Posts tagged ‘fantasy’
THE ULTIMATE EXPERIMENT: WHERE SCIENCE MEETS RELIGION
An unpublished story
THE ULTIMATE EXPERIMENT
George Stewart, age 94, with his mane of white hair and flowing beard, looked the part he had chosen in life, that of a distinguished scientist. His mind wandered as he waited in his study for Virginia to arrive. He always anticipated her visits. Twice a week she came. Finally, the door to his study opened and she entered.
“Virginia, how are you doing?” he said.
Virginia was thirty-five of medium build and quite attractive. But it was the nurturing she gave her patients that revealed her inner beauty. She put down her nursing bag and replied, “How are you doing, Dr. Stewart?” although she knew the answer.
Virginia had been an oncology and hospice nurse for four years. The work was demanding and emotionally draining, but she derived comfort in knowing she helped the people she cared for to make their last days as comfortable as possible.
“I’m maintaining Virginia. I’m so very glad to see you my dear.”
Virginia smiled as Stewart adjusted his body in his hospital bed. She enjoyed spending time with Stewart, easily the most famous patient she had ever had. In 1975, he won the Nobel Prize for Physics. His breakthrough theories and research led to the proposal of string theory. At his advanced age, his brain was still nimble. But his body was riddled with colon cancer and the malignant fingers of death had spread to other organs.
Stewart lived alone in a grand old house. His wife died some years ago and he still deeply mourned her. His only child, a son near 70, lived nearby and would visit when he could. Stewart would have liked to see his two grandchildren more, but they had their own lives and families. He cherished the rare visits they managed. A nurse’s aide kept watch over him and tended to his daily needs.
When Virginia began managing Stewart’s care one month ago, he was given three months to live. “I’ll spend my final days at home,” he told his doctor.
Virginia was assigned Stewart’s case and, during her first visit, she told him, “I’m having a hospital bed delivered today to make you more comfortable. What bedroom do you want it set up in?”
“Oh my dear,” he answered, “I want to spend my last days with my very close friends. Set it up in my study.”
He could tell she did not understand his request. “Wheel me into my study and you shall meet them.”
She wheeled him up to the sliding double doors of darkly stained wood. When she opened them her eyes were greeted by floor to ceiling shelves overflowing with books.
“These are my very close friends. I have spent my life with their thoughts, their ideas, and their dreams. On these shelves are the works of scientists, philosophers and poets. I can gaze at their spines and recall the cherished words they hold. This is where I choose to spend my last days.” Over the days she cared for him she grew to understand how much these friends meant to him.
Now she saw Stewart as her patient and friend. As she tended to him, Virginia asked, “Have you received communion yet today?” She knew that Stewart was a devout Catholic and received the sacrament every morning from a visiting priest or lay member of the church.
“Yes, my dear. Monsignor visited me early this morning. I do so love visiting with that man. We prayed together and talked about my journey into the next life. I’ve worked hard in this life. I am satisfied with what I have accomplished. But I am so very tired. I look forward to the next life and being united with my dear wife.”
Virginia finished with her patient and left instructions with the nurse’s aide as to what needed to be done until her next visit. With her work done, Virginia packed her bag and prepared for her next visit. They said their good-byes, and then Stewart mentioned, “I’m expecting a visitor this afternoon, a former student of mine. His name is Donald Ball, and he has made quite a name for himself in the field of quantum mechanics and string theory. I have not seen him for thirty years or more. I can’t imagine what the purpose of his visit might be.”
“Just don’t overdo it Dr. Stewart. I’ll see you in two days.”
Whenever Virginia left Stewart, she never knew whether she would see him again. She knew the end was very close.
* * *
Donald Ball drove his rental car along the back roads of southeastern Pennsylvania. He chose this circuitous route to give him time to think, although his mind had been occupied with one subject for some time now. He wanted to talk about an extremely sensitive and private matter: his old teacher’s imminent death.
Ball had a collaboration to discuss with his mentor. That is why he traveled from California to Pennsylvania. He had in mind the ultimate physics experiment and needed Stewart’s help to prove a theory that, until now, he had not dared share with anyone.
* * *
Ball arrived at Stewart’s residence and parked on the circular drive. The nurse’s aide answered the door and led him to the study. The sliding doors were open. As he entered, he was immediately astounded at the number of books crammed into the room. However, he was more astounded and saddened to see the shell of a man that was once George Stewart.
Stewart smiled as his former student approached the bed.
Ball extended his hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again Professor. How are you?” He immediately gave himself a mental slap for asking a man who was dying how he was doing.
“I meant to say….”
Stewart waved a dismissive hand. “I understand Donald. When one is as close to death as I, life’s daily greetings can seem out of place. I’m glad to see you but I must admit I am puzzled by this visit. I cannot fathom why you would drop your important work at U C Irvine to come visit your old professor?”
Ball knew this conversation would be extremely difficult. He had practiced what he would say since he first conceived the idea, when he first heard of Stewart’s condition.
Motioning for Ball to take a seat, Stewart asked the nurse’s aide to bring some tea.
When they were alone, Ball began to explain his visit. “Professor Stewart, I have always respected you as an outstanding scientist. No, respect is the wrong word. I have always been in awe of your intellect. And I have always respected you as a man, a person of honesty and integrity.”
Stewart smiled, “I appreciate your comments, he said, “but I’m sure you didn’t travel three thousand miles just to compliment me on the life I have lived.”
Ball hesitated, and then said, “Um, professor, this may seem like an odd question, but are you still a religious man?”
This question took Stewart by surprise. “Why yes, I am. I must say I find this conversation most puzzling.”
“Professor, I am here because you have three qualities I am seeking in an individual, someone I need to help me prove a theory of mine. It is a theory that goes beyond science to the essence our very existence. You meet my criteria. You are a highly intelligent physicist, you have led an honorable life and you are dying.”
Stewart said, “This conversation is becoming more and more bizarre. I presume you can explain your comments.”
