The Spinetinglers Anthology 2010
Page 20
He relaxed his grip and fought back tears. If only it was all over and morning would come. The tension in his body dissolved into weariness. How long has it been? Maybe he won’t come. He isn’t real. Sleep settled on his eyelids and the soft barrier into dream opened up before him.
Can’t get me if I’m asleep.
Warmth radiated from inside him as he began to fall asleep and his thoughts became liquid. He saw Arthur and Raymond running around in circles and all he heard was the lines of a song.
He sees you when you’re sleeping.
The whipping sound of curtains in the breeze.
He knows when you’re awake.
The sulphur smell of burnt matches. The noise of a heavy bulk dragging itself across the bedroom floor. Wet, hoarse breaths muttering obscenities. Something dropped onto the carpet with a thump, like a heavy, bulging sack.
Ben heard the high-pitched metal-song of a blade being drawn.
I’m asleep. He can’t get me if I’m asleep. He can’t get me if I’m asleep.
A Christmas Kiss
By Damon Lord
It was perhaps the worst part of his job, working the graveyard shift on Christmas Eve. So many cheery people, pumped full of excitement, and here he was, bringing tidings of comfort, but no joy. And so many sad, terribly sad, misunderstandings.
He walked openly past the nurses’ station; they were wrapping a few little presents for those small, dear ones in their care, but they did not see him as he passed. They never did. He was a regular visitor to this hospital, to this ward in fact, but he never even received a ‘hello’ from the staff. It had upset him when he had first taken on the job to be ignored so, he expected some acknowledgement, but now he was happy in his solitude; he could get on with his Great Work, with no fear of any interruption.
He stood by their battered old CD player and watched them. Lonely this Christmas played at a low volume, just low enough not to bother patients. It suddenly kept jumping on the line “Lonely without you”. The nurses looked up and glared at the CD player, but they were too busy to attend to it. At last one of the nurses stood to go to attend the jumping CD. Before the nurse could move, he placed his long, pale, thin fingers on top of the CD player, gave it an indiscernible knock, and it went on playing as normal. The nurse went back to the presents.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, and moved on.
The girl was asleep in a side room, off the main ward itself. It was dark in there as he entered. There was a nominal semblance of decorations intended to cheer her up, but the real illumination came from the banks of machines she was connected to. They flashed their green and red lights with such regularity that fairy lights were not needed. He moved into the room and sat down by her bedside. Gently he took her hand and held it.
She had such a pallid hand, her skin was paper-thin, and the back of her hand was covered in marks from where nurses and doctors had jabbed various needles and cannulas into her veins and arteries so frequently in her treatment. She had clearly lost a lot of weight in her hospital bed; she looked so small for her age. Her hair had been beautiful once, such luscious flowing yellow locks, sweet curls, neatly framing her radiant smiling face. Now all that was left was a handful of lonely strands, and a pink ribbon in a pitiful attempt to try to retain some prettiness and dignity in the child. She no longer smiled, but she never cried.
She stirred.
It is almost time, he thought. She will wake soon, and it will be time.
He stood up.
She blinked, moved slightly then opened her eyes. Her breathing was shallow. He watched her frail form struggling for each breath. She closed her eyes again.
A little while longer, perhaps?
He looked at the steady ticking clock on the wall. Second after second ticked by. It was nearly midnight.
Then she woke fully. She did not shift from her position, she did not have the energy, but carefully looked around the room, taking in all she could in the dark. Then she saw him.
At this stage, he would only appear as a dark shape. In the darkness of the room, she would see someone there, but would not be able to make out who it was.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello,” he replied. She was almost ready, so it was only polite to get things underway. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “My name’s Jessica.” Her voice seemed bright, but any real glow in her words was smothered by the pain she laboured under.
“I know,” he said. “You’ve been a good girl this year, haven’t you?”
“I’ve tried,” she said. “Sometimes I shout when they put needles in me, but Mummy tells me to be brave.” She closed her eyes again; it had taken a lot of effort for her to talk so much. He sat watching her, patient. He had time. He had nothing but time. At last she opened her eyes again and looked over at him. To her, he would be still just a silhouette, framed by the light in the hallway. A figure in black. He did not want to scare her, not at this important moment. Did she know who he was?
It was as if she had read his mind when she drew up her strength to speak again. “Are you Father Christmas?”
