Two Steps

Standing in the doorway of an abandoned church, I took two steps outside and welcomed the night. Embracing the darkness, feeling it wrap itself around me like a shroud. How was it possible that those two steps would change my life?

I always had an active imagination, or so I’ve been told. Frightened of things that lurk under my bed, ghosts in the closet, basically, a typical child’s life at night. Who am I kidding? I’m thirty-one years old and I still have that imagination. Hence the invite from a friend for tonight’s party, a friend who never showed up.

I didn’t know a soul here and had grown weary of the evenings event, another gathering. This one a, period piece - murder mystery, in which we were all required to dress for our part. I was Wearing an 18th century double-breasted vest and coat made of fine wool; it was hot and heavy. Ever since the pandemic was officially announced as over, people felt the urge or the need to escape the confines of their self-imposed prisons and introduce themselves back into society. But seriously one, Covid Free In 2023, party after another, it was too much. Ok, this one was a little different, instead of a house, our host managed to hold it in an old, forgotten church.

I bummed a cigarette from another guest, which was odd because I don’t smoke, never have. I just needed and excuse to go outside. I found myself walking among the neglected tombstones of the church’s cemetery. A full moon illuminated the grounds, casting eerie shadows across the graves. Dark fingers reaching out, clawing at abandoned headstones and caressing the overgrown lawn.

An unlit cigarette in one hand and a glass of delicate, red Merlot in the other. My mind wandered, wondering how long I should stay, contemplating my choices in life that led me here. A single man, with a good paying job but no future. I was one of the few who enjoyed self-isolation, it gave me a chance to write, my real passion in life. Unfortunately, it does not pay the bills, so I work in a dead-end job, wanting more out of life. Feeling more at home amongst the dead than with the living.

I breathed in deeply, taking in the evening scent. Music from the party floated on the air, blending with the melodic sounds of natures nightly choir. I closed my eyes, lost in the symphony of life, sipping on the merlot. It was heaven.

Why then, did I feel like my life was hell?

I needed a change.

“Are you lost” A voice broke through the night, startling me back to reality.

Spinning around, I saw no one, just silhouetted trees and headstones. Slowly an ethereal vision appeared, stepping out of the shadows and solidifying in the moonlight. Her beauty was beyond anything I had ever seen before, blonde hair arranged in a loose bun, stray locks falling about her shoulders. She stood there before me, regal, a light blue empire dress flowing across her body, like mist across the water, a see-through shawl embracing her neck and draped around her forearms.

“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.” I replied.

I think she liked that, because she gave me a devilish smile, perhaps it was more of a smirk. She glided towards me, a drifting cloud.

In a soft voice she asked. “Why are you outside, are you not enjoying the party?”

“I’m enjoying the party just fine, I felt like I needed some fresh air.”

Glancing at my hand, she gave me another smirk, “I always find it fascinating when people who smoke often say they are stepping out for fresh air.”

Seeing the cigarette in my hand I stuttered, “What? Oh no, I don’t smoke. I don’t even carry a lighter.” With that I flung that filthy thing away from me.

Her head swiveled in the direction of the tossed item, turning to me she said, “So, now you are littering?”

I could see this conversation was not going well for me. Casually strolling to the area, squinting my eyes trying to spot the discarded trash. I set my glass of wine on top of a tombstone, got on my hands and knees and began to search along the ground.

“Cold” she stated.

I looked up “What?”

“Where you are looking, you’re cold.”

Ah, the old game of hotter, colder, got it. “Can you at least point me in the right direction?”

“What’s the fun in that.” She smiled or was that another God damn smirk?

Moving to my left, I felt around by a headstone, where the weed choked grass grew tall.

“Warmer.”

“Wow, you sure are helpful.” I said, praying she heard the sarcasm. If so, she didn’t seem to care.

“Hotter.”

I discovered some dead flowers and something that was soft and wet, I would prefer not to know what it was.

“You are on, fire.”

Why did she say fire, that way? it sounded creepy.

I found it, on top of the soft, mushy substance. Picking it up, I rose to my feet and held the prized item up for her to see. “Ta, Da.” I said victoriously.

She clapped her hands and said, “Now, what are you going to do with it?”

Back to square one, I looked at the tombstone and read out loud, “Clarence Holly.”

Turning to my mystery women I asked, “Do you think ole Clarence here was a smoker?”

Approaching slowly, standing beside me, she smelled like the air after a rainstorm. Peering at the grave, she said, “Clarence here passed away in 1964, I think it would be safe to assume he was a smoker, weren’t they all back then?”

I agreed, and dug a little hole beside ‘Clarence’, placed the unused butt in it and covered it back up with dirt. “Here you go Clarence, have a smoke on me.”

She gave a little giggle and said, “That was very kind of you.”

