The Weeping Thing Ch. 04

It was undoubtedly a church, slightly wider than even the most generous of the residences. It had a set of double doors over a single, wide wooden step, easily able to allow entry to a full four people abreast of one another. The roof might have been the only one in town that had actual shingles on it instead of thatch. A great stone chimney was constructed to keep the congregation warm on cooler Sabbaths.

The most curious aspects of the church were that it seemed to have been hued in an ugly and arresting shade of black, as if the darkest mud have been rudely smeared all over both the walls and roof. Also, the same clapboard that made up the exterior walls covered the few windows, as if no sunlight were allowed to enter into that place.

"Inside that church lives the soul of Solomon Cabot." Emelina declared, before she spun about on her heels and purposefully strode away.

Matt hurried to catch up with her. "What happened to him?"

Emelina did not respond until she'd reached the main path, where she resumed her normal walking pace.

"Pan came to me in my dreams." She revealed. "Not into my sisters' dreams, but only into mine. He would reveal to me that Solomon made sinister plans against the six of us. This took place after Solomon twice left me without a husband. Pan also revealed that Solomon was not cursing us on his own. He was working in conjunction with a small coven of six witches. When they all endeavored toward the same end, they were achieving what I termed as black miracles."

"Couldn't you tell anybody what was going on?" Matt asked. "Wasn't there anyone who could help you?"

"Solomon held great sway in our community." She replied. "He was the understudy of our pastor. Frequently, he would run errands for our pastor. On occasion Solomon even gave us our sermons. The other members of his coven were also highly placed. They were among the wealthiest people in town."

Emelina sighed. "We tried to bring all his wrongdoing into the public eye. When I confided these revelations to my sisters, Tabitha grew angry enough to make a spectacle of it all. Her greatest mistake occurred when she accused each member of the coven outright, of dealing in sorcery and witchcraft. These were very serious charges, mind you, in my day and age. Such charges were punishable by death.

"For her trouble, Tabitha earned a flogging for herself. Her father believed Solomon Cabot to be a man who was pure and without sin. He personally tied Tabitha to the post that once stood before the church. Before the eyes of the entire town, she was punished for her words. Tabitha was only sixteen years of age, yet the flogging she received was fit for a man. It left her crippled. For the remainder of her life, she could no longer walk upright as the rest of us do."

Matt was reminded of what a cruel bitch life could be. Some of his personal hardships seemed to dwindle in comparison.

By this time, they had left the town and were now traversing through the woods.

"As unjust as Tabitha's fate became," Emelina went on. "That was not the worst of it. She had dared to expose the coven. For this Solomon and the rest sought to put us all to death. They sought to kill us quickly and to bind our souls to the Purgatory of the Bible. They would have succeeded had it not been for the actions of Pan."

Matt had been expecting her to go on, but when she didn't he glanced over at her. Emelina's countenance was full of anxiety and fear. Her eyes were raised up toward the sky. Matt followed her gaze. On the top branches of the highest trees, perched numerous watchful crows. Several of these birds flew off at their approach, heading in the direction of Margo's house.

Nervously, Matt asked," You did say they couldn't harm us here, right?"

"You do not understand." She replied. "These crows have been cursed, ever since the time my sisters and I walked on your world. These birds are able to pierce through the dimensions. They would not be watching us so unless they were up to some deviltry back in your reality."

"Like what?"

"They must be after your body." Emelina gasped, before she quickened her pace. "Run, Mathew, run!"

They raced through the trees, observing more and more crows in their path. The evil birds were sitting on the branches or pacing about on the ground like sentries. Many of them fluttered into the air as the two of them ran through the black crowd.

Matt saw Emelina come to a halt, before he followed suit and turned to face her.

"I will not be able to help you, Mathew." She said. "You must reach your body and you must will yourself back into your world! Remember, if you are strong here you will be strong there as well. You must go!"

The urgent tone on Emelina's voice prompted Matt to get moving again. His legs were an athlete's legs, he told himself. Matt increased his stride and leapt over anything he didn't feel like slowing down for.

"I will come to you in the night!" He heard Emelina call out, her voice sounding far distant now.

