The Pact
An Amanda Moonstone Short Story
By Dan Wright
By Dan Wright
Marcus dipped the cloth in the bowl, ringing it out so that it was slightly damp. He placed it on the top of Glenda’s forehead – which he could tell was burning up even before he put the cloth on her. The dampness of the cloth mixed with Glenda’s hot sweat, making the cloth feel warmer in his hands. She wheezed heavily, her breath coming out in snake like hisses. Glenda coughed several times, making Marcus worried that she would expel her lungs from her mouth.
“Drink this.”
He gently eased the bowl to Glenda’s lips, letting her slowly taste the cool water from it. Glenda sighed after drinking – but it did nothing to ease her mammoth thirst. All the water in the world couldn’t refresh her now.
“How am I looking?” Glenda asked.
The bags under her eyelids made Glenda look many years older than what she was, her eyes sunken into her skull and turned a pale yellow. Her flesh almost seemed as if it had been pulled over her bones to show more skeleton than flesh. “You look beautiful,” Marcus replied, forcing a smile.
Glenda wheezed in what passed for an attempt at a chuckle. “Liar,” she whispered. Glenda coughed several more times, each one was like a scream of the dead.
“Shh, easy now,” Marcus said, gently easing her back onto the pillow so that she was lying down. “You should get some sleep.”
“Yes,” Glenda whispered. “And… I hope I don’t wake up.”
“Don’t say that,” Marcus lightly snapped. “Don’t say such things.”
“But I want the pain to stop,” Glenda whined. “The pain… of being a burden to you.”
“You’re no burden,” Marcus said forcefully. “You were never a burden. Never ever.”
“I’m sorry.” Glenda tried to cry, but her eyes were so dry that not a single tear fell from her cheek.
“Don’t be,” Marcus said to her. “You will get better. I promise you. You will get better and we will look back at this and laugh one day. I promise you.”
“You… believe that?”
“I KNOW that!” Marcus leaned forward and kissed his wife on her forehead. “You should sleep now.”
Marcus left Glenda to rest, going outside the hut. The rest of the village had gone to sleep by now and the moon was at its peak. A more peaceful night there never was.
That was when Marcus let forth the tears he had been holding back. Whatever tears his wife could not shed, he shed in buckets.
He sat on the front of his porch, head cradled in his arms as he let all the frustration out that he refused to show his wife. He wanted to be the strength that she didn’t – and he if he couldn’t keep his cool, what chance was there for his wife?
Everyone had told him that it was no use. His wife’s illness was something that no one had ever come across before. They knew not what it was – or how she came by it. All they knew was that it was seemingly incurable. Nothing they gave her seemed to be helping.
But Marcus could not give up on Glenda. She was the best thing that ever happened to him. Before she came along, he had considered ending his own life for the shame he had felt. It was Glenda that helped him through it. She had always been there for him – and yet he couldn’t help her when she needed him the most. He felt so useless, so weak, so…
“Powerless?”
Marcus’s heart leapt and he turned to his right, a hand to the middle of his chest. “Dragons above!” he gasped. “You almost made my heart explode.”
The man to his right was leaning casually on the wall of his hut, seemingly blending into the darkness of the night. Marcus could barely make out what his face looked like, which was shadowed under the large hat he wore. “Um, sir?” Marcus stammered. “Forgive me, I’ve not seen you before.”
“That is because I am from of these parts,” the man in black replied.
“Oh,” Marcus said. “Where are you from?”
“Far away,” the man in black replied.
Marcus felt a strange sensation that he couldn’t explain. The only way he could possibly describe it to another was like someone had taken the heat from the air and replaced it with a cold, lifeless mist. Why he felt that only his subconscious knew. “Um, do you… require accommodation, sir?”
“I require no accommodation,” the man in black replied. “I am only here for one thing.”
A coughing sound made Marcus turn back to the house, his heart jumping.
“She is not in agony,” the man in black told Marcus very matter-of-factly. “Not much, anyway. But she will be very soon. I estimate it will be two days before the disease devours her life – if not tomorrow.”
