Lost Souls II: The Testament of William

Lost Souls II
The Testament of William



Where lights draw thin
And shadows dim
Beyond the chill of space
A soldier born
Where time is torn
To meet deaths darkened face



To William
Love Dad
April 29, 2005

First Light

“I think he’s been here before.”

He couldn’t remember where or why those words were spoken, or why they were so deeply engraved in his mind, but they were. He found them echoing through his dreams, and his nightmares. A strange source of comfort those words came to be. A sense of something more than what he could see or feel. And he knew these words were true...somehow.

He watched the dawn creep through the curtains, just like every morning, but today would be different. Today there was something to fear; the darkness that would bear unyielding evil. Not like before. Not like what his brother faced last year. Something worse. Something intent on destruction beyond anything ever imagined. Not only lives would be lost, but the very souls of every person on the planet as well.

He had seen it for over a month now. Small glimpses in his dreams. The face that emerged through the shadows; a face he recognized...from somewhere. The image echoed through his mind. So familiar, so repulsive in its smooth features; almost human. The morning light was the one thing that gave relief from the nightmares that broke into his mind. The morning light that he'd wait for while his body stopped trembling.

"Will," his mom called through the door. "Time to get up." He heard the tiredness within her voice.

Here it goes. The day begins just like any other. He could feel the fear mounting in his chest. Several deep breaths helped pull him from beneath the warmth of his blankets.

A bird began chirping wildly in the old tree outside his window. Suddenly, another bird joined the chaotic chorus, joined by another and another. Curiosity flooded through him, driving him to pull the shades back to investigate the commotion.

The image that he beheld grasped at him from the nightmares that wracked his sleep. An incredible flock of birds swarmed violently in the twisted branches. Their black wings beat the air in mass; their calls screeching toward his window. Toward him. Each of their glistening eyes drawn upon his.

More birds flooded into the tree, coming from all directions. The morning light shadowed by the mounting fury. Without warning, one bird flew into the window pane. Its body fell limp upon impact, dropping from view. A small sliver of a crack was apparent in the glass.

Drawing back from the window, he felt the horror of this image as de ja vu. He had seen this before... somewhere.

"Mom!" He called, backing into the door just as it was thrust open. He felt the back of his head flare with blinding pain. The room spun as his eyes fell to blackness, his body dropping to the carpet. The birds falling silent as they too fled from his sight.

"William," the voice spoke softly into his ear. A man's voice. Not his dad, someone else. "William, do you know where you are?"

He pulled his eyes open slowly. Beside him was an older man, tanned skin, dark eyes. His silver hair looked fake against his dark features. He wore a slight grin, almost in concealed amusement. A stethoscope draped across his brown leather jacket. This man he had seen as well. Again, his memory failed to make a connection.

Looking around, he recognized the room as a doctor’s examination room. The room where they give shots and tell you it's for your own good. The room he came to hate.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "My head hurts."

"You got clobbered pretty good," the doctor said. "You've been out for quite a while." He helped him sit up on the bed. "I'm Doctor James."

Doctor James...He'd never seen this doctor before. Not as a doctor at least. The name just didn't fit with the face. Something was out of place, he was certain.

William peered into the man’s eyes, searching for a clue; a memory connection. His head ached, dizziness threatened his balance, but he held himself upright before the man.

"Doctor," William began. "What time is it? I still have to go to school today."

"Oh, no you don't," Dr. James chuckled, sliding the little chair silently across the tiled floor. "The day is about over for those of us who didn't sleep through most of it." He raised an eyebrow behind a curious stare that held more than what was shared. "You're going to have a rough night, now that you're awake."

"You mean the day is over?" William guessed. How could that be? This was the day I've seen coming in my dreams, and it wasn't like this. Something's wrong.

"Oh yes, the day is over indeed little soldier. You've worried people sick. Your mom is home waiting for you. She should have your prescriptions all ready. Your Dad came up from Corvallis as soon as he heard. He'll take you home shortly."

"Dad's here?"

"He's here alright. Like I said, you've worried people sick with that nasty lump of yours."

"What about the birds?" He realized after he asked the question that he should have stayed his tongue.

"Birds?" Doctor James smirked. "I didn't see any birds flying around your head. That's just in the cartoons."

"Oh," he cut topic short.

"What birds would you be talking about, William?" The doctor pressed.

"Nothing." He tried to draw a smile to his lips.

"Black ones?"

A gasp pulled through his lips before he could stop. How did he know? Did I talk while I was out?

The doctor held the question in his gaze, allowing the silence to work against his patient.

William shrugged, eyes unwavering from the doctors.

"I see," Doctor James broke the quiet. Again, that awful grin appeared on his face, but the eyes did not even attempt to share the humor. "There are many things that are known, and many things that are unknown, William Michael. The unknown is where fear resides." The grin dropped instantly from his face, leaving bitter seriousness. "This is where you must dwell... for it is your time." A slow sigh hissed through his nose. "Remember this William Michael, you are not alone."

Two knocks erupted through the room. The door swept open suddenly; a nurse stepping in.

"William," she said abruptly. "Your father is here to take you home."

He felt the firm hand of Doctor James drop onto his shoulder, giving a single squeeze before leaving the room without another word.

THE FALL OF MAN

"Dad," William started as they drove through the faltering daylight. "I'm scared."

"Hey, buddy. The doctor said you'll be fine. You just need some time to recoup, that's all."

He wanted to spill out his fear, but speaking them aloud suddenly seemed insane. What would he say? Where would he start? It all seemed to be a bad dream anyway. Maybe he was losing his mind.

"Yeah," he let his voice fade into the music. Evanescence. Does he always listen to Evanescence? He could hear the soft humming coming from his dad. He could tell that the song was well known, although a bit off-key.


The pain throbbed dully in the back of his head. He could feel his heart beating against his chest. Hard thumps caused his whole head to ache with every beat. He felt the cool glass against his forehead, and was grateful for a moment of relief.

His wandering thoughts brought back the nightmares... visions... that persisted to invade his nights. The evening crept ever closer as the vehicle droned on. He rested his eyes knowing what might be waiting for him behind closed lids, hoping for peace.

A flash of pain jolted him upright; the seatbelt catching him across his chest. His eyes burned from the pain that flared from behind them. Fire, he gasped, pressing his hands against his temples, pushing the pain away.

“Ohhh,” he groaned leaning against the chilled window again.

“Hey buddy,” his dad said in the distance. “You okay there, big guy?” The voice seemed so distant, so far out of reach.

He could feel the car lurch to the side and come to a firm stop. A large hand pressed against his forehead. Too warm. He tried to pull away. Something in his mind, not his brain, not his head, but his mind; thoughts. Not his thoughts. Someone else’s, were pressing into his own.

He pressed against his temples even harder, but it didn’t stop the assault against his mind. Flashes of silver, electrifying. An image echoed with each. A face from the depths of his memory: familiar yet unknown.

William, a voice slipped into his thoughts. Suddenly, the pain surged unbearably, and then faded quickly to nothingness, leaving his mind free of all but a single image.

Through the peaceful darkness, he saw an outline of what appeared to be a large tree. The vision was obscure of details, but two forms stood beneath the canopy. He felt a sudden urge to yell to the figures. Something was wrong; they were wrong. Somehow he knew the figures were in danger, although he could not tell why. One of the forms reached into the canopy, drawing something from the tree, then handed the object to the other form. Fear flooded through his mind at what he was witnessing. No! He screamed in his mind.

Without warning, a blinding light flooded his vision, drawing the images in to nothingness. In the distance he could hear weeping; a man and a woman. Terrible sadness.

