Scaring the Addictions Away

Scaring the Addictions Away

“Dammit, Linda! I should be able to smoke in my own house.”

          “It stinks up the place, Bob. You know that. I don’t want it smelling when we entertain guests.”

          “And when was the last time that happened, Linda? Huh?”

          “You’re drunk. Go outside, smoke your cigarette, and hopefully the cold air will sober you up before you come back in our house.”

          “Whatever,” Bob whispered under his breath.

          “What was that?” demanded Linda sternly. With her hands rested on her hips, his wife’s posture told him to keep his mouth shut. 

          “Nothing,” he replied. He watched her leave the kitchen

          Bob grabbed his heavy, winter coat that hung on the rack near the side door of his house. No, it was our house. He slipped the coat on as he slid his feet into the openings of his snow boots. They squeaked against the tile floor as he put them on. A black and grey-stripped beanie was also hanging from the rack, which he grabbed to cover his balding head. He then made sure he had everything he needed for his smoke outing. 

          Pack of Marlboro 27s, check. 

          Lighter, check.

          No wife, double check.

          A blast of frigid air rushed into the house as he opened the door. He quickly stepped outside and shut the door so his wife wouldn’t yell at him from the other room about letting all of the heat out.

          Brr, it’s cold.

          Pulling out the pack of cigarettes, Bob took one out and plopped it between his lips. It was a bit windy, so he had to cup his left hand around the end as he lit it. Sucking in and watching the flickering flame pull in towards the tip, the tobacco caught fire in a bright orange. The smooth smoke seeped through his mouth and into his lungs. He held it there for several seconds, enjoying his addiction, and exhaled it in a satisfying cloud of smoke.

          He first started smoking twenty-five years ago, when he was only fifteen-years old. Hanging out with some older kids behind a gas station after school one day, he had given in to peer pressure to look cool in front of everyone else. After hacking up a lung-and-a-half, he could feel the slight high first time users experience. His head had become lighter, and every step he took felt like walking on clouds. He was immediately hooked. That high would quickly vanish after several sessions of smoking, but he would forever be dependent on the cancer sticks’ enticing pull that would never let him go. He loved to smoke and had no intention of stopping, even with the small health effects that had developed recently in his life.

          Bob inhaled the first cigarette, feeding his addiction. Tossing the butt into his ashtray bucket, he then took out a second cigarette, the one he would smoke slowly to enjoy. Lighting the end, he savored the sweet smoke. Exhaling leisurely, he looked past the cloud of tobacco and into his backyard.

          He froze still as a dark shadow flashed by his shed and Conversion van.

          The only light outside came from the one directly above Bob, where he stood next to the side door of his home. It didn’t offer much, but it was enough to make out most of the backyard. The half-acre of yard that had been cut from the surrounding wooded area contained a storage shed and a maroon GMC Savana full-size van, which all were now covered by several inches of fresh snow that had fallen earlier in the day.

          Bob knew he was still lightly inebriated, but the sudden frightening shadow sobered him up a bit. With the half-smoked cigarette forgotten for the moment, he took two cautious steps towards the vehicle when he stopped dead in his tracks.

          Voices, two of them, came from the silent night. They were muffled, sounding almost like they were coming through static in a broken radio. Bob’s terror was replaced by anger. Trespassers were in his yard. Probably some no-good punk kids looking for a secret place to fuck. The van, which he had never worried about locking while stored in the backyard, was old and had seen its own share of some loving involving he and his wife. But there was no way he was going to let some hooligans dirty up his belongings.

          “Fucking kids!” he yelled towards the vehicle that had been a wedding gift from Linda’s now deceased parents. “Get away from my—“

          A violent shaking from the conversion van cut Bob off from finishing his warning. It rocked back and forth, almost to the point of tipping over onto its side. There was no way two kids getting their jolly’s off could cause that much commotion. There was no way anyone could cause a three-ton object to move that vigorously without mechanical assistance.

          Bob was back to being scared.

          The shaking continued, rattling the snow from the vehicle. The whole thing even seemed to levitate off the ground several inches in the process. Dark shadows and quick, small sparks of light flashed around from the inside.

          The event stopped abruptly, leaving Bob dumbfounded and frightened. He didn’t dare move, even with the wind picking up and blowing the freezing air onto his exposed face.

          He waited a few seconds.

          There was nothing.

          He waited a few more seconds.

          Still, there was nothing.

          There was no sign of the shadow that had flittered through the dark moments before. No more voices in the air. Nothing was moving except for the falling snow. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

          Fuck this.

          Bob slowly backed away until he was up against the door to the house. Never moving his eyes from the van and shed, he stumbled with the doorknob, twisted it nervously, and fell into the house as he pushed the door open. He bolted to his feet and quickly shut and locked the door.

          “Jesus, Bob!” Linda cried from the other side of the house. “What’s all that commotion going on out there?” Her pounding footsteps were heard storming down the hall until the angry woman appeared in the kitchen.

          “Nothing, dear. I was just coming back in from outside.”

          “Is that a cigarette in your hand? I told you, no smoking in the house!”

          “What?” Bob looked down to see that he was still holding the half-smoked cigarette he was too frightened to finish. “Oh. I’m sorry, Linda. I just forgot to throw it in the bucket. Look, it’s out.”

          “Well, get it out of here. I can already smell it stinking up the place.”

          Right.

          “Okay, Linda.” He opened the door to the outside and threw his butt into the bucket with the others that were starting to pile up. He never once looked out into the backyard. Turning to his wife, he said, “You happy?”

          “Don’t give me attitude,” she warned.

          Bob could see she was about to go on a rant when she suddenly stopped. Her face changed from angry to confused.

          “Are you alright? You look like you’d just seen a ghost, and you’re shaking a bit.”

          “I…uh…um,” he stuttered after hearing her mention a ghost. He quickly dismissed the thought of telling the truth, knowing she would never believe him. “I’m tired, cold, and I’m ready for bed. That’s all.”

