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~I know, I'm finding it hard to breath. And I've been drowning in my own sleep. I feel a hate crashing over me. So rescue me.
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Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
-T.S Eliot's "The Hallow Men"
I was alone in a dimmed church seated in a praying position, situated at the thirtieth pew of the center group of seats, directly below the balcony. My eyes were gently closed, my head was bowed, and my knees were cradled with the thin stretch of pillow that had been pulled down from the back of the pew in front of me.
When I lifted my head from my position it was as if the lights had become brighter, illuminating the rainbow of stain glass along the walls of the building and the rich, polished mahogany of the old church seats. My eyes danced over the alter dozens of feet away, which had a theme of gold and was wrapped around with vines and flowers. I imagined the church filled with assortments of people, all situated with their hands in their laps, sun hats over their head, and an ecstatic chorus of small children getting ready for the opening hymn. The elderly Priest would slowly walk down the aisle, giving me a small wave and shaking hands with my Father, as well as other adults as he went by.
Suddenly it was all happening. I was nine years old, sitting between my Mother and Father, my hands in both of their laps. My Mother was wearing her favorite white sun dress with her short black hair curled. My father wore his favorite khakis, matched with a light green button-down.
I was wearing a bright pink dress, my long black hair pulled back from my face in a French braid. My toes had barely reached the ground and my back was straight and proper. I was the perfect image of a church daughter, however my ocean eyes were jerking between people, fascinated with my surroundings. The chorus was warming up. But the pews were practically empty.
My Mother kissed my cheek and said she had to go talk to a friend, Betty, our close neighbor and mother to Thomas Gregory, the boy that would grow up to be a nasty, rude young man. Thomas was standing next to his Mother, his hands in his pockets and his head down in a shy manner as he followed with bright eyes the approaching figures through the church's entrance.
Suddenly we locked eyes, and Thomas' blonde hair fell in into his face as he stared me down with narrowed eyes. Little did I know that look meant he didn't like me too much. I just wanted to go on the playground with somebody. I looked up at my Father's young thirty-year-old face and smiled so huge my cheeks were straining to keep the position.
He nodded and leaned down towards me, a smile edging his lips. "You can go play. Just hurry before your Mother get's back."
In one fluid motion I kissed my Father's cheek and leaped from the pew, running towards Thomas, who was still standing in the same spot he was in moments before, although his Mother had moved a few feet back in deep conversation with my own Mother.
Thomas was a little taller than my height, even though girls were suppose to be the ones that developed first. His hair was bone straight, reaching a little below his ears because he hated to cut his hair, even in High school. I waved up at him. "Hi, Tommy. Do you want to go on the swings with me?"
Tommy stared me down before looking away and blushing a little. "I guess so," he replied, as if playing with me was the last thing he wanted to do and began to walk out of the church.
I followed close on his heels until we were outside, becoming instantly bathed with the bright sunny day. I tapped on Tommy's shoulder. He turned around with a smile, having a slight idea of what I was about to say.
"Race you!"
Tommy and I began to run towards the playground at a jog, then run, then a wobbly sprint. His legs might have been longer than mine, but I was more determined, more excited to win. I was ahead by a few feet when I leaped onto the swing as if we were airplane soaring through the sky.
Tommy landed on the one next to me shortly after with a grunt. "No fair!" He exclaimed stubbornly, throwing a wood chip at me.
I turned over on the swing and sat up, pushing from the ground to get momentum. "Yes fair! I won fair and square!" I threw a wood chip back, hitting him on the nose.
He sat up on his own swing, surprisingly beginning to laugh. "No--"
"Hey, Tom! What's up, Buddy?"
The voice of Steve Gregory, Thomas' older brother interrupted our woodchip-war. Steve was six years older than Tom, and six times bigger than him. Even though I was young, I knew he was handsome--with Tommy's matching light blonde hair, yet more masculine jaw structure, and brighter blue eyes. He had his hands in his pockets and smirked down at Tommy. Next to him stood another handsome boy, his best friend, Josh, with shaggy brown hair and dark brown eyes.
Tommy shyly waved up at his brother, who reached down and ruffled up his hair. "What's up, my little man?" He looked at me for a few seconds before looking back at Tommy and teasing into his ear, "Is this your...girlfriend?"
