If the surviving Petrans didn’t possess such reverence for the Church, they would’ve crucified me for inflicting such profound suffering upon them. I had promised them magnificent visions of Heaven, and yet my potion had transported them to the deepest pits of Hell.
Whether this was as a result of some unknown defect within my concoction, or sins on their own behalf, I did not yet know.
After giving the survivors time to recover from their pilgrimage—and mourn the dead—I ushered them in small groups to the picturesque church on the hill behind the village square to begin my interviews. Despite the massive tragedy wrought by my experiment, I still needed to procure what information I could from the Petrans about the afterlife. Emperor Constantine fervently awaited my report; he is an impatient man, and one that I didn’t want to anger.
These interviews continued for days, and took such a toll on my mental and physical health that I aged ten years. Never before had my faith in God been tested so rigorously; despair descended over me with each word that tumbled from the Petrans’ mouths. The picture of the afterlife they painted was not only bleak, but cruel, and defied everything that I thought I knew about the Christian faith.
Although I took extensive notes over the Petrans’ revelations, organizing (and then transcribing) these notes would take months. Given the importance of the information that I have to share, I have decided to only convey the high points (so to speak) of my interviews, which form a common narrative.
May God have mercy on our souls.
---
In the immediate moments after their hearts stopped, a red light overcame the Petrans’ senses. They described this red light as originating from inside them, and shuddered when I asked them to elaborate. Rather than give me the detailed description that I desired, all they would say was that the light felt evil. Not only did it send their nerve endings exploding with white-hot pain, but it also inhaled thundering, raspy breaths while yanking them into the abyss.
As their life forces flooded from their bodies, they felt their minds (or possibly souls) detach from corporeality and descend into a dense, black plain. Given that they were now body-less, they were completely immobilized in this plain and subjected to what might best be described as infinite nothingness. According to them, time slowed down almost to a stand-still in this darkness; they went through great lengths to persuade me that they spent the equivalent of dozens of lifetimes wallowing in this abyss, like rocks submerged in a murky lake.
The Bradens seemed like good people. Tim, age 34 was an auto mechanic for a body shop downtown and Natalie, age 29 was a CNA at the local clinic. They lived in a nice two story house just cross the river, with a few acres of land separating them and the nearest neighbors.
When I got to the house, they met me near the garage and went over a few simple instructions for my stay.
“Emergency numbers are on the fridge.” “There’s some microwavable dishes in the pantry.” “Here’s the code for the front door in case you get locked out.” Everything seemed normal at first. Then I asked them where their twins, Joy and Julia; were and they both got stone cold quiet.
Finally Nat found her voice again.
“Upstairs. In their room. You needn’t disturb them.”
Something about the way she said it seemed off. “Are they already asleep?” I asked. I knew the girls couldn’t be older than six or seven, and it wasn’t even past five when I got there. Why were they in their rooms now?
Sorry that it’s been awhile since my last update. The internet here is unreliable at best, completely dead in most rooms and barely a blip even when it does work. I’ve got a signal here but it’s weak. I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to post this after writing it. That doesn’t matter too much, I need the distraction either way. We’re all still shaken up after the hallway. So I’ll keep my eyes open, fixed on the screen of my phone, and I’ll focus on that, on talking to you. That and nothing else.
Let me pick up where I left off. We were all in a daze after Doc was injured. It was surreal, seeing the door slam on it’s own, shearing off the tips of his fingers where he gripped the frame. Then the door was just...gone the moment we all looked away. I tried to convince myself that this could all still be a trick or some insane prank. The sight of Doc’s ruined hands made it difficult to believe this was anything but horrible, unavoidable reality.
Holly was the first to shake herself into action. She slid off her pack and tore through the contents, emerging with a first aid kit. Moving quickly, Holly began disinfecting each of Doc’s injured fingers before wrapping them in gauze and medical tape. The rest of us stood around awkwardly. Josh was staring down at Doc’s hands, Dodger glaring forward at the blank wall where the door used to be. I wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, just ahead in a haze, wondering if drinking the bourbon in my bag would improve or deteriorate the situation. I decided that I didn’t care and brought the bottle out.
Holly’s small hands were swift and efficient.
“Can we help?” Dodger asked.
Holly shook her head. “I’ve got it."
I sat down to watch her work. Dodger and Josh joined me. I passed the bottle around. Holly even spared a moment to take a swig. We all sat on the bare, hardwood floor, watching Holly. It felt a little awkward, Dodger, Josh and me all huddled together while Holly wrapped Doc’s fingers all by herself.
Dodger cleared his throat. “You’re, uh, very good at that,” he told Holly. She nodded tersely but didn’t look up from her work. “Where did you learn...” Dodger trailed off, probably realizing his small talk was only a distraction.
“The army,” Holly replied, eyes never leaving Doc’s hand. “I was a medic. I-”
I’ve been writing for as long as I could remember. Ever since I was a kid, it was my way of escaping the boring reality and immersing myself in the fictional world, which I could create by putting words on paper. From such an early age, I knew that writing was exactly what I wanted to do in life, regardless of whether I’d be doing it for free or for money. Luckily though, through perseverance and hard work, I managed to make it a full-time job for myself and sold thousands of copies thus far.
But self-promotion is not the reason why I’m here. I’m here to tell you about a series of events that happened to me lately, which I can’t quite explain. Recently, strange occurrences have been happening in my life and more and more I’m starting to get convinced that it is more than a coincidence or an unsavory prank. Let me take it from the top.
