“Yes, I think so,” replied Joe, more meekly than he had intended. “And the third date?”
“Ah, the third and final date. This is the most important of all.”
“Why? Because it was your birthday?”
“Well, I never, Mr. Dawson!” Susan Reilly's mother feigned coyness. “Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age? And even ruder to guess her age and get it hopelessly wrong! No, I wasn't born on September 9th 1964. In fact, here is where my magic stopped and the only magic that matters is that which you made for yourself...”
“What the hell are you talking about now, woman?”
Another roll of the eyes. “The date was only significant because of what you did on that day, Mr. Dawson. What you did. Bear in mind you could have done anything you wanted that day.”
“I suppose so.”
“So tell me, Mr. Dawson. What did you do?”
“I went to the beach.”
“That's right, Mr. Dawson. You went to the beach. Do you remember the girl? The other innocent young thing you slaughtered when that dark beast rose up inside you?”
Joe suddenly felt a stab of shame as his cheeks flushed crimson. “I remember...”
“Well, didn't you recognize her?”
Joe remembered how careful he had been not to burden himself with the image of the girl's face, how he had done his utmost to avoid seeing what she looked like.
He shook his head.
“Well, you should have.”
“Why?”
“Because that was your mother, Mr. Dawson. You murdered your own mother. How do you feel about that?”
This time, Joe's legs did give out and he almost toppled sideways, only grasping the desk at the last possible second to stop himself crashing to the floor.
“No, no, no. You're wrong. How can that be?”
“It can be because you made it be. Did you not know that your mother was a frequent visitor to Rhyl? Before she met your father, and even a few times after she met him. I only put you in that time. What you did there was entirely up to you. Your fate was your own to make. As I said, every action has a consequence.”
“And the consequences of what I did?”
“Oh, this is the best part, Mr. Dawson!” the woman said, almost squealing with delight. “The consequences of you killing your own mother before you were even born are many. Now you can never even be conceived. So, quite soon, you will cease to exist altogether. If you were never born, then you wouldn't be alive to kill my dear Susan. Hopefully she will be returned to me, and these years of pain and sorrow I've had to endure will simply be erased. Like you.”
“That's insane!” Joe almost shouted. “You can't erase me. I exist. I'm here, now, talking to you!”
The woman chuckled again. “Not for long, dear!”
“What will happen to me?”
“A very good question. Probably the best one you've asked so far. And one I'm not sure I can answer. What I do know, though, is that while scientists would have you believe that sleep is just the body's way of recharging its batteries, healing and repairing, they're wrong, Mr. Dawson. So wrong. Sleep is much more than that. Sleep is a gateway between two worlds. The ancients knew this, but over the years the knowledge has been forgotten.”
“Forgotten?”
“Well, maybe that's not the right word. Maybe 'hidden' is better. But that's a whole other story.”
“So what are you trying to say?” Joe exclaimed. “What will happen when I sleep? Will I wake up in another different year? Another different world?”
“Not this time. Now, the cycle is complete. And before you ask, the spell, if that's what you want to call it, cannot be reversed. It's gone too far for that.”
“I'm still not getting it.”
The woman sighed. “The next time you fall asleep, you're not going to wake up in 1964, 1973, 1982 or 2014.”
“So... when? Where?” Joe asked, the dread building inside him.
“I don't know, Mr. Dawson,” Susan Reilly's mother said. “I honestly don’t. But I hope you wake up in the place you dream about. That awful, dark, damp place that makes you scream at night. Maybe Susan will be there waiting for you, to keep you company, or maybe she won't. I'm not sure about how that part works. The important thing is that this time, you're never coming back to this world. And I think this world will be all the better for it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. There are guests to look after.”
Without another word, she left. Just like that. Joe watched her walk out of his room and down the corridor, humming happily to herself as she went.
THE END
By the same author:
Into the Dragon's Lair: A Supernatural History of Wales
Apartment 14F: An Oriental Ghost Story
Dead of Night
Devil's Island
From the Ashes: The REAL Story of Cardiff City FC
X: A Collection of Horror
Visit him:
http://cmsaunders.wordpress.com/
Or follow him on Twitter:
@CMSaunders01
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