“….no, we’re stopped on the freeway.” The voice of his dad grew louder and nearer. He could feel the concern in his voice to whomever he was talking to. Probably mom. “You know I will,” his dad continued. “He’s coming out of it now. I’ll call you back.”

He turned his head against the glass to look at his dad. The thumping pressure in the back of his head seemed less now, although he could still feel the beat of his heart against the wound. "What?" he murmured.

"What happened?" His dad started. "Are you alright?"

"I think so." He felt a little dizzy, but strangely energized. "Yeah, I'm great."

"You sure? You were out for a second."

"Yep, the doctor said this might happen," he lied. He could feel his arms tremble slightly, glad that his dad didn't notice.

"Alright, let's get you home."

The car surged forward, picking up speed as they rejoined the flow of traffic.

"Dad?" Will asked. "What are you afraid of?"

His dad cast him a curious sideways look, pausing for a moment before answering. "Well, I'm afraid of a lot of things." A simple and vague statement.

"Are you afraid of things you can't see?"

"Things I can't see?" The strange question caught him off guard.

"Yeah, things that are evil."

"I suppose I am. What evil things are you talking about?"

"Oh, just some strange thoughts I've had." He wanted to tell what he had seen. Was Dad able to take it seriously? Maybe. "I... I'm scared." He hesitated with the words hanging on his lips.

“Hey buddy, it’s alright to be scared. It’s part of being human.” His dad ended with a heavy pat on the leg.

Part of being human… that was true, he supposed. Yet what he feared wasn’t human at all. It is the thing that should not be.

The final streaks of daylight faded quickly in the distance as they moved along through traffic. The hundreds of white lights, beady and bright from the on-coming traffic stung his eyes. Their silver specks moved in an unending flood, bringing back memories of the thing that tried to take his brother. He was proud of John, how brave he was. How he overcame such terrible fear to destroy the demon… with a little help, yes. But other than the seed, John was victorious on his own.

He remembered the seed and smiled to himself. John did use it well. Yes indeed. John had tried several times to get him to talk about that night, as if it would verify his sanity or something. No. He decided even before his brother was victorious to not speak of it, especially how he became involved. No. That would need to remain a mystery. At least for now, and maybe forever. So many lives were saved. So many souls were found and set free. Beautifully done, brother.

Somehow he felt that was his role in this life; to help find and free lost souls.


THE ARRIVAL

The winding road stirred him from his memory. Almost home, he realized. The trees lining the streets were dark silhouettes against the dully moonlit sky. The stars seemed to become more brilliant against the darkened trees as the minutes moved forward.

The shadowed trees scared him tonight. The darkness scared him. He turned once again to his dad, and reached out and grabbed his hand. “Dad, I’ll be okay…won’t I?” He felt a ball form in his throat and choked it back. He felt a large, gentle squeeze come from his dad.

“I believe you’ll make it through just fine.”

“I hope so…” his words trailed off as they pulled into the driveway. He could see the window blinds part with a golden glow before the front door opened. His mom stepped out, wrapped in a long housecoat, waiting to smother him with concern. Before he opened his door, he pulled his dad’s hand close to his chest. “Be careful tonight, ok?”

“You know I will,” he replied. “Let’s get you inside so your mom can take care of you, okay?”

A simple nod and he pushed his door open. The cold air pressed instantly against his skin, causing a quick shiver to flood down his back. His dad walked around and dropped a large hand over his shoulder. Together they walked to the front porch.

A quick movement in the night sky caught his attention. He had never seen bats around here, nor had he heard owls, but something definitely moved. And not too far from where they were.

“You had me so worried!” His mom complained as she drew him in to a deep hug. He hugged her back and even gave a small pat on her shoulder to help her feel better.

“I’m okay, mom.” He tried to sound convincing.

Another movement caught his eye. This time it dropped down from a tree and disappeared behind his dad’s car.

“What was that?” He asked, pointing.

“That would be my car,” his dad said. “You really did bump your head, didn’t you?”

“No! Really! Something is by your car,” He could hear the panic drive through his voice. “It dropped from the tree over there.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” his mom replied. “Probably just a cat.”

He felt her gentle push toward the front door.

“Okay big guy,” his dad said. “I’m heading out. Have a great night and try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll call tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

Before he could turn back, his dad had stepped off the porch and moved around to the dark side of the car. “Wait!” he called, but the front door closed with a heavy latch. He listened for a moment, hoping to hear the engine, but heard nothing.


DARK DREAMS

“Where’s John?” Will asked before taking a step.

“He’s already in bed,” his mom answered. “Come on, let’s get you laid down. You can read for a while before you get some sleep.” She disappeared around the corner as she spoke.

“I’m not tired, mom. Can’t I watch TV?” He anticipated the answer and dropped his knees onto the couch to look out the window. He still hadn’t heard his dad’s car or noticed lights passing across the blinds.

“Okay, for a little while, but not too long.” She gave in as she brought his favorite blanket from the back room. “Go ahead and lay down, then.”

He reached out to open the blinds, but he was pulled onto his back against the soft pillows. The blanket was draped across him. He was already starting to feel better.

“Mom?” He asked. “Has dad left yet?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s already gone,” she said. “Don’t worry about him. He’s fine. You need to worry about yourself, so get some rest, okay?”

“Can you check?”

“No, I’m not checking.” She stated flatly. Her gaze came flat as well.

“But…”

“No ‘buts’ mister,” she turned quickly away. “What did you want to watch?”

“Nothing.” He matched her flat tone.

She turned and dropped the remote onto his lap. “You can watch whatever you want, but you need to be responsible, right?” Her eyes were drained suddenly. “I need to get some sleep. Come wake me if you need me.” Without another word, she left.

He probably did leave. I just didn’t hear him. He convinced himself. Sitting in the quiet void of the living room, he simply stared at the controller on his lap. In the distance, he could hear the heavy breaths coming from his brother’s room. He envied the deep sleep his mom and brother were getting, feeling boredom creep into his chest. It’s going to be a long night, he admitted.

Suddenly, a cry erupted from his brother’s room. Terrible fear echoed through the painful cry into the dark hallway. The house fell deadly quiet, until another agonizing cry pierced the silence.

Will waited, blanket drawn tight, for his mom to investigate the cry of his brother. Minutes passed before the cry came again, yet his mom’s door remained closed.

Unable to sit idle, he pulled the warm blanket away and moved quickly down the hall. His brother’s door was closed, along with his mom’s. Another cry erupted through the door.

Turning the door knob, he leaned against the cold wood, but found it unmoving and solid, as if nailed shut. He pounded his fist against the wood, pain flooding through his arm with each hit. He moved to his mom’s door only to find the same. He could feel the panic begin to overwhelm his senses.

I'm alone.

Moving back into the living room, he caught the clock by the TV. 10:43 PM. He stood silent, listening for any movement in the house. His brother's nightmarish screams had stopped, for better or for worse, he didn’t know. There was no breathing, no stirring, to be heard...just silence, dead and cold.

SHADOWED FACES

As he stood in the silence, he felt the air turn to ice against his skin. His breath became plumes of steam before him.

Jeans and a T-shirt did little to prevent the cold from reaching his bones. Goose bumps and tremors coursed through his limbs. Returning to the living room, he draped his favorite blanket over his shoulders, fighting the mounting fear. The warmth provided little comfort for what he knew was inevitable.

