“For a thousand lies, a thousand deaths must he die”, Mumbled Jack to himself as he squinted to read the rest of the epitaph on the time worn headstone. “No peace shall this soul find, until #####” “Until what?” Jack said, this time it was not a silent mumble, but an exclamation loud enough to wake the dead. With the sound of his voice the birds that were just coming in to roost for the night took quickly again to flight startling Jack. The beating of a hundred tiny wings echoed off the silent stone statues that stood watch over this forgotten place of eternal rest. Forgotten by the living and known now only by the dead. Vines from the near by woods, crept like hairy fingers across the ground, occasionally finding the foot of a cold stone angel. The hush quickly returned as the frightened birds soon settled. Jack, now tired from reading, made his way over to base of the huge Iron Gate that hung seemingly in mid air, but in reality, it was held in place by the massive hairy vines that seemed to grow everywhere. It was here that Jack chose the pitch his tent for the night; it was here that he would forever regret leaving the main road in search for something more private and out of the way.

Jack pulled out his small dome tent from his backpack and began to unfold it being careful to pull all the creases from it.  Looking upward at the sky from his kneeling position, Jack could see the thunderheads forming in the west as the falling sun played hide & seek, dodging in and out of the ever-darkening cumulus that were beginning to resemble angry giants on the horizon.

Long black shadows began to edge their way across the cemetery as the sun continued it’s decent and Jack could smell the odors of the decaying forest become increasingly more pungent. Reaching for his canteen, he took a long cool sip of water that felt like liquid ice sliding down his parched throat. Beads of sweat formed like shiny clear BBs on his forehead as he hammered the last stake into the ground and shifted the center pole on his tent.  With his tent in place, Jack sat at the entrance and watched the remaining light of the day fade into the twilight of evening. New sounds began to emerge from the woods as crickets and frogs started their nightly courting ritual. Fireflies cast their intermittent light in hundreds of tiny yellow specks against the backdrop of pines. Another odor soon started to overwhelm Jack, one in which he was familiar. It had been two days since his last bath and felt that he could probably use one now.  He recalled passing a spring on his way in from the woods and thought a bath and a clean change of clothes would lift his spirits. Grabbing his flashlight, Jack made his way in the direction of the spring. It was not far, perhaps sixty or seventy yards, but with the encroaching night, it seemed further. Snaking his way around the bramble and vines, he made his way to the spring.

 Over his left shoulder, he noticed a pale yellow moon as it peeked from a clearing in the pine thicket.                                   Thinking of the moons beauty, Jack gave a smile of contentment as he watched the water from the spring swirl in tiny circles. He paused at the edge of the moss-covered bank and began to undress. Pulling his T-Shirt over his head, one could see well-defined muscles that flexed in quick spasms as he unbuckled his trousers. 

Tossing his soiled smelly garments to the side, he stood naked at the waters edge. In the West he could hear the faint rumblings of the approaching storm and in the East the moon flickered like a huge candle behind the trees. This was perfect Jack thought, as he made his way into the cool refreshing water. Floating languidly on his back with his eyes closed, he forgot about the past. He let the cool spring wash away the memories of the institution where he had spent most of his life. He was happy and at peace, at least that is what he told himself.

The sound of thunder roused Jack from his placid dream like state and reminded him that Shangri-La was for losers. Looking at his shriveled skin he figured that he had enough and realized that he needed to get back to camp, after all, the storm would be arriving soon.

Jack swam in the direction of the mossy bank where he had entered into this pool of bliss. Reaching the shore, he fumbled in the dark for his flashlight, but could not locate it. Maybe he had left it with his clothes, but when he walked to where he had tossed his clothes, he was shocked to see that they were not here either. A little voice spoke up in Jacks head and said, “you are not alone Jack, and someone is watching you”

“Stop it Jack said to himself, just leave me alone”.

It had been a long time since Jack had heard that voice from within, It was that tiny voice that caused him to be put in the institution in the first place and he wanted no part of it, but for some reason he knew it was telling the truth this time, and this frightened Jack.

 Without warning, a bright flash of lightning screamed across the treetops followed immediately by an enormous boom of thunder. “I have to get out of here thought Jack” in a panic now. Dropping to his knees he scrounged the forest floor like some sort of animal, “where are my clothes shouted Jack”?

“You know where they are piped the inner voice” “HE took them”.                              Fear began to set in, when suddenly another flash from the sky illuminated the forest floor. It was then that Jack saw him running; zig zagging through the woods, a shadow, a huge shadow, much unlike that of a man. Jacks heart was now pounding so hard, he felt as if it would leave his chest if it were not bound by skin and bone.

Fear now controlled Jack, a fear that he had not felt since scaling the fence at the institution and escaping to a freedom that he had never known. Fear of being cornered and trapped like some animal, fear of being watched and observed. Jack began to shake uncontrollably, and he wanted to run, he wanted to hide, but he knew that he would never be truly free. Freedom was just a word to Jack, it held no meaning, to Jack it was just another lie.

(Wham), another hot white streak bolted from the sky and struck a nearby tree setting its limbs on fire.  Jack knew that he would have to seek shelter at once. Setting off in the direction of where he pitched camp, Jack hurried without regard to the bramble that tore at his naked flesh. He stopped once to regain his breath and in that instant, he knew that he was being followed, he could feel it, and he could smell him. It was the smell of what Jack thought decaying flesh would smell like. Leaning against a large tree, Jack surveyed his surroundings, listening, watching and seeing nothing. All that he could hear was pitter-patter of the rain dancing off the leaves and the occasional rumble of thunder. The storm was subsiding, but that did not diminish the urgency of getting out of here. His breath having returned, Jack continued his trek back to where he pitched camp. The rain fell steady and felt good to Jack, as he climbed up the small knoll that led to the cemetery, upon reaching the crest and fully expecting to see his camp, Jack was shocked to only see more woods. He was certain that he came the right direction, surely he was not lost, and after all, the spring was only a couple hundred feet from his camp. Jack stood in disbelief.