Marcus turned back to the man in black, eyes widened in surprise. “Ex-excuse me?”
“Your wife,” the man in black said, slowly walking closer, walking through a ray of moonlight. It shone on him briefly, but did not show much of his features – save for a white mask over one side of his face. “She is dying.”
“How… how did you…” Marcus was so stunned that he could barely speak. He had only met this man tonight, how could he have known about his wife’s plague?
The air chilled further and his bones turned to ice as the man in black moved closer.
“Death is like a ferry,” the man in black said, his eyes trained towards the ground. “A long journey for some, for others – not so long. The length of time is irrelevant – the only thing that never changes, is the destination.”
He knelt down. Marcus followed his gaze. He appeared to be looking at the small flower patch outside his hut. Normally Marcus tended to these flowers like there were his own children – but the flowers had looked withered and sickly, an inch away from dying completely.
“Death is a release from pain, yes. But it is also a release from time. Time that we long for. Only when faced with death do we truly appreciate time – and wish that we had more of it.”
The man in black slowly waved a hand over the flowers. “However, many of us forget the obvious fact. The thing with ferries…”
Marcus’s eyes watched in awe as the flowers in the bed rose up, their petals turning a wonderful white and the buds a perfect yellow. Their stems turned a perfect green and leaves sprouted, as if they were stretching their arms after waking from a deep slumber. They became alive again – as if reborn anew.
“…is that you can jump off anytime you wish. If you have the desire to swim back to shore.”
The man in black turned to Marcus, the eye in his mask seeming to glint. Marcus’s skin had turned white, his body shaking and his teeth chattering. “You’re… you’re a sorcerer!”
“Sorcerer?” the man in shadow replied with a minute huff. “My friend, the abilities I have are beyond sorcery.”
Marcus stood up, pointing towards the man in black. Much like with a lot of Celtland, anyone who practiced magic were considered an ill omen – given the dangers of such a thing. The dragons themselves banned magic when The Age of Science began – and as far as Marcus knew there was no one who still practiced it. “I should report you to the guard!” Marcus stammered.
“You may do that,” the man in shadow said. His stoic nonchalance was chilling, despite the lack of emotion from him. “But if you do, you may as well put the pillow over your wife. Because the end result will be her ultimate fate.”
This caught Marcus’s attention. “What do you mean? You… you can save her?”
“That depends on how you decide,” the man in black replied. “But, in the interest of full disclosure, there will be a price.”
“A price?”
“To heal blood, we must first shed blood.”
“You mean… kill something?”
“Not something. Someone.”
Marcus put his hand to his mouth in horror. “There is no other way?”
The man in black stared at Marcus, the eyes of his white mask glinting once more. Marcus’s mind ran, trying so hard to process what the man in black was saying. And yet, the more he spoke, the less he seemed to question the reason behind it. Although, there were still questions he had to ask.
“Who… do I have to kill?”
The man in shadow gestured for Marcus – and he felt drawn to obey. He moved until the man in black was by his ear. He could not sense breath when he spoke, but he could hear the words more clearly. Marcus backed away, hand to his mouth again. “Why her?” he gasped. “She has done me no wrong!”
“Nor has she done you right,” the man in black replied. “She has not helped you cure your wife’s disease. Nor has she come giving you aid.”
“But… But… I… I cannot do this…”
“And I am not forcing you,” the man in black told him. “I merely am giving you an option. You need to decide which option you can live with.”
“I… I…” Marcus stuttered, his whole body feeling like it was about to fall apart. “I have never killed anyone before.”
“And you will never have to again,” the man in shadow told him. “And the blame will be placed on someone else. Your name will never be brought up in this.”
Marcus’s mind raced with so many conflicting thoughts. Marcus was a man of peace, someone who would never even think of harming anyone. He wouldn’t even harm a fly. And although the man in black said that his name will never be mentioned in all of this, that did not soften the blow.
He heard another series of coughs from his wife inside the house, each one becoming more vicious than the last. It was then that he remembered how much he loved his wife – and how he had vowed to help her no matter what. But was that worth this cost?
