“He,” I slowly repeated, “He told you.” The words came out slowly as if my face was frozen, and more like a statement than a question.
“Yes,” came her reply, and nothing else.
More silence as I absorbed what this could mean. Millions of neurons seemed to be crashing into each other in my brain as random and crazy thoughts flew. “How?”, “Who the hell is he!”, “Why?”… “He wanted me to come here, I was brought here by him. I was brought here by him?” All these thoughts, plus a thousand others, whisking through my brain like eggs being beaten. And the feelings. The fear, the worry, the anxiety. The feeling of loss of control, the feeling of hopelessness. The longing for my life back and the almost paralyzing fear that it is gone forever.
What was happening to me? I had a great life, I was happy. I had friends, I had a good career. I was motivated, I was inspired. I was active. I enjoyed life. Now, I was wearing gloves so I didn’t accidentally kill anyone. It was like some cosmic magician pulled the table cloth out from under the plate, and I was the plate that falls shattering on the floor. I wondered what it could all possibly mean. Then I had an even more terrifying thought – what if there was no meaning? What if it was all just some random bad luck situation, and there was no answer. If there is no answer, then there is no…no cure.
I have no idea how long I sat there, staring into space and contemplating my new world. It seemed like only a moment, but I knew it was longer than that because when I came back to the moment, Desdemona was gone.
I stood up, and slowly moved towards the door back to the shop. As I did, something caught my eye. There appeared to be something tucked behind the picture frame with photo of the boy. I moved closer and saw yes, there was a little piece of paper tucked behind it. I moved over and lifted the frame, and then pulled out from the back a folded piece of yellowing paper. I almost knew what it would read before my eyes saw it. In an ancient looking handwriting, almost a gothic script, was my name. Allison Walker. And nothing else.
As I stood there staring at the paper, I heard some commotion and talking in the shop. Des must have gotten a customer while I was in my mini-trance. I put the photo and the paper on the desk, and went into the shop. I expected to see a tourist perusing the potions and angels, but stopped in my tracks when I saw… I saw him. It was him. The boy, the little boy with the dead eyes. Des and the boy were deep in conversation and didn’t notice me. There was a third person there too, an older man who was wearing all black. A priest maybe? I couldn’t be sure.
All of these weeks, I had no clue what had happened. And now, there he was. Right in front me. I could have all the answers I wanted to my myriad of questions: Who are you? What did you do to me? Why are you here now? How did you know I would be here? But instead of facing him and getting the answers, I was suddenly terrified. I had the feeling of being trapped. The blood in my veins ran ice cold. I felt as if I might faint. Suddenly, I needed to escape. I didn’t know why, but I knew I had to run again. I knew I was in terrible danger. I quietly stepped back into the office, and scanned the room for an exit. There was no door, but there was a tiny window. Unfortunately, it looked too small for me to fit through. I had to go back out into the shop. I knew there had to be a back door emergency exit somewhere. I just had to be quiet and not let them see me.
I peeked back out, and they were still talking, in a hushed little circle. They were very focused on the conversation, and it looked as though I had a chance. I ducked, and slowly and quietly moved towards the back of the shop. I saw the door. It had an alarm sign on it, but I figured once I pulled it and it rang, I would be gone. They could not catch me. I walked to the door. My palms were sweaty. My head was tingling. I put my hand on the door latch, and went to pull it. But my arm wouldn’t move. Like an out of body experience, my arm seemed disembodied from the rest of me. I wanted to leave, desperately wanted to flee. But I was frozen. Like a soldier in a mine field, there was a threat in every direction. Stay and face the doom in that shop. Leave, and never understand what is happening.
At that dizzying moment, I let my hand release the door latch. I knew. I suddenly knew. I could not leave. I had to face him. I felt it, in my gut. I had to stay and I had to hear the story. But as I turned to walk back towards them, the odd out of body experience broadened. I could no longer keep my body standing. I was weak, and slid down the wall and folded to the floor. I exhaled loudly as I hit the floor, and that is when they all saw me. They came running… perhaps they thought I was trying to escape. But I wasn’t. I knew now who I was and why I was there. I knew in my soul that my life as I had known it was gone forever. What happened next was just a formality.
As they approached me, they seemed very calm. They did not seem to be the same threat to me that I had perceived only moments earlier. Instead, they seemed to be more like shepherds to guide me, to bring me to where I needed to be. To make my soul whole.
There was no going back. There was only going forward.
They got to where I was sitting. The boy with the dead eyes was in front of me, so close I could touch him. I could not move though, and the only thing I could do was stare at him. Gaze into his black, soulless eyes. There was such a power in those eyes, a compelling and controlling energy as nothing I had ever imagined. He was a young boy, but he seemed to be a thousand years old. He had an ancient presence about him that was undefinable. All this time, all I wanted was this moment. But now that it was here, all I could do was sit and stare. My eyes started to well up with tears. I wasn’t crying, yet tears flooded down my cheeks. In one instant, I both knew my future and at the same time, felt like a child entering the universe for the very first time.
He held his pale arm out to me, and offered me his hand. Des stood close by, clutching the pendant around her neck. She wore an expression of peace and hope.
He finally spoke to me.
“Are you ready?” was all he asked.
“Yes,” was all I replied.
Then, I took his hand and I was gone.
END TAG PART 9
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