Javan found himself in an abandoned cemetery. He did not know how he got there; he did not have an inkling of an idea about where he was. However, he believed he needed to be there. A certain feeling tugged at him, urging him to continue walking through the aisles of graves despite his better wisdom.
The cemetery exuded a mysterious aura. Mist covered the night sky. A choir of birds sang a melancholic melody, their raspy cries, unlike any bird song Javan had ever heard.
Javan reached into his pants pocket to retrieve his phone but felt nothing. His bronze watch was missing as well. Something strange had happened. Forgetting his phone was unlikely; he would never have forgotten his watch.
Besides the birds, Javan could hear the rustling of critters from somewhere beyond his perception. Javan read online that raccoons sometimes visit cemeteries. He also heard that coyotes and foxes did too, and he certainly hoped for the former as opposed to the latter.
After walking a bit more, Javan reached a unique area of the cemetery: an open space layered with orange dirt. There were no graves in the area, although tombstones layered the exterior of the empty space, forming a large circle. The mist, which hung over the rest of the cemetery, was absent there.
Javan walked into the empty area. The ground felt strangely warm. He continued to walk, guided by a sense of purpose alien to his usual demeanor. Usually, Javan sauntered through life with little care and with little aim... But now...he felt within himself a calling, though he was clueless to what that calling was.
The rustling Javan heard earlier grew in intensity. From somewhere in the distance, Javan saw a dark figure bobbing to and thro from the tombstones. Besides the scuttling noise, he heard something else: a high-pitched cry that sounded eerily like laughter. That noise didn’t come from the birds. What he once attributed to raccoons and foxes, Javan now thought more likely to be another person. The same feeling that guided Javan to this spot now filled him with a sense of dread. Whatever was out there, he doubted it was friendly.
Then it emerged. From the misty darkness sprung a scarlet cloaked figure. The person brandished a knife which moved at glass-breaking speeds towards Javan’s chest. He had no time to react. He had no time to exhale. In an instant, the hooded figure had buried the knife in his arm.
***
Javan woke up screaming. He fell from the living room couch to the floor. The sound alerted his sister, who ran into the room, comb in hand. Dark curly hair covered her left eye, leaving the right eye to stare at him with worry.
“Are you okay?” She plopped down to get a good look at her brother’s face. She dropped the comb and placed her hand on Javan’s cheek. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. Even his arms felt heavy. He pressed his hand on that spot and felt nothing. No blood. No dagger. He checked his wrist, though he could already feel the strap gripping his skin. The watch was there. Of course, it was.
“It was just a dream, Mariyah. My bad.”
The gentle hand resting on Javan’s cheeks slapped him silly.
“What in the world is wrong with you?” Mariyah stood up, put her hands on her hips, and glared at Javan with murderous intent.
“You yelled so loud that I thought you had cut your arm off or something, jeez.”
Javan slowly got up. The emotions he experienced from his dream still hung over him like an extra-large sweater. Daydreaming was a usual occurrence for him but never had a daydream affected him like this. And if the yelling was as loud as Mariyah had said…
“Did Dad hear?” Mariyah shook her head.
“He’s still at work, dummy. When has he ever come before dinner time?”
“Nah, you're right. Sorry, that was a stupid thing to ask.”
He sunk into the sofa. Mariyah followed suit. She used the remote to flip through the channels on the TV as she chewed on her bottom lip. In that way, and only in that way, she was like their mom.
“You finished basketball practice?” Javan asked. Mariyah nodded.
“Yeah, practice ended early today. Coach had something urgent to do, so we just did some scrimmaging.”
“Oh, word? That’s the first time I heard your coach leaving early for practice ever.”
“Yeah, it's certainly unusual for him to miss training, especially with playoffs coming up, but the guy’s certainly got a life outside the court, ya know.” Mariyah was still flicking through the channels.
“Hey, Javan. Isn’t it true that the coach’s daughter goes to your school? I think her name is Tiffany or something like that.” Javan blinked.
“She does. In fact...” Javan suddenly remembered something important. “In fact, me and Tiffany are kind of an item right now.”
Mariyah dropped the controller. The TV ended up on some kids' cartoon show.
“Nah, you 're kidding right?’ Javan gave her the look. Mariyah had to cover her mouth to hold in the laughter.
