by Mark Lumby
This ends. It ends now.
I slide down the window and peer over the sea. The moon is high and shines a welcome light onto its twin that swims in the water. The stars flicker. I can feel the suns heat dying on my face, cooled by a breeze that speaks soft words. I’m sure I can hear Moms voice through the wind. It’s her tone, but I can’t make out what she's saying. It’s hypnotic and comforting, and my eyes begin to lower.
I’m exhausted.
***
I park at the side of the house and I climb out of the car. The roads are clear. There is a slight smokey smell in the air - I guess the remnants of a dying camp fire from Jacobs wood - but its still and humid. I check my watch. It reads 4:27 am.
I walk around to the front of the house, slowly, and running over in my head what I was going to do once I knocked on the door. The windows had been fixed, no smashed glass, the lawn had been freshly trimmed, and a pile of grass had been swept into a small mound. There was a gas lamp that swung above the rocking chair, and dead moths beneath where they had flown into the light.
I approached the house with caution. I knew he would be here; I would be expected. So, he would be waiting for me. I studied the red door, stepped back, let out a deep sigh, and rattled my fist against the wood. “It me!” I yelled, turning around to make sure know one had heard. “You know I’m coming! So don’t play games!” I wasn’t going to let myself in, not this time. Although, the damage may well have been done.
I heard faint footsteps from inside, a door close, and then silence. As I was about to rattle the door again, it opened and there was Carl Winters. He was cheerful, but I could detect a sinister emotion behind this defensive face. He was happy to see me. I knew that. Of course he was; he needed me.
He stepped aside, and after a few seconds of regret and a doubt that never left, I entered the house for what I hoped was my very last time. I followed him into the kitchen. The red door closed by itself. Tick Tock Tick Tock! I turned to the clock on the wall. The hourglass was two-thirds full.
Carl said, “not long now, Daniel. It’s filling nicely, don't you think?” He sounded very proud as he pointed gleefully at the ornament.
I held it in both hands. “Why is it filling up so fast?”
He chuckled, and shrugged. “It seems to do that; its quite fast when you’re dreaming for some reason, but I’m not complaining. Not long now.”
“I’m not dreaming,” I told him.
“Oh, but you are.”
I looked at the hourglass, then at Carl. I flipped it upside down, but the said still fell. “I’m dreaming,” I said.
“Yes…I know. That’s what I just said. Isn’t it nice that I’m thought of even in your dreams. You must love me, Daniel,” he jeered.
I still had hold of the hourglass, so I threw it at him, jolting his head back and cracking his skull like a china doll.
But it caused no damage to him. He picked up the hourglass; it was almost full. He grinned at me and whispered, “You best wake up, Daniel. Not long now.” And he laughed, and continued to laugh; the crack in his head suddenly started bleeding. He kept laughing. The blood cleansed his face and stained his shirt, and still he laughed.
I cracked my head on the window when I awoke in the car, angry with myself for closing my eyes. I struck out at the steering wheel until the part that should have held the air bag cracked. I stopped and sat in the quietness that early morning brings. It brought about calmness in most people. But I couldn’t feel calm right now. I felt anger. I wanted to kill him!
I started the car and pulled away.
***
I wasn’t going to turn up unprepared, and was reluctant to buy a fire arm because for all I knew, I was a wanted man. My name must be in the system. But I did need a gun.
I was outside Carl Winters house at 2 in the morning the very next day. I had my gun. I had asked a few people that looked as though they did stuff like that: sell drugs, guns, contraband cigarettes. I was told it was a .45 pistol, but as long as it put a hole in someones head, I didn’t care. It was hidden in the glove compartment, between the cd’s. I shut off the engine and stayed in the car for a further thirty minutes.
When it was time - and I don’t believe there ever was a time - I stepped out of the car, removed the pistol from the compartment and stored it behind my belt buckle. I then traced the steps I had taken in the dream. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I rattled the gruesome knocker. Again, the house was silent.
