Flickering Lights

[JackShea]

One night a wind caressed my cheek at a time I most needed soothing. And then ever so slightly her lips brushed mine. I closed my eyes. I smiled. She laughed, then fled as I reached for her. Without assistance the fan light flicked on and the blades began to rotate. A door slammed. Next to me my wife woke.
What is it?
Nothing, go back to sleep.
I turned away from her and tried to conjure the image of the girl who comes to me in the night. She was young. Her hair was black. Her eyes? I was never sure of her eyes for they darted about as though in search of something missing. Her body was full and energized. She sated me and invigorated my youthful desires. Not being able to sleep I rose and went to the sink. I slapped cold water on my face then hesitantly I turned on the light. A man with a lined face, a gray-haired man stared back. In fright I flicked off the switch, laid my palms upon the basin and sweated. And then again, I heard her laugh.

The night was moonless and un-starred. Upon the porch I sat, lit a cigarette and watched the trembling of my hands. In the distance a coyote howled and was answered. Again a wind picked up and my name floated upon its breeze.
Johnny.
Johnny.
I started to heed the call. I rose and moved into the darkness.
What’s the matter John?
I turned suddenly. A woman, robed, stood in the doorway. She spoke with an unfamiliar tension in her voice. Momentarily I was stunned to be gazing into this grey-haired woman’s face. I wondered who she was and why she was on my porch. Yet there was an intimacy to her implorations.
John?
Catlike my head rotated side to side until the veil was removed from my eyes and I remembered who this woman was.
There is nothing the matter honey. I just couldn’t sleep. I lied.
Would you like a cup of tea? It might help.
Yes, that would be nice. I turned away.
Where are you going? She asked concerned.
Just out to the corral. I departed.

The mare snorted as I walked past the peeler core enclosure. I clicked my tongue and assured her all was well. I could hear the slow clip clop of her hooves as she approached the fence line. She stuck her nose over the rail’s top and softly I blew into her nostrils. She sniggered and rolled her head in a circle, as was her habit when hungry or pleased. I scratched her forelock and then behind her ears. And then a blazing light sent her kicking and bucking. At first I shielded my eyes but then my eyes became accustomed to the flames on the hillside behind the corral. Then the words echoed in my ears.
Help me Johnny. Help me please!
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HELP! I have too many characters to put this up but can't figure out how to put in an attachment? You can read the rest on jackshea.net in the short stories section but I would certainly appreciate any help...Jack

[Yelena]

;) Thumbs up! I'm looking forward to reading the rest of your works

[JackShea]

It was the voice of the young girl who died in the crash. Why did I see the girl in the middle of the flames beseeching me to come to her? Why was I able to scamper up the mountainside with the hardiness of youth when in truth I have seen sixty years pass? Why after eighteen years had this girl returned? Perhaps it was I who summoned her to our abode. As I reached the hilltop there she stood upon the wing of the Cessna 210, flames leaping all around her. Her lips parted, her teeth white, her head tilted skyward, her arms outstretched, summoning me forward. I obeyed.

As I blew on the teacup I could feel her eyes upon me, concerned. She stirred her sugar and the scrape, scrape, scraping sounds of the spoon grated on my nerves. I clenched my teeth and cocooned in my silence.
“Maybe you should get help.”
“I need a good night’s sleep is all.”
“John, why are you sleeping naked?”
“I was hot.”
“We’ve been married thirty-five years and you’ve been hot before.”
I stopped her before she could continue.
“Sara, I’m tired now. I think I’ll take my tea to bed.”

The rabbits rustled outside the window. A lizard crawled up the cedar siding of the house. A donkey brayed toward the eastern side of the valley and a rooster crowed. I feigned sleep as Sara slid beneath the sheets. I wanted to roll over and caress this person next to me and say, “Friend, friend you are my best friend.” I thought back to the days when we were young and lovers and parents. I reached for her and just as I was about to whisper, “Sara,” the soft light above our bed flicked on and the girl was back in the room.

All day I thought of her and willed the night to embrace me for she never came in daylight. When she did come our bodies entwined differently each time. When she ceased to come I wondered what it was I did to make her go away. Earlier and earlier I took to bed but still the light did not flicker. I didn't see the irrationality of my behavior. As husband and wife, Sara and I ceased to exist. The strain of my habits overtook her. She packed her bags, kissed me on the cheek and flew to Iowa to visit her sister.

