by Vic Kerry
“Amazing. There is so much history here. Maybe that is why I’m having the nightmares. Like you said, negative energy.”
“I believe so.” Marsh looked at his watch. “It is time to eat. Let’s retire to the dining room.”
There was just enough space in the bureau for David to fit his nice clothes inside. After lunch with Marsh, he’d spent the day putting away some of his personal belongings and making the apartment more livable. He wanted to avoid more nightmares, and brightening up the place might help him. Once everything was tidied up, he went for a walk in the churchyard. Some yellow wildflowers growing on the side of the hill opposite the backyard had caught his eye while he was unloading most of his car. They would definitely help liven up his cell, a little bit of the outdoors in the oppressively bleak room.
David tried to avoid thinking of his apartment as bleak, but the longer he stayed in there, the heavier and heavier it became. As he walked among the crooked headstones, he spied the flowers again. The round blooms stuck up from the dark grass like little balls of sunshine. The actual sun had disappeared into the clouds not long after he returned from Marsh’s house. Now the sky darkened more because twilight neared. He walked to the back wall of the churchyard. An almost perfectly round hole hung midway up the wall. It had to be the cannonball hole Marsh spoke of.
David climbed onto the wall and jumped off on the back side. The ground sloped sharply upward. The damp grass and moss made climbing to the flowers difficult. After a few slips and slides, he picked a small bouquet of the wildflowers. They smelled as good as they looked. The musty aroma of his room would benefit from their perfume. He turned to head back to the wall. The first step sent his feet out from under him. David toppled down the hill. His head hit a rock outcropping. Everything went dark for a moment. He felt himself come to rest against the wall before his vision recovered.
As his vision regained full strength, he felt his head. A small amount of blood ran down his forehead from a cut. The bright, cheerful bouquet lay strewn down the hill. He wanted the flowers very much but didn’t want to risk falling again and possibly killing himself. The wall seemed higher than before. He reached to pull himself over, but dizziness overcame him. Walking around the wall would be necessary.
He glanced through the hole in the wall to make sure the gate at the other side was open. It stood ajar. He had started to move around the wall when something in the church caught his eye. Purple light moved from window to window like someone carrying a candle. The slow ache rising in his head told him that he wasn’t dreaming or in a delirium. Someone was there. He ran, despite the dizziness and aching head, to the gate. David leaned against it to steady himself.
The light still moved in the building. He steeled himself and charged to the church door. The small vestibule was dark. Only a faint glow of violet light could be seen. David stormed into the sanctuary. No one was there. The glow floated at the front of the room, over the pit. It looked like a flame. He ran down the aisle toward it. The flame pulsed brighter, then dimmer. He mounted the stage before the podium and reached out toward it. The flame snuffed out, leaving him standing in the dark. David fell to his knees and cried.
A thin twinge of pain creased David’s face. He blinked awake and looked around the room through sleep-glazed vision. Ebenezer Hollingsworth closed a black leather bag. He took a wet rag and wiped it over David’s head.
“You had a nasty fall,” Ebenezer said. “What happened?”
David tried to prop up on his elbows. The other man pushed him back down and shook his head. The ceiling above him looked very familiar. He was back in the bedroom he’d been given at Marsh’s house on the lumpy bed with the springs poking him in the exact same places as before.
“I don’t know,” David said. “How did I get here?”
“You drove yourself,” Marsh said from behind him.
David tried to look back, but Ebenezer clucked his tongue at him. “Stay still. You probably have a concussion, and the last thing you need is to further agitate it.”
“How did you hit your head?” Marsh walked into his line of vision. “All I know is that you banged on my door and pushed your way in. Blood streaked your face, and you ranted about a purple flame and wildflowers before you fainted.”
Foggy memories floated in his head. He supposed it was the concussion. Images tumbled over themselves as he probed to remember. Feelings of fear and deep disappointment seemed to dominate his thoughts more than any particular image or memory.
“Are you a doctor?” he asked Ebenezer.
“Yes, but I would like to know how you hit your head.”
David had asked the question to bide time until he found the proper memory. Both Marsh and Ebenezer stared at him. Their looks scrutinized his very soul. The look in their eyes seemed accusatory. No, that wasn’t it; more like disappointment. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out two things: exactly what had happened and why they would be disappointed by it.
“I can’t remember.”
The look of disappointment on Marsh’s face grew deeper, but Ebenezer put his hand on David’s shoulder.
“Can you remember anything? The smallest amount of information can be helpful.”
“I remember joy, then worry. After that panic,” David said.
“That doesn’t help very much,” Marsh said. “Those are just feelings. What happened?”
“Please, let me handle this, Alistair,” Ebenezer waved his hand. “David, what made you feel that way? Something had to cause those emotions to be so strong that you remember them through your amnesiac state.”
“I climbed the hill behind the church to pick wildflowers,” David strained at his memory. It felt like a tight string being pulled in his mind. “I fell on my way back down because the slope was slippery.”
“Can you not remember anything clearer than that?” Ebenezer asked. Irritability tinged his words.