Ball nodded, “I will try my best Professor. “As you know, I am working at the Super-Kamiokande detector used for detection of neutrinos. I am also conducting a graduate-level course in string theory. While teaching this course, I formed a theory on a subject that I never put much credence in: the existence of heaven.”
“Now I am truly lost,” replied Stewart.
“You see Professor, I have never been a religious man. I was not raised in any faith. But as a scientist, the more I think about life the more I find it difficult to picture our life force, that energy that each of us possesses, coming to a complete end with our death.”
“I can appreciate your observation on life. But I cannot fathom the connection between string theory and heaven.”
Ball began to explain his theory.
“One of the estimations of string theory, as you well know, is the existence of not four but eleven dimensions. Presumably, some of these dimensions are too miniscule to be observable. I began thinking about the existence of alternate universes. I thought of our own universe with its three physical dimensions and the fourth, time. I envisioned two alternate universes, each with three dimensions. I assumed time to be a constant for all three dimensions, ours and the two unknowns.”
Stewart interrupted. “That theory,” he hesitated, “would explain the presence of ten dimensions. You are left with one unexplained ….” The startled expression on Stewart’s face told Ball that he now comprehended the connection between string theory and heaven.
“That is correct, Professor Stewart. We are left with one dimension, one universe that is infinite, a universe of energy, and a universe where physical reality does not exist. The one remaining universe is heaven.”
Both men fell silent. Ball continued, “I have thought about the next aspect of my theory a great deal. As I said, I am not a religious man. But I appreciate the good and the evil in the world. If the one remaining dimension is heaven, then what comprises hell? Could it be a continuum of the heavenly dimension, or does it not exist?”
Ball paused for emphasis, and then continued, “I propose that hell does not exist. The reward for an errant life is oblivion. Your life force is dissipated for some other purpose and your consciousness; your existence is lost.”
Stewart looked at Ball and said, “I must admit your theory interests me. I now see why you require a man who, some would say, led an honorable life and why you require the help of someone about to die. But what is your need for a scientist?”
“History is overflowing,” Ball said, “with people who have vowed to communicate with the living after their death. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the author of the popular Sherlock Holmes stories, considered those works a minor representation of his entire output. He was primarily concerned with the afterlife and communication from the beyond. What happened after he passed? Nothing.
“Harry Houdini spent a good part of his life trying to contact his departed mother, and in the process debunked quite a few mediums. He vowed that he would communicate to his wife from the next world – nothing.
“But these people weren’t scientists. Even if they had been, the level of technology did not exist to allow them to communicate from that singular dimension. I’m asking you, Professor Stewart, after you pass, to send me a sign. Something that we will now plan. Something that will prove my theory.”
Stewart’s eyes twinkled as he said, “I think I know just the event.”
* * *
A few days after Donald Ball’s visit, Virginia noticed a steady decline in George Stewart’s condition. Every time she saw him she thought it would be the last. Each time she approached his bed, Stewart appeared as a corpse, his complexion gray. Only the occasional rise and fall of his chest signaled that his body still harbored life.
“How are you today, Professor Stewart?” Virginia did not expect an answer but he opened his eyes.
“I don’t think I have long for this world, my dear,” he said with great effort. “But I am at peace. I have one request of you before you leave.”
Two hours later, while making another visit, Virginia was paged by the nurse’s aide caring for Stewart.
“The professor passed away.”
Virginia went to pronounce him dead. She had lost a patient and a friend. Then she fulfilled Stewart’s last request.
* * *
Donald Ball was at work when his phone rang.
“Hello, Dr. Ball?”
“Yes, this is Dr. Ball.” He did not recognize the voice.
“This is Virginia Madison. I’m a visiting nurse. I have been taking care of George Stewart.”
Ball knew immediately the purpose of the call.
“George Stewart passed away today. He told me it was very important that you know when he died.”
“Thank you for calling. He was a good man and friend. He will be missed.”
“He was a good man. Good-bye.”
Donald Ball hung up the phone. He sat alone in his office for a long time thinking of what might occur. He felt a chill of anticipation.
* * *
Two days later John Coolidge, a graduate student working for Dr. Ball, sat at the computer console connected to the Super-Kamiokande detector. He had seen what the computer images of past neutrino events looked like and detected a few events himself. He was reading a physics textbook when the alarms began to sound. As he looked at the monitor he said out loud, “Holy shit, I’m going to be famous.”
* * *
Ball looked up from his work as his normally reserved graduate student came running into his office. This usually calm student was in an extreme state of agitation.
“Professor, you’ve got to come quick! We’ve just recorded a unique event. Nothing like this … you’ve got to come!”
“Calm down John. Now tell me what has happened.”
“We’ve detected a new form of neutrino! It is not any of the three known types – electron, muon or tau!”
Now Ball was getting excited. “Tell me about its chirality – its orientation.”
“That’s the strangest part, Dr. Ball. It has none. It is not left-handed as all neutrinos are. I’ve got to get back. Are you coming? There might be more events.”
“I’ll be right there, son.”
After the graduate student left Donald Ball sat for a moment alone. He was simultaneously excited and numb. He cried, and then he laughed. He also felt calmness he had never experienced before. He knew this was a unique event. Because it seemed inexplicable, the event would probably be deemed the result of faulty sensors. But Ball knew better. The new neutrino was the type of particle Stewart had agreed to generate from beyond the grave.
THE END
UNHOLY GROUND, A HORROR SHORT STORY, CHAPTER VII
UNHOLY GROUND
“Bullshit,” Chris screamed when his parents told him of their plan to move to the country. “Philadelphia is my home. I don’t want to live with a bunch of hayseeds that get their kicks watching corn grow or whatever the hell they grow out there.”
Chris was tall and lean with a shock of red hair and a face full of freckles. He resembled his dad and had his dad’s forward manner. Bob was irritated at how much his son was like him, especially in ways he wanted to change in himself.
“Now listen here,” Bob said. “The decision is made, so you might as well accept it. And watch your language. The attitude you’ve taken lately is one of the reasons we made this decision.
