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Shiver
TV sucked tonight. A friend of mine, if he was here, would say, “You need a new TV, this one’s broke”.
“Why do you say it’s broke”?
“It’s gotta be broke, there’s nothing on it”.
In my head, I couldn’t agree more. I shut it off. I was feeling lazy tonight. I didn’t even want to pick a movie from my vast collection of tapes and DVDs. I lit a cigarette and leaned back into my plush couch. It wasn’t satisfying, but I was bored. Nothing like a good oral fixation to relieve boredom.
I leaned forward to drop my ash into ashtray when the lights blinked. There was a loud pop and they blinked again. Very quickly. You would have missed it with a blink of your own eyes. I looked up at the living room light waiting for it to happen again. It was like tripping on something while you walk down the street and you look back at the sidewalk as if you’re going to kick its ass. “Go ahead try that one again, ya mother”. Just as I got bored with watching the light, they went out. Hard. It was pitch. I turned and looked outside. The street lamps were out, the house across the street was dark; it was plain dark. Not even the light of the moon to illuminate anything. I took another drag, seeing the glow of the cigarette. Nothing worse than not seeing the smoke. It takes the fun out of it. I took another quick drag and went to put it out. As I did so, I could swear I had seen something, felt a presence. Right in front of me.
I froze. My right hand was down in the ashtray putting the cigarette out. It burned me. I yelped, putting my burned finger to my mouth. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I felt the air around me move. To my left. No sound. Just a push of air. I would have thought the vision was a flashback from the TV, but I definitely felt the air move. All of my senses started to kick in. I slowly turned to my left. Someone was there.
I could feel their breath. I went to punch out hard with my right arm when it licked me.
On the neck.
I bolted straight away from my left and tripped heavily over my coffee table. Face first into the carpet, I spun and faced my assailant. He jumped on me and started licking me fast. My heart was pumping so hard, I almost forgot to laugh.
“Get off of me, boy”. I had to push Wolfy, my golden retriever, away from me. Apparently, he was more frightened of the dark than I was. I felt ridiculous and my shin was killing me to boot. I carefully limped into the kitchen to find some candles.
There was a loud squeal as I opened the drawer of one of my cabinets. But there was something else. I stood motionless, certain of what I heard. A whisper, someone whispering my name, from the dinette. I thought I was hearing things. Looking around was pointless. I pulled my lighter out of my pocket. I heard a scraping noise from inside the dinette. Wolfy was behind me, licking at my hand.
“Stop it boy, not now”. I could hear him sit down on the ceramic floor, his tail swishing back and forth. I lit it and looked around. The dinette, just off the kitchen, was a huge room with fifteen-foot ceilings. I lifted the lighter trying to see in to the room. Scanning left and right, I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Another scraping noise. It sounded like a tree limb against the roof of the house. Wolfy started barking. I shooshed him, thinking nothing more of it.
I started to look away when something moved. On the ceiling, by the top of the right wall. I peered in closer. A large foreign object was attached to the ceiling wall. I stepped one-step closer and what appeared to be a wing dropped down to almost touch the floor. I stepped away and a face came out from under the wing. An ugly, gaunt, skin-stretched-so-tight-you-can’t-believe-your-fucking-eyes face. With bright, yellow eyes that had black holes deep in their center. It smiled at me. I froze. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The thing opened up its other wing and dropped to the floor. I heard a very large squishy sound and an inflated popping sound as he made impact with the floor. I stared at it hypnotically, gulping once. The heat of the lighter on my fingers brought me to my senses. I dropped the lighter, turned, and ran through the darkness. I tripped over my barking dog and sprawled headlong into the dining room, just off the kitchen, scraping my face on the carpet. I could hear the enormous body stepping across the wooden floors behind me. Then Wolfy really went berserk, barking and growling. The sound of the wings dragging was unnerving. My dog’s voice became a very dangerous low growl, followed by an enormous screeching howl, a hair-blowing whoosh of air, a yelp, and the sound of something dripping on the floor. I knew Wolfy was dead and that I was next.
Not bothering to ask why this was happening or what in the world that thing was, I bolted for the front door. Anywhere but inside this house was safe. I made the front door in a second.
“Richard” was whispered in my ear, traveling the length of my spine, giving me the chills.
Yeah, like I was going to answer. I almost pulled the front door off the hinges trying to get it open.