A week ago, I returned home and found one my books open on my kitchen table. It was my first published book called ‘The struggles of the heart’. The book was a fictional story, but utilized real characters, including myself as the protagonist and the people that I knew. When I glanced at the book, I realized it was open on page 124 and a certain paragraph was highlighted. The paragraph read as:
He opened the envelope and his heart started racing. He reread the lines over and over, darting over them speedily, but no matter how many times he read them, the sentences remained the same. He dropped the envelope and rubbed his eyes, sighing in despair. Although he saw it coming miles away, he didn’t know how he would pick himself up from getting evicted from his apartment. He figured he could stay with his sister for a while, despite their relationship not being so good over the last few years.
The first thing that struck me as odd was the fact that I didn’t remember leaving the book open on this particular page, or even taking it off the shelf, for that matter. I live alone, so no one else could have done it, but I figured that I must have done it unconsciously earlier when I was in a hurry to the dentist and couldn’t find my keys. That still didn’t explain why the paragraph was highlighted, but the book has been sitting here for years, so maybe my ex-wife fiddled with it while we still lived together.
Two days later, I received a letter in my mailbox. On top of the letter, with big, bold letters I saw the title EVICTION NOTICE. I rapidly skimmed through the letter and deduced that the reason for my eviction was not paying rent. This was a mistake though, because I always paid my rent on time, so I decided to go back to my apartment and make a call to fix this right away.
The lady who answered the phone, although very polite and patient, was able to confirm to me that the rent had indeed not been paid and not just that, but apparently, I was late with rent a few consecutive months prior to that and the only reason why I was not evicted was the landlord’s good will. I explained that this must have been some kind of mistake, but the lady confirmed once more that there’s no mistake and that I have three days to move out. Communication with the landlord was impossible as well, since he hired an agency to do everything for him, as he lived outside the country.
After hours of pursuing and trying to fix the problem, I realized that there was no point in fighting and that I would have to look for another apartment. It wasn’t until I started packing and picked up the book again that I remembered seeing the highlighted paragraph from a few days ago. I started thinking that someone was setting me up, or trying to prank me, but I had no idea who would do it. None of my friends had such bad taste in jokes and besides, it didn’t explain how they would be able to get inside my apartment and do such an elaborate thing, all so they could get a kick out of my predicament. Nevertheless, I decided to continue packing and hope that someone would jump in front of me when I stepped out of the apartment and shout ‘got you!’.
*
Two days had gone by and I had already arranged to move in with my sister until I find a new apartment. She was completely okay with me being there as long as I needed and I thanked her for that. I was about to get out of my apartment with my bags packed, when I saw a slip of paper under my door. I picked it up and realized that I was staring at a page from my book. It said:
2I have been out of my house for a few days and upon my return earlier, I found things a bit… different. I could not immediately locate any physical evidence to substantiate this theory; it was more of a feeling. Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you? I get it all the time. I'd been unpacking my things for about a half hour before I found an unanticipated letter scrawled on a half sheet of paper left in one of my kitchen drawers. I glanced around the room warily several times before reading it.
Hello darling,
I see you are packing your things up… I hope you are not planning on moving. I do think I overheard you talking to someone on the phone about leaving only for a few days, though, so I thought I’d fix a special surprise for your homecoming. A scavenger hunt! Here is your first clue:
When it’s time to get some rest
You get so comfy in your nest
But what about your special guest -
At nighttime where does he like best?
Good luck. I know you can do it!
I must confess that the contents of this letter sent a chill down my spine. I can’t quite tell you what drove me to actually search for the next clue instead of turning on my heels and sprinting out the door, but I proceeded to the bedroom. Clearly, my nest was my bed – simple enough. I was a little discouraged when I did not discover the next clue upon or alongside my bed until I realized that I was meant to find his preferred resting place. I checked the closet, the far corner of my room, everywhere. Finally, it clicked. Holding my breath, I extended one hand to feel underneath my bedframe… and ripped the next clue from beneath it.
You found me! One step closer to your prize. :) My favorite nights are spent down here with you. Listening to your breaths, steady and peaceful… feeling the bed settle above me as you shift in your sleep… it’s the closest thing to heaven on earth. Once I even reached up with a pair of scissors and snipped off a few strands of your hair. I kept the clippings in my mouth for days. You didn’t even miss it, I promise. Here’s your next clue:
Imagine all 7.7 billion people on Earth stop everything they’re doing. Imagine the clouds swirling, creating a vortex, simultaneously all over the world. Imagine the light peaking through, so warm, so golden, so... pure.
And then suddenly, everything was right.
It came so swiftly, and left just as quick. Barren lands were now fertile, the water was cleaned, the air was freshened. Like a new beginning for Earth. And oh the celebration, the sweet sweet celebration of being saved. Suddenly, each act of war was put on hold, every battle, every negotiation was paused to celebrate this second chance.
Forests that were burned were now green and standing tall. Bodies of water were clear, healthy, and full of life. The Coral Reef had color again. The air was pure, not a trace of toxic gasses. It was truly like paradise to see all that had been destroyed, restored.
But it didn’t stop there.
Once again, the vortex of clouds reformed. And everyone stopped, waiting for the next miracle. There was a faint chirping sound, one that had not been present before. A bird. An unknown bird. Except, it wasn’t unknown, as it was quickly identified as “endangered”. Officials rushed to the zoos, explorers raced to the forests and jungles, oceanographers quickly started their machines and...
They were back. Thousands of endangered species, back in their habitats like they never left. Like they were never hunted, like their homes were never destroyed, like they were... healthy.
This new... entity, this miracle. It has heard humanity’s cry for help, for a way to reverse the damage inflicted upon the planet. And it has listened.
But it was cut short.
As the vortex reappeared a voice came with it, projecting it’s message to everyone, everywhere, in every language.
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Mar 24, 2010
Cake Day
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