Insidious Prophecy Read online

II: A Lost Traveller

  The mists surrounded Tom, trying to suffocate the life out of his body. He tried to breathe, but desperately could not. He grasped at his throat, breathing difficultly, hoping that this, in sure madness, could save him. However, it only made it worse.

  Trees surrounded him in a myriad of ghastly shapes as if they were permeated with an ancient evil. Their limbs seemed to reach out to Tom, inviting him in to their side - the side of forgiveness, relief, and death. He looked around trying to find his way back to the place he had come from, a place of safety, but he could not. He only found himself coming deeper and deeper into the mists, and farther and farther away from life.

  In the mist’s water droplets he could see the eyes of the small organisms within magnified by so many times that just their eyes could be ascertained when the droplets were viewed. Tom stared in partial horror and intrigue as the droplets would intermittently flutter between black and dark green. At times he could not see the droplets against the darkness of the night, but then just as easily it would be revealed to him in a beautiful display of color.

  Under the strain of humid fatigue he fell to the ground. Suddenly he was against the forest floor that was littered with dark green, luscious grass. Contrary to his conscience’s views on this ground he felt calm, serine, and assured. It seemed like a dream as his dark brown hair fell onto the soggy ground. His five foot eleven inch figure lay like spilt milk upon the grass. Above him he saw the mists moving and multiplying. He could discern several shapes and animals in its hue. Was this heaven or was it a dream? Perhaps it was his doom, the bitter end to his comfortable life?

  Tom was just seventeen years old - too old to be called a child, but too young to die. He thought of his mother, June, and father, Andrew Reed. How would they react to his death? Before his very eyes he envisioned the scene of the realization of his death. It was entirely white this place where his mother and father sat together on a white sofa. A police officer sat before June and Andrew relating to them the details. On a side altar he saw there lay a coffin. Walking over Tom could see it was him - his body was blue and bloated as if he had drowned. Tom shivered and turned away his head in horror. He looked back to his parents to see them both crying profusely.

  “I am sorry, Mr. And Mrs. Reed, but your son Tom is dead,” said the police officer.

  “Tom, little Tom is dead?” asked Andrew in a shocked state. “Not the boy, oh, not the boy.”

  “He was just seventeen,” said June as tears gleamed in and fell down from her eyes. Her relaxed brown curls even seemed to sag at the realization of Tom’s death. “My darling boy. We have loved him so dearly. Raised him with such hopes in our hearts and how he would benefit society as a whole. Now he is gone with a second of time, lost to us forever. He was nobody, but at the same time could have been a great somebody. He never cared for vanity, envy, pride or greed, but he was not flawless. Mischievous in nature like most boys of his age, Tom was at least compromised by his logical intuitions.”

  “Yes he was, but he never went overboard, right June?” asked Andrew.

  “Yes, Andrew, exactly. How can it be, our beloved son, our only child, could be gone to us forever. We did not even have a chance to say goodbye, kiss him good night, or even see him graduate. All of that schooling for nothing. All of those precious memories for what - to be cascaded into the wind? Oh, why must the heart be such a fool as to think that time will go on forever, and things shall remain fixed?”

  “It will be fixed June,” said Andrew, “we still have the memory of our boy to remember him by. Do not remember him as this cold, soggy state, but as a once thriving young lad of seventeen who had his heart filled with gaiety and joy, jovial until his bitter end. Yes, but it was an end that he did not know would exist as such, for that is the will of God, time, and fate.” Remembering what he was talking about, Andrew asked of the police officer, “What happened to the poor lad?”

  “He was suffocated and driven mad by those mists,” said the policeman. “He tried to escape, trying to get back home to you, but, stupid boy, he went the wrong way. If anyone knows you must follow the stars, poor fellow.”

  Both June and Andrew shook their heads. “Of course,” said June, “that was Tom.”

  “I knew I should have given him a compass for his birthday a month ago, but I thought it would be better to give him that infernal book instead. I knew it June I knew it. Next time you should listen to what I say, it could have saved the boy.”

