Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Are you there or do I have to go looking for you Travis I don't want this to be difficult don't make it hard for me if I have to go looking for you I'll be angry you don't want to see me angry trust me you don't! Make it easier for both of us don't hide I'll find you anyway I've been dead longer than you I know all the tricks I'll find you sooner or later and then we'll play have fun play forever! Traaaaavisssss

The thing takes a step up the first flight, and he can hear her pumps thumping on the carpet.

Travis shivers and slumps down at the far end of the room. There really is no far end of the room, the door is in the center of the room's front wall, but he corners himself by the window. That, at least, if nothing else, might afford a slim chance of escape.

His whole body, dressed only in shorts, is starting to sweat. Cold gallons of sweat leak from his pores like a squeezed sponge. He shudders and his teeth begin to chatter. The sweat puddles underneath him in a wet, invisible pool. Travis wraps his arms around himself, feeling the tremors of her advancing steps straight through his aching bones; he begins to blubber, then weep hysterically. A soothing liquid warms him, and Travis realizes he's just pissed himself.

It is all (unraveling) coming together, now. The dream is happening.

Go away, he shouts through his mind, knowing she will hear him. Leave me alone! Haven't you done enough? You tormented me, ruined my marriage, and then you kidnapped my wife! Can't you leave me already that I'm dead? Can't you let the dead rest in peace? GO AWAY!

For a moment, the footsteps pause. They are on the top stair of the first flight, waiting on the landing, their eyes still looking up in mischief. There is no sound except his piteous sobbing, and the silence was even worse than her footsteps. He imagined the thing taking off her shoes and advancing on all fours over the carpet. Oh, can you see her teeth, can you see her eyes?

And then she begins to laugh. It fills his body with needles of ice, making him shiver and (oh it hurts it hurts so bad stop!) and tremble and feel that his whole body is breaking up from fear and cold and the gooseflesh tearing his skin apart.

Go away? Oh, but why, Travis? You haven't seen me yet?

His answer comes quivering, but defiant. Desperate.

Yes, I have! I've seen you in my dreams, you devil! I've seen you in dreams every fucking night! Go away!

Be quiet Travis take what's coming to you what's coming to you all unraveled torturing your wife now it's your turn take it take it what's coming to you I want to show you my fingers!

Travis can say and do nothing as he feels her ascend, humming. Travis pushes himself deeper into the corner as she comes over the top and moves down the hallway. She pauses outside the door, pacing in her heels a few steps back and forth like a predator trying to find a way out of its cage—or in. The humming is louder, and she is outside the room—oh my God she's right outside the door oh please help me she's right outside.

By the time he feels her enter the room, Travis has no more tears to shed. Empty. He can do nothing but try to dig himself further into the wall.

The thing comes in and stands before him, neither disgusted nor gleeful nor anything at all when her heels step into the urine-soaked carpet around him. Travis huddles, shivering, daring not to look at anything but the few inches of naked shins between the pumps and the hemline of the coat. He dares not look up. If his eyes meet hers, and he sees...he does not know what will happen, but he fears it.

Casio on the table before the now bluing corpse of himself says, 6:05.

The sun in the window behind him begins to rise.

The giant sphere that is the sign and symbol for joy and victory and all that is good and righteous has not yet broken the still foggy line of the horizon, but the first slivers of golden light pierce through bright and victorious, slicing through the fog and the tinted glass of his window, lighting upon her cloak and up her body and head, pouring even into the shadows of her hidden features. The woman's hands come from her pockets, smooth and white with slender fingers of red-painted nails that are normal, so normal he feels like crying all over again, a few streaks of random blood along her arms visible as she reaches them up to remove her hood.

The hood falls back, golden hair cascading out with the same radiance of the sun, her face shining down on him from behind white rows of straight teeth and smiling with love and fondness and yearning and sorrow.

And then she drops the coat altogether. It falls to the ground and vanishes into a puff of smoke.

Travis sees her and can say nothing. The fear is consumed by love and wondering and joy—sheer joy and gratefulness. The questions will come later. For now, there is only gratitude. She has returned.

"Forgive me, my love," Karen Vernon says to her husband, still huddling in the corner and crying from the lingering grip of fear and the first tips of joy and longing and relief. "The deception was necessary for my own safety, and to assure myself that you were still who you were." Travis can say nothing, his face stained and stained again with tears and spittle that had fallen, dried, then been wet again. "Stand by me, my husband, and let us watch the sun rise."

Travis rises and stands by his wife. Together, they watch the sun break over the horizon, rising and burning and glorious in the full strength of its power.

14

"Do you love me, Travis?"

They swim in the pool, neither disturbing the water nor touching each other. She has not let him. The morning sun truly is magnificent in the clear water—even more so as the water remains clear and ripple-less as air.

"Of course, Karen," he replies with quiet adoration. "Why would you even ask?"

She does not answer his question. "Would you rather a life happy by yourself or painful eternity with me by your side?"

