Fiction

Atlernate Lives

Pavelle Wesser

Catharine skipped along the wooded path in her wooden clogs, swinging a basket by her side. She emerged from overhanging branches into a clearing where she came upon a fallen bird, its wings spread in silent salute to the sky above. Catharine cradled the bird within the folds of her coarse, brown dress. It moved slightly before opening its eyes and looking at her. Smiling, she placed it on a soft bed of pine needles, in the hopes that when it recovered, it would fly back to its nest.

“Be well, my feathered friend.” She made the sign of the cross and continued on her way, singing.

She felt light as air and free as the wind. Catharine could not have known that on this day like any other, things were about to change. Her life was spinning quickly within the vast web of the space- time continuum and was about to become entangled with that of her alter-ego.

Kristal lost control of her mother’s Acura while speeding down the freeway.

“No!” She screamed, before colliding with a utility poll.

She stopped screaming and was met with silence. She tried to turn but her leg was pinned under the steering wheel.

“Mark?” She called for her boyfriend.

He didn’t answer. She twisted her neck as far as she could and saw him, slumped over the dashboard, unresponsive.

“Mark!” She yelled, “I broke my leg! Call 911! Do something!”

Kristal twisted in pain. She was sweating and her long, brown hair had become tangled and was plastered to her pale face. Why wouldn’t Mark help her?

An image rose in her mind of a girl who resembled her, skipping along a path while singing. She closed her eyes, relishing the fleeting moment of solace the vision provided.

Catharine stopped skipping as her thoughts turned to her mother, who had recently taken ill. She offered a silent prayer to the Heavens that all would be well.

“Oh, no!” She cried, as a bird fell from the sky, landing at her feet. It looked like the same one she had carried into the woods only minutes before.

“What ails you, my feathered friend?” The bird squawked as though in answer. Again, she carried it to a bed of pine needles.

“Be well,” she murmured.

Though Catharine never wavered in her faith that everything God’s universe had a purpose, she knew she could not pretend to understand what it was. The Almighty wove a vast tapestry, in which she was merely a spec of color. She was content with her place in life, which she had never before questioned. She commenced humming, and became aware of a strange whirling sound inside her head.

Swirling lights were accompanied by the sound of sirens on this brilliant summer’s day, though Kristal neither saw nor heard, as she had lapsed into unconsciousness. She came to at the hospital, where her mother’s eyes burned into her:

“You are trapped within a living Hell, Kristal.”

“Enough, Ma! Go find out what’s happened to Mark!”

Clouds darkened and a cold rain descended, pelting Catharine. She wrapped her arms around her waist as a bird dropped at her feet.

“Whatever has befallen you?” She asked the bird. In response, it set its hawk-like gaze upon her and emitted a sound akin to a shriek.

Suddenly scared, Catharine began to run. Blisters erupted on her heels and she clenched her teeth. Home seemed further and further away.

“Though he may test my faith,” she cried, “I shall follow.”

Her long hair came lose from her bonnet and was whipped wildly by the wind. Her eyelids fluttered and a vision came upon her of a girl resembling herself, screaming and twisting in pain. Something in the girl was broken; Catharine surmised it was her spirit.

“I met with Mark’s parents.” Her mother’s face was pinched and pale. “He’s still not responsive.”

Kristal started to cry.

“I hope this teaches you a lesson,” her mother hissed.

“I wish you’d go away and never come back,” Kristal spat at her mother.

Just then, a nurse entered to take Kristal’s vitals.

“Are you all right, Ma’am?” She stopped to ask the girl’s mother, who looked ghostly and ill.

“How did I fail so miserably with my daughter?” The woman looked despondent.

“Have faith,” the nurse said kindly, “and all will work out.”

When she left, mother and daughter remained alone with their silence.

Catharine burst through the door of her hut. Her sister, Theresa, turned:

“Pray tell, where hast thou been? Mother has turned for the worse.”

Catharine looked to where her mother lay on a pallet.

“She was asking for you,” Theresa said, “before she collapsed from the visions.”

“Of what visions dost thou speak, Sister?” Catharine asked.

“Our mother claimed you had changed in frightful ways.” Theresa said, sadly.

“You do not say.” Catharine’s eyes were distant.

“Aye, I hear the doctor’s horse.”

