The Thing They Called God

Hello All:
It's official! We threw out the rotting pumpkins over the weekend. Don't they look to be in a sad state on the fireplace mantel?
***
Today's featured writing is a new short story about a thing that people called God.
The Thing They Called God

God finally came one day. He finally made himself visible to the world.  At least that's how people perceived it. God had finally come as promised in all the ancient books and scriptures. Again, at least that's who people believed it was.

The thing they called God just appeared one day in the sky. It was an astronomical sized face that really wasn't much of a face. It was more of a mask that covered a face with eyes that shone with not much to be seen in them. There was a recognizable nose and mouth. But these things were only made evident in the mask that was worn over the face of the thing they called God. Being that it was astronomical in size; wherever you happened to be in the world, one would look up in the sky to see the thing that they called God.

The sun went away, the moon, stars, blue sky, clouds—anything that man had ever remembered of the sky, it was now gone to be replaced by an astronomical face that wore a mask and hovered some distance above to stare at the activities of man below. No matter where you were in the world; North America, South America, Asia, Africa, Europe; no matter what your latitude and longitude coordinates were, you would see the same thing in the sky that people in other parts of the world would see—an astronomical face that was covered in a mask. It was the thing they called God.

On that very day the entire world's population, billions of them, stopped what they were doing to come out of their houses, places of work, schools, places of worship—wherever they were—to look up in awe, wonder and fear to contemplate at what they were seeing. Every news source and media platform reported the event. All bandwidth of the Earth's media was used to report the final arrival of the thing they called God.

Initially, people were fearful, and were not sure what it meant. What was the thing they called God going to do? People waved at it, prayed to it and knelt down in hopes to earn favor. But the thing they called God wasn't the least bit responsive, didn't seem to care what people were doing. It made no effort to communicate or acknowledge humans. It just remained in the sky, staring at the people below with eyes that had no color or life. It was expressionless.

This wonder and awe of this worldwide phenomenon went on for a couple of days. Eventually people went back to their usual activities and understood that the thing they called God simply had come as promised. Perhaps this was the next stage in Earth's history. For thousands of years there was a portion of humanity that always believed in God—believed in all the things written in the ancient scriptures and texts. There was also a portion of people who did not believe in God. But now it was there, up in the sky. The existence of God was completely undebatable. It even had the ability to defy science. We know that the Earth is round and surrounded by the vast depth of space. Depending on where you are on Earth, where you look in the sky you see a different view which depends on the positioning of the Earth and your location. But now it was almost as if the entire world were flat and seeing the same thing; just the face of the thing they called God. As for atheists, they couldn't argue with what was physically present even though it defied all science and logic. But it was there. So they naturally begin to believe in the existence of God. Seeing, after all, is believing.

***

Within exactly one week from the time that the thing they called God first arrived, changes began to take place on the earth. These changes were horrible! It started with all world’s leaders; presidents, prime ministers, governors, kings, dictators, mayors of cities, police commissioners, even executives of corporations—anyone who served a leadership role for their location. They suddenly died in a horrible way.

There were two possible means of this horrible death. The first means began with a sharp headache which grew to an unbearable magnitude. The person suffering this soon death felt like his or her head were about to explode. Then, finally, when screaming from the overwhelming pain; the head would physically explode. This explosion resulted in blood and brains spraying all over the nearby surroundings.

The second means involved a feeling of overwhelming heat. The person suffering this death complained that he or she felt like they were about to burst into flames. It wasn't uncommon for them to remove articles of clothing or look for nearby water to splash on themselves. But soon, their bodies began to melt as-if they had burst into flames. It was the most God-awful thing watching a sufferer of this death screaming in horror as their face melted along with the rest of the body. The end result was a heap of blood, guts and bones that lay on the ground.

The tragic, horrible deaths were surely caused by the thing they called God. The survivors, of were terribly shocked and grief stricken. But after a day or so of the tragedy, there were people who began to speculate that perhaps it was only natural for God to destroy its leaders. The world no longer needed leaders. The world had the thing they called God to rule its people. Additionally, it was speculated that the majority—if not all—of the world's leaders were corrupted and sinister; some of them downright evil. Again, it was only natural for the thing they called God to destroy these people.

And then countless people throughout the world now had an important job to do. They had to clean up all the blood, guts and remains of the world's leaders. It couldn't have been expected of emergency services to do all of this alone. So people volunteered to help with the horrible mess. It was beginning to smell pretty bad due to decaying rotting flesh that could soon cause diseases and plague.

But they couldn’t get this done fast enough for the on the very next day, the thing they called God caused a new tragedy. This time he caused all the wealthy throughout the world to die in a similar fashion to the world’s leaders; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning. There were quite a few of them, assuming you are not aware of how many wealthy people there are. Even the loved ones of those world's wealthiest people were considered equally wealthy. They were destroyed as well.

But wealth is a relative thing. Who exactly was qualified to be wealthy?

It seemed to be people who were multi-millionaires or billionaires. The thing they called God wasn't so much interested in that moment of people with high paying careers and earning six figure salaries. Sure, those people are wealthier and better off than we are. But in the second round of deaths brought on by the thing they called God, it was the multi-millionaires and billionaires who had been destroyed. I'm sure you can imagine just how much tragedy had occurred during the second wave of deaths.

The world now had additional work to do, clean up the gruesome remains of the wealthy people along with the world leaders before disease and plague spread.

Oh, but it got even worse. On the third day the thing they called God eliminated accomplished people; people who had reached a certain degree of success in their lives—not necessarily multi-millionaires or billionaires. These would have been professional athletes, well known actors and actresses, popular musicians, popular artists—anyone who spent their life chasing a dream to be a superstar. They were destroyed by the thing they called God. It was the same tragedy; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning. And of course there were plenty of loved ones who grieved and mourned over the deaths of the accomplished people.

It was on the third round of deaths that people began to show some resentment towards the thing they called God. After all, just because someone chased a dream and had success didn't necessarily make them a bad person. Many of those accomplished people had donated to charities and helped those in need. They were loving people. Why did the thing they called God have to destroy them?

But just to prove a point, the thing they called God sent a warning to the world by destroying those people who were angry; those people who looked up at the sky and shook their fist at the thing they called God while questioning its reasoning. Immediately, they experienced the wrath with the usual death; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning.

Earth’s survivors of the first three waves of deaths learned their lesson not to question when the thing they called God killed certain people. After all, this could very well have been the apocalypse that had mentioned in many ancient texts. People who reached this conclusion turned to their religions and began practicing the things they were taught to value. Perhaps it was best not to consider one’s own selfish needs while questioning the motives of the thing they called God

By the fourth day things were quiet with the thing they called God—not that it ever said anything. But there were no waves of killings which gave the surviving population of Earth a chance to hurry and clean the blood and guts that were splattered everywhere. The dead were stacking up all over streets, houses, stores, places of business, and places of worship. Earth was a total disaster, and it was beginning to smell due to the overwhelming amount of rotting flesh. The survivors of Earth worked day and night to try to clean.

There were people who almost spoke up to the thing they called God, begging him not to cause any more waves of death. Earth needed a chance to be clean. People feared that their food and water would soon be poisoned. But they knew better. They knew that this would be considered questioning and going against the will of God.  Many survivors were going on days without sleep while cleaning up the dead. Most—if not all people—were practicing humbleness and placing their selfish perceptions aside by not questioning the reasoning of the thing they called God. It was best to demonstrate selfless acts while understating the transformation of becoming unified with the mind of God. People continued to move forward with cleaning the decaying mess that had been created by the thing they called God.

