by Erin Trampler Bell.
~~~
“I’ll fly away, fly away, oh glory
I’ll fly away (in the morning)
When I die, hallelujah by and by
I’ll fly away…”
~~~
She lay in the bed, tubes in her arms and her nose, so many machines buzzing and binging around her. She was tired of the binging. But she was not yet ready for silence.
“I’m not afraid of you, after all. After all these years, I thought I would be. But now I have looked you in the face, I don’t feel what I felt then. That has passed.”
The robed figure said nothing, simply looking at her.
“The thing is, I always had these… dreams. Tornadoes. Spiders. Holocausts. Skeletons. My teeth, falling out, rotting before my eyes. And there were the gunshots. So many gunshots. I was lying in my own blood, watching the world speed up around me as my existence slowed. They say you can’t die in a dream and survive in real life, but I did. I died… so many times in my dreams. And so many times I woke, excruciatingly, the next day, having known the fear and loneliness of dying.”
The figure hovered. An odd warmth emanated from it, filling the room with the scent of flowers–living flowers, heaving their breath into the air. Her eyes were closed, but she saw a multitude of flowers.
“But then, not so long ago, a matter of days… I had one dream where a monster, a lumbering, horrific creature–almost like Frankenstein–was clambering around rooftops after me.
“I had climbed a building, an old Victorian style house in a London slum, trying to escape the monster. And he followed me up on the rooftops, and he chased me. And I leaped from rooftop to rooftop. I gripped the gutters with my fingers, holding on for everything I was worth. And pulling myself up, I had a strength I never knew before. I ran from that monster. I ran for everything that I thought I was worth. Even in the greatest pain I had, I ran. I sprinted across the rooftops, my long, silver hair trailing in the wind generated from my own running.”
The figure reached out a hand, as if to caress the last few wisps of hair that protruded on the ravaged head. But it hesitated.
“I love silver. I remember how I resisted my hair changing for so long. But then, as a child, I always wanted to sparkle. I did. I loved things that sparkled. I wanted glitter on everything. I wanted the shine as a part of me. It took me such a long time to understand that the change in my hair was my body’s way of sparkling. And then, I loved it so…”
The figure lowered its hand. It waited.
“But as the monster pursued me, I grew tired. So tired. The running was worth it, but there comes a point when you have to stop, face the darkness.”
The figure was completely still. It absorbed every word.
“Suddenly, I was on a dock, no longer fleeing over rooftops. A ship stood behind me. I turned to look at it, and when I turned back, the monster stood there.
“He gazed at me with the deepest empathy. It was almost a longing. As if only to be understood.”
The figure shifted, watching, waiting.
“And then I did it. It was as natural as breathing. I stepped forward. I reached for him. And I embraced him.”
She gasped, the breath coming shorter now. The figure waved a hand, and her breath eased for just a moment.
“His touch was not what I thought it would be. There was so much love. The monster was not angry, not terrifying anymore. He was trying to tell me he had love. But his appearance was so frightening, I didn’t want to listen.
“He embraced me with such tenderness. And when we let go, I knew it would be okay. As long as I was there with that very feeling, it would be okay.”
She gasped again, and paused. It wouldn’t be long now. The figure hovered still, wondering if she would breathe again. The silence was as the rest in a piece of music that defines the next moment of ecstasy. Then, another gasp.
“When he let go, I was ready. I turned to the ship, and I wasn’t afraid to board it anymore.
“I turned to look at him one last time. And he wasn’t a monster. He was just there, no bigger than I, gazing at me, wanting to be understood. Through his terrifying grimace, I could see his smile. It was comfort.”
Her breath came easier now, but lighter, shallower. The figure raised a hand again.
“And as I turned toward the ship again, I knew there was no reason to look back. It was the journey that was worth it. And I didn’t know where I was going, but I went. I left the monster behind. And the monster did not mourn. And as alone as I was, I was not lonely.
“I am not afraid of you, after all. In fact, I love you.”
Her eyes fluttered. Her pulse, briefly, quickened. And then, in an imperceptible moment, the breath left her, as mysteriously as it had entered her at the beginning of the chase. After a moment, the binging ceased. All was silent.
The figure, hovering, breathed a deep, cleansing sigh. The room was filled with the scent of living flowers.
~~~
“When the shadows of this life have gone
I’ll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I’ll fly
I’ll fly away…”
~~~
*This story was inspired by the life–and death–of Philip Gould. May he have found his freedom. http://vimeo.com/40581476
The lyrics at the beginning and end of the story are from a traditional gospel song by Albert E. Brumley.