-1-
It was dark.
I kept it that way
Though nothing could hide the constantly bustling scene that lay outside the window some 15 stories below. I may have spent hours. . . days watching the streets intersect and flow together. There always seemed to be more people than it could hold. Once again more people places, things I didn’t care to recognize.
I had plenty of time to think, especially when the scotch ran out.
Were those people in New Haven's blood on my hands ? Their lives gone. . . so gruesomely because of me.
I wanted to be locked away for what felt like my crimes, but
no one would ever believe a vengeful spirit had done such a thing and I imagined I would grow tired of being imprisoned. I'd been careless and reckless while dealing with such dark things.
The last snow of that winter began to fall and I was at least fortunate to be inside. It was nearly 3 am in the morning and still there were so many people in the streets, did it ever end?
I turned my attention back to the darkened hotel suite. I searched out for the ash tray in the dark and let the embers fall. It was my last cigarette.
I’d come to the realization that maybe I didn’t deserve a second chance.
I had been so careless with my first love, my wife.
I had caused her pain
But what of it ?
What of my own pain? betrayal—betrayals ?
I touched the cold frosted glass
I was so close to being close to happy, I could rearrange and change every action in my mind to get the ending I wanted. . . I deserved.
We deserved.
My hand began to tremble against the glassMy lips shifted as a slow drop of salt water slipped between them, silently followed by another.
---
Let’s run away together
I was hearing voices, so clear they echoed.
I can show you the wonderful places this world has to offer
My eyes opened and I began searching the room for the source
of the voice, in the process I stepped over the fallen pages of the calendar on the wall.
Unlike you I’ve seen beyond this desolate piece of land and even with this second chance you likely never will.
The voice was beginning to get louder, I was close to recognizing it when I slipped over a page of the calendar.
Instead of hitting the floor I woke up in bed.
It was daylight, I had awoken at the best and brightest time of the morning.
It was April.
The suite was entirely to lived in now. I knew exactly what was in every drawer the order each of my shirts and other clothing would be in, I would wake up the same time everyday, I knew I would purchase multiple newspapers to keep myself occupied
I made my way down to the bar, as usual. There were no new
messages for me at the front desk-- Emile had been rather busy lately, he had told me he still wasn't over the death of his friends.
I purchased a paper and watched the comings and going of people in the main lobby. The morning was starting to slip away and I could still hear the voice from my dream
“Morning, sir”, the bartender said, as he said to everyone.
I had considered leaving this hotel multiple times over the past few months but I couldn't bring myself to. Just going down the block felt like a feat. All the people and voice felt suffocating. All the eyes felt accusatory.I felt as if everyone would know I was responsible for the Connecticut couples death and the countless others Lucie enjoyed torturing.
“How is it outside”, I asked the bartender
He nearly dropped the glass in his hand, partially because
I’d never bothered to speak to him except when necessary.
“It’s good”, he said stumbling over his words
"Perhaps I will go out"
"You should"
I wondered where I would go.
It wasn’t as if I could get lost seeing as I had nowhere to be
-2-
There wasn’t a quiet
moment to be had in the city. People were constantly talking and a strange murmur seemed to be permanently trapped in the air.
As I walked I thought about what a burden life was—had been—is now.
The streets and turns I took were so ingrained in my mind that I honestly couldn’t get lost if I wanted. However after a hour's time I began to feel tired.
I stopped and lifted my eyes to an empty storefront, more specifically to the words etched on the store front window.
RUNAWAY
There was a woman sitting behind a desk, she looked up twice before she realized I was standing
there. There were several tattered and faded posters on the walls.
“Hi, welcome to Runaway Travel LTD”, the woman said. . . her expression brightened.
She offered me a chair and went to make coffee.
“So”, she said, “Where can I set up your dream vacation ? Miami, Costa Rica and Tahiti are popular this time of year.”
Vacation, somehow that hadn’t seemed like the right word.
“It’s okay if you don’t know”, she said placing a well worn and very detailed globe on her desk, “Just pick a place.”