This quiet stage had gone on for about a week. By the end of this quiet stage, much of the Earth had been cleaned up. Those still alive were now exhausted, but they did their best to keep themselves together. They almost had a sense of accomplishment; feeling that they succeeded in a certain test or trial that had been issued by the thing they called God.

But the thing they called God had other plans. Around this time there was a new wave of deaths. This time the world's intelligent and educated people were eliminated; all scientists, doctors, engineers and the likes. They were all put to death like in the previous waves of deaths; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning. It was another horrible mess. The loved ones were mortified and deeply saddened. Some people were feeling discouraged not to mention outraged and unable to contain their contempt. There were a few who spoke up to the thing they called God. Doctors, scientists, engineers and the likes were all good people. They had helped the world many times over. What could they have possibly done that was so wrong?

Of course the people who complained experienced the usual death. As for the wise people who remained silent; they understood why the thing the thing they called God eliminated doctors, scientists and engineers. It’s because these people would have been able to help by creating innovative ways to overcome this new ugly phase of Earth. The thing they called God didn't want educated and intelligent people to help humanity—maybe even overcome the will of the thing they called God. So they were done away with.

A couple days passed, and alas, there was another wave of deaths. What could the thing they called God want to get rid of now? All the world leaders were gone, the wealthy, highly accomplished people, and the educated people. Who could God have possibly wanted to eliminate?

It was the world's beautiful and talented people. They weren't necessary successful and accomplished. Yet they had exceptional talents or blessings. Many were artists, musicians, writers, poets; some of them were simply charismatic people who had a way of almost healing others by simply their presence. Other people were simply beautiful who made others feel good when looked at. The world's lovers were taken away as well. It seemed that this wave hit anyone who represented the beautiful facets of humanity; some of those things being qualities that religions cited to be models for people to strive for. People with divine gifts were killed by the thing they called god; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning. And needless to say they had so many loved ones who would sorely miss them. All the world could do was pull themselves together and resume cleaning the bloody, decaying mess from the Earth.

After killing the people with exceptional talents and blessings, the thing they called God seemed to be done with its waves of deaths. It seemed satisfied; up there in the sky and looking down at the Earth; never moving or exhibiting facial expressions. It just watched in silence and never offered one bit of encouragement to humanity as it cleaned the bloody mess that was caused by the very thing they called God.

But killings weren’t done away with completely. It was around this time when the killings were small scale. In these times, without warning, the thing they called God would created a horrible death for just a few people. It did this in the usual manner; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning. And there was no correlation; no understandable reason why that particular person or small group of people had been killed. The act was completely random. And this is when panic began to reignite among the Earth's survivors. Soon people feared that they would be next.

It wasn’t uncommon for someone to be so struck by the anticipation of being the next to die. He or she felt as though they could interpret the writing on the wall; almost know for certain that they would be next. Someone in this condition might have gone out to the street to kneel before the thing they called God to pray and beg for life to be spared. He or she promised to be obedient servant and learn to live in harmony.

But the thing they called God wasn't there to negotiate with humanity. As the human knelt in the street to pray, he or she would experience the horrible death; head exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning which left a heaping mess of blood and guts on the street. It served as an example that the thing they called God was not to be reasoned or negotiated with. This is what survivors understood.

There were others who were equally fearful of being next to die but had a different solution. Since these were such ugly times for the Earth, a person in a worrisome state actually killed a family member, friend, or merely someone nearby as a sacrifice to appease the thing they called God. Maybe if he or she killed for the thing they called God, it would spare the killer’s life. One might think this would have been a bad idea because it would have resulted in punishment. But surprisingly, it seemed to have worked. It granted the wished-for effect which spared the killer's life.

So was this considered negotiating?

Not at all! It was soon realized that these killing acts only prolonged the killers' duration of life by a few days or a week. The thing they called God followed through with its intent to kill the original person whose life had simply been prolonged by offering sacrifices. For these people it came down to one question: what would you do to prolong your life for a few more days on Earth? Would you kill your fellow man?

***

Needless to say, life had become very different on the Earth. People had a new purpose and direction. Once upon a time people woke up in the morning, ate breakfast and went to work or school. But the simple acts of eating breakfast and going to work to earn money could have been considered selfish deeds. And these selfish deeds could have resulted in death by the thing they called God. At least this is what people speculated. Again, they were looking for any way to appease the thing they called God to avoid the horrible deaths. And so during this new time on Earth, people would wake up in the morning to assemble out in the streets to begin cleaning the decaying mess of those who had been killed. And they were doing it not to clean their own environment; make it healthy and beautiful for themselves. Rather they were cleaning the blood and guts to make the world beautiful for the thing they called God. People wanted to make sure that the thing they called god had no reminder of what it had done. People wanted to ensure that the world below the thing they called God remained beautiful. This is a step that many of the Earth survivors took towards being devoted servants to the thing they called God. They did not start their day by eating breakfast, grooming themselves or putting on clean clothes. The immediately went out into the street to find ways to appease the thing they called God.

Of course they did have to do selfish acts to survive. Eating was part of it. But it was done late in the evening, hidden in the houses so that the thing they called God would not have to see. Surely it knew that people were eating, but hopefully it was aware they were hiding in an attempt to be respectful, shrouding their weakness and needs for food. Nothing was ever cooked during these times. Cooking food has a nice smell which makes people happy. People knew that the thing they called God did not like happiness. Definitely they wouldn't have cooked or eaten meat. Again, meat smells wonderful when cooked and eating meat strengthens the body. Eating meat was considered terribly selfish. It was best to just open a can of peaches or find some crackers in the cupboard. If one was lucky, he or she might have received a visit from a neighbor, offering canned food or boxes of crackers or chips. But they didn't do it out of concern for one's neighbor. They did it to demonstrate selflessness, to show the thing they called God that he or she was rejecting their selfish needs and desires. Perhaps this would have spared or prolonged life on Earth.

There was a brief moment during this time when devoted servants would go out into the street in the early morning to bow down while looking up in the sky in worship to the thing they called God. They gave glory, praise and thanks for another day to be alive. But you see this practice actually elevated the spirits of the devoted servants which was forbidden. So the thing they called God immediately destroyed the person who was praying in the morning. There was no need to pray. Praying was a selfish thing to do, and demonstrated hope of seeking favor with the thing they called God. The only way to give true praise and glory to the thing they called God was to live in constant fear while rejecting one’s own selfish desires and needs. For that matter, praying was soon abolished by the remainder of Earths people. There was no point.

***

One day, there was a new wave of massive deaths that took place on Earth. The thing they called God did this to women. It was noticed that when men would work and clean up the bloody mess of those who had been killed that their spirits were lifted when women were nearby. All it took was simple conversation, receiving a smile or a momentary locking of eyes. Maybe it was simply standing in the distance and noticing how beautiful a woman is. Whatever pleasure it was that men had towards women, it was unacceptable to the thing they called god. There was to be no pleasure, happiness or lifting of spirits. For that matter, the thing they called God did away with the Earth's women.

It was done in a horrible manner, not like before; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning. This time women were given horrible cramps in their lower abdomens to the point of keeling over on the street. From there they would give birth to a dozen or more poisonous vipers that tore their way out through the woman's vagina. She would lay there screaming in terror while witnessing what was happening. And it was a bloody mess because the vipers were ripping their way out. Then the vipers would repeatedly bite the woman with their poison before feasting on her flesh.

Men would pass the women by on the streets and ignore them while they were being devoured for hours by the serpents. And they wouldn't dare complain of the horror. They kept their mouths shut and stayed away to avoid punishment.

