by Steven Evans
She said, “Are you ready?”
I nodded my head as best I could.
“You may want to close your eyes tight because this won’t be pleasant and your stomach is drained of its contents already.”
I was given no time to answer as her arms moved right through the glass, stretching out for me. She clutched my shirt on each shoulder and pulled me toward the mirror. I squeezed my eyes closed as tightly as I could, fearing the glass would slice me to tiny bits and pieces. She just effortlessly pulled me through it with no signs of resistance.
I landed hard on the ground and it seemed like the world was rotating really fast. I laid there for a while, trying to collect my thoughts. My balance was off, I could barely stand, and walking straight was more or less a lost cause at that point.
“Don’t move, just stand still and give your equilibrium a chance to catch up and adjust. You’ll need all your strength and endurance for this test.”
I spat out slowly, “What test? Why am I being tested?”
She just smiled and turned her head toward the creek behind us. I used the Weeping Willow tree to steady myself as I stood. I looked down at the creek. It was clear and flowing strong. It didn’t look all that deep, but as clear as it was, it has to be spring fed.
“Why are we here?”
“Because, this is where we need to be. Are you ready, or do you need a few more minutes to gather your senses?”
“Why?” I demanded. “Why are you doing this to me?”
The frown smeared on her face said everything I needed to know. I was regaining my composure and seeing more clearly, but my head was still foggy, my thoughts scrambled and not making sense. I tried to walk to her but my legs were wobbly, which caused her to giggle. She looked almost like she was pleased with herself or maybe with what was about to take place, but either way I was damn sure I wouldn’t enjoy it. She waved her hand and I was picked up by the wind and gently laid down by the bank of the creek.
“Are you ready now? Well, it doesn’t really matter if you are or not this is going to happen anyway!” Her eyes rolled back into her head and the lids slammed shut. She raised her arms and the air became angry, violently swirling around and slapping at my body. It was nearly pulling me into the water. I was trapped on my hands and knees kneeling in the mud as the clear water transformed into rushing rapids crashing toward the banks. She lowered her arms and her head slid back into place. She walked over and squatted beside me. She gently laid her hand on the back of my head and looked at the water that was inches in front of us.
She asked, “Are you ready? You can try to hold your breath, but it will do no good. You can’t slow your heart rate enough to endure this for long. Experience my death!”
She forced my head to the surface of the water and held me there for a minute. The water was swishing all around me, nearly leaping at my mouth. She smiled and pushed me under. The water was freezing. Instantly my lips parted and it rushed in. My lungs filled and I started gasping and choking. She pulled me up and laughed.
“That was only a few seconds. You are so pathetic!”
Again, I was submerged and began gagging for air. My eyes were burning. It felt like icicle darts were sticking into my retinas. As hard as I tried to keep them closed, the water ripped them open again. My temperature was getting lower and I thought of hypothermia setting in. I couldn’t feel my fingertips, they were numb.
She dragged me to the bank and just laughed.
“You weren’t ready. How could you be when the odds are against you? Could you taste the death in the water? Could you feel the coolness turning to burning pin pricks in your body? All because you refused to confess your sins, you let someone else pay for them. Now, you will pay the price… But first, you will suffer.”
Her hand motioned and I was thrown into the water again. I was paralyzed by the water freezing me from the inside out. I tried to fight and hold my breath, but my strength was leaving me as the water took control. Each time she held me under a little longer. She had said I would need all my strength and endurance, but there was no way to withstand the extreme power of cold water when you couldn’t move. Though I was under water, I could still hear her talking.
“How does it feel? To not have any control? To be powerless and helpless against what’s happening to you? How does it feel to know your life is in someone else’s hands? How does it feel to know that someone, who doesn’t care if you live or die and honestly prefers you to die, holds your life in contempt, someone who has no mercy or sympathy to give to you, no emotion or compassion? Someone who breathes hatred and lives off sorrow is now your master… How does that feel?”
She grabbed my hair and took my head down further into the water just to let me know she had control. I was tossed onto the bank and started spitting out water and weeds and mud. She moved closer, cackling loudly with every step. With a flick of her wrist I was launched toward the tree where I crashed into it and bounced to the ground.
She blinked and looked off into the distance as if she was searching for something and then her gaze returned to me.
“I wonder… Will you be strong enough to endure the sweet agony I’m offering you…? I wonder! Can you endure the trials I’ve placed before you and survive? Maybe, this will be more than your feeble body and weak resolve can handle. But, we shall see. Yes… we shall see! Now, for Heaven’s sake, pull yourself together. This ride will be bumpy.”
Suddenly she disappeared! I was back in my room standing at the sink with my head dunked in the bowl, the cold water filling it and running over on to the floor. I lifted my head and shook it vigorously to remove the water. I stood there, just staring at my pitiful reflection, hoping it was just a hallucination brought about by a lack of alcohol and the induction of meds I was now receiving.
Nothing was safe, sleeping, wide awake, even mirrors did her bidding. I was stuck in this place with nowhere to run and she had easy access to me anytime she wanted.
