Emily From Connecticut

I was sitting in the dark when she came to see me. The tv was on with no particular program playing . . . just fuzz and static. For the last 5 months I've had nightmares about the abduction of a young girl named Emily. Her body lay motionless in her bed while her mom feeds and baths her. Her chest rises and falls while her eyes swam beneath the lids. Once her mother lifted her eyelids only to see her blackened eyes They glistened and revealed the reflection of the horrified parent. The body cannot be removed from the house. Daniel, her father, tried to do so one day. Pictures and other fixtures fell from the wall; water ran upside down and drenched the ceiling; bulbs exploded; doors locked. She told me that she sneaks out when HE isn't looking and that I am the only one who can free her. I asked he who He was, but she told me not to talk so loud. Saying his name wakes him. She wants me to come to Connecticut. She's crying, and her tears are real.

Emily (Part 2 - "Threatened")

Her tears fall into my outstretched hand like an answered prayer. There’s a sparkle, and the flame’s reflection from the fireplace floats atop the puddle in my palm. I stare at it as if awaiting an answer or an epiphany to present itself to guide me to a decision. I know who HE is. Such evil is hard to wash away. Demons still reside somewhere in my heart. Assistance to her could reveal my flawed past. There is a chance that death will come to anyone who defies this monster. Will God have mercy on my soul, or will it be caught in an inevitable downward spiral? Selfish, I know, but my life is an attempt at salvation.

Something breaks my concentration. She wipes her eyes and runs away, disappearing into my bookshelf. I try to call out to her, but my voice is absent. I can barely breathe. Who is behind me?

Emily (Part 3 - "What's Worse")

It was as if a bully punched me between the eyes causing them to fill with tears instantly. The room was spinning. I could feel my eyeballs bulging. Which gasp would be my last? Suddenly, it stopped. The floor was warm from the heat of the fireplace. It would take some time for my focus to correct itself as my concentration became fixed on the flame. Was this a warning? 40 souls . . . I helped collect in exchange for my own life back. My broken body lay in the hospital supported by a machine. They did not expect me to live much longer. Voices rang out. Visitors came and went. Some were crying and expressing their best wishes while others spoke of my troubled past and how this was God's way of punishing me. After breaking the ice, collecting souls was like taking a breath. Upon waking I discovered that I had no wife or child. Someone had taken my place, and my landlord evicted me while I was incapacitated.

My every attempt to get closer to God has been thwarted. Huge churches appeared to be fill with only a few cars in the lot. There is always a wardrobe malfunctions or car problem. The priests looked at me in disgust as if they know of my deeds. Holy water burned, and my thirst could never be quenched. Newborns cried in my presence, and sidewalks cleared during my evening strolls. It was not worth this. To go against He who gave me a second chance is truly the goal of a madman; however, I am a sad man with no way or reason. How much worse can it get?

Emily (Part 4 - "Forgiving")

I'm on my knees, and for what? No line in the Bible could comfort me. So many demons with names that are unimportant reside in my heart, and still I pack my bags. The thing to do is the thing to do. Who can say whether it's right or wrong? My death will result in a downward decent; I might as well attempt to do God's will. There is no motive, only an insane impulse for adventure. That is what I tell myself. My reflection is that of a man with a fate worse than death--a winter that never makes room for spring or fall. Accepting that gives me strength. Nothing I do will change what is to be. My life is boring.

Rising from the floor, something dangled in my hand--a rope. I was choking myself. When will you make it end? The games are so predictable. He is not as cunning as he once was. Mine eyes have seen the worst. There can be no surprises, for whatever happens is expected, counted upon, and foreseen. My bag is ready. The time grows near.

Emily (Part 5 - "Journey")

It was unavoidable, Emily's visit to me in the middle of the night. Often the air would grow frigid as pictures swayed on the wall. The television would be full of life but with no sound, and time itself would slow to a crawl. My shield was liquor; twas was the best I could do to convince myself that this was all a bad dream, but we know better--she and I. This hands could not kill her like all the rest because she reminded me so much of Patty, a soul God overlooked or couldn't reach in time. So he hangs her on a string like a puppet in front of me awaiting my return and the finishing of the job. She was number 40 until the spell wore off. He knows what we did and that she is the gateway to his demise. A promise is a promise, and I am coming to hold up my end of the bargain--a soul for a soul . . . a wolf for a lamb. That doesn't seem all that enticing but ironic and poetic and the same time. Did I just grin, and how long has it been since I cracked a joke about myself? Something is different about the sunset.

Emily (Part 6 - "Father, Son, Holy Spirit We Shake Souls")

There's something strange about black that is convenient and horrifying. Once I had made the decision to come to Emily's aid, the 20 step portal revealed itself. It is unseen by other mortals, and the fact that it is present has a deep meaning. Dying is no longer a fear or burden. My heart's desire rests in saving this young soul at all costs, and that feeling cannot be shaken. Tis like suit of glue that can never be removed. The trip is brief and nearly unnoticeable. The only sound heard is the wind made up of whispers of the dead. Many of them are well versed about my deed and remind me of the punishment they intend to inflict upon my arrival, but I have other places to go. There is no time to stop and defend my immoral decision. The Reaper continues to move my name farther down the list as if to keep open a window of opportunity. That in itself is ironic because the reason is muddy.

Her body lies upon the twin bed. Her bare arms lie overlap a homemade blanket my grandmother could have made with her head resting on a wheat pillow. Two lamps burn as nature's light shines through the open curtains as if to keep the darkness away as the dream catcher hangs directly over her in a room that is tidy and not cluttered. I am standing in the doorway, readying myself for for the final 7 steps. I must utter, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit, We Shake Souls." Those are the words of the remaining seven steps that will open the portal and allow us to trade places. Emily can live her life as it was written. Father . . . . Son . . . . Holy Spirit . . . . We Shake . . . . I reach for her hand. It's warm. The final step has been taken.

Her restless blue eyes open, and the feeling of falling into them is comforting. Wiping the sleep from them she rises as if she has merely taken a short nap. Her memories are no longer tainted with the horrors of hell's society. The dream catcher has them, and now I do. I now know the major players and am ready to retrieve the Trumpet of Revelation. Yes, a set of innocent eyes and ears were necessary. A card shark tends to reveal his ace to those who pretend to admire. Much time was needed to arrive at this point. The heart know when a man is ready. The true journey has now begun.