The Battle

5

When he was finished in town he drove home making one last stop at the liquor store a few blocks from the house. He used to drink when he was in college before going to the seminary, but stopped when he and Joanna started dating and he never continued. Since she passed he really hadn’t gave it much thought, until today. He bought a bottle of Jack Daniels and a six pack of Coca-Cola. He was emotionally exhausted and felt physically drained from accepting his past congregation’s sympathies of hugs and handshakes. He wanted to get drunk and forget. But if he called and cancelled his plans with Joshua that would be a “sign”. Besides he already promised. With his new necessities by his side he pulled into his driveway fighting the urge to start pouring a drink before putting the groceries away.

Taking the groceries inside, he put them away as quickly as he could. It was 1 o’ clock, with dinner at seven, he thought he would be safe enough to have a few drinks and be sober before going over. Bringing in Joanna’s clothes and hanging them in her still full closet would require a drink or two or even three. He was almost to the car when he decided to get the mail

now instead of later. Eliminating the possibility of stumbling down the driveway. Even though he was not a priest anymore he felt obligated to put forth a good example.

Opening the mail box he grabbed the contents that no doubt had “Thinking of You” and various other sympathy type cards from his former congregation. Not wanting to deal with it now, he tucked the mail under his arm and he walked back to the car. Grabbing the bag with the soda and bottle of Jack he carefully picked up the dry cleaning and walked in the house.

Tossing the mail onto the kitchen table without a care of its contents, he placed the liquor store bag on the counter and carefully hung the dry cleaning on the coat hook that Joanna always hung her “Kiss the cook” apron. He took out a highball glass rinsed it out and added two ice cubes. He popped open a can of coke and filled the glass half full. Staring at the glass he was trying to judge how much Jack to add based on how much emotional trauma he would soon experience.

“It never hurts to have more than not enough.” Michael recited Joanna’s philosophy on cooking to the silence. When he finally had his proper ratio of Jack to coke, he took the clothes off the hook and walked upstairs not looking forward to the memories.

6

Before undertaking the dreaded task he decided to follow Joshua’s advice of setting an alarm for one hour. Good advice considering that shortly after Joanna’s death Joshua had to move in for a few weeks. Few weeks? Hell more like three months. Michael couldn’t count the times that Joshua would come over in the early morning to find him sitting in a chair with Joanna’s closet open crying and holding her clothes, only to leave and return many hours later to find he hadn’t moved one inch.

He was thankful to have a friend like Joshua. He knew being left to his own devices he would have ended up in the hospital. Joshua would force him to eat and drink for the first two weeks. After that it was weaning Michael from the past and could-haves to the here-and-nows. Setting the alarm to go off at 2:45, he opened the closet.

It had been almost a year since he felt a need to open her closet. Even now with this task at hand it was more of a have to rather than a want to. The smell of her perfume wasn’t as strong as it was in the beginning, but stepping in close there was still a slight essence remaining that was calming. Touching each article of clothing brought back a memory. The pink summer dress she was wearing on the day they met eleven years ago, that she planned on making into a quilt along with many other clothes she wanted to keep but were so worn out that it was silly to hold onto them in their original state.

The main item that he always found he had spent most of the time looking at was her wedding dress. Taking the dress off the rod and hanging it on the door hook, he grabbed his drink off of the dresser and sat on the bed looking and reminiscing about the wedding. That lovely fall day that was still warm not yet too crisp outside. Her beautiful blonde hair that was slicked back into a bun with small sunflowers clipped in. Her pearl necklace that sat on her collar bone in such a way that made it seem she was trying to be more seductive than she really was, the look in her green eyes when they exchanged their vows.

“From death ‘til us part, my sweet love. I just can’t part.” Michael whispered as he took a gulping drink from his glass. Wiping the single tear that had fallen from his eye he put the glass down on the dresser again, picked up the items he was given from the dry cleaner, made room on the pole, and hung the items. He turned to the wedding dress, and couldn’t put it away just yet.

Wishing he wouldn’t have been given these items that caused him to open the flood gate that he had closed off for almost a year, he turned his back on the dress and chugged the remaining contents of the glass. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he took a heaving sigh, and hung her dress back on the rod. The alarm clock started ringing, and he closed the door before turning it off.

