In Sickness and in Hell: A Collection of Unusual Stories Read online

  “It’s time for bed now,” his mother said. “Everyone else has already gone to sleep. Go on then, get inside.” With a last wary look at the woods, Timmy went inside. His mother shut and locked the door behind him. The click of the deadbolt broke Timmy from his stupor.

  “Mom! We have to go home now! I…”

  “Shhh!” she whispered, a finger held across her lips. “I told you, everyone else is asleep already! Please, quietly go to your room!”

  Timmy made a dash for the floor plank that hid the book, but his mother’s hand had him by the collar. “Oh no you don’t!” she said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but it’s clear you scared yourself silly playing out there in the dark.” She marched him to the room he shared with his brother and sister.

  “But—” Timmy began. She silenced him with a slap across the cheek. “I’ll not have you talking back to me either, young man! You know better!”

  It was no use. Timmy dutifully changed into his pajamas and got into bed. His mother came in to tuck him in.

  “Oh Timmy,” she said. She was looking down at him much more kindly now that he was in bed and being quiet. “You’ve let your imagination take you away again, haven’t you? But here, look”—she crossed the room and drew the curtain back from the window—“Nothing out there, just a quiet, peaceful evening.”

  She let the curtain fall back into place and kissed him on the forehead. “Now go to sleep, Timmy.”

  “Mom…” Timmy said as she was closing the door behind her.

  “Not another word, Timmy!” she hissed back. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Everything will be okay in the morning, I promise. Now, go to sleep!”

  And she shut the door firmly behind her.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Timmy was staring at the curtained window across the room. He thought he had heard something tapping on the glass. He tried to tell himself that it was just the wind, but there weren’t any trees close enough to the cabin for a branch to reach. At least, there hadn’t been when his mom made him get in bed. Straining his ears, he waited for it to come again, but everything was silent. Then, tap tap tap.

  Timmy counted his brother’s snores until he reached twenty-five. Slipping out from beneath the covers as quietly as he could, Timmy crawled across the rough boards to the window and carefully pulled himself up beside the bottom sill. Without any light behind them, the thin cotton of the curtains was enough to block any sight of the forest surrounding the cabin.

  As slowly and carefully as he could, Timmy pushed aside a tiny corner of the curtain and held one eye up to the opening.

  Nothing. Nothing but the trees and the dead leaves and the breeze that made the leaves whisper. Timmy breathed a sigh of relief. But then, he heard the voices of the woods over the sound of his brother’s snoring as they recited the final verse:

  “Her woods are dark,

  Her woods are deep;

  Her woods grow closer

  When you sleep.”

  Then the yellow eye of Viktoria the Fae was staring back at Timmy through the corner of the window.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Timothy,” she whispered to him in the silence. “Sleep well, little child. Sleep well…”

  What Is Lucy for?

  Lucy opened her eyes and stood up in the cold room. Across from her, the dim red light of her alarm clock glowed in the darkness. Six a.m. She’d fallen asleep on the floor of her dorm room again, face down between carbon structure diagrams and unbalanced chemical equations.

  Walking towards the single, blind-covered window at the end of the room, Lucy rubbed her eyes. Her mind recalled the events of the day before and just as quickly dismissed them; lately, every day seemed better forgotten than remembered. Lucy threw open the blinds, suddenly scared by the darkness all around her.

  She gathered her books from the floor, throwing them into a pile and dropping them on the desk on her side of the room.

  Lucy’s roommate Jackie shifted in the top bunk.

  “Damn it, Lucy, why are you so loud? Be a little considerate, will you? I don’t have class until ten!”

  “Sorry,” Lucy mumbled. She and Jackie didn’t get along that great. No matter how hard she tried, Lucy always seemed to do something that bothered her university-appointed roommate. It was weird, because at home she had never felt like she was that difficult to live with. Maybe she and Jackie just weren’t a good match.

  She crossed back across the room and flicked on the small fluorescent light above her mirror. Never a good match, she thought into to her reflection as she combed her straight black hair. Doesn’t matter what it is, but it never feels right. And always so—she pulled a battered hoodie over her head, looking into her own harsh eyes as she pulled up the hood, the cloth causing black shadows to fall across her face—distant.

  Her life had been changing, but not as she had wanted it to. At long last, here she was at college, away from her family and her home. Surrounded instead by endless cornfields and bunker-like brick buildings. In high school she had never stood out, academically or socially, yet she had never quite fallen through the cracks either. Despite her best efforts she could never force her way beyond what appeared to be her station in life. She had family of course, and people she talked to and people who trusted her, but no one she really called friend. It wore on her constantly, as carrying such a burden would wear on anyone who bore it alone.

  She had thought that it would be different at college.

  As she stepped down the granite stairs into the low mist and night-formed dew, she hiked her backpack up and tucked her hands into the front pouch of her sweatshirt, the image momentarily reminiscent of a robed monk called to vespers until a break of sun cut through the trees overhead, reminding her that another long day was only just beginning. The light dissipated in the swirling fog at her feet.