“Oh, Lord, I just know my brother is pulling my leg right now. You can’t be serious. You with her. She’s a fashion model, right?”
“Are you trying to say your big bro has no game?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, and you know that, too. Stop playing with me.” Her hazel eyes accused Javan of clown-like behavior. He patted her shoulder.
“I’m only telling you the truth and nothing but.” He chuckled. “I may not look the part, but I certainly can act like someone’s prince handsome. You underestimated me.”
“You're acting up too much today, Javan, I swear. You even got Iggy beat.” Mariyah stared at him in disbelief. Javan couldn’t lie: it hurts a bit when even his own sister doesn’t believe in him. Still, the truth remained. He and Tiffany were dating ever since she asked him out in the school’s parking lot.
Thinking back on it, he understood his sister’s belief. There was no time in the history of mankind that he should have been able to nab a girl like her. Just thinking about the confession was enough to send him into cardiac arrest. The way her brown eyes pierced his soul, her Jasmine perfume that brought him to his knees, the way she pulled back her braids after she said those words of affirmation. She was an angel who just so happened to be tasked by the Almighty to give him happiness and succor in these trying times. A loser like himself with a girlfriend like her...maybe this world wasn’t so bad after all.
Then Javan remembered their planned date. Tiffany had told him to meet her somewhere tomorrow at around 5:00 pm to hang out before going out to eat at a Jamaican restaurant. He had written the address down on a sticky note that he placed on his laptop. Later that night, while Mariyah was washing the dishes, he went over to his computer to check the note. The address seemed familiar, though Javan could not figure out why. Perhaps he went there before on a school trip or a family gathering. The locale was a twenty-minute drive from his home.
Javan was ecstatic. He usually had nothing to do on Saturdays besides homework and playing with Iggy the Iguana, so the chance to do anything fun, let alone a date, enticed him. He went to bed, barely able to sleep a wink.
Javan used every spell in the magic book to make himself presentable for the date: hair combed back, attire on point with black jeans and a red polo shirt to show off his recently acquired muscle from Judo training, skin real smooth, cologne fresh as an apple pie straight out of the oven, his watch polished. He was really feeling himself.
As he walked to the garage door with his thirty-five dollars and breath mints, someone called out to him. A tired, slightly inebriated voice said, “You’ve got this, son. Good luck.” Mariyah, who was upstairs in her room completing her homework, glanced at the floor beneath her, her ears attentive. Javan said nothing and closed the door.
The drive was shorter than expected. Traffic was unusually light for a Saturday, so he was in danger of arriving too early. On-time was fine, a little late showed character, a couple of minutes early showed commitment, but a whole twenty or so minutes showed desperation.
Javan was about to take a small trip to the store to buy some strawberries for his sister until he saw an old guy walking across the sidewalk. He was barely holding on, the hot sun above melting him into something not quite human. Javan was apprehensive about strangers, but still, he couldn’t just watch a death in the making.
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Javan stopped the car in the middle of the road and got out, daring anyone to hit him. He ran to the old man. His timing neared perfection because just as he neared the old man, the old man started to fall forward. Before his head could mash into the pavement below, Javan had caught him.
“Hey, sir. Don’t worry, I’m here for ya.” He put the man's left arm over his shoulder and the two began walking to the car.
The old man uttered only three things to Javan during their brief time together. The first was when they both entered the car. He asked, “Are you, my granddaughter?” Javan shook his head. The second thing the old man said was providing directions to where he needed to go. Despite his bewilderment, he clearly knew where he wanted to go. The place wasn’t far at all from the destination Tiffany had given him. In fact, it was only two miles away.
The last thing the old man said started with a thank you before he grabbed Javand’s shoulders and demanded if his granddaughter was okay, that nobody had harmed her, that his little angel would still be there in the living room with the batch of freshly made chocolate cookies she always made. Javan didn’t know how to answer. Clearly, the summer heat had caused the man to be delusional. Maybe the old man realized this too since he apologized again before stepping out of the car and heading to his destination.
Javan looked to see the old man make it into the house before he left. Being two minutes late, Javan thought it the aptest time to go to his destination. He was surprised at where he ended up: a United Methodist Church. The building looked old enough to have been built by John Wesley himself. The wood was grey and the roof was littered with holes. There were no other cars besides Javan’s in the parking lot. For a place of holy worship, the church perfectly resembled a haunted house.
