The Wisdom of Evil (16 page)

Chapter 2
2

The summer was waning fast, as it did in Maine. The nights brought the cooling caress of pine scented air. Even during the oppressive heat of summer, most nights were still cool and pleasant. And the stars high above this untouched terrain were, for want of a better word, spectacular.

If she
’d only been able to open her eyes to the innate beauty of nature, she may have been able to handle challenges much differently than she had. The interconnectedness of all things could be found in the still places of the mind, not in the hurried, frantic thinking that was her normal pace. Her mind had always worked overtime.

After her brother’s visit, she was left in the house with memories and her own thoughts.
Mickey was busy with his own life now, just as he should be. Yet, he was always there for her if she needed him. But, when Mickey announced that he was joining the Cliff’s End police department, Glory was in a state of panic.

“Please, Mickey, don’t do it,” she pleaded. “I can’t bear to lose you. You’re all I have left!
You an’ Ted!”

“They need me, Mom. Things just keep
gettin’ worse out there. Maybe we can still protect that which we all love about Cliff’s End. I can’t just ignore what’s going on out there. If I don’t do it for us, then for the future. I don’t want my kids to grow up with the way things are now. I want them to have the kind of childhood I had. Things have just…gone too far with people losin’ everything and the violence… It’s my duty to take Dad’s place. To protect and serve.”

Glory looked at her son with love and fear both
, and yet, she couldn’t help being proud of him. Like Michael, he was a man of honor and courage. She felt privileged to have loved them both.

When he left for
training at the police academy, she was truly alone. Or so she thought.

Yes, in her personal life, she was very lonely
.

At Kate’s funeral
, she and Mickey endured the looks and sideway glances of disapproval from the staff at Mainely Paws, as well as Kate’s family. No one even spoke to them. After giving their condolences, much to the relief of everyone there, they left. She knew they blamed her for what had happened. Hell, she blamed herself. She never went back to work.

One night, at
exactly two-fifteen a.m., she felt as if she were being watched. She awoke feeling disoriented, her brain still wrapped up in the cobwebs of sleep. She saw something, or perhaps just perceived it. She didn’t know which. The mirror, it wasn’t right somehow. She sat up straight in bed, leaning forward, her eyes squinting in the dark. What she saw in that glass made her jump out of bed as if it were on fire! Two glittering green eyes floated without any sign of a body, moving smoothly behind the glass surface!

Then, the voice
. “Glooooreeeee!” it called her name eerily, beckoning to her. “No! Go away! I have nothin’ left! Just,
leave me alone
!”

“I
’ll
never
leave you, Glory. Not like all the others. I will
always
be here. Just you and me, locked together…forever.” It laughed, the evil echo of it reverberating in her ears. She ran from the bedroom into the bathroom and slammed the door.

She held onto the edge of the sink, face down, trying to get her breathing under control. Turning the knob for cold water, she splashed her face
and on the back of her neck. It helped. She inhaled a deep breath, looked up into the mirror and, with a jolt, backed away from it. The Reaper was standing right behind her, his image mirrored along with her own. From sheer instinct, she backed away from it. Into…nothing! Nevertheless, the image remained in the mirror. Now, with the florescent light in the bathroom, he was completely incarnate! He was as real as she! His face was covered with the well-known black hood. Only the glowing green eyes and skeletal grin were visible. They were full of…
life
, animated even! He held the infamous scythe in his hand. A tool that normally had no sinister connotations, one she’d seen often on the many small farms and large yards in rural areas. It was used to cut grass, crops, and other plants by swinging the blade horizontally close to the ground. In other words, it was a Reaper. But this evil scythe was not used to reap any vegetation. No, this horrid tool was meant to tear down life itself!

Raising the scythe high in the air, he swung
it! It made a terrifying
whooshing
sound in the air. A hand, palm up, the bony fingers exposed, reached out to her. Defying the very laws of physics, the forearm and hand of the creature had escaped the confines of the mirror and hovered over the sink.

“Take m
y hand, Glory. Do not fear me,” it said in a wistful, almost sorrowful voice. Surely, it was a cruel trick! This thing meant her harm, she was sure of it.

