Keening Country

by Seán O'Connor

  With his eyelids getting heavy, Adrian hadn’t the energy to get himself up to bed – the thoughts of the funeral tomorrow were too much to process right now. Instead, he lay down his weary head and passed out.

  Grief’s infernal flower was in full bloom under the melancholy sound of the wind. Within a dream-like haze he watched a figure in black stand on the opposite side of the cold graveyard, eyes cloaked in darkness, taunting him from beneath the hooded shadow. Adrian could not take his eyes off it as it haunted the vicinity. I really am starting to fucking see things…

  He followed the priest and watched intently as his wife’s wooden coffin was positioned above the hole. Flowers with torn stems tapped gently against the lid as it descended deeper into the cold, dark earth. They say, when you die, a loved one or guardian angel comes to greet you and help shepherd you over to the other side, but as he watched the coffin hit the dirt, his focus shifted to the dark presence that wandered close by.

  Adrian’s appearance was scruffy, generally. Fond of a drink and not much else, but at least, for this day, he’d made an effort. Dressed in a sharp black suit with matching shirt and tie, he certainly looked the part of a grieving widower, although his face hung with an unwavering look of dread, eyes sunk inward filled with watery hopelessness. That said, he was doing a better job at keeping it together than Zoe had anticipated, which he supposed was the least he could do for his dearly departed.

  Rumours circled suggesting Molly’s suicide and for whatever reason nobody seemed to blame Adrian. In fact, the priest sympathised and figured he must have been in a lot of pain. Both sides of the family were in attendance, all feeling the awkwardness that is associated with death, but they still managed to emerge from their comfort zone and walk up to look both Adrian and Zoe in the eye and offer their sincerest condolences. After a while, Adrian found himself standing by the grave alone, staring into the abyss.

  The gloomy menace continued haunting in the background and with every deep breath Adrian took, his eyes focussed past the priest and fixated on the shadow. It glided effortlessly with the grace and elegance of an Olympic rhythmic dancer. With every slide he watched the human-shaped cloud meander about.

  Despite everything, Adrian knew it was all in his mind. He was not religious in any way, but he knew enough to know that good spirits don’t come to welcome the souls of those who choose to exit the world. His family always thought that he’d be the one to make that selfish choice someday. After all, he was a drunk and on the road to ruin – or at least he was in the stereotypical sense of the word.

  He looked at his daughter, who seemed to be holding it all together quite well. She’d never leave home without her customary black eyeliner, black vest, black jeans, black boots – in fact, everything in her wardrobe was black. He knew her peers slapped a goth label on her, which if you were to look at her and make a snap judgement could be true, but he always felt that beneath the dyed black hair, pale face makeup and dark clothing, she was just an artistic soul without a mother who needed to find her own way in this world.

  The rain didn’t let up all afternoon. It had accompanied the coffin and the hearse from the church to the burial ground. There had been frost on the ground that morning, but thankfully the grave had been dug the day before.

  The winter-spring crossover brought a renewed sense of freshness to the land. Daffodils would bloom soon and some of the bare trees surrounding the graveyard began to bud. The air wasn’t filled with pollen yet, but the smell was one that could be enjoyed, despite the heavens being open all afternoon.

  Dirt hit the wood with a muffled thud in the rain. Someone in the nearby crowd cried while a woman, probably a neighbour, struggled to control a bout of dry coughing. And despite everything that was happening, Adrian found himself not lingering on guilt or the shadow that haunted the far side of the plot. Drifting in and out of coherence, the priest’s raspy voice rising high and low had barely registered with him. In fact, the only thing that did register with him was the dancing shadow that continued to plague his vision. He couldn’t help but feel he was struggling to deal with everything and as the cemetery emptied, mourners were met with strong gusts of wind and sporadic pelts of heavy rain – the type of rain that stung and could turn skin raw. Umbrellas didn’t stand a chance and offered no shelter from the conditions.

  He needed a drink.

  At home, Adrian stood by the bath, watching steam rise and condensation build up on the white tiles. He needed to wash away the day and find some solace in the situation. But his thoughts were consumed with frightening images of his wife haunting him. If she was, then why? Was she trying to tell him something? A harbinger of brighter days? Or perhaps impending doom. He needed closure and the burial wasn’t enough.

  Hot water turned his skin red as he slid into the bath. He felt dizzy from the heat and took some time to relax. Then he lifted his arm from the water, over the side, reached down and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and proceeded to neck it straight from the bottle. After a while, he felt the effects and couldn’t shake the thoughts of losing his mind over his missing wife. For seven long years he refused to believe she was dead. No body, no death. She had to be out there somewhere and the never knowing was becoming a cross too heavy to bear…

  He reached down the side of the bath again, only this time he carefully picked up something smaller, shiny and sharp. He then lay his arm out along the top of the water, studying his veins, before allowing it to sink slightly below the surface. With the blade, he pressed hard and flickers of red danced along the steel.

  This is it now, one final hard drag and I’ll be free.