7

This time there was no thinking about the proper ratio that filled his glass. Like a college frat boy he downed this drink in one chug. The burn of the whiskey felt sweet somehow. He started to pour another drink but thought he should wait until later, after he made his appearance. Walking to the couch he turned on the TV and laid down not listening to anything that was being talked about on the news. Before he knew it his eyes were closed and he started dreaming.

He could feel the tears running down his face. They felt hot against his skin in the cold winter air. The snow was falling lightly now but there was a thick blanket on the ground already. There was only silence. There was no sound of the other mourners expressing their grief, no sound of the breeze, no sound of Joshua’s prayers, just the sound of Michael’s breathing.

Looking to the left, the sea of people were all faces that he didn’t recognize. Trying to focus on any one face the features became fuzzy, and distorted. The harder he tried to focus the more distorted they became.

Looking forward, Joshua was still mutely rambling on with the prayers. Rubbing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, Michael looked to right. There was an empty space save for a figure in a white hooded cloak. Trying to yell there was not a whisper that passed his lips.

Standing from the chair that was seated in front of the freshly dug grave, Michael walked over to the white figure that stood as still as a statue.

Hearing the crunch of the snow beneath his feet was deafening in the silence. Reaching for the figure there was a scream that Michael was sure would rupture his eardrums. Grabbing his ears, the pain was so great he dropped to one knee. When the screaming stopped Michael dropped his hands to his sides and looked behind him. There was no sea of mourners there, but Joshua was still silently praying at the head of the open grave. Looking back at the figure, it now stood facing him. Rising to his feet he faced the figure but couldn’t see the face that was hidden beneath the massive white hood. Finally the words came out with a sound.

“Who are you?” Michael asked. The figure started weeping. Reaching out to raise the hood there was a red spot on the front of the cloak and it began to grow. Throwing back the white hood, Michael stumbled backwards as he looked at the face of the figure. The once beautiful green eyes of Joanna were black pits spewing crimson tears. The frost white shade of her skin only made the black empty sockets blacker, and the crimson tears almost as black. The spot on the cloak spread over the entire torso, running down her arm to her outstretched hand and dripped from her fingernails. Each drop that fell onto the snow sizzled and smelt like burning rotten meat. Overwhelmed with fear of what he was witnessing he tried to scream but again he fell mute. Then she spoke.

“Michael.” She whispered still reaching for him. Hearing her speak broke his heart.

Suddenly the feeling he felt as he watched her life slip away as she died on the synagogue floor over took him. He reached for her hand. When he touched her fingertips her face twisted turning into the most hateful revolting face he had ever seen. She grabbed his wrist digging her blood soaked nails into his flesh. Looking at her face, this thing gnashed its’ teeth shredding the bottom lip, capping its chin in blood. Then it spoke.

“You’re going to die priest, and your God will not save you.” The inhuman voice bellowed.

“I have no God.” Michael screamed. The monster started laughing and let him go. A gust of winter wind blew passed him and shattered this thing in front of him as if it was made of ash. Looking over his shoulder Michael saw Joshua still praying. Walking over and standing in front of him, Michael still couldn’t hear the prayers he was reciting out of the bible. When he was finished he finally looked up from the bible and he met Michael’s gaze. Tears of blood started to fall from his eyes.

“You can’t win if you don’t fight Michael.” Joshua stated. Extending the bible to his friend, Michael accepted it. Taking it from Joshua, Michael saw bloodless gaping holes in Joshua’s palms. Looking at the bible Michael shook his head and dropped it between the two of them.

“There is nothing for me to fight for.” Michael replied. Dropping his head Joshua walked passed Michael and stood on the edge of the open grave. Looking back at Michael, Joshua’s face was calm but solemn.

“There is always something to fight for; it just hasn’t been shown to you yet. But when you see it, you will fail if you don’t prepare. Accept God Michael.” Joshua warned.

“No!” Michael screamed. With his scream echoing against the nothing, Joshua stepped off the edge falling into the open grave. Not believing what he eyes were seeing, Michael closed and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to open them again. Being more afraid of what he wasn’t seeing than what he could see, he opened his eyes. Where once the open grave stood there was only a headstone. Walking close enough to read it, he could only stare.

Michael Joseph

Once beloved child of God died a weak and fallen priest who couldn’t save his wife. What God condemned, darkness welcomed.

“Give in Michael.” A voice from nowhere commanded. Feeling as though the weight of the world was crashing down on him, Michael felt himself choking. Struggling to breathe Michael fell to the ground.