His mind goes into a sudden spin. What is she saying: 'painful eternity with her'? What does that mean?

"It's a thorny question you pose to me, darling. Why would you ask such a—"

"It's simple, Travis," she hisses. He springs back at her sudden viciousness. "Do you, or do you not want to be with me anymore? Do you love me, or would you rather be happy on your own? Could you be happy on your own?"

"I...I love you, Karen. Nothing is ever going to change that. I would do anything for you. You know that. But—"

He looks into her eyes, seeing the coldness in them flash at him like embedded splinters, and falling silent, he knows. At that point, somehow, all else put aside, he knows.

"They told me fourteen days, Travis," she says quietly. "Two weeks. If I had not conceived by then, they would kill us both." She is cowering in the corner of the pool, not from him, but from her memories. Travis doesn't dare go near her. She has warned him. "I couldn't do it, Travis, I couldn't betray you and let them...let them have me that way." Even from his distance, he can see she is crying.

"But how did you resist them? How did you fight them?"

"No," she says, sniffing, "you don't understand. Normally, they...it...it is done forcefully...sec...secured to...oh...and they...they do what it is that they—"

Karen bursts into tears again. Travis swims to her. He wants to comfort her, take her in his arms, tell her that the story needs no telling. She is back with him and that is all that matters. He gets as far as standing in the chest-deep water next to her. He is near enough to her that she feels the water turn warm. She lashes out and darts away quick as a frightened mermaid, her face flushing from tears to rage.

"I said stay away, Travis!" Then she looks sorry for her outburst. "Let me finish first."

Travis nods. "All right."

"My mother told you much, but there were things she withheld." She looks down, as if ashamed. "My father sits in the inner circle, so there were dignities left me as his eldest daughter. The council agreed that none would harm me, but that I would be kept in a cell and be cared for. Nevertheless, if by the end of the two weeks, if I had not met their requirements, then we would be put to death just the same. Even for a prince's daughter, they have no mercy."

"Prince?" but she carries on. He thinks of his darling Karen locked away in a dank, underground dungeon—Gothic, rat-infested—and shivers, though the water is warm.

"I thought of it for the first few days. I didn't want to see you hurt, so I honestly contemplated...I entertained the option." She is trying hard not to cry again. "But after the third day, I saw it in all their eyes. There was no love or mercy. I couldn't understand why they hated me so much. What had I done? I never did anything to them, and yet...and these could well have been my brothers or cousins. I knew then that I could never go to them willingly. I told my father he might as well kill me there and then, but he would have none of it. He said they would wait till the close of the fourteenth day, and if I had not done as they commanded, he would end my life himself. He promised it swift and painless, but there was no love there either."

"Even if you had...tried, how would they know if you were pregnant? —Or that it was even your time?"

"They have their ways," is all she said. There is a long, warm silence between them, then, "I just couldn't do it, Travis. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, darling." The horror of it all is still settling. "I love you," he manages to say. "I always will." And when he says it, there is that sense of impending doom—the feeling that his phrase has sealed both their fates.

"Then decide," she says, walking out of the pool to the center of the lawn. The sun is high already. Travis guesses the Casio would say, 10:30, with the other him starting to stink already, perhaps. He remembers what she has asked him. An eternity of torment with me, or that of joy without, is what it all boiled down to. But there is nothing to decide. Travis Born has already made his decision. How much worse could it get?

Much, much worse oh yes don't trust her Travis don't—

That twitch of doubt comes again, the fleeing glimpse through his mind of what an eternity might mean, and how anything could happen—but that mostly, he knows what will. That feeling of everything unraveling and coming down about him, and him screaming to be let out of this, to go, just run and flee to wherever forever to get out of here and make it stop oh make it stop, but then he speaks, cutting off the horn of warning, and their fates are sealed.

Though he consciously knows everything she'd just told him in the pool is a complete lie, Travis makes his decision.

Love is strong, but it also stupid.

"I choose you, Karen Vernon Born," he says, and she stops in her tracks, facing away from him.

The sunlight gleams off her wet, beautifully white and naked body. He gets out of the pool and goes to her, slowly, keeping distance.

"I chose you two years and two weeks ago, and I choose you now. I choose you for eternity." Her arms are by her side, head pointed down. He can see she is smiling. "What is it I must do?"

Karen turns around instantly and there is nothing but relief and joy in her face. Her eyes are glassy with emotion. She smiles, joyful tears spilling from her face (But Travis thinks perhaps the tears were to hide something else in those eyes). She looks at him, turning full around, holding out her arms to him. He is still several steps away, but closes that in an instant.

"Then come to me, Travis," she says, overflowing with emotion. "Come to me and love me."

Travis born does as he is bid. He runs to his wife, kisses her, and that is the end.

It all happens as he had seen in his first dream and every dream after that. The moments their bodies touch, warmed by each other's embrace, her breasts pressing against his chest, nipples hard as pencil erasers from the cool breeze—and then he feels her body twitch and jerk.

