MAY 1, 2018
Harbinger
The 75th episode of my #WordCountPodcast story was inspired by the book Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones and this picture:
My story inspiration
Richard provided yet another winter theme. This time, it also contained an image of a black wolf. Though I’m not sure how harmful wolves are to humans, we’ve nonetheless associated them culturally with a sense of danger. In dream analysis, contact with a black wolf is supposed to bring bad luck, much more so than crossing the path of a black cat.
Only after I wrote this piece did I learn about the symbolism of black wolves in dream life. For this reason, I titled my story “Harbinger.”
You can also listen to me reading the story on episode 75 of R.B. Wood’s podcast.
Hope you enjoy.
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He’s old enough to be my grandfather, but I feel a strong connection to Paul. I just wish I had met him years ago. No doubt, things would have turned out differently for me if I had. Until Paul, I never thought I could trust a man again. I’m happy I met him, even at this stage in my life.
“What did you see in your dream, Jessie?” Paul asks.
I contemplate my latest nightmare, which I wanted to share with him. “I see death, as I have for sometime, only last night’s dream was more vivid. Death is evil and it has a face now.”
Paul furrows his brow. “A face? Like an assassin, you mean?”
“No, more like the devil, but he wouldn’t look like how we think the devil looks, you know … that horny, red-faced creature carrying a pitch fork.” I let out an awkward laugh at the unintentional double-entendre. “I don’t mean horny as in sexually … you know … you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know. The devil is hardly the archetype of evil for you.” His kind eyes show no judgement.
I’m grateful for someone like him in the world. “You have a good memory, Paul. I told you I was an atheist at our very first meeting, didn’t I? How long ago was that?”
His notebook sits on his lap, but he doesn’t open it. “Eight weeks ago, and thankfully you’ve been my only client during this time. Regardless, you are difficult to forget, Jessie. You must know that.”
I shrug. “I suppose.” I cactus out my arms and raise them in a yawn.
“These nightmares are keeping you up, aren’t they?”
“Yes, I wasn’t able to fall back to sleep last night.”
“Tell me about it,” Paul says. “If it’s not the devil you see in death, what is it then?”
My eye suddenly twitches and I instinctively blink hard to stop it. “Damn eye! It’s been jumping around like crazy since this morning.” I place my hand over the eyelid to stop the spasm. “Isn’t there some folklore around a twitchy left eye?”
This time, it is Paul who shrugs. “I think it just means you’re tired and need rest,” he says. “You were about to tell me how you see death in your dream.”
“Ughhh!” I press the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. “Bad news. I’m sure a twitchy left eye means bad news is coming. Hah! Like I didn’t know that already!”
“Jessie …” Paul leans in and places a reassuring hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to be,” he says. “Take your time.”
I offer him a tiny smile. “Time, how I wish … my dream, yes … In my dream, death is a wolf in a coat of shiny, black fur. His eyes are tiny but pierce right through me. He bares his fangs.”
Paul looks concerned. “Does he harm you?”
“No,” I say, “but last night’s dream was all about the chase. The wolf chased me through an open field of knee-deep snow. It was freezing cold, and I kept running, but I knew I would not be able to outrun him. Sooner or later, he would catch me, and I would succumb.”
Paul nods, as if what I’m saying is perfectly normal. “Go on.” He urges me.
“Not much more to tell really. I ran until I ran out of breath, and then I woke up.” Tears stream down my face. “It’s the end, and I’m alone.”
The man in front of me lowers his eyes and discreetly slips the notebook into his coat pocket. “Jessie, get some sleep. I know it’s not easy, but it’s the best thing for you right now. Give your body the rest it deserves.” He holds my shoulders and wipes the tears from my cheeks. “I’ve been given clearance to be with you tomorrow and every day after that. You won’t be alone, I promise.”
***
Three days later on the newswire:
Australian national, Jessica Rae Martin was executed this morning on an island off the coast of Java, Indonesia. She sat on death row for almost a decade, her time served at the Denpasar Women’s Penitentiary after a conviction of drug trafficking.
Father Paul Johnson, a Catholic priest and staunch opponent of capital punishment was Martin’s spiritual adviser. He was with her in the days leading up to her execution. “Up until last week, we held out hope that Jessie’s execution would be commuted to life imprisonment. Instead, we were told only 72 hours ago that she would be put to death.”
When asked how he felt about being the only person for Martin in her final moments, the elderly priest appeared visibly shaken. “Jessie came from a broken home, but she was a bright spark and a model prisoner. She was not a bad or evil person, just a person who made a mistake. For that, she paid with her life, and it is not right.”
Father Johnson was given three minutes to console Martin before she was tied to the execution poles and shot by firing squad. She was five days shy of her twenty-ninth birthday.