I wish I wasn't alone

To his left the lamp resting beside the sofa began to surge. Its brightness diminished to nothing, only to flare suddenly as if on fire. He stepped away from the lamp, expecting it to burst into a violent display of glass shards, realizing then that the lights in the dining room, kitchen and hallway were extinguished completely. After several surges of light from the lamp, the bulb burned steady and low, sending crimson shadows throughout the room. He closed his eyes to the world that changed around him.

Why me? He questioned the darkness of his mind. Every part of his being called for him to run... somewhere. To hide, to bury himself deep away from this darkness that pressed upon him; into him.

Not alone.

Not audible. A thought. Not his own.

He felt his fears fade from his chest, as an aura of warmth radiated from above his head down to his shoulders. For a few moments the warmth persisted, only to fade to coldness, leaving him alone again.

In the center of the living room, a burst of flames erupted as a bright ball of in front of him. A deafening roar filled his ears, with terrible cries blended to make a chorus of pain. Startled, he dropped to the floor. Pulling the blanket over his head, he shielded himself from the intense heat, crawling across the carpeted floor to find safety behind the sofa.

Through the intensity of the screams, a deep voice resonated. A chant began to replace the cries, both surging with a slow motion. The heat surged in unison with the chant. The words indistinguishable.

Collectively, the voice and chanting blended together and slowly faded to a steady thrum behind the roar of the fire.

Releasing his hands from his ears, he pulled himself up to the edge of the sofa's arm.

The center of the room held a ball of flame suspended above the floor. The heat was bearable, and the room appeared to be safe from immediate harm.

Within the swirling chaos of flame, faces appeared and faded. Silent screams gnarled each of the faces. Men, women, and children, different races, shapes... each pressed their faces forward calling to him in their silent misery.

He stared in wonder as hundreds of faces passed before him. His heart sank for each life that was held captive in the ball of flame, and he fought the urge to jump toward the fire, to pull those souls to safety.

Suddenly, in a violent thrust, the surge of faces was swept aside, leaving the churning ball of flame vacant of any sign of life, swirling wildly.
Following his urge to reach toward those within the flame, he stepped out from behind the sofa and inched toward the fire. He peered into the blaze, searching for the faces that were swept away.

Suddenly, a dark figure darted across the wave of flames. Its size was distorted, but small, as if being seen in the distance. The shape looked familiar, similar to the figure that dropped by his dad’s car. Was it the same figure? He couldn’t tell.

The figure darted back across his vision, this time larger. It moved toward him at strange angles, growing larger, but still obscure of detail. He could see silver eyes pressing upon him as it neared, evil emanating from its stare. It looked like a silhouette of a slender man, long arms and legs, thin chest, but as it came closer, he could distinguish dark wings tucked behind the shoulders and sharp stubs protruding from the crown of the head. A demon, he realized in a wave of panic that caused him to stumble backward, landing on his outstretched hands.

“Mom!” he screamed. As the cry left his mouth, he knew it was without hope. His mom and his brother were locked in their rooms.

The demon stood still with its torso filling the flaming ball, as if it were a window to peer through. Now within five feet of where he lay, specific details could not be distinguished. The darkness that hid the creature seemed to come from within its own body. The eyes, he tried to avoid, but couldn’t. The silvery gaze locked him in terror that chilled his very core.

“The last,” the demon said. The strange words came as a low growl, not a language he’d heard before, but understood nonetheless.

He fought a sudden wave of sleepiness and exhaustion that assaulted his mind and body. After a moment, he stood upright, defiant against the demon.

“Give them to me,” Will demanded. The confidence in his words startled him. He knew what he wanted, the captured souls that called to him with their silent screams.

“A boy,” it said slowly. “Just a boy. Give yourself to me.”

He again fought off a wave that threatened to draw him to sleep. It was easier this time. Much easier.

The silver flames for eyes appeared to squint, peering with mild interest. “Curious,” it growled.

“You can’t have them,” his voice steady with confidence, in spite of what he was witnessing. “Let them go.”

A strange guttural of amusement came mocking his words. The flames surrounding the creature swelled and swirled violently. “Oh, child, you are a mystery. Even to me.”

In a flash of movement, the demon reached through the window of flame. And with a clawed hand blanketed in shadow, it grasped Will by the throat. The hand was like a block of heavy ice as it pressed against his flesh. He could feel his airway compress, smothering his gasp of fear and pain that tried to escape his lips.

Drawing his hands against the solid ice-like arm, he tried to pull himself free. But beneath his struggling fingers, the arm began to change. The cold shadowy arm turned visible where he touched it. The terrible cold became less painful to the touch, and he could feel soft muscles reluctantly releasing their grip on his throat.

Seeing the change, he clenched his hands even harder, not willing to release his grip with the changes that moved through the demons arm. He felt the hand open completely, and his airway returned. He could feel anger mixed with fear coming from the shadowed form, and then the arm was torn from his grasp, leaving him standing once again defiant.

“What is this that you are?” It growled. “Your child form is not true.”

Will didn’t have an answer. He guessed that there was something he was suppose to do… but what? His thoughts went again to those countless faces that screamed out to him. Suddenly, a wave of decisions cast through him. Almost without thought, without time to question his choices, he launched his body into the flaming sphere, grasping the demon with both arms around its thin chest. The cold form sent agonizing pain searing through his skin, but he held tight as the thing launched backward, diving into the swirling mass of flames that lashed out against his body.

Darkness engulfed him as the two hurdled into nothingness. He closed his eyes tight, listening to the dark howls of pain coming from the demon. The hardened body began to change as they fell together. Soon he could hear distant wailing of the multitude imprisoned within the darkness. He felt the body of the creature fighting wildly against him. The quickened beat of the wings thrashed the air around them both causing them to twist together in great somersaults. He opened his eyes and nearly released his grip at what he came to see.

The demon screamed as the two plummeted toward an enormous black pillar protruding out of an island surrounded by a great lake of fire. The island sat barren of life, with jets of rock thrusting in all directions like swords waiting for victims to fall from the heavens. As they tumbled toward the island, toward their death, he could see ghostly figures lining the distant shoreline.

The multitude that wails. He realized.

With a sudden surge of strength, he was pushed away from the demon, free falling toward the disfigured earth below. He watched as the demon took flight, leaving him to face imminent impalement and death. The evil laugh was mocking him again.

Closing his eyes again, his mind scrambled for an answer to what he was experiencing. This had to be a dream, but yet it was all too real. The fire, the pain, the laughing...

Suddenly, he realized that he knew what to do. With only seconds remaining, he thrust his arms open wide with his palms flat against the rush of air. His body slowed its decent with stunning agility, landing securely on his feet as if a weightless bird.

The laughing above him came to a sudden halt, replaced by a low growl that echoed across the dancing flames surrounding the island.

Looking at the winged shape soaring above him, he realized that the sky was filled with churning smoke as if it too were on fire. The light that filled his vision came from the lake of fire, casting crimson shadows across the jagged rocks amidst which he'd landed. The pillar, rough with its black pitted walls, rose above him like a monument he'd seen pictures of in books. There was no entrance, no windows, no markings to be seen. Just the flickering lights dancing between the thousands of crevices.

The demon's flight swept swiftly toward him. The torso and right arm were visible, red like blood, while the rest of the shape hid behind shadow. The penetrating silver eyes blazed as the thing descended toward him.

VALLEY OF SHADOW AND DEATH

Through the chaotic maze of sharpened stone, he wove his way toward the pillar, hoping for refuge in this horrible place of nightmares. The wings of his attacker beat the air above him, apparently unwilling to risk coming too close to the protruding rocks. To his left, a tight path came into view, circling toward the unseen side of the pillar. With his legs drained of strength, he came to a stop beneath a length of stone shielding him overhead. Gasping for the stale air around him, he could taste the bitterness of sulfur and smoke.

