- - - - - - - - - - - - -
THE WAITING ROOM
I was inside a
large, white room and everything was cloudy. I couldn't tell whether
there was something wrong with my vision, or whether there was actual
mist surrounding me. Waving a hand experimentally in front of me told
me that it was a little of both. Very confusing, I had no immediate
recollection of how I came to be there. My last memories were of
Sarah, the fall, and the repulsive leering face of Josh. Him,
standing at the bedroom window, watching me as I dropped, mouth open,
eyes wild. I hated him for what he did to me.
This didn't explain
how I had come to be there though, nor the distinct absence of pain
in my body. Had I landed on my back? My legs? I definitely started to
go backwards as the ladder toppled, and I can remember holding Josh's
gaze for what seemed like forever. The bastard. I still couldn't
believe what he had done to Sarah. What he was doing to Sarah, my
Sarah, the bastard. And then to push the ladder...
But I was getting
ahead of myself. Despite the rage burning away, I still didn't know
where the hell I was. The room was long, like the main hall of a
church, with a strange uneven ceiling that curved down at the sides.
It was like a cavern with smooth painted walls, as though someone had
taken a large burrow and given it some interior decorating. And then
there was the mist. It shrouded everything, giving the whole place an
unreal feel. That, and the fact that I'd apparently just appeared
there from out of thin air.
“I assure you
that this is very real.”
A voice. From out
of the mist came this voice; calm and authoritative but in a soft
way. It had come from the centre of the room. I squinted into the
mists and after a few seconds I could discern a round silhouette,
probably four feet tall or so. Strange. Had I been thinking aloud?
What was this thing?
“Come closer
and see. I won't bite.”
There was something
reassuring in its tone. I cautiously stepped forwards into the mist,
noting as I did how my legs did not ache or feel stiff. It was as
though I had just woken up.
“In a manner
of speaking, you have.”
Then I could see it
more clearly. It was about four feet tall, a round thing, covered in
brown woolly fur. There were some pointy bits at the top, ears
possibly? And some yellow eyes, unblinking, focused on the ground in
front of me. I suppose it had a face in that respect.
“What are you?”
I asked, in a manner that betrayed how nervous I was. This situation
was alien.
“I'm
different,” it replied after a pause, “to everything else.
I appreciate that this scenario is different to everything else
you've ever experienced. To a degree.”
It had got that
right. It felt as though I was participating in a car crash in slow
motion, getting psychic whiplash, or something crazy like that. And
all because of Josh? It must be.
“You don't
like him do you? You're blaming him for your being here.”
There
it was again, seeing what I was thinking. I definitely hadn't been
thinking out loud, I was paying close attention to myself. But it was
right, I was blaming Josh.
“You
think he is the reason that you died.”
“Died?!”
But this all seemed so real, despite its unrealness. Tangible. I
mean, I felt full of energy, alive, ready to go. And though I'd
fallen from the top of the ladder it was only storeys up. People have
fallen from higher. People have fallen out of planes and lived.
“You
landed onto concrete. The point of impact was just below the base of
your neck. You shattered your cervical vertebrae.”
Instinctively
I reached up and rubbed my neck. It felt fine, as though nothing had
happened. As though I hadn't been pushed from the top of the ladder
by the biggest son of a bitch I'd ever met.
“You blame him
for your death and you hate him more than anything in the world.”
“You're
damn right! This guy has ruined my life! He's killed me and taken
away from me the one person I love. Not only that, but he's using
her! He doesn't care for her! It's all just a game to him! It's all a
game and she doesn't know!” Hearing myself say these words out loud
really brought everything home. A tear rolled down my cheek.
It
looked up at me. Its yellow eyes glowed in the mist, their radiance
asked questions of me that its voice could not. They burned with an
intensity that cut through the swirling confusion.
“And
you want revenge?”
It
asked the question, even though it already knew the answer. As though
it just wanted to hear me respond, to engage with the question and
its implications. But if what it said was true, that I was dead, how
could I get revenge?
“From
this afterlife you have three chances. Although your body has been
broken, your soul still burns brightly with life. In the process of
reincarnation, your soul can pass into a body that is still whole.
Your soul will merge with that which resides within. In this way, you
can have another attempt at life.
This may happen three times.”
“So,
I can go back, and get three shots at revenge that way?”
“What
you do with this opportunity is for you to decide. Should you wish to
pursue vengeance there are a couple of things you must be aware of,
however.” It stopped and
blinked, very deliberately, as though what it was about to say
contained great weight. “There are some factors which you
may find limiting to your mission.
“Firstly,
you will be reborn into the body of a creature that is different to
your previous one. You will find that each subsequent reincarnation
will be a step further from your previous form. Secondly, as there
will already be a soul present in the body, your past memories will
not be present to begin with. The shock of rebirth will push them to
the back of your unconscious. They will need to be re-awakened, which
will happen when you encounter something that will connect with them.
Through subsequent reincarnations, the reawakening process becomes
harder.”
