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Order this writing in the book Duality with writing by Eric Bonholtzer & Janet Kuypers |
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Mark knew he should have been enjoying himself. The bright lights, the scents and sounds of the New Orleans festivities greeting him at every turn. All the candy a fourteen-year-old could stomach, and the overwhelming air of enjoyment filling the night. But, despite it all, Mark Underhill couldn’t shake a feeling of impending disaster. He had tried to tell himself it was just the masks, the All Hollow’s Eve costumes and the way they twisted and leered, but he wasn’t convinced. Deep in the recesses of his mind, as much as he tried to deny it, Mark knew what he has seen. It had been the thing, the physical manifestation of the thing, he was sure of it. As much as he would have liked to believe it was just some incredible coincidence, some reveler’s outfit resembling the witch’s artifact or some trick of his imagination, Mark knew better. What he had seen had looked too much like the voodoo doll for it to be anything but the wicked embodiment of arcane magic.
All Hollow’s Eve had never been Mark’s favorite holiday, but tonight had turned from a mediocre time on the town to a complete and utter nightmare. But, as much as Mark desperately wanted to go home, desperately wanted to call it a night, he just couldn’t. Doing that would prove that his mother was right, that he was still too young to be out with no curfew. Mark shuddered despite the warmth of the evening, knowing with the prideful certainty of an adolescent that he had to see things through to the end, no matter what.
A bump at his shoulder made him jump, and Mark turned in a flash, certain that the thing had found him. His eyes wide with fear, Mark found himself greeted only by the sight of an inebriated elf walking with an unsteady gait, who kept himself from falling only by the aid of his prop long bow. Mark tried to laugh it off, chiding himself for being so on edge. He was supposed to be enjoying himself. It was a holiday. But Mark assumed that anyone who’d seen what he had seen would feel the same way.
The evening had started off on such a good note. A sweet sugar rush from too much candy filling him, and a beautiful young woman in a cat outfit giving him a smile. The feline-attired femme had looked at least a few years older than Mark, but it was obvious from the seductive cat calls she made that she was interested. Mark had approached her with a bolster in his step, feeling big and wanting to impress, and that was when the night had taken its first wrong turn. Crossing the cobblestone of the French Quarter, Mark plowed headlong into a very authentically-attired witch, the woman’s ancient appearance seemingly not attributed to make-up, her gnarled cane looking as if it came from another world.
Normally such a polite young man, it shocked even Mark when he heard the words coming out of his mouth, his normally polite ‘excuse me’ became a rude, ‘out of my way lady’. He had wanted to show that he was tough, that he was cool. The elderly witch had leered at Mark, appearing as if she’d just been struck physically. Politely, almost regally, in a manner from a forgotten time, the woman admonished Mark to mind his manners, fixing him with a cataract stare. At the time Mark had laughed, uttering a dismissive, “Whatever,” as he turned to look for the feline-costumed girl of his dreams. That was when things had gotten weird, the sorceress stranger saying nothing more as she reached out and pressed a tiny object into Mark’s hand. With that, she seemed to disappear into the night, a faint smile cresting her lips, a knowing smile.
For a second, Mark just watched her go, his hands clasping the object, completely baffled by the strange turn of events. Pushing the bizarre encounter from his mind, Mark had tried to once again find the young girl in cat attire only to realize that she, too, was gone.
Uttering a curse, Mark had set his sights to the prospect of other girls and more candy, only remembering, almost as an afterthought, the object the witch had imparted upon him. He glanced down with frustration, but when he saw what he held in his hand, an instant shudder of revulsion and fear surged through his body. It appeared transparent, translucent to the point of insubstantiality, and Mark knew what he was seeing. Living in New Orleans his whole life, Mark had encountered voodoo dolls before, but never one like this. There was a texture to the doll, but to the naked eye it appeared as if there was nothing in his hand whatsoever. It was only when the light caught it at certain angles that there even appeared to be anything there at all, a shimmer the only telltale sign of its existence. Turning his hand to drop the object, Mark felt an icy stab of pain as he realized the doll wouldn’t come free, the tiny object seeming to cling to his flesh, almost becoming a part of it. Mark shook harder and finally the witch’s doll fell to the ground. Now in the grip of panic, Mark didn’t even look back as he set off for another section of town, a sudden and overwhelming need to be as far away from this strange encounter and all it portended filling him as he headed off into the night.
