She smiles sadly and says we don't have long.
My gaze falls on the grave and I know we have to leave.
Andy hugs the gravestone and my heart breaks.
They turn to look at the grave together, and drop their own roses into it. The thuds are loud and this time I can smell the fresh blooms.
Andy speaks as he crushes his father's hand in his own, and he sounds so grown up.
“Mummy I love you so much. I’ll look after Daddy. I miss you to the moon and back.”
Henry stares down into the grave and another tear rolls down his cheek. “Maggie, I never stopped loving you. I wish we could’ve worked things out in time. I'll miss you forever.”
My heart bursts, I know they loved her more than anything. I'm so sad and I don't want to leave.
My mother clears her throat and I know it's time. Things seem to freeze as I kiss Andy and Henry, ruffling ones hair and stroking the others face.
“I'll see you soon.” I whisper as I turn away, fulfilled with their love.
The last thing I see is Andy and Henry walking away together to the waiting car, as a beam of sunlight bursts through the trees above.
My mother takes my hand and smiles at me. “Are you ready Maggie?”
I smile back. “Yes.”
Raven’s Hill: The Ritual
By Lynn Mullican
GISELA
Nathaniel loved me at one time, I know he did, but in the last few days of my life, it seemed otherwise. It started October 13, 1891 when I awoke to him throwing a tantrum in the middle of the night. His scream filled my ears, awakening me from a dead sleep, startling me. I scrambled to sit up, almost falling out of the bed. My heart raced, my eyes wide with fright, as I struggled to see him in the darkness.
“Nate? Nate?”
He wouldn’t stop screaming. As my vision cleared, I saw him clawing at the air, fighting with something invisible. I was sure he had a nightmare, as there was nothing there. The wild-eyed look in his eyes forced me to reach out to wake him.
“Nate!” I screamed, touching him.
He lashed out at me, his nails gouging my breasts. I gasped, winded, shocked he would attack me. This was not normal for him, for us. I glanced down. Blood oozed down my breasts, staining the white gown I wore.
I bolted from the bed, aware he was not yet awake. From the opposite side of the room, I screamed at him to stop. His voice echoed within my ears, filling my head, my ears ringing from the constant shriek.
“Nate! Please, stop!” I screamed, throwing a book at him.
That was when he awoke, completely oblivious to what had just happened. A look of confusion settled on his face, his brows furrowed in, his gaze narrowed in on me, the muscles in his face relaxed. It was as if the nightmare had never happened.
“Wh...wh...what are you doing over there, Gisela?” he stammered.
“I’m over here because you attacked me,” I said, turning on the light.
His eyes widened. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?” He climbed out of bed, his eyes never leaving my chest. “Gisela, why are you bleeding?”
I stepped back, unsure if he would flip out again.
“Nate, don’t you remember anything? Anything at all?”
“No, I don’t.” He fell to his knees before me, taking my hands in his. “Why? How?” Then he saw the blood on his hands. “Dear God, what happened? Tell me what happened?”
“Do you not remember your nightmare?” I asked.
“Nightmare?” he asked, trembling. “No, I don’t.”
His eyes fell upon the gown, the one his mother had given me before she passed away.
“Oh, my dear. I am sorry to ruin your nightgown...”
Tears filled my eyes as I gazed down upon my breast.
He pulled at the fabric and tried to wipe away the blood, instead it stained the fabric.
What about my chest? I was sure I would have scars.
“I’m so sorry. Gisela, I didn’t mean to...,” he cried, tears streaking his face.
He touched my wound but the pressure was too much. Pain settled within it. I backed away, glancing in the full-length mirror. He was right, my gown was ruined. I stripped it off, but not before catching sight of someone sitting at the head of the bed. What the hell...?
My heart raced. Who was that? I spun around to stare at an empty bed. Where did he go? I glanced around. Nate followed my gaze. He, too, looked at the bed, his eyes narrowing in, a look of confusion on his face.
“What is it, my dear?”