Matt reached Margo's backyard, scattering dozens of crows. He scanned past the clothesline and the barbecue, over to the house's back wall. Matt's heart nearly froze, when he discovered that the window to the second bedroom had been shattered open. Back in the real world, the crowns must be ripping his body into shreds as they'd tried to do to Emelina earlier.

He was running in a blind panic now, crashing into the edge of the back door and invading an empty kitchen. Like a hare, the frantic man bounded around the living room and into the short hallway leading to the bedrooms. The door to the second bedroom slammed into the wall as he burst through it, setting off a mad rush of black wings.

Half crazed, Matt howled, "There's no place like home!"

Reality slapped him across the face with the sounds of a carnival of caws and the harsh beating of a hundred wings. There was nothing to be seen, however, as a warm darkness covered Matt's face like a comfortable blanket. Once he tried to move his arms and legs, he realized this same blanket was covering his entire body.

In his mind, Matt recalled how the battered body of Emelina had been enveloped by what looked to be a repulsive covering of pink flesh. At once, he realized that the blanket of flesh was Pan, and that Pan was covering Matt's body to protect him from the onslaught of the crows. A god of the ancient Greeks was sacrificing himself for a broken down valet.

No, Matt thought, not broken down. Matt had been strong enough to ward off an army of crows with only a small shovel, in order to rescue Emelina. Now, Matt felt strong enough to battle this army once again, if only he could find a weapon to wield in his grip.

"Let me out!" He shouted at Pan.

Not even five seconds later, the thick layer of pink flesh began to seep away. Right after this, Matt found himself fending against the murder of crows. He lashed out with his arms and legs, suffering through dozens of bites and lacerations. He lunged away from the threats and ran toward the open door of the second bedroom. Matt cried out, more in anger and shock than in pain, when he reached out for the doorknob and felt a black beak stab into the back of his hand. Black claws rake across his wrist. Matt jumped out of the room and slammed the door shut to keep any more crows from coming into the hallway.

It was an unnerving sight to see the thick puddle that was Pan, seeping across the floor and joining him in the hallway. Pan was the size of a beanbag chair, Matt compared, becoming startled when a set of wings and claws suddenly came tearing toward his face. He slapped out at the offending creature, propelling it violently against the wall. Next, he retreated into the living room to look for a weapon.

Margo's household had remained intact while the police were conducting their missing person's investigation. Not even her next of kin had been allowed to remove any of her property yet. As a result, when Matt heard a rush of wings coming at the back of his head, he was able to reach out and grab hold of the nearest object to defend with. Unfortunately, that weapon turned out to be a fuzzy blue cushion with the outline of an electric purple butterfly on it.

Like a gladiator, Matt lunged back into the hallway, swatting and beating at the handful of crows that were still pestering Pan. Two he swatted into the wall, stunning them and forcing them to flee further away to recover. The third he bashed down onto the carpet, and the last two... Where the hell were the last two?

Matt looked down at the cruelly pockmarked form of Pan. With an overwhelming and instant disgust, he watched as a long, meaty tendril stretched out of Pan's blob. This tentacle of flesh started out slow, then shot away like a lizard's tongue. The tentacle slapped against the grounded crow that had been trying to gather its bearings, stuck fast to it, and just as quickly jerked the bird back into its mass. In a blur, the startled crow was being folded over by an oozing swell of meat. The caught bird managed to utter one last frightened caw before the blob began to suffocate it and crush it within its folds. Further, Matt discovered where the two missing crows were. The tips of their wings and one set of claws were sticking out of the grotesque mass of pink flesh.

Pan was the universe, Matt connected in his mind, and the universe was Pan. The way Pan added souls to his dimension was by consuming their material bodies first. After imagining that he was the god's next meal, Matt took a mortified step back. A moment after this Matt's growing panic propelled him toward the front door. Gone were any worries of being attacked by the army of crows still boiling in the house and backyard, or of being seen fleeing from the house by any neighbors across the street.

Matt ran outside, barely noticing that the sun was only beginning to rise. His body was fatigued in no way whatsoever, even though he assumed he'd stayed up the entire night while he'd been in Pan's world.

