Moribund Tales (2 page)

Chaperone

I
was blind when I woke. The tips of my fingers explored the surrounding ground. It was humid. The smooth grass tickled my palms. There was a peculiar aroma in the air; a fusion of composting leaves and fresh rain. The moist earth beneath my bones indicated that I was in a garden, park or a forest, although I heard no other voices.

I tried to stand, but my head collided with a solid surface. Cursing, I raised my sightless eyes towards the heavens and touched the protruding obstacle. It was a tree.

My mind possessed no recollection of how I had arrived here. Crawling on my hands and knees, I examined the nearby area, searching vigorously for possible clues. Perhaps there was an empty whiskey bottle which would explain my amnesia. Perhaps I got drunk and passed out?

I stood up from the terra firma and massaged my aching scalp. I inhaled deeply, the jagged oxygen slicing through my lungs like a knife through butter.

My surroundings were deprived of life, except for me and the tree. Perhaps even the tree was dead? My eyes could not tell. There was no other sound. No birds, traffic or rustling leaves. I was alone, it seemed.

My heart sank when I became aware of my vulnerable state. What was I going to do? How would I get home? How did I end up here in the first place? All these questions swam through my mind like shoaling fishes.

I stumbled upon a broken branch. Lifting it up, I tested its durability and length against the tree. This would serve as my cane. Armed with my new discovery, I started walking. I did not know where, as my current position was still a mystery to me, but I was bound to encounter a helpful soul somewhere along the way.

I walked briskly, feeling my way with the stick along the slippery grass, unsure of the course of my unplanned journey. It was then, from out of the darkness, I heard an inaudible whisper.

“Who are you?” I called out. “Please! I am lost! I need help!”

“You do not have to travel far, my friend,” a soothing voice replied.

“Follow the hill for half a mile. When you reach the summit, I will guide you the rest of the way.”

There was a trace of melancholy in the voice that I knew I had to obey. I was lost in the wilderness of God knows where; perhaps
he
held some knowledge of my whereabouts?

I heeded his advice and continued my journey towards the hilltop. I hoped my mysterious benefactor would be true to his word and help me. As I strolled, I desperately tried to recall what had happened to me. My last memory was of a violent argument with my wife, Esther.

She has a lover. I even know his name.

Esther refers to him as her “silver wolf”. He would have been a silver corpse if I wasn't restricted by our modern laws and mechanized society. Alas, I was born in the wrong century.

The passion between us perished long ago, but for the sake of our marriage, I chose to ignore her infidelity.

That proved to be a difficult task as the desire to butcher her grew daily. I convinced myself she seduced him because for the daughters of Eve… seduction and betrayal are in their blood.

* * *

The bottle of whiskey had hissed in my ear, urging me to confront her about the affair and be done with it, once and for all. No more humiliation.

She barged in through the door, her cheeks flushed from sex that should have been with me, her husband.

My senses were dulled by the liquor, as she brushed past and greeted me with blissful ignorance. She felt superior, I'm sure.

Following her into the kitchen, armed with the bottle in one hand and a clenched fist in the other, I halted in the doorframe. I licked my blistered lips and felt the absence of saliva in my dry mouth.

“You look a bit sweaty, darling. Had a rigorous workout?”

Esther flung the fridge door shut and gave me a crawl-back-into-your-bottle kind of look. She proceeded to ignore my intoxicated self and carried on with her endeavours in silence. That pissed me off.

It's bad enough when someone argues back, and you want to silence them by ripping out their tongue, but when you're met with silence like you don't exist… that is an entirely different kind of insult.

“Did you hear me, you fucking harlot?”

Esther faced me at last, a furious fire burning in her ocean-blue eyes.

“Why are you still here? I told you last week to grab your shit and get the fuck out of my flat!”

I staggered away from the door and placed the bottle on our marble credence.

“Because I'm still in love with you,” I pleaded, even though my fingers itched for her throat.

Esther flicked her curly hair in annoyance.

“In case it has escaped your notice, I'm not in love with
you
. In fact, I never loved you,” she said, draining my rapidly depleting ego. “I need a real man, see?