          She eyed him suspiciously. “Alright. Get yourself cleaned up before getting into bed; I don’t want to sleep next to someone who reeks of smoke.” She left him standing alone in the kitchen.

           Bob couldn’t stop shaking as he made his way to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes, avoided looking at his old, flabby body in the mirror, and stepped into the shower. He used the first blast of cold water to try and sober himself up and wash the fear away, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ghostly event he had witnessed. It wouldn’t leave his mind.

          “Are you sure you’re okay?” Linda asked again as he entered their bedroom wearing only his robe.

          “I think I’m just a little stressed over work,” Bob replied, trying to hide any sign of nervousness as he slipped into his sleeping attire. “You know I’ve been working more than usual lately. I probably just need a good night’s sleep.”

          “Okay,” she yawned. “If you say so. Make sure you shut off the light before getting into bed.” She rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes to sleep.

          Turning off the light, Bob slid under the sheets of his bed, lied down on his side of the bed, and closed his eyes to follow in his wife’s footsteps. It took him twenty-minutes, rather than the normal three to five minutes, to finally fall asleep.

          That night, Bob’s dreams were nothing but nightmares.

#

          Bob delayed having his first cigarette of the day, the one that he would have every morning the minute he woke up. He was still disturbed by the pervious night’s events, and did not want to view his backyard. Although he was badly jonesing for one, he didn’t light his first cigarette until he was in his car and on his way to work. There was no enjoyment inhaling the tobacco.

          Throughout the day, Bob took only half as many smoke breaks as usual. The other electricians noticed and even joked about it, saying he must be coming down with something because he was smoking so little.

          “Guess I’ve just been forgetful today.” He didn’t want them to know the truth, that smoking brought back bad memories.

          Bob was never able to get through one whole cigarette the entire time he was at work.

          When all of the electrical wires were finally laid down in the house he and his fellow coworkers were working on, Bob was able to go home for the day. Though, home was not some place he really wanted to be. He went to his favorite local bar instead. After a few beers, when he was feeling a good buzz coming on, he decided to head home.

          “And where have you been?” Linda was staring angrily at him as he entered the house.

          “Uh, work ran late.”

          “Is that why I can smell booze on your breath? Bob, you knew I was making dinner tonight. Is going to a bar really more important than me? You know what, don’t answer that. I’m going to my reading room.”

          Linda stormed off down the hall and into her reading room, the room she isolated herself in whenever she was feeling fussy. Good riddance. 

          Now alone in the kitchen, Bob could smell the food Linda had cooked. It smelt like roast beef and the leftovers were probably stored in the fridge. He would get into that later, but first he wanted to face his fear.

          During the day, Bob kept telling himself that he was being a little pussy. His eyes were playing tricks on him and what he saw didn’t really happen. There was no way what he saw could have happened. He had been too drunk and too tired last night, so he vowed to smoke outside in the backyard again, no matter what. He wasn’t going to let his stupid imagination scare him out of his own backyard.

          He pulled on his coat, put on his boots, and made sure he was all set to go outside and enjoy a smoke. And this time, he would enjoy it. He paused just as he was about to open the door, with his right hand resting on the handle.

          You can do this, Bobby.

          The frigid air rushed in as he yanked the side door open and walked into the winter outside. Thick clumps of snow were falling from the night sky, blowing around heavily in the strong wind. It was hard to make out anything in the backyard through the dense weather. The van and shed were barely visible from where he stood.

          It took him several tries to light his cigarette; he got it after using his coat as a windbreaker. He inhaled and then watched the smoke quickly swirl away as he exhaled slowly. Closing his eyes, Bob took himself away to a fond memory he always enjoyed reliving.

          Ten years ago, when the last of their two children had left for college, he and his wife had taken a road trip across the United States. It started with dropping Sarah off at the University of California, Berkeley.  The three of them—Ricky couldn’t make it; he was busy living his newly adult life in Seattle—drove straight through from Fargo, Minnesota. The only stops they made were Mount Rushmore and the Grand Canyon, in order to make good time. After tearfully leaving their only daughter behind, Bob and Linda began their trip north. They drove along the entire west coast until they reached Canada. Passing the border into and spending a couple of nights in Vancouver, they then made their way to Banff, where they relaxed for a whole week. Bob never really liked resort towns, but the area was beautiful and he quickly fell in love with the place. Grudgingly leaving Banff, he and his wife drove through Calgary and then down to Montana. The rest of the trip was driven through the States. The entire vacation was Bob’s favorite and brought back great memories.

          Opening his eyes back up and bringing himself back to reality, Bob stared at the vehicle that had made his favorite trip possible. The van stood out in the weather, with the snow clearing a visible area just for him.

          With his cigarette now out, he threw it in the bucket and pulled out another one. When it was finally lit, his attention was on the conversion van.

          It beckoned him. It called out to him. It urged him to come closer, to peer through the shaded windows and into the interior. It exerted a sensation only living organisms could produce. Bob felt all of this while his eyes were glued to the vehicle. No matter how hard he tried to push the feelings away, he couldn’t shake the fear it sent through his body. He ignored all of this and began walking towards the far end of his backyard.

          He took one step.

          He took another step.

          He was halfway across the yard in four more big, cautious steps.

          Keep going, Bobby. There’s absolutely nothing to be scared of.

          After one more step, Bob Minden, a full-grown adult, peed his pants at the event that unfolded in front of him.

          A dark shadow, painted to the wall like a video projection, flew around the corner of the shed and dove into the van. With a tremendous shutter, the van rocked back and forth until it fell eerily silent and still. For a brief few seconds, the only sound and movement was the wind and fresh snow almost blinding the area. Without warning, the van lifted several inches off the ground. Quick, bright flashes of light lit the inside of the van like small, little strobe lights. Within these flashes of light, Bob could make out two figures who appeared to be struggling. The van dropped to the ground with a loud thud. A hand shot up to one of the windows in the back, clawing at the glass in terrible screeching sounds.