This
brought to mind all of those stories you hear about people coming
back as animals. Birds that visit bereaving families and comfort them
in their loss. Dogs replacing lost children.
“If
this is the case, why aren't there more stories of animals attacking
humans? I would have thought everyone would be desperate for this
sort of opportunity.”
“Not
everyone who dies wants revenge. And not all who want revenge are
able to harbour such feelings after experiencing a second chance of
life. Not all wish to sacrifice another life in order to satisfy the
yearnings of one that has already expired.”
These
seemed like reasonable arguments, but my anger was much stronger by
far. It wouldn't be a sacrifice, not like it was making out. I could
be reincarnated, save Sarah from that beast and be done with it. See
out the rest of my days in peace.
“As
you wish. There is a door at the end of the room. It will take you
where you seek. Be wary though. Every living being has its own story.
It would be a mistake to think that yours is the most complete simply
because it is the one you are most familiar with.”
With
those words it averted its gaze again, contemplating the floor in
front of me once more. It felt as though a pressure was lifted from
my shoulders. As though I had been in court and the verdict had just
been announced. I looked forward into the mist and at once I could
see a dim light at the far end of the room. This must be the doorway
onwards. With great purpose I strode past the thing and made for the
exit, with vivid thoughts of vengeance dancing in my mind.
* * *
BARRY AND THE AWAKENING.
Warm,
mmmmmmmmm, hot, I love lying in the sun, it's fun, yes it is. Mmmmm,
nothing like a nice stroll with the Leader, but still lovely, this
spot is so comfy. Normally I don't like it when the Leader goes away
and shuts me in his moving house, but it is rather soft to lie in and
when the sun is shining it gets so lovely and warm its almost as if
I'm in my basket, or even when I used to nuzzle up against my dam all
that time ago when it was our basket and not just mine, mmmmmmm.
I
wonder where the Leader has gone, he's gone and left the Lead just
lying there in the front on the friend chair, and I want to go and
get it but I know that if I do it won't be the same as it is when the
Leader gets it, and the Leader doesn't like me sitting in the friend
chair, no, not there. Ahhhhhhhhhh, it's so warm that I don't mind,
I'll find that the Leader will come back and then we'll go for a nice
walk, or maybe he'll talk to me and give some food, good, mmmmmmm.
There
was one time when the Leader left me in here, and he left the glass
bits all up and it got too warm, like the room where the Leader makes
his food, not good, mmm, and I felt quite ill, still, will not happen
again I don't think, as the Leader has learnt and has left it, the
glass bit, open and –
Wait
a minute.
An
open window.
Josh.
All
of a sudden, a deluge of memories falls on top of me, burying me in
the past. I remember everything. The window, the fall, the look on
his face as it happened. The bastard. He was going to pay.
I
wag my tail at this thought, making a pleasing thump-thump-thump
noise as it whacked against the soft leather of the back seat. Neat,
I was back, on track and ready to get some revenge. Once the Leader
got back I would be able to get out of this car and then see about
tracking down Josh.
The
more I think about Josh though, the more images in my head seem to
come together. This repulsive man, the bane of my previous existence,
his image is everything that the Leader isn't; the Leader is lovely
and kind and takes me for walks, gives me food, good, and pats my
head before basket time. Despite this though, the smell of the
Leader, that wonderful kind smell, seems to be bound up with Josh.
Repulsive man, delightful smell. Both pictures seem to be drawn
together in this car.
And
then I get it. What the connection was. Why these two seemingly
incongruous images were meeting here in this car. This is Josh's car.
I should have recognised the faux-leather interior, tacky wood
stained finish on the dashboard, Millwall FC air freshener. Lack of
air circulation for his dog.
I
am his dog, Barry! This is perfect. Poor old Barry was going to bite
that hand that feeds him. I can see myself now, leaping up at Josh as
soon as he opens the door to the car, cannoning forward onto his
chest, the shock of my weight forcing him to fall backwards to the
floor, me on top of him, clawing at his face, then sinking my jaws
into his neck, canines and incisors digging into his weak flesh,
feeble arms beating against me but too late, too late to stop the
merciless rush of his blood, wet and hot into my –
But
here he is! Coming to open the door to the car, some kind of sick,
animal grin on his face. I can hear the jingle-jangle of the keys as
he pulls them out of his pocket, so I know, not having much time, I
have to leap into the front seat, neat, sweet look in my eyes masking
the murderous rage within. His hand has moved to the door handle. I
can hear him mumbling something, the words seem strange to my ears,
but I can smell his surprise, wafting in through the opening in the
glass bit. Then he opens the door.
I
spring forward, like a wolf, like a hunter, but he is swift. He sees
me coming and sidesteps my lunge. I fly out of the car and onto the
hot tarmac of the road. I hadn't noticed that the door has opened up
onto the road. I am dazed. There is an intense assault of scents,
smells, odours, so many, overpowering, and I find myself cowering.
I'm not prepared for all this. Josh is shouting something but its
lost in the rush. The onrushing scents, the onrushing scents.
The
onrushing car.
* * *
