A Fiery Vision

Faced with the loss of her only son Maggie will do anything to see him again

Outside her balcony window, delicate white puffs twirled through the air casting a frosty blanket across the landscape below.  It was the first snowfall of the year.  Normally, Maggie would have squirmed in delight as the world transformed.  Winters majestic aerial ballet might even have stolen her breath away.  But today, nothing could ignite passion in her heart.

Her eyes burned as she shunned Jack Frost's masterpiece, favoring the outfit on the bed.  The little black dress, adorned with vintage lace and contemporary beige stitching, ushered nostalgia.  She both loved and hated that dress, because it was something her mother would've worn.

Her mother had been amazing.  Strong and proud, she was more than capable of weathering any storm.  But, Alma always down played her frailties, never admitted she was only human.  She spent a cold gray morning, three years ago, huddled under the covers.  Her "human moment" spun her day out of control.

Longing to crawl back under the covers, she'd darted into a crosswalk with her vision obscured by an armful of groceries.  She never even had time to scream.  The drunk driver plowing through a red light murdered her in cold blood.

The shock had been devastating.  Maggie couldn't understand.  Why would God, rip the only parent she'd ever known from her loving embrace?  Her poisonous grief grew into fury aimed at God.  And, it festered like rot within her soul.

Isaac was the only one who could reach her.  After months of watching her endure unbearable torment, his love tore through grief's barricades resurrecting Maggie from the darkness, before hates insidiousness could devour the last of her tenuous faith. 

Right now, she'd give anything to be secure in her mother's arms.  Death's emptiness clung to her essence, black and sticky like tar.  Its penetration was so unsettling.  She feared that death would irreparably shatter her.  Feasting upon her fear, grief sneered, "This time, Isaac won't be able to save you."

Sweeping her legs under the vanity, Maggie longed to fold in upon herself and disappear.  The vanity's unforgiving lights, incapable of deceit, ruthlessly divulged her massive deficit in sleep; a mourning gift from hysteria.  The mirror reflected her various stages of decay.  Realities confession that makeup could never obscure the scars death carved upon the flesh of the living.  If she'd ever been a beautiful woman, there was no trace of that woman left today.

Lightly, she traced her fingers along a delicate gold chain that hung from the vanity.  Gingerly freeing the necklace from its perch she fondled the familiar charm.  A gold baby's foot emblazoned with The Lord's Prayer, a gift from Isaac.

As long as she'd known Isaac, he'd possessed indomitable faith.  She truly admired his devotion; but it wasn't a belief they shared.  She was open-minded, but personally, Maggie derived the most comfort from tangible things, not faith; and certainly not an intangible God.  Especially since her mother had died.  But Isaac, he was always sure.  When Isaac gave her the necklace she thought he was crazy; that his faith had finally earned him a bed at the nut house. 

They'd been trying to conceive for years.  Pleading their case to countless doctors only to hear, "Children would be impossible."  They endured the shame because their desire to have a child of their own was so great.  But, the weight of that shame grew heavy and Maggie pleaded with Isaac, "No more."  In love with his wife, he agreed.  But he never lost faith. 

Weeks later, she was still wearing the necklace.  It was habit more than anything.  She was absently touching it when the edges of her vision began to blur, her legs collapsed, and the world went dark.  Isaac held her hand in the Emergency Room quietly hoping, and praying.  When the doctor walked in he cut right to the jest, "Looks like congratulations are in order!"

That was the moment Maggie first believed...Isaac wasn't crazy after all.

Ben was born healthy, strong.  When she held her miracle baby, divine light poured through her body.  And, a vision perfected his imperfections making her believe; she'd been destined to be his mother.  From his first breath it was clear, Ben was the reason their hearts beat.

Maggie should have known happiness like that never lasts. 

A monstrous fever tormented Ben, discomfort making him inconsolable.  Maggie and Isaac rushed him to the hospital, terrified.  As they waited for help, heat viciously licked Ben's skin making him seem so fragile; he could've been a china doll.  Every pitiful cry blasting from his tiny lungs blistered their hearts.  They were helpless. 

They were forced to watch as their fifteen day old baby suffered.  It made them sick.  The longer the fever held Ben hostage, the more deadly spinal fluid pooled around his brain.  Maggie freaked out when the doctors claimed nothing more could be done.  They attempted to console her by saying, "Ben never stood a chance."  It took less than 48 hours for the fever's unforgiving invasion to silence Ben's cries forever.

 

Isaac pressed against the doorway, softly knocking.  His presence shook Maggie from her mawkishness.  Wearing his best suit he still looked haggard.  Though, that didn't stop him from raking her with concern. 

"Ready to go?"  Like good coffee, his tone was deliciously rich.  

"Almost."       

Isaac grabbed the necklace in her hand.  "Allow me."

The very sight of the stupid necklace repulsed her, now that Ben was gone.  She didn't have the nerve to tell Isaac that though.  A good wife, she repressed a cringe pulling her hair to the side.  His warm fingers tickled her neck as he worked the clasp, the sensation waking a memory:  Ben's tiny hand brushing her face, as she cradled him in her arms. 