“And furthermore, I’d rather see you keep company with hayseeds than those hoodlums you call your friends. I did not enjoy picking you up at the police station after you and your friends were caught spraying graffiti on that old warehouse.”
Chris said sarcastically, “We were just being artistic.”
“Well son, your form of art is considered vandalism. There are no two ways about it. We’re moving to Pinebrook to make a new start.”
Chris grumbled up to, during and after the move was completed. His attitude improved when he met Junior Dawson. Junior had a talent for getting into trouble and nothing scared him. Well, almost nothing.
* * *
In his fifteen years, Junior Dawson had never strayed far from Pinebrook. For vacations, his family would seek out campgrounds in nearby Pennsylvania state parks. He seldom visited a big city. When Chris moved to Pinebrook, he brought Junior a window to a world he barely knew.
Junior liked Chris’ swagger, his whole attitude. No one in Pinebrook had an attitude, that is if you didn’t count old-man Alexander, who was perpetually pissed off. In Pinebrook there was no reason to have an attitude. People just lived their lives and accepted what came their way.
The two boys were neighbors, but with the size of the farms, their houses were not within sight of one another. Although they were in different classes at school, they became fast friends. One lazy Saturday afternoon, Chris asked Junior, “What do you do for kicks around this place?”
“Oh, we hike and fish. And when it gets warm, we swim in the lake.”
“Shit, John-Boy, I’m talking fun, not Boy Scout camp.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Junior replied. “There’s not much to do around here.”
“No shit,” answered Chris.
“Listen, when I lived in the city, me and some of my pals used to get cans of spray paint and decorate the walls of some vacant and not so vacant buildings. Then you could walk by anytime you wanted and look at your artwork.”
Junior said, “I know what graffiti is but what are you going to paint around her’, the trees? All the farms are busy places. You can’t even sneak up on them at night for all the dogs. There aren’t any vacant buildings except… ‘
“Except what?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit! Except what?”
“Well, there’s this old barn. Sits all by itself in the middle of the woods about a mile or so from here. People around here don’t talk about it much. It’s a strange place. I’ve been to it once and don’t want to go back there again.”
“Man, it sounds perfect. What could be so strange about an old barn in the middle of nowhere? I bet it’s just screaming for a paint job.”
“No, it’s not, Chris. Believe me, it’s not. No one knows how old the barn is, but it looks like it was built yesterday. And although no one tends to it, the forest just grows up to about twenty feet from the barn and stops.”
“Oh, that sounds scary,” Chris said with all the sarcasm he could muster.
Junior said, “I’ve been there once, with a couple of friends during the day. The place gave me the creeps; a strange feeling like someone was watching me. Like someone was about to yell at me. We all high-tailed it outa there. We all felt the same thing and it didn’t feel good.”
“Now you’re really getting me scared, Junior. There’s an old, abandoned barn in the middle of the woods that everyone around here is afraid to visit. Shit, it sounds perfect. We can paint to our heart’s content, and no one will ever disturb our work. Maybe we could make it into a kind of clubhouse, a kind of drinking and smoking clubhouse.
“I don’t think it’s such a good idea, Chris,” Junior said.
“I do. Let’s go.”
After more arguing, Junior finally gave in. The boys headed down the dirt road that separated their properties. Fields of wheat and corn bordered the road, with an occasional stand of trees. The air was full of the smell of a country afternoon and insects, which the boys would swat away. Once past their farms, Junior slowed and began looking for a trail that would lead off to the right. He finally found what he was looking for.
“Here’s the trail to the barn.”
“You call that a trail.”
“I told you no one comes out here. We shouldn’t be here either.”
“Don’t pussy-out on me now, Junior. Take me to your scary barn.”
Following the path was not easy.
“I can’t believe how dense this forest is.” said Chris.
“You want to turn back?”
Chris shoved Junior in the back and said, “Keep going.”
They walked for half an hour, crossing streams and glancing up at the giant canopy of trees blocking the sky. If anything, the trees became denser as they walked making the going extremely difficult.
“Oh, Junior, this place is so scary even the bugs won’t come here,” Chris said.
This only added to Junior’s fears because the bugs really were gone.
Suddenly, up ahead there appeared a clearing. In the middle of the clearing stood a barn, painted white. The doors and shutters surrounding the window of the loft were painted black and closed.
“You are sure this barn is old, Junior? It looks brand new.”
“I told you this was a strange place. And I’m sure it’s old. My grandpa said his grandpa told him about it.”
Chris immediately observed how clear the area was around the building, and asked, “Who keeps the area around the barn free of trees?”
“No one,” answered Junior. “I told you. It just stays clear on its own.”
The boys stood at the edge of the trees.
“Can you feel it, Chris? Like we’re being watched. Like we’re not alone.”
Looking off, Chris pointed to a figure emerging from behind the barn and said, “We’re not alone.”
UNHOLY GROUND, A HORROR SHORT STORY, CHAPTER IV
UNHOLY GROUND
That night Jake heard the voices again, but they had now grown louder. Unable to sleep, he waited for them to begin moaning and calling him.
“Come join us,” shouted the haunting voices.
There was a new horror this night. The outline of the door of the root cellar took on a blood-red glow, as if the entrance of hell had opened up beneath the barn.
Jake screamed, “Thomas, Thomas, wake up!”
Thomas stirred from a sound sleep. “Quiet, Jake!” What is wrong with you?” he shouted. But his eyes and ears quickly determined the source of Jake’s fear. He heard malevolent voices and saw the glow coming from the cellar door.
Before the boys’ unbelieving eyes, the seam along the double doors brightened as they were lifted from below. The slow creak of the doors intensified as the barn began to fill with the eerie light ushering up from the root cellar. Long, sinewy arms slowly parted the double doors. A ghastly face of gray-green flesh came into view. The two boys screamed for all they were worth. Zeke and Martha came running toward the rear of the barn seeing the glow and fearing that the barn was on fire. They stopped dead in their tracks and confronted the horrible visage of the monster rising from the root cellar.
“Boys, come to me!” shouted Martha.