“No. I’m sorry,” he said, and he truly was sorry. “Santa won’t be visiting you tonight.”
She sighed, but did not speak. Sometimes when he told children that, they kicked up a fuss. But this girl, Jessica, had been through so much physically. News such as Santa not coming was just yet something more for her to endure.
“Does it hurt?” He asked. “You can be honest with me.”
She closed her eyes and hot tears welled up. “Yes.”
“I want to give you a chance to be free,” he said. “You can come with me, we can go away, I can take you now and you’ll not feel such terrible things again. We can see such lovely things together, and you’ll feel fine again. Do you understand?”
She drew a big breath. “Will Mummy and Daddy be going as well?”
“No,” I said. “They can’t come. Not for a while yet.”
She was gathering her strength, fighting the fatigue that was brought through talking to me. “Can I bring my dolly?”
“No. You can’t bring anything with you. Nothing. Just you. And me. And we’ll go tonight.”
Seconds ticked by as she fought for the power of speech again. He frail form had wasted away, destroyed by her illness, but still she clung on to life with all the power in her little body.
Until now.
“All right,” she said. “I know you. You’re the death man like in Bill and Ted.” Bill and Ted? He thought. What was an innocent young kid such as her doing, watching that? He wanted to laugh but did not. She had recognised him, that was the important thing, and the solemnity of her decision was paramount.
“Please take away all the bad stuff in me. Let me go with you.” She sank back into her pillows and closed her eyes for the last time. She was still, only her chest moving slightly, her breathing became shallower, each breath becoming slower, pausing longer and longer between each aspiration.
Outside, somewhere in the distance, a clock tower on a church was starting to chime midnight. He leaned forward over her, holding her hand with his, seeking to deliver a final kiss. The bells rung on in the crisp, frozen darkness outside. He touched her gently on the forehead with his cold lips.
At once, he stiffened, a foul sense emanating from his lips throughout his body. His entire form writhed with all the woe and suffering her body had once contained
nausea Pain
Ice
fire sharp
dull pounding
cutting
deep inside
hard punch thrust endless
rot decay
make it stop
make it stop
make it STOP!
The chiming of midnight suddenly ceased.
And then the pain was gone. The deed was done. He still held Jessica’s hand, but she was different, a changed girl. She sat up and shuffled over to the edge of the bed. “Hell
o,” he said once more. “How do you feel?”
She smiled brightly. She was absentmindedly she brushed her thick long golden hair with her free hand. “I’m fine.”
“I’m happy for you,” he said. “Shall we go now?”
“Yes.” She bounced down off the bed, skipping around the room. “Can I ask you something?”
They always had questions. He had considered once, when he had been collecting an agnostic, that he should put time into drawing up a FAQ sheet to hand out whenever he arrived, but thought again. It would be in definite bad taste.
“Will I see Mummy and Daddy again?”
The perennial favourite query. If it wasn’t a parent they would miss, it would be a spouse, or a child, a lover or a friend. Never a dog or a cat. And always the same answer. “You can see them whenever you like. But they won’t usually be able to see you.”
“Okay.” She was quiet for a moment. He led her in silence over to the window. She looked back at the bed, at the now still cadaver. It had held her captive for so long in bonds of stinking torment. “Who’s that girl?”
“Oh, don’t worry about her,” he said. “She was unwell for a long time, but she’s going to be fine now.”
She glanced at the clock high on the wall. It had stopped. “Daddy taught me to tell the time,” she said. “It’s after twelve in the night-time. That means it’s a new day. It’s Christmas Day.” She grinned, looked at her new companion, and said: “Merry Christmas, Death.”
“Thank you,” he said. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”
He had other souls to collect tonight, but never mind; they could wait. “I’ve had an idea,” he said. “Before we go where I need to take you, let’s go on over to the zoo and look at the reindeer. Just remember they can’t see you.”
Together they stepped right through the window-pane, and beyond, not noticing what was going on behind them. The clock began again and the nurses abandoned their wrapping of presents, as the machines and monitors beeped, mourned and wailed Jessica’s passing.
Special Thanks
Spinetinglers would like to thank everyone who made the 2010 Spinetinglers Anthology possible.
The Spinetinglers Anthology 2011 – coming to Kindle November 2011!