Isaac may have been ignorant of his crime, but he was responsible for casting her into Hell.

 

#

At Ben's funeral, Maggie was overcome by an uncontrollable urge to flee.  Grief had deluded her into believing if she wasn't there to witness Ben being laid to rest, than it was possible that this was all just a horrific nightmare; a horrific nightmare, from which she could still wake up.

Fellow mourners fondled her hands and arms, murmuring about Ben, and a better place.  Their sentiments burned like acid.  Didn't they know?  The safest place for her baby was in her arms!  Yet sadly, her arms hung empty.  While her baby slept nearby in a miniature white casket lined with red roses.

Despite the acid corroding her limited grace, Maggie held her composure.  Until, the eulogy began to prattle about Ben's new life in Heaven.  The minister's words were intended to provide solace to the loved ones Ben had left behind.  But for Maggie, those words were the thread that unraveled everything. 

A wailing sob tore free from her mouth.  The sound was so mournful it made ghosts cry.  But her anguish didn't stop there.  More noise deviously twisted within her creating hideous and uncontrollable laughter.  The deformed laughter lived a short life, caught in her throat; swallowed, by unbridled shrieks of rage, married to torrents of searing tears.  Her egregious melt down sparked fascination, everyone starred; their delighted sin egging her on.

Maggie jumped out of her seat.  Isaac fell while reaching for her hand and begging her to sit back down.  Violently jerking away, she ripped The Lord's Prayer necklace from her body.  She had to remove the vile relic from her skin before it burned a hole to her soul! 

Possessed by hate, she howled at the minister, "What did my son ever do to God?  Ben was the only thing I've ever asked for.  I cherished him, above my own soul.  And, God ripped him from my arms! 

According to you, now that Ben's tucked into God's Kingdom I'm supposed to rejoice.  Please, tell me how that's fair!  My arms are empty!  There is no such thing as Heaven.  There's only Hell; I should know I live in it!

My son is in that box, Padre.  So, stop talking about Ben romping around Heaven with God!  God is a heartless savage!  He doesn't love anyone."

Grief seeped from her pours with noxious intent.  She saw Isaac's face contorted in anguish, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.  Throwing her necklace at the minister's feet, she bitterly admonished her last shred of faith, becoming a fiery vision of hell's sorrow as she stormed out of the church.

 

#

Tired, Maggie collapsed on the front steps.  Snowflakes padded the ground, as a bitter wind, chilly enough to tint her lips blue, caressed her face.  Winter pressed its frigid hands upon her with obvious delight.  But, she figured freezing on the stoop was a far better fate than the devastating suffocation awaiting her in the church. 

Dropping her face into her hands she tried to ease the rage boiling beneath her skin.  She hadn't meant to lash out.  But the audacity!  Suggesting faith had the power to fix anything.  Faith could never mend her broken heart.  The Ferry Man wouldn't accept faith as currency to bring Ben's soul back. And faith, certainly, wouldn't assuage her anger towards God.

The minister's footsteps sought Maggie's attention before his words.  "May I sit with you?"

She just wanted to be left alone.  Though, to be dismissive after the scene she'd just caused...With a great sigh of defeat, she offered one long nod.

"Thank you.  By the way, Isaac wanted you to have this."  From behind his back he handed her Isaac's jacket.  "He thought you might be cold.  I rather like Isaac.  He's a very good man."  The minister paused, gauging whether she would respond.

"Obviously, you don't want to talk.  If you don't mind though, I do."

Maggie starred at him through guarded eyes, chewing absently on her cheek.  She devoutly wished she could be somewhere else.

"I try not to be a pretentious man, so I won't pretend to understand what you're going through.  And, I'll never ask you to apologize for what you said in there.  Or, for how you said it.  However, I don't have to pretend in order to see that you're heart broken.

But let me ask you, do you know why Isaac encourages you to believe in something beyond this pallid existence?"  The minister paused, exhaling frosted air over the snow.  "It's because he wants you to experience hope, Maggie.

An old Padre once told me, 'When your light has been extinguished, impregnating you with darkness, sometimes the only thing that keeps you going until your flame can be rekindled, is hope.'"

The only thing burning in Maggie was a depression blacker than the blackest night.  Fear pinched her spine as she whispered, "What if the light doesn't come back?"

"Ah.  That's the beauty.  Light can always come back.  The question becomes: Can you find it?  Maggie, the point is, hope makes the light easier to find."

The minister stood fishing through his pocket.  "You may be angry with God, Maggie.  But some day you will want this back."  Cupping her hand, he gently dropped her necklace onto her palm before walking away.

Clutching the necklace to her chest she closed her eyes with a heavy sigh.  Reaching beyond the talons of grief, she desperately clawed for hope; anything to combat deaths perverted darkness.  The task frustrated her as the darkness repeatedly sought to disorient her with its sprawling emptiness.

