Haunt stared at the ceiling, which sparkled with crooked, purple stalactite, then closed his eyes trying to hold onto the remnants of the most wonderful dream. He was with Marigold again and they held hands. They were back in college and both incredibly young. He could remember having butterflies in his stomach back then.
A slight breeze caressed Haunt’s face and blew away the beads of sweat that dotted his neck and forehead.
The man in the desert, who looked a lot like his friend, Steve, stared down at him. While his appearance was almost exactly the same, Haunt knew it couldn’t really be him. It wouldn’t make sense, given where he was. This wasn’t the real world. It was…somewhere else.
The imposter’s bald head was engulfed in a sharp, green aura like a halo. He grabbed Haunt above the elbows and squeezed. A line of spit shot through his yellow teeth and landed in Haunt’s right eye, making him squirm.
“Who told you to head toward the trees?” the impostor growled. “Answer me!”
Haunt opened his eyes and saw the green aura expand until it encased the impostor’s body. He now saw through its transparent skin.
“You’re…hurting me…” Haunt managed to get out.
The imposter squeezed tighter. “ANSWER ME!”
“Imagination!” Haunt blurted out, kicking his feet.
The impostor’s eyes widened and Haunt felt the grip loosening for a moment before being squeezed again.
“Who told you to head toward the forest?”
“I just told you. Imagination did! He—ow, ow, ow!”
The impostor loosened his grip a bit, but not completely. Haunt continued.
“Imagination told me to head toward the trees. He said my wife was there. He called you the Great Deceiver.”
The imposter’s mouth dropped. “He called me what?”
Haunt regretted even opening his mouth.
The impostor stood up and Haunt stared at him. It was Instinct, no question. He could feel it in his belly. The green aura that hummed around him now was the same light that had surrounded his “mother,” back in the desert.
Instinct shook his head. He sat back down by the rock wall to the right and buried his face in his hands. The green aura intensified.
Haunt tried to sit up but a dull pain pinched his spine. He rubbed his back and his skin felt tender.
Instinct got up. “Be still. You’re still hurt.”
“What happened to me?” Haunt asked, lying back down. “I remember the centipede, but then, I was in this immense darkness. There were these people there grabbing at me, and then—” He shivered. Wherever that darkness was, he never wanted to go back there again.
“You were poisoned by guilt from your past,” Instinct said. “But I got it out of you. You’ll be fine.”
Haunt thought he could see Instinct’s heart, but it didn’t really look like a heart at all. Instead, it was a green orb. It hovered in his fading chest and flashed rhythmically with sparks shooting out of it. They crackled around its core.
"Why did you help me back there in the desert?"
Instinct lowered his eyes. "I exist to help people. Look what it's cost me."
He looked down at his body as if he was studying it for the first time. He was consistently green, and it made Steve’s black skin look almost alien, like he was wearing a thin veil of cellophane around his body. He looked lost in thought and stared at his hands as if he had just strangled a man.
Haunt tensed up. His back was on fire. Instinct stood over him, and for a moment Haunt wondered if he should be afraid. But Instinct took a knee and put his hand on Haunt’s forehead. Haunt instantly felt cool again.
“Why are you doing this?” Haunt asked. “Imagination made you seem like the devil.”
“Which is what I don’t understand,” Instinct said with Steve’s voice. “We were supposed to be on the same side, but he lied to me, and I need to know why.”
Instinct paced around the cave, his aura fading in and out as he did so.
“If he told you to head toward the trees, then he must have said the same thing to your wife. She did what you did.”
“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean?” Haunt asked. He remembered Imagination told him something like that. He had sent her to get the baby. Haunt wondered if Marigold had found him.
Instinct looked off into the distance. "She wouldn't let me save her. And it was too late for me to transform like I did for you. I don’t know where she is now. She might be in the darkness. She might be anywhere.”
Haunt’s heart sank like a rock. “What happened to her?”