That night I did not see the light flicker but the fan began to turn and then she was beside me. My hand moved first to her hip, down her leg, and finally between her thighs. Slowly I licked the side of her leg then her stomach. Quickly she rolled upon her back. My head slid downward and my tongue in smooth even strokes, like a cat preening itself, pampered her. She raised herself ever so slightly, caressing the top of my head. I kissed her lips over and over as she raised and lowered herself. I could taste her pleasure. I thought not of my own enjoyment but hers. Slowly she moved her body. Her hands reached between my legs and as she was mine, I was hers. Abruptly she stopped, rose from the bed and took my hand. I followed her to the window and we looked out at the partially covered moon darting in and out of the clouds. She placed her hands upon the windowsill then reached back and guided me into her. There were no words only the give and take as I held firmly to her hips and when I could take no more I released.

When I came out of the bathroom I panicked. I ran from room to room but she was gone. Outside a rain began to fall. As I raced by the corral and up the hillside toward the crash site I was unaware of my nakedness. Nor was I aware of the scratches and cuts and the blood oozing down my body as I scampered through the brush on over the rocks in pursuit of her. When I reached the top there was no plane. There was no girl, only rain, cold and uncaring upon my body.

I stood before the bathroom mirror and returned his gaze. I did not see a lined face or a silver head. I saw a man, handsome and in all his prowess. I smiled and he returned the smile. The light flickered. I heard her laugh. As I turned to look back in the mirror there stood an old man and he too was laughing. When I asked where she had been she turned from me. When I asked her if she would come more often, she put her finger upon my lips and said SHH! I told her I wanted her forever. She feigned listening. It was then I devised my plan.

The barn was used more for storage than livestock. Bales of alfalfa and bermuda grass had to be rearranged to accommodate the bed I planned on moving into the barn. The sun was setting to the north of Sycuan Mountain. As I dragged the mattress through the house the answering machine clicked on. I ignored the pleas of Sara to, “Please pick up the phone!” How many times she repeated the word please I cannot recall. I wanted to speak with her but there was so much to do and so little sunlight.

The bed was now set up. I hung the fanlight above the bed and ran a cord along the riser in the barn. With apprehension I turned on the toggle switch. The light came on and the blades circled with a slight whoosh, whooshing sound. Before extinguishing the light I checked to make sure no livestock had inadvertently strayed into the enclosure. Assured all was well, I retrieved the gasoline can from the garage and doused the stacks of hay bales.

I wanted this night to be ideal. I shaved twice and then showered. It was time. Darkness had come to the valley. I took one final look in the mirror. The answering machine switched on again. Vaguely I heard the words, “Come… tomorrow… Sara.” Maybe it was, “Love Sara,” I cannot remember. Nor do I remember walking to the barn but I do remember securing the doors with padlocks, undressing and pulling back the covers of the bed. I tried to sleep. Hour upon hour passed but still she did not come. Nor would she if I remained in this wakened state. I tossed and turned as a child on Christmas Eve. I counted. I breathed in and out, then counted again. The night sounds intensified. What hour she came, I cannot remember. A light flashed across my eyelids. Quickly I sat up. She stood above me slowly removing her jeans, then her panties. She pulled her shirt over her head, shook her head back and forth, and ran her fingers through her hair. I wanted her now and began to rise but she pushed me backward.

I begged. I implored. I pleaded. Perhaps even wept but she remained steadfast. It was this coldness toward my supplications that propelled me toward the hay bales, which I ignited. As the flames encompassed our bed she turned and smiled and for the first time I saw her eyes. They were colorless. I wanted her to be with me always. I wanted to know where she was when she was not with me.
“ I want you to be with me forever!” I screamed.

As the flames encircled us she spoke.
“ Soon you will be.”
Then she mocked me with her laughter.

Evening times I sit upon the hillside where the Cessna 210 went down. At times I see Sara. She looks younger, healthier then I remember. My heart aches when I look upon her and hear her laugh. Who is that man she is with? The girl sits with me at times but our lovemaking has ended. She leaves me at night and will not tell me where she goes. But I know.

As I gaze across the valley, up towards where old man Iverson lives, I vaguely catch a glimmer of a light flickering on and off in his bedroom. And I? I sit and stare. Alone amongst the wreckage.


THE END