The demon’s wings could no longer be heard above him, and for the moment he rested in the strange shadows. He could feel his heart pounding beneath his chest, and the skin on his arms and face that touched the terrible skin of the demon. The back of his head ached, verifying that this was very real; not the dream he hoped it was. His fingers brushed the wound lightly, remembering the morning, remembering how scared he had been of the birds outside his window. He shook his head at the thought. Birds were a treat compared to this.

Pulling his legs against his chest, he buried his head into his knees. A wave of sadness chocked at his throat. Thin tears glazed his eyes.

“This can’t be happening,” he whispered through clenched teeth. The bursts of bravery…or foolishness surprised and shocked him. Now he wished he had simply given into the sleep he fought off. To give in and follow the others… it would have been easier. Now he was alone, hurting, and sapped of his strength and will. Even the demon had left him alone.

The world had no sense of day or night, no sun to give reason to the passing of time. Beneath the stone, he waited and waited. Before long the strange place and strange events could only be accepted as fact, and no amount of wishing could change that. Soon, he was bored.

In the distance he could hear the strange cries across the great lake. Steady and unceasing. Great sadness drenched in their mourning. Thousands upon thousands of souls, he guessed. Stolen.

The last, the demon had said. What did he mean? Frustrated, he pulled himself up and peered into the darkened sky. He found the pillar again and followed the path that encircled it. Slowly he made his way across the rough ground, cautiously reserving his strength.

The path opened before the great black pillar that stretched above him. A sharp edge dropped away to his left, drawing his eyes across a deep valley filled with moving shadows, as if alive and aware of his presence. Approaching the edge, he could feel fear flowing from the darkness below. Hopelessness. Despair. Death.

He knew that those that dwelt beneath him could not be saved. That they waited for the final death. The death of their very souls. And without looking upon the valley again, he turned away. The pillar awaited him.

GOLGOTHA

Above him, perched atop the pillar more than ten times his height, the shadowed wings of the demon stretched slowly to display their full expanse. It squatted confidently, as if this place were its kingdom, and the pillar its throne.

“Welcome, strange one,” it growled down to him. “Tell me…what am I to call you?”

Hesitant to answer, Will simply stood expecting the beast to swoop down without warning. He looked back to the apparent safety of the trail. He didn’t think he could reach it if he needed to.

He looked up again. “I’m Will,” he said slowly.

The silence between them was splintered by the persistent wails in the distance. Presently the creature spoke. “Will….” He drew out the name. “Why are you different, Will? Why do you prevent me from what taking what is mine?”

“What is yours!?” Will shot back. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I speak correctly, Will. The world has been promised to me, as were those in it.”

“Well, you can’t have any of it.” Will stood defiant once again.

“No?” it mused. “I’ve taken every soul from the world and brought them to this place…” an arm arched with the horizon. “…this place of pain and suffering. My Golgotha. It is absent of what you have…and what I want. Life.”

Was that sadness in the gravely tone?

“Why can’t you have life? I don’t understand?” Will pressed.

“This is my world, my kingdom, my eternity. I can bear this no longer, and I will have what is rightfully mine.” The wings began sweeping the air angrily. “I am tired of seeing your kind waste the world as if it would never fade away. I will create my own world. A world as it was meant to be… without humans.”

“Without humans? Who would take care of the world then?”

“Oh, Will,” it chuckled darkly. “I have legions upon legions waiting to be freed to claim the shells of those bodies left behind. Yet you will not depart from your body, and our great plans are delayed… for the moment.”

“I think I’ll stay with my body, thank you,” he enjoyed the sarcasm.

Suddenly, the demon flared his wings and dropped down from his perch with a roar, its silver eyes again ablaze with fury. Running with all his strength, Will rushed for the path.

As the distance to safety closed, he sensed that the demon was already upon him. Realizing that the race was not to be won, he turned to his right and dropped to the ground in a violent roll ending with his face toward the sky.

Beside him he heard a heavy thud followed by a blood curdling cry of anger and pain. With great effort, he pulled himself to his feet and ran into the safe confines of the jagged protrusions where the path cut its way around the pillar.

Stopping only a few paces into the path, he turned to view his attacker. The demon still remained in a wrecked ball on the worn ground. The torso and arm that were no longer protected by the darkness appeared to be bleeding thin sheets of silver liquid. The blood smoked as it touched the blackened ground beneath it.

Will stood in silent amazement at the sight of his fallen enemy. He fought the unreasonable urge to help the creature, to help it find the life it sought, to mend its wounds.

Above them, at the edge of the churning clouds, a mass of darkness formed, stretching from the distant horizon reaching toward the island.

He saw that the demon caught site of the enormous wave of souls flooding toward them, as it struggled to its feet. Silver blood continued to flow from its visible wounds. Turning, it stood facing the souls.

With a scream, its arms thrust forward and over its head. A shockwave shook the air around them, sending a great force into the sky causing the approaching army to scatter into thin pockets of dark clouds, most turning away from the island.

With a burst of courage, Will ran toward the demons back, jumping with a great cry of battle onto the ice cold body. He held his legs tight around the startled frame, and clawed his fingers around its throat. The wings beat wildly as he fought to keep his hold while the demons terrible claws cut into his arm. The cry of pain that erupted from the creature tortured his ears as the two lifted off the ground.

Below him, he could see the island begin to take shape; the pillar standing guard over the dark valley of shadow and death. The great lake of fire spanning to distance shores where a sudden flood of souls rushed toward them.

“NO!” The demon cried. “You’ll not take this from me! It is mine! It is mine!”

What have I done? I’m not going to make it… this will be the end…for us both. Determined to fight to the end, he pulled himself to the shoulders and curled the fingers of his left hand into the empty eye socket and pushed with all his might. Cold silver liquid quickly covered his hand and arm, falling in large droplets to the island below. The cries of pain intensified, blurring his vision, sending waves of pain into his head.

With a sudden sweep, the demon spun them into a free fall toward the island. The great multitude of souls were near enough now to see the faces of those closest, their ghostly shapes reaching toward them both. The cries of misery worn on the faces he had seen earlier were now replaced with determined eyes and clenched jaw lines.

The ground raced toward them both, and Will knew that the damage done by his touch secured their deaths upon impact. The jagged blades of rocks seemed to reach toward them to hasten the act. As they dropped from the sky, he realized that all was silent except for the wind rushing by his ears. He could feel the warmth taking over the icy body he clung to. The strange figure had become visible beneath him, and it no longer fought against him. It willingly fell to the death that awaited it. It knew it was defeated.

Suddenly, the swarm of souls filled the air, spinning them with such force; he was pulled away from the demon. The silver drenched face took form before his eyes, with a slender nose and mouth, as if carved from a great and beautiful stone of white and gray. The eye that remained held his gaze with its silver flame nearly extinguished, replaced with a fading blue light.

The bodiless figures around him lowered him to the island gently, leaving him in the open area near the pillar. They drew away from him, joining a huge mass circling above him. At the edge that dropped down to the dark valley below, rested the demon, the last of its life blood filling the air with its silvery steam as it fell to the ground in droplets.

“You need to let them go back now,” Will stated confidently. He drew his bleeding arm close. The sliver blood of the demon still clung to his skin as if a trophy from the kill.

The demon looked wearily at Will, nodding in agreement. “You… must… take them.” It gasped.

“Me? I don’t know how.”

A strange smile creased the stone like face. “You do. You just need to remember.”