The family huddled together near the stalls, unable to take their eyes off the demon rising from the cellar. The horror now stood in the barn. It smiled, revealed pointed teeth, and spoke. “You have violated the ground of the Ancients. For this you shall spend eternity guarding the entrance to our domain.”
Suddenly, a host of ethereal figures emerged from the cellar. They flew to the heights of the rafters and descended upon the family. One by one the spirits penetrated each member. As the spirit emerged, the victim fell; their bodies grew indistinct and then disappeared as the phantom they now were shown with intense light. Zeke was the last to fall victim to the spirits. His last earthly thoughts were the warnings and signs he refused to heed.
The Young family flew among the rafters, then into the cellar to begin their eternal vigil.
* * *
John Taylor woke during the night to make his water. His eyes were drawn in the direction of Zeke’s place. A small hill stood between the two properties and beyond the hill a red glow filled the sky. John was sure that Zeke’s barn was ablaze. But as he watched, the glow diminished and then disappeared. No need to go to the Young place tonight, he thought. Tomorrow he would visit Zeke to ask him about the light and make sure there was no problem.
* * *
The sentries posted by the Indians living in the area observed the red glow in the distance and woke the elder of the tribe. He came out of his lodge and looked to where the sentries pointed. His weary eyes saw the distant glow. Shaking his head, he said, “The Ancients are awake and walk the Earth. They have claimed new victims to protect their sacred ground. We must hold council and speak of this matter.”
* * *
The following morning John Taylor paid a call to Zeke Young’s place. As he approached the barn, he was relieved to see that it stood undamaged. He was sure he would find some member of the family within and knocked on the closed door.
There was no reply.
John slowly opened the door, hoping to find no sign of tragedy. The barn was empty save for a heavy sulfurous odor. John left the barn and called out Zeke’s name, still no response. He walked Zeke’s fields and was unable to find him or any member of his family. The four had vanished without a trace. The roan, still tied to a tree, was dead with her eyes wide open, a mask of fear and agony.
* * *
Two sentries from the tribe were sent to observe the white man’s barn built on unholy ground. The usually brave warriors were terrified. They knew this was land possessed by demons. On the second night of their vigil, they saw four images, glowing with an unholy light, emerging from the structure. Then, before the sentries’ startled eyes, the two adult figures took flight and came towards the cowering Indians who fled for their lives.
No further braves were dispatched to this blasphemous ground.
UNHOLY GROUND, A HORROR SHORT STORY, CHAPTER III
UNHOLY GROUND, CHAPTER III
Jake approached his mother one afternoon as she was preparing dinner. He wanted to talk to her before his father came home, sure that his father would call him a baby for the fears that were on his mind. “Mom, can’t I sleep toward the front of the barn with you and dad?”
Martha looked at her youngest. She knew how little Zeke would enjoy company in their bed. He wanted more sons to work the land and Jake’s presence wouldn’t help in that matter. “What is wrong with the back of the barn, Jake?”
Jake struggled with what he wanted to say. Finally, in a quiet voice he said, “I’m afraid when I’m back there at night.”
Martha knew Jake had a vivid imagination. “There’s nothing to be frightened about, Jake. You have your brother for company. Nothing will harm you.”
Jake struggled again to explain his fear. “There are people in the root cellar.”
Now Martha was sure the problem was Jake’s imagination. “You saw people in the root cellar?”
“I didn’t see them, Mom. I heard them. They said they were coming and that I was on their land.”
She could see that Jake was trembling and wanted to comfort him. She hugged him, but at the same time knew that Zeke would not tolerate talking like this. “It’s just your imagination, Jake. You’ll have to sleep in the back of the barn with Thomas. We’ll talk tomorrow if you are still worried.”
That night, before going to bed, Martha said, “Zeke, Jake is afraid to sleep in the barn. Maybe we could let him sleep in the tent?”
Zeke suddenly became angry, “Damn it, woman. There’s nothing wrong with this barn. I’ll make no allowances for Jake.”
Zeke seemed so on edge lately. Martha decided to drop the subject – for now.
BALANCE, A STORY OF HORROR, CHAPTER III
BALANCE, A STORY OF HORROR, CHAPTER III
It was weeks before Nijo had time to search out the Mejocuthru master. The workload was unusually heavy, and her kids were sick so when she wasn’t caring for her patients she was nursing her children.
One sunny cold Saturday afternoon she asked Jim to watch the girls. “I’ve got some errands to run. Would you mind staying home with the kids?”
Jim looked up from the college football game he was watching and said, “No problem. On your way home, why don’t you pick up a pizza for dinner?” He returned to the game as his wife closed the front door.
She made her way to the address Robbie supplied. It was in the Chinese section of town. She consulted a city map and had no trouble locating the home of the Mejocuthru master. She pulled up in front of the building and was momentarily confused, “This can’t be the right address,” she said to herself. The building housed a Chinese restaurant. In the window of the grimy building was a row of cured ducks hung by their necks, suspended over oriental fruit and vegetables. Above were apartments, but the doorway leading upstairs displayed a different number.
Nijo went into the restaurant and was immediately approached by a waiter who asked in a heavy accent, “Can I seat you?” The room smelled of exotic sauces and spices. Clouds had darkened the afternoon sky, and the room appeared not to absorb what little light that filtered through the dirty front window. The few customers present were seated in the darkness muttering in Asian dialects.
Nijo said, “I was given this address by a friend. I’ve come to see the Mejocuthru master.”
The waiter’s expression changed from neutral to one of malice. “That is not possible,” he said. “Who sent you here?”
She gave him Robbie’s name. A brief look of recognition passed over his face.
“Sit here,” he growled, pointing to the area reserved for take-out customers and disappeared through a beaded curtain leading to the kitchen. Sometime later he reemerged, perspiring heavily. He had the same countenance of anger, but now he also bore a hint of uncertainty.
In a gruff voice, he said, “Follow me.”