I almost made it outside. One foot out the door and the dark sky lit up with a tremendous blast of lightning, showing me what should have been the front yard of my house. It wasn’t, yet it was in a horridly surreal way.
My front yard was now a seething pool of grayish muck, slowly seeping into what I used to call a driveway. There were bodies floating on the surface of the muck. They were being rolled around and around. One of them pleaded with me to save them. When I didn’t answer, he made for the shoreline. I couldn’t make sense of why they were rolling until a large mouth emerged from the gray, snapping at one of the bodies, cutting it in half, a primordial yell accompanying the spray of blood and the sound of rending bone and flesh. It was as if they were being turned to look for the soft spot. Once the first bite was taken, the water exploded in a tumultuous roar of feeding and bodies desperately, but unsuccessfully, trying to make it out of the pool. The one that spoke to me almost made it out to my left, only to be grabbed by an ankle, screaming for mercy. The body was whipped up and back down into the muck. The sound of its crashing skull against another was sickening.
The grayish muck was quickly turning red. One of the feeding creatures stopped what it was doing and looked right at me. I could almost see the sensual invitation to go for a swim. The sky filled with lightning again and I could make out the sinfully feminine shapes of their bodies. Even the face was alluring, until she opened her mouth. Her entire face was seemingly taken up by enormous teeth in distended jaws that seemed to be five feet long. There were large pieces of bloody flesh hanging from its teeth. I shuddered in disgust, pointing my eyes at what my driveway and the street had become.
The driveway was a stream of brown, moving lumpiness that fed into a larger, seething river of blackness, where the street used to be. People could be seen trying to stay afloat as the fast moving current of the river hurtled them to my right, out of vision blocked by large pillars of stone where men in shamed nakedness were hung by their wrists, writhing and jumping to avoid the snapping teeth of those in the muck that weren’t getting their share. Those that disappeared behind the stones were screaming with hysterical abandon, their high-pitched screams sounding like a thousand nails being scraped across a blackboard. They could see something ahead that I could not. As a whole, they were holding their hands in front of their faces at the behest of keeping themselves afloat, as if trying to hide from whatever lay in wait for them. I could hear the horrendous sounds of tremendous screams being cut short and bones being broken and crunched. My stomach was doing somersaults. I couldn’t bear to watch. The sky lit again with violent bursts of lightning and claps of thunder that shook the ground. I looked across the river.
My neighbor’s house across the street was nowhere to be seen. In its place was an enormous tree silhouetted against a red sky blackened with streaky clouds, seemingly a thousand feet high. Bodies were slithering in and out of the tree. Its large limbs were moving, caressing and guiding the bodies that flowed upward through its leafless branches. Sighs of ecstasy came from where only my old neighbors should be watching bad TV, just like me. In the background, distant winged shapes were flying high above, circling columns of smoky, swirling fire that reached higher than my scope of vision. Some of those shapes were flying down and picking up a body that had made its way to the top of the tree. Their sighs of ecstasy turned to echoes of agony as they kicked and struggled to be released from the grasp of their captors. One of those flying shapes lost his prize, pausing in mid-air to watch as it fell wildly gyrating to somewhere I could not see. The flier looked back at the tree and then at me. Into a swooping dive, it made a beeline for me. I watched mesmerized by this vision of a black flying demon, seemingly intent on taking me somewhere I definitely did want to go.
I decided to take my chances with batman inside. I stepped back into my home, and made to close the door..
“Richard”, came the whisper again.
I turned back into the living room as a whoosh of air blew my front door out of my hands crashing it into the wall. In a panic, I closed it again, but not before this horridly skeletal creature with transparent black wings took a swipe at my face, screaming and hissing like a crazed pissed off cat at me. I ducked, spun and closed the door, with my back against it. The creature banged at the door. I pressed my legs against the floor and my back against the door, hoping it was enough. I could hear it fly away. My breath was coming fast. I realized I had zero options. Outside, inside, it was suicide. I could fight one; I couldn’t fight a goddamned army.
I looked back into my house. It was so god awful dark. I could hear the creature breathing when my own breath quieted. I was preparing to bolt up the stairs by the front door. Clearly, I had lost my nerve and was ready to run to save my own life, if only for a few more precious minutes.
“Richard, come, sit”.
I thought, ‘Sure, no problem, let me have a seat right next to your dog-eating ass’. I put my hand on the railing, looking up into the blackness of the upstairs hallway.
“Richard, you are already dead. How can I kill what is already with me”?