Tommy's face went the brightest red I had ever seen. "No!"
Steve looked over at me and stared me down. My back straightened immediately when those gorgeous eyes were on me. "You're Faith, right? From the Easter party? Ah--yes, I remember you. You're the one who found the bag of chocolate eggs in the pantry and threw up on the carpet because you ate too many of them."
I had only met Steve a few times in my life. Once at an Easter party, once that day, and then the day of Thomas' funeral that would arrive six years later, when he overdosed on drugs at a pool party
"Sorry," I replied politely.
"She's so adorable," I heard Steve's friend Josh said dryly. I looked up to see Josh staring intently at me, his lips in a flat line and his eyes seeming to grow a shade darker. His gaze became one that resembled hunger then a casual glance. It strangely sent my mind at full alert, as if I knew he was dangerous.
I tore my eyes away, becoming nervous, and looked to Steve and then Tom. "When does church start?"
Steve looked to Tom, who shrugged. Steve laughed. "I forgot." He pulled up his sleeve to check his watch when Josh suddenly reached out and pinched the side of Steve's neck at a pressure point, making him drop straight onto the mulch with a loud thump.
Tom screamed at his brothers fall and jumped up from the swing. Before he could run away, Josh smacked him hard across the face with a loud crack. He fell to the ground next to Steve, unconscious.
My mouth gaped. I was still sitting on the swing, utterly frozen in terror. I slowly looked up at Josh, who had began to walk closer to me. My breath got caught in my throat. His dark brown eyes had become entirely black.
"I apologize, I usually stay away from the younger brand of humans, especially near a church. However, you're blood smelled so delicious from afar that I just had to... drop by."
"W-who are you?" I stuttered out, my eyes beginning to tear.
"Let's stick with Josh, darling." Josh smiled, revealing sharp, blackened fangs. "As for what I am, I suppose your extremely dense-minded generation would label me a sparkly Vampire... I however prefer a Demonic force who enjoys feasting on children's hearts and leaving their frail bodies at their parents doorstep."
My body began to shake in fear. I touched the left side of my chest. "Hearts?"
"Let's pretend I didn't say anything, darling," his voice soothed in a terrifyingly trusting voice. My face paled as his hand reached down and picked a strand of my black hair. Josh plucked a strand of my hair painfully from my head and fiddled with it between his fingers, dark eyes on me. He then squatted down to my level, his skin carefully becoming a shade of decayed grey in the suns ray. "Your scent is very unusual, little Faith, as is the potency of your young soul. Why is that?"
I gripped the chains of the swings with sweaty hands. My eyes darted to Steve and Tommy laying on the ground. "Please... don't hurt me." My voice was soft, gentle, even though I was ridiculously suffocated with fear.
He ignored me completely. "I like your dress," Josh began with a small, cynical smile. "Unfortunately, I like the rapidly beating heart underneath it much, much, more." And just like claws, his fingers began to approach the center of my chest, his eyes growing darker and darker.
I couldn't move, speak, or hit the Demon. I felt as if my small body was arching towards him. I whimpered and cried out silently, tears streaming from my eyes. I was a brain-dead nine year old.
"I suggest finding another meal," a family deep voice boomed from no particular direction.
The Demon's hands froze at the voice. It was then a mist of ink appeared from behind him, spinning and twirling until it carefully formed the silhouette of a tall, lean man, dressed in a draped hooded cloak. There was no scythe in his hand, as usual, but I knew by that age he could will the weapon into his hands whenever he wished.
"Death," I whispered to the familiar man, my heart racing more than when the Demon had been about to kill me.
By the angle of his hood he didn't acknowledge me. "You can leave now and no blood will be shed," Death stated in a low tone.
The Demon stood, his hand on my arm and yanked me up from the swing and to his side with a hiss. "I saw her first. She is mine."
Death took a step forward. "Very well then."
