Moonlight Dew (Stop laughing)

Note To Readers: The direct copy and paste seems to have made the indents disappear like a Stalin dissenter. Sorry 'boot that.

The rain beat down upon Clair's overcoat. It was a cold rain, but not nearly as hard as the rain Clair had been through in the Mid West. The night air caused Clair's breath to come out in white puffs.

It was a long trip, from Illinois to Nevada. Walter, Clair's husband, was away on business again, this time in Jamaica, and the kids were off to stay with their grandmother. As the taxi pulled away, Clair began to feel regret over taking a plane instead of driving. With no way to move about without someone helping her, it really limited Clair. She has not seen her best friend Melindra in many years, but that wasn't what made Clair's spine go stiff with fear.

Before her friend Melindra moved, she had a son. Her son, Paul, has always been an eerie child. Whenever Clair babysat for Paul, she would sometimes find him just staring at her. He would stare with a blank, almost glazed over look. But those eyes were like augers, peering deep in to her soul. It almost felt as if he could see inside her and he was simply looking for something. Whenever she asked Paul what he was staring at, though, Paul simply looked at her askance and walked off.

It is not as if Paul had a bad relationship with Clair. Paul was a normal sounding boy most of the time. He, like other boys, talked about friends, and girls with their cooties, and about baseball. Not only was he a somewhat normal child, but he also lived a very active lifestyle. Though the last time Clair saw him is when he was ten years old, he seemed to be quite fit. Paul also as a boy had curled brown locks and clear green eyes. He would do well with the ladies later in life, as long as he turned out normal.

But that was the past. This is eight years later. Clair wasn't exactly thrilled to see Paul, but she was excited to see her friend Melindra.

The house Melindra lived in with her husband Tony seemed to be quite large. Clair supposed the cost of living in Nevada could not be too high. At least not as high as in Illinois anyway. But they seemed well off nonetheless. Melindra always did talk of white picket fences and a child in the house. Clair had to admit that sometimes her friend did have her head in the clouds when it came to real life, but it seemed as if Melindra and Tony had tried to fulfill Melindra's dream.

Clair was completely different on the other hand. Rather than dreaming of life in the future, Clair's focus was math and science in school. Rather than being popular and pretty like her friend, Melindra kept her nose in a book. Having raven black hair which covered your face with drab clothes to cover the rest of your body was not exactly the prettiest or most popular look in the eighties. Everything turned out fine for Clair though. After an artistic “stint” in Germany, Clair returned to the states to find a business man. Walter was not the most sophisticated, nor was he the most charming, but his business mind was sharp and his intellect strong. Walter said he had been quite a ladies’ man in high school, but something about the stories made it seem untrue. They lived together in an apartment, or they spent nights in there. Walter was not home during the day, and most nights he would come in at midnight smelling of liquor. But it seems Melindra's dreams were easier to achieve, for she did live in a fairly nice house.

The house was a big house. Blue paint, slightly peeled and cracked with time, coated the exterior. The window shutters were a blue-gray and seemed to be in better condition than the walls. The windows were clean and fairly large compared to the neighbors. Lights beamed in almost every room Clair could see. Maybe Melindra had company over, or maybe Melindra did not understand that having the lights on wastes power. No matter, Clair would talk to Melindra about it inside. Inside, where it was warm, hopefully.

The fires shot up around Paul. As he turned on the spit made of human bones, he cried incessantly. Devils danced upon his head, chanting a wicked song, the dirge of human suffering. The flames grew higher and closer, slowly beginning to lick Paul's face with a burning tongue.

“Nothing worse than eternal damnation to completely destroy a human soul.” A demon whispered in Paul's ear. “Men mock the fate the God's shall deal, but they all come around eventually. Do not celebrate the evils in life, Paul.”