She
could’ve sworn her feet were cemented to the very floor. She couldn’t move. The arm came out further now, within mere inches from her face! The stench of death assaulted her nostrils. The gleam of rotten, putrefied flesh, blood, bone, and tissue—all of it was a shining nightmare.

Turning, as if in slow motion now, she began to run from the room when it yanked her hair
; her neck jerked back violently. In a blind panic, she held her hair taut, grabbing the scissors lying on the vanity. Twisting her arm in an unnatural position, she cut away her hair; cut and cut in a crazed frenzy, until finally, she broke loose of the Reaper’s grip.

Not bothering to look back, she ran. But where could she go, really?
Olivia’s room! She ran in and closed and locked the door. She sat on his bed, shaking all over, her hair in ruins. The wheels in her head were turning. Could she hide from this thing forever? Or was it a futile battle? After all, her opponent was much stronger than she. That much was certain. Whatever strength she had lay in her character, the core of her soul. She needed to dig deep, very deep to find it. At this point, she prayed to God for help, not really expecting any, praying to what she believed to be a non-existent entity.

“Hello, my love
.” Again, the soft, almost seductive voice. It was coming from the corner where a full length antique mirror sat kitty corner against the wall.

An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she looked upon the Grim
Reaper in its entirety.

The black hood and the long length of its
jet black cape shimmered with an ethereal glow. The arms of the thing were covered to the very wrists. Only those two bony hands holding the scythe up against its middle were visible. The scene was all the more surreal, ominous, and yet…beautiful somehow, as the long robes billowed as if touched by an unseen breeze. The face was hidden as it always had been in the many pictures and portraits done by artists over the years. It was as if an unwritten rule applied to this mythical creature; a rule that forbade human beings from seeing the true face of death, or from glimpsing into the future. It could only be seen when the Reaper came for you. For Glory, he’d always been more than a myth!

“You cannot deny me, Glory. Do you know how very special you are? That Death itself
loves you…wants you? Only I can give you what you truly desire. Take my hand and you shall become one with me; you shall be immortal! Isn’t that what you
really
want? You fear only what you do not understand. I shall make you my bride.”

“Michael, if you’re out there somewhere…please…help me…”

“You call to him? A mere mortal! He’s nothing now, gone into the very dirt from which he came. Ah, and he’s decaying at a rapid rate too.” The Reaper laughed. “Would you like to see what has become of your precious Michael?” He spit the words out in her face, mocking her.

Not waiting for an answer, the image in the mirror stood back
. A scene appeared of a deep, dark patch of earth. His head bowed as he pointed to the scene. “Look.” He commanded her, pointing his index finger at the sight. She looked down at a gravesite. Michael’s grave! The very house itself shook as she stared in horror, unable to turn away, watched as six feet of earth was dug through by an invisible shovel, dirt piling up in large mounds on either side of the grave, Exposing the open grave and what lie in it.

In keeping with a natural or “green” burial, Michael had been wrapped in biodegradable cloth.
This was done as a means to allow the body to decompose naturally, decaying quickly, so that elements like carbon would be naturally recycled.

Glory wanted to turn away but couldn’t. The material was unwrapped by invisible hands. She put a hand to her mouth as she gazed upon the sight! Michael, in a state of swift decay
, his face was a mass of tissue and muscle. Already, his skull appeared. His eyes had sunken all the way down, leaving nothing but empty sockets. His hands had deteriorated as well, making the fingernails appear hideously long. Thankfully, he’d been buried in full uniform, which covered the rest of the ghastly sight.

After her initial shock, anger enveloped her. How
dare
this monster desecrate his grave like this! Stripping Michael of the dignity he deserved even in death. Glory wanted to preserve his memory as it had been when he’d walked the Earth, where he’d loved and been loved.

Glory whipped a hair brush from Olivia’s dresser
and flung it at the mirror. “Go
fuck
yourself!” she screamed. The mirror shattered, the tinkling sound filling the room. Spiky pieces of glass littered the hardwood floor. As she ran away from the horror, she cut her foot. She was so mad she didn’t even notice. A small trail of blood followed her out of the room.

