[Two to Write] Night's Final Hour - Chapter 57
Benjamin Delacroix “If you don’t take care of yourself, the undertaker
will overtake that responsibility for you.” - Carrie Latet
“If you please, sir,” I try to maintain a calm sense of being as I
address Scott once more. “There is only one way in which we will
accomplish your goals.”
“And that would be?” Mr. Stevenson asks with a distasteful attitude.
“Simply put, the way in which we will accomplish your goal is by
starting with mine. As I have previously explained to your dimwitted
mind, Miss Ivy has an indeterminable amount of time in which she can be
saved. You, in comparison, have no time in which you may be saved. Your
time has come and gone; what you had, you wasted and now you must wait.
As soon as I have tended to Miss Carter’s matters, then, I assure you,
I will help you go about settling your affairs -”
“For someone who’s supposed to help me find the afterlife and move on,
you sure aren’t the nicest, are you?” Scott’s voice interrupts me once
more and I consider his words.
“Mr. Stevenson, you must understand, I do not intend to be unjust or
brisk in your matter. In truth, I do care more for Miss Ivy’s
predicament than I do for your own, but, I wholeheartedly believe that
this would be the case with most anyone besides yourself. You and I
both have knowledge of how you wasted the life you once possessed. It
will not be an easy task; helping you settle your loose ends. I do not
know whether Miss Ivy can outlast that. Dealing with your affairs will
be time consuming and difficult so it will have to wait.” As I speak, I
watch as Mr. Stevenson begins to comprehend the words I’m telling him.
He nods slowly and I allow myself a small smile. “What do we need to do
to help Ivy?”
“Her body, her life line, must be somewhere within in the town limits.
The last instance when I saw Miss Carter, she was on her way to see a
good friend, Miss Maggie. The very best of my predictions would be to
say that she has ended up in the hospital, quite possibly on some form
of life support.” Mr. Stevenson points in the general direction where
one would find the hospital and I nod before we begin our trek.
It was the only possible solution. Miss Ivy’s body and physical being
was being held to one plane by machines while her being manifested in
this plane, believing it to be her time to move on. She was not the
first unghost I had encountered, but she was the first that I wanted to
help back to the other plane. It would be a lie to say that I believe a
body and its spirit can be separated and then reunited; I do not, but
then again, it would be a lie to say that I do not hope it can be done.
***
Our unnatural ability to move around quicker than the corporeal allowed
Mr. Stevenson and myself the opportunity to reach the hospital in only
a few moments. For the most part, the hospital was bare. Scott, who has
yet to learn how to become corporeal himself, followed closely behind
me as we made our way through the silent and somber halls. Upon
reaching the central nurses’ station, I realized how Mr. Stevenson
could function as an asset on our endeavor. With a general glance in
his direction and back to the patient records, he understood my meaning.
“Are you quite certain that no one in this hospital requested a
transport to the Bromwell Barn?” My continuous reference to the
desolate property bewildered the head nurse as she checked and
double-checked her files.
“Isn’t that the barn that all the kids say is haunted?” She asked,
making sure she knew what I was talking about.
“I believe it is indeed, m’am. I reckon it would be a rather odd place
for one to be transported to, but that certainly is what was written on
my orders.” Twirling a pencil between my fingers, I watch as Mr.
Stevenson holds up a file, grinning.
“I don’t see anything about the Bromwell property in my notes, let me
just -”
“You have been an awful lot of help, m’am. I suppose it would be in
both of ours best interest if I just ran back and double checked my
orders before we continue to search for that patient. Does that sound
alright to you?”
She smiles and I can see the relief in her eyes. Not only will she
finally be ridding herself of this crazy visitor, she will not have to
ask her bosses about a ridiculous transport request. “That sounds nice
to me.”
Scott scurries over to me and shows me the file of Miss Carter. Written
in the plain and unusually legible handwriting of a doctor, are the
words I had hoped not to see. Miss Ivy is in more trouble than she knew
and the only comfort I can find to appease myself is the fact that I
know where I am headed. Only one ward in this hospital deals with
traumatic head injury.