I glanced around. “I thought I saw someone sitting on the bed.”
“There’s nobody here, but us, otherwise I would have seen them.”
He was right. Maybe I was losing my mind, after all, his nightmare not only affected him, but me. Glancing around, I entered the bathroom, turning on the light. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Behind me, Nate stood in the doorway.
“Are you alright, love?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but wonder who was alright, me or him? After his nightmare, he should have been freaking out, not me.
THE NEXT NIGHT AFTER my women’s bible study, my friend, Dorothy and I went to the local store for a few items before going home. Nate sat by the fire, reading the bible, unmoving, as I put fruit in the wicker basket, watching him.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Dorothy wanted to picked up some items from the store.”
“That’s fine.” He flipped the page.
Silence filled the air, except for the occasional crack and pop of the fire. Then, it sparked, the flames growing. Nate didn’t move. Again, he flipped the page.
I glanced at the fire. It reached out, as if extending its fiery red flames toward him.
It grew bigger, yet, it didn’t seem to grow up, it grew out. Was that possible? It was as if the fire was reaching out toward him, as if it wanted to touch him.
“Nate, the fire?”
He glanced up, jumping from his seat.
“Oh, shit!” The bible fell from his hand as he grabbed the poker and pushing the wood back. It cracked and popped again, the flame dying down.
As he tended to the fire, I picked up his leather-bound bible, opening it. He snatched it from my hands, a wild-eyed look in his eye.
I recoiled from him. Without a word, he turned away, and leaned against the wall, peering back at me.
Something was wrong. Had something happened during the men’s bible study? Had somebody said something about the wounds on my bosom? This was a small western town, so word got around quick whenever something good or bad happened.
Then, his gaze fell upon my chest, his lip quivering.
Was he going to cry? What the hell was wrong with him? He had been acting strange ever since his nightmare. Instead of confronting him, I turned away and headed for the kitchen.
“I’m not hungry.” His voice echoed throughout the room. “Randall’s wife fed us.”
“Elizabeth?” I asked, turning toward him. “I thought Elizabeth met with her mother on Wednesday nights?”
Our eyes met.
“Not tonight, her mother is ill.”
The fire flickered, dimming, outlining the shape of his body. I took a step toward him.
“Then, why is she not with her mother, taking care of her?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Randall didn’t say and neither did she.” He poked the fire, sending sparks in the air. “Does it matter?”
Elizabeth and her mother were close, so close that if her mother had fallen ill, Elizabeth would have moved in with her to take care of her. So, this struck me odd.
Grabbing an apple, I turned toward the bedroom, snatching my bible off of the kitchen table.
“No, I guess not.”
I turned on the light and took a seat on the chaise in the corner, opening my book to read, unable to focus on what was written. My mind was still on Nate and his odd behavior.
I couldn’t understand...
Then, he walked into the room, bible still in hand.
“Come sit beside me, love. I’d like to share a passage with you.”
I ignored him, pretending to be reading. A loud bang pulled me from the book. Nate’s fist hit the wall, not once, but twice. My jaw dropped. He had never expressed anger by punching things.
“Gisela, I’m talking to you!”
“Fine, I’ll join you,” I muttered.
“Speak louder! I didn’t hear you!” He put his hand to his ear, taunting me.
My mouth remained shut as I stood, and passed him, walking into the living room, fearful, he might express his anger in another manner.
“Just so you know, I’m next in line to hold the bible studies here, so the men will be over more often.”
“That’s fine,” I said, sitting down. Outside, a horse whinnied.
Nate glanced at the window. “Now, who in the hell would be here at this time?”
Heavy bootsteps moved across the porch. Before there was a knock, Nate opened the door.
The Sheriff stood outside, his cowboy hat and heavy brown dust jacket on, his long blonde hair pulled back into a braid. He held his hand up, ready to knock, a serious look on his face, his eyes intent on Nate.
I stood. His eyes shifted toward me, and with a kind look, he tipped his hat toward me.
