Light

I don’t remember much about this story, except for the obvious inspiration, which I really can’t get into, because it’s part of the story itself. But it’ll be obvious.

But I’ve always been fascinated by “those things” and all their “incarnations.” And I really do think it would be fun to, well, “live among them.” There is so much more I’d love to say, and maybe after I post this story I will do another post about them all.

But, for now….

This was originally published in the October 1991 issue of Tyro #32/33.

 

The Coming of Light

© F. P. Dorchak, 1991

 

Barrett Bartholomew James awoke, groggily.

In fact, he wasn’t at all sure he was actually quite yet awake, but more in that in-between, graying state between sleep and wakefulness. There was something entirely odd about the way things felt. Very odd…like he wasn’t all there…his more valuable pieces missing. He felt (in point of fact) like he was entirely someone else. In his body.

As he lay there, trying to figure out who was in what body—and whether or not he was actually awake—Barrett focused on the room. It gave him the feeling of being wrapped within the arms of a jealous lover. He felt as if he was…smothering…and very much wanting to be smothered. Spying frost on the windows—and noticing the fire in the hearth—he figured it was cold and wintry outside. He then directed his attention to the bed he was in and found himself adrift within a sea of billowy comforters. Rocking his head back, he floated upon huge, down-filled pillows…and there was a tingling in his ears that resonated in his head.

The fire cracked loudly, belching out a rather large fragment onto the hardwood patch of floor before it. The piece glowed quite brightly before momentarily before dying.

Should have had a hearth screen there.

Slowly Barrett came to the only realization that made any sense: that he was, in fact (most assuredly) himself…and that himself was (in fact) the very awake Barrett Bartholomew James.

Whipping off the comforters he swung out of bed and sat upright.

He was clad neck to toe in an archaic, almost comical pair of pajamas. With a chuckle he playfully fingered the material and got to his feet. He headed over to the heavily curtained window. His feet swished through thickly piled carpet that covered the entire floor except for the hardwood spot before the fireplace.

Wiping an opening on the clouded windowpane he peered out…and was greeted by the most pleasant illumination of gas streetlights…from a small but bustling snow-covered town square below. He was on the second floor.

“Where the hell am I?”

Padding back across the room he went to the mantel piece above the fireplace.

Pictures and trinkets, none of which he recognized.

The pictures ranged from the ancient to the current. There were families and there were singular moments. There were—

The bedroom door squeaked open.

“Oh, my! I’m sorry, sir! You’re awake!” It was a pleasant voice from an attractive and unassuming woman in her mid-thirties. He froze. Was caught in his jammies by a woman he didn’t know…in a house he recognized not.

“Who are you?” he asked, “and what is this place?”

“I’m Julie, Mr. James, I run the boarding house you’re in.”

“You know me?”

“Well, indirectly…I was told there would be someone new tonight.”

“You were told? What’s going on, here?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really—now let me give you your clothes and let you get ready for the evening. There’s dinner awaiting downstairs.”

Barrett watched her glide across the floor to his bed, deposit a set of cleaned and pressed woolen garments, then returned back to the door. He noticed snow boots had already been placed underneath his bed.

“You’ll find a full set of undergarments in the dresser over by the window,” Julie said, pointing. Barrett followed her direction, trying to keep up what little decency he felt he had left. It was tough doing so in garments that had a bomber’s hatch on the seat. “If there’s anything else I can do, please, don’t hesitate to call, Mr. James—”

“Please…’Barrett.'”

Julie smiled. It was a charming smile and Barrett felt his insides grow warm. Things didn’t feel right—they felt good—just not…right.

“Okay…Barrett…,” she said demurely, a thin smile across her lips. Turning just before closing the door, she again addressed him. “Mr. Jam, ah—Barrett—we’re all very pleased to have you join our community.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m pleased to have you.”

Julie quickly closed the door behind her as she left.

“God, if I didn’t know better I’d think she had a thing for me.

“Now, where’s that damned bathroom?”

