by Jacob Spadt
“Then everything stopped again. We thought whatever it was had done its worst. Your body was healing at an amazing rate, except you were still in a coma. The church pulled the coverage from your room since the danger seemed to be past and visited once a week. All was quiet.”
He paused and looked at me for a long time. I found the energy to interject something, but all I could manage to say was, “So that’s it? It’s over now?”
He shook his head with a very sad look on his face. I could actually feel his pain flowing from him into me from across the room.
“No Dieter, it’s not. It got much worse. You began to show signs of bite marks from something whose teeth marks we could not identify. You showed signs of burns from acid. Hell, I could have sworn at one point you had been run through buy something large. Several times your nose was broken. They even had to partially sew your hand back on once!”
I raised both hands and looked at them. There was a faint scar on my right wrist. “But yet you healed remarkably fast, almost before we could finish stitching you up. So fast that three different doctors petitioned for permits to make you a life study. Your mother denied them when they did not offer or bring any financial aid with them.”
He refilled his glass and returned next to the bed, and took a long look at me.
“You should have been dead long ago, but something helped keep you alive. I may have left out some minor details here and there, you are welcome to read the reports I have written,” he offered with a slight smile that seemed very tired. “We will talk again after you have seen your family. I am sure you have a million questions that I cannot answer.”
He began to walk to the door. A flood of questions came to my mind, but the only thing I found myself saying shocked me. “There was something there the night of the accident. I am having weird dreams that seem so real… about monsters… I...” He raised his hand to stop me.
“Had I not witnessed these events over the last four years, I would laugh and doubt you. At this point, anything might be possible. Get some rest we will talk soon.” He left the room. His loud foot falls carried him off into the corridor to somewhere.
The nurse returned. She approached the bed with a sad look on her face. Moisture was collecting in her eyes. I was processing how to request that he call me Dietz and the doctor's refusal. What do you do with people that do not respect your wishes on what to call you? It was both irritating and frustrating on top of everything that was racing around in my mind. I had even made it a point to call him something to irritate him to make my point and had hoped he would have understood. Sadly my efforts met resistance so the thought faded of winning that one with him. It was not worth arguing over. Her scent overwhelmed me. With her next to the bed, it was as if I was placing my nose on her skin. I took another deep breath. It was intoxicating
“I have been looking after you for four years now. Never have I seen such strength and recovery before, let alone so many times,” she said.
“Eryn is your name right?” I stammered, having difficulties speaking to her for such beauty moved me beyond what words could bring to bear and loss of motor skills did not help.
She nodded. “Yes, Eryn Magnussen,” extending her hand for a proper shake. I took her hand gently.
“How old do I look?” I asked.
She made a motion of looking me over before replying. “If I didn’t know I would say thirty-something. Not bad for someone with as many wounds as you have taken either.”
I smiled. It did not make sense to be able to mature while in this bed for so long. Perhaps it was possible to learn from dreams. Was that even possible? Could I really be capable of acting my biological age without adjustment?
“I feel…older,” I said, pausing. “Please forgive me for staring at you. It was nice to have you to look at when my eyes first opened.” She smiled and patted me on the arm.
“I hope and pray that whatever has done this to you is truly gone. Lord knows you deserve some peace after six years.” The look in her eyes told me that what she had witnessed had been traumatic for her as well. Had she been witness to what Doctor Price explained?
“Thanks. I am very tired, though. I am going get some rest,” I said. She stepped back and turned to the door.
“The call button is next to the bed if you need anything,” she said. She made a motion of depressing a button as she opened the door.
“Okay.” My eyelids failed to remain open any longer. That feeling crept over me again like when first I opened my eyes and saw the creatures flying around me. Almost terror like, this creeping doom circled back in the room with me. The image was out of focus, but it smelled dark and earthlike, yet nothing was actually visible when my eyes popped open and scanned the room. I sensed something familiar when the aroma changed to a smell that reeked of darkness. The aroma seemed to be oozing out of my pours. Growing in strength, this presence caused my thoughts to shift into a dreamlike state. I became aware that a dream state had entered, merging the reality of my room with the reality of something un-definable.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said and walked out the door.
My eyes snapped open one last time, not wanting to see the creatures.
The fact is, my memory leading up to the event was fine, but afterward, there were only bits. Those were hard to believe. What the Doctor told me may just have trumped what I held back. None of this made sense. It sounded even crazier. I had to get it straight in my own head before anyone else knew. I focused. The memory appeared and formed again. Just when I felt I could see it clearly, it faded as if something inside me fought to protect me from the truth.
I stared at the walls and the horribly bland pictures decorating the room. A slight chuckle escaped. It hurt, mainly due to fatigue. His question was more involved than he could imagine. It did not matter that there had been strange occurrences regarding my stay. With each breath, my eyes became heavier. At this point being stuck in the bed was no fun. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. My eyelids rose and fell to the rhythm of my own breath like a raft on the ocean. I always liked that sensation.