David couldn’t figure out why the doctor was so frustrated. He tried as hard as he could. The knock to his head obviously had addled his brain. Ebenezer needed to work on his bedside manner.
“Can I try something?” Marsh asked.
The question seemed to be directed to both of them. They said yes together. David really didn’t know why he wanted to know what he couldn’t remember. He needed the solace of knowing what caused such strong emotions.
Marsh reached into his pocket and brought out a marble. He blew on it and polished it on his sleeve. Another look satisfied him. He slid around so that David looked directly at him.
“I’m going to hypnotize you,” he said. “Have you ever been hypnotized before?”
“No. I don’t believe in that nonsense. It’s just a bunch of hoodoo.”
“Look into the glass ball,” Marsh said. “What do you see?”
“A marble.”
“Look beyond that, deep into the glass.”
David stared at the small sphere. Smoky colors hung in the glass. They started to shift and move as he stared deeply into it. He felt his mind begin to loosen up as the rest of his body relaxed as if wrapped in the warmth of that smoke. He was flooded with memories. Not only did he remember how he hit his head, but he also remembered the painting of Marsh from the nightmare. The portrait gained new clarity. A whole army of the nightmare toad people stood behind Marsh. Fire burned behind that. The glow of it bordered the ridge. A ragged old American flag draped a body broken over the ornate cannon from the memorial park.
“Do you hear me?” Marsh asked from a thousand miles above David.
“Yes.”
“What do you remember about hitting your head?”
“I fell because I slipped on the wet moss and hit my head on a rock. I saw the purple light like a candle glowing in the church. I rushed to find out who was carrying it around the sanctuary.”
“Do you mean the purple light you have been seeing in your nightmares?”
“You are being flanked by an army of frogmen. A Union soldier is dead, draped in his f
lag. It’s the painting from the third floor room where the purple glow came from,” David said. “You look like you’ve never aged.”
“What did you see when you went into the church after hitting your head?” Marsh redirected.
“A purple flame hung over that bottomless pit thing. It snuffed out.”
Before Marsh could say anything else, the images before David’s eyes changed. The smoke reappeared, but it pulsed with light, lavender light. It engulfed him. He struggled for breath as the light began to fill up his lungs and drown him.
“I’m drowning in the light. Help me,” David yelled. “Anna, help me.”
“He’s seizing,” Ebenezer said somewhere high above him. “Pull him back.”
“Listen to my words, David,” Marsh said. “Quit staring into the glass sphere. Let your mind surface and see me and Ebenezer.”
“I can’t. I’m drowning in the light.”
An unseen hand slapped David on the cheek. The force of the blow ground his cheek into his teeth. The tinny taste of blood filled his mouth. The violet light dissipated, and he looked at Marsh and Ebenezer.
The doctor dug into his bag and brought out a small vial of liquid. He uncorked it and handed it to David. “Drink this.”
“Why?”
“It will help you feel better. That elixir helps restore memory after a concussion.”
“I didn’t know there was a medicine for that.” David looked at the dark red liquid.
“Not ordinary medicine, but I make some of my own. It will work. I guarantee it.”
David didn’t trust Ebenezer, but he didn’t like the way he felt either. Everything swam around, and nothing seemed real. He swallowed the whole concoction. It tasted like red wine laced with berries. He didn’t expect it to work.
“I am going to walk Ebenezer out, David,” Marsh said, returning the marble to his pocket. “You will stay here tonight so that I can make sure you will be okay.”
“I should really get back to the church. I need to work on my sermon.”
“Nonsense. You need rest,” Marsh said.
“He’s right. Plus, you might have some complications from the concussion. There isn’t a phone at the church, and you could need me,” Ebenezer said. “The best thing is to rest.”
“I’ve got a cell phone,” David said.
“We get horrible signal here,” Ebenezer answered
The two men walked out of the parlor. David settled back on the sofa. The room felt a bit stuffy. A wave of dizziness hit him when he stood to walk to the windows and open them for air. He staggered mid-room when he heard the two men talking on the other side of the door.
“Why do you think the light is affecting him so much?” Ebenezer asked. “Do you think he might bolt before Sunday?”
“I don’t. I believe the light affects him more because he is the real one. After so many years, I believe that we have found the one,” Marsh said.
“I think he’ll be crazy by Thursday evening.”
“Why does that matter? He has talked about God giving him a calling to be here. The call is so strong that it has given him back some faith. He is the one; otherwise, the light wouldn’t affect him this much. Most of the others have never even seen it.”
“I hope so. I tire of this routine every year.”
“I’m glad the other preacher canceled on us. I see wonderful things in our future.” Marsh sounded pleased. “What did you give him?”
“A sleeping dram. It’s so strong I don’t think even the light will affect him.” Ebenezer laughed.
David started to rush the door to accost the two men, but his head swam hard. A sudden attack of sleep overtook him. He had just enough time to sit on the couch before he fell dead asleep.
Wednesday
David reached out and grabbed Thomasine by the arm as she tried to sneak from his room. She squealed and jerked away from him. His grip was too strong for her to wrench free.