 

Treading down firm but creaking stairs, Barrett made his way to the dining room. While in the shower things had begun to surface, though not much, but it was better than nothing. He remembered being a businessman of some kind from “The City.” New York City. He remembered being on vacation into the upstate region…but that was about it. He didn’t know if he had a wife, or a family—though he assumed so since he was wearing a ring, and a very meaty one at that. Maybe he was divorced, or widowed; he just didn’t know.

Walking through the house he smelled the aroma of cooking. Found the heat of another fireplace. And plants were everywhere, even covering one unused piano he spotted in a room he passed by.

Making his way through drapery adorned doorways, his weight caused the hardwood floorboards to squeak. In no time he found the source of the aroma…also finding the dinner table cleaned by the previous users, with but a single food-filled place setting awaiting.

“Oh, there you are,” Julie said, arriving at the doorway. “Please, sit down and eat, Mr. Barrett! I hope you don’t mind that the others have already come and gone, but what with the Coming of Light it seems there’s never quite enough time. Always much too much to do and no one seems to want to wait for anyone anymore, don’t you know!”

“‘Coming of Light’?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about just yet. You’ll see it all in good time.”

Barrett felt his head twinge…as if like a mild headache…but it quickly passed.

“W-what others?”

“Well, as I said, I run a boarding house. It is a most rewarding job, and I really do enjoy helping others relocate—”

“Relocate?”

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s a lot all at once, but please try to bear with me. Look,” she said, extending a hand and leading him to the table, “why don’t you first sit down and get some warm food inside—you haven’t eaten in who knows how long—then we can go out for a walk. It’ll invigorate and aerate and there’s still quite a few hours left before—well, you’ll just love it! We’ll have plenty of time to talk then. Come!” Holding back a smile Barrett allowed himself to be led. Her company really did seem to grow on him.

As he made his way to the table, images flashed through his head, but nothing solid enough for a mental lock. He was as a babe lost in the woods. Wincing a few more times, which Julie didn’t seem to notice, he looked at—really looked at—Julie. It was more than her company he liked—he found her to be quite attractive…especially dressed in her checkered apron and floor length skirt (why such formal attire for everyday wear?), and though he didn’t know her all that well, it was easy to see the openness and warmth her manner radiated.

But it was her eyes…large and warm…which really grabbed him.

He was totally captivated by her spell.

“Well, Julie, I must say—you certainly do have a convincing way about you.”

Julie blushed, bringing a lovely and delicately crafted hand to her mouth.

This was all too much—it was like some damned fairy tale. Nothing’s this perfect.

“You’ll be sure to explain this ‘Coming of Light’ during our walk?” Barrett took his seat at the table.

Julie’s blushing quickly gave way to a look of mixed emotions she quickly changed back to a smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really, “she said, “it’s just where the Nightfun ends and the Light comes.”

“You mean ‘dawn,'” he casually muttered, still somewhat preoccupied with the flashing images inside his head. He dug hungrily into the plate of food before him. “You really are a charming woman, Julie—from your mannerisms right down to how you express common everyday things.”

“Thank you, Barrett.” Again, the down-turned head, the endearing blush.

“‘Nightfun,’ huh.”

 

“…and over there is Pastor’s Church. Isn’t it simply the most beautiful building you’ve ever seen?” Julie asked, pointing a mittened hand.

“It is!” Barrett exclaimed.

It was all beautiful, every bit of it.

And it was snowing!

It was all too beautiful…too perfectly quaint and hometownish…and Barrett again felt that strange something shudder and rattle

(yes, rattle…)

through him—he felt it about the buildings, the people, the town’s atmosphere.

And it all felt disquietly familiar…as though he’d actually been here before…when he damn well knew he hadn’t. It was a tight little microcosm, an entire universe built around the confines of glistening snow and homey neighborliness. A picture-book life and times the way all life should be. Several people passed, surprisingly close, waving.

