Blue Macabre

by J. W. DeBrock

  Chris ran close to the railing but slipped in a puddle and fell. Andy ran close behind, tripping on an exposed stump and falling, his injuries screaming. Suzanne ran into the clearing behind them, tightly clutching the baby. The white blanket was tucked inside her coat, and she tugged on one of its corners to try and wipe the rain from her eyes.

  As she touched the blanket, the threads of the delicate weave began to shimmer with light. She looked down, incredulous, as it sparkled and shone. The blanket emerged from her coat, and floated through the air toward Chris. He’d just gotten to his feet and as he looked up he absolutely froze, the color drained from his face.

  Suzanne went to Andy and helped him up.

  All of their eyes, their attentions were riveted as the blanket hung in the air, impervious to the wind, in a different dimension. The tiny fireworks through the threads melded, and it was surrounded by a white glow. The size of the blanket changed and began to take form.

  Suzanne said quietly, “Donna.”

  The blanked assumed the shape of a woman, her entirety shimmering with light, the gossamer fabric of her dress floating softly as she materialized. She was unaffected by the wind and rain, floating a few inches off the ground and three or four feet away from Chris. All three of them heard her speak, although her lips did not move or produce sound.

  “Chris . . .” She extended her hand to him as he dropped to his knees.

  “Chris . . . there are so many ideas that you aren’t remembering, so many lifetimes you’ve forgotten. In this life you were tempted with dark things and you accepted. All of us teach each other, and all of us learn. I forgive you for the hurtful things you tried to teach me. We both forgive you.” She extended her open palm and they all saw the beautiful globe of light. “He forgives you, Chris. We want you to come home.”

  Chris moaned from the depth of his spirit as she moved toward him.

  “Come home, Chris. Wrongs can be righted and forgiven. All is forgiveness.” She floated toward him.

  “I can’t!” Chris cried. “I’m not ready. LEAVE ME ALONE!”

  “That is something I cannot do. You must accept your karma.”

  Chris covered his face with his hands, and then screamed and covered his head with his arms. “NO!”

  “Please,” Donna said. “Come home.”

  Chris stumbled away from the apparition. He stepped toward the log railing, and beneath his foot a large crack opened in the sand. In a chain reaction, the weakened cliff face began to slide and the log railing quickly disappeared over the edge. Before he could move, the surface he’d been standing on was gone, crumbling beneath him. The wind carried his screams.

  As he began to slide over the failing edge, Andy and Suzanne saw him reach out to the woman. She floated toward him, smiling, extending both hands to him. They saw his hand connect with hers, and for a moment the two of them were within the white light together.

  Then he was gone.

  Andy and Suzanne approached the woman as she looked over the edge of the cliff. She turned to them, smiling. The wind and rain ceased to surround them as she hovered near to them reaching to Suzanne, caressing her face, lovingly placing her hand on the baby. “Take care of him.”

  She touched Andy’s arm. “Heal well, brave man.”

  Then she vanished.

  Chris’s body lay on the rocks at the base of the cliff, pummeled by the winter surf. The blanket floated downward through the wind and rain of its own volition and purpose and eventually settled upon him, shrouding his body.

  Andy took Suzanne in his arms, and they cradled the baby between them, their hair dripping, faces and hands red with cold. Andy bent over to kiss Suzanne on top of her head, and as she sheltered the baby they opened her coat to look at him. He yawned and put his tiny hand to his mouth. Andy gently touched the baby’s face.

  The baby looked up at the two of them.

  He had his mother’s green eyes.

  Author’s note . . .

  Of course, this is a work of fiction. My characters are entirely of my own imagination. The story is my own idea, but perhaps some of the ideas contained in it may choose to materialize . . .

  However – the places I describe are very real – at least they were when I lived in that particular area of Washington state, what seems many lifetimes ago. The National Volcanic Monument area around Mt. St. Helens does exist, and is a fascinating glimpse into the volcanic history and activity of our awesome planet. Washington state is one of the most beautiful and magical places I have ever been privileged to live. It is a land of majesty and amazing natural beauty. Memories of living there, vacationing there, and loving being there will forever be in my collection of my most favorite places on Earth.

  They are memories I will cherish forever, no matter which planet I call home.

  J.W. DeBrock