Chapter 2 – Chap 2

I wake to the sound of seagulls outside my room. I’ve always loved the sound of their gentle caw, but this morning they offer me no comfort. No solace. The memory of what happened last night at the party is still fresh in my mind. That woman; Nan. How did she do that? Make my chair… do that? It must have been some sort of ruse. A party trick; a game the locals like to play on visitors to the island.

Rationalization steers my mind down the appropriate paths, but then I think back to what she said as I ran out the door- about the pills. How could she possibly know something like that? I’m aware I may not be the most chipper person to ever walk the face of the Earth. I’m aware I’m depressed. But I hide it well. My therapist certainly bought it these past few years. What Nan saw, what she said: it doesn’t make any fucking sense.

I try to compartmentalize. I take a shower, get dressed, and head downstairs for something to eat at the pub. I hit the bottom of the stairs and round the corner. I’m immediately greeted by a familiar face;

ERIC: Hey. Good morning… how did you sleep?

He looks like a puppy trying to approach its owner after tearing apart the living room. He looks remorseful.

HARITA: Not well.

I offer him nothing. We stand in silence until he finally breaks.

ERIC: I wanted to apologize for last night. My Aunt- her…“thing-” It’s just kind of always been something I was used to. Everyone in Aleister knows about it. It’s sort of commonplace for us.

HARITA: Bullshit.

ERIC: What?

HARITA: It was wires. It was effects. It was a sound system. Whatever it was- it wasn’t real.

ERIC: Harita; you felt it. Shit, I felt it! Everyone did… I’ve seen Nan do things. Unexplainable things. But last night was different. It was special.

He’s almost salivates at the memory.

HARITA: It didn’t feel very special to me. The opposite in fact.

ERIC: She wants to see you.

HARITA: No.

I walk past him and head to the pub doors. He excitedly grabs my arm. I shoot him a scowl and he realizes he crossed a line. He gently releases it, composes himself, and in a softer, milder tone he says-

ERIC: She wants to apologize. She says she can still help you find some answers.

HARITA: And all I have to do is what? Be terrorized again? Defy gravity one more time for her sick pleasure? No thanks. I prefer the ground.

ERIC: Harita please-

HARITA: Leave me alone Eric.

The message finally sinks in and begins to walk away. He turns back.

ERIC: Who’s Georgie?

My blood goes cold.

HARITA: What?

ERIC: She wanted me to tell you that it was Georgie who spoke through her last night.

I get mad. What the hell are these people playing at? How could she possibly know his name? I have no social media. The funeral was years ago. He deserves to rest in peace. My son’s memory won’t be used in some twisted scheme to con me. My blood turns hot; boiling. I push past Eric and ram out the door. He calls after me-

ERIC: Where are you going?

HARITA: To see your Aunt.

—

I march up to the house and pound on the door. Eric is hot on my tail. He tried to offer me a ride, but my anger fueled my calves the whole way up. I’m not even tired. All I want is to look this woman in the eye, tell her to screw off, and get on with my search. She answers-

NAN: Harita.

An exasperated Eric finally catches up.

ERIC: I’m sorry, Nan. I tried to-

NAN: It’s fine. Go inside. Let Harita and I talk for moment, will you?

Eric gives me a weak smile and heads inside. Nan shuffles and tries to appease my visible contempt.

NAN: I just made breakfast. I have plenty if you would like to join-

HARITA: Look, I’m going to make this quick; You’re playing at something. I don’t know what it is and frankly I don’t really care. I came here to finish a task and I don’t need you making it harder for me with your smoke and mirrors nonsense.

NAN: Harita it was never my intention to-

HARITA: Keep my son’s name out of your mouth!

I begin to go.

NAN: He looks like you. It’s often hard to get a picture. Sometimes what comes through- it’s sort of how your reflection looks in a mirror after a hot shower- but I saw him. Clear as day. He was so adorable.

I clench my fists. I want to hit the woman. Hard.

HARITA: I swear to God, if you don’t shut up right now-

NAN: I am not playing at anything Harita!

Nan thinks for a moment. She reaches into her blouse and pulls out a small locket. She opens it and shows me a picture of a young boy.

NAN: This is my Darwin. He was everything to me. His spirit was so- vibrant. So strong… his body though, it just never matched it.

She goes silent and gets lost in a memory for a moment. I now realize that it’s my turn to take someone in; to silently judge them and search for something unseeable. Is her pain real? Earnest? Not some fabricated plot to gain my trust back. I notice Nan’s chest. The pattern and cadence of her breathing. I know that rhythm. I’ve felt it in my body night after sleepless night. I feel it now. It’s the rhythm of sorrow. Of loss. Of a mother who yearns for the past. I relent-

HARITA: How long ago was it?

