Visions of a Madman

Looking out my window, the world looks like a sea of clouds. Not that surprising when one is flying at 30,000 feet, but it does not reduce that sense of wonder at seeing the clear sky above and the clouds below, ignited into brilliant hues as the sun reaches the horizon. Some folks just take it for granted, sit in their seats, reading a book or watching a movie, and ignore the Grand Show just outside their window.

To be sure, the Grand Show is more than just seeing the clouds from the side that had never been seen a hundred some odd years ago. It is seeing the world for what it truly is, for what it is truly meant to be. Most folks cannot, or will not, accept the reality you witness when you catch your first glimpse of the Grand Show. Their unconscious mind takes over, making them turn their heads, to avoid seeing any more of what they cannot accept. Others embrace it too fully, becoming overwhelmed by the truth and spend their days as madmen and lunatics, forever making incomprehensible claims. There are very few who manage to witness the Grand Show without losing a grip on what the majority call the “Real World”. These are the ones who keep the rest of humanity safe.

The Grand Show, after all, can be quite dangerous. It is where all things hidden become revealed, including those things that would prefer to remain hidden. Some call them demons, devils, angels, spirits, what have you. I simply refer to them as Others. Some are decent enough, others not so much, and still others who would simply rip you apart for acknowledging their existence.

Humanity, for its part, has lost much of its ability to see the Grand Show. Perhaps it was an evolutionary advantage to not be able to sense, and as a result remain somewhat hidden yourself, from things that would just as soon devour you as look at you. They are all around us, hidden in plain sight, just as we are all around them similarly hidden. Except when there is a breach. When that happens, chaos is sure to follow, the scale of the chaos is the only variable.

When a human becomes aware, and the denizens of the Grand Show become aware of them, a power struggle among the various factions ensues. Demons, devils, angels, spirits, eldritch things, and more all vie for that human’s energy. All these factions struggle against one another, but all share a common enemy.

Eating away at the edge of the Grand Show, the Void is an ever present threat. The voidbeasts that infiltrate the Grand Show seek to destroy it from within, but more importantly, it is these creatures that pose the largest threat to humanity. An unseen enemy that becomes more aware of humanity’s existence every day, and actively hunts those humans that have become aware of the Grand Show.

Denton closed his front door, turned, took two steps down his walkway, and froze in his tracks.

They were back.

The grey squirrel in the middle of his front walk, not five feet away from him, looked up into his eyes. It’s beady gaze burning into his brain.

“More nuts! More nuts now!”

The sound bounced around in his skull like marbles in an empty can rolling downhill.

Denton screamed and threw his arms up, launching his briefcase into the air and onto the roof of his neighbor’s house. In a blur he turned and ran back to his front door, frantically trying to find the correct key on the ring.

Denton’s neighbor, who had been in mid-good morning wave stopped short and picked up the pace to his car and quickly locked the doors.

As it slammed shut behind Denton, he caught his breath as he leaned back on the door.

“Not again. This is not happening again.”, Denton thought as images of squirrels pursuing him through forests, down streets, across parks, and very nearly everywhere a squirrel could be found flashed through his mind.

“More nuts!”

The sound of small claws scratching at the front door grew louder, as if the squirrel had company. Lots of company.

Denton shrieked and run up the stairs.

Denton had learned at a very early age that squirrels were out to get him. Always demanding more nuts, rushing up to him, chewing their way into his attic (before he lined the inside of his attic with aluminum sheeting), and being intimidating terrors with bushy tails; this was how Denton had viewed squirrels since he was no more than five years old. He also learned fairly quickly that he alone was able to hear the squirrel collective hive mind and their incessant demands.

He had tried to placate them, putting bad after bag of peanuts, sunflower seeds, and whatever else he could find outside for the squirrels. But it was never enough. They always returned and demanded more.

He thought he had escaped when he moved to this new town. The last two months had been squirrel free. Until this morning.

He peeked out a window on the second floor and saw dozens of squirrels on his lawn. He knew there would be more and began to scan the trees.