“Her greatest guilt came after her because she wouldn’t go with me, just like what happened to you. But unlike you, I wasn’t able to save her in time. I didn’t transform.”
Instinct made fists and exhaled. “Why did Imagination do this?” His shout echoed in the cave. His green energy was very different than the blue that Imagination possessed. This green was fire.
Haunt was afraid for Marigold but he couldn’t give up hope. He felt closer to her now than he had before when he first headed toward the trees. She wasn’t gone. Not for good, anyway. He felt it. Her face was behind his eyes.
“Where are the trees in relation to…here?”
“Why?” Instinct asked.
“Because my wife’s there. I don’t know how I know it but I’ve felt her presence ever since I got here. I can even smell her shampoo. She’s alive.”
Instinct looked at Haunt and his aura flashed so brightly that Haunt had to close his eyes. When Haunt opened them again, Instinct was staring out the cave.
“I will never doubt a human who feels with their full heart.”
Instinct rushed over to him, grabbed both his arms and Haunt felt strong again, strong as he felt back in the desert when he thought his mother had returned.
“Try getting up,” Instinct said. Haunt watched as dark circles and bags formed under Instinct’s eyes. Healing apparently didn’t come without consequences. Instinct looked twenty years older in an instant.
Haunt rose and brushed himself off. He felt better.
“Now what?” Haunt asked.
“Now, we try to make good on your feelings.”
Instinct ran toward the mouth of the cave and Haunt followed.
“Hey, wait up!”
The light ahead was bright, and when Haunt ran out the cave’s mouth, he saw a flash. Haunt put up his hand, and when he put it back down, there was an enormous ostrich standing before him. It stood about double the size of a normal one, and Instinct sat on top of it. The blade and the shotgun were criss-crossed on his back again. Haunt noticed a new white patch just over Instinct’s left ear.
“This will get us there faster than a horse,” he said. “Get on.”
The ostrich bent its knees and lowered its giant body to the ground. Haunt climbed up behind Instinct. When the beast stood up, it felt like an elevator ascending.
“Before we go, there’s one thing you have to know,” Instinct said. “If your wife is alive, I can’t physically help her. Only you can. I already died for her once and I can’t do anything for her now. I don’t know why Imagination did this to us, but I’m going to find out. If you find your wife in the forest, then we’ll all go to Imagination together. Deal?”
Haunt nodded, watching the trees on the horizon.
“Good. Now hold on tight!” Instinct said.
Haunt wrapped his arms around Instinct’s waist as the beast vaulted across the rugged terrain. They raced toward the trees. Haunt was prepared to see his wife again. He was ready to make things right.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You did well.”
Marigold heard the words as her eyes fluttered open. She moved with a start but didn’t get far. Her arms and legs were bound by glistening white ropes and she was tied to an immense tree stump. The stump sat in a small clearing. Thick tree trunks surrounded the clearing, and bright, glowing lanterns hung from some of the low hanging branches. The ropes burned as th
ey dug into her wrists and ankles.
“Thank you, sire. We’re sorry we had to knock her out, but—Oh, she’s awake.”
Marigold rested her chin on her collarbone. Her eyes immediately focused on two white figures.
One of them looked different.
He wore an Indian headdress with red, yellow and green tipped feathers. The light from the hanging lanterns made the headdress resplendent.
She blinked and their swirling faces, which had haunted her dreams, flickered once and changed. Their noses grew slender and their faces slimmed down so that their cheekbones popped out. Their eyes became gunmetal gray and their lips grew pouty and full like a model’s. A subtle layer of stubble surrounded their perfect mouths. Brown hair, once nonexistent on their bald skin, started to sprout until it was laid out evenly, but purposely messy, on their heads. Small strands of it hung down in front of their eyes. Their bare chests disappeared beneath white, button down shirts. A red tie and navy blazer with matching pants completed their look.
