Falling From Eternity (A Paranormal Love Story) (5 page)

I typically didn’t like to use my
abilities within such close proximity to humans, but I couldn’t
stand seeing my apartment in such disarray. I sped through the
space, returning the books to their shelves and adjusting the couch
cushions which were completely disheveled from my uncomfortable
night’s sleep. Plus, I was a bit of a neat freak and it made me
anxious to see such clutter. A friend once told me it was because
my life was in such disorder, that I became OCD in my desperate
need to control something. There’s a good chance they were
right.

Yesterday I’d thought that seeing Ming
would be the hardest thing I’ve had to do, but today I realized I
was wrong. Today Hazel was going to be laid to rest. This would be
the first funeral I’ve attended since before I was changed. I have
seen dead bodies before. Lots of dead bodies. And, to be brutally
honest with myself, I’ve killed before. None of that bothered me,
yet, going to a cemetery unnerved me beyond comprehension. I’m
fascinated with the idea of an afterlife, but that wasn’t enough to
make me wish I didn’t have to go. What was I afraid of? The
cemetery wasn’t going to swallow me up like some dark void. Was
it?

Tom meowed from outside my front door,
stirring me from my absurd worries. I opened the door, letting him
trot inside; happily heading straight for his food dish. I watched
him for a moment, amused with the simplicity of his life as he
munched carelessly away on his Purina. If only my life could be as
easy as a cat’s.

There was no more time for delay. I
dressed in my finest black Calvin Klein suit, with a dark, navy
blue dress shirt and black tie. Leaving myself with no time to
shower, even though I could take the world’s fastest one, I wet my
hair and slicked it down with some styling gel. My feet slipped
into my Steve Madden kickbacks and I shoved my arms in my wool
coat. Looking into the tall mirror that hung on the back of my
bedroom door, I couldn’t help the smirk that pulled up the corners
of my lips. Right now, dressing for this funeral, made me look more
like a vampire than I had in decades. The contrast of the dark
clothing made my skin paler than it really was, my eyes were
bloodshot with dark bags from lack of sleep, and because of my
outburst yesterday my fangs hadn’t fully retracted. I used to be
able to manipulate them at will, but I’d shelved my aggressive
nature for so long it was hard to control it once it had been
released. I lifted my lips to survey the damage. They weren’t fully
extended, which was good, but they were still longer than normal.
I’d have to be careful not to reveal too much of myself today.
Funerals were bad enough; I didn’t need to scare anyone.

I stepped out into the cold afternoon,
happy to see it wasn’t snowing. The usual murky cloud cover hung in
the sky, blocking the harsh sun from penetrating through to the
earth below. I locked the door just after Tom dashed out, and
headed down the steps to my SUV as I slid on my shades. The sun
might not have been out, but…to be honest, I thought I looked like
hammered shit. It was easier to hide behind my shades; there were
fewer questions that way.

“
Look at you, dressed so
nice!” Maria proclaimed with her thick Italian accent. “Where are
you going?” she asked as I walked past the back entrance to her
restaurant. She had been stirring a pot of what was likely her
famous pasta sauce. It was almost comical watching her in the
kitchen. Standing there next to the stove; that pot was almost as
tall as her.

“
Good afternoon, Maria.” I
smiled at her as the smell of herbs and fresh baked bread wafted
through the air in heavenly wisps. She was preparing to open for
the day, and she liked to keep the back door open so the kitchen
didn’t get too warm. Even in the middle of winter she said it was
like a furnace in her kitchen. I wondered if she didn’t have good
ventilation. Perhaps I should take a look at it for her one day?
“I’m attending a funeral today, for a dear friend of
mine.”

“
Oh, mia povera bambina.
Per favore. Come, come. I feed you.” She shuffled toward me, ready
to guide me into the kitchen as she wiped her hands on her
apron.

“
I’d love to, but I’m
already running late.” She nodded in understanding, and then pulled
me in for a kiss on each cheek before retreating back to her
stoves.