  There was one thing that Lucy knew for certain though: there was something different about her. She never could find exactly what the cause was, but somehow she always found herself alone in the end. It was never a sudden exodus by those around her, it was not a defined departure. Friends just drifted away. Whenever this happened Lucy would be consumed with self-doubt. Is it me? Something I did? The way I said something? But she was alone with no one to answer her questions, and there was nothing for her to do but bear the burden and continue on her path.

  She had so hoped that it would be different at college.

  She had made sure to pick a school far away from home, where no one knew her, where she could start over. It didn’t matter. Her curse had followed her, and those that she tried to draw close to always seemed to be pushed further away instead. Thinking on it now, she realized that more than once a friend had seemed much happier once Lucy was out of the picture. It was a thought that drew Lucy closer to the dark ideas of the night before; to the dark thoughts of every night over the last month of her miserable life.

  The beauty of fall is sister to the bitter cold, and more often than not the siblings travel hand-in-hand. Lucy’s thin hoodie, faded with years of use, couldn’t hold back the chill any better than it could levee the bitter emotions flooding her conscience on this silent morning. Bit by bit, the layered protection she’d built up over years of loneliness broke, and her tears fell to mingle with the morning dew. Flinging her backpack away from her, she slumped heavily to the ground. Wracking sobs shuddered through her as she clutched at the earth, the cold grass slipping through her fingers. Her soul cried out with a hundred questions, and each of those questions was the same: Why? Why was she alone. Why was she forbidden from happiness. Why was she alive at all.

  This at last was all she could take. All her life she had tried, but now she knew she could withstand the crushing despair no longer. There were a hundred ways to escape from this life, and each of them was the same. The cool mist spun in eddies around her body, playing with the shadows of dark thoughts in her mind.

  “Are you alright, miss?” a warm voice asked from nearby. Lu
cy looked up as she brushed loose hair from her eyes. A scholarly looking man sat just ten or so feet from her on a park bench, enjoying the morning air. He had kind eyes which were turned away from the rising sun and compassionately towards her prone form.

  Embarrassed, Lucy stood up as she tried to wipe away her tears. “Yes, I’m okay, it’s just a difficult week for me.”

  “My dear, it’s only Monday morning. How can a week so freshly started already be categorized so poorly?”

  “It’s…it’s more than just the week, I guess.”

  The stranger smiled. “Good. To admit is to stand before the gateway of acceptance and—for some—acceptance itself is the gateway to forgiveness. It is the former that applies here, and that is why I’ve come to see you, Lucy Evans.”

  Suspicion filled her with foreboding. Not fear, but wariness. “What do you mean you’ve come to see me? Do I know you?”

  “No, but don’t be afraid, I won’t detain you long. Come, sit by me and take in the glorious light of the rising sun.”

  Lucy stepped towards him. The mist seemed to grow thicker with each step until she felt as if her feet should find resistance to her movement. She sat at the far end of the isolated bench beneath a large tree, its leafy defenses falling as winter marched ever closer.

  “Do you go to school here?” Lucy asked the stranger timidly. Chuckling, he shook his head no. “Do you know me from somewhere else then?” Lucy asked. The stranger watched her out of the corner of his eye, evaluating.

  “Not exactly, but I’ve been monitoring you for some time now. I know a lot about you, but this is the first time we’ve been allowed to meet in person.”

  Lucy’s anxiety grew as the man went on. She couldn’t tell what he was trying to say, and she could no longer see anything beyond the thick fog that had surreptitiously surrounded their sheltered garden.

  “You’re starting to scare me,” she interrupted. “Either tell me what’s going on or…or…” Now Lucy heard the first notes of fear enter her voice. She had no clue what she could even threaten him with. Why had she sat down, anyway? She couldn’t remember doubting that it was what she should do, she had just followed what he had suggested, like he had power over her somehow.

  “Peace, child,” the man said as he placed his hand on her arm, “for the Lord is with you.”

  Through his touch, a long history of lives flashed through her mind like a torrent of water, each life a droplet flowing by too fast to be named, but as a whole she witnessed an unending existence filled with near-despair. And yet through it all Lucy felt herself enveloped in a deep feeling of contentment such as she had never before experienced in her entire life.

  A few minutes passed in silence as Lucy’s mind caught up with the world. When she had recovered enough to speak again, Lucy looked in wonder at the stranger and asked, “What are you?”

  “An angel, of sorts,” the man answered. “It’s not a very accurate answer, I’m afraid, but it’s the easiest and most useful one I can offer you.”

  “What is going on, what is happening to me?” Lucy asked, more to herself than to him. She felt that she should be more upset, more afraid, but his hand was still on her arm and the feeling of peace still radiated from his touch.

  “You asked a question, and it’s my job to answer it for you, that is all. You lead an unusual life, child, and you are deserved some explanation as to why.

  “Ready then?” the man continued, “Alright, here goes: First of all, I am indeed a servant for the Lord, and I’ve come to you to steer you away from…well, from a darker path. God has a purpose for all of his children, even the inhuman ones.” He paused, and it took her a second to realize that he was referring to her.

  “I’m…not human?”

  “Not completely. There’s no earthly term for what you are, but if you like you can think of yourself as part angel. Mostly, if truth be told. Now then, quick change of topic but it must be done. Do you know of Lucifer?”