Marigold’s heart raced. They were models of her idea of a perfect man. A set of perfect teeth smiled on their beach-tanned faces, and a white glow engulfed them like angels. The two men were similar in appearance but the one on the right had a golden hue about him. She met his gaze. Marigold’s breath caught in her throat as her desire for him consumed her.
Her panties grew wet as she imagined the feel of his hands on her skin. She tried to close her legs, but they were tied spread apart. She caught movement on the periphery, six or seven more of the men, all of them dressed in blue suits and power ties stared at her. They were smoldering, but something was strange about them. A hunger filled their eyes and it gave her chills. People that beautiful shouldn’t look like they craved her. It was unsettling.
They opened their perfect mouths and began to chant a low, eerie hymn. It reminded her of Gregorian chants.
She looked back down at the beautiful man with the headdress and he smiled.
“Welcome, Marigold,” he said in a strong, husky voice that made her face flush. “Lady Logic has said much about you.”
The sound of his voice resonated in her head. Each word was like a kiss on her neck. Her body felt warm and her nipples stiffened as if he had just poured droplets of ice water on her chest. She moaned.
Her other captor fell in line with the others. He, too, began singing, and swayed side to side with the crowd and their haunting hymn. They were one body, one spirit.
“I’m not going to lie,” the beautiful leader said. “It’s been a long time since a human has come through these parts. Especially one of great importance like you.”
His smile made her heart melt.
“The truth is, Marigold, we want you,” he continued. “I want you, all to myself.”
Sweat trickled down Marigold’s forehead. For a moment, she was ashamed of her white hairs and her chubby stomach and jowls. But then, just as quickly, her shame evaporated and was replaced by a sultry feeling of lust. She felt sexy underneath his gaze, sexy underneath all of their gazes. It was as if her dowdy face and old age was desired here. She wanted all of them to rub their hands up and down her legs and fondle her breasts; wanted all of them to slip their dicks inside of her 49-year-old slit, one at a time. Slowly at first, and then fast, like a locomotive.
But it was strange. In the back of her mind, something nagged her. It was a small feeling, like the nuisance of having a piece of loose skin hanging from the roof of your mouth. But it was there, and it affected her arousal. The golden light around the beautiful man started to flicker and dull, and he began to look a little darker.
“You see, we desire you, Marigold. We want to fuck the shit out of you. Every last one of us does. Don’t we, boys?”
The chanting continued and she saw the beautiful people nod simultaneously. But their nodding blurred. It was unsettling, but also mesmerizing and mystical at the same time.
“The thing is, as much as we want to, we can’t. Or rather, we won’t,” he said, and the chanting lowered to a hum. “The great and wise Logic has advised that we must sacrifice you to our god, the almighty Love. In doing so, we shall prove to Him that the people of lust are more than just”—he pantomimed jerking off, then, twiddled his fingers in the air—“We are capable of greater things than mankind’s own selfish needs and desires. Just like Love Himself, we are capable of self-sacrifice and restraint. We are not fleeting and fickle and we can be just as pious as our great lord. Can’t we, my brothers and sisters?”
A hum of approval circulated, and the beautiful people nodded again. A white light flashed in their chests.
“We must show our god that the people of lust are not the mindless, self-seeking offspring of Him, but rather, well-meaning, pieces of His greater good. In other words, we are Him and He is we. We can be just as good as Love Himself. Can’t we, my brothers and sisters?”
There was a brief pause from the crowd before they started humming again.
“I see that some of you doubt my claims, but don’t be deceived. We were all made in our Lord’s image, and thus, share in His bounteous glory. Even if our faces change and our bodies morph to suit those who call upon us, weren’t we all still made as a component of Him? And in being Him, are we not one with Him as well? For it is mankind that has used us for its negative purposes, not the other way around.”
There was more agreement from the crowd. Their chanting grew louder.
“We may be the harbingers of wanton sex and infidelity, but we are also the bringers of joy in mankind, and most importantly, of life. Surely, that can’t be denied us. Surely, the negative doesn’t outweigh the positive.”