Then there was another wave of deaths. This time it was the friends. There were now only men remaining on the earth who began to form friendships to help cope with the horrible events taking place. The thing they called God noticed that these friendships were uplifting and positive. This was unacceptable to the thing they called God. There were to be no good feelings shared between friends, even if it were kind words shared between people. So the thing they called God caused the friends to die; heads exploding or body suddenly melting into the ground as if burning.

All that survived was a population of Earth's people who remained in fear while distancing themselves from one another. They worked as slaves to clean up the bloody mess and remain of those who had been killed. Earth’s survivors were servants to the thing they called God; never seeking benefit—even the benefit of trying to stay alive.

There were a handful of people on Earth's population who had watched the horrible times since it all started. They actually thought to themselves, "This isn't God. God doesn't do these horrible things. This is some evil entity that has somehow found its way into our world to cause horrible things to happen to the human race.” But they wouldn't dare voice this for they knew it would result in a horrible death.

Then again, maybe that was the paradox. Maybe it was better to be one of the first people who had been killed by the thing they called God than to waste one's life trying to appease the thing they called God by transforming into empty, lifeless servants.

The End!

Mars--the ghost planet?

 Hello All:

Have a great weekend! And if you look up at Mars in the sky, realize that what you are seeing is a mirage.

Mars--the ghost planet?

In recent news Mars does not exist. Scientists have determined that the famous “red planet”, fourth from the sun, has never been in the sky. It's actually a mirage out in space, a phenomenon that scientists are still trying to understand. They hypothesize that Mars could very well be our psychological placement of an object that we think should be "there".

So what is it that we are seeing when we look up at the sky and clearly see Mars?

It’s explained that at most, we are physically seeing any number of asteroids that are within the orbit between Earth and Jupiter. Asteroids could be any number of colors as seen out in space. We simply pick the red one and assign Mars to it on any given night.

 What about successful space missions to Mars? Surely this would have to account for something.

Space missions to Mars were most likely Earth spacecrafts that landed on a large asteroid between Earth and Jupiter. Scientists previously assumed that they successfully landed on the imaginary “red planet”. They are certainly embarrassed now that they know the truth.

What about the centuries of views of Mars through the telescope?

It is said that the exciting views of the “red planet” from Earth through telescopes are nothing more than projected mirages from space. Mars has been completely fabricated in our imaginations. We expect to see it in the sky. We insist that it is there. And then our minds play tricks on us so that our eyes see it through a telescope.

This mirage phenomenon explains the reports from a hundred or more years ago of Mars having forests and the famous canals that joined different regions on the sol called "red planet". Astronomers in those days used to see things like this in their telescopes. Again, it was only a mirage, something fabricated in their imaginations. So when looking through a telescope they additionally saw the canals, the forests, and in some cases the polar caps.

Paranormal investigators have jumped the bandwagon on this recent discovery of the “red planet” being imaginary. They are saying that perhaps Mars really was a planet at one time or another between Earth and Jupiter. It might have been blown to smithereens in a prehistoric nuclear war, long before the people of Earth would have been intelligent to view and interpret such a thing.  It is simply a ghost now. At most, Mars can now be considered the "ghost planet". It doesn't exist; it's a mirage; yet it continues to haunt us in the sky as our imaginations place it there where we think it should be.

An Ambiguous Appointment

Hello All:

Today's featured writing is yet another dream that I just had to share with you. But unlike the past dreams that I have shared with you, this one did not occur in the early morning hours. Rather, it was a dream—more of a nightmare—that occurred a few hours after falling asleep. If you know anything about dreaming, REM cycles and sleep patterns; then you know that we sleep deeper in the early part of the evening. Scientists say that we have horrific nightmares at this time. The nightmares are so bad that we forget all of them by morning.

But sometimes we do remember one of those nightmares, particularly if waking up in the middle of the night while screaming. You'll agree that the experience is a bit traumatic. As for the others that are typically forgotten, I suppose this is nature’s way of helping us maintain our sanity.

But, again, that's not what happened to me. I immediately woke up in a horrified state while in the middle of this nightmare. Looking back, it wasn't all that bad. I wasn’t traumatized by it. By morning I was 100% fine, but I do remember all the details. Still, it made me lay in bed for a while in fear that something bad was about to happen. Maybe the nightmare was serving as an indicator. And the more I thought about it, the more the symbology could have been interpreted as any number of horrible things.

The dream actually reminded me of a couple of short stories I had written around 2009. They ended up in a very short story book that went for 99 cents at the time. It was titled, Hypnotic Intrusions. But what was "hypnotic intrusions"? What did the title mean?

Well I wasn't sure what to call the book, but I wanted to imply that the stories contained thieves and assailants who were capable hypnotizing their way into a home. Not necessary to break into a house to steal; simply ask to be let in and have the homeowner agree to do so through hypnosis. It was probably similar to the movie, Poltergeist Two, in which the ghost of insane preacher, Rev. Henry Kane, went up to the front door of the homeowner, Steven Freeling, and demanded to be let in. In case you don't know what I'm talking about, check out the You Tube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOxaZBJQdv0

Although similar to the scene in Poltergeist Two, the actual concept of hypnotic intrusions was inspired by a trend that I had noticed throughout the early to mid 2000s. It involved door to door salespeople who would stand at your front porch and smile when you opened the front door. They would warmly greet you, and act as though you were an old friend. If you happened to look out your front window to see who it was before answering the door, the salesperson would smile and wave. It would lead you to wonder who it was. And you would be quick to run over and answer the door, anticipating a visit from one of your family members or an old friend.

This technique of tricking the homeowner of opening the door and possibly letting the sales person in by simply smiling and being friendly was so effective that my wife actually invited a salesperson into the home. It didn't take long; I'd say maybe less than ten seconds.

My wife was home alone on an afternoon. (We were living in an apartment at the time.) She received a knock at the door so she opened it.

There stood a female salesperson who was so overjoyed to see my wife. "Hi!" she excitedly greeted. "How are you doing?"

Immediately, my wife believed it to be her old school friend. She actually hugged the salesperson and brought her into the apartment.

And that's when my wife realized that it wasn't her old friend. It was a salesperson with products to sell. Such a dirty trick...

So I wrote a couple of stories on this method that I call "hypnotic intrusions". The actual story book has been unpublished. It no longer exists. But one of the stories was absorbed into my storybook, Freaked out Horror in a work titled, Home Invasion. The other one can be found on my blog—a very short work—titled, Smile at the Door.

I seem to have a fascination with this people coming to the door and trying to trick themselves in. A few years ago I had a dream that I shared with you on the blog about two women who I perceived as being—perhaps—gypsies. They didn't look like gypsies, but there was just something about their mannerisms and being that reminded me of gypsies in the dream.

They actually came to the sliding back door to my backyard.

I opened the door a crack and was immediately asked if I needed new siding on my house.

I quickly answered, "Well as you can see, our house is all brick. We don't need siding."

But then they continued by offering all sorts of things ranging from college tuition savings for my kids to new windows for my home. In all cases I turned them down.

Finally, one of the women told me that they would be willing to accept anything they could give. They weren't picky; they just wanted anything—anything I could give them. But what she was really trying to say—as interpreted in the actual dream—was that she had come to suck the very life out of me; move into a place as a parasite, take what she could get, and then move once we were no longer useful. Again, she didn't say this directly, but I interpreted it this way in the dream.

I woke up shortly after that. The dream was a bit disturbing; I wondered what it meant.

***

And then there is today's featured writing. I think what I want to do this time instead of relaying the dream to you in first person narrative, I want to turn the dream over to a character and tell you the story in third person narrative. I'm sure you are all tired of hearing me relay my dreams as, "I did this... then I did that... My wife said this me... then I said that..." Sometimes stories are much more enjoyable to read in third person narrative. I'll use the old characters, Mario and Cynthia, from the short story that appears in Freaked out Horror, Home Invasion.

