The Gift

The heat had been unbearable. In the small rusted old truck, a young man delivered packages underneath the heavy sun. The small fan on his dashboard couldn’t compensate for the thick humid air that pressed against his skin.

It was the last package of the day and a moment of relief. A long day's work always brought the reward of finally laying in his twin sized bed. A luxury that not many believe is still a luxury.

He stopped in front of the last house on the street. As he looked at the brown paper package, there was an address but no name. Only the words “To: Your Self.” He grabbed the mysterious package and saw the gothic house that shrouded any light. It’s wood was chipped and broken while vines and weeds covered the lawn.

With each step, bugs scattered across his feet, making him move from a cautious walk to a frazzled jog. He tripped up the stairs, looking as the door of the house began to open by itself. He took a step back, but then he felt the air. There was a cold breeze coming from the house. It smelled like a night of snowfall, and he could feel the sweat from his cheek dry with the cooling air. This was his chance to get out of the heat for a few. As he walked in, the door slammed behind him, like a beast eating it’s dinner.

Nervous from the loud slam of the door, he walked through the house with the package in hand. The sound of a piano played in the distance, and red velvet covered the walls and rugs. He continued to walk down the candle lit hallway, mesmerized by the music and cool air. He eventually saw an entrance to a room with the shimmering light of a fireplace calling his attention. The young man followed the music, and with a single creek from the floorboards, the music stopped.

He gasped and started to turn around.

“You can come in.” A voice from the room called. “I’ve been waiting for you all shift.”

With a small amount of panic, the young man quickly turned the corner to see a woman standing near the fireplace. She wore a blazer, slim pants, and cat eye glasses. All of her clothes were white and on her back appeared to be some kind of feathered wings.

“What did you say?” The young man was defensive.

The woman pointed to a chair in the room. “Sit.”

He looked confused but her words cut deep into his mind. He sat down and placed the package on the adjacent coffee table.

“Andrew Smith, I presume?” He was shocked she knew his full name. “Born in New York, currently employed as,” she sighed, “Well there’s the problem.”

“Who are you?” He said with angst.

The woman flapped her wings to illustrate their authenticity. “What do you see me as?” She smiled at the entertainment of her own question.

The young man furrowed his brow. “Are you an angel?”

“Interesting.” She was flattered. “ Technically I’m a being from the fourth dimension, but usually I try to appear in a form that fits a familiar aesthetic.”

“If that’s true, show me the fourth dimension.”

The woman scoffed at him. “Can you make a picture of a tree talk?”

“Sure, if you animate it.” Andrew replied.

She was intrigued by his response, then tapped him on his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, she went from being in front of him to being behind him. There was no noise, no movement, only a single tap. He shot up from his chair, knocking over the table with the package.

“Impossible. How did you do that?” He looked at her with astonishment.

“I animated myself.”

His voice was shaking. “Who are you?”

She walked from behind the chair and sat him down. She picked up the table and put the package in his hand. “I’m here to help you.” She opened up the package and light began to escape. All the colors of the spectrum hovered around them in a beautiful array of lights and shapes.

“What is this?” He said looking at the display of raw energy.

“It’s your soul.” The woman was amused by his anxiety.

The young man’s head focused on the package and he started to reach his hand out to it. The woman closed the wrapping and put the package between her chest.

“Give it to me!” He said with a voice that echoed the room.

“If I do, what would you do with it?”

He calmed his piercing eyes as he realized he didn’t have the answer to her question.

Her face was illuminated by the glow of the hearth. “Are you happy with your life, Andrew?”

The only noise throughout the room was that of the crackling wood. He stuttered to say any words at first, and then began to tear up. “I need you to give me my soul back.” He never thought he’d have to say words like that before. His perception of reality was creating new meanings as each new event occurred.

“You used to paint.” She looked down on him, while he rolled his eyes. “You used to dance, you used to create. What happened?”

He nodded his head in disagreement. “Hobbies don’t pay the bills.”

“And neither does a soul.” She replied, wrapping up more of the paper.

The young man panicked. “Why are you doing this?” He could feel the intense pressure of his soul being so close to him. He could hear the faintest of singing. “You want me to paint, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything, just,” he took a deep breath, “I just know I need that.”

The woman nodded with a face of apathy. “Why did you stop?” She was probing his brain, trying to unleash his emotions. The connection between him and his soul.

“My work wasn’t paying the bills.”

She scowled at him. “If you want your soul, you need to be honest. I cannot give you what you’re not willing to want.”

He shot up out of his chair. “You stole it in the first place!”

The fire dimmed and the woman’s eyes glowed a bright amber. Her wings turned black and her veins started to pop. “You will sit down and be respectful.” Her voice held two tones, one of a light hearted angel, and the other of a deep cynical demon.

In that split moment, he took a step back, and her complexion was back to normal. She walked up to him and put the package on the table. “I did not steal your soul, I found it.” She paced around the young man, annoyed at his attempt at intimidation. “I found it lost between dimensions, trying so desperately to find its owner. The person that chose bills over love.” She gave him one final long look. “Take your soul and leave my house. If you lose it again, that’s none of my concern.” She walked off into the hallway and as soon as her physical self was out of view, the sound of her footsteps had left as well. Almost as if, there was nothing behind the wall but a void.

He swiftly opened the package and looked inside. In a bright flash of light, colors and shapes began to latch onto him. There was a harmonic ringing in the background. He smiled at all the vibrant colors and lights, but then the ringing began to change. He saw deep into the package, and the shadow of a child was reaching out. It’s darkness covered the glowing light, and black silhouetted tentacles grabbed onto the shapes and pulled them into the child. The young man panicked as the tentacles latched onto him and began pulling him in as well. It was a struggle of shadows and lights, as they strobed throughout the room in his own personal turmoil. With a deep breath and a passionate push, the shadow child leaped forward from the package and wiggled its way into Andrew’s chest. He screamed trying to wipe off what was already a part of him. “Oh my god, what was that?”

The woman stood at the corner of the room. “It’s a promise.” She smiled, proud of his struggle. “Now get out of my house, and do what you love.”