As Catharine ran to the door, another vision flashed before her of the girl, lying on a clean, white bed, looking rested yet still unwell.

“Boooring,” Kristal sighed as she surfed the channels. If only her leg weren’t suspended in mid-air, she could go see Mark. She’d heard he’d come out of ‘it,’ whatever ‘it’ was. She stared wistfully outside her window to a flock of passing birds.

“How could something as perfect as nature create someone as messed up as me?”

A vision flashed before her of the girl running across a dirt floor, looking distressed and yet somehow serene. The birds continued their flight through the azure skies. Kristal stared after them in wonder.

Within the darkened shadows of the church, Catharine knelt before the statue of Christ on the cross and prayed, clasping her hands:

“In You, my Lord, is eternal light.”

Warmth spread through her.

“Go home, my child.” Was that Mother’s voice?

“This is my true home, Mother. This is where I belong.”

Kristal limped from the hospital and into the waiting car:

“Nice set of wheels.” She commented.

“I borrowed it from my uncle.” Mark smiled.

Kristal stared out the tinted glass windows. “I’m ready for a wild ride.”

“Take it easy. You’re still recovering.” Mark reached out, but Kristal shoved his hand away. The coldness of her eyes as she stared at him contrasted with the sadness on his face.

“Let me drive!” She demanded.

“You really shouldn’t...”

“Shut up, Mark! Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.”

“You never did take ‘No’ for an answer, Kristal.”

Mark exchanged seats with her and sat back. Surely Kristal would drive safely after all she’d been through. He kept his eyes tightly shut in an effort to get a grip on his nerves. Already she was going too fast. He didn’t dare look, even when the sound of squealing tires sliced through the air, followed by a swerving sensation as the car lost control. There was the inevitable impact of a crash, then nothing, but the sound of his screaming, alien to his own ears:

“NO!”

Silence.

Did he dare look? Did he have a choice?

No! He had to do this!

He opened his eyes and turned. She was draped perfectly still over the steering wheel, her face pale as alabaster, one dainty hand poised on the dashboard, as if ready to serve tea. Of course, her tastes had never been so innocent. Her eyes were closed as if in peaceful sleep, but the deep, dark circles underneath told a different story. Looking at her now, Mark was sadder than he’d ever been before. He was also very scared.

“Kristal!” He reached out to touch her. She didn’t recoil. “Kristal!” She was as cold and pale as a marble statue.

In his mind, he heard her saying: “Shut up, Mark,” over and over again. He was sorry that one phrase stood out above all else. He hoped that wherever she was going next, he’d given her something endearing to remember him by.

“Kristal,” he cried, shaking her in a final effort at revival, “Kristal, wake up.”

For her part, as Kristal’s head impacted with the vehicle, splintered white light exploded in her brain, mirrored within which was the image of the girl, kneeling before a Christ statue. From a million miles away, Kristal recognized the girl’s purity of spirit, and moved towards its brilliance, knowing that she was closer than ever to Home.

The cold dampness of the church’s stone floor sank into Catharine’s knees as she knelt to pray. Now she stood, preparing herself for her long walk home in the dark. At the church’s threshold, she turned one last time and crossed herself. As she did, fragments of white light entered her soul, mirrored within which was the image of the girl, whose eyes had changed.

They were no longer hard and calculating but instead expressed warmth, as if she were willing to accept God’s truth. Catharine dropped back to her knees and prayed fervently. Her temples pulsed so feverishly she felt herself about to explode. The girl’s essence fused with her own, and she knew she was complete.

“Catharine!” Theresa’s voice echoed in the distance. “Where art thou’? Mother awaits you.”

From a million miles away, Catharine opened her eyes: “Aye, I am whole again.”

Catharine limped toward Theresa who stood at the base of the church’s steps.

“Your leg, Catharine: Wherefore didst thou get hurt?”

“It will heal in time enough, my Sister.”

As they made their way along the path, a bird that blocked their way turned its hawk-like gaze on Catharine.

“Shoo. Shoo.” Theresa waved.

“Methinks it needs my blessings.” Catharine reached out and stroked the bird’s feathered wings. Lifting its beak to the skies, it offered the sweetest of melodies before flying off.

“Strange,” said Theresa, “birds do not normally sing at night.”

Catharine smiled serenely: “God’s world offers endless surprises.”