  “The devil? Of course I do. I went to Sunday school as a child. He’s the bad guy, the tempter, the torturer of souls and all that.”

  The stranger shrugged his broad shoulders in response. “Not quite that cut-and-dry I’m afraid, little one. Think of the question this way: not who, but what is Lucifer? What purpose does he serve in the celestial scheme of things?” He watched as her mind worked.

  “Well, he’s on the other side,” she began, slowly. “He represents evil.”

  “Almost right. Allow me to fill in the holes; I’m sure you will see how obvious they are once pointed out. God sent Jesus, the teacher, to show humans the right way to live their lives, correct? But we know that not everyone learns the same way, and that different ways of teaching are required to reach different types of people. Jesus was the right path, an example of how decisions should be made and how lives should be lived. So what would that make Lucifer?”

  “The wrong path?”

  “Now you’re getting it. You were correct when you said that Lucifer is on the ‘other side.’ Try thinking of a soul as an object that must be moved. To move it, you either pull it towards you from one side or you—”

  “Push it away from the other.”

  “Precisely. Jesus is an attractive force; Lucifer, a repulsive one, but both serve the purpose of guiding the world towards its proper destination.”

  “Wait a sec,” Lucy interrupted. “Then Lucifer’s not really a bad guy, is he? He’s being villainized when he’s actually helping people. That hardly seems fair to me.”

  “Not exactly. Don’t doubt that Lucifer is evil, but his evil is to fulfill a purpose, the knowledge of which makes it easier for him to bear his own existence. I’ll agree that it’s unfair though, for he had little choice in the matter. Which brings us to the real point of this visitation.” He turned his body fully and faced her directly. His eyes shone with a piercing light as he looked at her.

  “What is Lucy for?”

  Her mind reeled at the implications of his question. “You weren’t quite telling the truth earlier,” Lucy said quietly. “I’m no angel. I push people away from the darkness, don’t I? I’m repulsive, like Lucifer.”

  The angel’s voice took on a new urgency. “Yes,” he said, “you are. But you’re forgetting that Lucifer is an angel too, just like you. You’re not evil the way he has become though, nor as loathsome. For you in particular it’s subtle sins, the smallest of trespasses which bleed the world of goodness one tiny evil at a time: lies, ingratitudes, jealousies and the like. There are thousands of your type all over the world. Without even knowing it, you take on and exemplify the evils and the faults of the people around you—you weren’t a bad roommate until you moved in with Jackie, remember?—and seeing it in you steers them away and back to the path they were meant to follow.”

  The truth behind his words cut her deeply, all of her shadows drawn out and exposed. Once again, Lucy felt tears on her face.

  “But it repels them from me. That’s why they drift away. That’s why they’re happier when I’m gone,” she said.

  “It does,” the man admitted. “But they are better for having known you, Lucy, and that is a fact you must hold in your heart and never allow yourself to forget.”

  He reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. Her hood fell back around her shoulders.

  “Please understand, dear one, that there is nothing wrong with you, it’s just the way you were made. It’s what you are meant for.” He smiled as he looked at her, but behind his eyes Lucy saw a thought that the angel seemed not to want to say aloud. He released her chin. His voice went quiet again, like that of a patient father speaking to his child.

  “Alright, dear one, I’m sorry but the next part is the hardest. Now that you know the truth of your existence, I must offer you with a choice. I cannot sugar coat this contract. Are you ready?”

  Lucy nodded her head. The mist swirled violently on the ground around them, but the sparse leaves of the trees remained motionless.
There was no sound now but that of her breathing.

  He stood and approached her where she sat, gripping her shoulders in his hands. His entrancingly bright eyes were mere inches from her face. She held herself as still as possible, holding his gaze and wondering why even beneath the glow of contentment she was beginning to feel fear.

  Then all of a sudden his voice was in her head, loud and echoing, each word reverberating within her.

  You were created to guide His people to the correct path. You had no choice, for it is your purpose and it is all that you exist for. You cannot lead a normal human life for you are not one of them.

  Her hands were clamped desperately over her ears and her mouth was open. Her body was screaming. The angel went on, relentless.

  You must carry this burden alone, armed only with the knowledge that there are others like you, and that your suffering means salvation for His children. There is no life for you but duty. There is no punishment if you reject this, only oblivion. Those are your options. This is your choice. Decide, and your decision shall be done.

  And then it was over, his voice was out of her head and Lucy found herself being held, her head tucked into his shoulder and his hand stroking her hair.

  After a while, Lucy pulled herself upright on the empty park bench. The stranger was gone. On trembling legs she retrieved her backpack from the ground nearby and walked towards campus. The air was still cold but the sunlight and the shadows had reached a compromise in the mid-morning. Lucy left her hood down, letting her skin absorb the bright world around her. But her mind was still focused inward, contemplating the shadow she had once thought to be a soul.

  Six months passed.

  Without trying, Lucy continued exemplifying the sins of those around her. Just like normal people, she never realized it was happening until it was too late; everything from anger issues and compulsive lying to addiction, jealousy, and ungratefulness, just as the angel had said.