“Hello, Julie; Barrett! Wonderful weather we’re having, ayuh!” some positively friendly New Englanders greeted. And most New Englanders Barrett knew were not outwardly friendly unless they knew you. Grew up with you. Lived in the same town with you. Julie waved back, returning the greeting.

“Julie…now how did they know my name?”

Hands tight to the front of her jacket, Julie looked up at him with her large brown, positively hypnotic eyes. Something fluttered deep within him.

“Everyone knows you, Barrett. It’s a small town. Everybody knows everybody.”

Barrett found it harder to resist. She was a powerful magnet and he but an iron filing. What was it about this place…about her? He felt…pleasantly uncomfortable….

“Huh? What? I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten my…question.” Barrett said, flushing a bright red. This is not like me, he thought. Not like me at all!

But what is me?

I don’t—or never used to, anyway—get butterflies in my stomach over a woman. I’m married, sure. Or used to be—or still am, or—I don’t know what anymore!

“God help me!” Barret blurted, hitting out a gloved hand at a light post. Frightened, Julie jumped back several steps. Passing pedestrians gave surprised looks, but quickly turned them into empathetic smiles and continued on. Eyes full of concern, her voice lowered, Julie came back to him.

“Barrett? What’s wrong? Is it something I—”

“No—I-I don’t know—but that’s the whole problem, Julie! Just where am I, and what am I doing here! How did I get here?”

Julie brought her hands up to Barrett’s knotted shoulders. She felt them suddenly relax and it brought an immediate smile to her face. Barrett took her face into his gloved hands. His resistance was quickly faltering.

“Is it so bad here?” Julie asked.

“No, but…where have I come from, what is this place, and who are you to have this power over me?”

Julie didn’t attempt an answer, but Barrett quickly lost interest in the questions and brought her face in closer. “Nobody has ever wielded such control over me. I haven’t felt like this in, well, in God knows how long….”

“Is it so wrong to feel so good? To feel the way you’ve always wanted to feel, Barrett—the way were all meant to feel? Why analyze everything? Why not just be. Just live.”

Barrett felt her warmth through his gloves. Felt the warmth of her soul, penetrating deeper, ever deeper into his soul and trying to bring out…something…and exploit it….

Her lips parted slightly.

Barrett spiraled helplessly downward.

CLANG-CLANG!

CLANG-CLANG!

It was the church bell.

“Oh! Come on, this is going to be so much fun!” Julie said, pulling away, head thrown back and arms flailing outstretched like a horizontal windmill.

“Why? What’s up?” Barrett asked, looking around.

Julie reached out for him, but then broke away, taking playful steps toward the convergence of townspeople still further up.

“Come on—it’s the skating competition! On Glass Pond! You going to just love it!”

Barrett regarded her with loving consideration, watching her skip off. She was so childlike, so full of energy and desire!

He started off after her…when something else caught his attention.

It was a sparkle…a flash of some kind.

Julie’s back to him, he diverted off towards the flash, to an area where the streetlights and the starless darkness beyond met. Beyond the gas-light haze. Something wasn’t right over there, just up ahead of him. There was an icy tingling playing up his spine as he continued forward.

He felt old aches.

Felt his movement becoming restricted, labored.

He was mere feet from the border when Julie turned, her face immediately draining of color.

“NO!”

She’d stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth a large “O.” A look of dread on her face. Bent forward, her hands were tucked forcefully down between her legs as if she’d had a painful stomach cramp. She repeated her command. Barrett didn’t just stop, he grinded to a halt, his mind’s eye envisioning a mile’s worth of burned rubber left on an open stretch of road.

“Barrett, no—please don’t!”

Barrett turned, frightened more by the unexpected terror in her voice than the actual situation itself.

“What’s the matter? I only wanted to see what was over there?”

Seeing that he stopped, Julie ran for him, arms quickly wrapping him in a tight bundle. Barrett again felt the butterflies.

“Julie,” he began, initially amused, “I didn’t know you cared!”