After running all the way to John's house, Matt jumped into the back of his truck to retrieve his keys, before he hurried into the driver's seat. Within seconds, he backed out of the driveway and was tearing down the street.

Only the sight of blood dripping from the back of one hand prompted Matt into pulling into a gas station. Along with buying overpriced bandages and band-aids, and knowing it would make a good dent in his already paltry budget, he went ahead and filled up his gas tank. He also stocked up on some cheap edibles.

Once that was done, Matt got the hell out of town.

He did not come back until eight o'clock that night.

Matt sat there for a few moments, his truck idling in the street and his eyes taking in the serenity of John's front yard. He sighed, before he gently eased down on the accelerator and allowed his vehicle to slowly roll forward. A minor shock greeted him, on the curb in front of Margo's house. This was the form of Donald, sitting there in a light jacket and wearing tan slacks.

Cheerily, Donald waved and stood up. A second later the man was headed for the passenger door of the truck. Matt hesitated for a bit, before he reached over and pushed the door open.

"Good thing Margo kept all of my clothes, huh?" Donald joked. "Otherwise I'd be out here greeting you in the buff."

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Matt asked.

"I am dead in this place." Donald leaned into the doorway and grinned. "Pan lets us come back, though, but he can only give birth to us one at a time. We always have to go back, because of our commitment to him."

"What commitment?"

"This is what I'm here to talk to you about." Donald replied, as he hauled his lanky frame onto the seat. "You wouldn't mind treating me to a burger, would you? That's one of the few things I miss from this world: a fat burger, lots of fries and lots of ketchup."

"As long as you can keep it under ten bucks, yeah, sure." Matt answered, before he nervously glanced over at the other man. "Hey, listen, Donald. I've been worrying about this all day. Are you mad at me because I slept with Margo?"

"I won't be if you buy me a hamburger." Donald laughed. "Now, in this world, I would have loved to have a woman like Margo all to myself. The thing is, the rules are entirely different in Pan's world. It's a free society in the broadest sense. Nobody is allowed to tie anybody else down, or to impose their will on anybody else. I do love Margo, believe you me, but what reasonable man would pass up the chance of having a few rumbles with Emmie and her girls? Like Pan says, if a man was supposed to have only one mate, his cock wouldn't stand up for anybody else."

Matt thought this over as he set his truck into drive. "Well, you're getting a hamburger deluxe with all the trimmings, because I do not like the idea of crossing another man's threshold, if you know what I mean."

"Margo's a dead woman, anyway." Donald reminded him. "So it's not like your crossing any boundaries among the living here."

Matt glanced over, seeing the wide grin on his passenger's face. "You're a morbid kind of guy, aren't you?"

"I was a bit of an outcast." Donald admitted. "The same as you are now. But that's not what I was trying to get across to you. What I meant was that you're going by all the old parameters. You're not seeing that those parameters aren't there any more. They've been wiped away so you only have a blank slate left. When you had sex with Margo, you didn't have sex with a physical woman. You had sex with her spirit, or her soul."

"How can that be? I'm not dead! I'm a living, breathing person, and I was screwing around with another living, breathing person!"

"What if I were to tell you that your sense of perception is a lie?" Donald asked. "It's just like I said, all the old parameters are no longer there. You are about to be given the chance to reshape the world with just your imagination."

"Is that even possible?"

"Pan's doing it, isn't he?" Donald reminded him. "And Pan first started out as a figment of somebody's imagination. Look I'll tell you everything I know, but I really have to get something in my stomach. I've been waiting here for you since about noon and I'm starving right now. You got any good burger joints in mind?"

"Yeah, I know one." Matt nodded, right before he began navigating a new course.

Twenty minutes later, the two men were still sitting in the truck. The vehicle was parked in the empty corner of a fast food joint's parking lot. At Donald's request, Matt had stationed his truck facing the fairly busy street, so they could both watch the cars passing by.

"I never thought I'd miss traffic, but I do." Donald mused, before he stuffed another pair of fries into his gaping mouth. "Can you imagine living in a time when all you have to do is wait for your crops to grow?"