Her laughter echoed through our spacious kitchen. That was the final straw. I couldn't restrain the titan that was my temper any longer.

“You little whore!” I said through gritted teeth, as my backhand connected with her foul mouth.

My sense of pride returned as I watched her trembling in the corner.

“That's right, slut, you will learn your place.”

I turned around and took a swig from the bottle. While I was quenching my thirst, Esther reached for a huge kitchen knife and defiantly pointed it in my face.

“The kitten's got claws, eh?”

Esther kept waving the knife at me as she backed away like a cornered beast.

“Get away from me… you lowlife!”

I stopped and tilted my head to the side.

“Let's find out how sharp your claws really are, little kitty.”

* * *

The grass felt cold under my feet as I continued ascending the monstrous hill. My nostrils detected a swift change in atmosphere, as drops of rain started falling like thousands of sharpened arrows.

The penetrating rain drenched my clothes to the last thread. I shivered, but pressed on. I was determined to reach the summit and hear the voice of my mysterious guide once more. But would he truly lead me home?

* * *

There was fear in her eyes. This gave me an enormous sense of victory. I took a run-up and managed to land a kick in her ribs as she made a feeble slash at my foot but missed.

I needed to refuel, so I left her there, sobbing.

As I took another greedy gulp of whiskey, I heard movement behind me. I whipped around. It was then that I felt the knife being driven deep into my flesh.

Esther's eyes bore into mine. “Take that, you bullying fuck.”

Blood dripped down from my abdomen, decorating the kitchen linoleum. I tried to fight back, but my knees crumbled and I collapsed.

* * *

I reached the top of the treacherous mound and wiped the rain out of my wind-beaten face. It was then that I felt the warm breath in my right ear. It was shallow and hard to hear, but undeniably… someone stood beside me.

“Who's there?”

“I am your Chaperone,” a voice replied, with perfect equilibrium. “I'm here to escort you to your new home.”

“New home?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I am here to take you to a place where those who enter have abandoned all hope.”

This was when the truth finally dawned on me… I was dead.

Tears of Repentance

I
shuddered as a sense of dread washed over me. There was a darkness that was intent on invading my consciousness. I tried to shove the sentiment aside, but I was unable to shake the fear that haunted me whenever the moon was high.

I lived in a small village whose population has been halved by the Black Death. For some reason, it took my parents, but I was spared. Most of my teens were dominated by hard labour and the consumption of vast quantities of mead. I lived a shallow existence until she entered my life and changed everything.

God had blessed me with an angel.

I met her on Execution Rock in Bulgaria. The Tsar had sentenced a vagrant to death, and we were required to witness the event. The condemned vagabond was on his knees in front of him, soiling himself as he begged for his life. I watched with the rest of the crowd as a hand was waved and the man was pushed into the Yantra.

The black river had another victim to devour.

I held my breath and turned away. It was then that her ocean-blue eyes met with mine. For a moment, she distracted me from the screams that would haunt my dreams for weeks to come.

The following evening, I tried to drown my melancholy in the nearest public house. The establishment was crowded, but I still managed to find my one and only. She had a voice that was soft and sweeter than the mead that no longer interested me. Her name was Ingra, and she was beautiful. From the moment she sat down beside me, the two of us were in love.

This was seven years ago.

I strolled through the shadows to my humble dwelling. Part of me hoped she wouldn't come tonight, but I knew that was wishful thinking. My intuition was confirmed when I saw a candle burning on my windowsill.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside, not daring to breathe. The flame was the only source of light available to me. As my pupils adjusted to the murkiness, I spotted a shadow crouching in the corner. It was her. She was wearing the same blood-stained rag that she had worn on that fateful day.

Her face was buried in hands that were forever coloured red. It was my fault. I had led her to this fate.

Ingra raised her shaved head and stared at me with those forget-me-not eyes.

“Take a good look at me!” she said, bitterly. “My blood is on you.”

I lowered my gaze in shame, searching for words that would never be enough.

“I know I failed you,” I said, my voice heavy with guilt, “but you betrayed me first.”