Julie hung on like a dying woman, her face buried into his shoulders.

“What’s wrong? I was only—you’re crying! My God, whatever I did, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!”

“I’m sorry—it’s not you, Barrett, but that…that area. It’s off-limits. It’s The Place of Endings…and nobody ever returns who ventures there. I’ve lost…others have been lost there.”

“‘The Place of Endings?’ Julie, you have to tell me what’s going on here—no more cute little euphemisms—I need to know what’s happening. I have to know.”

“I can’t, I—it was…a loved one. It was horrible. Later, please, Barrett, I really can’t go on.” She reburied her face into his shoulder.

“Julie, I like you very much, but I have to know—”

“—please, Barrett, I really…like…you, too, but the memories are too painful. Later I’ll tell you everything, I will, but for now let’s just enjoy ourselves. Please?” Julie’s crystal tears were of such purity that they felt like cold knives of despair ripping through him. He was helpless…he was hers….

“Okay. But after this skating competition of yours, we talk. Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

Glass Pond looked exactly like its name—shiny, smooth, and unmarked. Barrett was amazed at how reflective and clean the surface was and why there were hardly any marks made by the hordes of skaters flying across it. But possessed by an ever-widening grin across his face, he found himself casually responding to everyone who passed them by. And he did this by name—first and last names. He found that their names magically popped into his head and when he unconsciously began using them, they proved themselves correct. The townspeople were visibly pleased with him.

“Are you enjoying yourself more, Barrett?” asked one elderly couple.

“Why yes, I am, Mr. and Mrs. Greetallski. I really am! I’m finding this to be the friendliest town I’ve ever visited! And the Christmas spirit surely cannot be beat!”

“Well, we’re all very proud to have someone as prominent as yourself taking up residence here,” Mr. Greetallski said.

“And you certainly do add very nicely to the decor!” Mrs. Greetallski chimed in, her rosy cheeks and frosty nose bursting and wiggling with fervent holiday cheer. “He’s a great catch, Julie, be sure to keep on to him and don’t let him get away!” Mrs. Greetallski said to Julie as she leaned into her. Julie flushed into another blush.

“I could get very used to living here, you know,” Barrett said, once the Greetallskis had left.

“I could get very used to you living here,” Julie replied.

Barrett brushed away a few nothings from her face. More people came by, some running and throwing snowballs (one or two of which landed at their feet), and Barrett watched as they passed, their chanting ringing in his ears long after they had past:

“Get ready for the Light, the Coming of the Light! One hour, one hour to go! Get ready for the Light, the Coming of the Light—one hour to go, ho ho ho!”

Julie watched his reactions with a pounding heart.

“What is this—”

“—Coming of Light?”

“Yes! Why is it such a big thing to have the sun rise? Hell, it’s not even near dawn now! Look,” he said, pointing over to the other side of the Apothecary. “It’s dark, pitch dark. Except for the street light glare, there’s not even a hint of a rising sun!”

Julie continued to eye him…that look of confused and caring face. Barrett looked back up into the gas-lit sky. Snow had been falling fairly heavily ever since they had stepped out into the street, but there was hardly any accumulation—in spite of the fact that there was already a fair amount on the ground. Everything looked so perfect.

Planned almost.

Julie came up behind and lay a hand on his shoulder. Barret suddenly realized that he really didn’t care about who he was…or what this whole coming-of-light problem was. All he wanted now was to make his lips touch hers…to taste the firm slipperiness of her tongue and inhale the delicate scent of her breath.

“The Coming is at 6:05 in the morning…,” she began, coming closer.

“Six-oh-five? Exactly?”

“Exactly. There is no dawn, only light.”

Face to face he now felt her breath; felt a tingling; felt her shiver. He shivered.

“…only light…,” he repeated.

A particularly large snowflake landed between their mouths, perched for only a birth of a second before melting. Barrett felt a wellspring of emotion that had been coiled up within the both of them; felt the explosion that now took them away.

Teeth felt teeth.