As the spit turned and turned, life slowly drained from Paul. He wept bitterly as bones began to char and nerves began to scream with pain. Nothing could be worse. Oh, but the torture did not end there. A burly demon with the horns of a goat and the legs of a horse grabbed a white hot fork and jabbed Paul in his now exposed stomach, draining the fluids of digestions, spilling the innards on the brimstone that lay beneath. With a roar no human could produce, Paul shook with a pain no human should feel. With vulture-like eyes, demons appeared and went to feast on the sizzling intestines which once provided Paul with life. He watched as the demons ate with an insatiable appetite. There was nothing left to feel.

No use catching a cold standing outside. Clair thought to herself as she approached the door. The door was a pale blue and made of sturdy oak. Clair hesitantly rang the doorbell. Who knows what all the years apart could have done. As the door opened, Clair sighed with relief as Melindra stood in the doorway. Clair's old friend beamed a welcoming smile, the dimples on her cheeks coming out whenever she was happy.

“Clair, it has been too long!” Exclaimed Melindra as she squeezed her friend affectionately. Melindra looked radiant as ever. She was as pretty as she was in high school with her long blonde hair and her deep blue eyes. Time seemed to be gentle with her as almost no age showed upon her face other than maybe the tiny smile lines at the corners of her mouth.

“Far too long!” Clair wheezed, trying her best not to suffocate and still return the hug.

“Well come in, let us get you out of that rain.” Melindra said quickly, bustling Clair inside. Clair had no choice but to be moved about in such a way. The greetings and questions came quickly from Melindra. Clair tried to answer the best she could while maintaining her balance while Melindra stripped Clair of her coat and offered to take her wet shoes. Clair obliged and in an instant found herself sitting across from her friend with a hot cup of cocoa in front of her.

From what Clair could see, the house was as grand as Melindra could make it. Pictures of family and friends adorned the entrance hall. The hall lead up to the family room on one side and the kitchen on the other. The quick glance Clair was able to get showed that Melindra and her husband, who is a lawyer, seem to live in the lap of luxury. The kitchen Clair sat in seemed to be expensive. In the corner, a cabinet full of glassware stood. The refrigerator was one of those huge double door ones with a television built in to one door and an ice maker in the other. And if she saw it right, the pantry doors were huge, surely holding stocks of food. The oven and dishwasher seemed to be top of the line. The walls were half white plaster and half mahogany wood. Not only that, but the room had vaulted ceilings which must have risen to at least twenty feet in height. The table that Clair and Melindra sat at had gold gilt trimmings along the edges and in the wood. The whole room felt in a word, polished.

“How was the flight in, Clair?” Melindra asked sipping her cocoa.

“It was so-so. The economy class was quite crowded.” Clair spoke over the top of her cup. The cocoa was much too sweet. It was so sweet it was almost bitter. Putting the cup down, Clair decided she would drink no more of it.

For a while, the pair just sat there and stared at each other. Melindra drank the cocoa while glancing at some porcelain bowls or a fruit bowl that was in the middle of the table. When Melindra finally met Clair's eyes, Clair beamed a warm smile at her friend and Melindra did the same, once again bringing out her dimples. Clair wished for something to happen, someone to walk in, something to break this uncomfortable silence.

Paul carried the weight up the hill as he trudged upward. The crime he committed could not warrant such a punishment, yet here he was, marching to his death. The brown, stiff grass poked at his bare feet and dry, scratchy weeds stuck Paul in the foot when he did not watch where he was going. But how could he care about such small things when he was slowly going to his demise. Death by crucifixion, a most unfitting end indeed.

What crime did he commit though? Simply getting people to believe in something is surely not a crime. Helping people with afflictions is surely no crime. Yet, by using his Father's power, he has doomed himself to a fate like this. Why does mankind destroy the good in fear of change? A question Paul will have little time to ponder if he dies quickly, though that does not seem to be the case.

As Paul finally reached the summit, he lost all will and finally gave up. He collapsed under his own weight and fell to the ground, the crucifix laying upon him. The Roman bailiffs wrestled him to his feet and began to prop him up to hang. They first drove nails through his hands, binding his palms to the wood. They then crossed his feet and nailed one large nail through both of them at the same time, destroying the ligaments and tendons, opening the passage for blood to slowly drain out of him. And there he remained until pain finally overcame Paul, and he passed out.