“Come on, you know I’m here,” I mumbled. I rattled the knocker again. I was reluctant to let myself in after what he had told me about free will, but it appeared I had little choice. I twisted the handle and the door clicked open. It was dark inside when I stepped in. I kept the door open, checking the stairs to make sure there was no surprises. I followed the hypnotic sound of the clock.
Tick Tock Tick Tock.
I entered the kitchen, flicking the light switch. The room was empty. The hourglass beneath the clock had only a few grains left. I knocked it of the shelf, smashing the glass and smothering the stone floor with the sand. “You’ll never have me, old man.”
“Don’t open doors you can’t close, Daniel,” Carl said. He was standing in the doorway behind me, holding onto the handle of the basement door.
“Did I have a choice? I mean, really?”
“Not really,” he confirmed. “So, what is it? I stopped the Pacemaker from killing you. The way I see it, you owe me.” He chuckled, rubbing his short grey stubble. “What is it going to be? Are you going to pledge your duty to me, or are you going to use that pistol of yours. I truly hope the safety is on, Daniel. It would be a shame for it to end so tragically,” he sneered.
I didn’t confirm I had a gun, but he knew I did. I said, “I’m giving in to you. I know I can’t run. I know I can’t hide.”
“No, you can’t. You can stand with me, or you can die.” He shrugged. “It’s not a hard choice to make. Protecting the mirror has its advantages; use its power, embrace it, as I did. But, you can still leave this house, not for long, and not by the front door. You never leave through the front door, or any door. You live as a ghost.”
“A ghost?”
He nodded. “You will be alive.”
“Okay…So, what now?” I asked.
“Now, you follow me.” He opened the basement door and pulled on the light chord. He looked over his shoulder. “I hope you’re ready, Daniel. This is no game.”
I followed him, holding onto the pistol through my jacket. I was ready.
“And don’t forget to bring the hourglass!” he told me.
“The glass broke,” I said.
“No, it isn’t.”
I went back into the kitchen. The hourglass was on its shelf. I reached out and took it in both hands. The grains were falling slowly. It was nearly full.
Carl hadn’t waited; he was already in the basement.
I took my time, though. I cautiously descended the stairs. When I reached the bottom, Carl was in the hole unwrapping the mirror.
He looked up and said, “The hourglass! Give it to me!” His voice was husky and irritable.
I let it go like it was a football.
He fumbled to catch the glass. “Be careful, lad! I fixed it once; I might not be able to do it again.”
I said, “I’m sorry.” But I wasn’t. I wanted it broke. And I think Carl knew that, too. I wonder if he knew everything.
He stared at me cruelly. “Its fine…everything’s fine,” and shook his head. He looked back at the mirror and uncovered the last section. “Come on down, Daniel. Don’t just stand there. The sooner we do this, the better it will be.”
I climbed down ladder, jumping the last couple of rungs. I adjusted the pistol behind my belt buckle, but left it there. Carl didn’t see me. He turned around and took my hand.
“Lower,” he said, beckoning me down with his hands.
I fell to my knees. I watched him, not what he was doing, but watched him. I hated him. I t
ouched the pistol. I wanted to take it out and use it. I had to dispose of all the anger to remove my hand from the pistol.
He swept away dirt from the frame with a handkerchief he had pulled from his back pocket. He withdrew himself and marvelled at the relic. “The mirror is a very powerful tool. It can control you; it can absorb you; it will if you allow it to. Don’t!” he said. His eyes looked sunken more than usual. “Small doses, absolutely fine. But it will change you; the man you are will be no more. And it will make clear to you your dedications to guard the mirror. Allow it to break and you will open the gates of hell. Stay with it; protect it with your life, but use it to gain back your life in some other way, like I did.” He reached for my hand and squeezed, then took the other and did the same. “This is no game, Daniel. You will take my place; you will be here to protect it, as I once did.”
“And what comes of you?” I wondered.