Remember?

“You are here to set them free,” it said. “That is what is written.”

A cough of silver blood spattered upon the ground. It gasped in pain.

“Written?” Will asked. “Written where?”

“You do not know,” it said. “It is not written for you.” It drew a grated breath before continuing. “My time is not now… this I see. The written word speaks truth, and your coming was foretold, I…I…did not believe.”

“How do I leave this place?” Will asked. “How do I set them free?”

“William… beyond your years, yet you do not understand.” He shook his head slowly. “I will not tell you, nor show you the way. You are alone.”

“No, I’m not alone,” he said, looking up.

“They cannot help you,” it replied, that same dark laugh coming weakly.

“Not them,” Will said. With a thrust of his hands toward the sky, stretched out with the palms reaching up, he closed his eyes for a moment.

May the door be opened and the way is shown. Let there be a light upon their path to guide their return.

Suddenly, the dark cloudy sky parted in a great expanse that reached the horizons to his right and left. The light flooding through the opening blinded him for a moment, but brought no pain. He felt overwhelmed with peace and renewed energy as the light drenched over him.

Shielding his eyes, he could see the flood of souls moving into the light, disappearing from his sight completely. Within moments, the sky was clear of movement, and the awesome light diminished along with the expanse until it was no more. Only the churning dark clouds remained.

"You can have life, you know," Will said as he lowered his arms, satisfied deep within his own soul. His head, his arm, both still hurt but he found them easily ignored.

"You are a fool," it stated. "You know nothing.

"I know where life can be found... you simply need to ask."

Anger crossed the stone like face. It clawed the ground pulling itself toward him. "I'll ask for nothing!"

Will shook his head at the defeated creature before him. "Then you're on your own."

It lashed a bleeding arm out toward him and fell exhausted, breathing deep, trembling breaths.

"You won't die. It's not your time." Will stated sadly. "But your time will come, and here," he waved an arm across the lake of fire. "is where you shall meet your end."

Without looking upon the demon again, Will walked to the pillar and pressed both hands upon the stone surface. With a small thought, he caused a silver circle to form. Through the circle he could see the front porch of his house waiting in the rising sun.

Carefully, he stepped through the wall and onto the dew drenched grass. The cold air felt good against his cheeks. The morning birds cheered his arrival above him. He paused for a moment, enjoying the golden sky above him, gently turning blue on the horizon.

In an instant, he felt a rough hand clench his shirt, pulling him back toward the fading hole. Stumbling back, he willed the hole to close, and with a heavy thud, the hand the clenched his shirt dropped to the ground, silver blood burning into thin wisps by the rising sun, and before his eyes, the appendage flashed suddenly into a small ball of flames leaving only a small blackened patch of grass.

His heat beat wildly in his chest as he regained his balance. He could feel the peace and strength that had filled him dissipate with each heart beat, leaving him exhausted with the pains of his injuries making themselves known again.

"Will," he heard from his right.

Turning, he found his dad lifting himself at the front of the car in the driveway. Obviously drained of strength as well, he looked like he hadn't slept for days.

"Dad?" Will met him with a hug. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Yeah, you to, buddy," he groaned. "What happened to your arm!?"

"Oh, uh...I got scratched."

"You look like you been beat to a pulp. Let's get you inside."

As they reached the front porch the door opened, his mom rushed out and swept him off his feet into a great embrace.

"Ugh!" he groaned as his worn body suffered from her joy. "Mom, that kind of hurts."

Setting him down, she wiped the grey soot from his cheeks.

"He should get back to the doctor to get his arm looked at," his dad suggested.

"Good grief! What did you do?" she asked.

Before he could answer, his brother wandered weakly onto the porch. "You guys are way too loud. Can't a kid get some sleep around here?" He complained. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"I don't have a clue," he replied. "I think I passed out by my car. Maybe I need to go to the doctor too."

"I'm going to see if urgent care can see him," his mom said. She disappeared into the house. After a few moments she returned. "They can see him in about an hour, but something is a little odd."

She paused, apparently deep in thought. "He was seen last night by a Doctor James, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. Tall guy, leather jacket, earring."

"The receptionist said that he was seen by a nurse practitioner, not a doctor," she explained. "And that Doctor James died almost a year ago. In fact, she was mad that I even brought his name up. She thought I was being mean. She said that Doctor James was like an angel, and should be respected."

William looked at the faces of those around him and smiled. Without another word, he went inside and dropped onto the couch, his favorite blanket pulled tight to his cheek. As he drifted off to sleep, he noted the faint smell of burnt wood woven into the fabric.

The End

Lost Souls I

LOST SOULS


Between shadowed night, the dark and light
In a place where dreams begin
A voice will call from where shadows fall
To a boy who’s just turned ten.

To Johnathon (10th B-day)
With Love, Dad




Midnight Shadows
“Will!” John said through the darkness. He stood at the door to his brother’s room. “Will, are you awake?” Hearing only deep, steady breathing coming through the night, he guessed Will was still asleep.

Peering down the dark hallway leading into the dining room and the kitchen beyond, he saw the pale white moon light barely touching the wooden chairs. The light cast eerie shadows against the wall near him, like a ghostly cage waiting to trap him if he ventured too near.

The bathroom door across from his bedroom stood open, the single night light glowing in the darkness dropping even more shadows around the sink and toilet. He quickly stepped into the bathroom, not to find relief from nature, but to find relief from the shadows that lingered down the hall; that slivery white cage that threatened to trap him.

Closing the door gently behind him, he turned on the bright lights that flooded his eyes with instant pain, causing a groan to escape his lips as he shielded his eyes. A moment later he managed to blink the pain away and focus on the mirror.

His eyes were darkened by what little sleep he had gotten. He felt shorter than before; although he noticed his shoulders were hunched over as he leaned against the cold sink. What’s going on? He asked himself. “Ugh,” he replied with a frown.

With one hand he patted down the tuft of hair that sprang up while he had slept. He noticed his hands were trembling. He knew he had been startled awake from a nightmare but he couldn’t remember details.

“I’ll have better dreams this time…I hope.”

He turned out the bathroom light as he launched himself across the dark hallway, completely aware of the cage that still hung on the wall near the dining room; that evil, ghostly cage.

I’m ten, he thought with force. I’m ten now, and I’m not letting anything interrupt my sleep. He slid deep into his warm blankets and pulled them firmly over his head.



The Voice in the Dream
“Johnathon…” a whisper came across the wind. The sweet, soft woman’s voice called to him as it had before; in the dream he couldn’t remember.

“Do not be afraid,” it came again. So soft, so soothing, filled with warmth and trust.

Johnathon looked around to find himself in great field with thick grass reaching to his knees for as far as he could see. The moon overhead cast bright silver beams into the night, which made the wind blown grass across the gentle hills sway as if alive…as if breathing.

The breeze chilled his arms and face, causing a slight shiver from the cold. Another dream? He asked himself. Looking up into the night sky, he realized that besides the moon, there were no other celestial lights to greet him; no stars, no planets…just darkness.

“You must come to me,” said the voice again, riding on the breeze as before. The voice was familiar to him, but only from the previous dream, the dream where…

He struggled to remember the dream; to remember what had happened. The feeling of some tragedy, some horrible event hung deep within his heart. But just the lingering feeling, and the voice, stayed with him.

“Where am I?!” He called out onto the breeze. “What am I doing here?”
No answer came to him. No soft voice. Nothing at all; just cold silence.

