Hey guys, so I hope you’re ready for Part 4 of The Black Box. Last week Eretha Boseman felt compelled to call her two nephews, James and Freddy, to come get the box and dispose of it. But just after Freddy was woken up by the phone ringing early that morning, and was trying to figure out what she wanted him and his brother to do, he could hear something terrible was occurring happening on the other end of the line. Here’s a taste…

“But now, as Freddy and James Bohannon sat across from one another, across from the one person in the world they trusted the most, not only because of blood or because they were twins but because of all they had gone through together, they realized they were sharing an experience that neither of them wanted or knew what to do with; fear.

“The sounds,” said Freddy, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s when the sounds started. And then Auntie was gone.”

James didn’t ask what the sounds were because he didn’t have to. All he had to do was look at his brother.

“So you think she just hung up the phone? Or you think…”

“She didn’t hang up that phone, man. She didn’t have a choice. She didn’t have a choice.”

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Hey guys, so I hope you’re ready for Part 3 of The Black Box. Last week Eretha Boseman got a closer look at that strange black box that was dropped off on her front porch by an unmarked van she saw disappearing around the corner after she opened her door, and she doesn’t like what she sees. Something just wasn’t right about that box. Or about the van that delivered it. This week, Eretha feels compelled to call her two nephews, James and Freddy, to come get the box and dispose of it. But just after Freddy picks up the phone and is trying to figure out what she wants he can hear something terrible is happening on the other end of the line…

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Hey guys, so I hope you’re ready for Part 2 of The Black Box. Last week Eretha Boseman heard somebody knocking at her front door in Palmer Woods, and whoever it was, they were knocking hard. Insisted that she come to the door for a special package delivery.

This week she gets a closer look at that package, and she doesn’t like what she sees. Something just isn’t right about that black box. Or about the van disappearing around the corner that delivered it…

Table of Contents

So starting this week I’m gonna do something a bit different. I’m gonna start from the beginning.

I started writing The Black Box last year, thinking this would be another longer form short story like the others I had written for AfroFantasy Detroit, like The Egg and The Witch. Both of which I’m very proud by the way.

But as I continued to write, and as the story continued to evolve – which means as the story began to tell me where it wanted to go – it became increasingly clear to me that this one wanted to be a novel. Whether or not it will be a shorter or longer novel yet I’m not quite sure, but definitely a novel.

But not only did I start to see that this story was going to be longer than the others; this one was going to be something special. The Black Box is different. It’s strange, I think in a way that reflects my love for Clive Barker stories because it touches on themes like religion and death in a way that might be uncomfortable for some. This is to say that The Black Box isn’t for everyone, but then my intention has never been to write stories that appealed to everyone. My intention as a writer has always just been to release the stories inside of me. Because I have to. I feel like all writers, male or female, exist in a constant state of pregnancy because as soon as we deliver one story another one is being formed.

But more on that some other time. Back to The Black Box. Starting today I’m gonna return to Episode One and share it with you as an audio chapter and every week I’ll share another chapter in audio format until we reach the end of the story together. Doesn’t mean I will stop writing. I don’t even know how to do that. Last week I left you with Part 34 “The Twins Down the Rabbit Hole”, and this week I will be working on Part 35, wherever that leads me. But this will give us a chance to revisit how this all got started in the first place and then hang on for wherever we end up.

Come aboard.

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I couldn’t believe James would choose a time like this to bring up some dumb shit I told him when we were kids that didn’t even halfway apply to the nightmare we were in right now. What the hell was ‘don’t look back’ even supposed to mean right now, and how was that supposed to justify him shoving me from behind into the mouth of this thing? What kinda twin would do something like that?

For what seemed like the longest time after I got sucked through that portal into total darkness, I probably should have been feeling afraid, but all I was feeling was pissed off at my brother for pushing me into this box without giving me any sort of warning. That was just bullshit. Did he stay behind to wait and see what happened to me before he decided whether he was gonna follow behind? I’ll bet that’s what James did, and I was determined the minute I got outta this thing he better not be nowhere I could find him because there was gonna be one less twin in this world once I…

But then it was over, and the first thing I noticed was James hadn’t chickened out after all. He was standing right beside me inside this brownish-colored square room - a really big room - that was the brownish color of snot. I don’t know why that’s the first thing came to my mind when I looked around at those four walls then up at the ceiling, which was about three feet above our heads. But that’s what it looked like, and those walls didn’t look like anything I would wanna lean up against. They looked damp, and not in a good way. The light in the room was dim, but whatever light there was I couldn’t tell where it was coming from because there were no lightbulbs or fixtures or anything like that. But then…

“You see those doors, Freddy?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, James. I see them.”

James’ arm was raised as he pointed at the three doors that had just appeared in front of us. They were spaced evenly apart, at least it looked like the amount of space between them was even, maybe three or four feet, and they didn’t look like they belonged in a damp room with walls made out of snot-like material. These were fancy-looking doors, carved out of some beautiful dark wood, like mahogany, and each of them had these elaborate carved designs etched all over them. I got a chill when I recognized some of those designs as being the same as what I saw embedded on the outside of that black box we had just stepped into. But in the center of each door was what looked like a symbol - a different one for each door.

The door on the left featured a design kind of like an octopus, but with all of its tentacles stretched out to where they were pulled taut, making it look more like a star with eight points, except stars don’t have huge heads in the center, and I’m pretty sure no octopus has a massive eye in the center of its head. When the eye blinked I jumped back.

“Holy…”

“Yeah, I saw that shit too. But look at that door in the middle,” said James.

It was a mouth stretched open wide, too wide. I couldn’t tell whether it was smiling or screaming, but judging by where we were I could guess. And I wasn’t guessing it was a smile.

Finally I looked over at the image on the front of the third door, and at first it made me feel a bit more calm. Or at least less like I needed to run out of there in a damned hurry. It was a large peacock with the head of a woman. She had sharp green eyes that appeared to be made out of precious stone, and they were focused on me. She was smiling.

“Come closer,” she said.

Without even thinking, I took a step toward that door when I felt James seize my arm like a vice. I looked over at him, and he was shaking his head.

“Look away,” he said. “Now.”

“But James…”

“You should come closer,” she said again, only this time there was a more seductive quality to her voice. And this time she was looking at James too.

“Both of you.”

