A Wayward Soul
Flash Fiction February (Day 14)
Lisa Ferris held the pitcher of lemonade over two glasses on the opposite side of her antique coffee table. Her hands shook as she poured, spilling liquid before she set the pitcher down.
“I’m so sorry; let me clean that up,” she said, reaching for a paper towel roll to her right.
Agent Reyna Philips reached out to stop her.
“It’s okay, we can get it,” she said, looking at her partner.
Agent Michael Durwood grunted with disapproval before ripping off a paper towel and soaking up the spilled lemonade. He hated it when Reyna got attached to people during a case.
Lisa nodded, wringing her hands together nervously as she stared at the ground.
“Can you tell us when all of this started?” Agent Durwood asked.
“It’s been a couple of weeks now. I tried taking him to doctors and specialists, but they couldn’t find anything wrong with him. Everything stopped happening the second I took him out of the house.”
Agent Durwood took notes on a small pad. Although his handwriting was terrible, he could read it just fine.
Potential location-based causality, he wrote.
“And you said your son’s voice changes when it happens?” Agent Philips asked.
Lisa turned and stared out the window. Her face was pale. The wrinkles in her skin seemed to trap her exhaustion and pain.
“It doesn’t sound anything like my Matthew. It’s a lower voice, and it’s so angry. When it happens, things start floating all around him. The other day, it happened in the kitchen, and I lost nearly all my glasses.”
Lisa pointed to the two overfilled glasses of lemonade. “Those are the only two I have left.”
Agent Durwood took down another note:
Telekinesis?
“Can we see your son, Ms. Ferris?” Agent Philips asked.
Lisa stood up and pointed to a hallway past the kitchen.
“I’ll stay here if that’s alright. He scares me lately.”
Agent Durwood walked past Lisa, but Agent Philips stopped and hugged the woman.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said.
“I don’t believe you, but I appreciate you saying it all the same,” Lisa replied.
The two agents passed framed photos of Lisa and Matthew as they made their way down the hall to the first bedroom on the left. It was like walking through a time machine—a pathway of memories that led to the present.
They entered Matthew’s bedroom, which was decorated exactly as one would expect for a ten-year-old child. Posters hung on the walls showing cartoon mascots and current bands. The comforter on the bed had a colorful graphic of a knight fighting a dragon.
Matthew himself sat at a small desk against the right wall. He was drawing on a large sheet of paper. A pile of multi-colored crayons was haphazardly splayed across the space to his right. Agent Philips walked up behind him, looking down at the drawing.
It was crude, but the subject matter was apparent. It was a battlefield. Various figures were drawn along the ground, all dismembered. Streaks of bright red ran from their wounds.
“What are you drawing?” Agent Philips asked.
The child's voice was far too deep to match his stature. It was also tinged with sadness and pain that only a life of battle could provide.
“It’s the last clear memory I have from before this nightmare started,” the child said.
Agent Philips looked back to her partner. Durwood was already writing down a new note in his notepad.
Displacement likely.
“Do you remember anything about the space between this memory and the body you’re in now?” Agent Philips asked.
Matthew set down his crayon.
“I remember heaven’s light, radiant and warm upon my skin. I remember feeling the touch of my wife before she was wrenched away from me once more. I had fought my entire life, and I had earned my rest, but it was taken from me.”
Reyna laid a hand on Matthew’s back. “You were chosen to become a Warden. Do you know what that means?”
Matthew slammed his fist on the desk. “I didn’t choose this! I didn’t choose unfathomable pain. I didn’t choose to be wrenched from the afterlife to become a puppet in your endless war! You spoke of duty, of immortality, but I desire neither. I have already etched my name into the folds of time. I have fought and died in glorious battle!”
“I understand, but this cause is bigger than both of us,” Agent Philips said.
“I DESERVE MY REST!” Matthew roared.
The crayons and drawing began rising off the desk's surface, as did other toys from a basket across the room. Even Agent Philips’ hair started levitating off her shoulders. Durwood took down another note:
The missing soul?
Agent Durwood leaped forward, grabbing his partner by the shoulders and throwing her to the ground. The crayons shot out in all directions like knives, exploding against the walls, leaving splatters of color against the bland paint.
“We have to subdue him, now! Both souls are fighting for control of the body,” Agent Durwood shouted.
“No, I can talk to him!” Agent Philips replied.
“No, we already tried your way.”
Durwood placed his hand on the edge of the bed and stood up. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a pocket watch.
“You’re coming with us, wayward soul,” Agent Durwood said.
Matthew retreated to the window. “Never! I will find my way back to the golden fields of Elysium, with or without your help!”
Durwood pressed the switch on top of the pocket watch. The golden plate fell open, revealing an intricate clock inside.
“You’re not going anywhere, I’m afraid.”
Agent Durwood spun the pocket watch around to face Matthew. A flash of brilliant white light came from within, and Matthew froze in place, his hands outstretched toward the latch on the window. Durwood closed the pocketwatch and put it back into his jacket pocket.
He took out his notepad once more and wrote down a final thought:
Separation and reintegration are required.
Agent Philips stood up, eyeing her partner with contempt.
“I could have handled it,” she said.
“He would have killed you,” Durwood replied.
Having worked up the courage to enter the room, Lisa Ferris recoiled at the sight of her child frozen in time.
“What did you do to my Matthew?” she cried.
Agent Philips held Lisa back while Agent Durwood walked over and picked up the child. Matthew’s entire body was stiff, frozen in that exact moment.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but he needs to come with us,” Durwood said.
“No! You fix him and leave right now!” Lisa screamed.
Agent Philips pulled out a felt pouch from her jacket. She turned it upside down over Lisa’s head. Sparkling dust that seemed to shimmer in every color descended onto the woman’s face. Her screams and cries of protest ceased immediately.
Her hands went limp at her sides. Her upturned face, sparkling with the strange dust, morphed into a warm smile.
Agent Philips put the pouch back into her jacket. “All set. Let’s get out of here.”
Agent Durwood nodded. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
A few hours later, Lisa Ferris emerged from the spell Agent Philips had left her in.
The effect had been like a warm hug. A daydream about one of her happier memories. She was honestly disappointed to be back.
Lisa ran around the room and searched the house for her son, but he was gone. She felt her mind unraveling, and hopelessness was closing in from all sides.
Then she heard a knock at the door.
She opened it and saw a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length black hair. She was wearing a leather jacket and a silk scarf that covered her neck.
“Who are you?” Lisa asked.
“Well, the people who work for me call me Zal’ythra. Your tongue can’t pronounce my true name.”
She extended a hand. Lisa shook it without a second thought. Her aura was calming and infectious.
“What do you want?” Lisa asked.
“I’m here to talk about the people who took your son. I’ve run into them before.”
Lisa felt tears burning behind her eyes. “Would you like to come in?”
The woman nodded, stepping through the front door.
“I’m grateful you’re here, Ms. Zal’ythra,” Lisa said, shutting the door.
The woman took off her scarf and draped it over one of the chairs in the dining room. The skin beneath was gray and rotting.
She turned back around to face Lisa. “Please, that name is so stuffy. Call me Zariel,” she said.
Zariel gestured to one of the chairs. “Now, have a seat. Let’s talk about how we’re going to get your son back. Would you like that?”
Lisa sat down, unbothered by the strange state of Zariel’s body.
She smiled for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “I’d like that very much.”
Thanks for Reading! Here’s Your Musical Pairing
Listen to this after reading, like pairing a glass of wine with dinner.
You are world building!!!! Nicely done.... 🙌
Whoa! This was so cool!!
This is amazing work!