Turning to face the cool breeze, he began walking toward the voice. He began to feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and the skin on his arms became tight with goose bumps. He rubbed his arms briskly to stop the goose bumps as they began to tingle slightly, but the cause was lost. It wasn’t the cold that caused the bumps, he realized. It was fear; fear that seemed to stem from the faint memories of the previous dream…the dream that was forgotten.

“Yes, my love,” the voice came to him. “I’m waiting for you. Yes, come to me before it’s too late.”

“Too late?!” Johnathon called. Fear caused trembling in his voice. “What do you mean? Are you in trouble? Is there danger?”

The force of the wind suddenly burst into a fury against him, almost knocking him backward. The change in the wind was more than shear force, he realized, the temperature was much warmer, almost hot. The raging wind ceased as quickly as it had come, leaving him partially paralyzed with fear. His feet refused to move, although he felt the need to run.

“What’s going on?” He called into the openness. His feet remained still.

“Over the hill,” the woman said. The voice was no longer soft, no longer soothing, but assertive and almost demanding. “Go to the leafless oak. There you will find the path you must take. I will lead you and you must trust me.”

“I will,” Johnathon answered. He felt a ball form in his throat, as if his body wanted to cry; to warn him of the dream he could not recall. Something bad is here, he thought. She’s in danger and I’m her only hope. He played these words over in his mind, trying to convince himself the truth of the words, but feeling deep inside that it could not be true.



Visions of Good and Evil
The top of the huge oak slowly appeared to him as he moved up the gentle slope of drifting grass. The oak was indeed barren of leaves and life. The silver moon light seemed to become absorbed by the tree, casting the heavy branches into udder darkness. The trunk, as it came into sight was nothing more than a faint silhouette against the flowing grassy plains that stretched beyond. The darkened shroud that embraced the huge tree caused a single, instantaneous memory flash; a vision from the lost dream:

A shadowed face, features indefinable behind the cloud of darkness appeared within arms reach. The face hung above him, as if it belonged to someone tall, but there was no body formed beneath the head. The specter’s eyes glowed with the same silver light as the moon, but tinted with red as if touched with blood.

The vision sent waves of panic through his body. His hands shook uncontrollably, and his head trembled as a tear rolled down his cheek. This dream he was in, he realized, wasn’t just a dream. The details, the sensations of the cold breeze, the hot burst of wind, the moonlight, the shadows, the salty tear that graced his cheek and the goose bumps covering his quivering arms were much too real. So real, in fact, he was no longer convinced that this was a dream, but in fact reality…somehow. He now remembered the face from before, but who, or what that face was he couldn’t recall. The deep, heart stopping feeling that there was great evil associated with the face was overwhelming. He suddenly wanted to vomit.

Looking out upon tree that he was directed toward, he noticed something else. Something just beyond the hill that rolled off to his left: another tree top. The few branches that waved gently over the grassy crest were brilliant in the moonlight. Each branch filled with vibrant and living leaves which appeared to be made of pure silver in the light that illuminated them. He felt drawn to the tree, drawn to the life that it displayed so eagerly to him.

“Come to me,” her voice called again. This time the breeze did not seem to carry the voice. This time she called from the darkness itself; the darkness that held the leafless oak before him.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “I’m afraid.” He could hear his voice tremble, and he hated it. “There is evil here, I just know it.”

“I need you, my love,” she countered. “I need your help. I need you now.”

He looked back to his left and caught another glimpse of the silvery tree limbs in the distance. That was where he wanted to go. He knew it was safe there, although he didn’t know why.

“What do I do?” He asked.

“Come to the tree,” she said. “Do not be afraid. There at the base of the trunk you’ll find an opening where the trunk was split. Pass into the trunk and follow the path.”

Again, her words were more direct and demanding than the gentle pleading for help she offered before. Even so, he followed her directions and walked down the hill to the edge of darkness where the silvery moonlight ceased to exist. Fear held him at the edge of the shadowed grass. He noticed, as he stood at the edge of dark and light that the grass beyond the shadow’s edge was wilted and dead; curled as if lightly touched by death itself. Each blade, gray and decayed, appeared dry and worn by the very darkness that pressed upon them.



Tortured Souls
Johnathon held his breath as he stepped out of the moon’s soft light. Instantly the moon disappeared and even the cool breeze died around him. The goose bumps that remained on his arms were drawn forth from the fear that gripped him. He pulled his arms around his body hoping for warmth and comfort, but found little from the touch. Slowly he walked toward the tree.

In the darkness he found his eyes growing accustom to the world he had entered. There was no light, but yet his eyes could make sense of what lay ahead. Slowly, he found that he could not only see this new world, but he could see details that were previously hidden from his sight. This new vision he possessed brought a new awareness of the tree that stood before him, and of the life…and death…that it held.

Stopping to examine the ancient oak with all its detail, he found the split in the trunk as was described. He could see that there was indeed a path disappearing through that split, and that a great sense of dread flooded out of it, as if whatever chamber dwelt below could not contain the terrors within.

The thick trunk rose up out of the rotting ground like an ancient obelisk, intricately carved with hundreds of tortured faces. Each face held its pain with unique and very realistic expressions. Each face told its own story, told a tale of agonies eternal and infinite. Too troublesome to gaze upon these many faces, he moved his eyes upward to where the trunk divided into the first of the many branches overhead, and from there to the hundreds of smaller branches that had once teamed with beautiful green leaves and nests for birds and hives for bees. But now the tree was all but dead.

The bark itself, gray and worn, seemed to split and peel away from the body, but somehow could not separate and fall to the ground to become the cycle from life to death, and from death to life, as it was meant to be. But instead, it looked as if millions of dried scabs were glued to the tree in some sort of horrible attempt to keep the tree alive; a horrendous act against nature itself. Unforgivable and evil, he thought.

Suddenly, something shifted above him. He heard a short gasp escape his lips, and felt his heart skip a beat. Squinting his eyes to pierce the darkness, he found a small figure grasping a branch and peering down upon him. Another figure, to his amazement, appeared on another branch; then another, and another, and another. After a few moments, he realized that there were hundreds of these little creatures spread throughout the canopy of decayed branches above him. He found the nearest one and focused with all his might to see what these things were. He guessed chipmunks and that was what his mind attempted to draw out of the darkness. But his mind couldn’t grasp what his eyes had found to be true.

The small creature he focused on had no furry tail or large eyes or fluffy cheeks to hold food. Instead, it had wet leathery skin, bare with each little muscle defined along with the crimson veins coursing along the spindly arms and legs. The hand that could be seen had each finger tipped with blackened nails, long and razor like. The one foot he could see looked as if it was squid-like, with small tentacles stretching out to grasp the branch in all directions. The head that looked down upon him drew back the vision he had remembered earlier when he looked upon the tree for the very first time. The eyes, small slits that stretched out from a blackened hole where the nose should be, glowed with a ghostly silver light. Although he sensed that it wasn’t really light as much as it was the spirit that gave life to the creature. He was gazing upon the soul of this…this thing. The creature then opened its mouth to reveal several short, black teeth that appeared to drip with whatever secretions pressed out of the gums. The open mouth appeared to shift into a grin, almost a smile, if such a thing was possible. Then Johnathon realized with a sudden wave of fear that the creatures above him began moving through the branches toward him. Lowering their gruesome bodies down to the next branches using their razor nails and tentacle feet, their focus upon him became intense and deadly. He could hear their rhythmic breathing, all in unison as if made of one high pitched lung. Silvery eyes beheld him with cold hunger. Johnathon made his choice: run.