She spun the globe and waited impatiently for it to stop..
The dust started to settle on the table and I reached out
with one finger and stopped the globe from spinning, my hand landed on the
South Pacific Ocean.
“What did you choose”, she was ecstatic
I thought about it for a second and turned the globe so it started to spin again. I never took my eyes away from it.
“Do I have to choose one ?”
She smiled and started typing.
I watched the globe as it continued to spin and suddenly the world opened up to me
---
The HMS Matisse was a large and at first glance unwelcoming ship. Nothing about the cargo ships ominous appearance made it welcoming. Containers were being loaded and men where at work. It didn't seem like the kind of vessel to take visitors yet here I was. I was ready to put thousands of miles and a 160 days between me and my past.
Earlier that day I had checked out of the hotel with two
suitcases. One with clothes the other filled with cash. I’d had one last drink
in the hotel bar, left a harty tip and headed to a used bookstore.
The bookstore was a large two story building and when one entered a
bell went off. I was greeted with a sign that said :
For whom the bell tolls
it tolls for thee
I remember finding
it clever but heavily understated
I would have plenty of time to read and therefore was not overly concerned with
which books to purchase. I selected a handful from the philosophy section and two best sellers
The young clerk was half-asleep behind the register and
began ringing me up on an antique register.
'Bookmark ?", He said pointing to a box filled with odd flat paper items
that could easily be used for bookmarks.
I didn’t really think I would need one but I sensed I was making him nervous as
he started ringing me up again. I choose the one laying on top and after turning
it over I gazed upon a familiar image, it was the image of the skull and knight
I had seen in the library in New haven. There was a name inscribed on the
front-- 'Robert Essex'
It was a tarot card
Death to be exact.
"Do you know who signed thins ?", I asked him
He looked at the card and bent over his desk for a moment.
"Some sort of occultist. He had a weirdo creepy event a few years ago. Uh...149.45", he consulted the register.
I paid in cash and he began to pack up the books. He reached
over behind him and pulled something from one of the window displays.
“I think this is one of his books”, he said, "I'll throw it in for half off"
Finding Nirvana by Robert Essex
It was a small and looked to be a harmless book so I asked
him to add it in.
"Sure is a lot of books, are you going on a trip or something ?", he
asked looking over the receipt
"As a matter of fact I am."
"Where to ?"
"To be honest. . . a little bit of everywhere"
“You should comeback and visit us when you get back”
“Thank You, but I don’t plan on coming back.”
---
It was approaching dusk when I and 15 other passengers boarded the cargo ship
The other passengers stood around orbiting and chatting with each other. Some appeared
nervous others
were preoccupied with watching the planes come in an out of nearby airport.
The ship had its own crew, comprised mostly of young French men. They appeared somewhat sullen and rough but were surprisingly amiable towards having guest on their ship.
There was also an attendant, Ms. Donovan. She was a middle aged woman who attended to the extra needs of the crew and passengers. Her permanent expression was a smile as she gave us passengers a tour of the vessel and introduced the captain. A rather ordinary looking man who spoke fluent French and accented English.
The final stop on the tour were the cabins down below. She personally escorted each couple or individual to their rooms. I didn’t hear her say my name and instead felt her hand on mine.I’d flinched, accidentally . I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt another human's hand on mine.
“Sorry, dear”, she said
I was indifferent towards her apology and remained quiet. The room itself only had a single bed, a dull living room set and a small dirty window.
“it’s not much”, Ms. Donovan said, “But you won’t be spending much time down here anyway”
She smiled again and shut the door as she left.
-3-
It was sunset when the ship lurched and seemed to come alive. It happened so swiftly that if I hadn’t witnessed it from the deck I would have never thought that we were actually moving.
Behind me cheers went off as the makeshift bar opened for the first night and every night after that.
The ship cut through the water so slowly it seemed the glittering city was getting smaller and for a
second or perhaps longer I felt a tinge of sadness.I gripped the railing along the deck, staring deeply into
the darkness of the water beneath me. I imagined the water was cold and for
several minutes I entertained the idea of falling in. Letting the water consume
into the mindnubming unknown that was death.