          He didn’t wait around any longer. Bob turned and bolted towards the side entrance of his house. Falling snow pelted his face and blurred his vision as he slipped and fell head first into the door. Ouch. Stumbling to get back up, he found the door handle. He couldn’t get it open fast enough as he finally fell into the safety of his home. Out of breath, shaking, and scared to hell, he pulled himself into one of the kitchen chairs to collect himself.

          “What is going on in here?” Linda stormed into the kitchen. Her face was red with anger, but as soon as she saw Bob’s face her expression changed. “Bob, you look sick! What happened to you?”

          “Nothing. I just slipped and fell and hit my head.”

          She gave him a queer look. “Are you okay?”

          “Yeah, I’m fine. Probably won’t even leave a mark.” 

          “Well, why don’t you come to bed and I’ll make you feel all better,” she said, adding a wink and a smile before disappearing down the hall.

          The gesture was an odd one; they hadn’t fooled around in well over four months. Bob was not one to turn down some hanky panky, even if it did come from his normally crabby and uptight wife. He quickly stripped as he made his way to the bedroom, feeling overly excited about getting some.

          The time with his wife replaced his thoughts from current, unexplained events, but only for a while.

#

          It wasn’t until his lunch break, which was around noon, when Bob smoked his first cigarette the next day. It’s not that he didn’t want to, he desperately wanted to inhale the sweet tobacco, he just couldn’t. Every time he reached for one of those cancer sticks, nausea swept over him, he would begin to shake, and he would feel stressed and full of anxiety. Flashes of those frightening memories of the van would pop up. When he was finally able to light one and put it between his lips, he had to stop himself from gagging with each puff. He snubbed it out with only half of it gone.

          He told his employees that he wasn’t feeling too great, and that he might take the next day off. If he couldn’t smoke, then he knew something was wrong with him. Being the boss had its advantages, so if this kept up, he probably would take a sick day.

          Bob was able to force himself to smoke one more time before the work day was over. This time he burnt about three-fourths of the cigarette before putting it out under his foot. 

          When work ended, Bob thought about heading to the bar to have a beer or two before heading home. He knew it would upset Linda, but he didn’t care. As he thought more about drinking, and the closer he got to the bar, he began to feel sick again. By the time he was parked in the small parking lot out back, his queasiness was strong enough to prevent him from leaving the car. It was the same feeling that came over him when he tried to smoke.

          Screw this.

          He left the bar parking lot and made his way home. The sick feeling subsided a bit, but it came back whenever smoking or drinking invaded his thoughts. By the time he was home, he was ready for bed.

          “Hey there, Bob,” Linda greeted him as he entered the house. “Dinner will be ready in twenty-minutes.”

          “I’m not feeling that great, I think I might go and lay down for a while.”

          “Bob, I slaved all day over this great dinner for you. For you!” Bob could see the anger rise in his wife’s face. She stormed off into the kitchen in a huff.

          He would normally stay and argue with her, but he really wasn’t feeling it. Stripping off his winter clothing, he made his way to the bedroom where he curled up on his side of the bed. He pushed the sickening thoughts of tobacco and alcohol out of his head and was fast asleep within minutes.

#

          Bob woke up in the middle of the night. His work clothes were still on and Linda was snoring deep in her sleep next to him. The red numbers on his clock said it was two in the morning, which meant he would have to be up for work again in only a few more hours.

          I need a smoke.

          It was his habitual thinking. And since the thought only made him a little nauseas, he decided to go out for a smoke.

          Quietly getting out of bed, making sure not to wake his sleeping wife—he knew better than to wake his wife during the middle of the night unless it was an emergency; the first time he did he vowed never to again—he walked out of the bedroom to get his things. Once he had everything and was all dressed up for the cold outside, Bob then made sure he was mentally ready for what was ahead. 

          With his hand on the door handle to the outside, his stomach began to clench up feel like he had swallowed a brick. Closing his eyes and taking in a few deep, slow breaths, he opened the door and readied for the worst.

          The outside was eerily quiet and peaceful. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, as the bright full moon shone down on the grey, black, and white landscape of the night. It was very cold, and the outdoor thermometer that was attached to the side of the house said it was just below zero degrees Fahrenheit. Watching thick clouds of air form with every breath, Bob knew he wasn’t going to last long outside.

          He kept his eyes away from the van and shed.

          Reaching for a cigarette and pulling one out, he immediately began to feel sick to his stomach. He couldn’t even put the thing near his mouth without starting to gag.

          It was annoying and frustrating. He knew he wanted to smoke; he wanted to smoke badly. He could feel his body and mind begging for one, aching for his addiction to get its fix from the sweet tobacco smoke. But at the same time, his body and mind were trying their hardest to force him not to smoke. He was very confused about what his body and mind really wanted.

          It was that damn van’s fault. If he were ever going to smoke or drink again, he would have to face his fear.

          He turned to look at it. The moonlight illuminated the shed, casting a large shadow over the van next to it. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but Bob knew better than to assume anything. He stared at the van for a few minutes before making any movement.

          He took two steps towards the van and then paused.

          Nothing happened.

          He took another two steps, the frozen snow crunching under his weight.

          Still, there was nothing.

          His nerves were getting to him. Paranoia swept over him, causing him to wildly look around at the slightest movement or sound. The snap of a branch somewhere deep in the woods made him look that way, while snow falling from a tree made him look that way.

          There was still nothing, though, and he was only several yards from the van and shed.

          See Bobby, you’ve been imagining it all.

          He froze in his tracks, his beating heart sped up, and his breathing stopped. A dark shadow had flashed from inside the van. It was quick, but he was sure he saw something. He didn’t dare move a muscle in his body. 

          After several seconds of nothing, hoping it was just his imagination, Bob continued forward. It happened again as soon as he took one more step.