Back to Part 33

Table of Contents

C’mon, babe. We ain’t got a lotta time, and we don’t want to keep them waiting. That’s not good. Don’t worry, the twins will be on their way soon enough.

James and I looked at each other, and I wondered if he saw the same kinda fear in my eyes that I saw in his. All this time I was the one had been trying to make him see that voice we heard coming out of the box was Auntie Ree. Or maybe I meant make him admit it to himself. Because I knew the minute we both heard that voice we each recognized it as only belonging to one person, even if James didn’t want to admit it because what admitting something like that might mean. Because what do you do when reality doesn’t mean anything anymore? How are you supposed to adjust to all that when you don’t have any time to adjust?

But then when we heard Uncle Simon tellin Ree that the twins will be on their way soon enough? How in the hell could he be saying something like that? How could he possibly know where we were gonna be? Did he know where we were right now?

And wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

“Freddie…? That’s…”

“I know who it is, James.”

I didn’t have to wonder anymore about whether he saw that fear in my eyes because I knew he did. But there was something else bigger than fear. Maybe it was because we were twins, or just brothers, but we both knew we didn’t have a choice anymore. Because sometimes life puts something in front of you, and you know you can’t walk the other way or try and work your way around it. You just gotta go through. James and I could feel the pull, almost like a magnet tugging at you from your insides as we watched the door on the side of the box stretch itself open even wider like a hungry mouth.

Normally that by itself would have been enough to chase me off, and that’s for real. Watching and hearing the way that metal door twisted itself all out of proportion, screeching and groaning like it was alive, was some scary shit. But then there was this aroma that came at us, and it smelled like…like cinnamon?

I mean, it doesn’t make any kind of sense, something smelling that sweet coming out of a door to a black box that looked like it was hand delivered from hell. Delivered from hell right to the front porch of our aunt’s house in Palmer Woods. Just like it didn’t make sense that the whole time we were there, we didn’t see or hear anybody else from the whole damned neighborhood. Matter of fact, we didn’t hear anything at all. Except for that box.

Once the door had finished stretching itself all out of proportion, all we could hear were a scattering of echoes and murmurs reaching out from whatever was contained inside that box. I could feel my stomach clench tight, and I took a step back, looking around at the neighborhood that used to seem so familiar. But then the scent of cinnamon became stronger, and I found myself taking one step, and then another, toward the yawning mouth of that door. James was behind me, and just as I got to the door I started to turn around…I don’t know…maybe to see if we were doing the right thing?

I felt the shove of his palm as he pushed me through.

“You always taught me never look back, Freddie. Remember?”

Back to Part 32

On to Part 34

Table of Contents

It was the way she laughed that made Nathan begin to relax, in spite of the way she looked. The sound of small glass bells he had always heard in her voice whenever her laughter spilled out over the fullness of her lips. And yet there was that certain thing, that undefinable bond, that comes to exist between two people who have shared one another’s lives, bodies, hopes and dreams over so many years that comes to serve as a more reliable recognition of identity than mere surface appearance or voice.

And it was this exact thing which lit up inside of him when Joan laughed, that let Nathan know his Joan was in there somewhere. Without a doubt she had been changed, and not just in appearance. Most likely it was as she said; she couldn’t remain the same and remain alive.

If that’s what she was.

“Yes, Nathan. It really is me. I’m glad you finally recognize your wife.”

Normally this was the sort of humor that would make Nathan laugh, but this time it wasn’t funny. True enough it was Joan - or at least enough of her for him to acknowledge - but there was still a yawning gulf between them. Far too broad of a chasm for him to to feel comfortable reaching out to her or pulling her close into an embrace. Even if she had looked the same as he remembered…

“But you still have questions,” said Joan, as if reading his mind.

Nathan started to ask how, but in that same instant decided it wasn’t important. Whether she had truly read his mind or whether Joan’s ability to predict her husband still existed over all this time and altered space, there were much more important questions.

Joan backed away slowly, her body drifting above the floor as if succumbing to the push of a breeze Nathan couldn’t feel. Once she came to a stop, she folded her arms, a motion that triggered another memory Nathan had of his wife in an earlier time. Had she done that on purpose?

“I suppose the first question you want to ask me is why do I look the way I do, and not the way you remember.”

Nathan shook his head.

“No. The first question I have is how are you still alive? When you die, you’re supposed to die. But here you are. I mean, you don’t look like you; you’re you but not you. But still, here you are. Not in Heaven, and not in Hell either. Someplace else. But where?”

Joan smiled sadly.

“You never did believe in Heaven or Hell, Nathan. Neither one of us did.”

Nathan could feel the anger and confusion surging inside of him like a storm tide, and the hardening tone of his voice reflected the change in weather.

“Yeah, well maybe not. But I think we figured there at least was something else. A better place maybe. Is this supposed to be it? You live your whole life, do the best you can, and then wind up looking like you until the end of time? Is that supposed to be the reward for a life well-lived? Because I’ll be honest, I was expecting better.”

Joan’s head dipped as she covered her face with her fingers. Immediately Nathan felt sharp pangs of regret.

“Joan, I didn’t mean…I just…”

Joan shook her head, pushing forward the palm of one hand in a gesture indicating he should be quiet.

“You have every right. You didn’t ask to be here. This wasn’t a choice you made.”

“But then how are you here, Joan? Because ain’t no way this could have been a choice you made either, right?”

“But I did.”

Nathan felt the air flee his lungs as he squinted his eyes, hoping this might give him better focus.

“What?”

Joan’s extended hand dropped to her side as she removed the other from in front of her face. The pleading in her eyes was intense, almost maniacal.

“They want to make the world better, Nathan. For all of us. And they want to give us the choice between life and death, which was something we never had before. Can you only imagine if death wasn’t something you had to accept anymore but that you had a choice? But they can’t do any of this without us, especially you because you’re Eretha’s brother and she is so important Nathan, because Eretha carries the seed of Mary and…

“Joan.”

“…it’s because she carries that seed that she is the key. But it’s all of us. And Eretha is here! Eretha is here too and…”

“Joan.”

“…they need the twins too.”

The silence dropped between them like a weight that wouldn’t move until Nathan finally spoke.

“What have you done, Joan? What have you done?”

Back to Part 31

On to Part 33

Table of Contents

Before Nathan had a chance to say anything else, The Choice crumbled into particles of gray dust that swirled slowly about the room for nearly a minute, as if seeking an exit, before disappearing altogether into the wall. He stared at that spot for a long while before turning back around in his chair where he noticed his glass was again full of water. He shook his head.