  He tightened his grip on the blade and readied himself to pull it along his veins with a deep breath—

  There was a loud bang, and Adrian dropped the blade. The bathroom door bounced off the doorstop and to his surprise, he saw Zoe standing there with a look of shock on her face.

  “Dad?”

  He didn’t reply, instead he scrambled around in the water and tried to retrieve the blade.

  “Dad!” Zoe screamed, finally realising what was taking place.

  “Get out of here.”

  Zoe ran to him, reached in and grabbed both wrists. “What did you do!?”

  “Stop, please—”

  Zoe ignored his pleas and pulled his arms from the water; blood oozed beneath her fingers.

  He went limp in her grip and before he knew it, floods of tears ran down his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  She pitied him and they embraced.

  Later that night, they both sat at the kitchen table without saying a word. Adrian knew what she was thinking, he could see it on her face. Confusion, despair and anxiety, all rolled into one big cluster bomb, waiting to go off. He felt guilt for what he’d done. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I am, sweetheart. I just—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. First we lost her and your answer is to check out too?”

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

  “Lies. If I hadn’t found you, you’d be dead by now,” Zoe shouted, bursting into tears.

  “Maybe you’re right, sweetheart. I’m losing it. I’m seeing her everywhere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve a confession. The night you heard your mother in the static… I heard her too.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I figured it was the occasion, or the booze, getting to me and my mind wasn’t with it,” he replied, then dropped his face into his hands.

  “And you let me carry on thinking I was crazy?”

  “I don’t know what is going on, Zoe. Maybe she is haunting us or trying to send us a message?”

  Zoe sat in silence, processing everything, then got up from the table and went to the shelf where he kept his booze.

  “What are you doing?” Adrian asked.

  “Something I should have done years ago�
��” she replied and then proceeded to uncap and pour his liquor down the drain.

  He wanted to stop her, but something compelled him to say nothing and let her do her thing. After all, he did give her a serious scare and she was in just as much pain as he was, if not more.

  When Zoe finished, she turned and stared at him. “Consider this an intervention, Dad. No more alcohol for you. It’s time we accepted that she is dead and we are moving on with our lives.”

  Adrian was shocked by her sudden calmness and at how grown up she instantly sounded.

  “Here’s what is going to happen. I’m going to go stay with a friend of mine for a couple of days and you’re going to get your shit together. Take a few days off work and put everything up to this point behind you, okay? Leave it in the past, Dad. Or else we won’t have a future.”

  He understood her demands and did not argue. She was right. Whatever visions or sounds he was experiencing didn’t matter anymore. It was time to put them all in the past, for her sake. She needed a father and he needed to be there for his daughter.

  After Zoe packed a bag and left, barely saying goodbye, he felt alone in the empty house. He wanted to drink, but resisted the urge to go and get some booze. He figured the loneliness he felt now must have been what Zoe felt for the last seven years. A father there in body, but not in mind and like Molly, he was gone too.

  She’s dead and nothing I can do can ever bring her back. I don’t know why she left us, but I think I understand now. Unhappiness drove her away and I hope wherever she is, she is at peace. I love you, Molly.

  One week later, Adrian was feeling better, his thoughts no longer riddled with grief and the unknown. He hadn’t felt the urge for drink since Zoe had intervened; a new routine had been established. He was up early, clean, exercising and eating well. His mood felt better and he’d already noticed a difference in his body. And with his new positive outlook on life, it was time to return to work and start getting everything back on track again.

  Work was good for him. He enjoyed it and when asked to cover a week of late shifts, he was happy to accept. Loneliness no longer got to him. In fact, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt satisfied with everything.

  He pulled into the carpark and readied himself to take the last train home. Outside, a soft layer of snow blanketed everything. The air was crisp and fresh and there wasn’t a sound to be heard, other than the snow crunching underfoot as he made his way to the train.

  On the platform, no passengers were waiting to board and that was okay with him. He noticed the sky had cleared and figured it’d be a peaceful journey.

  “How ye, pal? Haven’t seen you around in a while, you’re looking better these days,” a familiar voice said from behind.

  Adrian turned to see James Mulligan standing by a ticket machine and smiled.

  “Hey Jim, thanks.”

  “How about that drink later?”

  “Sure thing, Jim,” Adrian lied, and instantly wondered why. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to tell people he was off the drink, statements like that are usually met with a series of questions. “Will call you in about an hour or so.”

  Mulligan didn’t reply, instead he nodded with some sort of semi-salute, which Adrian took as an ‘okay.’

  After the engine roared to life, Adrian stuck his head out the window and shouted, “I hope there’s no wildlife getting in the way tonight.”

  Laughing, Mulligan replied, “Just keep your eyes peeled, pal. Who knows what is out there at this time of night?”

  The train rumbled along the tracks and Adrian watched the sky clear, revealing twinkling stars. On either side, snow covered the embankments and the track shined from the low temperature. He felt at peace from the ambiance of it all. He checked the cameras. There were no passengers tonight, they’d probably all taken a snow day from work and stayed home with their families, something he suddenly found himself wishing he could do.