An hour later, with a bellyful of candy nestled safely in his stomach, Mark was starting to feel okay again, thoughts of the strange woman and the doll having faded to an almost distant memory. He was leaning against a store window, watching the humorous belligerents who’d had more than a few too many and taking in the flavor of the city, when he had first seen the thing. At first, it had seemed to be just a shimmer in the crowd, a strange trick of lighting, but as the phenomena of illumination continued, Mark realized that there was definitely something happening in the street. And with a sinking feeling, Mark realized just how much the strange shimmering sensation reminded him of the voodoo doll, only on a much larger scale. It seemed as if the texture and the fabric of the street was taking human form, the strange translucent thing heading in Mark’s direction. Mark dropped his candy, thinking of the strange witch and her gift, and the horrible similarities. This can’t be happening, he thought; but despite his mind’s attempt to rationalize, the apparition was definitely coming closer, becoming more and more tangible with each step. The very air itself seemed to congeal into substance, a creature, which was fast approaching.
Run, his mind told him, and Mark listened, taking off down the street, ducking and dodging through crowds in a city he knew like the back of his hand. When the throngs of people grew too thick, alleyways presented new avenues of escape, as Mark rode the waves of people through street after street trying to elude whatever it was that was following close behind. Every so often, Mark would think that he had lost his pursuer, only to see a translucent glint or glimmer under a street light. Mark knew he couldn’t go home. Not only would that prove that his mother was right, but it also would lead the thing right to his door step. No, Mark knew that option was out, and so was calling the police. As much as he desperately wanted to, especially as fatigue began to wear him down and the ache in his legs became more than just a minor pain, Mark knew he couldn’t really tell anyone because, quite frankly, who would believe him? Mark wasn’t even sure if he believed himself. People would think he was drunk, or worse, insane.
After taking a few sharp corners, Mark leaned up against a wall, bathing himself in shadows as he momentarily tried to calm his ragged breathing. There had been no sign of a shimmer for several minutes. Mark, however, didn’t want to press his luck, and as soon as he got his wind, lost himself in a crowd, the whole time trying to stay relaxed. A few minutes passed, a time of constant searching, in which Mark saw nothing. Not a single glimmer or shimmer to disturb the night. Minutes ticked by and the young man was almost beginning to convince himself that he had imagined the whole thing, jumping at things that weren’t there. That was when Mark saw it again, faint, still far off, but approaching nonetheless, and with a speed that was frightening. It’s so quick, Mark thought, but he didn’t have time to contemplate it at all as he once again took off running.
Glancing behind as he fled, Mark wondered if the thing would even be able to grab him if it got close enough, the apparition seeming to be made of nothing more than air and light. But thoughts of the substantiality of the voodoo doll made Mark sure that if the thing got its hands on him, he was done for.
People seemed to fill the night in a swirl of colors and masks, and Mark felt stifled by them as he made his way through the crowd. A green devil laughed groggily, groping at an overly-tall mermaid leaning against a wall. A ruddy dwarf lay prostrate in the street forcing people to go around, over, or through him. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum locked arm-and-arm heaved dryly onto the concrete. It was a mass of confusion and Mark capitalized upon it. Picking up the pace, he wended his way through the crowd. His head throbbed as exhaustion tugged at him, everything seeming to blend into a kaleidoscopic montage as he went. A man on stilts, blended with a man covered coated head to toe with paint, in Mark’s mind. A black vampire coalesced with a soccer player, and the whole world seemed to be swirling in a blender.