“This is fucked up.”

But not so fucked up that he wasn’t willing to drink the water. His mouth was dry, almost parched, plus he hadn’t had anything to eat in awhile. With all that had been going on, food hadn’t been the first thing on Nathan’s mind as he tried to adjust to his entire world being turned inside out in such a short time. But now his stomach figured it was time to remind him that more than a few hours had passed since his last meal. What had that meal even been? Did he have a sandwich? He remembered there was some tunafish left in the frig. Some soup too. Maybe he juist had a candybar.

He couldn’t remember.

“He’s kind of strange, I know, but you’ll get used to him. It took me awhile, but evetually I learned how to adjust to his ways. Or maybe it was just me getting numb to being down here in this strange place for so long.”

Joan.

Nathan had finished the refilled glass of water and placed it back on the table when he heard her voice. Same as the last time he’d heard it, the voice was recognizable as belonging to the woman he had loved since they were kids, and yet there was something missing. It was as if Joan’s voice had been reconstructed using some form of artifical intelligence; capable enough to replicate the tones and inflections, but not able to recreate the warmth that had been earned by her years existing as a human being.

“You sound different, Joan. Like you, but not like you.”

“I’ve been gone a long time, baby. Even though we were married, that much time can put some distance between the way someone sounded and the way you remember.”

“Not that much distance.”

Nathan heard a heavy sigh, a sound that tugged at his heart. It was the sound Joan always made after they’d had an argument and she just wanted to be done. Once she sighed like that, he knew whatever they had been arguing about was over, whether he had been able to make his case or not.

He started to turn around to face whatever had become of his wife.

“Stop.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t turn around.”

“But why…”

“Because you’re not ready. You already think you have the answers in your head, even if you think you’re bringing me questions. You need to really listen to me, Nathan. And you need to accept who I am right now, and why, not try and criticize or judge me because I’m not exactly who you remembered. Just because I’ve changed doesn’t mean I’m not me. Just means I’ve changed, and I’ve changed because I had to make a choice.”

Nathan determined he wasn’t having this discussion with his wife with his back turned, whether or not she thought he was ready. He didn’t usually listen to her advice when she’d been alive - even though he probably should have - so why would he start now?

But when he turned to face Joan, he realized this was another one of those times when heeding her advice may have been the smarter decision. Because the incorporeal being he now saw hovering above the floor in front of him was something that made his chest seize up, as if he were suffering an attack.

“Dammit Nathan, you never could listen.”

Joan drifted closer, a grayish blue arm reaching out to place her hand over his chest. Nathan’s eyes grew wide as he tried to back away but he was hardly able to move as the pain around his heart grew more intense. When he looked down at Joan’s arm as it pressed first against - and then through - his chest, he noticed he could see through her arm to the floor below.

But then the pain began to recede. And as it did, Joan eased her hand out of her husband’s chest. She lowered her face, which looked as if it had been fashioned out of gray clouds and mist, until it was just inches from Nathan’s. She smiled.

“Would it matter if I told you there would have been an easier way to do this? But then that wouldn’t have been Nathan’s way, would it?”

“Shit, Joan. It really is you.”

Back to Part 30

On to Part 32

Table of Contents

More than anything, Nathan wanted to feel the warmth that his late wife’s voice had always made him feel, from the day they first met until those last few questioning words she uttered before he found her body sprawled on the livingroom floor. There was something about the way Joan said it, sweetness, that made it sound as if that one word wasn’t meant for anyone else in the world but him.

He wanted so badly to feel that way now. He needed to feel that way now. After all these years struggling to navigate the world without her, struggling to raise the twins without the balance of her softening touch. He tried so hard to ignore the sense of warning his spirit was trying to tell him, a warning that brushed aside the replayed memories and assurances of trust and familiarity, because whatever this was it was not his Joan. This was something else entirely.

Then came the sound of something placing enough weight on the stairs below that they creaked and groaned in complaint. That first sound was distant, which let Nathan know they reached deep into whatever that darkness held. It was accompanied by that wet, fleshy dragging sound, as if whatever was coming up the stairs was pulling something heavy along behind it.

But then, as whatever this was continued upward, step by step, the stairs complained less, and whatever was being pulled along behind must have detached itself as Nathan heard the sound of a heavy object tumbling down the stairs until it landed back on the hard surface below with a loud slapping noise.

By the time The Choice reached the top of the stairs, its form was the same as what Eretha had witnessed at her first meeting, an awkward being fashioned from wrong angles and unrecognizable materials that weren’t meant to fit together in any sort of harmony. It was short, shorter than Nathan by a good foot or more, and the look in its eyes, which were nothing more than twin holes drilled into the face, appeared somewhat sad and tired.

But then it smiled, and gestured toward the table and chairs.

“Please. Sit. I know this must be confusing for you.”

Nathan said nothing at first, preferring not to answer yet another unreality that he had encountered in such a brief span of time. The one question he couldn’t get out of his mind was why in the world had he been chosen for this? What had he ever done?

The Choice nodded sympathetically.

“I hear your questions and I understand. Perfectly sensible, and that is what I would want to know as well if I were in your situation. Which is why I am asking you to sit. Please.”

Nathan frowned.

“How did you…?”

“I could answer that, and I will, but I don’t believe that is really the question you want to ask me right now.”

Nathan stared at the improbability of The Choice for a while longer before allowing himself to take the few steps forward from where he had been standing and take a seat at the small table.

“There’s water,” said The Choice. “And please don’t be afraid. Despite all that you have seen and experienced, it really is just plain water. I have no reason to poison you, or to lie to you. Only if you’re thirsty of course. No need to drink if you’re not…”

Nathan grabbed the glass and swallowed its contents in three large gulps, not putting it back down until it was empty. The Choice smiled wider.

“Well I’d say that’s a start.”

“I heard my wife’s voice.”

“Yes. You did.”

“She called me sweetness, which ain’t no way you could have known because that was just between her and me.”

“Yes.”

“So then where the fuck is my wife?”

The Choice, who had remained standing at the top of the stairs throughout their initial exchange, now decided to take his seat at the table. His smile that perverted the definition of the word remained.

“I believe you were there when your wife died, isn’t that correct?”