People were filing into the
restaurant, ready for a late lunch as I pulled onto the street. The
cemetery was just outside of town, out past a horse ranch. I’d
always been curious about going there. I hadn’t been on a horse in
ages. Did I even still know how to ride? Or, was it like a bicycle
and one could never forget? I then realized I couldn’t recall the
last time I’d even ridden a bicycle. It definitely hadn’t happened
after I’d been turned, and nearly everything before that was a fog.
Maybe because it had been so long since I was human, or maybe that
was just another side-effect of what I was. In order to truly
become a monster, you needed to forget who you once
were.

Massive maple trees lined the entry
into the cemetery. Their skeletal branches reached for the heavens
as their shadows spider-webbed across the landscape. I took a deep
breath, turning through the iron gate. The metal had been molded
into a simple design of curls and spirals, twirling upward into a
cross. The quality was impressive, and I was surprised to see that,
for such a small town, Denton could afford such an obviously
expensive piece of metallurgy. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised
though; this town had a lot of old money and one thing I’ve learned
about death is that those who have money in life want to make sure
people know it even after their gone.

Stone pylons held the gate open as I
passed between, careful not to hit my side view mirrors in the
narrow opening. My tires crunched against snow and gravel as my SUV
moved at a snail’s pace. I didn’t even have my foot on the gas, I
was just letting it coast, slowly rolling deeper into the cemetery.
I scanned the scenery, trying to pinpoint the location of Hazel’s
final resting place while also trying not to look at anything at
the same time. It wasn’t working too well. How ironic was it that
someone like me felt uneasy in such a place? That the mere sight of
tombstones made me feel queasy. I guess maybe I’d grown soft over
the years.

And there it was; a stark white canopy
in the distance sheltering a group of mourners from the impending
snowfall. I immediately pulled over, feeling the need for air. My
SUV was suffocating me, growing more and more like my very own
coffin. I enjoyed the bite of the freezing afternoon weather as I
stepped out. It made me feel alive.

You aren’t dead, you
idiot!
I scolded myself.

Contrary to popular belief
you didn’t need to die to become like me. Although, I would admit
that you do come damn close. There was no grotesque metamorphosis,
no burial in the ground to then rise like some living dead,
and
no
coffins!
They weren’t comfortable at all, in fact, they were suffocating and
impossible to own this day and age. What would people think if
every time I moved they saw me loading a coffin into my U-Haul?
Simply absurd!

I pushed the how’s and
why’s aside; they weren’t important right now. I avoided walking
through the cemetery, uncertain of where my feet were falling.
There were dozens of tombstones, but I knew that wasn’t the only
type of marker, so I stayed to the graveled path until the canopy
was right in front of me. Then I
had
to truly cross the threshold of
the cemetery. Into the land of the dead. Of the
forgotten.

To my surprise there were
a handful of people already there. I guess the obituary I asked to
be placed in the local paper was a good idea. Hazel had always told
me she didn’t have any family, but…well, if that were true then no
one would have been here. Family or not, they cared enough to show
up and that was all that mattered. I was glad I wasn’t the only
one. Despite our friendship, it didn’t seem right that
I
be the one to send her
to her final resting place.

I took a seat not too close to the
other mourners, but not so far away as to draw attention. The
minister stood idly beside a stand of flowers holding a bible
against his chest. He was dressed in a black suit and red tie, with
a long thick jacket and a wooly scarf. It was a cold day, and I
could see his breath cloud into the air as he exhaled. I pulled my
gaze away from everyone; away from the misty eyes and gloomy faces,
and cast them toward my dear friend. Her casket was white; pure and
peaceful just like she was. Roses and orchids sat atop it like a
flowery pillow, their fragrant aroma filling my senses. It was
almost beautiful in a sad, heartbreaking sort of way. I had to
remind myself that she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in that ivory box;
and not in the rotting body inside it, either. I had to believe she
was someplace else; to believe what she believed, that there was
more to life than just living on this earth. It was just a stepping
stone to something greater.