That gave me pause. I turned to look at the direction of the voice, which was gravelly, low, and compelling.
It sounded like he was sitting on my couch, having a beer, getting ready to watch the Super Bowl.
“What do you mean, I’m already dead”? It was a bad situation to begin with, worse yet was talking to someone, apparently a violent someone, in the dark, them telling you that you are dead.
“Come now, you are a smart man. Need I explain what dead means, hmmmm”?
“I know what dead means, asshole, what do you mean by I’m already dead”?
“Asshole, hmmmm, interesting choice of epithet. Can you do better”?
”Sure, ass-munch, what did you have in mind”?
“Ah, good one. So entertaining, your use of words”.
“Well, I’m so glad you find me amusing. Listen, it’s dark in here. Can that be fixed”?
“Absolutely, my dear boy”.
The lights came on. Actually, it was more like a hundred candles came on. They were all over my house, on the fireplace mantle, on the walls in sconces, tables, cabinets, everywhere. It would have been a nice effect; except for everything I’ve witnessed or heard in the last few minutes.
He was an innocent looking old man, hand leaning upon a staff or a cane, seated on my couch as I had thought. He was looking at me with the gentle eyes of an old priest, his chin resting on his hands. His eyes didn’t blink. I realized he looked like someone I knew. Grandpa. He looked like my friggin’ grandfather, except for the eyes were like those of a cat.
“Why do you look like my grandfather”?
“It is better for you. I hope to put you at ease, while I explain”.
“Explain? Explain what? Why you killed my dog. You’re going to explain why the outside of my house looks like a scene from a Michelangelo nightmare. My dog. Why did you have to kill, Wolfy”?
“Wolfy is fine”.
“The yelp and the dripping”?
“The yelp was Wolfy’s, the dripping was me. The change can be a little messy”.
“Where is he and what change”?
“When I must alter appearance, there is always residue. You will know of these things soon enough. Come, sit. We have much to discuss. Do not worry about your dog”.
In a weird way, this was kind of cool, actually. I mean my dream. It was so vivid. I can’t remember ever having a dream of such clarity.
“You are not dreaming, silly man. Now come sit. I’d love to say time is of the essence, but, sadly, it isn’t. We can do this forever, but I’d prefer to get on with the task at hand if you don’t mind”.
“There is no task at hand. What the hell is going on? I was watching TV. Okay, it was bad TV, but it’s not my fault. There was nothing on. A man doesn’t go to hell because of TV, right? Anyway, when the heck did I die? I don’t remember anything unusual, that is until you decided to make a happy meal out of Wolfy”.
“Do you always speak this much”?
“Hey, this is my house, at least the inside is mine. I’ll do what I like”.
“Fine, Richard. You do what you like. I will sit awhile and smoke. I know you don’t mind. Why not find your dog and put your mind at ease”.
Grandpa lit a smoke and leaned back into the couch. I kept half an eye on him as I made my way back into the kitchen. Sure enough, Wolfy was hanging out in the dinette, licking at a pile of sticky bloody gook that was on the floor. I imagined that this was what Gramps was talking about, residue from the change.
“Wolfy, come ‘ere boy. Come on, that’s a good boy. Whistle, whistle, come on boy, Goddammit, Wolfy, get your ass over here now”. I don’t know about you, but I hate it when animals, or for that matter, children pretend that you do not exist. He kept licking away casually laying down and moving on to his crotch area, oblivious to the fact that I was going to kick his ass outside to deal with one of the chomp-you-in-half-with-my-big-nasty-teeth women that were swimming around in my front yard. I turned away from him, with a dismissive wave of my hand, aware that only seconds before I had believed my baby dog to be dead. Let him lick his balls ‘til he dropped.
Thinking about what was in my front yard, I couldn’t imagine what was in my backyard. I was glad the lights outside didn’t work. I went back into my living room. Grandpa was chilling out, cigarette smoke hanging out with him. He was making it dance with his hand. He would swirl it around and it would follow his motions. I stopped about seven paces away and stared at him.
“How’s Wolfy? To your satisfaction? I love what dogs can do to themselves. I have heard it said that if men could do that to themselves, they would never go out. Once, someone asked me for that ability. I thought, heck, let’s see what would happen. I gave it to him. Don’t you know, he ended up biting it off and bleeding to death. Some kind of weird epileptic seizure. Could you imagine? That’s how his family found him. Naked, bloody, dick-less, well kind of, after all, it was in his mouth”.