An Ambiguous Appointment

It was a late Saturday afternoon as Mario sat in the family room, watching the ball game on TV. His wife, Cynthia, was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Their three kids were all in their own bedrooms, doing their own things to keep themselves occupied—whatever those things might be.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Annoyed, Mario stood up. "Ughh... I wonder who this could be." He strolled over to the door and opened it a crack to see who was outside.

There on the porch stood an attractive, young woman. She was the sophisticated business-type; very professional appearing. She had long dark hair that was neatly brushed down, and glasses perhaps to indicate an intelligence or element of being intellectual. She had a briefcase in her hand.

"Yes, can I help you?" asked Mario.

The woman smiled. "I'm here. We can get started."

“Started with what? challenged Mario.

The woman laughed. “That's really funny. Seriously, we can get to business now.”

Mario suddenly didn't have a good feeling about her. "And what business would that be?"

"Well..." began the woman. "You had a certain need to produce an outcome based on your expectations that simply were not being fulfilled. I am here with the objective to show you how to fulfill those expectations. We had an appointment, don't you remember?"

Mario returned a queer look. "No I don't remember. And that's quite a vague explanation. Could you be a little more specific?"

"I'm not sure how much more specific I could be." argued the woman.

By then, Cynthia had come to the door. She was curious as to who the visitor was. "Hi, good afternoon!"

"Hi, yes, I'm here." returned the woman. "I'm here to get started, but your husband doesn't seem to understand. We can talk business and get everything taken care of for you."

Mario looked over to his wife Cynthia, "I don't know who she is, or what she is asking about. She's not being very straight forward."

“Oh Mario!” complained Cynthia. Her husband was always like this. "Just let her in." She reached her hand for the door handle to open it. But Mario grabbed the handle before she could reach it.

"No!" Mario insisted. "Not until we find out who she is or what it is that she wants." Then he looked over at the woman. "I'm going to ask you one more time; what appointment did we have with you, and what is it that you want?"

The woman reached for the inner pocket of her blazer and removed a small appointment book. "I have an appointment written down right here with Mario and Cynthia Mendez? Is this you?"

"Don't answer that question!" urged Mario to his wife. "We don't have to answer who we are."

Cynthia laughed and poked fun of her husband at that moment. "Well you sort of just did inform her of who we are by doing that. Come-on, Mario, just let her in. You know she's legit. She's got our names and she has an appointment written in her book. Just let her in. It's probably very important. Don't you remember anything about inviting her?"

"No I don't!" returned Mario. He looked back at the woman who now exhibited a disappointed and confused look on her face. But Mario could read through her. It was all an act. Aside from that, she was being so vague with her purpose for visiting. Mario had no recollection of making an appointment to discuss any failed expectations with anybody. "I’m going to have to ask you to leave." declared Mario.

"Mario!" sharply called out Cynthia.

With his hands still on the door to prevent Cynthia from opening it, Mario glared back at his wife. "Do you not understand what is happening here? This is some kind of salesperson; someone who could very well be trying trick her way into our house; maybe to case us out so they can clean us out later when we are not home."

The woman at the door was flabbergasted upon hearing this.

Cynthia was embarrassed. But she was beginning to understand her husband's point. "Mario, I know she might be dangerous. I know she could be trying to trick her way in here to case the place out. Or she could be a door-to-door salesperson who might be trying to scam us into giving her money. But we are obligated to be nice to her. We are nice people. So we need to open our door to let her in."

"No we don't!" snapped Mario. He kept a firm grip on the handle so his wife could not open it.

With that, the woman put on a performance. She pretended to cry; acting like her feelings were hurt. "Fine, if this is how it's going to be... I made a special trip out here to help you—and you invited me here—we had an appointment. And now you are not going to let me in. I guess with that, I'm just going to have to leave." She forced a fake sniffle and rubbed her eyes while walking away.

Mario shut the door. And that was the end of the strange woman with the ambiguous appointment.

The End!

The Dead Forest--chapter six

Hello All:

"Happy Halloween! 
All last week and today has been very, special at The Literary World of Tom Raimbault; for this has been Halloween week! In celebration of the holiday we rolled out a new novella titled The Dead Forest. Today's blog post is the exciting conclusion."

The Dead Forest--chapter six

Much had changed in recent months pertaining to the level of relationship between Donna and Stan. Donna initially didn’t tell Stan about Fredrick’s misfortune because her feelings were much stronger, then, in comparison to how they were in the previous year. That spring ritual obviously caused some serious changes for Donna. Still, way in the back of her mind, she experienced an internal conflict with Frederick; and realized that he would be coming home soon. Donna would be obligated to be with him in this time of need, and eventually marry him. 

Donna was at a loss of what to do. This internal conflict went on for over a week until one night she finally mentioned Fredrick’s misfortune to Stan. She was initially fearful in doing this, recalling the way Stan reacted earlier in the spring when mentioning that Fredrick had written her and inquired about the rumor of her and Stan.

But it was no longer spring which meant that Stan wasn't so crazy with his episodes of neurosis. He seemed understanding of Donna’s circumstance, and then calmly suggested,  “You need to break away from those things that have been holding you back from become the true Donna; the Donna that you truly want to be in your heart. And I think I have the perfect solution.

“And what would that be?” asked Donna.

It was this very moment when Stan’s annual morbid fetishes began to manifest. They inspired the plans for a morbid ritual that he and Donna could do in the woods that would finally help her break free of those things that trapped her. And the more he spoke of this ritual, the more his selfish desires fueled those morbid fetishes.

 He said to Donna, “I know this might sound crazy. But what we can do is dig a hole right near the tree, deep enough to bury a large, wooden box. I’ll do that; you don’t have to worry about coming out here and doing hard work. Now this wooden box; we will make it large enough so that you can fit in. It’ll be like a coffin. In fact, it will be your coffin.”

Donna’s face contorted and made a queer expression. She was beginning to dislike the sound of Stan’s idea.

 “Trust me.” Insisted Stan. “Now you won’t be dead when you climb into the box below the ground. You’ll only pretend to be dead. And I’ll bury you until the hole is filled up. Then, as soon as I’m finished, I’ll dig you up again. Like I said before, you’ll pretend to be dead until I open the box—your coffin—to make love to you. For all practical purposes, the Donna who once was will be dead. But the new Donna--the true Donna who you wish to be in our heart—will come to life after I kiss you.”

Donna immediately rejected the game. It was morbid, for one. There was also the possibility that something could go terribly wrong. What if she panicked underground, and died before Stan reached her?

Stan insisted, "Really, Donna, it won't be that bad. Here... I want to show you something. Lay down on the blanket.” This was the blanket that the two had been sitting on in the forest during their late night picnic.

Reluctantly, Donna lay down on the blanket. She was a bit uneasy with whatever mysterious thing Stan had in mind.

 Stan took hold of the edge of the blanket. "Now just close your eyes.... and put your hand on your chest."

Donna immediately answered, "Oh, Stan, I don't want to do that. Nor do I want to play your morbid game!"

“Just try it!” insisted Stan. “Can’t you just be open-minded and give it a try?”

Reluctantly, Donna closed her eyes and put her hands on her chest as-if she were lying in a coffin.

When Stan saw her finally laying in the right position, he explained, "Now all I'm going to do is fold this blanket over you. It's going to be over your face. And I want you to imagine that you are covered up in a box.”