The Voice in the Darkness
Johnathon passed through the opening in the trunk easily, as if designed for a ten year old body. The tunnel that he followed smelled of wet earth and rotten wood. There was another stench that pressed against him, one that he knew only from the dream that he forgot: the smell of evil. Could evil have a smell? He wondered. Must have, because this was it and it was awful!

He looked back through the tunnel and did not see or sense that he was being followed. The creatures, he figured, would be waiting for him to come out of the tree before they had their meal.

“Johnathon,” the voice called. Her tone was soft and sweet once again. He stopped in his tracks, waiting without a breath.

“My love,” she continued. “My love, come to me. This is the way. Do not be afraid. I need you to be brave. You, my darling Johnathon, can set me free.”

“You’re trapped!?” He asked. “Where are you? What am I to do? It’s so very dark and I am so scared.”

“Come to me, free me, help this pain go away. I can bear it no more.” She said with soft agony that penetrated into Johnathon’s heart.

“I’m coming,” he called out. “I’ll save you from this dark evil.”

He began moving through the tunnel again. Each step became stronger and more determined; he had to save her. He could sense that he was moving deeper below the surface with every turn. The floor seemed to drop slowly, almost unperceivable, as he moved on.

After what seemed like an eternity, the tunnel suddenly opened up into a vast chamber that stretched out before him. The walls to his left and right opened up from the tunnel to form an enormous V, with the tunnel at the point.

“I am here,” the voice said from the darkness beyond his vision.

“Where are you?” He said. “I can’t see. Tell me where you are.”

“I am here. Walk into the darkness. This is where you will find me. This is where you will see me.”

Slowly, he walked away from the tunnels walls and into the opening of the great chamber. He could feel a coldness drop upon him as a wave upon his skin. Goose bumps instantly washed over him, and a shudder ran down his spine.
I shouldn’t be here, he thought, fighting the panic that threatened his sanity.

“That’s it…come closer,” the voice said.

Johnathon continued slowly into the darkness. He could no longer see the great expanse of the cavern. He tried to see his hand stretched out before him, but there was only darkness. The cold the surrounded him felt like ice. His breath caused moisture to build upon his lips. He knew that he was at the heart of the evil here, but he continued on. The woman, the voice…it was here. She had to be found.

“Yes, my love,” she whispered from the emptiness that engulfed him. “You have walked into the darkness. You have found me. Now you shall see me, and you will understand fully.”
The Face of Evil
The vision that he recalled from the lost dream became reality as silvery, blood tinted eyes slowly appeared before him. The bodiless head took shape and hung in the darkness as it had in the vision. His heart pounded with such force, he could feel his shirt pulsing with each beat. His hands trembled and he felt his legs begin to loose their strength. He fought to remain standing; to remain conscious in the face of this evil.

“Wh-where,” he stammered. “Where is she? Where’s the woman.”

The ghastly face stretched its mouth wide to form a thin smile. He realized that the features of the strange creatures hanging in the tree were very similar to this thing before him. The eyes, the mouth, the skeletal void in place of a nose, it was disgusting and horrifying.

“But my love,” the face said. “My darling, I said that you would see me.” The voice did indeed come from this specter, this phantasm that smiled to reveal thin razor teeth, black and covered with thick bloody saliva. “And here I am to be freed from this suffering of mine.”

“No…you…this is evil…you are evil,” he said. “I must get out.” He tried to turn. He tried to run, but his legs, weakened from fear, dropped him to his hands and knees. Behind him he felt the demon move.

“You, my boy, are perfect,” the voice, once warm and soft, was now vicious and venomous, full of hate. “Fresh, ten years old. Still a boy, but you’ve shown such braveness and determination. You are the final piece of the puzzle I have waited so long for. So many years I’ve been gathering those that I needed, and now I have you, Johnathon, the final sacrifice that will set me free.”

“No…” He managed to say through his weakened lips. His body felt weighted down with the pure evil that hung over him. The dirt beneath his hands felt warm against his skin and soft against his knees. He felt a tear pool in his left eye as hope passed away from him. This was the end, and this wasn’t a dream. He would not wake up tomorrow.

As the darkness closed down upon him, he could hear the soft cruel laughter coming from the demon that was about to devour him. He could feel its movement again. The icy air shifted and pressed against his side. He knew that this thing was now directly to his right.

Help me, Johnathon cried out from his very soul.

Suddenly a shape took form before him. He felt the shift in the air before it fully formed, but when it did he gasped, energy surged through him as if to fill his lungs with air for the very first time.

The shape knelt down on one knee, and leaned close to his face.

“William,” Johnathon whispered.

The soft, transparent vision of his brother smiled with deep, knowing wisdom and nodded. The clear eyes looked down to focus on the hand that reached out. Johnathon followed and looked down. William’s ghostly hand held a single seed in the center of the palm. The seed was silver, almost metallic, and very solid; very real. Johnathon pinched the seed from his brother’s hand and clenched it tight.

Deep concern came across William’s face. His eyes drawn heavy by the evil Johnathon faced. “Use it well,” William whispered, and vanished without a trace.
Johnathon opened his hand and looked upon the seed with some confusion. The seed felt warm and alive. It brought strength and hope to every part of his being. He just didn’t know what to do with the seed.

Beside him the demon released a deep growl and the icy air shifted again. Johnathon knew this thing was going to put an end to him this very moment. Turning sharply away from the monster, he narrowly missed being bitten by the razor teeth this thing bore down upon him with. A great scream bellowed from the specter as its prey move at the last second; its feast stolen away for the moment.

With one swift, decisive throw, Johnathon hurled the slivery seed toward the demon. To his amazement the seed seemed to shift in the air, adjusting its flight to pierce the left eye of the monster. He watched as the seed vanished into the blood tinted silvery eye.

The demon held quick for a moment, trying to grasp what had just happened. Its nightmarish eyes shifted to meet its prey. A short burst of laughter assaulted Johnathon’s ears, striking fear into his heart.

What happened? He thought. I’m going to die now. The seed…I shouldn’t have thrown it.

The monster smiled its evil smile and dropped slowly down to the dirt floor. Their eyes met; their faces within inches of each other. The blood within the eyes seemed to move, to pulse to a chaotic rhythm that must have been this creature’s life force; its heartbeat, if that was possible.

“Do you understand the meaning of your life, my child?” The womanly voice came out of the mouth before him. The horrid stench that filled this chamber and flowed through the tunnel came directly from this creature. The evil smell was created from the very breath of his attacker.

The strength that he been given by the living, silver seed still flowed through him in spite of the evil pressing into him from all sides. Straightening his back, he rested on his feet beneath him while still kneeling. He lightly brushed his hands together, removing the wet soil from his palms. He refused to give in again. Thrusting his chest out in defiance he said, “My life is not yours to have.”

“But you don’t understand,” it countered. “I’ve been waiting for you. You are the last that I’ll need. You can set me free.”

“Free from what!?” He demanded, his fear quickly turning to anger.

The eyes of the creature shifted slightly, although the living blood within the silvery light still moved. A new expression appeared on the ghostly face. Was it sadness…despair? He wondered.

“I’ve been cursed, you see, my love,” it began. “And now it must end. For years I have been gaining strength from the souls of children such as you. For years I’ve been forced to lure my children to this place through the dreams I give.”

“Why me?” he demanded. “Why now?”

“You are now ten years old. Your spirit has strength and great energy, as do all ten year olds. You might say that you have ripened as a fine peach.” The face shifted again. Despair turned to thirst and hunger. “Yes, a fine peach.”

“You can’t have me,” he said.
“My boy, I do love you. You are the strongest, bravest, most noble soul to come to me. It is almost a pity such a strong one need perish. But your strength, your life will be of great use to me. And I love you for what you will give me. You cannot fight this. It is…inevitable.”