The crowd continued to nod in their strange, synchronized pattern, all as one.
“This forest wouldn’t have the same purpose and power without us. As much as mankind respects and cherishes our Lord, Love, it is we, the beings of lust, who truly makes them happy. For we bring forth that erection. We bring forth that titillation. We are mankind’s ultimate pleasure, from the rich to the very poor. But again, my brothers and sisters, that is not all we are, and our Lord needs to know that. Our Lord needs to see us for who we truly are—His equal!”
Their lights grew steadier.
“Because by sacrificing this fecund woman, full of the delicious life of a future messiah, we shall show Love that we are capable of not getting what we want all the time. We are capable of compassion. We are capable of being patient and even giving, just like Love Himself. Today, my brothers and sisters, He shall learn that it doesn’t have to be take, take, take, from the people of lust all the time. He shall see that we are prepared to sacrifice this woman as tribute to Him. We may be sacrificing what we all want to do with her, but we will be gaining His respect in the long run, which is the first step to a greater union with Him. This is the start of a new day, my people. This is the day of lust’s great sacrifice.”
Hearing the word sacrifice come out of his mouth so many times set off a switch in her head that halted the moisture between her legs. She had been told to make a sacrifice herself a long time ago, back in her house, and she wasn’t making it. She was giving in, but she wouldn’t let it continue. What mattered most floated back to the forefront of her mind. Somewhere in this forest was…
Her Aiden!
She shifted on the bark, thinking about her dream in the bathroom, and the facades around her fell instantly. Their wardrobes changed back to their sexless crotches and bare chests, and their faces became swirling tunnels again, a mess of eyeballs and mouth.
“Lord Love,” the leader said. He wore the headdress again and was naked like the rest of them. He turned to the trees and spread out his arms. “Wake up, my Lord and see what we have sacrificed for you.”
Through the tall trees that disappeared into the darkness of the forest, she heard leaves rustling. It was high up and something breathed heavily just then. Had it been there all along? Its outline was about as tall as a three-story house. It opened its red eyes. They glistened l
ike rubies.
“What do you want?” the outline said in a voice that rumbled like aftershocks beneath floorboards.
Marigold gasped. Was that supposed to be love? It was horrifying.
“Greetings, my Lord,” the leader said. “We have brought something for you.”
Marigold shifted and rubbed her arms up and down the white ropes but it was no use. She couldn’t raise her limbs more than two inches from the stump.
In her limited perspective, she made out that even more of the white beings crowded around her. Their sharp glow illuminated the area and made the trees entirely visible.
Love huffed.
“Why have you brought her here? Who is this?”
“A messiah’s mother, my Lord. I’m sure you can gather what we wanted to do with her, given all the legends about the mothers of messiahs. But we didn’t. We preserved her, just like you would have done. We, uh—” he looked down, scratching his nape. When he looked back up, he didn’t have anything else to say.
Love stood there. Marigold couldn’t take her eyes off of it.
“Aren’t you proud of us?” the leader eventually asked.
“Who told you to do this?” Love asked, its baritone voice snaked into her ears and crawled under her skin.
“Nobody, we—”
“You prevaricate,” Love grumbled. “Someone told you to do this. Who?”
The leader looked down.
“Who?” Love demanded, sending a sharp gust of wind into Marigold’s face.
“Logic,” the leader said quickly. “It was Logic. She came through here and—”
“Silence!” Love said, its red eyes flashing. “She hoodwinked you. Now, you shall suffer.”
Marigold continued to watch Love in the darkness. All she saw were its eyes, which were each the size of the moon. It felt like the entire forest was watching her.
“Please, my Lord. Show mercy!” the leader shouted as he got to his knees. All at once, the white beings’ faces swirled out of control like bubbles in a turbine.
“You will, but not by me. It appears that death rides an ostrich.”
At Love’s cryptic words, something could be heard in the silence. It sounded like rushing feet, and they were coming right for them.
The Darkness of the Womb Page 10