Kneeling on the ground, Stan folded the blanket over Donna's entire body, including her face. Then he announced, "See, you're covered up. Okay...? You can still breathe in there. You've got this blanket over your face, but there is still air in there, right?”

Donna pointed, "Yes, but there are holes in the blanket that allow air to get through.”

Stan answered, "Yes, I know. But why don't we do this. Why don't we try taking it to progressive steps? Next time we can put you in a cardboard box for about twenty minutes or so. And then we take the lid off and see that everything is okay."

"Oh, Stan, that's a silly idea" argued Donna. “Why is this so important to you?”

Stan explained, "Donna, I really want to do this with you because it will be a symbolic act that will put your life behind you so that you can start a new life with me. This will be a symbolic act which involves burying you in the Earth that's near the tree here. We know this tree has a spirit in it. We know that this tree is responsible for bringing us together. You agree with that, don't you?"

Donna nodded her head, "Yes..." By then she had the blanket pulled away from her face.

"So can we do that next time we are together?" nearly begged Stan. "Could we bring a cardboard box here to the woods; a box that is big enough for you to get inside of? I could probably get one at the gas station. We receive a lot of supplies throughout the week that are shipped in large boxes. I could just say I need one to pack something up at home.  I will, instead, bring it to the woods so that next time we are together, we can resume our exercise. You will get into the box for about twenty minutes and then come out. Does that sound okay with you?”

Donna agreed. “Okay, fine, we will do that. But I don't really understand how going in a box for 20 minutes is going to make it the same as being buried in a wooden coffin underground."

Trust me reassured Stan. We will do these progressive steps so that when the time comes for you to be finally buried in the ground, you will be so used to it that you will realize that you could be in there for an hour or two. And you'll be relaxed and everything will be okay. Can you just trust me?”

Donna paused for a few seconds. She sighed and said, "Okay, fine. I will trust you. Under one condition."

“What's that?” asked Stan, covering his sudden annoyance with Donna attempting to negotiate.

“You have to promise me that at any time I feel uncomfortable and say stop, you will listen to me. Whether you're putting the cover on or filling the hole with dirt, it doesn’t matter. You have to stop when I say.”

It seemed fair to Stan. "Okay, I agree.”

This agreement took place on a Wednesday night. Their next date was to be on that Friday of that week.

***

The following morning, Stan's father inquired Stan as to where he was going at night. This was while the two sat at the breakfast table before heading off to work. Father asked, "You know, I notice you've been going out late at night and then you come home at the wee hours of the morning. Where have you been going? More important, is this affecting your job? How are you working this?"

Stan reassured his father, "Oh no everything is fine with my job. I'm not tired or anything. As for where I am going; I really haven't said anything about it, but I have a girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Father repeated. "How come you never said anything about this to us before?"

"Well, I'm kind of keeping it a secret?" answered Stan.

“Secret?” probed Father. “Why are you keeping it a secret? Is she married?”

"No, she isn't married.” reassured Stan. “But she has a boyfriend."

"And he doesn’t know about it?"

Stan explained, "'Well, I'm kind of ashamed to admit, but her boyfriend is away at war. We're not too serious about this relationship at this point. But I really like her, and I like being around her. We just go out at night and hang out."

Father felt that maybe his young adult son could use some guidance. He began by asking an insightful question, "Well Stan, what are you going to do when her boyfriend comes back from war? And did she make an obligation to him to be faithful while he is away? Might you be presenting her with a conflict of interest?”

"She did." answered Stan. “She did promise him to be faithful. But Dad; as time goes on, it seems like she's forgetting about him more and more. It seems like she's becoming more and more interested in me. If I didn't know any better, I think we are falling in love.”

Father halfheartedly chuckled, "In love? I thought you said it wasn’t too serious a moment ago. And I wouldn’t be too quick to let your feelings get the best of you. Plenty could change once her boyfriend comes. Those old feelings could suddenly return. But if you think the two of you might be in love, you might want to lock this deal by marrying her. I bet you never considered that.” Father hoped to use the suggestion as a way to re-guide Stan away from what appeared to be misleading feelings. Stan was so young, and this was surely “puppy love” for him. And from what Father could determine, the relationship wouldn’t have been so serious as to consider marriage.

But Stan surprised Father with his answer. "I guess... Sometimes I think about it—marriage. I just don't know if I'd be able to go about it properly. I mean you make a good point. Why wouldn't I want to tie the knot with her and get married? But how do I go about doing this?

Well if Stan were such a man to make a serious life decision like this, maybe it was time for him to find a new job that could earn him more money. Father nodded his head in acknowledgement, "Well Stan, you've been working at this gas station and it's time for you to have a more substantial income... Have more of a man's job so to speak. I have a friend who is a one of those higher-up managers at an auto parts manufacturing plant. I think maybe I can get you a job there. I can talk to him; he can pull some strings, and maybe get you on the assembly line making some really good money. It might be piece work, but it usually ends up paying more than at a job like—say—the gas station. Then you could have a better income, and you'd be in a better position to ask her father in marriage. That is the proper way to go about it. You do know that, don't you?”

Stan nodded in affirmation.

Still in disbelief that his son was truly ready to take on a manlier role in life, Father continued with his test, "So what do you say I talk to my friend and see if he has any openings there; see if he can get you a job making more money. Then you could ask this girl’s father for her hand in marriage, and eventually propose to her. She might have to think about it because she did make an obligation to be faithful to this young man who is away at war. And while we’re on the subject, you were supposed to be there as well—away at war. But you didn't make it in boot camp, remember?

Stan looked down at the table, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. "I understand all of that. But, Dad, I really love this girl and feel that we are meant to be."

Father answered, "Very well then. I will talk to my friend, and we'll see if can get things going for you. So what's her name?"

"Donna..." answered Stan.

"Is she pretty?"

"Oh yes, very pretty! You know Lilly Munster from the TV show, The Munsters?"

Father laughed, "Get out of here! Are you serious?"

"Yes she kind of looks like her, but much younger."

***

 Just as Stan promised, he carried—actually dragged –a large cardboard box out into the woods beforehand, during daylight. No one saw him dragging the box out there. There was no problem bringing it to the old tree in the magickal valley of Donna’s spirit mother.

Late Friday night of that week, he and Donna ventured out to where the cardboard box waited for them. By that time, Stan had a good idea as to where he was going to dig Donna's grave. The box sat just like it would as if it were some feet below with Donna inside. Once the two reached it, Stan asked, "So are you ready? This should be pretty easy."

Donna shrugged her shoulders, "Sure..." She opened up the lid and looked inside. The large cardboard box was about five feet long and three feet deep. There was plenty of room for Donna to get inside. And it was just as Stan's morbid fantasy would dictate; the box was shaped like a coffin.

Donna lay down, inside.

"Very good." congratulated Stan. Then he directed; "Now I want you to close your eyes and rest your folded hands on your chest like you are dead.”

Initially, Donna wasn't comfortable with pretending to be dead inside of a box. But she did as Stan directed.

Stan put something on her chest; right on top of her folded hands.

Donna opened her eyes and looked down towards the area. It was a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh Stan!” exclaimed Donna. “I don't know if I like this game. You make it seem so real, like I were dead.

“Oh, but Donna…” insisted Stan. “We have to play it this way. We have to make it seem like you are really dead. You see, this life that you currently have with Fredrick, and the control that your parents have over you has to end. The Donna who has those obligations put on her has to die. That is why we are acting out you being dead. So just relax, close your eyes and pretend like you are dead. I have flowers put on you and I'm going to close the lid.

Donna said nothing. She simply closed her eyes and lay still while listening as Stan put the lid over the box. Of course she could breathe inside of the box. And she listened outside for Stan’s voice.

