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Angel in Disguise

Author's note: This story is inspired by the great Stephen King.
Author's note: This story is inspired by the great Stephen King.  « Hide author's note
Chapters:   « Previous 1 ... 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Next »

Souls

The men laughed in Paul’s face. The stench of rotten eggs, caked on dirt, vinegar, and sweat seeped out of each man’s mouth and Paul prominently smelled it as each breath slid up his nose. The biggest and stinkiest man stepped forward to present himself to Paul’s frightened face. A wad of green, slimy phlegm was shot out of his wretched mouth and landed violently on Paul’s head. It landed just above the corner of his right eye and Paul could feel it sliding into his eye, dripping down as slow as fresh molasses. Paul quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat and stood up in protest. The man who had shot the phlegm towered Paul. He was easily a good two feet taller than Paul was, and he most likely tripled his weight. The burly man shoved Paul back down into his chair, scattering the hot plate of eggs across the table. The milk carton was sent flying through the air and landed with the picture of Barry Kissinger face-up, staring up at Paul’s face. Paul locked eyes with Kissinger for the thousandth time and looked back up at the burly man’s reddened eyes. Paul was yanked from his seat and thrown over the shoulder of the burly man.
“Help! Somebody! Help, please! You’re just going to let him do this?” screamed Paul. He absolutely could not believe what was happening. Where are they taking me? What did I do wrong? Why am I crying?
Barry Kissinger stands outside the diner, watching Paul be taken off to his imminent death. He listens closely and finds that the truckers are taking Paul to a warehouse on the outskirts of town, which the truckers own. Paul’s screams pierce the ears of bystanders and ring throughout the entire town. He was out of his mind. The bystanders were too, just in a slightly different way. Nobody cared this was happening, in fact, they’re quite entertained. The first spice of excitement after years of grueling boredom is always the sweetest and nobody was about to spoil that if they could help it. Hell, even the police station was silent. As Paul was thrown into the 18-wheeler, the men hopped in the truck and started off toward the saloon. That was the last of Paul Blackmore the town would ever see.
The truck was dark. It was also gloomy and wet. It seemed that these men were hauling some sort of animal across the country, but Paul couldn’t tell what kind. All at once as Paul regained consciousness after being knocked otherwise, he heard the cluck of a chicken. The sound reminded him of the farm he had grown up on as a child. His father was a wealthy farmer who had supplied the town with the freshest tomatoes, strawberries, and any other type of produce the town desired. Unfortunately as a sudden breakout of bird flu swept its way across the country, a portion of it harmed his father’s farm and surrounding areas around it. Not knowing, Paul’s father dished out the tainted produce at the local farmer’s market. He infected a quarter of the town, including his lovely wife. She died shortly after contracting the disease and left her husband and Paul behind. Her death was uniquely painless, physically at least. It took its toll on Paul’s father who had slipped in to a comatose-like state of depression. Paul’s father grew recluse and had taken to spending the entire day locked inside his room, coming out only to put Paul to bed. It was a lonely childhood for Paul, a very lonely one indeed. Paul’s father died shortly after due to a self-inflicted overdose of prescription drugs.
Paul felt his way around the truck and eventually found himself standing tall on his feet. A faint light flickered in the other side of the trailer. It was a short flame that danced amidst the murky air. Paul strained his eyes to further inspect the object and concluded it was a lit match.
“Hello? Wh-who’s over there?” Paul asked. He was quite frightened by the mysterious thing looming in the corner, unknown by all. The flame illuminated a face. It was the face of a man quite familiar to Paul. His father, Ramses Blackmore was standing in the corner. Silence fell even more drastically in the trailer as Paul started to weep. He couldn’t understand how his father had gotten there, and frankly didn’t much care. He rounded toward his father and held out his arms to hug him. His father faded into a shadow as Paul’s arms wrapped around his thick neck. His father was disappearing. More like morphing, if you will. He was morphing into the shape of a completely different person.