          Like fireflies in the night, little glowing balls of light blinked into and out of existence within the large vehicle. It was beautiful, but it also sent shivers through Bob’s spine. The balls of light began to swirl about, never leaving the confines of the inside. The van hovered a few inches off the ground, rocking back and forth violently as the blinking lights intensified. There was no sound, which was odd considering how ferocious it all looked.

          It scared the shit out of him. If he hadn’t went to the bathroom before leaving the house, he would have wet himself. He had never been more scared in his life.

          But he had had enough. No more.

          “Stop it. Stop it! STOP IT!”

          Bob screamed as he ran towards the van in a rage. The vehicle slammed to the ground the moment he reached it. The lights on the inside were now ecstatic, flashing and swirling every color imaginable. A sinister laugh broke the silence, slightly muffled through the glass windows. His hand slid under the door handle. He hesitated, but only for a second before pulling the large double-doors on the side of the van open.

          Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside, so it wasn’t a surprise that police found him still screaming and holding both doors wide open.

#

          Bob watched them take his wife away. He was standing on the front steps of his house, drinking a hot cup of coffee an officer had brought him a few minutes ago. She almost hit her head on the top of the cruiser as two police officers ducked her into the backseat. He silently sipped his drink as two of the flashing blue and red vehicles, one containing his wife, drove away from his residence. That left him with two more vehicles in his driveway, an ambulance for the corpse, and another cruiser that belonged to the two officers left standing in front of him.

          “I think we’ve got everything we need, Mr. Mintz.” The woman was talking while the man was taking notes, and still having trouble writing in the freezing weather. “You’re wife has admitted to the murder of Vanessa Toothrick, confirming your story of not being involved with the crime. Is there anything you would like to add at this time, to your statement?”

          He had told them everything he knew. Well, almost everything. Finding the dead body of some woman in the conversion van was the truth, along with not knowing anything about the horribly disfigured and scarred body, but he did leave a few details out. There was no way he would tell the officers about seeing shadows, lights, and a hovering and shaking van that would lead to him finding the deceased woman; they would think he was crazy and lock him up in some mental asylum. He would never tell anyone the truth about what he saw. “No,” he said, “there is nothing else I would like to say.”

          “And you stand by your statement that you had only one prior contact with the deceased?” It was the male officer that asked the question this time.

          “Yes.” The woman had appeared only once in his life, two weeks ago when she came to the front door selling cosmetics. She was very flirty at the time, but Bob had completely ignored her as he was leaving for work. He had assumed his wife passed on the offer and sent the saleswoman on her way. He had assumed wrong, and something inside Linda’s overly jealous brain snapped that day. “Is there anything else? I’ve answered all of your questions, and this is all way too much for me to handle.”

          “Yeah,” the policewoman said, “I think we’ve got it all. Just make sure you swing by our office tomorrow to go over a few more things. And don’t plan on leaving town for the next few days.”

          “I’m not. I’m going to be staying with my friend for the next night or two, though. He lives only a few houses that way.” Bob pointed a shaking finger down the road. He was still nervous and shaken up from earlier.

          As the two officers began to walk away, one of them pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit the end. She turned towards Bob. “Care for a smoke?” the woman asked, offering her pack to him.

          “No, thanks,” he replied, sipping his coffee. “I quit.”

Love Trumps All

Love Trumps All

Ruth waited patiently for the phone to ring. She knew it wouldn’t ring for another hour and thirty minutes, but there was nothing in the world that would stop her from answering the phone. It would be a special phone call, her phone call.

            She was waiting to hear from her dead husband.

            “Mom, why don’t you do something to keep yourself busy?”

            “And what if I miss the phone? I would never forgive myself if that happened.”

            “You know when it’s going to ring. Do something until then. It can’t be good for you waiting by the phone for hours on end.”

            Ruth frowned at her daughter. She meant well, but she didn’t understand. “I’m fine just waiting here, Kathryn. If you want to do something you can, but I’m going to sit here until my dear Donald calls me.”

            “Okay. I’m going to get something to drink from the kitchen. Do you want anything?”

            “No, thank you.”

            The plastic covering on the couch squeaked as Kathryn stood up and made her way to the kitchen. Ruth stared at the basic red phone she and Donald had purchased years ago on one of their monthly garage sale ventures. It was a simple phone, with the receiver cradled on top and the buttons directly in the middle below. She didn’t need any of those fancy phones. Kathryn tried to get them once as a present a while back, but there were so many different features— the voicemail, caller ID, and speaker phone were confusing, and having a mute button made no sense—it made her head hurt. Donald couldn’t even make a single phone call. So they went back to the old, reliable red one, the one that was easy to use.

            “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to Dad?” Kathryn asked, returning with a glass of water and a book.

            She had thought about what she was going to say to Donald. It was all she’d been thinking about for the past few days. So many different conversations had played out in her head. She wanted to tell him so many things she never had the chance to do while he was alive, but she knew the call would end after thirty-seconds. What was she going to say? She wasn’t exactly sure, except for one thing. She would make sure to tell him one last time that she loved him and will forever love him.

            “Yes,” she told her daughter, “I’m going to say how much I love him and miss him. The only thing I really care about, though, is hearing his voice one last time.”

            “I wish you had that phone I bought you, that way you could put him on speaker phone.” Kathryn wiped away some tears that were forming in her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything. I just miss him.”

            “I know, sweetie. It’s okay.”

            The past week had been rough, for both of them. Ruth had been married for sixty-eight beautiful years to Donald Matsen until his passing. She had known him for most of her life, but not her whole life. Kathryn had known him her whole life. Ruth knew what it was like to lose a father, and she would not want to relive that.

            “Here,” she said, “have a tissue.”

            “Thanks, Mom.” Kathryn grabbed a tissue from the box that was offered to her. “If you don’t mind, I think I might read while you wait for Dad’s phone call.”

            “Not at all. Don’t mind me at all, you go and do whatever you want.”

            “You sure you don’t want anything to do? To keep your mind busy while waiting?”

            “I’m fine just waiting here, sweetheart. I have my thoughts and memories to keep me busy.”

