Authors: Janice Hadden
Tristan
had mentioned that fact awhile ago, and not until now, that it really
sunk in
why
his change of
heart
toward humans were
too significant—too important for the dephils to simply let go.
After
a few more interrogations, Constantine stayed in the living room and
I suddenly found myself in the kitchen, caught up on my tangled
thoughts, traveling to the silent war that’s been raging.
I
decided to go upstairs to Tristan’s bedroom. I lied in
his
bed, hoping I‘d
calm myself from anxiety. But the dull, gray sheets only felt empty
and cold. Oh how I wanted to be in Tristan‘s arms right now—my
skin against his.
There
were many things in our world that I didn‘t have an answer for,
things I haven‘t completely processed yet. Humans living in the
world of immortals and immortals living in the world with humans.
Tristan…how would that be like for him? How has it been like
for him? Surely, it wouldn’t be difficult. People were
attracted to him. He had many talents.
He
knew how the world worked. He had access to people’s emotions,
their ideas, their talents, their skills. He could be anybody if he
choose to. But money didn’t seem to play a big role or any
material things in his existence. I suppose when you have access to
everything, there was no need to care. Angels weren’t subjected
to humanly desires such as keeping up with the Jones’. They
were above and beyond that. They had seen enough life and death to
know that nothing is permanent. Anything that men acquired in life
they couldn’t take into their graves—except of course
him, who had lived longer than any human. What a cruel punishment, I
thought. I suppose if there was someone for him, a companion perhaps.
Someone who loved him and someone whom he loved—then eternity
on earth would be worth living—someone like—me. An
eternity with him? How would that be a possibility?
I
stared out the window. The moon was enormous and for a brief moment,
It seemed like I was staring at another planet up close. Looking at
his room made me sad. The coldness and the lack of warmth was
maddening. I wanted to go and start putting photographs on the
walls—but there was none to be found. I quickly went downstairs
and pulled out some baking pans to preoccupy my thoughts and somehow
try to be useful, then I realized, Tristan didn’t eat.
I’m
useless! There’s nothing I can do to help
.
As I sat on the cold counter top, swinging my feet, I caught
something from the corner of my eye. I saw a couple of books from the
shelves across the living room. They were neatly filed. They looked
really old…almost ancient. I didn’t notice them the last
time I was here.
Suddenly,
a flash of memory came. My mother had a collection of books, almost
the same as these in her library at our old home. Then something
joggled my mind. There was also the matter of her diary that I
haven’t found that simply vanished. Tristan had asked me not to
leave, but I couldn’t just stay here and do nothing.
I
quickly and silently yanked all the drawers in the kitchen and looked
for a pen and paper. When there was none to be found, I hurried my
feet to grab my purse from the counter and scoured inside. With
Constantine just in the other room, I wasn’t sure if he’d
figure I would try to sneak out. Realizing his job was not
necessarily to keep me here but rather to keep the
others
out, gave me a
little reassurance to continue my plan in place. I inhaled a couple
of deep breaths before writing—
Dear
Tristan,
I
am sorry that I had to leave, but I needed to do something—something
important that could possibly lead me the clue of my mother’s
death. I will be back. Please don’t be mad.
Love,
Katheryna
As
soon as I tucked the piece of paper under Tristan’s pillow, I
snuck
out from the back door of the kitchen and got in my car.
Knowing that I would be calling Tristan about my whereabouts once I
got to my old house, if in case he didn’t see my note, made me
feel less guilty. I wouldn’t want him blaming Constantine for
my actions.
Kiss
of
Death
T
here
was not but one, but many ways a person could live. That’s what
everyone believes. Life takes us in many different directions and
when it passes by, there is nothing but the same ending…the
expected truth of death—death is a certainty—a reality.
Though, it may be true for everyone, it isn’t true for the
other side of the unknown.
I
needed to go back to the house where I grew up. I remembered seeing
ancient books and collection of artifacts that were displayed at the
library. I rang Sam’s number and her voice mail picked up.
“Sam, I’m going to my old house. The house where my
mother was killed. I will text you the address as soon as I get
there. Meet me there if you can. I’m on my way now.”
I
shoved the key in the ignition and gave it a turn. It roared as the
engine gave it life. I stepped on the gas, hard and rugged. As soon
as I knew I was far away enough from Tristan‘s house, my
breathing slowed.
It
was still light and was glad, I had enough time to see my way on the
road. I had never gone back to the house ever since that night. I
brought a map. My navigation wont be of any help much longer since I
didn‘t have an address. I couldn’t ask Steve to give it
to me. I simply have to go by memory once I’m close. My
thoughts were racing. My heart pounding. My father and I never talked
about what had become of the house. We simply did not want to
remember the last thing that happened there.
It
was an hour drive and I was more than anxious to get there before
dark. The traffic was low and stable. The long hour of driving was
further than I realized. I tried calling Sam again, but she was
obviously indisposed, her voice mail picked up again. My instinct
told me to call Tristan, but I was well aware that my going there,
and him having to follow me might distract him from doing what he
needed to do. There was also the possibility of him trying to stop me
and I needed to do this—for me—for Steve—for my
mom.
