STAKES
Chapter 1: Vessel
Copyright © 2015 Alexis Donkin
All rights reserved.
USAGE NOTE
DEDICATION
To those standing between opposing forces, struggling to claim their space and voice,
this one's for you.
I stand on a path through a field. It's no place I recognize. On one side, I see rolling hills covered in long green grass. The sky is blue with puffy white clouds. It's perfect. Exactly what fields should look like on a warm summer day. I don't notice any sounds – maybe birds. I walk down the dirt path and gradually it cuts the hills. An escarpment begins.
As I walk, it grows taller, casting a dark shadow. I peer into the dark, trying to see the history of this earth. Instead of rock, I see forms in the shadow - writhing. They twist and turn. Flecks of acid green, poisonous yellow, and blood red look out at me. They're filled with anger – pure hatred. Suddenly I notice growling – there's a grinding sensation pulling at my soul. I almost stop – unable to pull away from this horror – unable to run. Steeling myself, I take a breath. I continue walking – focusing on the sensations of dusty earth and small rocks poking on my soles.
I keep my face forward. I must keep walking, but the path is long. I see it stretching to the horizon. The grinding grows. The earth shakes under foot. The pulling grows. The shadows' growls reach a fever pitch. It turns into uncanny howls with the force of hurricane winds. I tremble.
I close my eyes seeking that place of peace inside.
I cannot give in. I must continue.
Gasping for breath I sat up, gripping my chest to hold my heart inside my ribs. I looked around my room. Blue predawn spilled across my room, distorting its contents. Childhood furniture marked my passage from one chapter of life to the next. I could just make out captured moments from trips, holidays, and picnics. Next to them were award ribbons, faded in sunlight, accumulating dust. There was a sparkling music box on the dresser. There were a few odd stuffed animals on a shelf. Another showed off a collection of shells and rocks from beach weekends and museum trips.
Moving across everything, my gaze settled on the window. Outside, the last calls of night birds echoed across the farm. Roosters answered, refusing to be outdone. Faint sounds of near farms signaled the coming dawn. Livestock called, eager for morning routine. Equipment started, grumbling to life.
Breathing a sigh of relief I laid back down. The dream images ran through my mind faster and more insistent the more I tried to push them away.
The difference between the beautiful day and the shadowed forms made me shiver. I licked my lips as sounds drifted down the hall from my parents' room.
“Sheri?”
“What Tom?”
“Have you seen my hat?” My mother let out a gusty sigh.
“Tom! It's wherever you left it!”
“Goddamn it Sheri! That god-damned cat peed in my boot again!”
Mom chuckled, as Dad let out a string of curses. I exhaled slowly. Things were almost normal. I could almost hear my brother's voice calling from his room.
“Dad – if you wouldn't close him in your closet -”
I swallowed. Silence.
I'm fine. I'm normal
I let out a shuddered breath as the dream drifted to the front of my thoughts.
Dear God, Protect me from the darkness. Amen.
After chores, we showered and dressed in nicer clothes. My parents and I got into the old pickup. We drove past the tiny stone church – a building that had been in the community for centuries, passing from one generation to another. Next door was the new worship space – built to accommodate modern preferences and a growing congregation. Worship styles shifted, however the message was unchanged, anchored in a time hundreds of years before.
My parents let the spirit come upon them just like always. Hands raised in prayer or praise, depending on the moment. Offering plates passed. Everyone sang with feverish fury. Sweat dripped from brows and I played along. I went through the expected motions, even as the dream replayed continuously in my mind's eye.
What if there really is a Hell? What if those were demons? What if they're gunning for my soul?
“Well, maybe Maran doesn't always think so!” the pastor crowed, his bawdy tone breaking through my thoughts. He looked at his wife. She shook her head and sighed as so many pastor's wives do when being used for sermons.
I licked my lips, laughing along with the congregation at the joke.
I can get through this.
Tommy would have whispered in my ear, giving me biting commentary through the service, but the seat next to me was empty. I bowed my head through the benediction, averting my eyes from the empty space.
Suddenly, the band was playing a peppy instrumental. Bodies shifted and conversation started as the large screens flicked through community announcements. A few older women came up to my parents, shaking their hands and wearing pitying expressions.
“So sorry for your loss.”
“I just can't believe it!”
“Do you need anything?”
Before they could latch onto me, I raced out to the sheltered courtyard between the old stone church and the new building. A fountain bubbled in the center, and my muscles released. At the courtyard's edge, the concrete benches were blissfully empty. I claimed one behind a column.
“Gwen?”
I jumped, my head snapping up.
“Erin!” Blinking, I relaxed.
“Sorry!” cried Erin, wincing as she sat beside me. “Didn't mean to startle you!”
“I know – I just didn't expect anyone to come out here,” I shrugged and looked around the empty space. Most people opted for the climate-controlled fellowship hall. There was coffee and sweets.
“Yeah, but I knew you'd be here,” Erin shrugged and I nodded. The quiet stretched.
“Are you in town for the memorial?” she ventured. I swallowed. Why did she ask that? What else would I be doing here?!
“Of course,” I rasped. Erin blinked.
“Yeah, of course.”
She sagged as I studied the stamped concrete underfoot. A few ants wandered around, seeking. Idly, I wondered how far they'd come and if they were looking for food or water.
Erin cleared her throat, and I turned.
“Are you going to the church picnic tonight?”
“I think so,” I frowned. “Don't I have to?”
“You don't have to do anything.” Erin studied me for a minute and I smiled, my eyes glittering.
“I had to leave school for this – there's a lot I have to do.” I stood up and walked to the fountain. Leaves and petals jostled, dancing as water pushed them into floating choreography. Watching it, I could almost forget why I was home. I could almost forget Tommy. Almost.
“I loved him too you know,” croaked Erin.
I spun on my heel.
“Tommy. I loved him too.”
My brows rose.
“Don't be mad that I never said anything – but I mean, it was Tommy!” she laughed nervously. “The football star and homecoming king! Kind and popular – who didn't love Tommy?!” Her breath shuddered and I stilled.
“Did you ever -”
“No.” Erin sliced the air. “No, I don't think he really – we were just friends.” She flashed a tight smile and shook her head. I watched her for a minute.
“I don't think I'll go.”
“Huh?”
“I think I won't go to the church picnic,” I declared, crossing my arms. Erin's brows rose.
“Oh?”
“I'm going into town. I need to get away from everything for a little bit.” Erin's eyes tightened and she nodded.
“I don't blame you.”