Matt had not spoken much as he ate, because he could barely comprehend all of the new ideas he was being bombarded with. Finally, he cleared his throat. "So, what's going on again between Pan and Solomon Cabot, and all these fucking crows that keep coming out of nowhere?"

Donald finished munching up his fries before he answered. "Emmie had you up to, what, the part where Tabitha publicly denounced Cabot and the others? Okay, so imagine that scene: Tabitha just accused six of the most prominent members in town of deviltry. This brought a lot of unwanted attention toward Cabot's coven. The coven wasn't satisfied with Tabitha's flogging. No, not this bunch. They weren't going to settle for anything less than the heads of Emmie and the rest of the girls on a long plank. Privately they chastised Cabot, but publicly the coven went on a witch-hunt.

"It wasn't hard to turn the tables on six young girls and to accuse them of conspiring with the Devil. According to Emmie, everybody was doing some kind of witchcraft back then. If insects molested the crops, or a certain cow wasn't producing enough milk, a spell was cast. If a farmer wanted a baby boy who would eventually grow up and help toil the field, or a woman was fond enough of a man, a spell would be cast. The people of that time looked for fortune and answers in everything: in the stars, in the clouds, in boiled leaves, in bones marked up like dice, and in a primitive form of Tarot cards. When Cabot's little group of conspirators raised their arms and pointed at the six girls, a lot of old rivalries and resentments were stirred up. I'm sure you understand what I mean when I say that mob mentality took over."

"That is so much bullshit!" Matt snapped. "Emelina and her friends didn't have a chance against the coven, did they?"

"They were condemned by the court of public opinion. All six of them were sentenced by Cabot to burn at the stake." Donald divulged. "The town of Burch didn't even have a jailhouse in those days, so the girls were rounded up and taken to the church and kept there."

Donald paused to take a long slurp from his milkshake. Matt found this bizarre, because Donald now lived in a dimension when milkshakes wouldn't exist for what, at least two hundred more years? Maybe they'd never exist, he realized, considering how few people were living in Pan's universe to invent things.

The lanky man noticed the attention being given to him by the driver. "Good stuff, eh? Anyway, the girls were all corralled into the church. Guess which asshole was there to offer them forgiveness? Guess who told them the whole, bad situation would go away, if only all six of them would open up their legs for him?"

Through angry, gritted teeth, Matt said, "Cabot."

"Of course, the girls didn't trust him." Donald sighed. "But what choice did they have? Their lives would soon be at stake, literally. Emelina had always been the group's mouthpiece, just as she still is now. She tried to make a deal with Cabot. Emmie would let him have his way with her, and then he would see to the release of all six. Once all six were free, the rest of the girls would also sleep with Cabot. Emmie slept with him first, right there in the church one night. It was only a couple of days later that they all discovered that Cabot had tricked them."

"You know, I would love to get my hands on that guy." Matt growled.

"You might get that chance." Donald replied. "Cabot tried to force himself on some of the other girls, too, but they would all raise such a clamor that other people from town would come in and see what all the yelling was about. Cabot would beat the girls in trying to get them all to shut up. He would tell the townsfolk that he was trying to beat the Devil out of them."

"And I bet they believed all that." Matt shook his head.

"That was the way people thought back then." Donald confirmed. "I guess Tabitha's father was an ill-tempered and violent sort. When he got wind of that, he would come in and try to beat the Devil out of his daughter all on his own. I guess it wasn't bad enough that he'd curved Tabitha's spine from the earlier flogging he'd given her."

"Some people should have never been born." Matt muttered.

"That's not the worst of it." Donald glanced over, grimly. "Cabot knew that Emmie was the ringleader. The whole town knew this. He especially tormented Emmie when trying to get the rest of the girls in line. When he couldn't break her, he went outside and found himself a good, sturdy branch. He used that branch to tear apart her insides. He made the other girls watch while he did this."

"Fucking asshole..."

"Well, Mattie, what are you willing to do to rectify this situation?" Donald asked.

Matt looked him uncertainly. "What are you talking about?"

Instead of replying, Donald took a few moments to finish off his burger. When he'd gulped down the last of that he continued. "Six were taken and six must be given. In this way will the balance be restored and so much more, so much more."