Night's Embrace

The grey spirit hovered over the grey stones below, the gravestones dull in the fading light as snow swirled around them. He hovered over them like a mist, his tendrils embracing each one with the afterlife’s embrace as memories of the great beyond shimmered through his labored soul. The moon was full, and his duty lay before him as it did on every such occasion.

The procession of waiting people stood outside the gate beyond, on the winding path leading up the sloped hill. The churchyard and gothic church beyond it stood out like a lighthouse in the surrounding countryside, the vast, tilled fields laid out in patchwork as the church shone its invisible light for those in need to see in the greying light of day.

Outside, the congregation gathered like a small party of churchgoers, each with silver coins clutched in their hands as the sodden ground beneath them embraced them for its own, trying to sully their nervous grip. One elderly woman, wrapped in rags and wearing a shawl, made a sign of the cross as she muttered into the fading light, her voice trembling and indistinguishable murmurs filling the air around her.

The other party members looked on in uncertainty, shifting eyes darting at each other as the setting sun cast an eerie light through parting clouds further ahead. A young man, all of twenty, wearing a long, black overcoat, his face, white as snow, looked uneasily ahead, his medium, brown hair drifting across brown eyes in the wind. He made eye contact with a young woman of a similar age, a short distance away.

She wore long, brown, curly hair, tied in a knot, green eyes meeting his as her innocence mingled with the snow which swirled about them. They smiled for the briefest of moments before a wailing cry was heard from the woman in the shawl. She clasped her arms around herself as a man went over to her, offering to help. He wore a flat cap and farmer’s attire, but she was no easier to avail than a wailing child desperate for her mother, and she knelt to the floor, praying to the heavens above.

Rain fell in irregular intervals, mixing with the snow, as she opened her eyes to the grey clouds which spoke little of mercy or justice, just shades of grey as tales were spun in a mighty tapestry. No room for judgment, just the life of one’s own heaven, hell, or something in between playing out as the world grasped for pity in time’s eternal wake.

Rain helped soothe the burn, empathy washing over her as a woman grasped her, helping her up as they leaned into each other, the congregation now huddling against a fierce wind which pounded at them like gusts on a stormy sea. Then, through an oncoming snow wave, the young man stepped forward, seeing the gate of the churchyard open as the grey spirit, a hooded figure, whose tendrils flickered in and out of view, beckoned the party in.

He looked at the young woman who nodded, and he led the party in, huddling against the oncoming wind as the spirit’s tendrils flapped against them, each not feeling them but feeling the emotion which soothed them for the first time in a long time. As they moved in, each dropped their coin, as was the custom on the sodden ground below, the soil swallowing it up; each penny now displayed in the spirits tendrils as it racked them up like buttons on a coat.

They dangled, reflecting the light from some unknown source as yet seen in the material world as the party huddled among the tombstones. The grey spirit shimmered along, the gate closing behind them as it approached all, seeming to grow larger.

The party said nothing, their eyes wide, each pleading for some semblance of sanity as the spirit widened like a cloak, and the sun began to dip on the horizon. Lights could be seen in the distance as pathways of light, star trails beckoned off at the edge of the cemetery. The place grew darker as each grave was illuminated, fairy lights dancing in the dark as each coin glowed anew in the spirits fluttering tendrils.

It continued to say nothing, and each felt an embrace on their cheek as being gently held as the spirit motioned for them each to follow the pathways that led off the cemetery edge, seeming like iridescent runway lights glowing in the darkness.

The young boy followed the older, shawled woman, closing his eyes as darkness overcame him and all went black, save for a solitary, distant figure, now growing closer in the dark, which now flickered like a black and grey animation.

“Mother?” He asked, venturing to see her in the blackness. “Yes, my love.” She called out, her form being visible but flickering subtly like a flame as she seemed to wear clothing of a different age - time having no meaning here.

“How are you? I never thought to see you again…” “Nor I, my love. How is your father?”

He looked solemn. “He is well but wishes you were here. We all do. The cousins miss you and speak fondly of you. I….”

“It is fine, my darling; I wish to be there too, but alas….”

“Where we tread, few from here must venture to head?” He asked, eyes gleaming.

She nodded, almost sadly.

“I miss you terribly.” She softly murmured, an image of them playing when he was a child being projected behind her. “As do I,” he replied, tears showing on his face. She tried to move forward, but neither of them could, two figures embracing between them, translucently as they felt the embrace between them.

“That shall suffice, I suppose,” he replied, feeling the distance close between them.

“That it shall,” she replied, and he closed his eyes, smiling, as images of happier times flashed through his mind as she shimmered in and out of view.

“I will give you the memories I possess, my love, of our time together, here and now; your dreams will do the rest, the bearers of time. Try to remember them if you can; they will help.”

He nodded.

“I... don’t have long to live, mother, as you may know...a few years, at most...now, much shorter.”

He looked down in pain as his mother tried to reach out to him.

“I know, my love, ’tis the price we must all pay for this transaction. I paid the same to see your brother, many years ago….”

He wept silently as she motioned with her hands, drying the tears.

“The ferryman must be paid.” He nodded bitterly, her form flickering like a flame.

“Yes, my love. Your brother is back here with me, but...he cannot join you. Perhaps if you come back again….”

“With what time I have left.” He smiled, the tears flowing down his face. “I will, mother, I will.”

She smiled, and the figures embraced again in the middle, the young man feeling the embrace as if a breeze blew gently across his being.

“Your brother sends his love. He tells you that...it was not your fault, the accident.”

He smiled but looked sad. “I feel though it was, mother, alas I tried, but could not….”

“No child,” she replied, an invisible hand wiping away his tears. “You did your best, now he is in God’s love, all is love, and you will be here with me soon when the time comes.”

He nodded, and the image began to shimmer as he realized the time was nearly up.

“When shall I see you again, mother?” He asked, almost desperately. “Soon,” she replied, “very soon.”

With that, she blew him a kiss as a young boy rushed beside her, and her light faded again, the young man left in darkness again, only a white light now illuminating his face as the graveyard lights began to appear in the distance, and he walked the star path back to it, feelings lingering as he walked on.

As the congregation appeared from their paths like pilgrims from long journeys, he looked at the spirit, the coins gone, as he nodded. “How long?” He asked as he walked by. A voice, indistinct but soft as a whisper, said, “One year.” And that was all; the young man nodded and joined the congregation, which now huddled in the starry night.

He looked at the night sky as the radiant stars twinkled brightly. One shone exceptionally bright as a tear ran down his face as he turned to face the old woman with the shawl. She now looked bright and clear, the starlight shining in her eyes as she turned to him.

“All’s well?” he asked silently. The woman nodded and smiled. “All’s well” and closed her eyes, the wind now blowing gently, her smile radiating from her face as he smiled in return. The young woman from before reached out to him as he looked at her hand. He took it, and they smiled at each other, hope for the future rekindling within both as the grey spirit beckoned them to the gate.

The farmer had tears streaming down his face, and they marched in procession to the gate, time standing still on this peaceful night; its embrace awaiting their shortened lives; enriched as they were by magic and the promise of sweet returns to love and life on the other side; dreams being the bearer of memories to be returned and journals to be written in the twilight of nights eternal grace.

The young man looked back at the distant church, the spirit barely visible as the stars shone through it, smiling as he headed off down the path, hand in hand with his love, who tied their union in love and beauty as the fields beyond welcomed their warm and loving embrace.