I spoke to the mirror. “Why does she want me? What did I do to endorse her anger? Every time she appears, things get worse and I’m left with more unexplainable scars. With my body so severely damaged, from my own doing, I couldn’t run or fight her if I wanted to.”
I don’t know why I expected my reflection to answer, but it just stared back with a blank expression. I doubled up my fist and punched the mirror as hard as I could, barely forcing a small crack to form but drawing the attention of the orderlies.
They swarmed in from every crook and corner surrounding me. Dozens of hands were grasping at my clothes and pulling me in different directions. One was yelling to another to get the meds. They were all over me, holding me down. Finally, the syringe invaded my skin and released its sleep inducing magic. My eyes closed and my head dropped as I entered the land of slumber.
CHAPTER 8
THE MARK
THIS TIME WHEN THE DREAM CAME I wasn’t even sure if I was asleep.
Everything is different, it’s like I am a bystander just observing someone else’s life. The whole setting is wrong, there are no cars, there is no accident, and there is no ambulance. No, instead, the land is covered in crops and there are cattle running wild. The buildings are shabbily thrown together. Only a few have brick foundations and the people are dressed in primitive hand sewn garments. It’s as though this place stands motionless in time as the world outside ages and goes willingly into the future. Yet, this place exists as a remnant of the past.
I don’t believe that am in immediate danger, but I can feel the tension and fear growing with each second I spend here. The people are all talking and gathered in one place. I can hear noises but nothing makes any sense, everything comes out muffled. It isn’t a foreign language, but I just know I’m not meant to understand it. They seem to be standing around a bonfire that is stacked to the skies, but why would they put it in the center of town? It’s already night, so why haven’t they lit it yet?
I’m still clueless as to why I am here and seeing this since no
ne of it has anything to do with me. My anxiety is growing, growing so strong that I’m nearly choking on it with every step I take. I try to turn and run, but some unseen force is obviously in control. I’m not able to look in any direction but straight ahead. I know, somehow, I just sense, that I don’t want to be here and I damn sure don’t want to witness whatever is about to happen.
I’m being drawn to the temple of wood and kindling that the crowd is hovering around. I still can’t make out what they are saying, but the sight of outstretched arms pointing toward a decrepit structure is unmistakable. I was meant to see this! I float through a sea of emotionless faces with empty eyes staring at the building like they were awaiting the guest of honor’s entrance. Who could they be waiting for and what could be so important that the entire town’s inhabitants would show up for it? The questions are now starting to swirl inside my head and I have no answers for them, for any of them. I’m not positive that I even want to know the answers.
Instantly, the crowd is silenced as a light appears in the window of the building. The night grows still, eerily calm as minutes’ pass without movement or sound. With a blistering wind, the door swings open, but no one is there. The crowd stares on.
I begin to hear a low-pitched chant starting to resonate through the people, gradually getting louder and louder. Now I can make out just one word of the chant…
“HERETIC!”
At this point, I’m more confused than ever. Still, no one appears in the doorway. The pointing and chanting and staring continues for what seemed like hours. Then suddenly, shadows approach the doorway. They are all dressed in black full-length robes with their faces hidden by hoods. There are two men in front, two men in back, and what looks to be a woman directly between the two columns of men. She’s not wearing a hood, no, instead, she’s cloaked in a veil with only her long dark hair visible. Her arms are twisted behind her back with her hands securely bound. The rope that is wrapped around her wrists runs up her back and tangles around her neck. The chant intensifies…
“Heretic – Heretic!”
I’m wondering what in the world is going on. Something strange catches my eye, the woman is soaked from head to toe and she’s leaving footprint shaped puddles behind her with every step. Why is she wet? Just then, another man, who had been lurking in the shadows, joined the group. He looks out of place, short and fat, but he’s clearly the leader. He is dressed in the same full length robes, except his hood is a slightly different color. He motions to the others, and in unison they slowly march toward the crowd. Like the Red Sea parting, the people shift to create a path up to the altar of wood. One by one, the men surround the pile and I can now see a post standing upright in the center, a small board nailed at the bottom and another a little longer about five feet up the post.
The little fat man leads the poor woman to the post where her feet are lashed to the small board at the bottom and she is tied by her neck to the longer board on top. This whole time she hasn’t said a word, she hasn’t screamed or begged for help, no sound has passed her lips. The leader waves his arms and the people grow quiet. He rolls up his hood to reveal part of his face, it is covered in a reddish-brown beard. He looks around the crowd, clears his throat, and begins to speak.
“My flock, we are gathered here tonight in the hope that we may cleanse this woman’s soul and free her of the demons that now possess her.”
The crowd is growing more and more restless and agitated as a chorus of Amens filters throughout it.
He continues… “For your blasphemy in the glorification of the dark arts, for defiling the temple you were blessed with at birth, and for denouncing your faith…”
He pauses for a minute as he looks from the crowd to the sky and lastly to the woman. After a deep breath, he speaks again. “For all these sins and those that only the creator himself knows about, you are found guilty! You, therefore, will be burnt at the stake until all your demons have been exorcised and your soul is, yet again, pure enough to enter into the great halls of Heaven.”