I
needed to unlock something from my past. I needed to find the
answers. Something that I was too afraid to remember. I continued on
path until the road had ended. The suspended, unusual fog made
everything difficult to see. I decided to pull out the map to find my
way to the little dirt road that lead to the house. I traced the way
with my fingers and continued driving. It would be another fifteen
minutes before darkness threatened a good visibility.
I
assessed my progress again and took a mental picture and followed the
almost invisible road ahead. By then, It was pitch black. The wooded
surrounding only added to the darkness. The only thing visible were
the glare of light that was coming
from
the headlights of the cooper. After I reached a splitting road, I
veered left as if I was merely following an instinct. I drove on the
dirt for a while, hoping it was
leading
me in the right direction. Nothing seemed familiar somehow. Without
warning,
I was there. I could see the dark silhouette in front of me—an
old abandoned house—a house that I once, called home. I stared
at it briefly, and without even blinking to think, I quickly got out
and grabbed my flash light.
With
a couple of steps, I reached the front porch. I braced myself. The
house looked like it had been abandoned for a very long time. The
porch was cluttered with dry leaves and cobwebs. I couldn’t see
much of my way to get to the door. Above the dark sky, were a few
stars that manage to barely illuminate the entrance. I waved my
flashlight across to track down the knob. I quickly yanked it. It was
locked. I tried kicking it but it didn’t open.
I
swept my eyes to see what I could use to unlock the door, when I
suddenly remembered a key that my mother used to hide under one of
the loose wooden flooring in the porch. I didn’t know how I
remembered it, but I suddenly found myself on my hands and knees,
trying to feel a crevice or anything that was loose. It didn’t
take long until I stumbled on a crack that led to the location of the
key.
I
quickly took it, ran to the door and inserted it. It took a little
work to ease into the clog and probably very rusted key hole before
it finally clicked open. I pushed my way into the cobwebs, wading
blindly into darkness.
The
room was suddenly spinning. I felt dizzy. I quickly sat down,
clutched my knees and docked my head to get the flow of blood running
in my head. I closed my eyes. This place carried so much power. My
fear quickly rushed to the surface
Buried
Within
Lies
I
fanned
my lashes open to a familiar place in my subconscious, to a familiar
place where my nightmare was—my eyes flickering back to the
past and present simultaneously.
The
house was dark and empty. The air felt damp, drafty and cold. The
paint on the walls chipped from years of abandonment. It didn’t
look much now…just a hollow, dark space that I used to call
home.
Then,
it flickered to something magnificent—something
grand
.
Buried deep in my lost memories, the answers I’d been looking
for. My eyes traced the familiar, shiny wooden floor, the walls with
its intricate moldings, ceiling—high and majestic. A flash of
memory played in my subconscious—vibrating like a melody. My
eyes followed the path to the kitchen where my mother and I used to
spend many hours preparing meals and have shared so many laughter. I
could hear
her
now—her
voice whispering in the air. Her laughter filling the room.
The
entrance to the massive library was overwhelming. I walked slowly,
cautiously. My heart skipped a beat. My thoughts, heavy on the
thought that perhaps this could be it…the key to unlocking
everything. I knew somewhere in this room, lied the answers that I’d
been dreading to find out.
I
swept my eyes, scrutinizing anything that might joggle my memory. If
there was something, it would be here where she kept most of the
items she had inherited. I knew Steve had brought everything from
this house and there really wasn’t any reason why he would
leave anything behind. But there had to be a clue to her death. I
didn’t know what it was, but I knew it existed.
As
I made my way in, my eyes caught the vaulted ceilings. It was large
like I remembered. I flicked the switch to turn the light on. The
electricity was turned off, so I decided to settle for my flash light
and take advantage of the dim light that‘s coming from my cell
phone. Pointing the light in front of me, I immediately saw the
shelves. I whisked my flashlight on all corners. The shelves were
practically empty with the exception of several hard bound
books…several stacks that had been eaten by cobwebs and dust.
I
immediately realized that the journal wasn’t there. I came
closer to get a microscopic view. I pulled each one at a time—trying
to assess each book. I scraped the thick, ash-like layer of dust. As
my fingers delicately flipped through the thin pages of the ancient
looking books, it made crackling noises as if they were made of dry
leaves, about to crumble against my delicate hands…I continued
on to the next, flipping quickly.
I
realized most were medical books. I flipped through them
anyway—leaving nothing to chance. Then, something caught my
eye. Anchored between several stacks, I noticed a heavy bound cover.
I quickly yanked it at arms length. I tried to make out the
unfamiliar words and the rest of the letters in front that seemed to
have been scraped. The cover was made of thick, black leather.
Scratches had made its way all through its sides. But It had taken
one look for me to realize the familiar stone-like angel’s face
on the cover that looked identical to the angel sculpted pediment in
front of the house.
I
quickly flipped it open, the first page were written in some strange
writing. I flipped open the center page and a list of foreign words
appeared. They seemed like they could be a list of something, maybe
names, but I couldn’t be sure. I turned to the next page and
the list continued all the way to the last page.
I
need to bring this to Tristan…he can translate for me.
But
before I could slap the cover shut, a blast of wind scattered my hair
and a terrifying chill engulfed me. I heard an unfamiliar sound. I
stiffened and held my breath for a brief moment. I waited, trying to
confirm my suspicion. Suddenly, heavy footsteps creaked the
floorboards, making me realize somebody else was inside the house.
Could it be Sam?
Nooo.
I haven't given her the address.