“We are going to do this for twenty minutes.” reminded Stan. “At the end of the twenty minutes, I'll open the lid up and we will see how you are. And remember, you are not really buried. So if you start to panic or can't breathe, just sit up in the box. Take the lid off. It's light.”

There was no answer from inside the box.

“Donna?” called out Stan.

Still no answer.

In a sudden panic, Stan lifted the lid. "Donna, are you okay?"

Donna opened her eyes, "Yes Stan, I'm being dead, remember?"

"Okay, you scared me for a second."

Donna smiled, "Are you sure you still want to do this?"

"Of course I still want to this. I just wasn't expecting you to suddenly be able to play dead so well.” Stan closed the lid, looked at his watch and then sat on the ground with his back against the cardboard box. He sat there for five minutes... ten minutes... It was really peaceful out there in the woods. Crickets were chirping. A couple of owls hooted. At one point there was some rustling off in the distance; probably a raccoon or a fox. At the end of the twenty minutes, he opened the lid and looked at Donna who lay still with eyes closed and folded hands on chest with flowers laid across. Stan didn't say anything. He simply kissed her lips.

Donna opened her eyes and playfully announced, "I'm back from the dead."

It was a quite a thrilling moments for Stan. What made it so enjoyable was the fact that Donna seemed to know how to play the part well. She could lay there in the coffin like a real corpse. And when he kissed her sweet lips, Donna came back to life, just as in Stan’s most morbid fantasies.

***

Donna wasn't able to get out of the house for about a week after her cardboard box adventure with Stan. On late Wednesday night of the following week, Stan went to her house like he usually did, but didn't see Donna standing on the side of the building. He concluded that there was a problem. Maybe Donna's parents were onto her. In fear of this speculation, Stan didn't dare go to her bedroom window and knock.

It’s a good thing he didn’t! There actually was a problem that Wednesday night.

No, her parents weren’t onto her. Rather, Donna's father was having difficulty sleeping. He walked about the house and watched TV throughout the night. Donna felt it wouldn’t be a good idea to sneak out the window with Father up and about. And like mentioned before, Stan was never able to call Donna on the phone or come to her door to see how things were. The two would have to be patient and try again in a couple of nights.

Stan returned on Friday—exactly one week after the cardboard adventure. On this night, Donna stood at the side of her house, waiting for Stan to meet her. Stan confirmed from Donna that there was, in fact, a problem. He was okay with this, of course. And as Stan would soon inform Donna, this awkward and inconvenient phase of their relationship would soon end.

On the ride to the Berry Bush Forest Preserve, Stan excitedly explained to Donna about the job interview that he had at the auto parts manufacturing plant. Father followed through with his promise and landed an interview for his son. "It looks really good for me.” he described. “They seemed to like me, and my Dad knows the manager who is a higher-up. My Dad’s friend is pulling some strings, and he's going to get me hired. Donna, I'll be able to move out and get a place of my own. We will be able to live together. Maybe we could get married."

Donna was a bit uncomfortable with the sudden mention of moving in with Stan and getting married. "Oh, Stan; I wouldn’t rush into things so quickly. And I would prefer to have a proper Catholic wedding. My parents would expect it of me."

Stan argued, "But Donna, don’t you remember; the whole point of this act of your symbolic death is so that you can leave your life behind. You will no longer have an obligation to have a good and proper Catholic wedding. And anytime you are ready to live with me—I suggest you do that as soon as possible—the place will be ready for you.”

Donna remained silent. She wasn’t sure what gave Stan the notion that she would leave her family behind. As for a good and proper Catholic wedding, Donna really wanted this.

Stan sensed that Donna wasn’t fully receptive to the idea just yet. “Well if anything, at least I will have my own place. And we don't have to do it all at once. You don't have to hurry up and move in with me once I get my own place. You can start off by visiting me on a regular basis, and see if you like it.”

Stan pulled into the Berry Bush Forest Preserve. It was a beautiful night, early August.  Long past curfew; any kids who would have been there necking had gone home for the evening. All alone, Stan and Donna exited the vehicle, proceeded to walk towards the main trail. They continued until reaching the place where they could deviate off the main trail, do some bush waking, and hike their way down the steep ravine to the magickal valley of Donna's spirit mother.

On this particular night, Stan had a surprise for Donna. Last time there was a cardboard box that waited for this. This time, Stan had assembled an actual wooden box. It was a makeshift, nothing perfect. It was made of plywood with some two by fours hammered together with nails. The box was really nothing spectacular, but it did the job. It was about the same size and shape of a coffin, and would ultimately be the wooden box that Donna would be buried in. Just like the cardboard box, the wooden version was large enough to accommodate her.

Stan and Donna held hands while walking up to it. Stan looked over and declared, "This is your coffin. This is where you will be laid to rest when we finally put you in the ground. Do you want to try it out?"

Surprisingly, Donna didn’t hesitate. "Sure..."

Stan lifted the plywood lid off the box. Keep in mind that there wasn't anything fancy; the lid didn't include hinges. It was simply a sheet of plywood that was cut to fit over the top, to be nailed shut before burying Donna in the ground. As for nails; there hadn't been an agreement, just yet, as to whether or not he should nail the lid shut; or if Stan should leave the lid un-nailed so that he could get to Donna faster if in the event that something went wrong during the burial. But then Stan theorized that maybe it would be better to nail the wooden box shut to prevent any shifting during the burial which could potentially cause tons of Earth to crush Donna to death. A secure lid could save her life. Stan hadn't explained these things to Donna just yet. For now he simply wanted her to try out the coffin like in the previous cardboard box exercise.

"Are you ready?” Stan asked.

Donna said nothing; simply climbed into the box, lay down and closed her eyes with hands resting on her chest.

"Very good." congratulated Stan. You are getting good at this. And just like last time, I will lay a bouquet of flowers on your chest.”  After doing so, he stood back and looked in the wooden box. Donna certainly appeared dead.

"Okay, I'm going to put the lid on." Stan announced. "This time we are going to increase the time to 45 minutes. Do you think you can handle being in the box for 45 minutes?"

There was no answer.

"Donna?"

Still no answer.

Stan checked Donna's face which was still warm. He placed his finger underneath her nose in which air could be felt; confirmation that she was still breathing. "Okay, you're just doing a really good job at playing dead. Being that you are not saying anything, I'm just going to assume that you will be okay staying in there for 45 minutes. And just like we agreed before, if there is a problem—feel like you are panicking or running out of air—simply push the lid off. It's light enough. It won't be a problem. This is all just training and conditioning for the real thing."

Stan laid the lid over the wooden box and looked at the hands on his watch. By then it was ten minutes after one o’clock in the morning. He would wait for 45 minutes.

And so Stan sat on the ground with back resting against the box, just listening to the surrounding forest; crickets chirping and animals rustling around. It was very peaceful. In these moments, Stan let his mind wander off to the night when he would finally have a hole dug in the ground and a coffin lowered in with Donna sealed shut beneath the Earth. Stan was so fortunate to have Donna to play this game with. She knew how to play dead so well, and could continue looking beautiful. Finally Stan's fantasy of unearthing a beautiful woman and brining her back from the dead could be experienced. Stan had been waiting for a moment like this for most of his life. Consider that when Lisa had been killed in that car crash; Stan's morbid fantasies had been so overwhelming, that he actually hopped the fence over to the cemetery late at night, to defile her grave in a moment of fantasy love making.

This time, however, with Donna; it would be real. Again, Donna would play dead so very well. And Stan would physically make love to her as she lay in the coffin which had been unearthed. And in that moment, she would come back to life and belong to Stan one hundred percent, forever.