Josh kept his hand around me and backed up. "I wonder...what is she to you?" He asked carefully, his head titled to the side. Suddenly his hand lowered to my wrist. His thump pressed against the inside, making the surrounding skin feel like it was on fire. "Well, look at this. The big bad Death has bonded once again," the Demon announced, securing me once again to his side. "What a pity. You'll have to find another nine year old to molest-- or whatever the hell your deranged self planned on doing; because this one is going to be my dinner."
A short, sarcastic laugh escaped from underneath the cloak. "You have twenty seconds to get out of my damn sight and leave the girl before I rip your throat out and hand feed it to you with a switch blade. I won't say it again."
The Demon secured me against him with a hand around my throat. "She'll be heartless before you count to ten."
A crackle of bright white light suddenly lit the sky. I looked up to see the sky had dimmed to a dark grey, streaking with crooked blades of lightening, then pounding, like cymbals, with thunder. When I looked back at death with my clouded mind he was holding a scythe in his right hand, it's massive, heavy blade seeming to be larger than my body.
"Let's get one thing clear. The moment you touch anything resembling her heart is the moment the sky falls to the ground. If you kill her I will hunt you down and torture you until you beg for your life."
The Demon twitched from behind me. "I wouldn't threaten me. I apparently, by that look on your face, have my own leverage right in front of me." He patted my head and added, "Here's the deal. I'll let her go...if..." His eyes landed on Thomas on the ground. "If I get the boy."
A pause. "Nine years from now," Death bargained with professional quality.
Josh's hand released my hair. "Kill him first."
"So you can add another member to your annoying clan? I don't think so."
"Let me rephrase that," Josh said, and like a blade, his fingernails began to grow into sharp talons. He put one at my throat and dug it into the skin. I stared at the beginning of his nail, unable to process what he was about to do because I was so harebrained. "I want you to kill the boy at eighteen and keep his soul intact so that I can turn him into one of my own. If you refuse, I'll slit your little puppies throat and hang her from a tree like a readied cow."
Death tilted his head down to me, his leather covered hand clenching his scythe. "I acknowledge your unnecessary haggle. If I agree to this, you will be forever silent about anything you read through her blood. And you will keep your minority hell hounds out of my sight."
"Of course," the Demon replied. "I'll also save you the time and wipe her memory of me."
"No," Death growled. "You will release her from your hold immediately. I'll do it."
The Demon nudged me forward then grabbed me at a sudden thought. "Whoa, whoa, what do you think of me, Death? We have not shook on it." he noted. "Call me paranoid, but I believe you're waiting for your little puppy to come to your side, so you can cut my head clean off."
Death let out a noise that resembled a monstrous howl. "Damnit." They shook hands. The Demon's face broke it's emotionless expression somewhere between the squeeze, as if Death had made a point of breaking a few bones. "I hate Demons. Especially your ugly face," Death hissed out in a harsh tone.
"And to think I counted you in my blessings last night," the Demon spat sarcastically, eying the church building to the right of him. "At least I got another hell-hound. Thomas the hell-hound. It sounds pretty fruity, actually. Like a children's book."
The Demon vanished at that, throwing me in the process towards Death. I stumbled in my sandals, stopping right before I slammed into Death's stomach. All at once I was panicking, anxious, nauseas, angry, and terrified. I looked behind me to see Tommy and Steve on the floor, eyes wide.
I pointed. "Are they sleeping? That man h-h-hit them."
I felt a brush of fabric at my front. I turned to see that Death had squatted to my level. "They're sleeping. They'll be up on their feet in moments. I promise."
On cue, Tommy sat up and rubbed his eyes, followed by Steve. They both stood up without glancing at me and walked into the church, my young eyes following them with interest.
"What's wrong with them? Why didn't they look at me?"
" Everything is going to be ok," he consoled, lightly stroking my arms with his warm leather gloves. The memory of the Demon slowly drifted out of my mind. I was only left with the strong, shock-driven emotions from the scenario.
My large blue eyes filled with tears. "I want my Mommy," I admitted quietly.
"I need to talk to you first. Then you can see your Mom." The softness of his voice had my head turning towards his shadowed face. "I told you not to go anywhere without your Mom and Dad, didn't I?"
I nodded like a bobble head.
"Where's your rock with the pretty designs?"
I shrugged. "At home."
"What about Mr. Wiggles? Where's he?"
