“I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.”

Just Visiting

When counting backwards from thirteen becomes a ritual is there something wrong? Missing someone may lead to a variety of things, even new discoveries. Even if things are okay where one may be, well sometimes they don’t want to stay there.

Being nine years old and knowing exactly how to escape to a forbidden place seems somewhat unreal, especially if that place is occupied by starving demons. But one would be surprise what someone may do for someone they loved.

My mother warned me before she left that anything could happen to her. I had no clue that meant she’d be gone forever. Her story had made the news that night. With her car all bent out of shape and herself collapse over. Father watched the news every night until that night, because no one else had told us, and we were forced to witness it ourselves.

Days lead to weeks, which led to months, which totaled to a whole year. A whole entire year since we saw that news cast and watched mother die. Every morning I hear dad wish under his breath “Why couldn’t she have been a better person?”

One morning I asked, “Father, why wasn’t mom a good person?”

He looked strangely at me like he had no clue where the question had originated. “Lynda, your mother was a very good person,” he replied after thought. “She just wasn’t very religious. And well, I just hope she’s okay.”

I walked away with the new worry that my mother may not be in the happy place that is subjected for the afterlife. That is what Father was talking about, I was sure of it. After that I went back to my room, where I kept the chest with the few of Mother’s belongings I managed to smuggle before Father stashed everything of hers in the shed outside.

Underneath my old baby blanket and teddy bear was four things of my Mother’s I hope I never lose. There was her journal, a locket, a hairbrush, and a small handheld mirror. I pick up the journal and open it to where I left off.

Finally, I think I have cracked the code. After years I’ve discovered a way to visit the place where demons lurk, where heat is abundant, but the king hates outsiders. This place is rather a nightmare however. By laying down in bed and right as you’re falling into sleep, you count backwards from thirteen. Once you say one your thoughts lead you to a new place.  I believe I found a way to Hell.’

          Closing the book thoughts eat away at me. Is my Mother there? In the place where demons lurk? I picked up the mirror and looked at myself. I see that my dark brown curls need to be brushed, and my green eyes appear slightly bloodshot, I haven’t slept well since the incident. “Will I get to see Mother again?” I asked myself and watched my lips form each of the words.

That night I lay in bed, and I look out at the stars. Then I begin to count. “Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two… one.”

Suddenly I feel myself begin to fall. My bed seemed to disappear and everything has gone black. Nothing is around me yet I feel wind rushing past me and my heart dropping as I do. Hitting the ground, not nearly as hard as I would’ve suspected, I look around to see where I am.

For miles I see ash covered ground and smoldering rock. I can feel myself start to sweat thanks to the radiating heat. The air is dry and smoke fills my lungs. Where am I?

Just when I thought I was alone behind one of the heated rocks I see a dark figure move. It comes out from the shadow and begins its way towards me. Its skin is almost as black as the ashes on the ground. I jump when I hear it growl at me. Its teeth are barred and appear to be rather sharp. Its claws scratch the ground as it walks.

As it gets closer I see I’m shorter than it by a longshot. I look about one-third of its size. I walk backwards slowly until I stumble back. I fall to the ground and feel the heat from the smoldering rocks.

This creature is now hunched over me and I see the hatred in its eyes. The pain it must go through. A whistle is heard behind this beast and backs off of where I lay.

It must have a master… That’s when I see her. My mother stood there next to the beast like she controlled it. “Lynda?” She asked when she saw me.

Without any thought I stand up and race over towards her. She catches me with a hug and I begin to cry. “I never thought I would see you again” I sob.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so happy to see you. But how did you get here? This is no place for you.

I began to tell her about her belongings I kept in my chest back in my room. I explain that Father kept hoping she was okay in where she was now.

“Well honey…” she began “I don’t know how to explain this. But after the accident, my soul was sent here.”

“Mother where is here?” I asked.

“Don’t you remember? I believe in the journal I wrote that the method you must’ve used to get here was a way to visit Hell. Why anyone would want to come here for a little vacation I will never know.” She shook her head.

“Why are you here?” I said curious.

She paused, looked at her Hell hound and turned back at me. “I’m not sure.”

Before I could speak another word a loud roaring erupted from behind me. Like and earthquake the ground began to split and me and Mother both run back to get away. Flames emerge from the crack emitting light into the shadowy place.

A figure comes out of the flames and silently makes its way over to us. With a deep voice much like a man’s it points to me and says “How have you gotten here?”

I stammer and begin to panic. “I’m…I came to visit my Mother”

He stops and looks at Mother. “Did you know about this?”

Terrified she responds with, “No, no… she came here on her own.”

Looking down on me the silhouette like creature used a voice of authority. “Don’t come here ever again. Mortals are not welcome here.”

“May I please visit my Mother? I haven’t seen her in a year…”

He began to laugh. As he did so he held out his hands and a rush of wind began my way. Then I felt myself being thrown back to my bed.

I toss and turn in the sheets and finally untangle myself. What did I just witness?

Night after night from then on I tried to go back to see her. But the counting didn’t work. For years I researched ways to Hell. I could never find my way back.

That creature had banned me from Hell for as long as I would be mortal. But I will make sure of I will end up there. I know I’ll see her again. No matter what it takes.