The waiter led Nijo through the beaded curtain and into the kitchen where a host of Chinese cooks shouted to one another in their sing-song language. Here the exotic smell of the food was overpowering. Hurriedly, Nijo was shown to the rear of the room to a flight of stairs leading to the basement. The steps leading into the darkness were wooden and well-worn. In the faint light from an occasional bare bulb, Nijo found herself walking through a maze of tiny storerooms containing shelves of cans displaying Asian characters and jar upon jar of spices. One room was reserved for nothing but tea; another for huge bags of rice. He led Nijo to the darkest recesses of the cellar and a rust-stained metal door. He unlocked a heavy bolt and motioned Nijo inside. Immediately after she entered, the door was locked behind her. Her nostrils were attacked by the heavy smell of incense. Behind a single wavering candle flame appeared to be a pile of rags. Then the rags began to move, becoming a solitary figure surrounded by cushions. Even after her eyes had adjusted, Nijo could only make out a shadowy figure.
In perfect English, without the hint of an accent, the specter motioned to the pile of cushions and said, “Come here, child, and sit.”
The voice was that of a woman and was gentle but with an undertone of despair. Now seated, Nijo could begin to discern the woman’s features. Her face was a mass of wrinkles with deep-set slanted eyes, a flat nose and small mouth.
“My name is Maggie Wu,” said the woman. “I have been a prisoner in this room for many years. It is a painful, lonely existence, one I wish I could end, but I am powerless to do so.”
Nijo asked, “Why are you held prisoner? Are these people holding you hostage?”
The old woman answered, “I do not know why I am here. They say I did terrible things, but I don’t recall. I have had visitors, but they were either curious or vengeful. This has been my existence for more years than I can remember. “What brings you here, my child?”
Nijo answered, “A friend of mine and I have been practicing Reiki to help our patients. We are hospice nurses and have had some success in relieving some of their pain, but nothing consistent. I asked my friend, Robbie, if there was some stronger discipline we could use with more power and more certainty. Reluctantly, she told me about Mejocuthru and how to find you. She said there were risks but I would risk anything to help my patients.”
“Would you, my dear? I recall your friend. You must have been very persuasive, for not only did I deter her from using Mejocuthru but made her swear not to tell anyone of my existence.”
Nijo said, “I was rather relentless in my questioning. Do not be mad at Robbie. Please agree to teach me.”
The old woman reached out her gnarled hands to Nijo. “Give me your hands,” she ordered.
Nijo extended her hands and felt a strange tingle when they were held by the woman.
The woman said, “You have a deep desire to heal. I have never experienced this power in another. Perhaps you could control the power of Mejocuthru. I will tell you my history; then we will see.
“I was a healer taught by healers from the old country. They said I had many natural abilities and revealed to me powers and cures unknown in this country. I did much good for the Chinese community, but I felt I wasn’t doing enough, that there was a further step I could take.”
“I have the same feelings,” said Nijo, “that there is something beyond the Reiki I use.”
The old woman shook her head in disgust. “Reiki is for amateurs, a weak discipline practiced by weak people. Mejocuthru is where the real power lies. With Mejocuthru you can perform miracles. The old masters warned me of dangers, of doing well but of also doing evil. But I accepted the power. I raised the dead. It was only then I realized the power I possessed.
“The old masters said I would perform unspeakable acts if I used this knowledge. After I began to cure using Mejocuthru, the only problem I encountered was the loss of memory after healing. Soon after I raised a young woman from death I was imprisoned and have been here ever since. I long to be free. No one will explain why I am here, but I know I did some good and that is what is important. Those thoughts are what keep me alive.”
Nijo said, “I do not understand how such a great healing tool can do evil. I want to learn. I want to possess this power.”
The old woman smiled and said, “I will teach you. There is a chant you must learn. One that will release the powers of Mejocuthru into the people you touch to heal the disease that sickens them.
“Come, child. Lean forward and I will whisper the chant so that you may heal the sick.”
Nijo leaned close to the ancient healer. The old woman spoke the chant into Nijo’s ear. When the lesson was finished, the old woman told Nijo, “You are now a Mejocuthru healer. Go and help the sick; the power is yours.”
As soon as she said these words, the old woman’s images appeared to waive; then slowly fade. Before Nijo’s disbelieving eyes, there appeared a boiling black cloud where the woman had been. Rather than dissipating, the cloud began to fall into itself. It became constantly smaller until all that remained was a solitary black dot hovering above the candle. Then it was gone.
Nijo shuddered and rose from the cushions. She had no idea what she had just witnessed, however, she felt a new sense of power that was pleasurable, that needed to be shared. She pounded on the door to be released. The door was opened by the waiter who had led her to the room. Nijo said, “I am finished here,” and walked past the man. After a minute or so, his eyes began to adjust to the darkened room. The chamber was empty. He searched the small room in disbelief and horror.
BALANCE, A STORY OF HORROR, CHAPTER I
BALANCE, A STORY OF HORROR, CHAPTER I
Balance was published by Necrology Shorts in 2010.
There is no free ride in life.
Balance
Nijo London pounded on the door of her small cell – her world now for over a year – until her fists bled. “Let me out!” she screamed although she knew her plea would go unanswered. She stepped back and studied the door covered with dark brown outlines of her fists from past attempts to summon help. She was not sure why she was being held captive, but there were times she was not sure she wanted to know.
Nijo was thirty-five of medium height and slender, with close-cropped black hair and startling blue eyes. She was slender now because of her imprisonment, but she once drifted up and down in her weight. After each of her two pregnancies, the pounds tended to remain more than being shed.
It had been a year since she last saw the sun. No one would speak to her, let alone answer her questions. But she heard occasional conversations through her door. There was hushed talk of brutal murders. One time she thought she heard the mention of cannibalism, but she couldn’t be sure.
Surely these conversations could not be connected to Nijo; she was a nurse and devoted her life to caring for the sick. But she had vague memories that she didn’t understand; flashes of perception that were more than disturbing. They were horrifying. There was also some connection with these horrors to ancient rituals of healing she had tried to incorporate into her practice. Nijo also recalled the most unsettling consequence of using these ancient rights: the complete loss of memory after she used the power.