“Ma’am.” His attention turned back to Nate. “Nate.”
“Sheriff...” Nate raised an eyebrow. “What brings you to our home this late at night? It’s a little late for donations,” he chuckled.
The Sheriff pulled his lips back into a grim line. “I’m not here for socializing, Nate. I’m here on business.” He put his hands on his hips. “When’s the last time you seen Randall and Elizabeth Horton?”
Randall and Elizabeth? My ears perked up.
“Why, I just saw the two of them, oh, about three hours ago. Why? Is something wrong?”
“Did they seem to you, like were they arguing or fighting?”
“No, not at all. Why do you...?”
The Sheriff peeked over at me. “Ma’am, what about you? When’s the last time you seen them? How did they seem to you?”
I approached the door. The Sheriff lowered his eyes to gaze upon my chest. Embarrassed, I put my hand over my soon to be scars.
“I think I seen Elizabeth a few days ago. As for Randall, I haven’t seen much of him.”
“Do you recall how she was acting?”
I thought about her. Now, that he mentioned it, she did seem a little more closed off, anti-social as I would call it.
“Well, now...”
Nate interrupted, “Sheriff, what does this have to do with us? They both seemed to be fine when I was there.”
The Sheriff straightened up and glared at Nate, his hand moving to his gun.
Sternly, he said, “Nate, I don’t appreciate you interrupting your wife when she’s answering my question.”
He jabbed Nate in the chest, causing Nate to straighten up and become defensive. Anger filled his eyes.
“Now look here...”
“She may be your wife and all, but when I’m here on official business, I expect an answer and I expect that answer to be complete. Now, seeing I have to follow up on a missing person’s case with another bystander, I’ll be on my way. I’ll be back, though, so we can finish up this meeting,” he sneered. He half turned, straightening his cowboy hat.
Nate’s face was red with anger, his eyes narrowing in on him.
I ran up and pushed past Nate. “Sheriff, wait! What happened? Who’s missing?”
My heart raced. Then, the Sheriff looked at me.
“Miss. Elizabeth Horton.”
I gasped, my breath taken away. “Oh, my God, what happened? Did Randall say...”
Nate pulled me back in the house. “Let the man do his job. I’m sure Elizabeth is fine.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” The Sherriff climbed onto his black horse. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Nate.”
Nate shut the door and turned toward me. “Stay away from that man. I’ve told you before I don’t trust him.”
Mouth agape, I stared at him. “But, he’s the Sheriff.”
“And, the pastor’s the pastor? I don’t trust anyone.”
What? Spoken from the man who studied the bible and preached the word of God. What in God’s name was happening to my husband?
NATHANIEL
I tossed and turned in bed, Randall’s words still in my head. “And, I give unto thee Lord, my sweet Elizabeth, thy divine love, thy divine gift, thy divine sacrifice.”
The image of Randall’s love, the sweet and lovable Elizabeth, a woman of such beauty and grace, now given to the Dark Lord himself, Satan. Her life taken by her own husband, Randall, while we, the men of the Dark Church gazed upon her bare and magnificent body, only to be replaced with the image of her death. First life, then death. Sacrifice, we must, so we shall bring the Dark Lord forward to bless us with his love and eternal devotion.
After her death, Randall blessed me with the upside-down cross, drawing it on my chest with Elizabeth’s blood. Then, he raised his arms.
“Thirteen sacrifices shall be given. Twelve have been sacrificed, now only Miss. Gisela remains. Thirteen will complete the circle to bring forth our Dark Lord. Nate, please stand.”
I stood, dressed in my black robe, my chest still exposed with the crimson cross.
“Yes, Father Randall.”
Before me, Father Randall stood in his dark robe, a red rope wrapped around his waist, the bloody dagger still in hand.
“I pass this dagger unto you to complete the circle, to sacrifice Miss. Gisela to our Dark Lord. Do you accept?”
“Yes, Father Randall.”
I knelt before him and accepted the dagger, the blood dripping down my hand and onto the floor.