Paul awoke in a chamber lying on a slab of cold rock. The dungeon was pitch black save for a lantern the Roman bailiffs must have left burning in the corner. The lantern illuminated the walls, showing the walls to be jagged rocks, and the ceiling to be compacted earth. Paul also felt his hands and feet. As surely as it happened to holes resided in both. It was disgusting really. The flesh formed a funnel shape where the nail drove through. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but what was going on was still unclear. Paul tried to stand but found the pain in his feet was still present. Sitting back down on the 2 foot high slab of rock, Paul looked down to the floor. Tears slowly leaked from Paul's eyes as he realized what must be happening. But with the tears came a new determination. He was going to stand up, walk over to the lantern, grab it, and find a way out. With a new surge of energy, Paul sprang to his feet. This time, he fell over completely. Unlike last time, though, he never hit the dirt ground, instead, he fell. He fell, and no ground was there. The hole sucked him in and in a blink, Paul found himself in a whole other situation.

Clair's hopes had come true when Melindra's husband Tony walked in.

“Hey love. Hello Clair, how have you been? I hope you haven't been giving that husband of yours a hard time.” Tony greeted Clair taking off his coat. Tony was an attractive man. He was well built and had a rugged sense about him. He wore a trim beard and his posture and composition spoke of many years of football when he was younger. Tony was a jock in high school, and through his actions and speech, it showed. He would always watch the game on TV or invite his friends over to watch it where then they would have some beers and pretzels and talk about the teams playing. Tony would often have a group of friends over as his house was always the favored house in the group.

“Well Tony, I try to let him off the hook most of the time.” When they actually talked that is. “How has work been treating you?” Clair called to Tony who disappeared in to the family room for a moment before reappearing in the doorway.

“I have been working to make partner with a large law firm. All in the pursuit of making Melindra happy of course.” Tony responded as he watched his wife appreciatively. Of course Tony and Melindra had been star struck lovers who fell in love and had a kid almost right out of high school. With Tony going to law school, Clair believed that life had been hard on Melindra, who had to raise Paul all on her own. Quite a task it must have been with a child as strange as Paul was.

“And Paul of course.” Melindra added with look of an idea blooming on her face. “Why Clair, you haven't seen Paul yet, have you?” Melindra said energetically. The facial expression on Melindra said that she had finally found something worthwhile to show Clair. “He has grown up so well. He is smart, athletic, and he is quite popular at his school. He will be graduating this year and he plans to go to go UCLA, the University of California Los Angeles.” Melindra said eagerly, trying to gauge the reaction on Clair's face. Of course Clair was surprised. UCLA was a somewhat prestigious school, even famous on the East Coast. Melindra quickly stood up and guided her friend upstairs. The first door on the right was apparently Paul's door because Melindra went right in and called Paul's name.

The first thing Melindra did was cry.

Paul awoke in his room, groggy and still somewhat tired. He looked around to make sure everything was the way he left it. The desk overflowing with school books and note books still sat in the corner. His book shelf with books haphazardly stacked in it still stood against the wall to the left. The closet door to the right of his bed was open a crack and he could see the same clothes still hung there. Clothes still lay scattered about his room. The walls were still white, and the bed was still soft. Oh the joy of waking up and being alive.

Raking a hand through his curly hair, Paul crawled out of bed and threw on some old clothes from his hamper. The shag carpet felt good on his bare feet. Realizing what dream he just had, Paul sat back down on the bed and checked his feet. No holes, no cuts. It indeed was just a dream. Looking out the window hanging over his bed, the sun shine glanced across his face, bringing warmth to Paul. Once again Paul stood up and trudged over to the door. Slowly he gripped the handle. The handle was metal, but it felt quite warm.