Still, he appeared in every window and mirror.
His image was on all the glass surfaces in the house!

I’ll fix this
, she thought, hurrying to the linen closet. She tossed out blankets, sheets, pillow cases, towels, tablecloths, and anything else she could find to tack up at the windows and mirrors.

At each window and mirror, he was there, reaching out to her, calling her name. “Fuck you,” she muttered, ignoring it. The thumb tacks were ineffective at holding the covers at the windows
; they simply weren’t strong enough.

She went to the utility room, searching through Michael’s mess of tools
—he didn’t keep the stuff neat. It had always been a bone of contention between them. “Damn it!” She threw tools out until she found what she’d been looking for, the nail gun. Her hands shook as she loaded it and went about the entire house, putting up the covers.

When she finished, out of breath and sweating, her adrenaline levels returning to normal, she was
thoroughly exhausted. Still, she stayed alert until the dawn hour. She stayed in a corner of the kitchen, lying on Haley’s old blanket, her body in the fetal position. Finally, she must’ve passed out.

“What the…” Mickey walked slowly into the kitchen a few hours later. The house was unnaturally dark. And his mother was curled up
, asleep on the kitchen floor! He didn’t disturb her. He knew she’d barely slept since his dad died. Instead, he walked slowly through the rooms. His mouth dropped at seeing the hodge-podge of coverings everywhere, the windows, mirrors, even the stainless steel appliances. He knew his dad wanted her to see a psychiatrist, had insisted on it. But, then Olivia had died and everything was put aside. Plus, there’d been no further incidents other than the one Mickey had witnessed himself that night.

He’d seen
something
under those covers pulling at his mother’s arm. He tugged at the covering on the kitchen window, a large sheet. It looked like she’d stripped the beds too, all of them. He yanked hard at the sheet, realizing she’d nailed them in! Still, it ripped. The shredding noise woke Glory up.

“Mickey! Don’t! Leave ‘em up. If he can’t see me, then maybe he can’t find me. And he’ll…leave me in peace!”

“Mom, you can’t live like this. I can’t live like this! I’m taking ‘em down.”

He did a double take, noticing her hair. Her beautiful, auburn locks were chopped, sticking up
in jagged, uneven spikes everywhere.

“What happened to your
hair
?”

“The
Reaper…he grabbed me by the hair. I had to cut if off to get away.”

Mickey sighed, resigned to leaving the covering up, if only to give her piece of mind, even as he felt she was at the least seriously disturbed, or worse
, truly crazy.

C
hapter 23

Glory awoke with a start, her back aching from having slept for hours on the hard pine floor of the kitchen. The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window. She scrambled off the floor, shocked.  She’d covered this window! Had Mickey taken them down? She ran from room to room. In each room, the same thing! All the coverings were gone!

Rushing to the linen closet, she yanked the door open. Nothing was in it! So, where the hell were all the coverings? With shaky hands, she dialed Mickey’s cell.

“Hi, Mo—”

She
cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “Did you take the covers off the windows, Mickey?”

“Huh? What are yah talking about? No, I didn’t. They were there when I left this morning.”

“Well, they’re not here now. And they ain’t anywhere in the house either!”

“Okay
, you’re really freakin’ me out now. Maybe you took ‘em down and don’t remember.”

“
For Chrissakes, why would I do that? I put ‘em up for a
reason
!”

“Do you need me t
o come home? I think you need to see…a doctor, like now.”

“Fuck that! You think I’m crazy
just like your dad did! I’m not crazy. Never mind…I’ll deal with this thing myself! Just…stay away. If you don’t believe me, then I don’t need your help!”

“Mom, please…”

Furious, she hung up on him.

Going from room to room, she
made sure all the doors and windows were locked. Now, she needed to protect herself not only from the crazies—she carried her gun and a box of ammo at all times even when sleeping—but from this supernatural “haunt” as well.