  “I’m sorry Andrew,” said June, “it will not happen again.”

  “I guess that will be the end of his gallivanting into the night with Peter,” said the policeman.

  “Yes, it is,” said Kate Wilson, 14, as she and her family consisting of her older brother Peter, 17, her mother, Mrs. Wilson, 41, and her father, Sergeant Wilson, 65, entered. Kate was the extremely annoying sister of Peter, Tom’s best friend and neighbor. Tom did not like Kate at all, since she always tried to destroy the friendship between Tom and Peter, and to get Peter into trouble for things that he either never did or never even knew existed. She was envious of the relationship between Tom and Peter, trying at every moment to destroy it and to hurt Peter as much as possible. However, due to the Sergeant’s lack of mental capacity, Mrs. Wilson was the only one capable of taking charge. When Mrs. Wilson did take charge she always sided with Kate because Kate was the only girl. Thus, in an effort to make Kate feel accepted Mrs. Wilson had created an egotistical and cunning monster.

  “It took some time,” said Mrs. Wilson. She was a slightly heavy woman due to age and childbearing. “That boy was a menace to society, his death only took too long to occur. Look how freakish Peter has become in all of this time. If only you died sooner Tom Reed, and I would not have had such trouble with this boy while you were alive. At least now I have the ability to control every facet of your life, is that right Peter?”

  Peter looked sullen and grave. Ever since he was old enough to crawl Tom had always found good company with Peter. Their friendship had been long and inseparable. Even when Peter’s parents moved to Sudbury, New York ten years ago for financial reasons, Tom’s family also moved. This showed the bond between the two families precipitated only by the friendships of Mrs. Reed with Mrs. Wilson, who went to middle and high school together along with Andrew, and that of Tom with Peter.

  “Tom,” said Peter, “how could you do it? I told you not to gallivant, at least not without me. If you had taken me at least we would have had that adventure together.”

  “Foolish boy,” said Mrs. Wilson. To her husband, Sergeant Wilson, she asked, “What do you have to say, father?”

  “What do I have to say?” asked Sergeant Wilson. “Only whom the devil are you talking about?”

  “Father,” said Kate, “over there is the body of Tom Reed.”

  “Tom Reed, who the devil is Tom Reed?”

  “Your godson,” said Mrs. Wilson.

  “I have a godson, well I’ll be. I have been busy these last couple of years, I did not know I was that busy.”

  “Father, he died last night in the mists,” said Kate with a smile.

  “The mists! Take cover! They are in the mists, run for your lives!” exclaimed Sergeant Wilson as he ran out. Mrs. Wilson and Kate hurried behind him.

  Peter stayed as he looked at Tom. “Tom, how could you, now I have to face Kate the beast all alone. You know I am not as quick witted as you when it comes to making fun of her.”

  “Peter, it is all right,” said Mrs. Reed. “Tom is in a better place right now, a place where no one can harm him, a place of great peace.”

  “I just wish he had told me where he was going,” said Mr. Reed. “If he had taken his raincoat none of this would have ever happened.”

  “To think,” said Peter, “he lived his greatest adventure without me - trying to combat the mists.”

  “You mean the greatest bout of lunacy ever depicted upon the face of this ea
rth. And I thought the Charge of the Light Brigade was crazy enough,” said Andrew.

  “It took courage though darling,” said June.

  “Courage, June, have you lost your mind? Perhaps you just need to imagine it. The twenty-fifth of October 1854 during the Crimean War, six hundred sixty-one British troops on horses against thousands of Russian forces with cannons and in cover, and you call that courage? It was more like suicide, resulting in only one hundred ninety-five returning, perhaps only because suicide seemed like it could wait for at least a few more days. Bravery that will be the day.”

  “Well, I must be going off now,” said the policeman, “more business to attend to, never an end to my business, unfortunately. Just as many of these poor soles like your son, driven mad by those mists….”

  Suddenly the scene faded away and the mists with their swirling droplets of water were the only things in view before Tom’s eyes. Yes, those comprising the closest parts of his life would be very varied in opinion over him. These thoughts rambled through Tom’s mind as he lay, causing his blue eyes to be able to be seen through the mists by those even twenty yards away. This always happened when he was thinking, thinking of things yet to come.