Night's Final Hour by Crystal and Pamela MacLean is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United
States License.
will overtake that responsibility for you.” - Carrie Latet
“If you please, sir,” I try to maintain a calm sense of being as I
address Scott once more. “There is only one way in which we will
accomplish your goals.”
“And that would be?” Mr. Stevenson asks with a distasteful attitude.
“Simply put, the way in which we will accomplish your goal is by
starting with mine. As I have previously explained to your dimwitted
mind, Miss Ivy has an indeterminable amount of time in which she can be
saved. You, in comparison, have no time in which you may be saved. Your
time has come and gone; what you had, you wasted and now you must wait.
As soon as I have tended to Miss Carter’s matters, then, I assure you,
I will help you go about settling your affairs -”
“For someone who’s supposed to help me find the afterlife and move on,
you sure aren’t the nicest, are you?” Scott’s voice interrupts me once
more and I consider his words.
“Mr. Stevenson, you must understand, I do not intend to be unjust or
brisk in your matter. In truth, I do care more for Miss Ivy’s
predicament than I do for your own, but, I wholeheartedly believe that
this would be the case with most anyone besides yourself. You and I
both have knowledge of how you wasted the life you once possessed. It
will not be an easy task; helping you settle your loose ends. I do not
know whether Miss Ivy can outlast that. Dealing with your affairs will
be time consuming and difficult so it will have to wait.” As I speak, I
watch as Mr. Stevenson begins to comprehend the words I’m telling him.
He nods slowly and I allow myself a small smile. “What do we need to do
to help Ivy?”
“Her body, her life line, must be somewhere within in the town limits.
The last instance when I saw Miss Carter, she was on her way to see a
good friend, Miss Maggie. The very best of my predictions would be to
say that she has ended up in the hospital, quite possibly on some form
of life support.” Mr. Stevenson points in the general direction where
one would find the hospital and I nod before we begin our trek.
It was the only possible solution. Miss Ivy’s body and physical being
was being held to one plane by machines while her being manifested in
this plane, believing it to be her time to move on. She was not the
first unghost I had encountered, but she was the first that I wanted to
help back to the other plane. It would be a lie to say that I believe a
body and its spirit can be separated and then reunited; I do not, but
then again, it would be a lie to say that I do not hope it can be done.
***
Our unnatural ability to move around quicker than the corporeal allowed
Mr. Stevenson and myself the opportunity to reach the hospital in only
a few moments. For the most part, the hospital was bare. Scott, who has
yet to learn how to become corporeal himself, followed closely behind
me as we made our way through the silent and somber halls. Upon
reaching the central nurses’ station, I realized how Mr. Stevenson
could function as an asset on our endeavor. With a general glance in
his direction and back to the patient records, he understood my meaning.
“Are you quite certain that no one in this hospital requested a
transport to the Bromwell Barn?” My continuous reference to the
desolate property bewildered the head nurse as she checked and
double-checked her files.
“Isn’t that the barn that all the kids say is haunted?” She asked,
making sure she knew what I was talking about.
“I believe it is indeed, m’am. I reckon it would be a rather odd place
for one to be transported to, but that certainly is what was written on
my orders.” Twirling a pencil between my fingers, I watch as Mr.
Stevenson holds up a file, grinning.
“I don’t see anything about the Bromwell property in my notes, let me
just -”
“You have been an awful lot of help, m’am. I suppose it would be in
both of ours best interest if I just ran back and double checked my
orders before we continue to search for that patient. Does that sound
alright to you?”
She smiles and I can see the relief in her eyes. Not only will she
finally be ridding herself of this crazy visitor, she will not have to
ask her bosses about a ridiculous transport request. “That sounds nice
to me.”
Scott scurries over to me and shows me the file of Miss Carter. Written
in the plain and unusually legible handwriting of a doctor, are the
words I had hoped not to see. Miss Ivy is in more trouble than she knew
and the only comfort I can find to appease myself is the fact that I
know where I am headed. Only one ward in this hospital deals with
traumatic head injury.
Night's Final Hour by Crystal and Pamela MacLean is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United
States License.