The laughter again
, the sick, twisted sound of the Reaper’s evil laugh. But this time, he failed to appear in the glass surfaces. In his place, bright red letters appeared, the color of fresh blood, dripping at the bottom of each letter. RIP ME TO SHREDS.

Just what in the name of God did that
mean
? It was the same in all the mirrors and window panes, the same four words. There was a message here, a clue, yet it eluded Glory! The ugly glare of the paint, while it was frightening, angered her. She grabbed a bottle of Windex and paper towels, wiping the ugly red lettering away. The laugh, still audible, resonated throughout the house. She screamed as she cleaned. “What do you want from me?”

No answer, not in words
anyway; just the bone-chilling laughter. She was missing something here, something of great importance, but her mind was jumbled.

The death of Michael, Haley, the guilt of killing those crazies on the bridge, the loss of her job and lack of sleep turned her brain into a muddled mess.
Only three things were clear; she was afraid, angry, and sad all at once.

When she was done, she returned to the kitchen
and moaned when she saw it. The letters were back! As if she’d never touched them at all, no smudge marks or any changes at all!
How the fuck can it be?
She thought
.
Maybe she really was crazy after all!
In anger, she threw the bottle of glass cleaner at the window, where it bounced off one of the bars, falling useless into the sink.

“I have you right where I want you
!” The voice was so very close to her ear. She whipped around. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cloak of the Reaper floating away from her.

S
uddenly, her heart beat so fast it felt as if it threatened to come right though her chest. This pounding was unlike any anxiety attack of the past.  Clutching at her chest, the pain was like an anvil had been placed on top of it. She felt dizzy. The pain shot up her left arm as well, right to her jaw! Her breathing was erratic.
I’m having a heart attack!
She thought just before she collapsed to the floor.

Surrounded by an all-encompassing darkness, images appeared. Lone images, like the changing scenes in a movie against a black screen.

Olivia’s name written where it shouldn’t be, on a cold, gray headstone. Glory was standing in front of it, telling her she loved and missed her. A common cliché as it were, but it was
her
cliché.

The image faded only to be replaced by another picture from
her life.

Her parents
’ faces, gone for what seemed like forever now; she’d barely been able to recall what they looked like anymore. She felt no animosity toward them. For how could one expect perfection in others when they’d never achieve perfection themselves?

Another scene passed
, of a picnic at Sebago Lake; everyone happy, laughing amidst the crisp clean surroundings, the smell of the lake itself mingling with the aroma of charcoal and good food. The image in her mind was merely a ghost image of days gone by. Although her heart may ache for them, they would never again return.

And then there was Michael, standing tall and proud and so
young
in his tuxedo, waiting for her at up at the altar in the church of her youth where she’d received Holy Communion and Confirmation. His hand extended out to take hers, to have and to hold, to begin a new story, one that they’d create together.

All at once, a
light appeared, so bright it obliterated all the scenes and the darkness. Glory felt weightless, as if she was floating away. Gravity had somehow disappeared. There was no pain here, just a peace that she’d never experienced before. No matter how hard she’d sought peace, it always eluded her…until now.

And then…wait. There was…something backlit by the light. Something brushed by her soothingly and although she could not really feel her body, she was able to feel a feathery touch. And…whispering, but what was being said? Who was saying it?

The backlit figures became ever more visible and the whispering had increased in volume to the point where she was able to make out actual words. A most warm and welcoming smell arose as they came near. It was a vague almost undetectable scent that smelled like vanilla. She could not tell if any of her five senses were reliable…but it seemed that all were being pleasantly assaulted.

It was hard to describe the feeling
. Although she was wrapped up in a lot of different emotions, one shone through like a beacon—love.

Standing
right in front of her, appearing instantaneously, was Michael. Behind him were more beams of light that became more distinctive as they got closer. There were so many of them…so many souls, swirling gracefully, effervescent white, like whiffs of smoke with human features entangled in the swirls.

Even Michael did not appear as he had in life; it was more like an ethereal version of him, a view of his very soul. That which live
d on in all of them, not visible the way they believe it would be. They were simply too beautiful for words.