To Mark, it appeared as if he were watching the whole thing from afar, his body not really his, as fatigue tore away at him. The tired adolescent could hear someone screaming for ‘candy’, a person or food, Mark didn’t know. The lighting of the streets grew dimmer, and as Mark trudged on and he knew that he was slowly wending his way off the main thoroughfare, though there seemed to be little he could do about it, backward glances telling him that the thing was close, very close. Mark ducked down one alley and then another, and veered into another still.
A half-conscious bum called out to him, “What’s a matter boy, seen a ghost?” Mark could hear the laughter trailing after him as he continued on. He kept running, legs positively burning as he went. “Hey kid watch it!” He heard a terse voice saying, and it took Mark a minute to realize that he’d run headlong into someone.
Mark didn’t hesitate, “Listen, you’ve gotta help me. There’s this thing after me. Some crazy lady sent it, and oh, I’m so sorry...I just want her to know I’m sorry...I didn’t mean it...I was trying to be a big man.. and I...” His words ran together, coming out between winded breaths, tears welling in his eyes.
Mark was silenced by the same voice as before, the tone gruff and implacable. “Look kid, everything’s gonna be just fine okay, now just listen to me, all right?” Mark smiled, looking up at the man. There was confidence in the stranger’s posture and Mark knew that this was someone who could help, someone who could stand up to the thing.
Mark tried to calm himself. He had reached the end of the line and he was exhausted. He almost couldn’t believe it. Things were going to be okay, the man had said. Mark was going to get help. The stranger ran his tongue over a gilded incisor as he spoke, tugging at the twill of his coat. “Look, kid, everything’s going to be okay now.” The man reached out a meaty palm and tenderly ran his hands over the young man’s shoulders. Mark looked behind him and saw that horrible, familiar shimmer at the end of the alleyway. He knew, the thing had found him.
Time seemed to blur, happening with an incredible speed. In one second, Mark was whipped around and slammed up against the wall by his would-be hero. He felt the man’s body pressed up against his, the smell of sweat and day-old gin assailing his senses. “Everything’s gonna be just fine, kid. Just do exactly what I tell you.” Mark was being smothered, constricted by this man’s presence.
Mark was incredibly confused by the change in the man’s demeanor but, still felt safe. This was a man in control. “Now listen, you do exactly what I say. We’ve gotta make this quick.” Relief surged through Mark, knowing that this was a man of action. “If you’re lucky kid, and you do everything I tell you, maybe I won’t kill you when its over. Give me all your money, right now...” It was only after a moment that Mark realized the full import of the words.
“I’m not messing around kid, now, I said..” A faint shimmer grew around the horrible betrayer’s neck, and Mark heard his next words choked off with a faint gurgle. Suddenly, Mark was free of the pressure but still found himself trapped between the robber and the shimmering thing. Mark tried to move but found every escape attempt blocked by the struggle, the man who had tried to rob him finally ceasing his frantic writing and falling to the ground in a heap. Mark shivered, feeling as if he had just hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire, backing up against the wall as far as he could, alone with the thing. And now Mark knew what it was capable of.
Mark closed his eyes, not wanting to see what would come next, wishing desperately that he could just see his mom and be held by her one more time. Mark knew if he were able to someway escape that his life would change. He wouldn’t argue so much, he would help every old woman across the street, anything, if he could just see another day. Mark’s imminent death brought a moment of clarity as he realized that all the possibilities for good, all the possibilities to help wouldn’t be always be there. It was something most people didn’t think about, especially when they were young and had their whole lives ahead of them, but Mark thought about it. And, as time progressed and he didn’t feel pressure around his neck, Mark Underhill hesitantly opened his eyes.
Mark found himself alone, wonderfully, wonderfully alone in the alleyway, the sounds of merriment far in the distance sounding nothing so much like cries of joy and promises of second chances and possibilities. Perhaps, Mark wondered, that was what tonight had really been all about, what the woman had been trying to instill in him, the knowledge that he always had a choice and sometimes a single act could affect so many other things. Honestly, Mark didn’t know, but he did know that he owed an apology to his mother and it was one he would be happy to deliver. With a broad smile on his face that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, Mark started home.