Stan waited for about twenty minutes while sitting against the wooden box. From what he could determine, there didn't appear to be any problems for Donna. But then Stan actually began to worry. He worried that maybe Donna might have begun suffocating while falling asleep in the dark, wooden box. She wouldn't have been aware of what was happening and might have died in that box. Stan was so close to actually lifting the lid off that box to see if she was okay. But then something—maybe Donna’s spirit mother—urged Stan to wait; wait out the entire 45 minutes before lifting the lid. Part of the conditioning, after all, was for Stan to learn how to relax and not worry; just let everything happen.

Fortunately, Stan brought with him a pack of cigarettes. He walked over to the running stream that once had Donna's blood flowing through it. He lit up a cigarette, took a few drags and relaxed. He stood there for some twenty minutes, and actually smoked a couple of cigarettes. When smoked down to the filters, Stan merely flicked them into the fresh running water stream. (Nice!)

After smoking his last cigarette, Stan returned to the wooden box where he just stared at it in deep contemplation. It was then that his morbid fetishes began to get control of his worries. What if Donna really were dead?  How would he react? Of course he would be devastated, but then he could live out the ultimate thrill of making love to real, live (actually dead) female corpse. He might even pass out from excitement overload; perhaps die of heart attack to join his precious Donna in the afterlife. It would be the ultimate ending to a happy love story.

Stan could no longer control himself. With one minute remaining he figured Donna had been laying in that box long enough. Donna wouldn't have known the difference anyway if it were a minute early—that is if she were still alive. He lifted the lid and looked inside. Donna lay still and lifeless with eyes closed and hands resting on her chest. She hadn't moved from that position since Stan saw her last. Could she... could she possibly have been dead?

With hands trembling and a mixture of emotions that ranged from horror, sadness, intrigue and sexual excitation; Stan felt Donna's cheek.

It was warm to the touch.

But what if the warmth merely remained from the several moments after her heart stopped beating? Still unsure, Stan place his finger under Donna's nose.

Air moved in and out. Donna was still alive!

Morbid fetishes along with the thrill of fantasy that nearly came true overcame Stan. He nearly leapt into the wooden box on top of his beloved Donna.

Donna screamed in the darkness and then giggled as Stan kissed her.

"This probably has to be the most exciting thing I've ever done!" declared Stan while momentarily pulling away from the kiss.

And Donna had to admit, it was equally exciting for her. It was like something straight of out Sleeping Beauty; she lay in eternal sleep before her handsome prince kissed her back to life.

***

This just so happened to be the weekend when Fredrick would finally come home from the war. And as you surely know by now, Fredrick was being honorably discharged because of his crippling injury. As mentioned before, his right leg had been blown off by a land mine.

So on a Saturday morning in August he was escorted through town by a parade of police cars that trailed behind an ambulance. There were flags hung throughout town as well as banners that welcomed Fredrick home. Keep in mind that this was the early to mid 60s. Hippies and Vietnam War protesters weren't so prevalent at that time just yet, so Fredrick did get somewhat of a proper small town homecoming.

Donna and her parents waited in the front of Fredrick's house with the rest of Fredrick’s family as they watched the small parade lead into the drive. And like mentioned before, it was an ambulance that first pulled into his driveway with Fredrick in the back.

Now just as Stan's father had predicted, Donna's old feelings for Fredrick would quickly resurface. Upon initially seeing him being wheeled out of the ambulance, her heart was back to where it was a year ago before Fredrick left for the war. She was so happy to see him. She started to cry out of joy from finally being reunited as well as sadness due to his condition.

It was Fredrick's mother and father, of course, who greeted their son first. "Welcome home son." said Father with tears in his eyes and hugging him. The remainder of his family rushed in to greet and welcome him as well. Then, finally, Donna had her turn. She was being proper and observed the fact that family had to come first. This is why she saw to it that she was last. After all, for the time being, Donna was simply a girlfriend.

Donna approached the wheelchair; hugged and kissed him. "I'm so glad that you returned."

Immediately, Mother and Father wheeled Fredrick into the house as the paramedics proceeded to unload medical supplies from the ambulance. Fredrick was brought into the family room where Donna would finally have a better chance to talk with him some more.

But not much longer after Fredrick had been wheeled into the house, the paramedics entered with the medical supplies—IV bags, boxes of medicines, bandages, and the likes. There was plenty of pain medication along with morphine to be administered intravenously. This was one of the purposes of the IV. Fredrick was in so much pain, that he required regular doses of morphine. And he was on plenty of it at the moment.

"So did you miss me?" asked Fredrick to Donna as the paramedic set up the nearby IV.

“Of course I missed you. I missed you very much.”

But then Fredrick was suddenly not the kind, young gentleman that Donna remembered. He nearly snapped, "Well then why the hell did you stop writing me?"

Donna was taken aback. Deep down inside, she knew what he meant. The letters from her had gotten far and few between in frequency in recent months. But she never thought that Stan would go so far as to point this out when reuniting. It was, of course, the conflict of interest that Donna had with Stan. And this very moment was suddenly a very confusing moment for her. Donna was in love with Stan, but now Fredrick had come home and her old feelings for him had resurfaced. Those feelings soon included guilt for being unfaithful to Fredrick while he was away at war.

Now Fredrick was beginning to ask questions. He wanted an explanation; wanted to know if there was some correlation between the rumor of Donna and Stan and her sudden reduction in frequency of letters. “Go ahead!” nearly demanded Fredrick. "How come you stopped writing?"

"There-there, Fredrick." reassured Fredrick's father while patting him on the back. “The doctor said that the pain medications and morphine could cause your mind to act funny sometimes—maybe hallucinate. Donna is here with you, now. Doesn't that account for something?”

But Fredrick said nothing; he just looked at Donna with an expression of bitterness and disgust. It was then that Donna suddenly noticed that Fredrick looked drastically different from the last time she saw him. Fredrick was a young man—soldier—who was going off to war some months ago. Now he had returned with a long beard; his hair was somewhat longer and dirty-appearing. His face was worn. And of course he was missing a leg—confined to a wheelchair. And now he was very angry—almost resentful—towards Donna for not writing him as much while away at war; maybe almost hinting that she no longer loved him.

"Ugh! This pain!" suddenly complained Fredrick to his father. "Could you give me some more medication; some more morphine?"

One of the nearby paramedics reminded Fredrick's father, "There is a maximum amount of morphine that he should receive. Limited amounts are to be given to him. You are expected to abide by the recommended doses." Then the paramedic looked at Fredrick, "You really need to wait, Sir."

Fredrick actually used profanity at that moment in front of his parents, family, Donna and her parents while challenging the paramedic. "How do you know how I feel right now? Do you have any idea how much pain I am in? My leg was blown-off by a land mine!"

"I understand that, Sir." tried to reason the paramedic. "But there is only so much of this you can use for duration of time. This morphine is addicting, and you need to be careful." With that, the paramedic walked out of the house.

Father nodded his head in agreement. "I think the paramedic is right.”

Fredrick shook his head in disbelief. "I had no idea that it would get to this. Look at the state I'm in. I'm in terrible pain; not to mention I can't even mobilize myself. What kind of life do I have to look forward to?"

Mother patted her son on his back, "Try not to worry. Things will get better. We have a rehabilitator scheduled to come to the house throughout the week so that you can finally start moving around. You'll probably be fitted with a prosthetic leg so that you can walk."

After some moments, Donna’s father informed, “Donna has been very worried about you. Ever since she heard you were injured, she was very concerned whether or not you would be okay—whether or not you would come home alive.”