NAN: A lifetime. I thought my whole world had ended. And it did. Life as I knew it was over… Until it wasn’t anymore.

HARITA: What changed?

NAN: I gained a new purpose. My sister passed in childbirth not long after and I took in Eric. I was able to see daylight again. I was able to care for something. You and me; we share that same need I feel.

She’s right. The absolute worst part about the last few years has been how little I have been needed. When an entity leans on you for everything, both big and small, from soothing an aching belly and reading bedtime stories to cutting the crusts off sandwiches or checking for monsters under the bed, a purpose is formed inside you. And eventually it evolves into a need. A need to love. A need to care.

I still hate the woman standing before me, but at the same time I feel like she’s the only person in the entire world who understands me. She goes to the door-

NAN: Join us. Please…

She gestures inside. I try to fight it. To let my anger drag me back to The Wilhelm. To stay on course, and shrug off all unnecessary roadside attractions, but this is one stop, for some reason, that I must make again. I go inside.

—

I devour my plate in the blink of an eye and promptly go back for seconds. Nan smiles. She’s glad that I’m enjoying her cooking. Despite being a possible con artist, Nan is one hundred percent an incredible cook.

After we finish Eric clears the table and Nan excuses herself. I can peer into the living room from where I’m seated. I can see the tiny Door to Nowhere that piqued my interest the night prior. Where do you lead to little door? Or perhaps rather- what leads to you?

Nan reenters the room with an item in each hand. In her right is a small pink crystal on a silver chain. In her left is a scroll. She unfurls it and lays it across the table. I lean in to examine it and realize that it’s a topographical map of the island. She smirks my way.

NAN: No surprises this time.

Her promise is only mildly comforting. Eric returns and chuckles.

ERIC: The old scry huh?

HARITA: What are you going to do with all this?

NAN: Nothing. We’re just going to see which way the Universe points.

I study the map with trepidation as Nan wraps the chain around her hand.

NAN: Tam? Correct? Do you happen to still have the photo you showed me?

I recover it from my pocket.

NAN: On the map please. Right in the corner.

I place it down. Nan runs a finger over the photo.

NAN: Handsome.

She raises the crystal above the map and begins to let it swirl it in a circular motion. She offers me her hand and assures me-

NAN: It’s OK.

I take her hand in mine. Her palm is cool and smooth, just like her voice. Eric stands to the side and studies the act intensely.

NAN: I want you to think about his face. The way he carried himself. His strut. The weight of his body against yours in bed. The texture and smell of his hair. Picture his whole being. Now place it; here. On this island. Where do you see him?

I try to do as she says. I begin to feel my nerves vibrate again. I get nervous.

HARITA: I can’t.

She gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

NAN: You can. Just breathe…

I nod. I look down to the photo on the map. Tam: you are so handsome. More than that. You’re beautiful. You’re dark. You played rugby at school. You modeled for a bit after college. All my friends we’re so jealous when you came up to me at that pub. All my friends wanted you. But you wanted me. There was the whole world, and you pushed it aside and asked me my name.

The crystal picks up speed. It creates a mini cyclone of air. It creates a force; a pull. I hear the Lullaby again. My ears ring. I keep trying to picture your face. Your rugged, handsome, perfect face. Where are you Tam? Where the hell are you!

The crystal is yanked to a point on the map. Nan is pleased.

NAN: Good job.

Eric removes the crystal and looks at the marked location.

ERIC: The scrapyard. Moe’s place.

HARITA: So that’s where Eric is? He’s there?

NAN: Not necessarily. This isn’t GPS. You sent a call into the chasm. It’s reverberating here.

ERIC: It’s not too far. Just a mile or two down the road. Shall we?

I nod and thank Nan for breakfast. She walks us to the door.

NAN: I hope you forgive me. Journey’s can be difficult, but it’s imperative that we take them.

She kisses my hand and apologizes again for spooking me the night prior. I leave feeling lighter, less angry. I am lost beyond belief. The idea of putting my faith in a magical stone is comical to me, but all I can do at the moment is follow Eric’s lead. Hopefully, it’s to somewhere I can get some more definite answers.

—

We approach a small scrapyard in the middle of the woods. Eric goes to knock on the door of the house at its center. I take a look around.