Nathan felt a surge of rage rising up from his gut, but he managed all the restraint he had to keep it in check and not allow it to rise any further. This, after all, was not his territory. And first rule of the fight game was not only to know who you were fighting but to know where you were fighting if you weren’t in familiar surroundings. And these were the most unfamiliar surroundings he had ever seen.

“You know I was,” he said.

“And I am very about your loss and what that did to you. But you must also therefore realize that your Joan, the Joan you knew, can no longer be exactly who she was. The way she was. That is, for her to continue to exist. Changes were necessary.”

“I heard her the first time. Which makes this confusing, and I don’t like to be confused. Is this all some sort of trick to use me for something? Or did that voice I heard really belong to my wife?”

“It is not a trick. She has been changed out of necessity, but not by much. As you will see. But it is also true that we do plan to use you. You deserve the truth so there it is. We knew that..”

“We…?”

“Not important right now, Nathan. Please focus on what is important. We knew that the only way to get you to pay attention, to hear what we had to say, was through your wife. I believe that was made clear to you earlier.”

“I’m betting you could have just forced me. Right? I mean, if that’s what you really wanted.”

The Choice shook its head, feigning a sad expression. Or maybe it was for real. How could he possibly tell?

“No. I am afraid not. Just because we are strange to you does not mean we are all-powerful. Not yet.”

“Wait. Wait…what? What do you mean not yet?”

“Joan will be here shortly.”

Back to Part 29

On to Part 31

Table of Contents

The memory of Joan’s dead body on the living room floor disappeared suddenly, as if someone had turned it off. The darkness returned for an extended time before Nathan was eased back into the surreality of his present day surroundings. The massive black box appeared larger than before, both in height and circumference, pressing against the ceiling which now appeared higher than he remembered. The strange symbols and glyphs embossed across its metallic surface spun and played back and forth as if working to unlock a code.

The door to the box was open wide, beside which the Noctus stood silently. Expectantly.

He waited to hear Joan’s voice once more, to confirm her request. But all he heard was the echoing wind that reached out to him from a seemingly impossible depth contained within.

“And if I don’t?” said Nathan, looking directly at the Noctus feeling more anger than fear.

There was no answer.

“Right.”

Nathan took two long strides toward the box, inhaled deeply, then stepped inside. He heard the door clang shut behind him, then turned to watch as the outline of where the door had been erased itself, leaving nothing but a blank copper-colored wall lit by…

Where was that light coming from?

Wherever the origin, the light was weak, more like what he would have expected from a candle or a weak bulb. Except that there was neither a candle or a lightbulb of any sort that he could see as he turned around full circle to try and get some sense of his surroundings. What he saw was that he was standing inside what appeared to be a featureless rectangular room with a low ceiling no higher than a foot above his head. At the far end of the room was a small table accompanied by two wooden chairs, one at each end. There was a small glass of water placed in front of each chair on the table. Behind the table was a set of stairs that descended into shadow.

“Hello?”

His voice came out flat, and he wondered what had happened to the echoing sound that he had heard earlier, a sound that had to have come from somewhere much, much larger than where he was right now. No way could all those echoes and other strange noises have originated from this plain-looking room.

“Joan? Hey.You told me to step inside and now I’m here. So what is it I’m supposed to do now? Was that really you or was that another trick?”

A dry hissing noise rose up from the shadows at the base of the stairs, followed by what sounded like something very heavy and slick pulling itself across a hard surface. Toward the stairs? Nathan reflexively took a step back, even though he had nowhere to go.

“Shit. I’m gonna die in here.”

He recognized the giggle that greeted his stark end of days declaration, yet at the same time he recognized it as being off, like a familiar musical instrument that was just enough out of key.

The room wasn’t cold, but he felt a chill.

“Sweetness.”

Back to Part 28

On to Part 30

Table of Contents

The scene at first was somewhat hazy, an imprecise vision where unfamiliar shapes hovering just outside his view disappeared or morphed into something else altogether the moment he turned his head to see what it was he thought he may have seen, only to see whatever it was - or wasn’t - fade away.

“How…?” he mumbled, his lips finding difficulty in pronouncing even such a small word.

And then, like the curtain on a stage, the haze was lifted.

Nathan remembered this day, but he couldn’t remember how he had been returned here.

He and Joan were sitting side-by-side on the grass in a couple of folding chairs on Belle Isle. They were holding hands, each of them wearing shades and matching sunhats as they gazed out at the Detroit river sparkling in a playful dance of sunlight and diamonds not more than 20 feet away. There was a gentle breeze soothing their skin. Nathan could hear the laughter of the two small children playing off to his right as their parents set up a small tent, and the more distant sound of a boat making its way through the waves.

“Don’t worry about how, sweetness. That doesn’t matter for now.”

Joan’s voice had a tinge of echo, as if it were coming to him not through the fullness of her lips but surrounding him in an embrace.

“But are we really here?” Nathan asked.

“Of course we are, sweetness. Of course we are. Same as we were that day.”

Nathan felt a twinge of discomfort tug at his gut, maybe a warning? But soon as it came it disappeared into the comfort of memory, the memory of one of the best days he and Joan had ever spent together, enveloping him like a protective blanket. The pain of how much he had missed her, the emptiness that persisted like an open wound, was now being filled with a soothing warmth.

“How long can we stay?” he asked.

He felt her fingers squeeze tightly around his as she turned to face him with the most wonderful smile.

“Do we have to go back? I don’t know what this is, or how you did it, but I don’t care, Joan. I don’t care.”

Joan’s fingers gently disentangled themselves as she reached over to stroke his cheek, her smile becoming more sad. She shook her head.

“We’re here because this is how you remember me, Nathan. How you remember us. Because you deserve those memories. You’re a good man. I thought maybe if you could not only remember in your mind but be brought back to experience a place in time all over again where you felt how happy we were, maybe that would put you more at ease with what’s happening. With what it is that we have to do. But more importantly, I hoped it would convince you that this really is me and that you can trust me. Because I can tell you still have doubts, even after hearing my voice. Because you hear how my voice still doesn’t sound exactly right, the way only someone who knows someone else that well can recognize. And that’s OK. But our memories are ours, Nathan. The times we spent, both good and bad, belong to us. And no one else has access to those memories except us unless we allow it.”

Nathan turned away, closing his eyes. He mashed his lips together, as he always did when trying to hold back the anger that too often got him into trouble. Then he felt Joan’s fingers on his arm, landing softly like butterfly wings.