The crowd erupts into a hymn of “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty” and starts to sway back and forth.
“Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the king of creation!”
“Oh my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation!”
“All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near.”
“Sing now in glad adoration!”
The leader regains control and starts to talk once more. Clearing his throat again and looking straight the woman who is still standing tall and appears much calmer than she should under the circumstances, he says,
“Now, Katherine Pal….”
Everything went silent and dark as the people, the town, and the woman vanished into thin air. It was as if I was being sucked back through time in a giant vacuum and ended up in an all too familiar place.
Standing in the street, lights blaring, a horrid mixture of blood and oil permeating through the air, I could see the body bags lined out on stretchers and sealed tight. I felt like I had been mule kicked in the gut and I wasn’t able to stand up straight. The guilt and sorrow, my faithful friends, returned to me and my tears flowed freely. But now there was a new feeling of despair and sympathy piggy-backing my own feelings. I knew they weren’t mine, yet they were strong and nearly overwhelming.
Standing there confused and more lost than I ever had been, I tried to make sense of the events I just witnessed. I wondered what they had to do with me, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Why was I there? Who was that woman? Did they really set her on fire? How is any of it connected to me?
Those are the questions that puzzled me. I didn’t have time to solve those puzzles as I found myself looking down the dark lonely street toward my house.
It was quiet, too quiet. Even the sporadic winds rustling the leaves were just too quiet. All the noises behind me were muted and my attention was fixed solely on the stagnant road before me. I knew something was coming, something bad was going to happen and I was powerless to stop it.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. What they were trying to make me think I was seeing was just impossible. A blurry image materialized from out of the darkness and made its way down my front porch. Gliding in the air, its feet never touched the ground. The street lights flickered and dimmed and each one in turn exploded in brilliant sparks as the image went by. I was scared, but too curious to run. As it came closer, there was something familiar, a sense of connection I just couldn’t explain. It was close, nearly face to face with me, and now I knew what it was. I knew who it was!
Her face was still covered in a veil with only her long dark hair visible. Her arms were still twisted and tied behind her back and she was still drenched and leaving wet footprints trailing behind her. She looked exactly the same, except now there was a staunch odor of melted flesh and smoldering ashes invading the air around her.
I wanted to reach out and touch her, if only to prove she was there and reassure myself that I wasn’t crazy and hadn’t completely lost my mind yet. I was shaking so badly, I didn’t know if I could grasp the veil strongly enough to pull it down. I was wondering if I should really even try. It didn’t matter, though. Before I could reach out for her, I was spun around so abruptly that I became dizzy. It all disappeared. Everything was gone, the house, the trees, the cars, the street, and even the mysterious woman was gone without a trace.
I was left staring into those same cold dead eyes that had visited me so many times before in my dreams. I was waiting for her sharp tongue to cut into my flesh with accusations of broken promises and her endorsement that my spirit would be forever damned, but they never came. Instead, her words were calm, almost soothing as she spoke without movement.
“For centuries, I have suffered alone. My hatred, giving me life beyond death, my death, which fuels my rage, was unwarranted. I searched for a soul that was similar to my own, believing it to be nonexistent. Then, from the darkness I heard your anguish, tasted your tears and felt yo
ur heartbreak. Your sorrow, so sweet, captivated me. It was a temptation even I couldn’t resist. So I searched you out, across the big empty heavens, traveling through space and time to find you. We are kindred spirits brought together by death, our souls are bound by sorrow and where only one once dwelled, two hearts shall beat the same.”
With that, she gently laid her hand on my chest, closed her eyes and after a few moments she continued, “I place upon your soul my mark, a mark that can be neither seen nor washed away. You may not remember today or tomorrow, but someday you will come to understand its full ramifications and on that day I will return for you. For now, you need your rest.” She then bowed her head and whispered softly, “Sleep, sleep…sleep!”
I woke up back in my room hanging half off the bed with my head exploding in pain and pressure. My stomach was arguing with its contents about where they should remain, and I knew I was going to see them again as the contents were bound to have the last word. I was visiting the porcelain god with the only offering my body was able to produce, and praying for it to end. My thoughts, if you wanted to call them that, were a mixed-up jumble of flashes and confusion. Each one led to nowhere. There were always more questions than answers. My brain couldn’t handle the constant barrage and just shut itself down in the hopes of slowing up the onslaught of memories.
Someone was shaking me, their voice ringing in my ears. I was still so weak and exhausted that it took several minutes before I was conscious enough to see if it was one of the orderlies trying to get me back on the bed. Before I was able to stop him, he called for the nurse who, with a smile on her face, politely jabbed a syringe in my ass. That sweet and beautiful smile was the last thing I saw before passing out again. It seems that kind nurse, with her smile of deception, had turned me in to the psycho babblist because the orderly said I was out of my head. He told her I was hysterical, talking of burning women and hooded men and of entire towns just disappearing. So, the nurse felt compelled to send me to the resident psychologist.