Dusting my hands on my pants, I held out my hand and introduced myself. “I’m Wolfgang.”

I got that stare I always do after introductions.

“Seriously, that is my name.” I shrugged.

“Were you named after Mozart?”

“No” I replied, “My parents have a warped sense of humor. “

She accepted my hand saying, “I’m Victoria, my parents don’t have a single funny bone in their body.”

We stood in silence, I no longer had anything to do, but stare at her. Seriously, she took my breath away. She had this ancient, classic beauty aura about her.

“Would you like to go back into the party?” I asked.

“No.” she responded, rather hastily “I need to stay out in the moonlight, for a little while longer.”

“Ok, I’m good with that. How about I run in and grab us a couple of drinks.”

She smiled, took my hand and said, “Follow me.”

And follow I did, I can’t even begin to explain the feeling I had just holding her hand, it was like, we were walking out of this world, and into one that included only us.”

We strolled along a stone path that led to a little Gazebo, tucked in a corner of the yard. Two steps up and we entered. Lit candles graced the rails, on a bench, set to the side, was a blanket and a wine glass. She walked over, removed two bottles of wine from a box marked ‘Bright Cellars’.

“I came prepared.” She spoke.

Realizing I left my wine back by the grave. I spoke, “I seemed to have misplaced my glass.”

“No worries.” She topped up her glass and passed me the bottle saying, “Here you go, or would you prefer a paper bag wrapped around it.”

I laughed, No, I only drink Champagne like that. I am good swilling back a fine wine straight out of the bottle.”

I accepted the wine, an ‘Emmolo’ Napa Valley Merlot. Classy.

We sat side by side on the bench, wrapped in the blanket. Sharing stories and laughing, mostly at my expense. I found out she was an old soul, she loved classical music, reading books. She preferred to write letters by hand, and she loved evening walks.

Victoria explained why old church yards had cemeteries. The newly departed needed to be interred on sacred soil if their souls were to be welcomed in heaven. She also clarified that burials grounds on church soil are called graveyards, outside the church’s boundaries, it is called a cemetery.

I felt more comfortable thinking of it as a Cemetery rather than a graveyard. The word grave is so final.

After some time, I had to do a very ungentlemanly thing in front of a lady, on a first date. Yes, I was considering this a first date.

I needed to relieve my bladder. Excusing myself I got up, walked over to a tree and did my thing. Clouds floated across the night sky, allowing a beam of moonlight to pierce through the darkness, illuminating a headstone with a little black bird carving. I read the name engraved on it and froze. I could not move, my throat became swollen, my tongue dry.

From behind I heard Victoria’s voice, calling out for me. Was I gone too long?

I slowly turned and saw her, radiating in the moonlight. “Are you Ok?” she asked.

I couldn’t believe it, the signs where there, the way she moved, her likes and interests, her wish to remain in the moonlight.

“What’s Wrong?” she whispered.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“Longer than I anticipated.” She replied.

My head was pounding.

Gazing at her, I slowly stepped back and pointed to the tombstone. “Is this you?” I felt as if I were about to pass out.

Victoria became still, her eyes lit up, burning into my soul. I felt my very essence being sucked out of my body, draining me. I was weakening. The world began to spin out of control.

Victoria laughed.

I shivered.

She laughed again, uncontrollably. She began to convulse in a fit that shook her entire body. Laughing so hard that she fell to the ground. Sitting there looking up at me in a hysterical fit. She finally managed to gather her breath and said something that would haunt me to the very end of my days.

“You think I’m a ghost?” She sputtered.

I nodded.

This brought on another bought of uncontrolled laughter. Standing up she walked over to the grave and pointed to the name, etched in stone.

“You, really think I am Victoria Cotsbottom?”

“It’s Possible.” I ventured.

She was laughing so hard, tears flowed freely from her face.

Slapping my shoulder, she cried out “Victoria Cotsbottom, 1833- 1864.”

Rubbing my shoulder, I Shrugged.

She composed herself after a moment, shaking her head, and spoke.

“I am Victoria Schuller, you poor delusional moron. This is my party.” Grabbing me by my shirt she leaned in and kissed me. “Thank you, for giving me one of the best nights I have had in a long time.”

We talked and laughed some more that night, again, mostly at my expense. Dawn was approaching, dew began forming upon the leaves and grass. We gathered the blanket, the empty bottles of Merlot and walked back to the church.

As dawns first light caressed the sky, a bird cried out, and we disappeared through the morning mist.

That was the last anyone from the party saw me. Except the odd sighting from someone who thought they recognized me. Claiming later it was but a shadowy form of a person they once met.

In truth, it was because I didn’t know anyone from the party. Plus, shortly after that night, Victoria and I eloped. We settled down, moved to the suburbs, bought a home and had three children.

Seriously, who has time to go out and party once you have a family. Life is exhausting.