ELMO’S SOJOURN, CHAPTER 12
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 12
ELMO HAS HIS HOMECOMING
The four stayed up late into the night. Rolack described how she was made pregnant three times, felt the joy of motherhood as a new life stirred within her body and was filled with revulsion at the sight of the tiny, winged monster she delivered. She never met any of the women from Earth but had heard talk of them. They had not she learned, survived for very long on Gylex. Because they were physically so much smaller than the women of Roth and Gylex, they often died during pregnancies in which they carried fetuses much larger than an Earth child. Labor and delivery killed the few that survived to term. All that was left were stories and bones scattered among the trash of the prison.
Valmid and Cal could not take their eyes from their daughter, couldn’t believe she was back, and that the planet was safe from more women suffering her fate. Valmid explained to Rolack how Elmo had traveled to Roth and how his visit led to her freedom and that of her companions.
After a while, Valmid and Elmo decided to take a walk and let Cal and Rolack have some of the mother-daughter time they both desperately needed. Valmid sensed also that something troubled Elmo and thought perhaps a stroll in the early morning air would ease his mind and loosen his thoughts.
They walked for a while, enjoying the peaceful countryside. Then Elmo began, “Valmid, before I arrived on your planet, I was a retired scientist just puttering around in my cellar. Then I hit on the concept that brought me here. Back on earth, I have a wife with whom I have spent most of my life. But that life is over, and I can’t return to it. Now, I’m a young man. I have a future again. I cannot go back to Earth and resume my retirement. There is so much I want to learn from you, from your planet. I want Mildred to journey here. She is my life; we share a history. I need her to share my future on Roth. If I cannot convince Mildred to come here, I don’t know what I will do.”
They walked on a while more before Valmid shared his thoughts. “Elmo, your knowledge has already proved indispensable to Roth. Who knows in what ways my planet could benefit from the knowledge you have of Earth? And if there were a problem on Roth that can only be solved by making a trip to Earth, I would find it difficult to blend into the population. I have discussed all this with the elders of the planet, and we all reached the same conclusion: We want you to stay.”
They continued their walk in silence until Elmo asked the question that he had been nagging him whenever he thought of making Roth his home. “Valmid, if Mildred agrees to come here, could she travel through the wormhole that I first used? If she could, we would both be starting a new life on a new planet.”
Valmid considered this, “If she agrees to come here, I see no problem in granting your request. I think we should return to Earth and try to convince Mildred to spend time on Roth.”
ELMO’S SOJOURN, CHAPTER 11
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 11
ELMO’S OFFER IS ACCEPTED
The argument went back and forth between Elmo and Valmid, but Valmid finally succumbed to Elmo’s persistence. “I accept your help my friend. We shall leave when the devices are ready.”
In a few days the six new Freon throwers were ready and tested. Valmid called the five other Rothians to his home. The seven warriors were ready to depart. Elmo noticed that each member of the team carried a pouch in addition to his Freon throwers on their backs. Elmo was also given a pouch.
“We are taking as many time-space machines as we can carry. We have no idea how many women we will be freeing and returning to Roth. I’m afraid there is little hope of rescuing any of the women abducted from Earth, for the abductions ceased there almost sixty years ago, when the Freon level reached intolerable levels for the Gylex monsters.
“Our plan is to journey to Gylex, hopefully arriving at a deserted area. Then we will try to follow the thoughts of the captive women.” All five of the Rothians and Elmo nodded and prepared to leave. Elmo joined Valmid in the center of his machine; the other five occupied two machines facing back-to-back in preparation for a hostile greeting.
In a flash the most dismal landscape imaginable surrounded them, along with four Gylexian monsters. Three were quickly dispatched, surprise being on the side of the Rothians. The fourth began flying away, thanks to the weaker gravity of the planet; Elmo was able to leap high enough to douse the creature and it abruptly fell to the ground.
After the initial excitement, the travelers had a chance to inspect their surroundings. Elmo thought, “If there is a hell, it must look something like this.” The Rothians were unfamiliar with the concept of Elmo’s hell, but they all shuddered at the scene before them. Everything was colored shades of gray and black. The landscape was dotted with miniature volcanoes no more than a few hundred feet high, most in a constant state of eruption that spewed heavy columns of smoke and ash into the air and shed an eerie glow from the magma seeping down their sides. The atmosphere was thick and oppressive. The party had timed their arrival for daytime, but a faint twilight was all that greeted them. The only vegetation visible were huge trees, not unlike those found on Roth. Their trunks disappeared into the unbroken mantle of black clouds that filled the sky; their leaves seeking the life-giving light denied the planet’s surface.
The rescue party could see larger mountains in the distance; their sides honeycombed with openings. Occasionally a winged Gylexian would fly in or out of apertures; these must be their cities.
The six Rothians stood still and quietly concentrated, seeking the thoughts of the women they had come to rescue. It did not take long for them to sense Rothian thoughts and then locate their origin on a distant part of the planet. They set up their time-space machines, again standing back-to-back and ready for an attack. They were sure there must be guards at their destination, and to eliminate them by taking advantage of the element of surprise.
In a flash the seven were standing before a Gylexian hill, somewhat smaller than the hill they first had seen. Perhaps this was the prison where the women were being held. At the same time, they also found themselves standing before five guards armed with weapons resembling crossbows. Before the Rothians could react, one of their parties was shot in the neck and collapsed. Freon spray quickly took care of the guards, but not before they sounded an alarm that brought more guards flying out of the prison, also to fall to the ground as the air filled with Freon. Three of the party, along with Elmo, remained outside to guard against further attacks. Valmid and the remaining member of his group entered the prison to free the women. The sight inside sickened them. Corpses of ten to 15 Rothian women littered the floor of the forbidding structure. As they proceeded farther into the dark, dank hallways they came upon the cells they were seeking. Each cell held two or three women in various stages of pregnancy. As Valmid had anticipated, there were no women from Earth, only women from Roth. Valmid searched wildly from cell to cell looking for his daughter, calling her name, “Rolack, Rolack.” He stopped at the entrance of a cell holding two women, then choked back tears and cried, “Rolack!”