My eyelids finally fell. I drifted rhythmically toward a deep sleep. Like waves rushing to the sand and crashing, I felt myself slipping. Exhaustion pulled at me. A familiarity sensation settled over me. My dreams flooded with scenes of that night – the same one of which the shrink inquired. Visions emerged. I was moving again, even as I lay motionless on the hospital bed. Forces pulled at me. An image of the moon came to me. Yet it was not the moon of this world. The size, shape, and colors were all wrong.
XIX
Patience
My Legacy
(Written in the wilds of Heaven)
The growing pain I feel inside
Is tearing me up, I’ve no place to hide
Each day I rise the stronger it gets
Consuming my soul until the sun sets
I wish I could say at dusk that it ends
But that is where it truly descends
I have no real peace not even in my sleep
My soul goes to wander in darkness so deep
The demons they haunt me and torment me so
I get no reprise as I travel below
I cry, I scream for a moment of rest
But it continues all night, a never-ending test
I struggle; I fight to conquer the fears
Sweating my blood and crying my tears
But my demons they feed on my will and feed well
It’s as though I am falling straight into Hell
The irony is that I battle the night
Sacrifice my all and fight the good fight
I guess you could say I stand against the tide
As I gaze at the maw, those jaws open wide
You can try to destroy me, but I will not compromise
I will not go quietly now that I realize
I will always fight you, to win back my inside
I’m human, I’m stubborn, and I’ll swallow my pride
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I know now the answer comes not from within
But asking for wisdom is where to begin
This I have done and the price is now paid
So I will go on fighting for promises made.
I wish I could say that the tides have now turned
But each day the fires consume what I learn
Anew I have started each day when I rise
I tear back my soul to my solace and shed my disguise
People say that rest is where we regain
The strength that we lose when we each face our bane
Since I get no release when I sleep day or night
I get all my strength from walking in the light
Under these eyes are the signs of my test
Bearing the mark of a soul laid to rest
When my life is over my sacrifice will show
I’m a soldier who fights what is hidden below
The light crept across the floor. Mostly hidden by the blinds, the sun peaked into the room. Its yellow hue showed softly as it set, concluding its business with my part of the world. What is it about light that makes it more intense as you cut it down? It is not like the beam is a laser. The light waves and particles do not combine forces. The blinds stopped most of the sun’s energy, yet the beams in the room were blinding. Like a sword, the sun’s light pierced the increasing dark room in a final assault before succumbing the oncoming night. It is never good to hinder the sun. It always finds a way. I pondered the thought for a moment longer. I never did like the daytime.
It was the evening of the first day after returning from my immobile prison of my comatose body. I awakened again after falling asleep twice in the day. Each one of my attempts, dreams of monsters or imaginary daemons appeared randomly during my lucid periods. I could not yet tell the difference between my dream state and my awakened state. All I knew was that the Sasquatch had been real. The Sasquatch had happened. Everything else remained cloudy. I have ever seen a real monster. Tall and furry while still man-like...the image was ever present in my mind. I did not feel fear when examining the memory of the creature. Childhood mythos of the beast did not help the instant fear one would think they would feel; however, the feeling of sanity is still part of this reality. Curiosity reigned supreme, though. Not knowing how or why, only that I would see it again someday, was the conclusion every time
As I lay in my bed and watched the light continue its journey up the wall, thoughts of the creatures in my dreams continued to perplex me. It did not make much sense to me to have the same dream twice, but so far it had been the same thing each time. In the dreams, I fought and killed daemons. Nothing more. I used incredible swords to do so. It was my singular task. Both of my hands flexed at the remembrance. Yes, it was definitely two blades. The invisible items in my hands seemed so real, even when I held them aloft in front of my face. Something felt to be still in my grip, a phantom feeling, in which something tangible lingered. So unique was the experience that my hands still felt energized and strong. Placing them on the metal tubing the hospital bed had on the side of it to keep me from rolling off did not even equal this present sensation. The cold stainless steel mimicked the feeling like the hilt of a sword and was the right size for a giant man, but did not fit right as I was. So strange this experience was. It made me feel strong; only to be denied. Yet the ease of holding myself up, my arms were just too weak for continued attempts.
Patience, Dietz. You just woke up from a long nap laced with reoccurring dreams. I found myself saying the first part of this out loud repeatedly, like a mantra or a chant. The sound of my own voice began to drone a bit and I found my eyelids heavy for a moment. I shook my head as the feeling came over me not wanting to waste more of my life. I personally had a lot of questions and a few new goals to achieve. One of which was to get over my hatred of the revealing light.
No, you have slept long enough, snap out of it.
I slapped my face a few times even though there was not very much behind it; in fact I barely felt a sting. The sound slightly echoed in the room but reverberated in my ears like the beating of wings. Strangely enough, images of those creatures appeared again and started coming at me almost like they were dive-bombing me in a clearing. In they came over and over and the flutter sound grew in intensity. Not being able to fend them off any more, smaller ones began swarming near my face making me start flailing my arms instinctively. I heard the heart monitor increase its beeping sound, keeping pace with my heart beat.