The service began with a prayer,
something about a shepherd and green pastures; I wasn’t listening.
I was too busy staring at her casket, allowing my mind to betray
me.

What if she was wrong?
What if once you die that’s it, you disappear into
oblivion?

I grimaced at my own doubtful
thoughts, as I bit my lip and painfully reminded myself that my
fangs hadn’t fully retracted. Maybe I was being foolish. Was this
whole journey of mine pointless? Why was I searching for proof of
an afterlife when I could live forever? No, I knew why, because
living forever no longer held any appeal for me. What was the
point? The only people who would ever truly know me were the ones
that were like me, and I didn’t like them very much.

I wrung my hands together as the
mourners took their turns to share a story about Hazel. I learned
that two of the older women used to play Bridge with her every
Sunday, before she got ill. The third person, a robust man with a
receding hairline, was apparently a distant cousin who admitted
having not seen her since he was a child. He looked to be well into
his thirties. He shared how she had tried to teach him to play the
piano, but his fingers were so short and stubby that he was never
very good. The admission brought a sad smile to his
face.

No one else stood up then to share
their eulogy, but still the minister scanned the small gathering.
His eyes surveyed me briefly, but my body wouldn’t move. I had
wanted to say something, but I just couldn’t force myself to stand
up. I just sat there like a frozen log. Others shifted nervously
under the minister’s gaze. There were at least seven others who
didn’t speak. Maybe it was too hard for them too, or maybe they
just didn’t know what to say. I suppose it didn’t matter either
way. If what Hazel believed was true, then she wasn’t here to hear
any of it anyway.

“
Let us join in prayer,”
the minister said after clearing his throat.

Everyone bowed their heads, and I did
the same but kept my eyes open. I couldn’t take them off the
coffin. I kept focusing on it as if Hazel would scream out from
inside to be saved. As if I would hear her breathing even one tiny
breath and I would know that she was still alive. It was foolish,
and I knew those things could not happen, but here I was, waiting
for it.

“
God, our Father, Your
power brings us to birth, Your providence guides our lives, and by
Your command we return to dust,” the minister prayed aloud
solemnly, as everyone joined in his words. Everyone except me. I
didn’t like how this prayer was going. I didn’t like the idea of
turning into dust. Not, Hazel. No, I wanted to imagine her
ascending like an angel into the heavens. An angel of light; and
peace, and music.

“
Lord, those who die still
live in Your presence, their lives change but do not end.” The
prayer continued, managing only to make me sadder than I was
before. Despite everything I was trying to make myself believe, it
really did seem so final. The rest of the prayer faded away as I
tried desperately to block it out.

The minister gave a nod, and a man
flipped a switch that began lowering the casket into the ground. A
faint grinding noise filled the air, making several women wail into
their tissues. I wondered what they believed. If only I could read
minds, perhaps my search for an answer would be so much
easier.

Within a couple of minutes the casket
was out of sight, and everyone started rising from their seats. A
few stopped beside the grave, dropping flowers into the hole before
walking away, grief shadowing their features. Before I knew it I
was the last one to remain, aside from one man who was there to
fill the grave once everyone was gone. He stood off to the side,
doing his best to give me time to grieve. I wondered if having a
job like his was difficult. It had to be sad, knowing that you
would wake up every day and bury someone. Maybe it was easier when
you didn’t know the person. Although I couldn’t imagine something
like this ever being easy. But how was my current profession any
different? I was caring for these people, knowing full well they’d
die someday soon. I was setting myself up for this pain, but maybe
I also deserved it? I suddenly felt sorry for all the lives I’d
taken in the past. For all the funerals I had caused. I had been a
monster. No, I was a monster. No matter how hard I tried to hide
it; it was still inside me, skulking in a corner;
waiting.