Was she dead? She was unsure of what this experience was…but she liked it. Somewhere behind her, she heard voices of a different sort than these ethereal beings. She could
n’t make the words out; they sounded jumbled and chaotic. She never wanted to move from this place.

“I promised you
, Glory.” Michael spoke without speaking at all. He spoke from one soul to another.

“I love you
, Michael…and I miss you so much.”

“Mom?”
She heard a soft, familiar voice speak, a voice she hadn’t heard in many a year now. A voice she’d never forget, not in a million years.

“O
livia, my baby girl! Are you really…here?”

She nodded, smiling
. The ethereal light and her soft eyes, hair billowing all about her, made her appear as an angel.

“I love you…never stopped, won’t ever…”
The words drifted off as Olivia extended her arm to take Glory’s hand in hers. Their fingertips touched. The shock of that touch was like a bolt of lightning, stronger than any human touch.

“What is this place? Is this…heaven? Am I dead then?” She was
n’t afraid for the first time in her life. Not afraid of their answers, not afraid of anything at all.

“It is whatever you think it is, Glory. Do you think its
Heaven?” Michael’s voice was gentle, loving.

“I think it’s…home
.”

“Then that’s what it is.”

Glory saw the others that had been hanging back, patiently waiting at the fringes of sight.

The vague fragrance of vanilla grew stronger and there was Joan. “Glory, my daughter,” she said, standing beside her son.

“Joan, I miss you so much. I’ve needed you so much and wished you were with me still…”

“I am. We all are,
dear, always. Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not there. Sometimes…you just need to look with your heart, not your eyes.”

A wealth of memories flooded through her when she called her “
dear” as she’d always done in life. She remembered that Michael had told her the very same thing before he died. To look with her heart and he’d be there, just as he’d promised.

Her parents told her they loved her, always had. That they just didn’t know how to show it
. They wavered in and out of her line of sight and the words seemed muffled, but she was able to understand.

Here, in this place and time, Glory found
what she’d been searching for her entire life; a sense of belonging, of peace.

“Glory.”
Hearing Michael say her name again was bittersweet and yet, he was becoming less solid, more like an image covered by a white veil. She was losing them; they were fading into the light little by little.

“No! Please…I can’t lose you again. I can’t bear it all over again
! Not when you’re all within my reach!”

“Glory…you
’ll never lose anyone you’ve ever loved. We’re all here, and we’ll be waiting for you when you come back. You have a home here always and forever, but you have another home right now, and you’re needed there…”

“No, please
!” She grabbed for Michael’s hand. He took it in his and put both of them over her heart.

“This is where you
’ll find me, right here in your heart, if you need me. Don’t forget it.”

“I’m…scared, Michael. I need your strength
, and Olivia, I can’t just leave…”

“You can, Mom. I’m happy here. God is here.
We believe in you, even when you doubt yourself and don’t believe in anything. There are those who will
always
believe in you.”

They faded and the light went along with them, leaving her once again in the dark. She could no longer hear peaceful voices. What she did hear were other voices, frantically calling her name. She did not feel the weightless feeling anymore
. What she did feel was her own mortal body and the pain of it.

Her eyes fluttered
, opening and closing like a butterfly’s wings struggling to remain fixed on a flower. She fought to keep them open. Cool air streamed into her lungs. With one sharp intake of it, she came to her senses. Mickey stood over, looking frightened out of his wits!

“Mom
?”

The
chaotic shouting she’d heard while in that other place must have been him.

“What…happened?” she asked.

“You fainted, and I couldn’t find a pulse for over a minute!”

“Was I…dead? I thought
…did I was having a heart attack?” Her voice sounded foggy and thick.

“No, I think you had a pretty severe anxiety attack.”

“Can you get me a glass of water, please?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

She drank it down in a few short seconds.

“Mom, I gotta say this, and don’t get…mad. This has gotta stop! I’m takin’ you to the doctor tomorrow, that’s it.”

“No, Mickey, not tomorrow. The day after, I promise, I’ll go. If we’re still here, that is.”

“Why not tomorrow? And why wouldn’t we be here?”

“Tomorrow is December the twenty-first…two-thousand an’ twelve.”