked Garth.
“Yes. Many, many. You think you’re dead now…wait until it comes. Then you’ll know why we hide.”
“Whose blood is this? Souls have no flesh to bleed from,” Garth said.
“It’s the blood of the Demon. You see, it has no face. Its head is covered by skin, skin that has to be peeled back to reveal its eyes to see, its nose to smell, and its mouth to eat. But ripping away flesh is painful. The Demon will only peel it way after it’s played with its meal first. The pain has to be worth it. Many souls end up ripping its mouth open themselves to end the suffering.”
“Stop telling them everything. Let them fend for themselves!” called another voice.
“I think it’s much more fun if they know what’s happening to them, don’t you?” cackled the twin. “And don’t worry. It can smell sin, which the Prince is soaked in. Oh, I always knew I’d see you down here. It’s nice when family is reunited, even after the toughest of times.”
Garth stared at the fragile soul next to him. He’d never seen the Prince’s face before. The King’s shame had kept it hidden in the palace. That face tried to show bravery.
“Yes, it’s me,” said the Prince who was once the Queen. “I didn’t start my journey to the other side when I should have. I inhabited the statue in my garden, like Joseph did with that old tree. I used her image to seek vengeance. Stone does more damage than air.”
“I suppose you feel quite accomplished, cousin. Killing the men who killed you. I hear fulfillment of vengeance is an intense emotion,” teased the twin. “Oh, wait, your vengeance is not complete. Let me ask you a question. What is worse: committing a murder or watching one happen? Worse yet, ordering a murder.” The twin laughed madly. “He was our king, after all. We had to obey! We were the sons he wished for, not a sodomite in fancy clothing!”
The Prince charged in the possible direction of his cousin. “I killed my father, just as I killed you! You all thought I was weak but I brought you down. You couldn’t stop me, even after death, and you never will. He will soon meet the same end as your brother. Both of you will, I’ll be sure of it!”
The twin laughed, again. The other souls, who had been so quiet, began to stir. “Impossible. You are just as weak as the rest of us here,” the twin scoffed.
“The Demons of the Underworld can be bribed. I have been guaranteed this,” corrected the Prince.
“What are you talking about?” asked Garth. “We have nothing to give.”
“Me, Garth. I am the gift. A sacrifice. The witch in the woods told me how.”
Garth reeled at the thought. After what they’d gone through, after all of the ridicule the Prince had received in life, it was all to be thrown away? He deserved to rest in peace, not rot in the belly of a Demon. There was no way Garth could let that happen.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“Absolutely not,” argued the Prince.
“I’ll take your place.”
“No you won’t, Garth.”
“A lovers spat?” called the twin. “You degenerates sure aren’t the decisive kind.”
“I will make the sacrifice!” screamed Garth in the twin’s direction. “I’ll give my soul. But before that, I will find you and feed you to the Demon!”
“Garth, you must get out of here. This isn’t the place for you. You’re still human,” cried the Prince.
“No, your Majesty, this isn’t the place for you. You deserve to pass on with Francis.”
Screams howled through the caverns. “It’s coming!” one spirit said. “Shut up and stay hidden!” shouted another. Darkness encompassed them as the bile’s light began to extinguish. Garth felt the cool rush of souls running past him, searching for safety in the shadows.
A muffled screech surged from deep within the cave. The Demon warned the souls of its arrival by shrieking behind its flesh. Their scattering made it easier to pluck them out of the darkness.
Garth couldn’t tell how far away it was until a soul was thrown into him. Despite the spirit’s airiness, it sent him flat onto the bloody floor.
“Don’t let it get me!” pleaded the unknown soul. “I can repent. I must be forgiven!”
The Demon’s giant footsteps shook the cavern. Garth cringed at the click of overgrown toenails. Out of the blackness, a giant hand brushed him aside. He watched the soul shout and squirm as the slimy fingers contorted it. Contrary to what Garth thought of ghosts, they could feel pain. He thought it unfair that a person could die so many times.
“Let me be! Let me be! Eat me already, it’s too much!” begged the soul.
The Creature laughed behind its skinmask. The stifled snicker became a clear scream as its skin ripped, revealing a mouth with sharp, craggy teeth. The light grew fainter and it wasn’t clear whether the soul or the Demon was responsible for the tear. The clicking nails came closer, allowing light to finally pour over its disgusting form. Blood dripped into large pools from the crevice across its face, the accompanying smell rancid. Garth and the Prince ran from the scene and into the unknown.
“You cannot hide forever! You all shall meet your end this way. I am not the only one. No, I am not. We will find you, torture you, and devour you!” roared the Demon. Moments later, it had done just that to the soul in its grasp. The cavern was silent as it ate.
Garth had been repressing sickness ever since he discovered the Queen’s true identity. While witnessing the Demon’s feeding, he threw up. He was thankful he hadn’t eaten any glowing fruit.
The Demon called up to the Bridge Keeper, “Thank you for the light, brother!” It swatted its long arms into the surrounding darkness in search of its next victim.
“Take me!” cried the Prince.
“A volunteer?” bellowed the Demon as it pulled the lithe Prince from hiding.
Garth ran to the Demon, commanding it to leave the innocent soul alone. The Demon cowered at the sight of a human in his world.
“You. Boy. How are you in my domain?” it asked.
“Garth, please leave,” begged the Prince.
“Silence, soul!” said the Demon. It threw the Prince to the ground and honed in on Garth. “You want to see Hell? Do you? Scary, y
es? You want to tangle with an Immortal? Do you?”
“Yes.”
“This isn’t a game, human. I’ll rip you limb from limb, I will. Start at your toes. Pluck you apart. Slowly, slowly.”
The Prince yelled for Garth. They met against the fading light, where they could see each other one last time before the end. The Prince’s eyes were bright, his hair dark, and face still beautiful. “Don’t do this,” he said. His arm landed on Garth’s shoulder.
Garth felt courage bubble within him. After years of regiment and obedience, he had bloomed into the man he’d always wanted to be. He finally stood, free-willed, for something good and true. The Prince was not a monster like the King. He was someone worthy of Garth’s guard, worthy of Garth’s soul.
But their tender moment was interrupted when the Demon stepped forward and revealing its full ghastly form. A giant, twisted body with long limbs and enormous hands crept closer. Its blanched, cave-grown skin was stained with its own red fluids. Scars ran across areas where features should be, although its mouth and one eye peeked through the overgrowth. It slowly inspected the two men through flaps of skin and steady trickle of blood.
“It’s me you want. I am a pure soul,” announced the Prince.
The Demon inhaled the Prince’s essence and flickered its tongue to taste him. “What trickery is this?” it hissed. “You are clean and undeserving of this place. You will taste terrible.”
“I am sacrificing myself in exchange for the Sacred Magic.”
The Demon growled with anger. “Trick. Trick. Trick. Indeed. Who told you of that?”
“The crone in the woods.”
“She expels too many secrets, she does!” The Demon paced around them, unhappy with its ruined meal. “What then? State the magic,” it commanded.
“The sacrifice of a pure soul to purge the world of the evil ones. My father is avoiding the Way of Things. I offer myself to ensure his place here.”
The Demon approached the Prince to make the proper negotiations. “That is indeed a great sacrifice to be made. It is the oldest and noblest of magic. At the dawn, there was light and there was dark. Good and evil. The good sacrificed many of themselves to bring the dark ones down, to trap them here. These battles happened before time and all memories. I am a descendant of the first brought to this dark place.”
In Stone: A Grotesque Faerie Tale Page 18