            “Okay, well, you let me know if you need anything.”

            “Thank you, Kathryn.”

            Ruth turned her attention back to the phone, not that she ever took her whole attention off it in the first place. It wouldn’t be too much longer until she could talk to Donald again. The thought of it made her feel warm inside. She wasn’t a religious person, but she was happy the universe gave people the opportunity to talk to loved ones one last time. When the worldwide phenomenon was first reported five years ago, she and her husband could hardly believe the news.

#

            “Honey, get in here. You have to see this.”

            “What is it, Donny?” Ruth walked into the living room after preparing both of them some tea.

            “It’s all over the news. Here, let me rewind it for you.” Donald fumbled with the remote. “Ah, shoot. How does this thing work again?”

            Although the Matsens favored more simple technology, having a new television that could record at the push of a button, and rewind and fast forward just as easily, was Donald’s guilty pleasure. After receiving it as a Christmas present from their daughter—she was always trying to get them to try new and confusing products, like a computer and the internet—and after getting a lesson on how to use it by Jim, Kathryn’s husband, sitting in front of the TV became his favorite spot. He would record all of his favorite programs, which were usually found on the History Channel or the National Geographic Channel, and then watch them at his leisure. His favorite part was fast-forwarding through all of the commercials.

            “Aha! Got it. Here, watch this.”

            What popped on the screen next was a local news program, with an anchorwoman Ruth recognized as one of her friends’ daughters. The blonde woman with too much makeup on was reporting strange occurrences that were involving people who had recently passed away. Something about people getting phone calls from people they knew who had died a week before. It was too confusing, and impossible sounding, for her to understand.

            “I don’t get it, Donald,” she told him. “What’s going on? Is this some sort of joke?”

            “Apparently not. It’s being reporting from all over the world. People who died a week ago are calling people they knew who are still alive.”

            “How is that possible? It has to be some sort of cruel joke.”

            “It’s not,” he insisted. “No one is sure how, or why, it’s happening. But it’s happening. This is unbelievable.”

            “I don’t believe it.”

            “Well, sit down and watch.” He patted the empty seat on the couch next to him.

            She was reluctant at first, thinking her husband was trying to play a prank on her. He wasn’t the fooling type, though. “Okay, fine.”

            The two of them watched the television for several more hours that night, amazed at what they were seeing and hearing. Eyewitnesses were coming in by the dozens about getting phone calls from people who should be dead. The deceased would never—or couldn’t, no one was sure which—discuss the afterlife or events of the future. The person who had died would almost always contact someone they knew while living, but it wasn’t always the case. Some people were describing calls from people they didn’t know, some from people speaking a different language.

            It was all too surreal for Ruth, and she discussed it further in length with Donald while getting ready for bed that night.

            “So, what do you think about all of this hoopla?” she queried while they were both dressing into their nightwear.

            “I think it’s great. Why, don’t you?”

            “I’m not exactly sure how to feel about it yet. It’s weird. Why would dead people be calling the living?”

            “I don’t know. In most of the instances it sounds like they just wanted to tell a loved one how much they care about them.”

            “But how is this happening? What is allowing this to happen?”

            Donald looked at her and shrugged before getting into bed. “God? Aliens? Some other higher power? You know I’m not a religious person, but if this is truly real, then it could be anything. Maybe humans have evolved to live even after death. Like a soul, or leftover energy of a person’s conscience. Or it could be none of that and could reasonably be explained through the laws of science. Maybe a person’s brainwaves stay around for a while after death, and before finally disappearing, they want to contact someone one last time.”

            Ruth just looked at her husband. She wasn’t really into the whole science thing, so a lot about what he was talking about went over her head. But she knew her husband was smart, so she figured any of those answers could be right.

            “I really don’t know, though,” he finally said. “And I don’t think we ever will know until we die.”

            “Well, if it is true,” she said, climbing in to bed to join her husband, “then I’m glad people get the chance to say goodbye one last time. It’s a nice gesture from the universe.”

            He smiled at her. “I agree.” He kissed her goodnight and they went to sleep while the rest of the world continued to get calls from the dead.

#

            The phone ringing brought Ruth back to the present. Chills swept through her body thinking it was her late Donald, but then she realized the ringing wasn’t coming from her phone.

            “Oh, my God,” Kathryn said, pulling out the ringing cell phone from her pants pocket. “I am so sorry. I thought I had silenced this.” Her daughter looked at the phone, muted it, put it back in her pants, and then went back to reading her novel.

            “It’s okay. I was a little worried at first. There’s still a little bit of time before he calls.” Ruth had calculated the exact time of when the phone call should come. The dead always contacted the living exactly one week after their death, one hundred sixty-eight hours after their passing. According to her watch, the one Donald had given her for their twenty-fifth anniversary, she still had another forty-five minutes before the phone call would come.

            “You’re sure he’s going to call?” Kathryn asked, raising her head from the book she was reading. “I mean, I would hate it if he didn’t call. You know, sometimes people expect a loved one to call and then they never do. Or they end up calling someone else instead.”

            “He’ll call,” Ruth assured her daughter.

            “I don’t want you to get your hopes up and then—“

            “Your father is going to call,” she said, cutting Kathryn off. “He told me he would call. He promised me.”

#

            Ruth Matsen wanted to cry. She was looking at her husband, lying in the hospital bed, and she wanted to cry.

            “Can I have something to drink?” The voice sounded nothing like her sweet Donald. It was hoarse, soft, and cracking. Nothing like his normal, deep, baritone voice she fell in love with upon first hearing.

            “Of course, my darling.” She picked up the glass of water that was next to his bed and moved the straw to his lips. He sucked on the end eagerly, but still taking very small amounts at a time. His eyes closed in a satisfying gesture when he finished. “Is that good?”
            “Yes,” he slowly answered. “Thank you.”

            “Anything for you, Donald. I love you so much.”

            “I love you too, Ruthie. When I get over this, I am going to take you to so many great and wonderful places.”