An odd sensation shot through Paul's hand. Pain.

With a cry, Paul withdrew his hand from the door knob and examined his hand. Little bleeding teeth marks were etched in to his hand. Teeth marks? With a jerk Paul stared up at the handle. It was not a handle at all. It was a tiny head of a man. The head twisted and contorted, wailing at Paul curses that singed the ear. The demonic shrunken head fought to free itself.

“AHHH! The Gods want your blood, Paul! Do not dear defy them!” The head screamed at Paul in a voice small enough for a mouse yet loud enough for a roar. Paul observed that the bald, menacing head did not have regular teeth, but large triangular fangs which were tipped with blood.

Without another thought Paul jumped over to his bed, backing himself against the wall. Something so small could not be so scary, but the way the head moved, staring down Paul with hungry eyes and a sinister snare shot feelings of terror up Paul's spine. The tiny head fought the bounds of the wooden door to break free, the lust for blood morphing the thing in to a violent rage.

Just then the head broke free and shot itself right at Paul's face.

The paramedics were on their way, but what they could do, Clair was not sure. Paul lay naked on his bed, skin bound tight across his skull, his cheeks gaunt and white. Paul was sweating profusely and he looked incredibly skinny. Almost as if anorexia has wracked Paul for weeks. His curled hair lay matted on his head and his breathing war rasp and infrequent. Melindra cried in Tony's arms while Tony stared expressionlessly at his son.

Clair slowly approached Paul and wiped away sweat and hair away from his forehead and felt it. It was deathly cold. Clair then lifted each eyelid to check for pupil dilation. There were no pupils. There were no irises. Paul's eyeballs were completely blank. Clair quickly looked away with a shot of grief and pain. She had never seen anything like that before in her life.

The rain beat against the window as the three watched Paul die. The breaths became shorter and Paul turned even more pale and white. Clair stood leaning against the wall and looked down at her feet. Tony was now trying to comfort Melindra, telling her that once the ambulance got her Paul would be O.K. What could have possibly happened? Melindra and Tony both said they saw him everyday and there is no way someone could have lost so much weight so fast. Melindra said Paul came home, grabbed some food and went to his room. Nothing odd happened after that.

The rain spattered against the window more violently than before.

Paul soared through the air, finally crashing down in the middle of a grassy field soggy with rain. He opened his eyes and peered to the skies. Completely clear, yet rain came down in bullets. The dream never ended. For hours and hours and hours Paul simply stared in to the sky, wincing every time a rain drop hit him in the face. The stars lay behind a haze. A dream. A dream.

A dream.

A sense of serenity pervaded through the dream. It was all becoming clear. It is all a dream. Life an illusion. A larger illusion of what people think. What peace to the mind then? Slowly Paul stood up and found the moon in his vision. He watched the majestic shape in the sky. His eyes listened to the twinkling symphony of the stars. The night sky provided a pillow of solace. With a new tranquility, the man sat down and stared up at the heavenly figure. The grass gleamed with dew. The celestial beams of light bounced from the Earth to the Heavens. It was all peaceful. Nothing could disturb him.

Abruptly the rain stopped. Clair looked out the windows and saw no clouds even in the sky. Melindra gave a cry and bound for Paul. Tony followed shortly behind hugging both Paul and his wife. Paul looked healthy. He had his color back, and somehow he was athletically fit again. His face was full and carried his full boyish charm. His hair seemed unperturbed as it rested gently on the bed. A slight smile laid spread across Paul's face. Clair noticed something though.

“Melindra, Tony, Paul isn't breathing.”

That brought an even louder wail from Melindra. She cried even harder and now even Tony had tears streaming down his face. As they both gripped their son crying, Clair stared up at the stars. It seemed as if the moon was glowing brighter than before, and one star sparkled brighter than the others.

To this day, Clair does not understand what happened. But from now on, she is open.

By: Sam Croarkin Originally Completed: 12/20/06 Edited 6/24/07 (c) <--- Natural Copyright