  Zoe… I wonder where you are now, sweetheart.

  He knew she needed time to heal and hadn’t chased after her. To press her after all she’d been through would only make matters worse. An old head on young shoulders. He knew she could take care of herself; she’d been doing so for the last seven years. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was okay and he promised to himself that he would be ready for her return.

  Static crackled from the speakers, then sounds from his favourite radio station came through. He smiled and the train ran onward.

  In the dark of the night, a sudden realization dawned on him… he was approaching the spot where he thought he had hit that woman. Her face flashed in front of him, an unwanted image at this time. He shook the thought from his head and tried to focus on the tracks; then his thoughts were interrupted by a hissing from the speakers. That familiar sound he knew all too well. “It’s happening again!” he screamed.

  His eyes searched the tracks, but there was nothing. With panic, he turned the radio off, but the static still crackled and hummed. Sweat began running down his back and he felt himself slipping. Then his reactions kicked in and he pulled the emergency brake lever that hung from the cabin ceiling. Beneath him, the wheels locked and began screeching on the tracks. Among the static he was sure he could hear Molly and Zoe calling to him. Was he losing his mind? Was this actually happening?

  He expected to see the woman or even wildlife this time, but nothing appeared in front of the train. He feared the worst. Eventually, the train came to a halt and the static stopped. He could have sworn he heard Molly whisper to him.

  He checked himself in the side mirror. His face was pale, his hands shook uncontrollably and that was when he realised he was in a state of shock.

  We’re here…

  The words whispered to him again and the sounds from the speaker stopped.

  Adrian exited the train and walked in front of it, his cold breath catching in the headlights. “Hello?” he shouted into the night sky. “Is there anybody out there?”

  Silence.

  “I’m losing my mind,” he told himself over and over again. “Get yourself together, Adrian.”

  He took a moment to compose himself, deep cold breaths and a count of ten did the trick, for now. Exhaling, he searched the sky, his eye catching something that did not belong there. It was the black object he’d seen before, only this time there were no obstructions.

  He walked down the tracks towards the thing. It hung in the sky, black and motionless, no light reflecting off it. Mesmerized and fixated on it, all sound seemed to vanish from around him. No crunch from the frozen stones between the tracks or air leaving his body. Time stood still.

  Beneath the object, Adrian stared up, watching as it seemed to descend from the sky, slowly. As it got closer to him, he could hear a low droning.

  “Hello?” he called out.

  The object stopped about ten feet above him and the droning sound faded. He could see the thing was oval in shape and suddenly a small red light appeared at its centre. Deep down, he knew there was no reason to be afraid.

  The light shone on him and with it he could hear static. Encrypted voices calling to him, telling him that everything would be okay now. And that was when he realised what was happening. Everything became clear. Molly had more to her than he could ever imagine. She’d spent years searching for help and was selected – summoned to the stars.

  The object came closer and he noticed all the snow around him melt away, but could not feel any heat.

  “I’m looking for my wife!” he shouted.

  A bright spotlight replaced the red beam and surrounded him. He could no longer see anything that resembled earth., only white light and the black oval from which it came.

  The static sound intensified and he could hear her, clearer now, the same words over and over again. It’s okay, honey, you have been selected. Let go of the past and come join us.

  “Molly? I don’t know—”

  Dad, it’s okay. You ha
ve been selected. Come join us.

  “Zoe? Is that you? What is happening?”

  The static stopped, and he could feel himself starting to rise… and at first, he tried to resist by trying to drop to his knees, but there was no sense of gravity. Only light in all directions and the black oval within touching distance. Unable to blink, suspended in nothingness, he had no choice but to commit to the celestial power.

  With the only remaining sense he had, he reached out and placed a hand on the oval. It was cool, like a stone. “Molly! Zoe! I’m here.” And before he knew it, everything went dark and the sky was clear.

  A cold breeze returned and the train stood idle, its task incomplete and with it, headlights began to fade, plunging the machine into darkness. Above, something streaked across the sky, its origin and destination unknown.

  THE END

  THE OBSESSED

  The thought of a blade running along her wrist made Garima Kapoor feel sick, but this didn’t stop her from searching for that elusive feeling – a sensation that she found hard to explain when she tried to justify her actions to herself. And as the blood ran down her hand, dripping from her fingers, she thought to herself I hate Mondays. Or at least she thought it was Monday? It was hard to tell these days with insomnia corrupting her mind…

  Beneath her eyes, black sacks hung, weary and tired. It was hard to focus on anything, resulting in her parking herself in front of her window watching the world go by – with a sugar-loaded coffee in one hand, and a blade in the other; an activity she didn’t mind all that much. In fact, she found the road outside her house to be quite interesting. Her neighbours to the left – the Carroll family – were involved with some sort of political party. She’d often see them coming and going on their campaign trails – not to mention the number of random visitors that arrived. She couldn’t know for sure, but imagined that they were a bit of a shady family.