The truth was I was running away.
My jacket felt as if it were constricting me so I took it off, my eyes never leaving the dark depths below. I took a minuscule step forward when I felt someone pull me back.
There was a flash of anger but it quickly subsided
. .alright ?”, a male voice said
I turned to see a man in his 60’s. He was a passenger who had come with his wife. I could
see her watching him with a wine glass clutched in her hands. Clearly upset that he had intervened.
“I’m fine. Thank you”, I said, though I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for.
---
The first morning I awoke to nothing but brilliant blue waves in all directions. The entire world never appeared so large and small at the same time.
There was a map on the back of the captain’s door, outlying
the long journey the Matisee would be taking. My concentration had been fixed
on day 24. The ship would be porting in Fiumicino,
located in the beautiful province of Rome. I had brought a book about the city in lieu of this. As the ship sailed I dove into the text.
Mr. and Mrs. Carter
were the couple I had a run in with the other day. They spent their time on deck putting together scrapbooks of their large family.
They were both retired writers and watching them seemed to heal something in me.
“What’s your family like?”, Mrs. Carter asked while writing captions on her photos
“I never had a chance to meet them”, she appeared concerned, misunderstanding my answer.
I kept quite after that and vowed to spend more time listening than speaking.
Our first port call was in Barcelona. It was actually a relief to see land after so many days. The sun was at its highest when I stepped onto the dock, there were beaches teaming with life and people.
I located a phone in one of the port’s office and dialed
Emile’s number, I didn’t think he would pick up.
“Hello ?”, He picked up on the first ring
“Emile, I-“
“Where are you calling me from ?”, he asked.
“Spain. I’ll send you money for the charges. . . I just wanted to know how things are.”
“Things are okay”, he spoke carefully, “Are you sure you
want to lie about being alive."
“Yes. I have to stay away from Clara. You've seen what Lucie can do.”
“I understand”, Emile said.
“I’ll speak to you later”
“Wait—when will you be back in the states.”
“August, I believe”, that was when the Matisse would make it's second call in New York.
"Good. Let me know when you are here. Please"
It was then that both Emile and I realized we did not have anything else to speak to each other about and quickly hung up.
I must have gone to the botanical garden after that because that is what I did in every city. Barcelona’s was the most spectacular and I remember it vividly. There weren’t many plants but the landscaping was unique. Their was a long pier that stretched from one end of the garden to the other
Once again I started envisioning myself falling into the water, like some ill fated death wish.
-4-
The generator failed in the middle of the Mediterranean.
Night had already
fallen so it was pitch black inside the cabin. Mrs. Donovan had come by to make
sure everyone was settled
Luckily, I found few candles to read by. I sorted through the books and came across a small one I had nearly forgotten about.
Finding Nirvana
. The introduction made it clear that Essex was obsessed with the occult and afterlife.
The first few pages were predictable and simple. However the specifics drew me in.
Take, dear readers, the mirror. The false world created in the looking glass is at best similar to our own. Consider the afterlife in the same respect. A reflection of the gathered knowledge of entire generations in one interlocked place. Each man comes into the afterlife with value as opposed to having to seek it out. In this first life we must prepare to provide for our role in the afterlife
His words rung true, to true
The book had first been published over 20 years ago and the more I
read the more I was convinced that this man new something about Night Fall. He
wrote of poltergeist, ghost and other terrors. He spoke of something called Trial By Fire that sounded oddly similar to Lucie and Victor's fate.
Perhaps he could help me to help Lucie
I turned a few more pages before a few words caught my eyes.
Dear reader the time has come for me to explain myself in terms of the title of the book. I have written for pages on the afterlife but what of Nirvana. It’s simple. . . it doesn’t exist. Once we enter the afterlife we can starve, stab dehydrate for the fun of it but you will be stuck in the afterlife-- true purgatory forever.
If true heaven is out there... you have to find it.
