Being an apparition is a shaky thing for this newcomer--suspended in a kind of divine non-event. I can not find my voice and sway somewhat as though uncertain of my balance. Maybe I can be heard, and perhaps I am visible. I feel nothing, am aware of everything, except one moment--the moment of my death.
In my lifetime, I entertained evil only once yet was harshly taken away from Julia, my beautiful wife.
The last time I saw her was at the lake with my neighbor. Julia arrived first, telling me of a surprise they had prepared, then she left.
My neighbor was a whittler, and oftentimes, I noticed him whittling the most ingenious designs. So when I saw him on the path, I anticipated with delight the small carving he was just finishing; perhaps a model of our boat. Tomorrow would be Julia’s and my anniversary.
I glanced at his face. His teeth were clenched and there was something special about his eye telling me of his purpose. Without any warning, he was on me. I felt nothing. A lightning-flash pierced my spine and at once, I heard the sweet rhythm of a host of motorboats and the gentle lapping of water. Lights were everywhere, but soon after that, an abrupt change to this vague existence.
I can no longer smell the freshness of the pine forest, neither can I splash the water at the lake. However, I can be over the boat watching them.
The strokes of his love pierce her tight embrace as mine had, only yesterday.
"Happy anniversary, Julia!" I screamed, knowing that the trap was already set.
Our boat was old and built for rough seas, made of wood with a bilge that dropped well below the waterline. Its tightly sealed hatches kept the teeming odor of gasoline contained below decks.
Above decks, their love was finally sealed; their plan consummated. A drive around the lake was not unusual for them, and it would celebrate the occasion.
He started the engine.
I have never seen such an explosion.
Their spirits soared from the fireball, and for a moment, their eyes caught mine. Then they screamed a scream that settled on me, before falling into the depths.
Copyright © 2003, Larry Wegeman, all rights reserved
October, 2003
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