"Um, he was tired. He has the rock."
"No, you forgot them." Death gripped my tiny hands between his. "You could have been hurt. Had I not been close, you could have been dead. I told you to stay with your Mom and Dad, Faith, and you played on the swings. You disobeyed me. I'm very unhappy." His warm breath blew out into my face. "But that's not the main reason I wanted to talk to you, Faith. I can't play with you anymore," Death blurted out.
I frowned. "No more tea parties?"
He shook his head. "No more tea parties."
"Why?"
Death cleared his throat, growing uncomfortable that I was becoming emotional. "This is the second time something like this has happened. The first time you didn't know it. A...De--monster tried to attack you." He shifted his feet. "Remember when I told you about how special you are?"
"Yes." I patted my stomach as Death did when he was explaining it. "You gave me part of your sun and I smell good. So now monsters want to eat me and make me scary."
He shook his hooded head. "No. Not sun. Soul. I gave you part of my soul. And the monsters can smell the power of it--"
"But they don't know you're my friend unless they touch me," I interrupted, eyes bright with an explanation. "And you don't want them to know about me, so you stay with me. If you aren't with me you find the monster and eat them because they taste good, or tell them to shut their fudging pie-hole. If they talk about my sun to other monsters you like to cut them all with Scytherella and then send them to Hell-o and say Good-bye. Just like the monster under my bed that stole my slipper."
Death scratched his head and made a noise in his throat to try and restrain a laugh. "Exactly. That's exactly how it works...You haven't been telling anyone about me, have you?"
"Just Mr. Wiggles."
He surprisingly didn't laugh. "You can't tell anyone about me. Ever, even if you miss me."
I frowned at his dark face. "Are you leaving me? I thought you were my friend?"
Death let out a deep sigh. "Oh God. Please...don't--"
"Are we--"
"--do this--"
"--friends?"
"No."
"But we--"
"No--"
"--play--"
"--we were friends, Faith. We can't anymore. The monsters will get you."
"We had tea parties. I made you pictures. You draw cars really good. You're my friend," I argued, eyebrows knit together. "The monsters won't care."
Death leaned his head forward and scrubbed his shadowed face. "You're making this difficult. I can't keep visiting you. It's not safe."
"I'm safe. I have Mr. Wiggles. You can't leave me Death, you're my hero," My voice was barely audible. "I'll miss you." I blinked a few times, my lip wiggling. Before I knew it, the wave of emotions I had received from before over flowered. I started to cry.
"Don't cry, Cupcake. Come on, you're brave. You're a big girl." I felt his hand try and grab my arm. I pulled away and covered my face, embarrassed.
"You... don't love... me...anymore," I crackled out breathily between huge tears.
"That's not true. Come here," he sighed out, putting his hands on my sides and bringing my small frame closer. Death pulled me into a hug. The moment my cheek hit the soft fabric of his cloak I felt safe and warm--as if nothing could harm me. My tears had practically ended within seconds.
I wrapped my small arms around his neck and squeezed him against me as if he would vanish into thin air. "Don't leave me," I whispered, breaking the silence.
"I'm not leaving you anytime soon." I was picked up and placed onto his knee as he stayed in a squatting position."But you're too young for me to be around you all the time."
The bells of the church began to ring, signaling mass was about to begin.
I leaned my head against Death's shoulder. "I don't want to go to church."
"I'll walk you in. I'll sit next to you."
"You're lying. You're going to leave me. You can't go in a church because you said it hurts." I gripped his hood. "Please, please, please, play with me."
Death threw his head back and let out a groan before playing with my braid. "Jesus, you're so damn smart. It's impossible to trick you."
I frowned as he wiped away another one of my tears. "Don't say that, Death. Jesus is our savior."
He mumbled something bitterly under his breath before saying, "You're right. And I have to go. I have a job to do," he said with strain in his voice.
"Will you watch me?"
"I'll always be watching over you."
"Are you going to protect me?"
"Of course."
"Do you love me?"
"You're very important to me," was all he said.
"Will I see you again?"
Death was silent for the longest moment before he gently pushed me off of his lap, and stood up. He gave my nose a poke. "Only if you look hard enough, Cupcake."