“Who are you and why is this happening”? I was back to my cool self and it was time for answers. It was clear that I was dealing with something that was more powerful than I was. He could relieve me of my life at any time. He exercised complete control over me. And I didn’t like it. I’d rather be dead than have someone with their thumb on me.
“Ah, Richard, that is why I am here. For those exact reasons. No one shall frighten you, not even me. Impressive. You have always impressed us”.
“Mind reading is not something I care for, especially when it’s mine that’s being read. State your business or get on with the business of killing me”.
“I reiterate, son, you are already dead. Besides, I have no intention of hurting you or holding you down. In fact, I am prepared to give you free rein, with quite a bit of power. Cigarette?”
I was dying for one, you’ll excuse the expression. I took one from the table and lit it.
I asked again. “Who are you”?
“I am who you think I am”.
“Yeah right. And I’m freaking Santy Claus. What kind of crap is this? Okay, if this is a dream I want it ended now. If it’s not, I’m not interested in whatever you want. If you are who I think, I’m definitely not interested. I’d rather collect unemployment”.
“Have you no fear within you, Richard. Are you even stronger than we imagined. Or are you simply stupid. I will snuff what remains of your existence with the wave of a hand or the breath of my soul. Tread carefully, son. I have come to you with open arms and am offering you a place within my legion. A high place. You are an old soul. One deserving of rank within the confines of your final home. Do not discard so lightly that which takes millennia to achieve”.
“What”? I could only look at him with exasperation.
“You know you are an old soul. You have realized this over the years you have been alive. Your knowledge of previous lives, intimacy with past history, history you yourself have contributed to, shaped. You have always suspected something about yourself, mentioning the odd sensations you’ve experienced only to your closest friend.
You have been able to sense it in others. The ability to identify a new soul, how you tended to stay away from those that were nubile, associating with older ones. You and these others are of interest to me. You more than others, though. You are quite old, Richard. Now it is time, with this last passing, that you have come into your own”.
I have to tell you, now, that it was odd to be hearing these kinds of words from someone who looked like my grandfather. The truth of some of his words were evident to me, at least the part about old souls and who I associated with, but to hear it from a being, one whom I suspected was the ultimate evil or one of his own, gave me reason to pause. Let’s say I was dead and I have had my last hurrah on planet Earth, the way I knew it. Why would I be speaking to Satan or whoever from the land down under? I thought to myself, ‘I’ve always lived a good life, not a saint, but heck, I never needed the tenets of the law or of God to dictate my behavior’. I’d always felt that, eventually, any kind of law dictating human behavior would eventually become obsolete. Maybe not today, or even tomorrow, but, certainly the evolution of the human spirit was moving that way. So why isn’t God or one his boys talking to me? What the hell did I do that was so awful? Christ, it must have been pretty bad for me to be talking to one of these guys, if in fact this was really happening’.
“Oh, come now, Richard. You know deep down, this is happening. And yes, you did something really bad. A bad boy is what you are”, he chuckled. “God would have nothing to do with you as result. But, again, way down deep, you’ve always known this. Alas, there is always a good side to every sad story. Do not despair the lack of your God’s love. You have mine. Eternally. My undying respect, and I mean undying”. He chuckled. He was obviously funny, if only to himself.
“When”, was the only word I could manage.
“Oh, my, let’s see. It was a long time ago. My best guess is that it was around 70 years ago. But enough of that. It is of no consequence anymore and certainly your knowledge of why will not help alleviate the weight of your soul. Your time for penance is past. You have been judged and your place is known. I can only make it easier for you. You will never know the presence of God, you will never be blessed with his touch, or graced by his vision. These are things I know very well. Worse for me than you. I have known his grace and was discarded. Apparently, free thinking is not a redeeming quality in the land of the Lord. However, we make the best of that which is offered us. I get the basement, he gets the attic. Honestly, though, the attic can be scarier than the basement, don’t you think.
“It depends on the house, I suppose”, I couldn’t imagine what the point of all of this rhetoric was.
“Yes, a salient point, Richard. My, you are good at this. Well, let’s move on to your responsibilities”.
“No. I have no intention of serving you. I might not know what I have done, but I know that I am not a bad man or a bad soul for that matter. So, if I cannot be in the presence of God, with no hope of salvation, then please, leave me be. Or better yet, expunge my soul or throw me to the happy ladies outside or whatever eternal punishment I deserve. But I will not serve you. In other words, go back to your own hell, and leave me to mine”.