Passers-by smiled.

He would fit in very nicely here, yes, indeed he would.

“I love you…,” Julie breathed.

“I…I love you, too, Julie.”

“Barrett, I couldn’t bear it should you ever leave! There is no one else here made for me!”

Barrett’s eyes squeezed shut. A lump blocked his throat.

“I won’t. I feel I can’t…but I won’t. I won’t even try.”

“You could; you almost did.”

“But, I won’t.” Then he looked down and noticed the wedding ring on her finger. “You’re my wife, aren’t you.”

“Yes, my husband.”

“But…but, how? You had no ring when we first met—in fact you called me ‘Mr. James.’ This is all too much, I…I’m not sure I can handle it.”

“But you will, my husband, you will! Your love is all, your love is enough. It is all that matters—nothing else does.

“It is time that we talk. Come, let’s walk.”

Julie led him away from Glass Pond and took him down a different street, passing Mrs. Goodall’s Mercantile & Dry Goods (Mrs. Goodall waving vigorously through the window as they passed). They then passed the New England Bank, a small tree nursery that was up on a hill (next to a water tower that boldly displayed “something Towne” around its reservoir, he couldn’t see the first word), a toy shop, village market, and more. Then they stopped. People were taking on more urgency to their steps, several still chanting about the Coming of Light

at six-oh-five

there is no dawn, only bright….

Only fifteen minutes to go!

“I still don’t understand this no-dawn part. Everyplace has a dawn, honey.”

“No, not every place, dear husband.”

“And you mentioned ‘6:05’ like it happens the same time every day.”

“There is only light and dark, my husband. Look.”

The two turned, and Barrett followed Julie’s mittened hand. He followed it to a simple white-painted wood building with an unobtrusive sign hanging above a window.

Barrett James & Company, Realtors.

“T-that’s me!”

Julie raised a gloved hand to his mouth before he could continue further.

“Come, we have only a little more to go. Brace yourself, husband, for what is to come next. Your love for us—this town and myself—will bear you through. Trust us.”

The two rounded a corner, and he found “Julie James Boarding House & Hostel.” In a lower front window rested a real-estate flyer bearing Barrett’s name. This time Barrett didn’t even bat an eye.

Together they walked up the wooden stairs and into the warmth and glowing that was their home.

 

A light switch flipped on, illuminating a small, novelty-clustered workshop. The owner, a bearded and slightly stooped man, entered, aimlessly throwing the morning paper down on a counter. Shedding his coat, he foraged about for several minutes, looking for something in particular. Going over to the cash register he took out a receipt box, one that had “Paid” written on the front in small, crooked letters and fished through it. Finding the object of his search, he took it out, giving it a sad glance before placing it on the table next to the paper. He looked at one of his clocks.

Six-oh-six.

Casting another grieved look at the paper and the bill he went back out the door.

The front page story, only part of which was visible past the tossed bill, read:

“Famous maverick stockbroker, Barrett B. James, predictor of Black Monday and Wall Street wunderkind died last night in a car crash in the Catskills. He and his family were said to be visiting relatives and friends for the holiday season. Local authorities claimed no one was at fault at the accident. It was a weather-induced accident, inches of snow unleashed in blinding force on already existing icy conditions. The James family could not be reached for comment. Mr. James was apparently en route from a shopping trip…”

Alongside the paper sat the bill of sale. “Barrett James, PAID, one complete Snow Towne village set. AMEX Gold card. To be delivered.”

Not five feet from that table sat a lower display, on which sat Snow Towne. In its center was Glass Pond. Along the edge was Pastor’s Church. The tree nursery was at the center of town, under the shadow of the water tower with the village’s name painted across it. Somewhere, between Glass Pond and Pastor’s Church, rested the porcelain buildings of Barrett James & Company, Realtors, and Julie James Boarding House & Hostel.

All through the village the lights were down…and everyone lay snug in their porcelain beds, dreaming, and waiting for the next cycle of the Coming of Light….

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