            “Of course you will.” She knew that wasn’t going to happen. His cancer had spread too far and the doctors weren’t giving him much more time. Three months at the most, they said. Her husband knew this too, but he always had such a positive attitude towards everything. “We’ll go to Egypt. I know you’ve always wanted to visit the pyramids.”

            “And then I’ll take you to the Eiffel Tower, where we will have a delicious lunch while looking over the beautiful city of Paris.”

            Ruth had always dreamed of traveling to Paris with her sweetheart. They lived well and were fortunate enough to travel throughout North America and parts of South America, but traveling far overseas was a little too pricey. They had saved up for a trip to Europe, but after Donald was diagnosed with prostate cancer, any extra money they had went towards making him better. They had sacrificed Ruth’s dream vacation for his health, and it was worth it.

            “It will be so much fun,” Ruth said, going along with the fantasy that would never happen. “I look forward to that trip; it sounds wonderful, Donald.”

            “You deserve it, Ruthie,” Donald wheezed. “You deserve everything wonderful coming your way.”

            Tears formed in her eyes and began to collect on her cheeks. She dabbed her face with her sleeves, trying not to show any weakness, or sadness, in front of her husband. She placed the glass of water back down and looked at her husband. Really looked at him.

            His once normal, thick, black and grey hair was thinning and almost gone, replaced by a scalp resembling that of a rotting corpse. His eyes were sunken. The skin on his head pulled tight against his skull. His body was a thin, skeletal outline under the sheet that covered him from the neck down. His body looked like it would crumble into dust at the slightest touch. Wires and tubes snaked out from under the sheets, traveling up into machines and IV bags that monitored his vitals and kept him alive. The person before her looked nothing like Donald; he was replaced by a science experiment.

            “Oh, Donald,” she said, wiping more tears away from her eyes, “you’ve been so good to me. I love you so much.”

            “I love you, too, Ruthie.”

            A small coughing fit struck her sick husband. He violently hacked and wheezed until finally becoming still in his bed. She was a little worried at first, but then she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. He forced a weak smile to assure her he was fine.

            “Ruthie, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

            “No, Donald, you just lay there and get your rest. You need to get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

            “This is important. Please?” His eyes begged at her.

            “Okay,” she said, giving in to his adorable puppy face that he tried to muster through the reality of his sickly one. She could never say no to her husband. “What did you want to tell me?”

            “I’m going to call you.”

            She was a little shocked to hear this, but she tried to hide her surprise.

            “I’ve thought a lot about it. And, when I die, I’m going to call you.”

            “Donald,” she said, almost tearing up again as she looked into his eyes, “you know you don’t have to do that.”

            “I know, but I want to.”

            While all of the hoopla surrounding the deceased being able to call the living was at its height in popularity, Ruth and Donald had talked about what they were going to do after each of them passed away. The decision was that neither one of them would call anyone. It released any pressure that came with the call. They wouldn’t have to worry about what to say, there wouldn’t be any impatient waiting around after the other dies, and they wouldn’t be giving in to the trendy new thing that was taking the world by storm.

            “I thought we had decided we wouldn’t call each other.”

            “I know, and we did,” her husband wheezed. “But the more I think about it, the more I feel it’s important I call you.”

            “Oh, shush now, Donald. You’re not going anywhere. This cancer is just a little roadblock you’ll get over soon enough.”

            “Even if I do, which I doubt will happen, I still want you to know that you will be getting a call.”

            “Why? What made you change your mind?”

            A long silence passed between the two before Donald continued. “It’s because of love. Ruthie, you have been everything to me. I love you more than anything in the world, and I will continue to love you wherever I am after this life. I think that’s why this phone call thing started happening, because of love. You said it yourself, that it’s a nice gesture from the universe. I think the universe is giving us the one last chance to talk to the people we love. Love trumps all, Ruthie, and there is no one I love more than you.”

            There was no amount of cloth in the world that could stop Ruth’s eyes from flowing those tears of love.

            “I love you too, Donald,” she told him, grabbing his hand for support. “More than you could know.”

            He smiled weakly at her before closing his eyes and falling asleep for the night.

#

            Ruth would never forget that moment, etched into her memory for the rest of her life. Even now, six months later, the scene was as vivid as the rays of sunbeams shining through her living room window.

            Not too much longer, now. She tried to remain calm, but Ruth could feel her nerves begin to rise. Her hands were clammy and her heart was beating a little faster at the anticipation.

            “It’s getting close,” Kathryn said, looking up from her novel. “Are you nervous?”

            “A little. Wouldn’t you be?”

            “Yes.” Her daughter paused for a few seconds before continuing. “Do you want me here when he calls? I can you give you some privacy and go into the other room for a while.”

            “No, dear,” Ruth said, reassuring Kathryn, “it’s okay. I want you to be here. If that’s okay with you.”

            “Of course it is,” she replied, wiping away the water that was slowly forming in her eyes. “It’s close, so I’ll shut up now.”

            Ruth smiled in thanks to her daughter and then looked at her watch, only six more minutes. Six minutes until the last time she would talk to her husband in this lifetime. It made her sad to think about it, but it also filled her with joy at being given the chance.

            “Kathryn,” she said, turning to her daughter. “Do you think you could get me a glass of cold water, if it isn’t too much trouble?”

            “Of course, Mom. I’ll be right back.” Setting her book down, Kathryn got up from the squeaky couch and made her way to the kitchen.

            So many thoughts raced through Ruth’s mind as she sat there, staring at her telephone. What if he didn’t call? What if the phone malfunctioned, or the power went out? Anything could happen. Maybe she was getting her hopes up for something that wasn’t really special. Doubt began to prevail in her brain when the phone rang.

            Ruth sat up in her seat, her eyes glued to the phone. She could make out her daughter running back into the room out of the corners of her eyes; she stood there, waiting for the phone to be answered.

            The phone rang for the second time.

            “Mom? Kathryn urged. “Answer it already.”