  Then, a bright beam of light appeared causing the mists to howl and disperse away from Tom. The light became was so bright that Tom had to look away towards the greenish ground and cover his eyes with his hands. In a second, though, the bright light moved in a cylindrical pattern around his body with its top black from the twig-like tree branches and night sky with the lighted moon, only visible now. The pattern grew bigger by the second, causing the water droplets suspended into the air to fall onto the ground creating dew upon the grass. Thousands of small organisms were released from their bondage, scurrying into any tree in visible sight. Even though each of them was too small to be seen by the human eye, they were huddled in such masses that they could be ascertained. Some crawled over Tom’s pants in lighting speed as if they had not been there at all despite the water they left behind. However, the light around Tom soon dried his pants of the water.

  Removing his hands from his face, Tom could see that the light had dimmed. Tom looked up and saw a man of about thirty years old standing erect upon the grass four feet away from his feet looking down upon him. The man had an auburn mustache, chestnut hair, blue eyes and a haggard face. He was wearing a tan and white striped suit, tan shoes, a white shirt, and a tan tie. He was only five foot six inches in height, but he seemed to have a smile on his face when he looked at Tom.

  “Hello,” said the man in a rhetorical voice. “You may not know me, but I know about you, Tom. You see I used to be like you. You may think I am just a dream, but in time…” said the man as he turned around. When he turned back to view Tom he was entirely covered in a dark cloak and all that was viewed from the man’s face were two red eyes surrounded by blackness under his cloak, as the man said in a devious voice, “YOU SHALL KNOW BETTER!”

  Suddenly, Tom felt the grass becoming woolly underneath his body. Looking down, he saw that the grass had turned into brown fur and hands began to form, which grabbed onto Tom. He tried to move, kick them away, but he couldn’t. Instead, with each movement of his body they squeezed harder and harder. He could feel his bones breaking and screamed.

  “You thought I was a dream, seems like your intuitions were wrong!” said the man following a screeching laugh. Soon six other such creatures in black cloaks with red eyes came, with the same screeching laugh. Suddenly, one was holding onto Tom, shaking him with its arms around Tom’s arms, as if trying to wake him. “Nothing shall keep away my wrath upon you, Tom,” said the man, “you shall never succeed, for you will be MINE!”

  Suddenly one of the creatures poured water upon Tom’s face, causing Tom to close his eyes. Upon opening them all he could see was the same bright light from before, causing him to cover his eyes with his right arm. After a few moments he tried to see again to see before him were his mother and father in their pajamas, terrified by the howls and screams made by him as he was dreaming. He seemed dazed at what was before him. His mother then held him in her arms and began to cry upon his shoulder. Her golden locks of hair cascaded down Tom’s shoulder. His father, Andrew, gave Tom a towel and then sat down at the end of Tom’s bed, looking out of his window, still amazed at what had occurred. He looked with his blue eyes searching around for the evil that was in Tom’s mind, but he could not discern it as if it was a form that none of his senses could sense. His short dark brown hair clung to his head, wet from perspiration at trying to awaken Tom from his nightmare. He was quite tall, five foot 8 inches in height, and also thin. His face looked troubled over something other than Tom’s condition, though Tom’s condition also showed fears upon his face that could only be truly sensed by those who knew him very well. A cold man when he needed to be, a warm man when he wanted to be, Andrew was like most others with their changes in temperaments, but unlike others Andrew could control them to perfection when he needed them most, a trait he learned long ago, and as is always said that old habits usually never go away.