A small, furry grey head popped up on the other side of the window.

“More nuts!”

Denton jumped backwards, ramming his head into the hall table, knocking himself senseless. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the sound of wood splintering downstairs and the scrabbling of dozens of claws on the linoleum floor by the front door.

“Hmm, that’s odd.”

John looked at Dr. Parsis and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Dr. Parsis did not notice and continued moving his stethoscope to various areas of John’s back.

“Um, what’s odd, Doc?”, John mumbled around the thermometer in his mouth.

“I can’t seem to locate your heartbeat.”

“That doesn’t sound good. You sure you’re listening in the right spot?”

Dr. Parsis stepped back and gave John a quick ‘are you freaking kidding me‘ look before retrieving the thermometer. As he checked it, the look on Dr. Parsis’ face made John nervous.

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm? What does ‘hmmm’ mean, Doc? You look like you’re puzzled … which I can tell you from a patient stand point is not what you want your doctor to look like, especially during a check up.”

“Well, it seems as if you … I don’t know exactly how to put this. I’ve never actually had to tell anyone this about themselves.”

“Spit it out, Doc. This is killing me.”

“No, no, I’m quite certain that it isn’t. Mr. Driscol, it seems that you are already dead.”

“What?!?”

“You have no heartbeat, your body temp is currently 65F, which is 5 degrees cooler than when I first took it. I think the air conditioning in the office may be set a little too low …”

“What do you mean I am dead?!? You mean that I am dying, right? That I don’t have much longer to live??”

“Um, no. I mean you’re dead. That odd bruising on your back you wanted me to look at? I’m fairly certain that is the result of post mortem hypostasis … you died and your blood pooled to the lowest parts of your body. In this case, your back.”

Dr. Parsis pulled out a small flashlight and shined it in John’s eyes.

“And your pupils are fixed and dilated. You, Mr. Driscol, are dead.”

“But I am right here and talking with you.”

“Yes, that is a bit of a puzzle.”

“‘Bit of a puzzle‘?? Seems pretty straight forward to me. Since dead folks aren’t know as great conversationalists, I am pretty sure it means I am not dead.”

“Well, you are an anomaly, to be sure, but you are most certainly dead. By every definition, biologically speaking of course. I really should technically fill out a death certificate.’

“Now hang on, Doc! Don’t go filling out any …”

“Mr. Driscol, do I tell you how to do your job? Whatever your job is?”

“Well, no. But I just don’t…”

Dr. Parsis held up his hand and proceeded to fill out the needed paperwork to declare John Driscol dead.

We lay there together, tall grass and red poppies surrounding us, looking up at the clouds and electrically blue sky, neither saying anything. It was enough to be in each others’ company, to know the other was within an arm’s reach. The smell of the field, of the country air, of her perfume, all dancing around my senses. It had been a long time since we had last done this and I was unsure as to why. I turned my head to ask her.

And I remembered.

As I lay there looking at her, at the translucence of her being, it all came flooding back to me.

It had been three years and still I found myself forgetting from time to time. Forgetting that she was gone. Taken far too soon and far too quickly. All I had left was the essence of her, a small piece of her being that somehow managed to remain behind.

My friends and family all thought me mad when I first mentioned it. They could not see her. Why, I do not know. Perhaps as a final secret shared between the two of us, something to be kept from the rest of the world. Or perhaps I was truly mad. Either way, I downplayed it and, after some time, it seemed to fade from their memories for the most part, though I still occasionally catch concerned glances and whispers.

I can’t blame them. If anyone had told me they were seeing, speaking, touching the spirit of their lost love several years ago, I would have surely thought them to be profoundly disturbed by their loss. Now, I know better. I know when the bond is strong enough, even death cannot truly keep two people apart. She is my proof.

And so we lie here, looking at the sky, searching for fleeting glimpses of what could have been in the clouds overhead, her hand in mine, with a touch as gentle as a breeze.