A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 4

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                As the music faded, the voice of the radio announcer came on and started with the top news story.  Abbey reached over and pressed down on the snooze button.  “A little disaster here, a murder there topped off with a feel good story to help you forget how shitty things are, or should I say fucked up?”  Sunlight was pouring into the room over the bed, the warmth of it felt nice against her bare skin; she threw the covers off to the side and just relaxed. The events of the evening put down to a horrible nightmare, “too much work Abbey, that’s all.” She turned her head to the side and spoke to the empty room, “not enough love either,” she said.

 Her cell phone began vibrating on the side table making her jump out of bed.  Standing there, she could only stare at it, as if it was something new, something to fear.   “That’s ridiculous! Glass and plastic that’s all it is she muttered before leaning over to pick it up, “Hello?”

“Abbey my love, how are you I’m so sorry to hear about you and Francis, but things will get better, you’ll see - just look behind you and you’ll see.”

“Yeah, I mean no, no everything is fine, just a little weird.  Wait, what?  Look behind me, but that’s what the voice said in my dream.”

Abbey felt like she’d stepped into a tunnel and let the phone drop away as she began to fall.  She reached out but found only air and came down hard hitting her head on the edge of the footboard and ended up face down on the floor. 

It could have been seconds, minutes or hours but the room was black when she opened her eyes and uncomfortably hot.  Her body was glistening in sweat and rivulets of water trickled down from the curve of her back as she tried to sit up. The sensation of pins and needles tickled her left arm suggesting at least that it had been more than just a few minutes.  She began to rub her fingers to relieve the sensation looking around as she did.  The question of the oppressive darkness was easily answered by the long heavy drapes that were drawn tight and that the door to the ensuite bath and hall were closed.  The air was dense and humid, triggering a coughing fit that at least kept away a case of claustrophobia. 

Abbey reminded herself that she’d been in the catacombs of Paris and through the Carlsbad caverns in New Mexico.  The memories of that time made her smile and she started feeling a little foolish.  “Francis must have come back and… and what, left me here naked on the floor and closed the drapes?  What the hell is going on?”

The phone started vibrating on the floor and she was back in the tunnel; her mind swirling as all the memories from the night before came crashing in on her like waves.  She tried fighting it off, tried to rationalize it away, “Please, please, please, no!”  Then the buzzing stopped. 

Tears began welling up and there was an overwhelming urge to scream when the phone began buzzing again, the backlight casting an indigo blue light across the floor.  It had fallen beneath the bed, just out of reach from where Abbey sat cross legged on the floor.  She felt around for something to put on in spite of the sauna-esk temperature when she remembered that she had thrown a pile of Francis’ clothes on the floor.  Her hands were shaking as she pulled a shirt on and started fastening the buttons.  The phone clicked on again only this time it began to ring. It was a special ring tone that Abbey had set up for when Francis’ called, a Cold Play song.  The indigo blue light was like a beacon sending a message of hope.  She dropped to her knees and crawled around to the side of the bed, “Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry You don't know how lovely you are-“

As the music played Abbey tried to reach under the bed frame but the phone was farther up than she thought.  “-I had to find you, tell you I need you, “time was running out and she began to feel panicked.  She dropped to her stomach and reached in hitting her hand against a storage box. “Fuck!” the phone was on the other side of one of those long flat rubber maid containers for storing extra clothes or bedding.  She grabbed a corner and pushed it to the side, watching it slide down the length of the bed as the music continued to play. As she turned back to the phone she could see something on the other side of the indigo blue light. It was on the opposite side of the bed but she couldn’t quite make out what it was. “-Tell you I set you apart -“Abbey grabbed the phone and lifted it up on an angle using it like a flashlight.  The soft blue light illuminated the far side of the bed and along the base of the wall. Abbey’s breathing quickened as her heart raced and she fought the feeling of fainting as she lay still, staring at a pair of bare feet, then the call stopped and the song ended and the room was dark once again.

Abbey was almost hyperventilating; her scream came out with each word like its own sentence “What-do- you- want?”