Javan stayed in his car, thinking he had written down the wrong address. There was no way that Tiffany would have invited him here, even if she was deeply religious. He was about to text her about the confusion until he saw the wonderful girl who asked him out walking through the parking lot to the church.
Okay, maybe she was just a bit highly religious. That’s fine. I’ve heard church girls are the best kissers. Javan got out of the car to greet her.
She wore a white lace dress which matched perfectly with her dark skin tone. Her braids danced in the sky as she walked. The smile which greeted Javan as the two got close was enough to melt all the agitation and concern Javan had initially about the location. With a smile like that, everything would be fine.
“Now, I know you 're wondering,” she said, twirling her braids with her fingers, “why I told you to come here.”
“Yeah, I’m going, to be honest with you. It really confused me when I got here. I didn’t look at Google Maps before, so when I found out that we were meeting at this run-down….I mean, historical church, I was a bit put off.“ Tiffany eyed him with an unreadable expression. Javan stuttered.
“Of course, I have no issues about it.“
“No, I get it,” she said, laughing in such a way to diffuse the tension. “This is pretty weird, right?”
“No, I understand. I mean, if you're really deep in your faith, then…”
‘It’s not about that.” She chuckled. Javan decided at this point that he would hand over the remote to speak to her for the rest of the conversation.
“I have a surprise for you here.” Again, she giggled, only this time she grabbed Javan’s hand. The warmth from her touch was enough to start a forest fire.
“Come on, Javan. Let's go so we can grab lunch afterward.” She dragged him into the church with Javan putting out negative resistance. He was deeply interested in what his present would be.
The inside of the church was just as dilapidated as the outside. The pews were rusted; the floor was dented, and the piano on the far left looked like Arachne had played it. Javan could hear rats scurrying on the floor. The smell, too, left little to be desired. The entire place might as well have been a refurbished trash heap.
Tiffany skipped as she held Javan’s hand. She hummed something that Javan recognized as a hymn, though he couldn’t recall the name. Her cheerful nature contrasted the shabby scenery like a princess stuck in the ghettos.
“Come on, come on,” she said, as they passed the piano and walked out the back door. Javan tried to match Tiffany’s joy only to have his heart really skip a beat. It wasn’t out of love.
Javan looked out at horror at the sight before him. Columns of tombstones lined the back of the church. Some graves had roses though most did not. A murder of crows had landed on some of the graves. At the sight of the two people entering their domain, they cawed and fell off.
This couldn’t be real. A graveyard--just like in my dream.
He shook his head. No, that’s stupid. That was a dream. This is reality. Don’t forget the difference. He turned to face Tiffany. She was looking out at the graveyard with a sense of purpose. Her shoulders seemed tense, and the hold she had on Javan’s hand was stronger than before. When she noticed that Javan was looking at him, she flashed him a quick smile.
“This is it. Are you shocked?”
Javan didn’t know how to answer. Sure, he was surprised, but not in the way he hoped. Right now, he was terrified. He tried to get loose of Tiffany’s hand, but she held on strong. She didn’t look all that tough, but her grip strength was out of this world.
“Tell me,” she said. She placed her other hand on Javan’s waist. She moved up and down with her hand. “How did it feel when my brother stabbed you?”
At that instant, Javan used all the strength in his body to pull himself away from Tiffany’s graph. The motion caused him to fall backwards in the dirt. Tiffany looked at him with a second of surprise, only to transform her face into a malicious grin.
“Ah, that was rather quick of you. I didn’t think you had the wherewithal to do that.”
“Dodge?” asked Javan until he saw her outstretched in hand. In that hand, pointing directly where he once stood, was a knife.
“What are you doing, Tiffany?”. He backed away from her as she started sauntering up to him.
“Hey, hey, what’s the big deal? You're trying to kill me. No way. This can’t be happening.” Javan continued to back away. “STAY AWAY FROM ME.”
“Sorry, but I can’t do that Javan. It would be against my teachings.”
“What...what do you mean by that? Why, Tiffany. Why are you doing this?”