Grandpa stared at me. Without moving his cat eyes, he put his cigarette out. I took a drag of my own, thinking very good thoughts about myself. I also gave a lot of thought to the fact that I was going outside very soon.
“I offer you a place by my side. I offer you an extension of your existence. I offer you power to wield. I offer you a home. Again, do not discard so lightly that which you deserve and which others would give their soul to own. Their mother’s soul”.
He was simply factual. He evidenced no anger towards me. The deal was on the table. Take it or leave it. Simple choice, right? Right.
“Go to hell, Grandpa”. I closed my eyes, holding my breath, waiting for the full brunt of his wrath.
“Well done, Richard”.
I opened my eyes. My father, who had died five years earlier, was petting Wolfy. The sun was shining brightly through my living room windows.
“Dad”?
“Hello, son. It’s good to see you in person”. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Hi Pop, I missed you, man”.
“I’ve missed you too, Richard”.
“What happened to Grandpa”? Suddenly, I suspected a ruse of some sort. The initial shock of not being anally skewered by the hugely inverted thorny cock of the devil and seeing my father hanging out with Wolfy was past.
“Grandpa was never here, Richard”.
“How do I know that Pop. How in the hell do I know any of this is real, man”?
“I’m your Dad and I wouldn’t lie to you. This was a test, son. You passed. The bad news is you’re dead. The good news is you made it past the final temptation. Welcome, son”.
A test. A goddamned test. Christ, it wasn’t even a good one.
“Dad, honestly, how would anyone agree to anything of the sort”?
My father stared gently at me before he answered. “None of us thought you would fail. At the same time, you’d be surprised how high the fail ratio can be. The majority of those under final judgment believe their fate to be sealed and make the best of what is offered them. Not all are offered the same as you. Most less, very few more. You are an old soul, this much was true. However, you were right to doubt the veracity of the demon”.
“What? You mean to tell me that was the real deal in my living room”?
“Absolutely. You were in a middle ground, in fact you still are. It is a place of peace amongst the two worlds. One where we can administer final judgment before moving a soul on to its final place. One where we can reside temporarily without fear of attack from the other side”.
“A safe house”.
“Exactly”, my father said, as Wolfy slobbered on his pants.
I thought about things for a second. “Dad, how did I die”?
“Mmmmm, I knew that was coming”. He looked away from me and stared at Wolfy.
“Dad”?
He looked at me resignedly. “You’re going to find out anyway. It might as well come from me”, his eyes became cold as grey steel as he continued, “You were murdered, son. Murdered by a thieving little bastard. He shot you in the back of the head while you were watching TV. The sonuvabitch left you there on the floor bleeding to death when he decided it was also necessary to shoot your dog”.
I had no recollection of it at all. All I remember was seeing the lights blink once or twice, a popping sound, and then complete darkness. I looked at my father expectantly.
“It’s okay, son. No sense fretting what is done. It may not be the way you would have liked to go, but your time is done. There are other things for you to concern yourself with now. Come, let’s go. We have so much to discuss. Fortunately, time doesn’t mean too much around here so we can take our time with it all”. He was laughing. I had another comedian on my hands. He grabbed my hand.
“Where are we going, Pop”?
“We’re going home. We’re going home”.
I called after Wolfy. He was excited as if we were going for a car ride. My other hand was a slobbered mess by the time we made the front door. “Wolfy, easy boy, easy, calm down, Christ, Wolfy, what in the hell do I have to do. Down, down boy”.
My dad put a hand on my shoulder. “You know, you might want to curb the language thing”.
He put a hand on Wolfy’s head and the dog calmed down immediately.
“Neat trick, Pop. Listen, what’s going to happen with the guy that shot me”?
My father started to laugh.
“Dad, what’s so funny”?
“You remember that stuff that Wolfy was licking at”?
“You mean besides his balls”?
“Umhmmmm”. My father was doing his best from cracking up while he opened the door.
It came to me slowly, “Oh. Oh, ah-oooh, that had to hurt”. I had to cringe from the image that leapt into my head as we walked the path that led from the house to the woods off to the left.
My father couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was laughing pretty hard when he finally managed to say, “I’ve tried time and again to tell everyone that the Devil ain’t so bad. Proof positive wouldn’t you say. I love a good piece of justice”.
He put his hand around my shoulder as he guided me through the woods to our new home.
I thought to myself, “So do I”.
***
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