Marcus listened to both his head and his heart – both of them telling him different things. In the end, he knew who he had to listen to. “If I do this,” he sighed heavily, “will me and my wife be happy?”
The man in black’s eye in his mask glinted again. It was all going just as he had expected. “You will both live on and be happy. And your final embrace will be the warmest thing of all.”
“Drink this.”
He gently eased the bowl to Glenda’s lips, letting her slowly taste the cool water from it. Glenda sighed after drinking – but it did nothing to ease her mammoth thirst. All the water in the world couldn’t refresh her now.
“How am I looking?” Glenda asked.
The bags under her eyelids made Glenda look many years older than what she was, her eyes sunken into her skull and turned a pale yellow. Her flesh almost seemed as if it had been pulled over her bones to show more skeleton than flesh. “You look beautiful,” Marcus replied, forcing a smile.
Glenda wheezed in what passed for an attempt at a chuckle. “Liar,” she whispered. Glenda coughed several more times, each one was like a scream of the dead.
“Shh, easy now,” Marcus said, gently easing her back onto the pillow so that she was lying down. “You should get some sleep.”
“Yes,” Glenda whispered. “And… I hope I don’t wake up.”
“Don’t say that,” Marcus lightly snapped. “Don’t say such things.”
“But I want the pain to stop,” Glenda whined. “The pain… of being a burden to you.”
“You’re no burden,” Marcus said forcefully. “You were never a burden. Never ever.”
“I’m sorry.” Glenda tried to cry, but her eyes were so dry that not a single tear fell from her cheek.
“Don’t be,” Marcus said to her. “You will get better. I promise you. You will get better and we will look back at this and laugh one day. I promise you.”
“You… believe that?”
“I KNOW that!” Marcus leaned forward and kissed his wife on her forehead. “You should sleep now.”
Marcus left Glenda to rest, going outside the hut. The rest of the village had gone to sleep by now and the moon was at its peak. A more peaceful night there never was.
That was when Marcus let forth the tears he had been holding back. Whatever tears his wife could not shed, he shed in buckets.
He sat on the front of his porch, head cradled in his arms as he let all the frustration out that he refused to show his wife. He wanted to be the strength that she didn’t – and he if he couldn’t keep his cool, what chance was there for his wife?
Everyone had told him that it was no use. His wife’s illness was something that no one had ever come across before. They knew not what it was – or how she came by it. All they knew was that it was seemingly incurable. Nothing they gave her seemed to be helping.
But Marcus could not give up on Glenda. She was the best thing that ever happened to him. Before she came along, he had considered ending his own life for the shame he had felt. It was Glenda that helped him through it. She had always been there for him – and yet he couldn’t help her when she needed him the most. He felt so useless, so weak, so…
“Powerless?”
Marcus’s heart leapt and he turned to his right, a hand to the middle of his chest. “Dragons above!” he gasped. “You almost made my heart explode.”
The man to his right was leaning casually on the wall of his hut, seemingly blending into the darkness of the night. Marcus could barely make out what his face looked like, which was shadowed under the large hat he wore. “Um, sir?” Marcus stammered. “Forgive me, I’ve not seen you before.”
“That is because I am from of these parts,” the man in black replied.
“Oh,” Marcus said. “Where are you from?”
“Far away,” the man in black replied.
Marcus felt a strange sensation that he couldn’t explain. The only way he could possibly describe it to another was like someone had taken the heat from the air and replaced it with a cold, lifeless mist. Why he felt that only his subconscious knew. “Um, do you… require accommodation, sir?”
“I require no accommodation,” the man in black replied. “I am only here for one thing.”
A coughing sound made Marcus turn back to the house, his heart jumping.
“She is not in agony,” the man in black told Marcus very matter-of-factly. “Not much, anyway. But she will be very soon. I estimate it will be two days before the disease devours her life – if not tomorrow.”
Marcus turned back to the man in black, eyes widened in surprise. “Ex-excuse me?”
“Your wife,” the man in black said, slowly walking closer, walking through a ray of moonlight. It shone on him briefly, but did not show much of his features – save for a white mask over one side of his face. “She is dying.”