Ingra remained silent.

“How could you give up on us?”

“I waited for you to change,” she replied. “You never did. I loved you more than life itself, but your flaws became too hard to bear. You might think that my decision to abandon you was an act of betrayal, but it was you who pushed me towards such an action.”

“I cried for you every night for a year.”

“I don't want to hear any of your excuses. You are responsible for my death. For that, I will make you pay.”

The flame blew out, and she was gone.

Ingra was right, what happened was my fault, but as far as I was concerned, she died the day she walked out on me.

I knew she was planning to leave the moment our eyes met. They were empty, cold and distant. I sat down and drank some mead, faking my ignorance.

“I feel as if we've grown apart,” she said as she sat in the chair beside me. “When we kiss, I no longer have butterflies in my belly.”

“We've been together for five years,” I replied. “The thrill was bound to diminish.”

This was it, the beginning of the end. I had to ask the question.

“Are you thinking of leaving me?”

“No, Grigor, I'd never do that. You're my soul mate.” She looked away. I could see a conflicted look on her face. “I just… need your permission for something.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Permission?”

“I've started to develop feelings for another man. There is this attraction between us that I can no longer fight. I'm asking you to let us lay together for one night.”

I should have killed her there and then. How could she advocate such madness?

“What do you take me for?!” I raged, slamming my fist on the table. “How could you even approach me with this atrocity? Did you honestly think I would support your desire to copulate with another man?”

Ingra's face was solemn. She remained silent while I gave in to my temper.

“Why did you even seek my permission? Why not just go ahead and do it?”

“Calm down, Grigor, please! I asked because I don't want to lose you! I thought you would understand and see how it would benefit our relationship.”

Ingra reached for my hand, but I moved it away.

“Please, Grigor, look at me.”

“I'm only going to say this once,” I declared. “If you're prepared to sacrifice our many years together for the sake of one meaningless night with some peasant, then you have my permission to fulfil your selfish desire. Just remember that should you give in to this temptation, it will be the end for us.”

“But—”

I gently pressed my finger to her lips. “The choice is yours.”

The harlot left me that night. I was devastated. Deep down, I was convinced that her love wouldn't allow her to leave. How wrong could I be? Her departure took a week to sink in. I kept asking myself… why?

How could I not be enough? She was my second self; my immortal beloved. I tried not to think of her, but there was so much to miss. I found it hard to live without the sound of her voice and the way her eyes lit up as she laughed over the silliest of things.

I collapsed to my knees as an army of tears assaulted my cheeks. I begged God for his guidance and a sign of what I should do next. Loneliness had a hold of me. All I wanted was the comfort of her touch. Every night, I would drink until I passed out. This was the only way I could numb the pain of my broken heart.

After eight months of silence, my prayers were answered. I received a note. I immediately recognized the child-like handwriting as Ingra's. I was suspicious at first, having received no prior correspondence. My pride almost made me throw it into the hearth, but curiosity prevailed.

I sat down and searched my feelings. Yes, my heart still yearned for her company, but I would not seek it out. If I'm to be denied her love, then I should at least keep my dignity.

The note was short, yet direct. “I miss you. Can we meet? My father will tell you where to find me.”

A range of emotions surged through my mind. I had feelings of pain, hate, love and revenge. I ripped the note, twice, before tossing it into the fire. Why did she want to see me now? Did she honestly think I would take her back after another man had been inside her?

I wanted to tell her that I had never stopped loving her, not for a second. Those words were meant to be whispered in her ear as I held her close to me. I had waited so long for this very moment, yet no matter how much I wanted to turn this fantasy into reality, the bitterness in my heart forbade it.

She wasn't worthy of mine or anyone else's love. Ingra had betrayed me and had to be stopped before she could inflict this kind of pain on someone else. I'd walked through hell and back because of her. I deserved some justice.

I decided to go to church and seek the advice of Father Todor. I was going to lie to a man of the cloth in order to get my revenge on a former lover.

“Ah, Grigor, my son, what brings you here?”