“We don’t have to go right now, though, sweetness. We still have time. A lot of time where we can just relax and be the way we were. Enjoy the love that we had, and still have. But when you’re ready, there is one more memory I need to take you to.”

Nathan felt his stomach grip like a fist, sensing what was about to come. A small tear leaked from his left eye, then dribbled down his cheek.

“Might as well go now. How can I enjoy any of this knowing I have to see you die all over again?”

Joan nodded in understanding, her fingers still resting lightly on his arm as the scenery around them began to slowly fade and melt, the colors and images running into each other like a beautiful oil painting that had been tossed into a fire. For a time, once the memory was completely gone, there was nothing but blackness and silence. The only sound Nathan could hear was his own anxious breathing. Then, slowly, the blackness began to decay until he was able to recognize his surroundings as their living room on that morning when he had found Joan’s body crumpled onto the floor, her legs caught in a strange pose, frozen in mid-stride of a sprint towards…

Where?

More tears streamed down Nathan’s face as he relived the breath-snatching pain of that moment, remembering the way she had called his name just before he entered the room. It had sounded like a question, like there was something she was about to ask him, but it also sounded a bit surprised.

And yet at this current moment he could feel Joan also standing beside him, even as he saw her body layed out before him at the exact time of her death. Her delicate fingers were once again entwined in his, same as they were on that perfect day spent together on Belle Isle. Except that this time her fingers felt cold, the texture dry and rough. Not like flesh at all but like something…else.

Nathan felt his heart beginning to race.

“The good and the bad, Nathan. The memories only you and I could know because only you and I shared them together. This is me, my love. Despite what your eyes will tell you. Now step inside.”

Back to Part 27

On to Part 29

Table of Contents

Stories of a Detroit you have never seen before...or maybe you just weren't looking close enough. Experience the Motor City through the lens of science fiction, fantasy and horror.
This is our 7th year in publication! And so many more stories yet to tell...

Now available at detroitstoriesquarterly.com,

https://www.pagesbkshop.com/

and https://books.by/app/bookstores/keith-a-owens

Praise for Detroitaphobia, my new book of science fiction, fantasy and horror short stories:

“In true Afrofuturist fashion, Keith Owen’s stories offer rare and intriguing perspectives on the African diaspora of tomorrow. With clarity, vision and enchantment, Owens superbly weaves an alternative reality for Detroiters who just happen to have ancestors from The Motherland. Call it sci-fi with a Motown edge and a beat that’s out of this world. “

--Denise Crittendon, Author of Where It Rains In Color

“Like Detroit, these stories are fast, no nonsense, and know how to catch you unexpected. They pull readers into the sidestreets, rhythms, and aspirations of an oasis outside the bounds of 8 Mile but fitting perfectly into the Twilight Zone.”

--Zig Zag Claybourne, author of Afro Puffs Are the Antennae of the Universe and The Brothers Jet Stream: Leviathan

“It has been a long time since I’ve read a collection of stories composed of such pure, simple, unadorned horror and eeriness. There is not a speck of guile herein, no frill, no cliches, no parlor tricks, no fakery. Keith Owens’ stories are long, gray, cobwebbed hallways that walk us straight into phantasms, nightmares, broken realities, and the appalling misfortunes that suffuse all of our hopes and desires. Keep your lights on, check over your shoulder, take out the ear buds and give one more good listen to the still night. Mr. Owens ain’t playing.”

-Reginald McKnight, author of He Sleeps and The Kind of Light that Shines on Texas

Here’s where you can pick up your copy today!

Now available at detroitstoriesquarterly.com,

https://www.pagesbkshop.com/

and https://books.by/app/bookstores/keith-a-owens

Praise for Detroitaphobia, my new book of science fiction, fantasy and horror short stories:

“In true Afrofuturist fashion, Keith Owen’s stories offer rare and intriguing perspectives on the African diaspora of tomorrow. With clarity, vision and enchantment, Owens superbly weaves an alternative reality for Detroiters who just happen to have ancestors from The Motherland. Call it sci-fi with a Motown edge and a beat that’s out of this world. “

--Denise Crittendon, Author of Where It Rains In Color

“Like Detroit, these stories are fast, no nonsense, and know how to catch you unexpected. They pull readers into the sidestreets, rhythms, and aspirations of an oasis outside the bounds of 8 Mile but fitting perfectly into the Twilight Zone.”

--Zig Zag Claybourne, author of Afro Puffs Are the Antennae of the Universe and The Brothers Jet Stream: Leviathan

“It has been a long time since I’ve read a collection of stories composed of such pure, simple, unadorned horror and eeriness. There is not a speck of guile herein, no frill, no cliches, no parlor tricks, no fakery. Keith Owens’ stories are long, gray, cobwebbed hallways that walk us straight into phantasms, nightmares, broken realities, and the appalling misfortunes that suffuse all of our hopes and desires. Keep your lights on, check over your shoulder, take out the ear buds and give one more good listen to the still night. Mr. Owens ain’t playing.”

-Reginald McKnight, author of He Sleeps and The Kind of Light that Shines on Texas

Here’s where you can pick up your copy today!

Now available at detroitstoriesquarterly.com,

https://www.pagesbkshop.com/

and https://books.by/app/bookstores/keith-a-owens

Nathan unfolded himself from his cross-legged position on the floor and stood up in a series of awkward motions, his eyes stretched open wide and filling with tears as they focused on the impenetrable darkness inside the open portal. For a long moment all he could manage was to stand in place, not certain whether he wanted to confirm what he was certain he had just heard; the voice of his dead wife. Because how was this possible? It wasn’t. It had to be some sort of sick prank being pulled on him by this Noctus creature that had begun to slowly expand and then contract in an apparent effort to breathe. Was this thing actually getting tired?

“Sweetness.”

It was as if he were being dipped into a pool of icewater. Nathan took a step backward, shaking his head, but still focusing his attention on the darkness of the portal.

“How…?”

“Because I knew it was the only way you would believe it was really me. And it is me, Nathan. You have to believe that. It is so important that you believe that right now before we see each other again. Because…because I won’t look how you remember, baby. They had to change me because…”

“They had to change you? Joan, if this is really you, then how much more could they change you? You were dead, years ago, and now you talkin to me from inside some black metal box that landed in my living room. And who is they? I don’t…”

“We hate to interrupt this reunion you two, touching though it may be. There is a higher purpose which will require both of you…”

“ What fucking purpose? What the hell do you want?”