Interrupting her quest for redemption the sun's tender affection suddenly burst through the clouds.  Golden rays flitted across the snow casting shimmers of glitter, making white mounds look like perfectly frosted sugar cookies.  The sun dared to imply, if she could move on, a beautiful future would be waiting.  Her rage exploded.  Maggie wanted to extinguish the sun as punishment for its lie!  Forgetting Ben would be tantamount to ripping her heart from her soul. 

Grief's evil laughter flushed her cheeks with shame as her anger bore a theory of deadly consequences.  She surmised that where-ever Ben was her mother had to be there protecting him.  But to be thankful Ben was safe, did that mean she was glad her mother had been murdered?

One single tear fell from her burning eyes, landing directly on the necklace in her hand.  She should have considered the symbolism.  But in that moment she didn't care.  Worse, she wasn't willing to give any credence to faith. 

Weighing her options she clasped the chain around her neck.  It was a heavy reminder of the life God stole from her.  As Maggie made her decision the clouds collided banishing the sun.  The wind regained its frosty chill coating Maggie in delectable shivers.  And once again, snow drifted down in thick, frantic twirls, covering the world in frosty elegance. 

Looking across winter's playground her resolve reigned supreme.  Maggie rose brushing off her legs, an eerie calm taking residence within.  Grief had been right.  Isaac couldn't save her.  This time, she couldn't be saved. 

Confident strides carried Maggie into the snow, where she lay down as if to make a snow angel.  Watching the snow peacefully falling around her she welcomed the cold penetrating burn throughout her bones.  Before death completed its ritual, light enshrouded her, numbing the pain.  As she dreamt of Ben the falling snow buried her under a blanket of white.

 

#

Something wasn't right.  She shouldn't be here.  The light was incredibly bright, almost blinding.  Familiar shadows flirted everywhere. 

She could hear them!  If she wasn't supposed to be here, she didn't care.  She had to hold Ben!  They were just ahead, barely a few more steps.  He was so close!

If she could just get through the veil, Ben would be in her arms!  And this darkness, that'd dogged her since he died, would vanish.  But, something was horribly wrong.  She wasn't supposed to be here.  The air stirred.  Oh God, she could smell him!  Devoid of reality, she reached for the veil. 

Hairs on the back of her neck rose as her fingers closed around the veil.  The pungent stench of death pooled around her ankles like icy fog, demanding her attention; terrified, she froze. 

Deaths fumes burned her nostrils.  While she was distracted an incredibly truculent force tackled her, ripping her away from the veil, and slammed her into unconsciousness.

 

#

 

Maggie heard the steady rhythm of a heart monitor.  It acted as metronome for the insipid darkness serenading her soul.  Opening heavy eyes, a crucifix glowered down at her from the wall.  The homage, to the Divine Savior - who had just denied her access to her son - was blasphemous!  She'd been so close! 

Isaac was crouched in the corner sipping stale coffee.  When she saw her husband, the all-mighty believer in faith, unyielding darkness eviscerated what remained of her heart.  Harnessing the intensity of ten-thousand blazing suns, she hurled at him the only word that would escape her trembling lips, "Why?!"

Author's Note

This was written in Scrivener - Underline text is the equivellant of Italics.

Any reviews are welcome!

More of the story to come.

Reviews

[Raven Cedrone]

Kristin, you are a fabulous story-teller. I was drawn in from the first sentence and couldn't stop reading until I reached the end of the chapter, even then it was hard to stop.
Your descriptions of scenery and your portrayal of your characters emotions were so vivid and real to me as the reader. I felt as if I were watching the whole scene unfold in real life.
You have such a sad story unfolding here, but I am anxious to read more and find out if Maggie can find hope in this life amongst the tragedy that has surrounded her.
I also agree with the review below about the underlined sections. I don't think you need them because you writing clearly portrays everything going on in your story. Well done so far and as soon as I can I will be reading more!

100/100 from me. No glaring mistakes that I could spot and your story was gripping!

~Raven

[Claire Twinn]

I like your descriptions and the way you portray the aspects of your character fully. There's no need for the italics/underlined parts - have confidence that your writing speaks for itself! I hope this sad woman finds some hope in the next part.

[Kristin Lee]

Thank you for reading and for the feedback. The use of empasis (italics) was definitely something I struggled with in this first segment. I felt the story was strong, but those parts were words I really wanted to drive home. And your assessment is correct, I wasn't quit confident that readers would see the words on the page the way I inteded them to...

That's the curse of knowledge some times...we read words even if they are incomplete or rearranged. So often times our intended meaning is lost in translation unless we write with complete and clear intent or find a way to force the reader to SEE our intent. Sadly, now and days I find most people are like my husband, they'd rather wait to see the movie. Partly, I had him in mind as I sculpted the emotion in this first chapter. How would he read it? How could I make him, the average reader, feel her pain?

You've made me wonder if I put it infront of him without the italics if he would get it, lol...

I already know avid readers like you and I would. Such an interesting experiment. Thanks for the feedback! I really appreaciate it.