“How… how did you…” Marcus was so stunned that he could barely speak. He had only met this man tonight, how could he have known about his wife’s plague?
The air chilled further and his bones turned to ice as the man in black moved closer.
“Death is like a ferry,” the man in black said, his eyes trained towards the ground. “A long journey for some, for others – not so long. The length of time is irrelevant – the only thing that never changes, is the destination.”
He knelt down. Marcus followed his gaze. He appeared to be looking at the small flower patch outside his hut. Normally Marcus tended to these flowers like there were his own children – but the flowers had looked withered and sickly, an inch away from dying completely.
“Death is a release from pain, yes. But it is also a release from time. Time that we long for. Only when faced with death do we truly appreciate time – and wish that we had more of it.”
The man in black slowly waved a hand over the flowers. “However, many of us forget the obvious fact. The thing with ferries…”
Marcus’s eyes watched in awe as the flowers in the bed rose up, their petals turning a wonderful white and the buds a perfect yellow. Their stems turned a perfect green and leaves sprouted, as if they were stretching their arms after waking from a deep slumber. They became alive again – as if reborn anew.
“…is that you can jump off anytime you wish. If you have the desire to swim back to shore.”
The man in black turned to Marcus, the eye in his mask seeming to glint. Marcus’s skin had turned white, his body shaking and his teeth chattering. “You’re… you’re a sorcerer!”
“Sorcerer?” the man in shadow replied with a minute huff. “My friend, the abilities I have are beyond sorcery.”
Marcus stood up, pointing towards the man in black. Much like with a lot of Celtland, anyone who practiced magic were considered an ill omen – given the dangers of such a thing. The dragons themselves banned magic when The Age of Science began – and as far as Marcus knew there was no one who still practiced it. “I should report you to the guard!” Marcus stammered.
“You may do that,” the man in shadow said. His stoic nonchalance was chilling, despite the lack of emotion from him. “But if you do, you may as well put the pillow over your wife. Because the end result will be her ultimate fate.”
This caught Marcus’s attention. “What do you mean? You… you can save her?”
“That depends on how you decide,” the man in black replied. “But, in the interest of full disclosure, there will be a price.”
“A price?”
“To heal blood, we must first shed blood.”
“You mean… kill something?”
“Not something. Someone.”
Marcus put his hand to his mouth in horror. “There is no other way?”
The man in black stared at Marcus, the eyes of his white mask glinting once more. Marcus’s mind ran, trying so hard to process what the man in black was saying. And yet, the more he spoke, the less he seemed to question the reason behind it. Although, there were still questions he had to ask.
“Who… do I have to kill?”
The man in shadow gestured for Marcus – and he felt drawn to obey. He moved until the man in black was by his ear. He could not sense breath when he spoke, but he could hear the words more clearly. Marcus backed away, hand to his mouth again. “Why her?” he gasped. “She has done me no wrong!”
“Nor has she done you right,” the man in black replied. “She has not helped you cure your wife’s disease. Nor has she come giving you aid.”
“But… But… I… I cannot do this…”
“And I am not forcing you,” the man in black told him. “I merely am giving you an option. You need to decide which option you can live with.”
“I… I…” Marcus stuttered, his whole body feeling like it was about to fall apart. “I have never killed anyone before.”
“And you will never have to again,” the man in shadow told him. “And the blame will be placed on someone else. Your name will never be brought up in this.”
Marcus’s mind raced with so many conflicting thoughts. Marcus was a man of peace, someone who would never even think of harming anyone. He wouldn’t even harm a fly. And although the man in black said that his name will never be mentioned in all of this, that did not soften the blow.
He heard another series of coughs from his wife inside the house, each one becoming more vicious than the last. It was then that he remembered how much he loved his wife – and how he had vowed to help her no matter what. But was that worth this cost?
Marcus listened to both his head and his heart – both of them telling him different things. In the end, he knew who he had to listen to. “If I do this,” he sighed heavily, “will me and my wife be happy?”
The man in black’s eye in his mask glinted again. It was all going just as he had expected. “You will both live on and be happy. And your final embrace will be the warmest thing of all.”