  Tom’s mother, June, kissed him on the cheek and took the towel, drying his face. After this, she placed the towel down and fell to crying and hugging Tom again. June was a very loving person, but also hard when she needed to be. Tom was her only child, and even though it does not really mean anything whether or not one has two or fifteen children, having one usually makes the parents more concerned for that one. Their care and time is more, making one either extremely selfish, extremely loved, or both in an odd mixture that children with siblings never have. Even though children who are born alone tend to be more independent, due to not having others around, that does not mean that they never have happiness, it just means that they tend to grow up at an earlier age. June, seeing this in other children with no siblings, was very astonished and concerned. She did not want Tom to end up living life feeling unloved or alone in the world. She took it upon herself to find him friends at an early age, with the most playful of companionships coming from her best friend’s, Margaret Wilson’s, son Peter. From an early age Tom and Peter were inseparable despite Peter being older than Tom by over a year. Yes, June fought for her son to not be left behind, and he was not as he entered school at the age of four alongside Peter, his educational readiness before him and friendship beside. Strangely enough, since childhood, Peter and Tom were always friends, and nothing had been able to separate that friendship that was the closest perhaps in the entire city of Sudbury and only due to June’s concern for her only son had it even been made. It shows that mothers are, when they are a great part of their children’s lives, perhaps the best negotiators and instigators the world has ever seen, when they want it to occur.

  After the shock of what had happened had passed, June lifted her head from Tom’s shoulder and dried her tears with a tissue. Andrew felt that now would be a fit time to speak, “Tom, are you…um…all right, son?”

  Pondering on what would be best to say in a second’s time, Tom said, “Yes, Dad, I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.”

  “I know Tom, but this has been happening for two months now, ever since your birthday. I just do not know the origin of these dreams or why they keep reoccurring, terrorizing your mind. At first they seemed harmless, those mists you were talking about. Many people dream about mists and dream vividly, so it seemed natural that it should affect you. But this is the worst one yet and its on the very morning of your first day of school. Your mother and I were shaking you with all of our might to wake you, but you wouldn’t budge - you just screamed louder. We had to throw water from out of the rose vase in the hall just to awaken you. If we hadn’t done that, I do not know what we could have done….”

  Andrew then stood next to the window, trying to maintain his composure. June looked at Andrew, feeling as he felt about the incident. She looked at Tom, trying to smile but only producing a minimal effect and only for a short while until
her face became sedate.

  “What do you think we should do, Tom?” asked June in a sedate tone as she sat next to Tom on his bed.

  Tom sat speechless. If what they said was true, then indeed his dreams were becoming too real.

  “Tom,” said Andrew, “I have heard before of people with disturbing dreams. They usually obtain help by telling their dreams to a psychologist. I know it sounds like a lost cause, but I went to one before when I was around your age. It might help in your case, if you are willing to give it a try?”

  Knowing that any help was better than none at all, Tom said, “Yes, I am willing, Dad.”

  “Then it is settled,” said Andrew as he walked towards Tom’s bed. “I shall call a doctor friend of mine to help me schedule an appointment this afternoon after your school time, all right?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Then the only thing that is left to do is for you to get ready for school, and for your mother and I to get ready for work.” With that, June stood up from the bed.

  “Are you all right, Tom?” asked June.

  “Yes, Mom, I am.”

  “All right, that is enough for me. Get ready for school.”

  “Yes, Mom,” said Tom.

  After June left, and as Andrew reached the door, he told Tom, “Remember, if you need anything-just call for us.”

  “I will, Dad.”

  “All right, get ready.”

  Tom immediately stripped the wet sheets from off of his bed. After this, he took the sheets and some clothes and went to the bathroom, which was right next door to his room between his room and his parents’ room. It was not very small, with a shower/bathtub, toilet, sink, mirror with items behind the mirror on shelves, a hamper, and white tiles upon its walls and brown wooden floor. He placed the sheets into the clothes hamper,. He put into the sink a plug and then poured out some warm water into it, proceeding afterwards to wash his face. However, when he was done and about to pull out the plug to let the water drain away, in the water’s reflection he did not see his own face, but that of the man in the black cloak and red eyes, as if Tom himself were that man. Without a moment’s thought, he unplugged the water plug by lifting up its chain, causing the water to disappear down the pipes and sewers that hardly anyone ever sees or thinks about. Slightly concerned, but still courageous enough to go along all right, Tom dried his face, wondering what exactly that reflection meant.