I awoke in a panic, flinging the blankets off of me, the image of Elizabeth’s sacrifice still vivid in my head.
Gisela awoke, screaming, rolling and falling out of bed. I sat up, rubbing my eyes to rid myself of the woman’s death. I needed some alone time, to bring myself up to doing this, to sacrificing Gisela. Twelve women were dead, now it was Gisela’s turn.
I stood, trembling, seeking guidance, as I opened the door. I glanced back. Gisela peeked over the side of the bed, her eyes wide with fright. Then, I left the room, shutting the door behind me, heading to the living room, to the only place I knew I could be alone—the wine cellar. Gisela never went down there. She was afraid of it, afraid that something would be lurking in the darkness, ready to kill her. Little did she know, it wasn’t her imagination.
I threw the rug aside, and opened the cellar door. With bible in hand, I shut the door behind me. Once I was at the table, I set the book down and proceeded to light the candle. Beside me, the bible opened. I stopped, striker in hand, and stared at it. I glanced around at the darkness but no one was there. This was a first. I had never had anything strange happen before, especially in my own home.
“Hello?”
Had we contacted Satan? Was he in the room? I was sure we had to have thirteen sacrifices first. Maybe, twelve was all it took.
No one answered.
“Hello?” I said a little louder, my heart racing.
A gruff male voice answered, “Shush.”
I froze. I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Who’s there?”
Was it...?
Something brushed past me. It sent a chill down my spine.
“Sat...”
It stood behind me. I reached out and grabbed the candle, spinning around. A gentle breeze caught the flame and burned it out, leaving me to stand in the darkness with...
“Asmodeus,” it whispered.
The light flickered on, exposing the dark-haired man’s face for a brief second. Then the light went out. The man moved around me, his breath on me.
“Who are you exactly? Are you...?”
“My, are you antsy...just what is it you wish to accomplish with the Dark Lord? What do you seek? Why sacrifice Miss.
Gisela? She’s a beauty, is she not?”
My heart pounded. “Yes, she is. We seek...”
“I did not ask what your cult seeks, I asked what you seek.”
“I, uh...we...”
The man’s horned face appeared in mine, his breath rancid.
I dropped the candle, the brass holder clanking off of the floor. It echoed within the room.
“Answer the question.”
I stammered over my words. “I...uh, want eternal life, eternal devotion, and eternal love.”
“Can your wife not give you that?”
Blinking, I thought about it. How the hell...only the Dark Lord could give me that, not Gisela?
“I’ve heard your answer, and so shall it be. I will be watching, waiting for your sacrifice. The Dark Lord awaits, as well.”
Suddenly, I felt alone. Silence filled the room.
“Hello?”
No answer.
GISELA
Days had passed and there was no sign of Elizabeth. The locals were talking. Stories of her having another lover and running away went rampant. But, how had she gone missing within the time Nate and Randall met for bible study? Had Nate been right? Had she gone to aid her mother and in passing went missing? I was baffled.
As I shuffled to get out of the way of an oncoming carriage, I ran into a dark-haired man, a stranger to say the least. His shoulder butted up against mine, knocking the items I bought from the store out of my hands.
“Excuse me, ma’am, I apologize.”
He bent over, as I too, knelt down to pick them up. Our eyes met. They were of the finest green, mesmerizing, inviting. I was captivated by them. Then, a horse whinnied, distracting me. I looked up to see the Sheriff on his horse.
“Do you need some help, Miss. Gisela?”
The horse whinnied again, rearing up, distraught for some odd reason. It wouldn’t settle down.
“Whoa!” The horse came down hard, jostling the Sheriff. He tightened his hold on the reigns, trying to lead her. “Whoa!”
The stranger stood, his gaze on the horse. He touched her face, calming her, settling her down some.
“I have a way with animals,” he said, peering up at the Sheriff.
“Do you now? And, just who in the hell are you? I haven’t seen you around these parts.”
Love from the Other Side Page 15