Rusted boat parts and mangled chrome appendages create a metallic wall that encompasses the entirety of the property. The damage to everything though, is immense. So much so that I’m not so sure this place can even be called a “scrapyard.” Isn’t scrap technically supposed to be useful? Salvageable? Everything in sight just seems broken beyond repair. It’s not a good omen to me. I hear a gun click.

MAN’S VOICE: Who the hell are you?

I throw my hands up and slowly turn to face the stalwart voice holding me at gun point. An objectively obese man points a shotgun right at my face. He’s not just large though, he’s tall; easily six and half feet. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a large human being in person before. Who knew there could be such a colossal mountain on this tiny, island?

Eric shouts from the porch-

ERIC: Woah, woah! Little Moe, easy! She’s with me.

Eric runs up and the mountain squints at him, trying to see if the voice is telling the truth.

LITTLE MOE: That you Weldon?

ERIC: Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Why don’t we lower that gun, huh?

He gives me a once over and asses that I’m not a threat.

LITTLE MOE: My apologies. Don’t get a ton of visitors, except Mr. Weldon here.

HARITA: It’s fine.

ERIC: Where are your glasses?

LITTLE MOE: They’ll turn up. Everything on Aleister always does. What are yinz doing out here? The boat need some parts or something?

ERIC: No, nothing fishing related today. We’re actually here looking for someone. Goes by the name of Tam?

Little Moe’s disposition immediately changes. My husband’s name means something to him. I can’t tell if it’s good or bad though. He directs his attention to me.

LITTLE MOE: You would be Harita then?

My name has a connotation in his mouth. This boulder of a human who has lived thousands of miles away from me, whom I have never met in my life, knows who I am. But more specifically, I mean something to him. It’s unnerving to say the least. I try to collect myself and put my shock to the side.

HARITA: Yes. Yes I am. Is Tam here?

Little Moe goes quiet. He rubs his temples and mumbles to himself-

LITTLE MOE: I didn’t think it would be so soon…

ERIC: Moe?

The mountain snaps back to the conversation.

LITTLE MOE: Fraid’ not. Haven’t seen him the past few days.

ERIC: At least we know for certain that he was on the island at some point.

HARITA: How exactly do you know him?

He goes inward again. Little Moe is trepidatious about something. I’m worried to find out exactly what.

LITTLE MOE: Probably easiest if I just show yinz…

—

Little Moe leads us around his house, and we ascend a wooden staircase to the apartment above the garage. Moe fumbles with a set of keys and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and I try to look past him to see inside, but I can’t see much. It’s dark and all the lights are off. A chill runs through my body.

LITTLE MOE: I met your husband a few years back when he first came here. He was looking for a place to stay.

HARITA: Tam lived here?

LITTLE MOE: He did.

HARITA: He called me two nights ago. He said he was in danger, he said-

Little Moe stops me.

LITTLE MOE: I can’t answer anything. I’m sorry, but that’s just not my part in this…

HARITA: Your part?

LITTLE MOE: Go inside. See for yourself.

He steps out of the way and Eric and I enter.

The apartment is nothing special. A small room with a corner kitchen to one side and a claustrophobic bathroom to the other. I smell mildew. It’s in the walls. The carpet. The pillows on the bed. The room feels weighted down, heavy with moisture.

ERIC: What are we looking for Harita?

I wish I could respond, but his guess is as good as mine. I say nothing and continue searching. The apartment is sparse. Unlivable almost. There’s no food in the fridge, barely any clothes in the dresser, the water in the shower runs icy cold. If Tam was living here at some point it must have been a punishment. I wonder if that was the purpose of all this.

ERIC: Hey, look at this-

Eric holds up an old boombox. On the front of it is a note; “My Love. “

I inspect it.

HARITA: It’s his handwriting.

ERIC: There’s a tape inside.

I press the clunky play button and wait. After a few moments of endless white noise, I hear his voice…

TAM: Hello, my Love. I am… so very glad you decided to come. I know you probably have a million and one questions right now, but just know that by simply taking action and coming here, by playing this tape; you’re on your way to answering them. All of them. I promise… I want to see you again, badly, but it’s still too soon. I need you to go and find Annie. She’s here on the island. Go and speak with her. I know I am asking for your patience, but whatever you do just please do not stop searching. Please…

I begin to worry. What kind of puzzle is this Tam? Who is Annie? If you are in so much danger, why not just go and speak with the Sheriff Redhill? Hop on a boat and come home? Instead you’re living in squalor and making cryptic recordings? I begin to wonder if my husband has lost his mind. If all this is a lie; some bad coincidence, involving a quaint town an the delusions of a man dealing with grief. The tape continues-

TAM: I went for a walk the other day, through the forest. I thought back to that time when the two of us went to Cardiff and toured that castle. Do you remember that? It was so windy out that day. We asked the guide to take a photo of us. We sat on that ledge; the one that looked over the entire estate… and just as we began to smile- a gust blew over us and I lost my balance. I could feel gravity reaching for me, pulling me downwards. I thought I was going to die. But then I felt your hand against me chest. You gripped my coat tight at my heart and it’s like you defied the Universe, your own strength, gravity itself. You saved me. You laughed. You were shaken;“That was a close one!” It was. I was falling and you saved me… Harita; don’t be afraid to fall.