“Everyone retires, son. Your day will come, too. Just make sure you have a replacement, someone who appreciates what it is we do.” He smiled. “I’m proud of you, Daniel. You’ve made the right choice; the sensible choice.”
I put in, “the only choice?” My tone was low and bitter. I briefly looked at the mirror, although I could see nothing.
“Free will, Daniel,” I was reminded. “You had a choice; you always had, so if there is blame to place upon someone, don’t put that on me!”
The silence was awkward. Carl looked into my eyes as though he was invading my soul, trying to see what was hiding beneath flesh and blood. He let go of my hands and caressed his thumb over the ornate frame of the mirror.
Should I pull out the pistol while he was distracted, aim it at Carls head and squeeze the trigger? If I don’t kill him now, it may be too late. I will need to stare into the mirror to convince him. I cannot allow myself to look. I cannot. I pressed my palm against the pistol. Slowly, I began lifting my jacket and reached under to touch the bare metal.
He sighed and said, “I will miss you.” There was a touch of rare emotion in his voice. Before I could remove the gun, though, he turned to me and said, “I told them to leave, you know, your Mother and your Grandma. I regret that I was cruel in doing so. A bastard, in fact, but I had to get them out of this house, get them safe. I told them things, things that weren't true anyway, bad things that I’d done. They were lies, all lies just to make them leave.”
I judged him, and asked with scepticism, “why didn’t you follow them?”
He took time to think. “Because…I was needed here,” he clarified. He turned his attention back to the mirror. “And besides, I’d already had a taste of it. It was too late for me, but not for them. You do believe me, don't you?” But as he confessed this, he didn’t look at me. “Its important that you do. I don’t want you to think I’m a bad man. The things I have done, the things I do, I do for a reason. I don’t want you to hate me.”
But I did hate him. No words would change that. Whether he was telling the truth or not, there was something not quite right about him, about what he said. It was deeper. And although there was probably a good guy trying to escape, trying hard to convince the world that he was still here, I feared that whatever was in this house had already taken him. He was a carcass filled with evil, overflowing, so what was left was deceit and lies. I wondered if he was aware of what he had become; was this an act to soften my heart. And then it made me think whether he was in control more than I thought. Was he conniving, and had learnt to take advantage and control the entity in this house?
I thought about pulling the pistol, get it over with before he said another word. He did sound sincere, but I was far from convinced. I readied my hand over the weapon. But before I could take grip of the handle, Carl punched the ground with a muted thud.
He said, “Anyway, Daniel. Lets get this over with.” And he stood, brushed the dirt off his trousers, and stood away from the mirror. He invited me to take his position, which hesitantly, I did.
I reminded myself of the pistol; I felt I was getting too close to stick to the plan, and the chance to use it was slipping away. I regarded the mirror with an awkwardness I feared Carl would notice. Then over my shoulder, I glanced at him. “What should I do?” I asked.
He grinned and whispered, “Just look. Get on you knees and explore its soul. I don't know what you’ll see; I suppose its different for everyone.”
“What did you see?” I asked him.
“You, Daniel,” he revealed. “I saw you.”
“You knew it would be this way? End like this?” With this announcement I was fill with a sense of failure. If he knew, then he would know everything. He would know why I’m here, that I was going to kill him.
“I knew that you would proceed me, but that it all.”
I swallowed hard and sighed into my chest. “But how does what you see effect the protection of the mirror.”
“It doesn’t,” he spat. His voice was annoyed as though I had offended him. “It’s the vision, Daniel, the fact that the mirror has accepted you and has opened up to you,” he expressed with his arms. “It just means that the power it holds has been unlocked to you!”
“I see.” I looked down at the mirror and fell to my knees, and I stared into its abyss. I touched the cold surface; it was way too cold to hold any contact. The skin from my fingers tips peeled away as I pulled them off the mirror. I grimaced, sucking the pain through my teeth. “Its like damn ice!” I grimaced.