            Ruth cleared her throat and picked up the phone, holding the cold plastic of the receiver up to her ear. There was a silence on the other end, a silence that also had a substance to it. She had a feeling the other end was very far away.

            “Ruthie.”

            “Oh, Donald.”

A Break In Reality

A Break in Reality

“Oh, God! There’s so much blood!”

            “You have to put pressure on it. Give me your shirt so I can stop the bleeding. Amy, I need you to call 911 and get an ambulance over here.”

            “Guys? I’m feeling a little woozy. I think I need to sit down.”

            Marybeth saw the emergency her friends were experiencing through the corners of her eyes; she was too preoccupied with the anomaly in front of her. She wasn’t really sure what she was staring at, but she knew it shouldn’t be there. The object had probably appeared during the unusual tremor they had all felt while walking not five minutes ago. Her curiosity had taken over as she walked towards the strange thing, drawn to it like a fly to a bug zapper. She reached out her hand, inches from touching it, before being pulled back by her boyfriend.

            “Mary!” he yelled, yanking her by the yellow scarf—a gift he had given her last year for Christmas—and pulling her back from the weird feature. “I need your help here. Mary? Can you hear me?”

            Marybeth was taken out of her trance, brought back to the scene of her wounded new acquaintance. Amy, her best friend, had taken off the pink sweatshirt from around her waist and the piece of clothing was now being used as a makeshift bandage. Peter was wrapping it around Zane’s raised right arm, trying to slow the flow of blood that was already soaking through the now ruined sweatshirt and dripping down his arm. She could see by the look of Zane’s pale face that Amy’s new beau was not doing well.

            “I think I might faint,” Zane said. He was now sitting on the front steps of some nearby apartment buildings. His head looked wobbly, and his eyes were blinking rapidly.

            “Nope. You’ve got to stay awake, Zane.” He snapped his fingers in front of Zane’s eyes, trying to get his attention and keep him awake. “Come on, stay with me. Amy, you get an answer yet on that ambulance?”

            “I’m trying! I’m trying!” Amy had a frantic look on her face as she was trying to talk to the person on the other line. “Where are we? I don’t know where we are!”

            Marybeth could see that her best friend was having trouble dealing with the situation and the sight of blood; she was always squeamish when it came to bodily fluids. She walked over to Amy and tried to help her out and calm her down.

            “It’s okay, Amy,” she told her friend. “Take a few breaths. We are on St. Vincent’s Street, between 3^rd Avenue and 4^th Avenue. Tell them our friend is hurt and that we need an ambulance sent here immediately.” She waited for Amy’s nodding head to relay the information into the cell phone before turning back to Peter and Zane. “Is he going to be okay?”

            “Yeah, I think so,” Peter replied. “He got cut pretty deep, but I’ve managed to slow the bleeding down. As long as he stays awake and the paramedics get here soon, he should be fine. Are you okay, Mary? You were looking really out of it.”

            “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just, that thing,” she said, turning to the oddity that seemed to hang magically above the sidewalk before them.

            It looked like a crack, like a sliver of glass had been chipped away from a larger pane of glass, except there was no glass. The whole thing was suspended roughly four feet above the ground. It looked about three feet in length and only about five inches at the widest part, which was the middle of the strange thing. It fascinated her, and before she knew it, Marybeth was next to the odd phenomenon.

            “Mary, I think you should probably stay away from that,” Peter suggested, still attending to Zane.

            “Look at it, though! What is it?”

            “I don’t know, and I’m a little busy right now. So, will you please just stay away from it? It’s already proven to be dangerous.” He turned so he was facing Amy. “How’s that ambulance coming?”

            “They’re on their way,” Amy replied, keeping her cell phone plastered to the side of her head. “They want me to stay on the line until they get here. How is Zane? Is he going to be okay?” She knelt by her wounded boyfriend, stroking the black hair above his ghostly white face. “Oh, Zane, baby, everything is going to be alright.”

            Anger flickered through Marybeth momentarily. She loved her boyfriend very much, but the one thing that really got on her nerve was when Peter thought he knew what was best for her. It annoyed her, always taking charge and telling her what to do. It made her feel like a child, or even a dog, being told no. She was about to say something when she thought better of it. This was neither the time nor the place to start causing personal drama. Besides, he was just looking out for her safety. She decided to bring it up some other time and returned her attention back to the crack, making sure to stay several feet back to keep her boyfriend happy.

            It was quite queer. Bending forward to get a closer look, she could see that there was an opening inside the crack. It was hard to see through the opening from where she was at, so while Peter was busy with their wounded friend, she took a few steps towards the object to get a better inspection.

            It was like peering into another world.

            The window opened up into a fantasy realm, a different universe, and it was gorgeous. Dark violet grass rolled along a hilly, wide, open landscape. A forest, made from different hues of red vegetation, was off to the left. Large, white mountains rose high into the sparkling, blue sky to the right.  A few thin lines of smoke traveled up from the rooftops of a small looking village off in the distance, most likely from families cooking their lunches or keeping their homes warm. It all looked so real, and she could even hear lovely nature sounds and smell sweet fragrances coming from within.

            Taking her gaze away from the inside, Marybeth walked around to the other side of the crack. It was all but invisible when looked at from the side, which was why Zane didn’t see it as it sliced through his arm minutes ago. Thinking she would see the same thing through the other side, she was gravely disappointed.

            The opposite side was a window into a nightmare. It was dark, so she couldn’t see much, but what she saw frightened her. She stared into a twilight realm, with a black sky lit up by three different glowing moons. A bubbling bog, with murky, purple fluorescent lights eerily shining through mounds of moss and dead grasses, took up most of the scene. Monochrome positive forests lined the left and right sides. Sounds that chilled to the bone came from creatures hiding within the shadows and bleakest crevices. A blurry, winged monster flashed in front of the viewing window, sending Marybeth stumbling back as she tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a scream.

            It was impossible, but there were two separate worlds through both openings of the crack.