I spent the better part of the night reading the book again and again. There was a sharp chill in the air, I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized I was on the floor. AsI stood I came face to face with Lucie.
I remembered her being smaller and perhaps younger when we last we met.
“What have you been up to ?”, she asked.
She reached out to touch me, he touch was so cold it burned. I think it even hurt her, not that she would admit it.More importantly t she had touched me --it made her all to real.
“I should ask the same of you.”, I said
“It’s not my fault they all deserved it.”
I wanted to tell her not to hurt anyone aboard the ship but that would have just provoked her.
“What did those people do, Lucie”
“It’s what they were going to do. Love always ends sour, I was trying to help. ", she turned away, I certainly hope you enjoy traveling.”
“Why is that”
“I just find. .. it suits you.”
"Lucie you have to stop haunting me"
"Why ? Haven't I fixed us ? Aren't we both better off without her ? Better off without Roger. Or perhaps we should make our arraignment more permanent ? I think you'd enjoy being Weightless."
"No. I promised I'd stay by you in this form. And I will."
Her painfully cold lips touched mine briefly, I somehow stopped myself from recoiling as the heat began to fill the room and smooth hum of the generator filled the air.
---
I arrived in Rome with nearly half the energy I expected. Lucie’s chilling late night visit was still fresh in my mind for the weeks that followed.
The streets were narrow and filled with people who did not seem at all to be in a rush. I didn’t actually know where I was going but I found comfort knowing I was walking the same streets she had. With that thought I started to let myself enjoy the surroundings.Everything about the city was beautiful, I began to see why she loved it so much.
A long time ago she promised to show me the wonderful things the world had to offer. . .
But I had ruined it.
The thought darkened my day and I stole into the closest wine bar for a drink. It was still early in the afternoon so I ordered a red wine and gazed into for a while. The glass was rather large and the restaurant name “Via Girbraldi” was etched into the side in gold.The restaurants walls were covered with gold frames of what I assumed what the Girbaldi family. The frames were all handmade and the man behind the counter explained he was making one for his great-grandchild’s picture, though he would gladly sell it.
I took him up on the offer.
It really was a lovely city, I considered settling there.
What would I do though
I didn’t really have any skills
Yes, money wouldn’t be an issue if I invested but that
became. . . tiresome. There would also be social scenes, trite conversations
and questions.
No, this is why I didn’t settle
I didn’t have a reason too.
-6-
The Matisee traveled to the Far East next. Before approaching second call in New York
there was a quick stop in Savannah, Georgia.It may as well have been another
country to me.
I decided to stay on the deck as others went in search of
the “southern hospitality”. I was still immersed in
notating Essex's book. I had picked up another one of his book on a Navy base and kept it close. It was about Death Cults and seemed to be loosely based on facts.
The sun was higher in the sky as the day progressed and I
began to sweat more than I ever had, The sun suddenly seemed torturous so late in the summer. I stowed away downstairs
in my room were there was an air conditioner running on low.
For the first time in a while I began to feel weak, I had fallen asleep for the rest of the day. No one seemed to miss me or notice until Mrs. Donovan knocked cheerfully on my door.
I didn’t answer, it wasn't that I hadn’t wanted to I just couldn’t. After another hour she opened the door. I don’t remember what she said or the actions that followed because I was plummted back to that cold winter. I was back in the snow, bleeding out in the middle of the woods again.
Mrs. Donovan had gone to call the medic, whom usually
looked after the crew.
The medic was a retired doctor, he moved quickly and swiftly
for a man of his age.
“I should take you to a hospital”, was his final diagnosis but I would have none of it.
“You can’t”, he probably thought I was delusional , “I just need to make a phone call.”
He must have given me a phone, because all I remember is staring at the numbers trying to recall Emile’s phone number and nothing was coming to me. The phone silently slipped from my grasp and the world around me became dark again.
Against my own insistence they had taken me to a hospital in a small town outside of Savannah. I began to fear I had come down with consumption, either way I could not be in a hospital.