Tiffany shook her head. Her eyes stared at Javan like a predator tracking its prey. No remorse, no hesitation.
“I’ve been order by the Fate to kill you. Don’t take this personally. It was just your time to go.”
“No, this can’t be happening.” He reached down to the floor and grabbed a pile of dirt. When Tiffany got close enough to where her heels touched his shoes, he threw the dirt right in her face. Tiffany flinched, and in that quick moment, Javan sprinted out of the area. He made it ten steps before something strong knocked him from the side. The impact of the hit was enough to crack steel. He flew, spinning in the air until he collided with one of the tombstones in the graveyard. He barely managed to maintain consciousness. Blood dripped from the top of his head. His chest was crushed. Who knew how many bones he broke? Tiffany lowered her legs, her left heel stained with blood.
“Wonderful, Javan, wonderful.” She laughed. Her elation was palpable. .
“Oh, I do love it when they struggle. That's how it should be, right?. When someone is threatened with the end of their existence, when one’s death is on the line, it is their God-given right to use anything in their power to resist: murder, destroy, annihilate, even if the odds are eternally against them. To fight and survive; to fight and die; overcome or be overcomed; kill or be killed; one’s will to power over the other. These are the rights Lord Fate has given to us. Praise him and his divine plans.”
She raised her bloody heel and licked the blood off it. She squirmed as the red liquid touched her tongue.
“How marvelous, this divine liquid flowing through all of us. I feel more connected to you now than I ever did before. How alluring!”
She walked up to Javan, knife in hand. He had no more options. His body was broken beyond repair with not enough strength to lift a finger. No one else was around. There was no chance of escape. How pathetic to be downed so easily.. What a hopeless scene? Javan racked his brain and decided that there was only one thing left to do: stall.
“Who are you really? Wh..why are you here.” Tiffany laughed just as she did when she dragged him into the church. A laugh of innocence that masked a terrifying secret.
“I’m the girl that you have so lovely known as Tiffany. A nice-sounding name don’t you think.” She twirled the knife in her hand.
“So, you're not Tiffany,” Javan muttered. “ Just what type of monster are you?”
“You can say that I’m out of this world.” She chuckled. “Sorry, that was corny. Regardless, I can’t give you much more than what I’ve already said. The church hates gossip.”
“You disgusting freak.”
“Why thank you. I’m just playing my part--dutiful to the very end. We all have a role we have to play from the moment of our conception. I find it more disgusting when people fail to release this, languish in their own self doubt, and refuse to take the initiative to fulfill their purpose. “And besides.” She licked her lips. “Some people need to do the disgusting work to make the world a better place.” Javan cried out as Tiffany neared his broken body. Each step she took was deliberately slow, letting every curse, every shout of agony reach her ears in a cacophony of desperation and despair.. Javan suspected that she was savoring every moment.
“Shame, you never met the real one. She’s too kind for her own good. Always checking up on her grandfather, kind and gentle to her father, friendly to all her classmates. I believe she was one the first subjects I preyed on for the ritual. Her pureness made her the perfect candidate. They told me to tone it down afterwards less your kind grows suspicious. Truly, a beautiful girl. Then again, the most beautiful things are fleeting.” Now she was mere inches away from Javan.
“As for your other question. Well, you can say its fate or destiny or whatever people of this world call the march of time. It was simply your time, and although you struggled valiantly against it, death comes to all in the end.”
She raised her dagger above Javan’s chest. He couldn’t stall any longer. Even talking tired him out so there was no way he was going to regain his strength. Why bother asking if there was nothing more he could do. All he hoped that this would end here, and not extend to the people he loved, to his sister.
“Now my brother will have to finish the job. Hopefully, with this, I can show him how it's done.”
She plunged the knife into Javan’s chest.. Pain, increased pain, so much pain, pain greater than anything Javan had ever felt. He stared up into Tiffany’s face. Her ecstatic face was too much to look at. Instead, he stared at his watch, ensuring that the image would be ingrained in his mind. Then silence. Nothingness. A stagnant body laid in the graveyard across the church. Tiffany knelt before it, hands clasped, chanting to Fate for the role given to her, praying for greater fealty to the cause that would set the whole world in motion. Her grin spanned the entirety of her face. She loved every moment of her work.. Death truly was the climax of life.