“I've come to see you because I am troubled. I witnessed something terrible last night, and I need to tell someone.”

“What is it?”

“It's about Ingra, Father. I've discovered her secret. She hid it well, but last night I uncovered the truth!”

“What have you found out?”

“I was plagued with insomnia, so I went for a walk in the woods. I heard voices and decided to investigate. It was then that I recognized her naked figure. She was dancing with some other wenches; they were all nude and chanting words in a language I'd never heard before. That was when it occurred to me that she must be a witch!”

“This is grave news indeed, my son. I know her father. He is an honest, god-fearing man. Are you absolutely sure of this?”

“Yes, Father. When we lived together, she used to go out at night. I never knew where, but now I know!”

Father Todor was a superstitious man who despised witches. That was why I went to him. His prejudice would ensure that my story would be taken seriously.

“The Devil placed his mark upon her inner thigh. You have to believe me, Father. She is the devil's whore. I'm scared she will come after me!”

“Yes, yes of course,” mumbled the priest, “I will inform the Tsar at once.”

Ingra was seized that very evening on suspicion of witchcraft. She was tortured until she confessed. The Tsar sentenced her to death without a trial.

Next morning, the villagers gathered on Execution Rock. As with every woman accused of such a crime, she would burn on the pyre.

“HERE COMES THE WITCH! BURN HER! BURN HER! BURN THE WITCH!”

Two of the Tsar's guards dragged Ingra towards the fire and tied her to the stake. She was a frightening sight to behold. Her golden hair had been shaved off while all her teeth had been pulled out. They were the souvenirs of the torture she had endured.

As Father Todor prayed for her damned soul, the villagers bayed for blood. I threw the first torch, and many more followed. “I'm pregnant,” she screamed, but her words were lost beneath the hate of the angry mob. Her eyes that were once ocean-blue turned into an ocean of sorrow.

I wept as I'm weeping now. She didn't deserve to die. I had no right to seal her fate in the way I did. I knew in my heart, why her ghost kept visiting. It was her turn to be thirsty for vengeance.

The night after she'd threatened me, her ghost returned. I thought she was only allowed to visit me once a month. Why was she back so soon? Was she here to take my soul to the underworld?

“Are you here to kill me, Ingra?”

“Why would I want that?”

“Then what do you want? Why are you here? What is the purpose of your visits?”

“I know what I asked of you was irrational and unfair, but was it worth condemning me to death?”

I shook my head in frustration. “It was the Tsar, not me! I tried, Ingra! The longer I waited, the more I missed you. But you never came back! You wrote a note, but you never knocked on my door! I thought you loved me, but you left me for another man! I couldn't live with that. You were mine and mine alone, so I made sure that if I couldn't have you, no one else could.”

She fell silent for a moment. “There was never anyone else.”

“I'm supposed to believe that?”

“Yes. I was faithful until the end. It was your child that was growing in my womb as I burned to death.”

Ingra's tears flowed down her cheeks as she continued with her confession.

“You see, the day I left you, I went for a walk in the forest and thought about the last few years. I'd rushed into our relationship, and even though I loved you, I was confused about what I wanted. I started suffocating through the intensity of our union! I was confused. I thought that if I slept with another man the feeling might depart. I saw the pain in your eyes the day I asked for your permission, so I left and secretly moved back in with my father. I started the rumours that I had moved into the next village. I needed time to figure out what I really wanted from you… and from myself. Then, I finally realized how rare and wonderful our relationship truly was. I made the decision to come back to you, only to discover that you had made a decision of your own… to have me killed.”

“I didn't want that! I just didn't know what else to do!”

Having made her confession, Ingra had gone. She had passed over into the next realm. I bowed my head. At last, I knew what I had to do.

I ran out into the cold night, through the village with its dogs that barked at the moon. I raced as fast as I could up the hill until I finally reached Execution Rock. I crept to the edge and stared into the black abyss. This was what Ingra's ghost desired. Of course, in my heart, I knew it was my conscience that had haunted me each and every night.

My reckoning had come. I closed my eyes and prayed.

If faith divides us, death will unite us.