Thursday, October 13, 2005
Finally, the Rock has come back to Fiction Fridays
As such, being on hiatus and all, I hope this story matches my old, quaint charming yet heartwarming pieces you've all come to love and enjoy.
THE SOUL'S EYE Copyright 2005 Jeff Vickers
In bright moonlight, Colleen moves quietly yet deliberately through the forest. The deeper she progresses, the more the trees seem to grow into straight rows, without randomness, lined in utter mathematical progression. The moonlight becomes more and more blue, to the point Colleen can no longer see anything beyond the tree nearest her, and the blue glow surrounding her. From the darkness, a silhouetted hand reaches out toward her.
"No!" Colleen mutters, not a yell, but rather a loud yet soft cry. A dozen people turn around to stare at Colleen, who looks up to see herself not in the forest, but in church, with all onlookers, and herself, dressed in their Sunday best.
"You know, I think it's a sin to fall asleep in church" snickered Colleen's brother Robert, quietly, and with a sarcastic chuckle. Colleen refused to verbally reply, opting to give Robert a stiff elbow to his side.
Watching the priest's sermon, Colleen seemed to drift away yet again, and soon found herself back in the forest. She quickly walked through the trees, once again seeing them, almost by the tree's choice, begin to file into ordered lines. The light became bluer, and bluer, and the silhoutted hand reached out again. The hand is now being accompanied by a voice, uttering "This hand did that. The blood has your..." The voice was stilted and backward, but yet had a quality Colleen recognized, but could not place.
"But, as it seems, my daughter hasn't the respect my family has, paying final wishes to her father by SLEEPING THROUGH THE SERVICE!" Colleen jerked awake with a start, and noticed all the people in the pews were now looking at her, all with the same angered, disgusted look. Colleen went red with embarassment, and sat, looking toward the floor, in a feeble attempt to hide from the glares that were burning through her like a hot knife through butter.
The remainder of the surface was a haze, as Colleen's mother finished the eulogy, the priest parted with some last words, and the pallbearers slowly carried the casket, containing the body of Colleen's father, down the aisle of the cathedral towards the awaiting Hearse. All the while, the sounds of the funeral were drowned out by the voice repeating "This hand did that. The blood has your..." over and over in Colleen's head, which was followed only by the repeating thought in Colleen's head, "has my what?"
The Hearse and the automotive procession finally reaches St. Peter's cemetary, and the priest stands above the grave, about to commit Colleen's father to the ground. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" is drowned out to the weird chants of "This hand did that. The blood has your..." still ringing in Colleen's mind.
Thumping starts to echo through the casket, and Colleen stares at the casket, frozen in shock. Her shock turns to horror as the lid of the coffin slowly rises. The coffin is slowly lowered into the ground, as the lid opens all the way, and Colleen's father sits up, as he's lowered into the ground. As dirt is shovelled into the grave, her father slowly, yet methodically, makes his way out of the hole, and walks toward Colleen.
Colleen, frozen and terrified, sees her father approach her. However, she finds it incredibly strange as none of the mourners have even batted an eye that anything has happened, like they are oblivious to what is going on. Her father stands directly opposite her, uttering "This hand did that. The blood has your..." over and over again.
The brightness of the day suddenly gives way to a deep blue, moonlit night, and suddenly the utterance from Colleen's father changes. It now makes sense.
"The hand that did this has your blood. The one who killed me was you bro..."
The remainder of the sentence drowned out to Colleen's own scream, as, unbeknownst to Colleen, Robert lay waiting behind her, and repeatedly stabbed a nine inch blade into Colleen's back.
neolithic pondered at 22:55
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