“I didn’t want you to be scared,” stated Barry Kissinger from the dark corner of the trailer. “I knew that if you thought it was your father here instead of me, you’d take more kindly.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Paul shouted. This time he shouted so loud it hurt his lungs. He was weeping uncontrollably and found himself kneeling in a small puddle of tears.
“Listen, Paul. I’m sorry you had to meet me like this. You have to hear me out.”
“You’re a f*ing psycho,” Paul screamed. “You show up to my house this morning and beat me to a bloody pulp and think I’m going to hear you out? You’ve got it all wrong, buddy. This time you’re going to hear me out.”
“I’m not going to take any s*** from you anymo-“
“Have you ever heard of a guardian angel, Paul?” asked Barry. “I’m quite sure you have. In fact, I know you have. Your father used to rejoice when telling you of them after your mother had died. It gave him something to feel good about in his haze of depression. He always knew you were strong, he wasn’t however. You know that.”
Paul gave Barry a confused stare, still weeping into his arm.
“You miss your mother, don’t you, Paul?” asked Barry.
“Yes,” Paul answered. “I miss her so much. I’d give anything to bring her back. Anything in the world!” Paul sobbed. He was utterly distraught. All of the pain he had kept tucked so deeply inside his soul from his terrible childhood was now pouring and seeping out of every hole in his heart. He missed his mother so much.
“What if I told you I could give you your mother back, Paul? Would you like that?”
Paul’s mouth quivered and spit spilled from the openings.
“H-how could you do that? She’s dead and has been gone for years.” said Paul.
“I know, Paul,” stated Barry. “I can do it though. It takes a special contribution from you, however. You must give me the energy to bring her back. You have to fuel me with the power, Paul. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I just want her back!” Paul shouted. “Who the hell wouldn’t? I’ll do most anything for a single solitary minute more with her. I’m just not sure I can trust you. You didn’t leave a very good first impression, you know.”
“Paul, listen to me!” Barry said, growing quite frustrated. “I had to meet you that way. Would you have given me that token if I had simply asked for it? Hell no!”
Paul stood silent, listening intently to Barry’s reason.
“In order to bring your mother back, I must be in possession of a sort of relic of her nature. That’s why I stole it from you.” Barry stated. “In robbing you, I was actually doing you the greatest favor you have ever received.”
Barry smiled. He had Paul right where he wanted him.
“That’s not all I need, however. I’m going to need something else to fulfill the resurrection.” Barry said.
“And what would that be?” asked Paul, still doubting Barry’s worth.
“It’s very menial, what it costs, to resurrect her. No money, no wealth, no physical items!” Barry told him.
“Then what is there to give?” Paul asked.
“Well, nothing too big. I just need a sort of… spiritual energy.” Barry answered. “You do know what I mean don’t you, Paul?”
Paul shook his head. “Not really, Barry. Tell me, I’m growing more interested by the second.” Paul was being painfully sarcastic and it resonated throughout the darkness.
“Souls, Paul, souls! I need them to give me my spiritual power!” Barry said, quite irritated.
“Of course,” Paul told him. “Well, forget it then. You’re not getting my soul. You know, I knew you were a cheat.”
“No, no, no. I don’t want your soul. If I took your soul, how would you be alive to see your mother?” Barry asked. “No, I need someone much larger. I need someone with more to lose.”
For a brief moment, the two connect eyes. They had such a deep connection at that very moment that their souls intertwined into one single soul. Their souls danced together and dove into a pool of wonder never before reached by mankind. The truck drivers had to go. It was their souls that would quench the thirst of Berry Kissinger and give him the power to grant Paul’s ultimate wish.
“The truck drivers,” said Paul. “They’re the ones you need.”
“Right,” agreed Barry. “Listen, I’ll help you as much as I can, but I’m nowhere near as strong as I should be. Those souls are what make me strong.”
Paul was reminded of the many horror movies he had seen that had featured vampires. He knew that vampires feasted on blood and needed to have it to survive. Barry was a sort of vampire to Paul, constantly needing a human element to survive. In the vampire’s case it was blood, in Barry’s it was soul. Barry disappeared as the flame blew out and Paul found himself alone in the darkness of the trailer. Paul guessed he had been in the back of the truck for a solid hour by now, and wondered when this horrific ride would be over. The trailer bounced over many deep potholes and knocked Paul off his feet more times than he could stand. Paul took his post at the far left corner of the trailer and knelt down on his knees. He fell asleep shortly afterward.
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