A woman inside stood and cried, “Father!”
Valmid had found his daughter. In short order, the keys to the cells were located and the women released. They made their way out of the prison, the women breathing free air for the first time since their capture. One of the women collapsed by the body of the fallen Rothian, crying for the husband she had not seen for years and who had died trying to rescue her. Valmid ordered everyone to unfurl the time-space machines and, in twos and threes, quickly occupy them. Two Rothians carried the body of their fallen companion to the last machine and gently laid him down. Then Valmid distributed the preset control boxes, and the group disappeared in a series of flashes, bound for Roth.
Once on Roth, the women cried, laughed and even collapsed when united with their families. Those who returned pregnant wanted most to immediately cleanse their bodies of the demon cargo they carried. Valmid, Elmo and Rolack entered their home to find Cal crying out at the sight of her daughter. The three family members hugged and cried while Elmo stood to the side and felt an emptiness he could no longer deny.
ELMO’S SOJOURN, CHAPTER 7
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 7
ATTACK FROM GYLEX
The scene outside the house was peaceful and remained peaceful until the dingo plants began their shrill alarm, joined moments later by the sound of flapping wings. The camera recorded a sight, illuminated by the outside lights that sent a chill through Elmo; it was a vision from hell. What it showed was a creature at least eight feet tall with arms and legs like that of a human. But there the resemblance ceased. It flew. Its wings appeared like that of a bat, leathery and veined, colored blood red, like the rest of its body. The torso was covered with thickly matted black hair, but the head was its most frightening aspect. It resembled the head of a wolf, with an elongated snout exposing a vicious set of teeth. The ears were long and pointed, also like a bat’s. The creature hovered before the camera, snarled at the dingo’s alarm, then flew off.
Valmid paused a few moments for Elmo’s nerves to settle down then said, “These creatures are a menace to the planet Roth, and someday soon they will again menace Earth. We know a great deal about these creatures, although no Rothian has ever set foot on their planet. These creatures do not know of our ability to read their thoughts. Because of their actions, we never attempted to communicate with them. Elmo, when you arrived, you stood in wonderment and amazement at all you witnessed. But when these creatures from Gylex first arrived, they had one thing in mind: to do us harm. The first attack occurred one night many years ago at a remote location and was not discovered for days. A worker making a delivery discovered a man and his son, dead and partially devoured. The wife and the daughter were missing. Later, other attacks were made in more populated areas, and the reality of these monsters became known.
“We learned that the invasion was from the planet Gylex, which had been wracked by a strange illness, a virus that destroyed most of the female population. It was finally controlled, but not until ninety percent of the females were dead. You now know Elmo, that our biochemistry is very similar – almost identical. The Gylexans share this similarity. The sexual chemistry of us all is also similar. The hormones and mating rituals are almost identical. Only the gestation periods vary slightly. The primary purpose of the invasion of Roth was to abduct females to sustain their population. Once captured, the females were implanted with embryos created with eggs harvested from Gylexian females before the females died.”
Elmo shivered at the thought of being touched by one of these monsters, let alone carried to their planet.
“We are a peaceful civilization, unable to defend ourselves from these monsters. We found that the dingo plants, with their extended nocturnal strands, would warn of an invasion. The Gylexans came only at night, for their planet had an odious and polluted atmosphere allowing very little light to penetrate. They cannot bear the life-giving light of our days.”
Valmid paused for a moment and his eyes filled with tears. “One day,” he said, “our daughter was visiting friends. The dingo plants of the house had not yet surrounded the dwelling with their strands, allowing the fiends to strike and abduct our girl. Those are her clothes you are wearing now.”
Elmo’s heart sank at this knowledge. “But Valmid, you said Earth was also in danger and had been invaded in the past. We have had no invasions by these beasts.”
“Ah Elmo,” Valmid replied, “but you have. From the Gylexian thoughts we found that Earth had been invaded, your females captured and returned to Gylex. These monsters kept a low profile on Earth because of your weapons, and the ease with which your society uses them without hesitation. Earth abductions continued for some time, until an invasion team became deathly ill. One day, a group of them died; dropped to the ground and instantly decayed. A lone survivor, near death, returned to Gylex and reported this development. Gylex then ceased its Earth invasions. They had not consumed anything on your planet, so they assumed something in your atmosphere was killing them. But these monsters are persistent. They continued to send parties for short periods of time – always returning to Gylex close to death. That is until recently. They still cannot remain on your planet for long, but the time they can tolerate visits is lengthening. I fear soon the invasion of Earth will begin again.”
Elmo thought for a moment. He did recall remembering a series of unexplained disappearances of women early in the twentieth century.
“I’ve been to your planet Elmo, so have others from Roth. But because of the strict rules of our people, we are not allowed to interfere with your civilization. Imagine the hysteria that would ensue if I were to appear. Knowing your love for weaponry, I doubt if I would have existed long enough to tell my story. You cannot imagine the joy, the relief all my brothers and I felt when you came to us. We hope to learn of this component contained in your atmosphere and banish this plague from our planet.”
Elmo’s mind was overwhelmed by this awesome assignment. “I am a physicist, not a chemist,” he protested. But his mind began to consider the evidence. Something in the Earth’s atmosphere sickened these beasts. The concentration of whatever it was continued to climb until it began killing them. Now, it is decreasing, yet this mysterious component of Earth’s atmosphere remains unknown. Elmo considered, “The only component of the atmosphere that is changing is carbon dioxide – producing the supposed greenhouse effect. But that gas continues to increase as the population and industry of our planet grows.”
Valmid stood and said, “It is nearly dawn, we should all get some rest.” He extended his hand to Cal and, as Elmo bounced along behind, they went upstairs.
Elmo went to bed but not to sleep. He pondered what he had just been told. Finally, he fell asleep with his mind still in torment. Blinding light entered through the unshielded window, awakening Elmo as his mind once again filled with the mystery he was asked to solve. He lay there thinking and testing theory after theory. There was nothing he could think of that had increased in the Earth’s atmosphere, then decreased without being detected. Elmo decided he must rest more. He cleared his mind and suddenly it came to him – crystal clear. He sat upright in bed and struck his forehead with his hand. “Of course, that has to be it!”