So many questions, so many lies I was beginning to lose track.
There was an IV in my arm, it connected to a heart monitor and the insistent beeping was distracting. It seemed to be getting louder the more I tried to think of what to do next. I remember wishing I could have stayed there and letting my burdens wash over me.
I had awoken in the middle of the night with my suitcases underneath the hospital bed. The ship would be leaving without me. I decided I would be leaving in the morning against medical advice, hoping I could hold myself together long enough to make it. . . somewhere. I was constantly exhausted everything about me felt heavy.
I often wondered what Emile thought when I didn’t show in
New York the day I was supposed to arrive.
-7-
I made it to a motel somehow. I then spent hours writing and rearranging the seven letters that lead to Emile’s number but none of them appeared to be right.
It must have been dark outside because cold air began to fill the room. It took all the strength I had to make it over to the door. I nearly feel alseep next to it. I was to exhausted to make it back to the bed. My eyes began to adjust to the dark and I noticed something was in the room.
At first I thought it was a pillow lying on the floor, but it became obvious that I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
It was a person
A small person with long dark hair fanned out across the floor, the figure was wearing a patterned dress that seemed very familiar to me. The figure was lying face down in a puddle of shimmering blood.
I swore I was being delusional but I could feel something, as if someone was standing next to me. The blood moved smoothly across the hard wood floor touching the base of my finger.
I backed further against the door, using the handle to stand up
It was a little girl and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was dead. With a strange burst of energy I began pacing the room keeping clear of whatever was before me. I kept waiting to wake up or for the horrific image before me to disappear.
Still the green and yellow patter on her dress appeared very familiar, everything about that image did.
I had to see her face.
I reached for her delicate shoulder, holding my breathe as I attempted to turn her over.
I never saw her face and nothing made much sense after that. As I had expected I awoke as if from a nightmare but the tip of my finger was still stained from the little girl’s blood. I convinced myself the images was nothing more than a ghost, another terrifying image I would have to live with.
Strangely, my fever broke the next day.
I felt a strange sense of relief. Maybe I was never meant to make it back to New York.
I flipped through a few pages of Finding Nirvana it always seemed to be within an arm’s length of me. Essex seemed to know so much about the truths of life and death. Perhaps he could help me save Lucie from herself, perhaps there was someway for her to rest in peace.
At the bottom of my suitcase I found the CD Emile had played for me that cold January night in his apartment. There was a case along with it and with renewed strength I cracked the hard plastic around it letting the paper backing fall out.
There was a list of songs but also a picture of her as well. She was smiling her reflection mirrored in the piano she was leaning against. Her eyes were dark but bright at the same time.
For the first time in months I realized I missed her. The picture fit perfectly in the frame and I considered placing it on the bedside.
It relaxed the strain and burden I had felt---
7172940
I almost drop the frame reaching for the phone and dialed the number. It rang multiple times and no one picked.
I dialed again and it connected
“Hello ?”
“Emile?”
He let out a breath and there was a silence.
“Where were you?”, he asked
“I was taken ill. I’ve just gotten better after. . .”
I paused not sure why I was telling him the strange events that unfolded last night but I did ,in much of the same detail. He listened carefully and remained silent
“Emile, are you still there ?”
“Yes. . . so um, the girl did you ever see her face ?”
“no, I’ve just told you. I imagine it was Lucie attempting to frighten me of what I don’t know. “
Although I couldn’t see him, he seemed distracted.
“Emile, listen. I won’t be able to make it to New York. I feel as If I’m on to something. There is someone I think can help.”
“I understand”, he said listlessly so I began to question him.
“Is something wrong ? has something happened ?”
“No. . . not all. Just call me when you think you’ve found what you are looking for.”
He finished abruptly and I heard the dial tone. It occurred to me later that the nightmare I had described to him must have bothered him.
I scanned Essex’s biography at the back of the book for the first time, he was a professor at a small university know doubt because of his eccentric views.
Foolishly I began put all my faith into one person I didn’t even know.
It lead to nothing more than a three year dead end.