The reply came in the form of another phone call, the same ring tone as before, as the song played Abbey lifted the phone up in front of her but kept facing the floor. The blue light cutting into the darkness and with it the very thing she was too afraid to look for.  Her head felt like it had a weight attached to it and it took all her strength to tilt it backwards.  The bed frame first, then a corner of the down comforter that draped over the mattress came into view; finally there was nothing left between them.  Her eyes saw all the familiar- safe things but in her mind she also saw the feet on the other side of the bed, those horrible ghostly feet.  Her nose was dripping and tears were streaming over her cheeks, she didn’t want to look, the third line was playing now, only one more before the phone would shut off Abbey thought to herself.  She wasn’t prepared for what happened next, what she saw, it couldn’t be.  Abbey was looking at herself standing across the bed dressed in a 19^th century bed robe, torn and dirty, her hair was shorn to bearded stubble.  Shaking she dropped the phone as she rose to standing preparing to run. 

“LOOK BEHIND YOU!”

It felt like someone was shouting right next to her, Abbey cupped her hands over her ears and pulled back tripping on the rug coming down hard on her left elbow.  A loud crack told Abbey that it was broken long before the pain coursed through her body.  The snapping sound was different.  It was more like tearing sound.  Not that Abbey was a Doctor, or had first-hand experience with a lot of trauma but it was no sound she had ever experienced.  There was too much happening, the pain blinding and pushing away everything else.  Just before she blacked out Abbey saw the hole in the floor.  She had stumbled on the rug and somehow uncovered a secret compartment in the floor exposing a stack of letters and pictures.  The drapes burst open and the room was suddenly filled with the brightness of mid day making her squint, the last thing she saw before she passed out was of the apparition disappearing through the window. 

A Kind of Homecoming - Chapter 3

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                Behind closed eyes Abbey could sense a flickering light and a quick procession of thoughts cascaded over her.  “I should get to bed, geeze I didn’t realize I fell asleep with the TV still on, I wonder what time it is?”  The drug of sleep was set deep and the act of doing anything was a struggle, especially considering the late hour and the fact the sofa provided a cocoon like nest that was both comfortable and comforting.  If only the TV was off she thought, there would be no reason to push out of the blissful slumber.  But the flickering light was nagging and relentless and soon it was an overpowering and a controlling thought that had to be dealt with.  The muscles in her face reacted and a slit of light came into view.  As gradual as warming water the slit increased letting in more light, and the haze of her surroundings expanded and came into focus.  Something was different, something about the quality of the light didn’t feel right, and the usual brightness from the static after the final hour of the broadcast day was usually softer.  It was also inconsistent with the video tape of the fire log playing in its eternal loop, and yet the artificial fire that had soothed her into slumber only hours ago still danced and cascaded light over the floor and walls of the room.  FIRE! The suddenness of the recognition bolted Abbey upright and out of the passive comfort of restfulness that she so desired and needed.  That recognition evaporated like summer heat off a stretch of highway, replaced by wonder and fear. 

The large 52” display that Francis had purchased was gone, along with the entertainment center that stood sentinel on either side.  Her eyes widened unnaturally to the scene that lay before her.  In place of the flat utilitarian shelves that were lined with DVD’s and CD’s was an ornately carved Oak bookcase.  It ran the length of the wall, from floor to ceiling filled with hundreds of books, ledgers and pencil sketches in small wooden frames.  In the center was a massive brick and stone fireplace with a timber mantle and a hearth that extended 2 feet into the room with a fire burning softly within.  Abbey stood with mouth ajar, staring into the fire letting her eyes retrace the unnatural wall and its holdings.  She forced herself to look around the living room and beyond, catching all the changes, some subtle, some not.  Hardwood floors beneath her feet, plaster walls with smaller hand tempered glass windows, no lights in the ceiling, no switches, no thermostat, no microwave, or appliances, gone, it was all gone.  Outside the night seemed to have swallowed all light including the street lamp that had stood as a beacon and usually filled the room as a constant reminder of its presence.  A loud clang and a spray of water shot across the floor making the fire spit as drops from the fallen vase hit the flames.  A small round table lay on its side at Abbey’s feet.   “What the hell - where did that come from?”  Abbey turned and found that the sofa she had been asleep on moments ago was now gone, replaced with a hard looking wingback chair.  Things began to change faster but always away from sight, to the left, right and behind her.  Abbey began spinning in circles trying to keep up; feeling dizzy she stretched out her hand to hold herself upright. 