“Nathan, please, don’t…”

Joan’s voice sounded pleading, almost scared. Nathan appeared almost electric in his sudden rage, his body vibrating and consumed with a dangerous intensity that threatened to consume his entire flesh, leaving behind nothing but a purity of white hot anger.

“Don’t what, Joan? This has not been a good day for me, OK? And now I’m hearing your voice and then these three things from another dimension somewhere and you’re telling me you don’t look like yourself anymore because somebody - or something - decided you had to be changed to look like something else. And what? You expecting me to just stay cool, calm and collected about all this? If it’s really you, that voice, then you know how long we was married before I lost you. Which means you know who I am, Veronica. You know who I am. And you know I can’t just sit still and smile for something like this.”

The trilogy of the Noctus continued its labored and exaggerated expansion/contraction of breathing - if that’s what it was doing - as it forced its three selves to merge and absorb into a singular entity resembling a repulsive blob of matter composed of mucus and mud. Nathan yanked his hands up from his sides and slapped them across his face to protect his nostrils from the overpowering stench that had suddenly become present in the room.

“What the…Jesus. What did you just do? You smell like…Jesus.”

“I require your attention, Nathan. Your full attention. I thought perhaps the long-lost voice of your beloved wife would deliver that attention, but it appears to have only sent you spiraling even more out of control and out of focus. But I can see even now that this particular aroma is erasing your distractions and recommitting your attention to what is necessary.”

“Man I will recommit to whatever the hell you want, just turn that stink off, OK? I can’t even think straight.”

The pungent aroma persisted for several minutes longer as Nathan was forced to calm himself down, and then the Noctus once again reconfigured itself from a mud and mucus blob pulsating in the corner into something that looked like a large dead tree branch sketched from black ash. The transformation occurred in an instant, from one frame to the next. Cautiously, Nathan eased his hands away from his face, his eyes fearful.

“What the hell are you, man? I mean really.”

“As I have told you before, we are the handmaidens of Death, our mother. We are the Noctus, and our existence is only to serve her. Now I believe I was explaining to you earlier about a higher purpose before you lost all control.”

“Still haven’t told me what you are, but whatever. Yeah. Purpose. Higher purpose. What about it?”

“They can’t answer you that, Nathan. They don’t know. But I can answer your questions, at least most of them, if you’ll let me.”

“Joan…”

Nathan’s voice was an ache.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this, sweetness. I am. But you can still trust me. You know I would never hurt you. Even now, as I am changed, I only want the best for you. And I just want for you to understand. I’ve been where you are, and I know how hard it is, but if you’ll just trust me we can get through this. Together.”

“I’ve always trust you, Joan. You know that. It’s just that…”

Shhh.

Back to Part 26

On to Part 28

Table of Contents

Nathan watched helplessly from his vantage point outside the unfolding scenario as he saw the fear in his mother’s eyes give way to a blank stare that recognized nothing at all. Her arms, which held his sister Eretha so tight to protect her child from the threat of The Creator, now dropped limply to her sides. Her mouth fell open, as if it had become unhinged, and a thin string of saliva began to extend from her bottom lip toward Eretha’s face which was tilted upward seeking an answer from a mother she didn’t know she had just lost forever.

“Momma!” she said again.

But Lilly had been erased, never to return. Without uttering a word she pushed Eretha away, then turned to leave the kitchen. She didn’t appear to even notice the creature that was still standing not more than three feet away, nor did she acknowledge her husband or the child Nathan as she walked past them in a stumbling gait, then turned down the hall toward the bedroom. Neither uttered a word as she passed, as if they already realized and accepted that this was no longer someone they knew.

“Momma where are you going!” cried Eretha, who then turned her child’s anger at The Creator.

“What did you do to my mother? What did you DO?”

The bedroom door closed with a hard click as Lilly locked herself inside. A long uncomfortable silence followed as Eretha and the creature regarded one another, the creature perhaps wondering for a moment whether the child deserved an answer.

“Come here, baby,” said Hannibal, uttering his first uncertain words since the entire event which had rendered him somewhat in shock. But the danger to his baby girl was all the prompt he needed to step outside of his fear regardless of the risk to himself.

“Eretha? Come over here to me and Nathan. It’s gonna be all right, hear? Daddy’s got you.”

Which was what Hannibal wanted to believe. Which is what any parent would want to believe when standing between their child and a threat to that child’s life. Love is a powerful force, but love can’t save everything. The crack in love’s weakness, when love looks the other way, was what permitted The Creator to reach out to Hannibal and his son, causing both of them to fade into a fog of their former selves that, together with the erasure they had already performed on Lilly, would peel their family apart.

“It pains me to have to do this to one so young,” said The Creator, its voice becoming an echo.

“I don’t believe that,” said Eretha, who against all reason appeared to have no fear.

“And perhaps you shouldn’t. Perhaps it is better for you that you don’t. Nevertheless I do feel compelled to tell you this. As you grow older you will come to realize that there are times when you must do a thing that brings you no pleasure, but a thing that must be done nevertheless. That is the way of life, and of death as well. That is the way of existence.”

“I just want my mother back,” said Eretha, her voice a small whisper.

“Oh child…”said The Creator.

And then it was done.

Nathan watched as the re-enacted scene before him began to melt away like a dream made of hot wax until it was replaced with the reality of his livingroom where moments that felt like hours ago he had encountered the trilogy of the Noctus for the first time. He sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the worn wooden planks, his hands gripped tightly in his lap.

“What happened to her?” he asked.

“To your sister Eretha?”

“Yes. To my sister.”

“If you are asking what happened to her just now, the beast that calls themselves The Creator erased her memories of their meeting, just as they erased the memories of your father and yourself. Until now. Mother Death has granted us permission to share these memories with you to make you whole with the fullness of the truth.”

“Why would she do that? Because I think I would have felt better if I hadn’t seen all this. My father always said some things you’re better off not knowing, and he said a lot of crazy things to us, but I think he knew what he was talking about when he said that.”

“Your preference for the darkness is understandable. We have existed in darkness for since beyond the existence of time. And that is the sin of The Creator, which is why they constantly attempt to outpace the judgment of their crimes. But they know the day of judgment is gaining on them. The seed of Mary is strong. Stronger than The Creator.”