Donna didn't appreciate the way Father had somewhat exaggerated her concern for Fredrick. She wasn’t that worried. But she understood that Father meant well. He meant it as a way to put Fredrick at ease, and reassure that Donna truly loved him.

Fredrick, however, didn't seem to care at the moment. He yelped out in pain. "Gosh! I wish I could have some more morphine!

"For the love of God!" exclaimed Father. "Just give him some more. Dump some more into that bag. Can't you see he's in pain?" While saying this, he opened a dosage of morphine and poured it into the IV bag.

Within minutes, Fredrick began to appear sleepy; soon to dose off.

"We should probably leave him alone for now." announced Donna's father. "Why don't we go; let him get his rest, and let his family properly re-unite. You'll have plenty of time later to be with Fredrick."

Donna nodded and agreed. "Okay…” Funny thing: While leaving the house, Donna began to question whether or not she still loved Fredrick. A life with him in such a condition would be so miserable.

***

And so late that Saturday night, Donna had another date with Stan. On this night, Stan had an even greater surprise in the forest than last time. Tonight, there large was a four-foot-deep hole dug in the ground with the coffin-like box sitting at the bottom. Stan announced as both he and Donna stood by the old tree that tonight would be the night that she would say farewell to the life she currently lived. Tonight would be the night that Donna would be buried underground, then to be unearthed and made reborn.

Donna had to admit; in the previous times of playing the game, she was becoming increasingly devoted to the point of looking forward to the real thing. But tonight, Donna had a bad feeling. There just wasn’t something right. She felt as if something would go terribly wrong.

"If you love me you would do this for me.” Insisted Stan. “I mean you would see how much I want this. Can't you do this one thing for me? It won't be as bad as you think."

No man is that important; but Donna was young. She felt that it was time to fully surrender to Stan, and complete the game as a symbolic act of being 100% his. Still hesitant, Donna stepped down into the hole containing the wooden box that was large enough to accommodate her lying down. She assumed the restful position and gazed up into the dark forest, and the shadowy face of her twisted lover.

"That's it; oh, you're beautiful lying there. Close your eyes and put your hands on your chest."

She did as he asked.

This time a collection of dried-up flowers were placed on her chest. In his morbid nature, Stan wished to make it seem like Donna had been dead for some time. Then he put cover was put on the box. Donna could hear the dirt thrown on top while Stan continued to take his fantasy to the extreme.

"And we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

Donna was so close in that moment to changing her mind. She might still have had a chance to push the lid off, stand up and announce, "Game over!” But she wanted to please Stan who was certainly most deserving of fulfilling this desire of his. She would let him fill the hole with dirt, place a headstone at her mock grave and then wait for him to dig her out to make love. Donna had played the dead game a couple of times. She knew she could be in that box for some time before running out of air.

Back above ground: Once the hole had been filled, Stan looked for a large stone to place at the head of the mock grave. He had considered purchasing a marble headstone, named and dated just for the occasion; but wasn't sure if it would have raised some red flags being that there were no funerals in town for a young woman named Donna.

Before digging up Donna, Stan reached for a cigarette in shirt pocket. So proud of this moment, he figured he’d savor every moment of his fantasy by smoking a cigarette over Donna’s grave; pretend to contemplate whether or not to follow through with the shameful act of unearthing a corpse. 

But what was this?

“Blast-it anyway!” Stan cried out while stomping his foot in annoyance. He forgot his cigarettes; probably left them in his car. But then Stan started thinking; why should he feel so stressed out? He had a corpse (a pretend one) buried under ground. This pretend corpse was Donna; and she had been trained in recent times to endure being sealed shut in the box for lengthy periods of time. Donna was well aware that it could be hours before running out of air so she was fine. Stan could now relax, and enjoy his fantasy. But first, he needed a cigarette. And to do this, Stan would leave the valley of Donna’s spirit mother; the place where Donna was now buried by the old tree.

Stan hiked all the way back to the parking area. A couple of times he started to feel guilty that Donna was left underground longer than promised. Could she have heard what was taking place above ground and known that Stan walked away? But Stan quickly fought off those feelings of guilt while reassuring himself that Donna would be fine. 

Stan opened the car door."Now where are those cigarettes?" If Stan didn’t have his cigarettes and matches in his shirt pocket, he would most surely keep them on the dashboard. But they weren't there! Maybe they fell out of the car while exiting with Donna. He looked around his car and walked along the parking lot. It was then that he finally remembered that he actually left his cigarettes and matches on the dresser at home.

Stan shrugged his shoulders and thought nothing of it while starting up the engine and backing out of the parking spot. The Texaco gas station where he worked in town was only 5 minutes from the Berry Bush Forest Preserve. He really deserved a cigarette!

Upon reaching the gas station, Stan encountered some acquaintances, two old schoolmates who were out for the evening. And they just so happened to be people who were friends with Fredrick. They apparently had the same idea that Stan had; get some late night cigarettes from the vending machine.

“So it looks like this is the only place in town for people to get cigarettes late at night.” cited Stan.

“It looks like you’re right about that.” agreed one of the old schoolmates. Then he asked, “So I don’t know if you heard the news, but Fredrick is back in town, now.”

“Yeah?” answered Stan.

“Oh, now, don’t try and pretend! You know all about it. You were with his girlfriend, Donna, all those months. Surely she told you that he was injured and home.”

Stan shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, sure, I’ll admit. I’ve been with Donna all these months. It’s no big secret. But I don’t know if you realize that Donna and Fredrick are old news—ancient history. She’s mine now.”

Both old classmates laughed. “How do you figure?”

“You can believe whatever you want.” calmly answered Stan. “I tell you she’s all mine. Get this: I dug a 4 foot hole, made a wooden box and lowered it in. Donna agreed to play a game of dig up the grave! She's in the box and buried. Once I get my cigarettes, I’m going back to dig her up. It’s one of the greatest acts of devotion and subservience. What do you say about that?”

“You’re crazy!” declared one of the old classmates. “You’ve always been crazy. And I don’t believe your story one bit. If I were you, I’d be worried right now—probably even leave town. Once Fredrick’s war buddies come around to visit, you’ll probably get beaten up really good.”

Stan shook his head in disbelief and walked back to his car. He lit up a cigarette and drove off.  Should he have worried about Fredrick’s war buddies coming to beat him up? Maybe he and Donna should start a new life together in a new city.

The road that leads to Berry Bush Forest Preserve is on an incline. Once reaching the top of the incline, the entrance to Berry Bush Forest Preserve can be seen. On this particular night, however, there was something new that would be waiting for him before reaching the entrance. You see, there was a flat stretch of road that cut through the forested region with a rapidly approaching trucker who had been traveling many hours and feeling the effects of exhaustion. The semi truck drifted in and out of the opposite lane several times until the trucker could no longer hold consciousness. But the truck remained traveling close to 60 MPH in the opposite lane—the very lane that Stan was traveling uphill on.  Since Stan was traveling up an incline, he couldn't see the danger that was rapidly approaching.

There was a split second of impact when Stan had one, final thought of the importance of reaching Donna. Some part of him realized what happened, despite how quickly the tragedy came. He knew for certain that he would never reach his precious love that lay terrified and confined to a mock grave.

***

News spread of the deadly accident involving Stan and the sleepy trucker. And paired up with the news was the mysterious disappearance of Donna, who hadn't been seen for over two days. The acquaintances of Stan, who saw him at the Texaco gas station on his final night alive, realized that he may very well have buried Donna alive; and hadn't reached her before the fatal accident. This realization was conveyed to law enforcement officials who launched a large-scale search for a possible mock grave in the woods.

But Donna was never found!

The End!