Beep…Beep…Beep…
Faster and faster it went. Pressure in my head began building like it was in a vice grip. My eyes were having an issue focusing around the room. Closing them did not help, and my breathing began to race. Wanting to run and hide evolved into wanting to challenge and destroy everything and stand victorious over my foes, only to have it swing back to fear and running. Both emotions slammed me hard until one of them emerged the victor. I wanted to fight and watch the blood of my foes spray all over the battlefield. Just as I became comfortable with this idea, suffocation and pressure began crushing me. My condition monitor was going crazy as my heart felt like it was going to explode.
Just breathe!
My eyes shot open. I had been asleep again.
The lights in the room were on a minimal setting to prepare for evening, although dipping, the sun was still bright. Wait, it was in the same place… it had not moved or seemed to reset. All I could think about was patience. The answers would come soon enough.
What was happening to me? The same moment repeated. The light moving, the hospital sounds…all of it seemed to be familiar in a way that made no sense to me...yet I had never been in the hospital before, at least never for a stay. Only visits to loved ones or friends growing up. This chaos swirled around me causing confusion, and made cognitive thinking difficult. My breathing became my focus for hours in an attempt to clear my head.
I do not know how much time passed as I lay there experiencing a sort of dementia or delusion. My sanity felt like it was being over written and caused doubts as to what was reality for a moment, when I heard a voice from the corner of the room. I blinked my eyes. I could see a man sitting there in black clothing.
“Dieter.”
I lay there shaking my head as if it were a phantom coming to claim my soul.
“Dieter.”
I tried telling myself he was a hallucination. The dreams seemed so real and I was starting to think they were a figment of my mind as well, so there was no reason that what I was hearing had to be real. Again the voice came.
“DIETER!”
I had enough. “What do you want? Stop bothering me!” I felt hands on my shoulders start to shake me.
“Wake up, you’re dreaming.”
More shaking…. followed by a feeling of dread. My eyes shot open. Wait? My eyes had been open. A glance around the room revealed a man sitting in the corner. Wait, Déjà vu? Was it that same priest?
“Dieter,” he said. This time I saw his lips move. I finally felt like I was awake and the feeling of metal in my hands was there again. I wanted to swing my arms, but they felt so heavy. I just wanted to sleep.
“Dieter, I know you can see me. I assure you I am really here,” he said.
I lay there staring at him for several minutes before concluding that he was here and that my mind was not playing tricks on me. The light on the floor caught my eye, for it had not moved much still and was nowhere near getting close to setting yet. I had imagined it repeatedly or it was a dream. My courage finally mustered enough to speak.
“Yes priest, I am here and I see you,” I said.
“Did you doubt it? Truly?” he asked.
“You have no idea,” I said.
“Well can you give me an idea?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said.
“I think you can,” he replied with firmness in his voice. “Tell me what you have been seeing.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. Tell me.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“Yes, you can. Tell me. I know you want to,” he urged.
I was getting angry. It felt like the pressure in my temples was going off the charts. I wanted him to go away, anywhere.
“Tell me Dieter. I want you to say it.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Because you need to tell me, and I want you to say it. You need to hear yourself say it.”
“Fine!” I shouted. “Daemons! Daemons! There, I said it. Happy?”
“They are called demons…Continue,” he said.
“What? You want more. Okay, I smell their filth! I feel their presence! I hear their awful screams. And yes, I kill them. I fight them, and I kill them. Is that what you want to hear? It makes sense to call them daemons, I do not know why.” I was nearly in tears from rage.
“Is it the truth?” he asked.
I sat motionless. Our eyes remained locked. I wanted desperately to say it was a lie, to deny any such truth could possibly be real about my life. My life? Why? I wanted it to be false. When the moisture made my eyes blink, I turned my face away.
“You can tell me, Dieter.”
“Yes,” I answered quietly. “It is really true.”
Oh man, I suddenly thought. That sounds bad. I cringed inside.
The pressure seemed to release and I swore I saw him put something away. I looked over and he was just sitting there.
“There now, was that so bad?” he asked.
“Yes, it was. I did not wish to discuss it.”
“Well, perhaps you should tell me when you first started seeing demons?” he said, looking concerned and trusting.
“I have never seen a daemon.”
“You just said you had, Dieter. Why are you changing your story?”
“I am NOT changing my story.” I raised my voice because he was starting to anger me. I felt as though he was trying to convince me of something and I swear the pressure in my head came back and felt as if something invasive was attempting to dig inside. An image of pages turning in a book came to mind. Hitting my palm against my temple repeatedly did not make it go away. He sat there staring at me shaking his head. His gaze, penetrating, crawled all over and inside me and something about it seemed off as if he was looking into me. Extreme discomfort ensued. He was making me mad now, and I decided since my voice still worked to let him have it.