Nathan shook his head, then grinned and chuckled.

“I got no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, hear? None. And I don’t know how you think I would. What the hell is it you want from me?”

The door to the box opened wide with a loud metallic creaking as the undecipherable symbols etched on its sides began began to writhe and flow in a serpentine rhythm. The Noctus motioned toward the open portal.

“Our task was simply to reach you. The answers you seek are inside.”

That’s when Nathan heard the soft tug of a familiar voice reaching out to him from the box. It was a voice that made his heart break and overflow at the same time.

“Joan?”

Back to Part 25

On to Part 27

Table of Contents

“It is good you are afraid, but you do not need to be,” said the creature.

“You just crawled out of my clock while turning yourself into a for real spider, and you terrified both my children and my husband. And me. And now you just stood up on two legs and turned yourself into something else that I don’t even know what you are. How am I not gonna be afraid of that?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that we were the one who should actually be afraid? Because it’s true.”

“We? But there is only one of you. What…?”

“We are a singular entity. Simply an expression. But don’t concern yourself about that right now.”

“Whatever the hell you are there is no way…”

“Your name is Lilly, but you do not know who you are. Let me tell you a story that I think might interest you, and then you may have a better idea why I say it is we who should fear you, and not the other way around.”

Lilly didn’t respond but just stared, continuing to hold Eretha close. The orifice that substituted for a mouth stretched upward at the corners, mimicking a smile.

“Very well then. We begin. I will tell you this story once because I believe you deserve to know why all this is happening, but afterward you will have no memory of it. I apologize in advance, but that is the way it must be.”

“What good is telling me this story that will explain everything if I’m not gonna remember any of it once you’re done telling it to me? What sense does that make?”

The creature shrugged its shoulders.

“Perhaps it makes no sense at all. You are probably right about that. Nevertheless I will tell it to you because, as I said, I am quite certain you will find it interesting.”

“I probably don’t have a choice so go ahead and tell your story then. Whatever.”

“Let’s not be dramatic. I assume you are familiar with the story of the one they call Jesus Christ?”

Lilly’s expression shifted from fear to a look that more resembled confusion.

“Jesus? Of course I’ve heard of…what is this?”

“I assumed you had, but you have to be sure about these things. But all stories need a beginning and…”

“Who are you?”

“We will get to that, child, but first I think…”

“Who. Are. You.”

The creature and Lilly regarded one another for a pause of time, a sort of standoff, before the creature uttered a hissing sound, then lashed its tongue back and forth in and out of its mouth.

“We prefer to do things in order, and this is not at all in order. But we can see you will not absorb the meaning of the story we are about to tell if we don’t answer your meaningless question, so we will make an exception. You should know this is not something we often do.”

“How can it be meaningless for me to know who you are?”

“Because it is not who one is but what one does. But you insist on placing a value on the who, so we will answer your question; we are the one they call The Creator.”

“The Creator is a giant spider?”

“Don’t be dense, child. No. We are whoever and whatever we choose to be at a particular time for whatever the occasion requires. We are not constrained in our appearance. We chose a large spider in this instance to effect terror to gain your attention. I would say we succeeded.”

“You had to terrify my family to get…nevermind. The Creator? Are you telling me you’re God?”

“NO!”

The voice became thunder, causing the entire room to shake to the point where it felt as if it might come apart. The creature’s face was contorted into a horrific mask of rage, and Lilly felt certain she and her daughter were about to be slaughtered on the spot.

But then, as quickly as the storm appeared, it dissipated and the creature appeared mournful and apologetic.

“I am sorry for the outburst. Perhaps if you allow me to tell my story without any more interruptions you will better understand everything in full. You are attempting to construct a whole picture but you only have bits and pieces, which of course means you will fail.”

There was another pause as The Creator waited for Lilly to respond. She chose not to.

“I have said you do not need to be afraid. You can take me at my word. As I have said, I am The Creator. Not at all to be confused with the other being you just mentioned. I prefer not to utter his name for reasons you need not concern yourself with. There was a time when we were of like mind, but that time disappeared eons upon eons ago and will never return.

“So I will tell you about Mary, the mother of Jesus, as you know. Jesus was the one who received all the praise and all the recognition. But Mary had another son by the name of Joseph. And when Joseph got married, he and his wife had two sons and a daughter. That daughter is your ancestor, which means you, as her descendant, carry the seed of Mary. And so does your daughter that you hold so tight. It is Mary’s seed that has the power to destroy me, just as it was her seed - not Joseph’s - that created the one you call The Savior. Perhaps now you better understand why it is not you who should be afraid.”

“But why would anyone want to destroy you. How could anyone destroy you if you’re The Creator?”

“Jealousy is not only a human trait, dear Lilly. Jealousy is the serpent with a hunger that is never sated.”

“Well then can’t you do something to stop it?”

“I’m afraid they will never stop, but I can cause a delay - perhaps a loop in time - that could become endless. But to do that…”

“To do that what?”

“Remember I told you I could not allow you to remember this conversation.”

Lilly began shaking her head.

“No. Wait…”

“I know you will not believe me but I truly am sorry for what I am about to do.”

Sensing something horrible was about to happen, Eretha looked up at her mother as they were backing away.

“Momma? Momma what’s happening?”

Lilly opened her mouth to answer, but in that moment she went mad.

“Momma?”

Back to Part 24

Table of Contents

“I’m guessing you don’t remember any of this,” said the Noctus in a calm metallic voice as it appeared beside Nathan who had been re-positioned further away from his family to a vantage point outside of the kitchen. It was hovering inches above the floor, four of its arms clasped behind its back, this time presenting itself as a singular entity rather than as a trilogy.

“And I don’t blame you. No, I don’t blame you at all. If I were a child as young as you, witnessing something as awful as this happening to your mother and sister, I believe I would wipe it from my memory as well. That is, if I were human. I consider it my good fortune not to be so cursed.”

The shrill screams of Eretha and Lilly grew louder and more desperate as the two watched the spider take its time as it crawled its expanding girth across the floor toward them. Hannibal’s mouth was open wide, a silent scream caught in his throat, as the young Nathan begged his father to do something, anything, to save his mother and sister.

Nathan the adult took two steps toward the spectacle, determined to put an end to what he could see was about to happen. But the Noctus reached out with two more of its tentacle-like arms and wrapped them firmly around his waist, then dragged him back.