The eyes, he noticed, shifted again. The left eye, where the seed had passed, began to quiver. The flowing blood became slow, without the chaotic rhythm as before.

“What have you done!?” It demanded. The ghostly face shifted again.

Fear, he recognized. The icy air pushed against him as the demon moved away, back into the thick darkness.

“My boy! My love! You cannot do this to me. I need you. Save me!”

Johnathon rose to his feet. He could feel the strength in his legs as never before: his arms, his chest, his mind, all alert and strong.

From the dark depths the evil face rushed toward him, thrusting the thick icy air toward him as an ocean wave. The face, it seemed, was covered with metallic veins that grew out of the thing’s left eye, which no longer could be seen fully. The razor teeth that had filled the vicious mouth were broken and no longer dripped blood as before. The right eye that remained held a faint glimmer of crimson but the pulse that drove the chaotic blood no longer moved.

Johnathon spun to his left to avoid the dying creature’s assault. He watched the specter drop onto the floor, writhing in agony and fear as the last of its life faded before him. Within moments, the dark shape was engulfed by the sliver veins that quickly began to resemble a metallic root system. The speed of the growth was astonishing, and the light that was produced was full of life and energy. He stood in awe as the roots pushed across the cavern floor, reaching into the darkness, bringing light where none had existed before.

Run, a voice came to him. The voice, a child’s voice, seemed to come from his own mind, rather than the air around him. He knew in his heart that this voice was to be trusted. And so he ran.

Quickly he found the tunnel, which was illuminated by the silver roots that reached out along the tunnel walls faster than his legs could carry him. He knew that he too could be engulfed and trapped by these overpowering roots if he delayed.

The tunnel opened at the split in the trunk, and as he burst into the darkness, he suddenly remembered the tiny evil creatures that were waiting for his return. Looking into the branches over head, he found the hundreds of silvery eyes glaring down upon him. He could hear the high pitched rhythmic breathing they produced in unison become quick with excitement. The little bodies began to shift and sway and pulse in excitement.

Turning to look at the tree’s trunk, he found that the silvery roots had surrounded the large mass, completely covering the many carved faces of agony and despair. The trunk it seemed became solid silver. He watched as the metallic veins coursed across the limbs, reaching to the very tips of the highest branches. The scab-like bark no longer could be seen, and the living metal appeared to become solid as if shaped by an unseen craftsman. The beauty was scarred only by the creatures clinging to the silvery branches.

As he watched in wonder, he noticed that the creatures above him became subject to the flowing metallic veins. Each little body was quickly covered to resemble small statuettes, with only the silvery eyes glowing through small holes. Suddenly, the tiny creatures, one by one, began to transform into figures of jello, swaying gently side to side. Then each body melted away before his very eyes, becoming part of the tree as if they had never existed.

Johnathon found himself saddened by the annihilation of the entire mass of creatures, even though they appeared gruesome and evil. This colony absorbed into silvery nothingness brought a wave of tears to his cheeks. Beneath the silver tree that once was death, but now was life, he wept.

New Beginnings
The tears that wetted his cheeks felt the first wave of the cool breeze that danced across the grassy plains. The moonlight began penetrating the dying shadows and lifted his spirits. He looked out upon the hills that lifted the swaying grass toward the horizon. The moon, full and bright, rested before him as if to guide the way home. He began walking toward the moon, up the hill that he knew would lead to the silver tipped tree that caught his eye earlier.

As he reached the top of the hill, he looked back to the tree that was to be his tomb. He remembered the little creatures and the sadness for their lost lives which still weighed upon his heart. Then, as if waiting for him to look back, a host of small silvery lights erupted from the very tips of the branches that reached to the starless sky. He could hear faint cries of excitement as these lights scattered in all directions. The lights, he realized, were each of the little creatures being set free. They were released from the confines of the tree that absorbed them, to return to wherever they had come.

Johnathon felt his heart wash clean of the sorrow he had felt, and was overjoyed for these souls escape. He wondered if he were to have been a victim of the evil beneath that tree, would that too have become his fate? To become a trapped soul within an evil frame clinging to that decaying ancient oak?

He stood atop that gentle hill with great silvery oaks on either side of him. He loved the feel of the moon beams on his chilled skin. He loved the warmth emanating from both trees. This is heaven, he thought. I could spend a life time right here.

“No,” said a child’s voice. “Not heaven.”

He recognized this voice as the same child that instructed him to run. The voice sounded so very familiar, but he wasn’t able to identify its owner.
“Who are you?” Johnathon asked into the air.

“You must return now,” the child said. “You will remember…everything.”

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay forever.” He pleaded.

“You have brought peace and life to so many. You are a peace maker, and you will be blessed.”

The world around him began to fade as his lids became heavy against his eyes. He could feel his body rising above the swaying grass, toward the moon that waited for him.

Morning Light
Thud

Johnathon awoke to the bathroom door being closed across the hall. The sunlight pierced through his curtains, shooting thin streaks of pain into his eyes.

“Ugh,” he moaned, shielding his eyes. “What time is it, anyway?”

7:45 AM

“William,” he heard his Mom call down the hall. “A little quieter with the door, please, John’s still sleeping.”

“Not any more,” he mumbled to himself. Crawling out of his warm blankets, he pulled on his slippers and made his way out into the hallway. He could hear the television in the living room; breakfast was cooking in the kitchen. A wash of French toast greeted his nose along with the beginnings of bacon.

His head felt heavy as if he hadn’t slept at all. He moved his feet sluggishly down the hall where he found his Mom flipping the French toast, dancing in her strange ‘mom’ kind of dance to some Latin music playing from the other end of the kitchen.

“Hey!” She greeted him with an energy level that should be outlawed before 10 AM. “Want to dance?”

“Ugh!” He grunted toward her, feeling what little energy he had was being sapped just watching her. He moved into the living room and dropped onto the sofa. He loved the fullness of the cushions and was grateful that it was Saturday. He panned the living room for the remote, but was nowhere in sight.

A figure moved into the living room, slowly dragging each step as if still asleep. He looked up to find William drifting toward him. His brother’s eyes half closed, arms dropped to his side as he too dropped onto the sofa.

The television caught their eyes as the screen flashed blue.

SPECIAL REPORT

“This is a special report. I am Rick Knight,” the news man began. “This morning something has happened that has medical experts in shock. It appears that hundreds of people have suddenly awaked from their comas. Reports started coming in from across the country from hospitals in every state and almost every city. What is more bizarre is the connection that each of these individuals had with one another.”

The man paused, drawing a big gulp of air before he continued.

“Each of these individuals began their comatose state just after turning ten years old. These people currently range in age from twelve to fifty years old. Doctors across the country cannot comprehend this mass awakening, but families are overjoyed as their loved ones return to them. We’ll bring you more as this story develops.”

Suddenly, the television flashed off; the black screen crackling with static. Johnathon turned to meet his brother’s eyes. He was stunned to find the same deep, knowing wisdom upon William’s face that he had in the dream. With a blink of an eye the expression was gone, replaced with the same dreary-eyed look he wore before. William dropped the remote onto the coffee table.

“What do you remember?” Johnathon asked.

“Huh?” William responded, confusion crossing his face.

“Nothing, never mind,” Johnathon said.

William shrugged and made his way toward the kitchen. He moved with more energy than he had just moments ago, and with a slight dance in his step, Johnathon heard his brother sing:

“He used it well, so very well…oh yeah!”


THE END