A loud bang and a rumble carried a vibration along the floor to her from somewhere down the bedroom hall.  From deep in the shadow a pair of red eyes was staring back at her.  Abbey could hear herself screaming but it sounded far away, like it was coming from down the hall with the thing. 

She lifted a candle from the mantle and held it with an outstretched arm, willing the light to go farther into the black.  A shuffling sound started and they eyes moved, whatever it was, was coming to her.  Abbey could feel her pulse quicken and her breathing became shallow but couldn’t move, fear had gripped her as solid as stone where she stood.  As it moved closer, faint images began to take shape as it touched the light from the candle.  Abbeys arm began to shake, the light bouncing across the wall, trying to pull back.

“Who’s there? What do you want, why is this happening?”  Abbey began to cry and had to reach out with her other hand to keep the candle steady.  The shuffling stopped, the shape of the person, thing, was just outside of sight.  “Please, please, don’t hurt me, I don’t want to die!”  Nothing happened for what seemed like an eternity, her tears splash

ed on the floor.

A thick watery voice called out, “Aaaabbeeeey!”

Abbey shrieked and dropped the candle.

“Aaabbeey, look behind you!

Shaking her head, her eyes cast down to the floor, paralyzed with fear, tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and she could feel a hot breath on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and could only wait for something to happen.  The breath grew in strength becoming a constant breeze, then a strong wind buffeting and pushing into Abbey making her feel like she would fall over any second then nothing.

She stood in darkness, afraid to look, until a light music could be heard.  The music slowly got louder and louder.  Abbey opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the familiar ceiling of her bedroom.  The clock radio playing was on and playing a piece by Chopin.

A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 2

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                The sun was shining in Albert’s bloodshot eyes as he sat in a small booth at the window of the Highway 5 truck stop diner.  He was finishing his 4^th coffee of the morning, milk with no sugar when Sandy Jensen brought the pot over to Albert and refilled his cup.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something honey? Jack makes a great breakfast; eggs, bacon, hash-browns and toast.”

“No, I’m good.” croaked Albert as he continued to stare out the window.  He was squinting, trying to avoid eye contact.  His eyes were black from lack of sleep and his cheeks left tell-tale signs from his tears.  Sandy reasoned it could be from the late night; after all she had started her shift with Albert sitting in the same spot over 7 hours ago. After 12 years of working at the diner she was pretty sure there was something else though, something much bigger.

“All right then dear, you just call if you change your mind.” putting on her best easy-as-you-go smile almost gliding over to the table of regular truckers behind him.  The men were all joking together, a bouquet of cigarettes and gasoline followed them and clouded over Albert’s head.  The solid thump of age old ceramic mugs hit the laminate table and filled the diner as each man took turns up righting them from their place.

Albert pulled his hands up to his face and began to sob as I’ll be home for Christmas came on the radio.  Half way through he lifted his head and wiped his face with a napkin from the dispenser.  He started pulling items out of each pocket and laid them out in front of him, lining each item up as if he were taking inventory.  Two pens, one wallet, one cell phone, keys, some loose change, and a ticket stub from the movies he and Loretta had gone to the night before with the kids.  He picked up his wallet and started pulling the various cards out along with a small amount of cash, laying each item out like a game of solitaire across the table.  Albert eyed over the objects, rearranged a few of them, smiled and sipped his coffee as he stood to leave.  He was out of the door before anyone noticed.

The black and tan Hummer roared to life and was already making a left hand turn onto the highway when Sandy came back to the table and spotted the curious display.  She started to run towards the door but was caught between the realization it was too late and the curiosity of the exhibit left behind.  It would be the center of great conversation for weeks to come at the Diner.