For Eternity

Days and nights have begun to mesh together. Foot prints follow behind him as he drags his feet behind him. Trudging his way through continuous miles Alcandor soon felt exhausted. The question of why his friends left him out to roam these desert lands no longer explored his mind. Now it was the question of if he could survive another step.

The sun began to set which caused the air to begin to drop a few degrees. Alcandor could only hope the temperature would continue to fall. He finally chose to sit down a while and rest, maybe clear his head from roaming around the past two days. He closed his eyes for a moment, and as he did so he felt his world become black. Alcandor could still feel his limbs; actually they seemed so sensitive he felt every little thing around him.

A figure began to approach him; it seemed to be made of light. It slipped out of the shadows and waltz toward where he laid. He felt himself sit up but Alcandor couldn’t see anything around him except whatever or whoever it was that was coming his way.

Once it got closer he began to pick out features. A perfectly created face, red rounded lips, deep violet eyes, and long black hair. Long dress reaching her ankles made of such a dark purple its almost black, contains rips and tears and is all tattered at the ends. Perfectly shaped body finishing off with bare feet, and toes painted black.

Without him noticing, this woman managed to be right next to him. She knelt down and caressed his cheek.

“Hello darling.” She purred. Even her voice sounded angelic, it was like she was singing.

Alcandor opened his mouth to speak but his throat was so dry no words poured out.

The woman put her finger up to his lips and proceeded to speak. “shhhh now. Don’t speak love. I’d like to explain to you who I am, and what is about to happen.” She grinned showing flawless white teeth. “My name is Eternity, and I have been with you your entire journey.” As she spoke she waved her hands and when she cupped them together she pressed them to Alcandor’s lips.

“Here, have something to drink.” When he opened his mouth chilled water rushed in, quenching his thirst. He cleared his throat; it was still dry but felt better.

“Thank you.” He managed to form the words.

Suddenly he felt his stomach churn with such pain it was unimaginable. He curled up on his side and tried not to make a sound. Eternity looked down and smiled. “I hope you didn’t believe beforehand you were out here alone. No one is ever alone.”

Alcandor coughed some more and frowned. “What do you mean no one is ever alone?”

She paused for a second as if she was thinking. Eternity then proceeded to say, “This world is filled with so many people, souls, and lives that exist around us. We are never alone, not even in the depths of our own minds.”

Still curious he wanted to press on with more questions. But when she laid her hand on his cheek he felt his surroundings rush past him. His vision was a blur except for the beautiful Eternity standing before him, staring into his eyes.

Eternity brushed her fingers along Alcandor’s face and he felt his heart stop. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and a thin smoke escaped from his cracked lips. Alcandor fell back and she stood there watching. With a smile she turned and spoke, “We are never alone. For I have been in your dreams, As well as the other travelers. I am what each of you hopes for. And end to your suffering. I deliver what you ask for, whether you know that or not.”

With wind taking the dust along the desert for a ride Alcandor’s body lays in the sand. His eyes are closed, but his soul is missing. Death came to him in a very deceiving way, it confronted him with beauty. He looked death in the eye and without a second thought he trusted its grace. Now he has entered its realm of no return.

The Kingdom of the Ill

Beneath the feet of a hurried crowd the cobblestone chatters, speaking of all the tales that has been hidden behind these walls. The tales that speak of those with broken limbs, failing arteries, sight of the unseen, paranoia of things around them, and even those in impeccable condition.
Children from vast origins line up eager to be admitted entrance into the gates. Filing in behind, marching, are their parents, grandparents, siblings, anyone, and everyone. All of them are so gravely ill.
Some should walk out with bandages, medicines, crutches, a new mind set, and some should not have made a single change. However they all are diagnosed with something terrible. With only one cure many are far too afraid of. For the only cure for the horror of living is the beauty of death.
What connects each and every beating heart other than the one thing each one is sick with? For living causes the wicked ones to accomplish their deeds, and the naïve to continue breathing without an evil thought.
Living allows the tongue to form lies, the heart to create hate, and the mind to muster up revenge. People become bitter and spiteful due to others of their kind acting upon such cynical thoughts. Such thoughts tainted with sinful avarice.
This sickness leaves these patients terrified of this world, anything may cure them of this disease, however many do not mind that. Countless souls have such a fear of breathing, of having their heart continue beating, and these souls plot their own demise. While others despise the existence of other minds out of revenge, greed, fear, and any other humanly thought.
So while all these diseased and stained minds crowd together, a single boy analyzes the faces around him. Scarred, sick, pale, dark, dirty, and even clean faces hurry around the boy. And as the child tries to perceive the intentions of the ill, he notices that the most brute looking of faces still shed a tear. He notices that no one can truly hide their fears.
This is why all people are the same until they are in such a cadaverous state. Each soul alike, all with different intentions, but all have the same violent human nature.
The little boy can stop and stare, but to dive into the mind of another seems inevitable. Although every soul suffers from the same sickness, every heart with the same diseased beating, people believe they are different from one another. How can one’s mind even comprehend the fact that it’s not unique? Far outside of a single person’s looking glass lies every other creature alike. And everyone, every single person, has the same nature. Even the innocence of a small child is corrupt.
Each one walking on the cobblestone ground, every person a victim of this sickness. They only have one way out of this establishment. And that is the beautiful miracle of the deceased.