I wipe the tears away from my eyes. I remember that moment at the castle well. The fear. The relief. The pull. It was one of the scariest moments of my entire life.

What was about to happen next would top that and then some…

TAM: Throw back the covers.

The tape cuts off. Eric is puzzled.

ERIC: What does that mean?

I look to the bed at the center of the room. I begin to notice that it’s the only thing in the space that has been treated with any sort of care. Made to perfection, no wrinkles. It wants to be examined. I grab the duvet and throw it to the side. I strip off the sheets. I claw away the bed skirt. I see it and I gasp-

ERIC: What the fuck? Is that… no. It can’t be.

But it is. It’s blood.

It’s is not spattered though, instead it has been smeared, painted into the shape of a large thick circle. Within it are various other smaller shapes and symbols. It looks alien. It looks ancient. It looks downright sinister. There are footsteps behind us-

LITTLE MOE: People always used to say to me; “If you’re Little Moe then how big is Big Moe?”

I turn to Little Moe. He holds the shotgun like a swathed newborn. It has weight in his arms. It has purpose. I can tell that he’s going to use it.

LITTLE MOE: Truth is, Big Moe wasn’t that big at all. He was small man. A good man. A kind one.

Moe carries the gun in a trance and walks steadily towards the bed. He sits.

ERIC: Moe, what are you doing?

LITTLE MOE: My Daddy was everything to me. He was my soulmate. People always think that a soulmate is a romantic partner, someone you’re supposed to share your life with, get married to. But that’s not it at all… A soulmate is someone who speaks the same language as you. It’s a bond that’s rooted in the Unknown. It’s indescribable. That is until the bond is broken, then it becomes… painfully quantifiable. When he died; Things were just never the same.

He pumps the shotgun.

HARITA: Please, please wait. Just- just think about what you’re doing.

LITTLE MOE: There’s no need to think. Not anymore. All that’s left for me to do Ms. Harita; is fall… This is my Willful Sacrifice.

ERIC: Moe, don’t!

Moe puts the gun to his chin, pulls the trigger, and I see red.

I fall to the floor. I clutch my chest and try to breathe. Eric falls down next to me and holds his face in his palms.

There’s a stillness that falls over a space when a life departs from it. You can feel it. It has a texture. It’s misty and devoid like after a rainstorm. What leaves our bodies when they crumble? Scientifically we do lose weight, we lose mass. Where does this energy go? Does it travel somewhere else? Someplace beyond our sight and understanding? Does it join its “soulmate?” Or does it cease to exist entirely? A paradox to the laws of the Universe, that nothing can be taken only transferred? Or worse: Is it consumed? I hear the Lullaby again. Even out here amongst the trees away from the shore, it’s buzzing all around me.

A glimmer sparkles beneath the bed, emanating from between Moe’s dangling, lifeless legs. I reach and grab for it. Eric sees what I have recovered-

ERIC: Moe’s glasses.

Eric takes them from me and gently places them on the bed next to his body.

—

We call Sheriff Redhill. We sit on the wooden stairs and wait until he arrives. A good amount of time passes before he finally does. He’s taken his time.

He goes into the apartment and looks at the grisly scene. He utters one word.

SHERIFF REDHILL: Shame.

Eric walks me back to The Wilhelm. It feels like I only just woke up, but somehow it has become sunset again. He asks me if I’m OK. I’m not, but I quietly nod. He suggests that I get some rest. I agree. He promises to check on me tomorrow morning and somberly leaves.

As I walk up the old, rickety stairs of The Wilhelm towards my room, I ponder what Tam meant in his recording: “Don’t be afraid to fall.” I realize that if I want to be reunited with my husband, I cannot shun the oddities of the island. I must embrace them whole heartedly and give into their magnetic tug. I must not only fall, but jump headfirst into the Unknown and only then can I maybe hope to come to any sort of revelation. I saved you once Tam. I will save you again. Where should I fall to first? I think…

Annie. Let’s start with her.