“Let me go,” she croaked.
“Why were you trying to sneak out?”
“Master Marsh said not to wake you. I was supposed to leave your breakfast on the nightstand and leave.”
“Why is that?”
“He said because you needed your rest.” Thomasine clammed up.
“Don’t stop now; keep going.”
“I’ve got nothing else to say.”
David kept a secure hand on the maid and got out of bed. This entailed a degree of difficulty he hadn’t expected, but he knew if he had let his grip slip just a little, Thomasine would have bolted for the door. The Marsh servants liked to dodge him and his questions at every opportunity. He pulled her with him to the door and closed it.
“Go sit on the sofa.” He let go of Thomasine’s arm.
She stood looking at him but didn’t move. David pushed her toward the couch. Her feet scuttled across the floor. Again she made no effort to move by herself.
“Fine. If you want to stand, be stubborn,” David said. He took a position between her and the door just in case she tried to make a dash for it. “You’re still going to answer some questions for me.
“How did I end up in here? I passed out in the parlor.”
“We brought you up here. Master Marsh believed you would be more comfortable. I have work to attend to.” She tried to walk past him.
“Not just yet.” David blocked her. “Why did Ebenezer give me a sleeping potion?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why am I dreaming about purple lights?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you won’t tell: which is it?”
“She doesn’t know,” Marsh said from behind David.
He turned to see the master of the house wearing a smoking jacket and standing just inside the door. Thomasine pushed past David and left the room. Marsh shook his head.
“Have a seat,” he pointed to the bed, “and eat your breakfast. You need food.”
David sat down on the bed but left the tray of food on the table. “I’d rather not.”
Marsh sat on the sofa and crossed his legs. “Why?”
“I don’t know what’s in it.”
“I believe it’s grits and melba toast.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I overheard you and Ebenezer talking last night. He gave me a sleeping potion.”
“That is true.”
“How do I know you’ve not drugged the food?”
“You don’t, but why would I do that?”
“Why would you give me a sleeping potion?”
Marsh smiled a wry smile. “Because you needed to sleep. Ebenezer said the only way to help your brain heal was sleep.”
“That’s not right. You’re not supposed to sleep if you have a concussion,” David said.
“You’re being irrational, Reverend Stanley. He’s a doctor and knows more than both of us in this matter.”
“What about all that talk about the nightmare light?”
“Have you or haven’t you been having nightmares involving a pulsing purple light?” Marsh asked.
“Yes.”
“We were talking about the nightmares. Ebenezer knew that his sleeping medicine would keep you from having those dreams. Sleep is the most important thing you can get. Without it, you’ll go crazy.”
David thought for a moment. He rolled the conversation he had overheard in his mind. Marsh did an excellent job explaining it. He hated it when he felt so silly. Everything had been a misunderstanding.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I’ve just gotten rattled by the fall and the nightmares.”
“It is understandable.” Marsh stood. “Have your breakfast, and then you can go back to the church and work on your sermon.”
“I’d really like to use the Internet. Do you have it here at the house?” David took the tray from the table and placed it on his lap.
“The Internet? No,” Marsh answered.
“How about the library?” he asked through a mouth of grits.<
br />
“Nothing in Innsboro has it. We are very far out.”
“Not even dial-up?”
Marsh walked to the door. “Our phone lines are very poor. They’ve not been updated in many years.”
David bit a piece of melba toast. “I guess I’ll have to use my cell phone when I get back to the church. It’s slow going, and I don’t know how much time I have left on my plan.”
“Cell phone signal is atrocious here as well, like Ebenezer said last night. They are practically useless. You can leave when you get ready. I will give you my good-byes now. I have work to do in town and probably won’t be here when you depart.”
“Thank you for everything,” David said.
Marsh gave a small bow and left. David finished his breakfast and set the tray back on the table. Rain spattered against the window. It seemed it rained every day in this town. He walked to the window and looked out. His room faced the street. Marsh’s Lincoln drove down the street toward the town. David decided to go back to the church and get some work done.
Trepidation filled David as he looked at the doors to the church. He wanted to get back in his car and drive away. At the same time, God tugged at his heartstrings. A voice told him that these townspeople needed saving. David agreed. Something about the town and the people felt strange, like a group of people doomed forever. He didn’t like that feeling. If being their preacher might save them from eternal damnation, he would do it. David stormed into the church.
Despite the gloominess outside, the sanctuary seemed brighter than it had. A lemony odor hung in the air. Everything smelled fresh. He walked to the windows. The dust that had streaked them just the day before was gone. The cemetery beyond the wall looked as clear as if he stood in it. He absentmindedly put his hand on the curved back of a pew. The wood felt slick as if oiled. The smell of melting paraffin wax with the fragrance of lemons wafted over him. He looked at the ceiling. Light flickered from the chandelier. Long taper candles melted halfway down. The church had been cleaned. It looked amazing.
“Hello?” he said loudly into the room.
“What?” a voice croaked from behind the pulpit.