“Dammit let me go! If you ain’t gonna do nothin to stop this then I will! I gotta…”

“You are a wonderful protector, Nathan. You always were. But you are also a bit of a fool, and you don’t take the necessary time to think things through. This is a perfect example of that failing. What you are witnessing, as I have tried to tell you, is an event that has already transpired. It has happened. Over and done. There is nothing you can do to reverse the past, and without my assistance you would not even be able to witness it. There is a very important point to all this. Now if you will please do your best to relax yourself. The show is nearly over.”

There was no way Nathan could relax, but he had no choice but to watch helplessly as the spider brought itself to within several feet of Lilly and Eretha, who trembled as they clutched one another tight - and then it stopped. The creature had continued to grow the entire length of its approach, reaching a size of more than five feet across in the span of a minute that felt so much more like an hour. But now the creature simply paused in front of the pair and regarded them intensely with its eight eyes, its huge fangs clearly visible as it appeared to shift its focus of attention from mother to daughter and then back again.

Then, slowly, it rose up on two of its rear legs as four of the other eight legs began to retract inside of the body, which nearly reached the ceiling when standing upright. The two remaining legs began to gradually redesign themselves into more familiar appeandages that more closely resembled human arms, although noticeably longer with thick black claws in the place of fingers. The eight black eyes remained embedded in the now more human-shaped head atop the body, but the fangs were also retracted into an orifice that somewhat resembled a human mouth although not quite. There were no lips, and a long black tongue eased its way out like a snake toward the terrified pair before the tip somehow splintered into several smaller tongues, making the tongue’s head resemble an active daisy made of dark flesh.

“What in God’s name…”

“God has nothing to do with this, I can assure you,” said the Noctus.

“Then what…?”

“This is the Creator’s doing.”

Nathan turned to look at the Noctus, his entire face a frightened question.

“But aren’t they the same? God and the Creator?”

The Noctus uttered a wet, gurgling sound of satisfaction.

“Now you are asking the right questions. Keep watching.”

Back to Part 23

On to Part 25

Table of Contents

At first, Nathan didn’t recognize the small toddler seated in the high chair playing with her food. His viewpoint was from the side, a bit to the rear, so he couldn’t get a clear picture of the infant except to tell she was a bit on the chunky side. The high chair was pulled back a ways from a small square wooden kitchen table that was pushed up against the wall, with two regular chairs placed on either side. The wall was painted a flat yellow, and a ticking plastic clock was positioned about two feet down from the ceiling. The clock had a large, smiling black spider nailed to its center, with two of its legs working to tell time by the hour and by the minute. Something about that clock…

But why was the room so quiet? The only other sound to be heard were the amused gurgles being made by the child as she played with her food.

“Where is everybody?” he mumbled to himself. “Where the hell am I?”

And with that, the room rotated his perspective until Nathan was facing directly in front of the child, who didn’t seem to notice him standing there. Much more interested in the food.

“Wait…”

Nathan felt a chill as he craned his neck forward, squinting his eyes.

“No…no...that’s…”

Just as he began to recognize a much younger Eretha, who continued to ignore her brother as if he was invisible, he heard a door close down the hall, followed by footsteps.

He turned his attention to see who was coming, but he already recognized the sound of his mother’s houseshoes against the hardwood floor before she made her appearance.

“Mom? How…?”

But Lilly didn’t see or hear him either. And she was…smiling? Nathan couldn’t ever remember his mother smiling about anything unless it was in an evil way. But here, as she reached for her daughter to lift her out of the highchair, the smile was serene and happy. He never would have believed such an expression of parental love could appear on his mother’s face if he wasn’t witnessing the unlikely spectacle for himself.

Or was he?

“What the hell is this? What the hell is going on here?” he said out loud, sensing another presence.

“You asked us to take you to your sister, and here she is!” came the voice of the Noctus, sounding drenched in reverb as if it were coming from a much larger room, and also quite obviously pleased with itself.

Neither Lilly nor Eretha appeared to notice a thing as they enjoyed each other’s company, which was something else Nathan had never seen before. This was all wrong.

“You playin tricks with me! You need to take me where Eretha is right now, not where she was once upon a time,” he yelled. “Besides, that ain’t even Eretha! I don’t know who the hell that baby is but it damned sure ain’t Eretha, and that ain’t Lilly neither!”

The Noctus chuckled, still choosing to remain out of sight.

“Then who are they? Tell us that, if you’re sure that the evidence of your own eyes is a lie. Because that is certainly your kitchen, is it not?”

Nathan felt his heart pounding inside his chest like it was trying to escape. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down until he managed to succeed. When he opened them, the Noctus was beside him, viewing the improbable happy home scenario that featured his mother laughingly toying with his little sister, showing no clue of the mother he knew her to be. Or that he remembered.

“Who are they, Nathan?”

“I don’t know who they are. I just know that you’ve done something. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but I know you’ve done something to make a lie look like it’s real. But no matter what you do you can’t lie to me about Lilly, or about me and Eretha’s childhood with that woman, because we were there, all right? We were there.”

“Hmmm. I see. Yes, memories can be powerful things, Nathan. We realize that. But as I mentioned to you before, there are memories between memories; the memories that have been lost or erased, often because of trauma. But simply because you do not know how tio retrieve these memories does not mean the events they contain never occurred. I am sure you can agree that at your age you cannot possibly remember everything that ever happened to you. But does it mean those things never happened? Or that they had no effect on you?”

Nathan knew what the Noctus was saying was true, even if that truth was protecting a lie. He was no match for this thing and he knew it.

“Now watch closely. Because something is about to happen that you do not want to miss.”

The clock’s ticking stopped. A perfect silence held the room hostage for 10 long seconds, then Lilly and Eretha watched as the smiling black spider that had faithfully kept time for the past two years ever since Lilly picked it up at the Target because she thought it was cute began to force its way out of the clock’s plastic cover as it rapidly assumed the size and shape of an actual spider that measured more than two feet across.

Lilly held Eretha close as she started to scream. Suddenly Hannibal appeared at the entrance to the kitchen, watching in disbelief and terror, squeezing his tiny son’s hand in his own and shaking his head back and forth.

“Dad!” yelled Nathan, pointing at the eight-legged creature as it dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Dad!”

That was just the beginning.

Back to Part 22

On to Part 24

Table of Contents