            “Hey,” Marybeth said, calling to her friends from behind the splinter in reality. “You guys have got to see this.”

            “Still busy over here,” Peter said. “Amy, go watch for the ambulance and see what Mary is fussing about.”

            Marybeth fumed silently to herself. She knew they were in an emergency situation, but her boyfriend was starting to get annoying. The paramedics were on their way, and Zane’s wound did not look life threatening; Peter did not need keep up the attitude. She ignored any eye contact with him and watched Amy walk over to her instead.

            “Zane will be okay, Amy,” she said as she hugged her friend. “Don’t worry, help will be here any second.”

            “I know. I wish they would hurry, though.” Wiping away some tears, her face scrunched up as she caught a glimpse through the chip in reality. “Oh, wow, what is that? This is what cut Zane?”

            “I have no idea what it is,” she replied. “But look closer, through the opening.”

            “Oh, my God! What is that? Where is that? This cannot be real.” Amy looked bewildered as she walked around to the other side and stifled back a scream at the other opening.

            Before Marybeth had a chance to say anything, the familiar sound of ambulance sirens could be heard from around the block. The flashing lights soon followed, and then the large vehicle turned onto their street. Seeing them, Amy frantically waved her arms in the air to get the driver’s attention.

            “Oh, thank God,” Amy said. “I thought they’d never get here.”

            The ambulance pulled into an empty space next to the sidewalk and parked. With the sirens turned off, but the lights still going, a woman jumped out of the driver’s side while a man burst out of the back.

            “Where’s the injured person?” asked the woman paramedic as she rushed up to Amy and Marybeth.

            “Over here!” cried Peter, waving from the steps of the apartment building they were loitering on. Both paramedics rushed over to Peter and Zane, immediately unpacking their first aid equipment and assessing the situation.

            “What happened?” asked the male paramedic.

            “We were walking down the sidewalk when he ran into that thing over there,” Peter said, pointing to the object directly behind Marybeth and Amy. “It cut his arm pretty deep, and I think he’s lost quite a bit of blood.”

            Marybeth hadn’t noticed it at first, but Zane had lost a lot of blood. Large drops covered the sidewalk, leading to a small pool that had collected under his feet. Maybe her initial assessment was wrong and that he was more injured than she thought. She felt a little guilty for ignoring him; she hoped he would be okay.

            “Okay, let’s have a look,” said the female paramedic. She looked at the wound and began to apply professional first aid. “He has lost a good amount of blood, but it doesn’t look too serious. Where did you say he cut himself?”

            “Over here,” Amy said. “My boyfriend cut himself on whatever this is.” She pointed to the glass-like crack floating above the sidewalk.

            “What the hell?” The male EMT had stopped checking Zane’s vitals while he gaped at the phenomenon. His curiosity was just as strong as Marybeth’s, making him walk up next to her and Amy to examine it. “What is that?”

            “We don’t know,” Marybeth answered.

            “Paul! I could use you over here!” yelled the female paramedic.

            “Right. Sorry. Coming.” He stared at the oddity for another couple of seconds before running back over to help with Zane.

            As their injured friend was carefully hoisted onto a stretcher, a police car pulled up and parked next to the ambulance. The situation was also drawing in some passersby, and a small crowd of several strangers had gathered to see what all the commotion was about. A tough looking woman stepped out of the cruiser, immediately taking control and telling people to stand aside. She narrowly avoided being cut by the same thing that had wounded Zane when Marybeth yelled out to her.

            “Look out for that!” she warned, pointing to the hard-to-see, razor sharp pointy end that was inches from the cop’s body.

            The officer stopped into a defensive stance before seeing what she was about to run into, then she just looked bewildered. “What is that? Can someone inform me as to what is going on?”

            “We’re the ones who called 911,” Marybeth said, speaking up for her group. “Us four were walking down the sidewalk when Zane over there ran into this. As you can see, it’s almost invisible when walking towards it.”

            “What is that, though?” the officer asked.

            “The paramedics said Zane should be okay,” Peter said, walking up to Marybeth, Amy, the officer, and the chip in the universe. He then turned to his girlfriend. “Did you tell her what happened?”

            “Yes,” Marybeth said. “I was in process of…”

            A low rumbling stopped her from continuing. The ground and everything around them began to shake. She had to grab onto her boyfriend to keep from falling over. A loud, snapping and booming sound, like that of shifting ice covering a frozen, winter lake, generated from the window that gazed into two different worlds. The crack grew larger. It stretched and widened, forcing everyone around it to take a few steps back. Marybeth had never been more frightened as she watched the passageway threaten to envelop them.

            “We should not stick around for this,” she said, tugging on Peter and Amy. After seeing what the openings had to offer, she knew nothing good could come from the growing anomaly.  She pulled harder on her friends. “Come one, we need to go.”

            “What’s happening?” Amy looked terrified as she followed her best friend.

            “Peter, come on!” Marybeth begged, noticing her boyfriend was not with her as she and Amy ran from the danger. She was about to wait for him, but then she saw the horror that began to unfold.

            Expanding and growing with every tremor, the hole that linked their reality to two other universes increased at an alarming speed. She was only a couple of paces away, with Peter frozen with awe and staring at the queer event, when the creatures burst forth from both sides. Marybeth didn’t have time to yell or warn her beloved boyfriend as a ferocious, butterfly-looking monster, emerging from the friendly and peaceful looking realm, impaled him. She stopped dead in her tracks, too startled at watching the one person she loved most—sure he could get irritating, but she still loved him—in the world die and be carried off into the sky. In the corners of her watery eyes, she could see other abominations break through into their world. Anyone within a few feet of the crack was annihilated. Peter, the police officer, and two other bystanders that were unfortunate enough to be too close were taken out by living things that could only be found within the darkest regions of a person’s imagination.

            Marybeth, never letting go of her dearest friend, ran as fast as her legs could take her. She ran and ran, never stopping until she passed out five miles from the incident that would make worldwide coverage.