Two items that Albert didn’t leave behind were the school pictures of his kids and a case of beer he had purchased the night before.  He sat them neatly arranged on the passenger seat in the same mechanical fashion as he left everything else on the table, equally spaced, and straight rows.  The roads were clear and it was actually warm for December but the roomy interior retained a cave like cold and Albert instinctively turned on the heater.  He reached up and cranked up the radio to hear ACDC Highway to Hell and punched down on the accelerator. The SUV responded easily, 100, 120, then, 140 kilometers per hour.  “Drives like a dream!” he shouted over the music.  He reached over and grabbed a beer taking both hands off the wheel to twist the cap.  Albert guzzled the drink and pressed down a little more with his right foot, throwing the empty bottle behind him.  “Think I’ll have me another,” he said in his best Jimmy Durante voice popping the cap off a fresh bottle and pressing it to his lips.  He sipped a bit slower this time but was still finished before Angus Young gargled his signature “yeaahh” at the end of the song.  As the Hummer cruised along a loud rumble reverberated against the dashboard.  The quick consumption of alcohol had awoken his senses reminding him of his lack of sleep and food starved body. 

Just past the Avery gas plant a CN Rail train with over 120 cars was also speeding along as it crossed over one of the many intersections en route.  Engineer Ted Jacobs was behind schedule on his way north due to a grass fire just out of the city.  He was trying to make up time and decided to use the air horn in lieu of slowing down through some of the smaller communities.  The tracks meandered along the country side crossing over from west to east over the rural roads.  At some spots you were so close you felt like you could touch the train from the window or your car.  In other places it was hidden behind groves of trees or some far section of farm field.  The tracks crossed over the same road Albert was now racing down, just as it came into the small township where he grew up. 

Grabbing another beer he took his hands away to hold the bottle and twist the cap making the hummer swerve radically.  The bottle fell to the floor and began spraying foam over his feet as he grabbed the wheel and brought the Hummer back under control.  Still travelling at about 145 kilometers per hour Albert quickly dropped his head and searched the floor with his free hand while Matthew Good was shouting at the world on the radio.

As the mammoth train stretched out into a clearing after several acres of trees, Ted Jacobs noticed a light cloud of dust lifting into the air directly behind a very fast moving vehicle.  It wasn’t uncommon for people to race the train over a crossing but Ted didn’t think this guy was racing him.  Gut instinct told him this wasn’t going to be pretty and he began an emergency braking procedure to slow his train down but there wasn’t enough time.  Albert finally looked up with only 3 seconds between him and the wall of metal in front of him.

A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 1

With weary eye an apparition form takes place.

Slinks and folds in my disembodied soul, in shadows deep

Reveals itself in the blind and wickedness of our own closed hearts

We are the ones, our own to fear to loath in concentric self.

                                                          

Abbey Parker shuffled up the steps to face the wreath covering the mahogany door, closed her eyes and sighed.  Snow spiraled upwards in a sudden gust and settled down into the folds of her wool scarf making her shiver.  She coughed harshly fumbling through her purse for the keys cursing as she did.  Three days before Christmas and she still had no tree, no lights and no spirit; save a sprig of holly on the outdoor light and the wreath on the door.  It had been a long and busy month at the law office and the house stood empty in darkness with an uninviting air. Christmas was supposed to be a happy time of year but in this week alone she had prepared 3 divorce proceedings and had to begin the estate settlement for one Albert Brude. 

Albert passed away shortly after his office Christmas party by running the Hummer he was driving into the side of a freight train.  He is survived by his wife Loretta and 2 daughters, Katie and Jennifer.  Katie and Jennifer will be spared the knowledge that his death was related to the upcoming arrival of their little brother who will meet the world in the delivery room of the Grace Hospital.  Nothing would ever be mentioned that the father is actually Albert’s brother Jacob. “God bless us everyone,” choked Abbey as she turned the key and entered the dark hallway.

The house was an ice box and inside a skiff of frost covered the tiles in the foyer forcing her to concentrate on her footing as she thumbed the wall for the light switch.  “Why is it so god damn cold in here?”  There was of course no answer, nor did she expect one.  Francis (her boyfriend) had left on a business trip to Italy earlier in the week and wasn’t expected to return until the first week in January.  The trip came unexpectedly on the heels of an early morning phone call in which Francis felt compelled to have in the downstairs bathroom.  A text message from the Airport was the only notice she received as she sat with a client the previous afternoon. 

