Authors: Aven Jayce
“Huh?”
“Where did you come from?” His idea’s
crazy, but I fucking love it... I’m tempted, so fucking tempted. “Regretfully,
I have to work in the morning,” I frown. “I’m trying to be a responsible adult
this week, my job’s on the line and I have an email to take care of later
tonight.”
“Just
this
week you’re trying to be responsible?”
“One day at a time,” I whisper.
“Can you leave? Quit? Get out of that
place if... I know it’s easy for me to say because I work from home, but you
sound so unhappy whenever you mention it. I wish I could help.” He looks over
as he speaks and then sets his eyes back to the road.
I want my shadier side to take over and
push me into playing hooky and running away with him for a night. My
underwear’s wet from him mentioning the hotel, alright, I’ve been in heat for
hours thinking about him and not just now because of the hotel. I want to take
this a step further tonight, but not in another town. “Can I have a rain check
for the overnight trip?”
“But...”
“But I’m not passing on the sex.”
“Fuck, what am I, some male escort to
you?” He’s horrible at hiding a smile.
“Yes. Driving my truck is worth at least
an hour of pleasure, don’t you think?”
The paved road we were on just turned to
a stone drive and I’m suddenly bounced around as he takes us into a wooded lot,
deep into a wooded lot.
Hell,
Div, I don’t care if he’s going to fuck you in the woods or show you where he
keeps a pile of bodies, anything’s better than a two hour drive to shop for a
bunch of shit you don’t need.
You’ll never understand the importance of
spending time with another person, Violet. Quality time. I want to go, but I
have to send that email to Richard, and I can’t take another day off from my
job. My department’s about to explode, or implode.
Oh
good, there’s a house. Hopefully there’s a bed so you don’t have to fuck in the
mud. Wait, what do you mean I don’t understand the importance of spending time
with someone? What the fuck? I spend quality time with you every day.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“My parents’ property. The house is on
your right, try not to laugh. And just so you know, I’m not avoiding your
question about my tat.”
It’s pretty. A small brown ranch probably
built in the ‘70s with the front door and shutters painted red and a one-car
garage. Simple, but I don’t see anything to laugh about... oh... no... wait.
Dan pulls around back and my mouth drops
open at the display in his parents’ yard. Holy shit. I giggle at first, which
is a rare occasion for me, I’m not a giggler, but it comes out that way since
I’m trying my best to hold in the laughter. Not gonna happen. I burst into a
full-bodied laugh, almost in tears at the sight.
His parents have wooden cutout replicas
of him and his sister around the property. All at different ages in their life;
frolicking in the garden, standing next to the garage, holding rakes, oh shit,
hanging out buck naked next to a small pond. And I thought his silicone foot
was surreal. Whoa.
“I was only kidding, Div, you can laugh
your ass off. I do whenever I look back here. Ridiculous, aren’t they?” He gets
out of the truck and opens my door. “My aunt’s a painter, a portrait painter,
and my mother requested a painting of Bridgette and me every year since we were
born. Unfortunately this is what she came up with. These things.” He leads me into
the backyard and I see more at a distance.
“I can’t believe how realistic they are,
she’s incredible.”
“Yes, too bad she couldn’t have painted a
portrait of us on canvas to hang on the living room wall like a normal artist.”
“That one of you by the pond is, uh,
interesting.”
“It was created when I was three. My
parents had a hard time keeping my clothes on at that age. I loved to run
around naked. And yes, before you say anything, I know my penis is missing.” We
stop next to a big oak tree before he finishes his story. “Bridgette knocked it
off with a hammer one day after we got into an argument. My aunt has been
saying for years that she’s going to repair it, yet I hope she never does.”
“Why?”
“Follow me,” he says, testing an old
ladder that’s set against the tree. He starts to climb, then looks down.
“Better yet, wait ‘til I reach the top. I want to make sure it’s safe.”
There’s a platform he’s climbing to, not
a fort or some childhood clubhouse, just a platform with a half-wall facing the
house. He reaches the top, tests the boards then waves me up.
“You afraid of heights?”
I shake my head and climb.
“So, anyway, I’d prefer my nude figure be
without his penis rather than having my aunt work on that area. It’s too
disturbing.”
“Makes sense,” I say, reaching the top.
“Wow, Dan. Did you build this?”
He kicks the ladder away and it falls
from the tree in slow motion. I watch it bounce on the hard ground then give
him a questionable look.
“What the fuck? How are we going to get
down?”
“Shh,” he puts a finger in front of my
mouth for silence then places a firm grip on my shoulder, forcing me to my
knees. Shit, if he wants me to give him head he could be a little more polite
about it.
“My Divine one, I’ve found you.” He pulls
his necklace out from under his shirt and kisses the cross. I look to my left,
toward the house in case I need help, but who’s going to come? Will his parents
save me if I scream? And I can’t see over the half-wall anyway. I’m hidden from
the world.
“They’re not home. We’re all alone, my
child,” he whispers. “This is where I wanted to bring you when you were
wholesome and dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl the other night.” He tosses
his hat to the ground and pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his tattooed
flesh.
His necklace glistens in the final rays
of light. I turn again to my left, unsure as to what the fuck’s going on, but
curious enough not to jump... yet. My eyes study the board in search of a nail
that might be loose, or a sliver of wood, something I could use as...
...
as a weapon? You’re thinking about puncturing his skin with a nail and yet not
getting the fuck out of here? If you’re so afraid that you’re thinking you
might need to hurt him then fucking run. Don’t be a cliché character in a
horror movie that the audience screams at to run, just RUN.
You’re the bitch who wanted a little
excitement in her life. Wait, Holy Jesus.