Laughing hysterically now at his predicament Jack turned and looked back into the direction, he had just come. Total darkness greeted his stare, as he stood face to face with the night. The storm that brought the fierce lightning had subsided now and no longer illuminated the forest floor and now just the darkness prevailed. He thought of the shadow that he saw running down by the spring and he wondered if it were still out there? “He is still there Jack, and he is waiting for you said the voice in his head” He now stood atop the knoll naked and bleeding from his run through the hawthorn and berry brambles. Fear began to overwhelm him again as he thought of the shadow and he thought back to one of his group sessions just last week when Bruce, that nutty old Vietnam Vet started off on one of his (what Jack liked to call)…

 “Jungle Lessons” It was here that Jack learned of escape, it was here that he also learned of fear and what it can do to you.

“Yep, Boys, fear has a smell unlike any other, and if you are afraid, you can count on the enemy sniffing you out and killing you deader than dead”.

Bruce’s words rang like little bells in Jack’s mind as thought of this. “Deader than dead” shouted Jack aloud, startling not only himself, but also a small covey of quail that had roosted in a nearby berry bramble. For the first time in his life, Jack wished he were back inside the institution, safe from the shadows that move in the woods, safe from the fear that he smelled on himself.

The skies began to clear some and the once yellow moon, now shone a dull white. This allowed for some ease and a let Jack get his bearings somewhat and with a little luck find his camp.

 Walking quickly in the direction of what looked like a clearing, Jack tried to ignore the cracking of limbs behind him that grew closer with each step he took. Stopping occasionally to listen, he would hear nothing. Once he started walking again, the noise would resume. This tore into his mind and burnt fear in his heart, faster and faster he walked, until he reached a slow run. Using the moon as his lantern, he dogged the trees and bramble the best he could, however though, he could feel his legs giving way, and yet he pushed onward, collapsing into an chaotic heap at the base of an old

Moss covered oak. Exhausted, he was ready to give up, he could run no more. His lungs burnt like fire and his legs resembled hamburger that has been freshly ground. Blood poured now from gapping wounds and his feet looked more like tattered rags.

“Lies, all lies,” screamed Jack as he pounded his head against the large unmoving oak. Large tears welled in Jacks eyes, as he groaned under the weight of this horrid reality. Exhausted from his tribulation, Jack closed his eyes to sleep, no longer worried about the shadow in the woods, not even concerned that he was naked and lost. He was tired and hope had forsaken him, at this very moment, he did not even care if there was a tomorrow. Sleep is what he needed, and sleep he did, however there was not any rest in his slumber. Nightmares were plentiful, and so real he could almost taste them. In one, he was in his room at the institution strapped to a gurney and as helpless as a child. Large shadowy figures probed his entire body; he tried to scream, but made no sound. It was then that he saw one of the shadow shapes raise a glass jar over its head. The jar contained a clear liquid and Jack’s tongue. Jack continued his muted cries for help, but no helper had he.

Jack woke to a buzzing sound and painful stinging. How long had he been asleep he wondered, an hour, maybe two, Looking down at his legs and began screaming and this was no muted scream, if anyone or anything were nearby, they would know exactly where Jack was. He continued to scream as he watched the flesh on his legs shift back and forth across his shin. Reaching down to hold his skin in place, he realized that it was not his flesh that was moving, but the hundreds of blood sucking dear flies that had been drawn to the fresh wounds. Relieved somewhat, he realized that he needed to keep moving. Standing up to get his bearings, he surveyed his surroundings; the moon was low in the West now and would soon be setting. If he were going to find his way out of here, he had to do it before the moon set. Traveling without its light could be deadly in unfamiliar surroundings, waiting for sunrise was not even an option. Trying to keep his mind off his injuries, Jack tried to focus on happier times in his life and what he discovered was that he could not recall ever being happy, that he had always had disappointment and heart ache. As well as he knew, and as for all concerned, his life was just one big lie. What that headstone back at the cemetery said, pretty much summed up Jack’s life, now how did that go thought Jack, “For a thousand lies, a thousand deaths must he die”. “That was it” Jack said aloud, not caring if the boogieman himself heard it. “That’s right, a thousand lies, and I am on death number 999”. Jack stopped and looked at the setting moon and smiled a crooked little smile, turned around and asked the shadow that had been trailing him, “ is it time already”?

************************************* 

Conclusion:

“Hey Joe” shouted the orderly Steve, “Over here, I found him, hurry up Joe, I am going to need some help with this”.

“I coming” said Joe, “just hold your horses”

“You better call the Medical Examiner, because you are not going to believe this”. Steve said.

All right, all right, I’m here already, now what’s the big de.. Oh my heavens, oh my…. cried Joe.

“Yeah, I know,” said Steve…look at his eyes!

“He has only been missing for an hour, what could have done this,” retorted Joe.

“I do not know” said Steve, “but look at Jacks eyes, they are as black as coal and look at this carved on his chest”

“I would rather not,” said Joe

“It says NO PEACE SHALL MY SOUL FIND” How do you suppose he did that? Said Steve.

I haven’t a clue said Joe, here, take my coat and cover him up; he is starting to give me the willies.
© J. Allen Wilson all rights reserved