A barely audible click interrupted the silence and with it the soft glow of the concealed lighting that dotted the ceiling came to life.  The lights normally provided a kind of pseudo warmth to the house but not tonight.  In the yellow light Abby could make out the condensed vapor of each exhale and a carpet of frost that covered the laminate floor.  She carefully placed the laptop on the edge of the stairs and made her way up to check the thermostat.  The soft green backlight came to life with a single touch reporting the temperature of the room to be minus 15 degrees Celsius.  She looked at the timer and groaned as she realized what had happened.  In her hurry to leave she had actually set the vacation mode that morning instead of having it turn on at 4pm to counter the plummeting evening temperatures.  She tapped the pad in several places and after a ten second pause heard the furnace element ignite, another slight pause, a click then the comforting sound of warm air being pushed throughout the house.  Abbey leaned against the wall and swallowed hard sparking a coughing fit.  The overload of work, the holidays, Francis; it was too much, she was tired in her heart and didn’t want to try anymore, didn’t want to be strong or patient or understanding of everyone else’s problems.   The floor would have to be mopped after the frost melted but she just didn’t care and headed for the wine cooler.  After pouring a large glass of Chardonnay she lifted it towards the ceiling in a toast to the quiet house.

Taking the scenic route through the kitchen Abbey pulled out a box of Chinese leftovers from the fridge and closed the box inside the microwave.  She sipped from the glass while she waited and took a package of contact C from the side cupboard.  The foil back ripped open like sheet of tissue paper and the pill bounced onto the floor and under the stove. “Fuck me! Screw it!”  Tears welled in her deep brown eyes and threatened to break over like a dam but she pushed back the urge and moved toward the couch.  There was still a couple hours work to do before she could rest for the night and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help.

She picked up the laptop from off the stairs and set it on the coffee table next to her dinner deciding to refill in her glass before settling down on the sofa.  Abbey looked out the window at the falling snow while the computer booted up.  Minutes later the harsh light filled the room and strained her eyes making her squint.  Abbey grabbed the remote and turned on the television to fill the void with something.  The silence in the empty house was oppressive and she just needed something, ending up on the odd station that plays carols while a looped tape of log burns in a fireplace. 

Two hours later she placed the laptop back on the table, saved the file she had been working on and closed the program leaving the screen saver visible.  It was a picture from the original movie with Alister Sim in “A Christmas Carol”.  Laying back against the soft cushions she stared at the picture for a while and contemplated the overwhelming feelings of similarity between her situations to that of Scrooge.  Not that she was ill tempered towards everyone but the empty house certainly spoke volumes of her lack of interest in the season and it seemed she would be working as many hours as Bob Marley.  Abbey laughed in spite of herself and mumbled to the din, “Alone in a cold dark house, that’s us Scrooge.” She imagined the Christmases of her youth, filled with Aunts, Uncles and assorted friends and strangers and a brightly lit tree with presents spilling out into the room.  She could almost smell the hot apple cider simmering on the stove, a Turkey in the oven with all the trimmings set out on the table and Bing Crosby singing in the background.  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, the room quite now except for the crackle of the burning logs now on its 27^th loop.

Outside the storm intensified, the wind shooting the new fallen snow like knives, harpooning the trees and buildings and the terrified souls that were forced out into the blackness and cold.  Snow hit the window in waves like sand before the tide, catching, sticking looking in at the warmth, almost mocking it.  The screen saver of the Morley family having Christmas dinner remained, unblinking in the shadowed room, Scrooge and the ghost of Christmas present looking on as they stand in the background.  Everyone laughing and joking together, raising their glass in an eternal toast to Mr. Scrooge and as Abbey drifted off into a dreamless sleep and as her breathing slowed the snow still tapping on the glass something in the picture had changed.   The smiles had eased on the kids’ faces and a look of concern had now spread over Bob as he sat at the end of the table. Martha was now turned in her seat looking out towards the computer screen peering into the room where Abbey now lay.