“Do you see it?” he says softly. “Do you
see them?”
I swallow. The boards next to me are
scratched. The sun is gone, but with a small amount of light still left I can
make out tiny scratches on the wood. I run my finger over one and then another.
Crosses. Hundreds of crosses have been carved into the wooden boards.
He’s
going to use you as a virgin sacrifice to the gods. It’s some kind of ceremonial
platform.
Dan kneels before me. I swallow hard and
my heart accelerates like I just ran a marathon.
“Don’t be afraid, this is a place of
darkness, but also peace.” He takes my hand and places it over the blackbird on
his chest; his heart’s beating faster than mine. “As promised, in exchange for
you satisfying my love for your truck, you get your answer about my tat.” He
leans in and kisses my neck and I inhale the scent of evening dew.
“I wanted to be a priest when I was a
kid.” He brushes his thumb across my lips then rests it under my chin. “I can
tell by your expression that you’re thinking this is a joke, but I’m serious, I
swear to God,” he grins.
“Go on,” I whisper.
“My parents backed me up, actually they
were ecstatic. And, as a kid I did everything I thought would help send me on
my way to becoming a priest. I attended Catholic school during the week and
church every weekend. I was an altar boy, went to bible school Sunday mornings,
volunteered around the community, and hung out at the church’s youth center. I
was a good Catholic boy.”
He places his hand over mine, pressing it
securely against the flesh of his chest. “I brought you here because this is
the place where my dreams left my body. It’s where I sat one rainy night to get
away from my parents when they were arguing about money. It’s where my mother
called to me from our back deck to come inside and out of the storm. It’s where
I climbed down and started walking away from this tree. It’s where I saw a
flash of light and felt a jolt of electricity run through my body. And this is
where my mother screamed, my father held me, my heart stopped, and I died. No
light, no tunnel, nothing that I can remember until I heard voices all around
and became aware of my body being placed in an ambulance, and my mother yelling
my name into the heavy rain.”
“You died? Officially? Declared dead?”
“For about ten minutes, until the
paramedics arrived. The tree was struck by lightning and then the ground
current hit me. I ended up with severe headaches and a few burns to heal from,
but was lucky it wasn’t worse. I survived and the tree survived, but that’s
only the back story; it does get worse.”
“Fuck, that’s crazy. How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“So what happened?” I feel like I’m
opening an Egyptian tomb that may be full of beautiful gold, or could be filled
with black scorpions.
“I thought I was special, godlike for
surviving, superhuman or something, that is, until our priest visited me in the
hospital and set me straight. He didn’t pull any punches. Flat out he told me
the reason I came back to life was because I wasn’t wanted in heaven and that I
must have done something to upset God.”
“He said that to you? You were only a
little boy. How could someone be so cruel?”
“He was right.”
“No he wasn’t. I don’t believe that
shit,” I steam. “I’m sorry, but he crushed a boy’s dreams.”
“No, I was the one who ended up crushing
my dreams. I knew that if I could figure out why I was punished, if I thought about
my sins and asked for forgiveness, confessed, and repented; then maybe I’d go
to heaven. But I fucked it up.”
“Dan, you were twelve.”
He sighs and I bite my tongue so he can
finish.
“I combed through everything in my head
that could’ve pissed God off, but came up empty-handed, until I walked around
this tree. I hadn’t stepped in our backyard since it happened; it had been over
a week and one morning an urge took over.” Dan looks at the branches above us
then to the crosses carved into the wood. “The ground was covered with
blackbirds. Fifteen, sixteen, possibly twenty of them dead on the ground. I
viewed them for a moment as I thought my mother had viewed my limp body on the
same ground. They must have been sitting in the branches of the tree for shelter
from the rain when the lightning struck, but I’ve never heard of birds dying
from lightning, still haven’t. It seemed like a rare phenomenon, one of those
strange events that I’ll never be able to explain. All I could do was study the
species to try and find a connection.”
I move closer as his voice becomes
quieter in the night.
“Am I boring you?”
“No, keep going.” I say in a hurried
gasp.
“Blackbirds,” he runs his hands up my
back, pulling my body closer to his. My palm rests over his heart, feeling every
beat while he looks deeply into my eyes.
“I read that these birds are the link
between heaven and earth; eternal life, no beginning or end. But what went
wrong that night for them to perish while I continued to exist? It was the
question I kept asking and one I began discussing with the older parishioners
at the church after Sunday morning services. The majority of them had the same
answer; it was Divine intervention.”
A miracle! It’s incredible to think that
my name is
there
, in
that
phrase.
“God didn’t punish me or turn me away
from heaven, he saved me,” he says.
“That’s beautiful.”
“Our priest didn’t think so.”
“Of course,” I whisper.
“He said I needed to confess my sins and
acknowledge the darkness in my soul, and only then would I be permitted to enter
the pearly gates. My interpretation of the blackbird didn’t come from any part
of the bible; it was in one of my father’s history books on some ancient
culture’s beliefs and that didn’t please the priest. He insisted I find my
answer in the bible and nowhere else.”
“That’s one hardcore church you attended.
I grew up in a strict Roman Catholic environment, but it was nothing as intense
as that.”
He nods. “He didn’t deter me, though. The
man was my role model whose shoes I intended to fill, so I kept searching until
I found my answer about the birds.” He holds me tightly, leaning closer to my
ear. “They represent carnal pleasure... temptation of the flesh... and this
spot as a pre-teen was my place to rid myself of my pleasures.” He kisses my
lips and my body shakes. His breathing is heavy and warm as he moves his lips
to my forehead. “I confessed this to my priest and he said I had no
self-control and without discipline, I would never be like him. He said God
punished me; he struck me down in my place of sinister urges.”