Carl didn’t reply.
I inspected my skin, but there was no damage. I still felt the tingling in my fingers. I said, “So, I just stare into it, right?”
The mirror must be destroyed.
Will he weaken to its power?
Can Daniel be trusted?
I removed the pistol from my belt and aimed it at the mirror. I stood, and holding the pistol in both hands, extended both arms towards the mirror. My hands shook and I felt as though I would drop the pistol to the ground. But I swiftly turned and pointed the gun at Carl. Nervous and my voice unsteady, I said, “It needs to be destroyed!”
Carl stared at the gun with no surprise. In fact, he seemed slightly amused. He said, “And I suppose Father Thomas told you that?”
“He did!” I nodded. “And he’s right. It needs to end.”
“And is that what you truly believe?” he asked, taking a cautious step closer. He held out his hand.
I raised the gun higher, my actions telling him to back the hell off.
He raised his eyebrows, although any surprise on his face was redundant. “And are you actually going to use that?” he inquired.
I nodded, nervous, but certain that I was going to shoot. I could feel the side of my head getting warm, the other side cold and numb, and my hands trembled even more.
“You see, I’m only a frail old man, Daniel. I’m sure if you really wanted to break the mirror, then all you needed to do was to pick up any rock lying around and smash it with it. The same goes for me.” He indicated the rear of his head. “Strike it right here; I’d go down quite easily. I don’t suppose I’d put up much of a fight, either.”
“I doubt that,” I said, knowing that he was stronger that he looked. “I’ve felt your strength.”
Carl shrugged, then grinned. “No, I think the gun was for you. You’ve given up, Daniel, and can’t take it anymore. So, you’re going to aim the gun at your head and blow out your brains.”
I laughed, shaking my head in denial. “You’re crazy. I’ll tell you how it’s going to be. I’m going to blow your brains out, then destroy the mirror. Or destroy the mirror, then kill you! Either way, doesn’t matter.” But I could feel something was happening. My head was becoming hot and cold. The blood flowing through the veins in my arms felt painful; they were burning.
He drew a target cross on his forehead. “Go on then. Do it. I dare you,” he said, and let out a pff! “But, this is how it started, isn’t it. A dare! Just one stupid game for a stupid little boy!”
I grab the gun tighter with both h
ands, finger over the trigger. I tried to control the pain creeping through my blood like an infection cursing my skin with razor blades.
“Careful with that thing,” he taunts. “You might just pull the trigger.”
“Yes, I might just do that.” I compose myself, shifting from foot to foot. I felt clammy and my heart thumped rapidly. I swallowed hard and fired the gun. “Shit!” I cursed, grimacing through the pain that was creeping through my blood and etching its way onto my skin.
Carl chuckles, “Ah…the safety catch! Such a ridiculing part of a gun for a novice who likes to think himself Clint Eastwood,” and laughs loudly.
I released the catch, face reddened by this small error, and aimed the gun again.
He took a step closer.
“Stop!” I blasted, waving the gun to warn him away.
“But you’re going to fire any way, aren't you? So I think I’ll keep on walking, if it’s all the same to you.”
I made a back step, caught the mirror with the back of my heel, and stopped. I looked down on it. Hopefully I cracked it! I thought. But I’d just kicked a little dirt over the frame.
“Trying to put a bullet in my head, are you?” he mocked. “My word, Dan. Haven’t you learned by now? Hasn’t it become obvious, yet? You’re not going to pull the trigger, are you? In fact, you’re going to put that gun inside your mouth. Or even to your head. Either way, your brains are going to paint the hole you’re in. It’s almost like a grave…how convenient.” He nodded in agreement with himself. “Yes, I think that’s what you’re going to do.” And it was as if Carl Winters was willing it to happen, for me to place the gun in my mouth.
“Think again, Gramps,” and I jabbed the gun at him. But I knew I was fighting against something else, too…something I couldn’t see.