Valmid was aware of Elmo’s thoughts all morning. He now entered Elmo’s bedroom with a smile on his face “Come my friend,” he said, “we have much to plan and work to do.”
ELMO’S SOJOURN, CHAPTER 6
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 6
REVELATIONS FROM VALMID
Valmid invited Elmo to walk with him and discover the beauty of Roth. As they opened the door, the dingo plants were pulling back their last extended strands of nighttime growth. The sky, colored the deepest lavender Elmo had ever seen, was dotted with fluffy clouds of lemon yellow. This world was so different yet so beautiful. Elmo sniffed the air and detected the salty tang of the ocean. Valmid nodded yes. “We are near the sea.”
A path from the house led to a slight rise. As they set out Valmid shortened his stride, enabling Elmo to stay by his side. Zytex followed them, his roving eye taking in the sights of the home he had almost lost. They passed other Rothians along their climb up the rise. Valmid greeted them with his whining turbine voice and nodded to Elmo, appearing to tell the other aliens something of him. As soon as Valmid finished, Elmo noticed relief in the faces of the others. Once they had climbed to the top of the rise, the beauty of the seascape below struck Elmo with peaceful thoughts of home. An expanse of ocean, deep blue, stretched into infinity, the water turning shades of turquoise and green close to shore. “At least,” Elmo thought, “the ocean looks like home.”
A few solitary islands broke the horizon and alien pleasure craft dotted the surface, accompanied by an occasional sail billowing in the wind. The beach was the darkest black Elmo had ever seen. He thought there might be black sand on Earth, but he had never seen a beach this color. The scene was beautiful, with sights both familiar and entirely new, enhanced by aliens from another world enjoying a peaceful day by the ocean.
Elmo’s day was spent observing what life was like on planet Roth. The streets were mostly deserted except for the occasional Rothian car zipping by and the high-pitched whine of the Rothians greeting one another. Would he ever grow accustomed to that sound? Elmo spent a pleasant day with Valmid, walking and discussing Earth and Roth, the similarities and differences between the two planets. Zytex was never far behind, although he would sometimes stray. Valmid would then shout to him and grin as Zytex’s eye looked skyward and his small arms shot up as if to say, “Who me?”
As they walked the streets, Elmo noticed that a few structures similar to Valmid’s home seemed deserted. Just as on Earth, when a caring hand does not tend the property, it shows.
Valmid’s mind blanked as they passed these abandoned dwellings, as if there was something about the properties he wished to conceal. Elmo enjoyed being with Valmid, felt he could trust him, but at the same time felt there was something Valmid was hiding. But there was so much for Elmo to learn and experience in such a short period of time that the thought of some secret being kept drifted to the back of his mind.
The day went by rapidly for Elmo on this new world. The clouds took on a hint of emerald as the two followed by Zytex, headed home. Approaching the house, Valmid screeched a greeting to Cal standing in the doorway.
Elmo sat down to another Rothian meal of unfamiliar but tasty food. He wondered what type of animal and plant life he was consuming – there was still so much he wanted to learn of this planet. While Valmid and Elmo were gone, Cal had programmed the computer to display various scenes of Roth on the wall mounting, and as each scene was displayed either Valmid or Cal provided a narration. Elmo saw vast canyons and spectacular mountain ranges. He considered the differences between the inhabitants of Earth and Roth but acknowledged that the biology was basically the same. Now he realized that along with the biology, the geology of Roth must also roughly correspond to that of Earth.
The three talked late into the night, the only real sound the occasional report of the dingo plants as some small critter trespassed near the house. The fullness of the day and the quantity of information Elmo had absorbed took its toll and he began nodding off. He bid his friends goodnight and bounced up stairs that made him feel as if he were a toddler. Upon entering the bedroom, he was pleased to see the bed turned down and his pajamas laid out. Soon he was under the covers and fast asleep. But his rest did not last long. Howling and screeching pierced the night accompanied by the shrill voices of Valmid and Cal. Another sound accompanied all this turmoil, a metallic noise that rang throughout the house. Elmo soon discovered the source of the clanking as thick sheets of metal slid over his windows, leaving him sitting in total darkness, unable to imagine what was happening.
Elmo stumbled from his room into the hallway, only to encounter Valmid and Cal in an extreme state of distress. He noticed perspiration on Valmid’s brow. Since Elmo arrived on Roth Valmid had exhibited such a serene, calming countenance that to see him upset made Elmo’s uneasiness grow even deeper. He followed Valmid and Cal downstairs, and shortly they were all sitting around the kitchen table with mugs of a warm beverage resembling tea before them.
Valmid gazed at Elmo. “There is something I have been keeping from you my friend,” he said. “Something that threatens this planet and might once again threaten Earth. What you heard tonight was the alarm sounded by the dingo plants to an invasion by the inhabitants of the planet Gylex, a distant planet revolving around a star in much the same way Roth and Earth do. The inhabitants of Gylex have also discovered the secret of time-space travel, but their intentions are most nefarious.”
“You see,” he continued, “our homes are not surrounded by dingo plants to prevent crime – there is little crime on Roth. Rather, these plants surround our homes to sound the alarm if invaders from Gylex are nearby. We do not fully understand the relationship between the dingo plants and these beings, but when a Gylexan is in the vicinity of a dingo plant, the plants emit a piercing scream. We propagate these plants to warn us of invasion. We have cameras mounted outside the house to record these intrusions. Let us see if they recorded anything tonight.”
They all went into the living room and sat facing one of the wall hangings. Valmid pushed buttons on a remote and the pleasant scenes of the planet Roth were replaced by the view from the house. While doing this, he told Elmo, “In the short time you have been with us, I feel I have gotten to know you. You have experienced so much since you arrived. I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you how you could be of benefit to my planet. Now I will show you.”
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