The sky is the first to go. It turns instantly black as if someone had dropped a hood over the sun. There isn't a trace left of the former light that had once lit their world. It is all thick, palpable darkness. And then the moon comes out from the far horizon, rising and burning in a rapid, unreal speed. There is nothing beautiful or romantic or enthralling about this moon. It is a deep blue sphere enhancing the fact that this horror is indeed reality, and from where there will be no waking.

The city and every other house disappear as a thick stench of fog swathes the city, and the couple stand alone in the garden, walled off from every other thing and existence and dimension—trapped within their own traitorous, hungry walls. Eternally.

There isn't a sound. No sound of crickets nor night creatures, only the killing stillness of waiting and watching and the moon looking down on them like a giant demon's eye, and laughing. Yes, though they cannot hear it with their ears, it fills their souls like a cancer—that incessant laughter, growing louder and louder.

Travis isn't surprised when he sees that the ground floor of his house is now reduced to a ramshackle of wet ash and charred remains, smooth and oily as fast-food pasta. The carpet grass is a muddy quagmire that seeps up to their ankles with black, jelly-like mush.

The grass wriggles under their naked soles.

He turns to the pool, and the feeling that fills him is more sadness than horror. Its walls have broken in, and it is filled with mud from its banks. Rotting logs and debris cover its surface like scales. Even if he has eternity, Travis knows he will never step near those waters.

Behind the line of their walls and fence, trees sprout from the ground, breaking through the mud and shooting up till they disappear into the darkness of the sky, growing till their trunks breast each other with barely a hand's width gap between them. Ugly, gnarled trees with leave-less branches that reach out into the property like clutching arms, invisible shapes in the bark that change into screaming faces and dark eyes. And that is when Travis and Karen know there will be no escape. They are here for good. Here eternally. Lastly, the fog rolls in like waves of sea but without that charm or comfort that is the sea. It comes in cold and stagnant, sifting through the trees and gate like the smoke of a forest fire, coming in a way that says it will not be going anywhere—ever.

Back up in their cold, dark room, the body is gone from the bed, and the clock's glow burns at 3:13. The colon between the numbers does not blink. It is frozen. It glows green and eerie with a light that suggests its power will never die. At least the Swiss had been honest.

Karen and Travis hold each other, not crying, not fainting or screaming. It is best to keep your wits at a time like this. They know they were not alone. The screaming and running will start, and when it does it will last for eternity. Better save your strength. From behind the concealing clouds of pale blue fog, they can hear things moving.

"It could be worse," she says, holding him with trembling arms, trying to break a smile but not succeeding.

"No," he says. "I don't think it can really get any worse than this."

And somehow, she feels he is right.

Wanna bet? A voice taunts, but they do not hear it. Or choose not to.

"Eternity," she whispers, this time not trying to smile.

"Yes. Till Judgment Day, at least."

"Since when did you believe in that?" he is glad for her smile.

"Well, the thought of eternity does make you hope of other prospects." He sighs, looking out at nothing. "That's all we have. Hope."

"Don't count on it, darling."

She lied, Travis. Everything she said in the pool was a lie, and you know it!

Yes, I do. But I love her.

Karen turns and looks up at her husband, remembering. Remembering how they had tortured her and strapped her to the altar and torn the clothes from her body. How they had raped her again and again, those eager followers of Ralesh lining up by the dozens and hundreds to sample their bit of the proud royalty and do their duty to the cult. She remembers how the old witches had found her with child on the third night and were indeed surprised. But they had no love for a renegade princess. The torment went on till the end of the fourteenth day, and only then did they announce to the council that 'Lady Karthenon Argentia Vernonne has bowed to the will of The Ralesh.'

Lady Karen Vernonne had ended her life that night.

She had dressed in what they had given her for the trial, doused a cloak over her again, and then simply walked into an abyss. There were plenty of them. That was the advantage of being held underground. The wheels were already in motion, she knew, and by the time she got back to Moswich Hilltop, they would have already killed her husband. They'd never have let him live.

It's all his fault! He knew this was going to happen, yet he never warned me. He was selfish! And he dares to say he loves me? I won't have any of it. I won't even contemplate further, lest my soft mind gives in.

Karen closes her eyes and concentrates.

Eternity is a long time, and as he says, it does make you think of other possibilities. And there's the baby to think of. Oh, God. The baby. To be born here.

She knows it will not be human, and that nothing in this place can be killed. She thinks of carrying a demon-child that cannot be terminated, and how it had been necessary to outright lie to Travis in the pool. She thinks of that and her agony in the dungeons and temple, blaming Travis for everything that has happened.

And as she does, her straight blonde hair darkens to a filthy dishwater hue, curling, and then her fingers begin to grow.

Jesse De Rozario

Singapore, March 2004

*

Copyright © 2006 De Rozario Jesse

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