****
I felt as if I was in a cocoon, wrapped tightly in a balance between comfort, security, and warmth. I knew I had been pulled into some for of dreamless sleep, yet my eyes were still shut tight as if I was on a strong anesthetic.
Wake up.
I couldn't. My forehead was suddenly sweating. I thrashed my head to the side and felt a soft pillow, smelled the flowery scent of my comforter. I could suddenly hear the thrashing wind from outside the apartment. My apartment.
My eyes jerked open. I was facing the end table next to my bed. The lamp that sat on top of it was strangely lit, yet I hadn't remembered turning it on. I frowned for a few moments at a shadowed thought, which seemed to vanish before I could reach it.
My eyes darted to the alarm clock in front of the lamp which read in bright blue digital letters:
Wednesday, October 27, 11:00 PM
Wednesday?
I had practically slept the entire day. I rolled over onto my back and frowned up at the ceiling. The vividness of the dream was exactly like the one I had of Death in skull makeup at a carnival, and the one with Leo being Death. The dream I had played out before me all over again except this time, I was really trying to evaluate the scenes. For some reason I couldn't piece anything together, except for the fact that Death had given me part of his soul. The more I thought about it, the more I had absolutely no idea how I had gotten into my bed, or what I had done the day before.
Had I gotten drunk? Was I date raped? Did I have a seizure? Was I dead? Had I killed someone in cold blood? Had I gotten drunk, then raped, then had a seizure, die, come back to life, then killed someone in blood?
I began to panic at the irony of some of those thoughts.
I sat up abruptly on my bed. At first I honestly thought I was in a cocoon because the comforter and blankets around me were so tightly wrapped around my body. I wheezed out a "Ugh!" to get out of it.
I looked across the room. To my relief, my reflection from my vanity seemed pretty normal. My skin was slightly flushed from sleeping, still holding a small fraction of my Summer tan. My eyes looked rested, relaxed. Yes, I looked absolutely normal. You know, besides the whole black-bees nest thing that rested at the top of my head.
My shirt was a typical bland night shirt, one that I would pick out. I pulled the covers down with a frown to see that I was wearing a typical pair of my wacky pajama pants; taco pajamas.
I still couldn't remember putting the clothes on.
"Oh God, oh God, please no." I stood up and walked up the mirror, visualizing someone else undressing me, doing what they wanted, and then leaving me, alone. I sat back down on my bed and looked around the room.
Everything was in its place.
I started to get small clips of the girl in the orange poncho and the black halo I saw around her. I saw Death standing across the way wearing a black leather jacket. He began to turn around, then vanished as a car passed by.
Death.
I clutched the sides of my temple, beginning to get a headache.
I lay back and stared up at the ceiling. With a slow, relaxing breath, I closed my eyes, trying to recall what had happened the day before. At first it was difficult, as if I had to jump a few hurtles to recover the memories but after a while I got one single word across my eyes.
Leo.
I remembered Leo and I sitting at a Mexican Grill. I was laughing, flirting, then sitting on his lap and trying to get a glass of water out of his hands. My tongue was burning, I got up, hurried across the restaurant to a guy named Jose. I remembered hitting a man's plate off his table...
My eyes burst open. The people in the restaurant had become frozen as if a movie was put on pause. A Demon. A Demon had made them all freeze mysteriously in their place.
I sat up.
I had met a real, live, Demon. A Demon had touched me, talked to me. Another mythical creature had become real in my mind, just like an Angel. The events were pouring out before my eyes and I was recalling every detail of the day before. The Demon fighting me, grabbing my wrist, the burn, David saving me...
David.
David hurrying to the bathroom with me and my burning eyes, David fighting with me, David telling me Leo had left, David healing the burn on my wrist...then...nothing.
My head hit the mattress again.
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing, where an important memory should have been stored.
"Nothing," I spoke out loud. "Nothing..."
It was then in the corner of my eye I saw a dark figure walk inhumanly fast past my door. I slowly turned my head to the side.
It was nothing, my mind concluded. Nothing at all.
Wrong. It was the definition of misleading, because a few moments after that thought the power went completely out. And once again, it was me, against unforgiving darkness.
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