The Fiery Revenge: Gothic Story

   

The Fiery Revenge

                 Her eyes fly open, and Julia Brennan sits up with a start.  She hears a faint rattling coming from downstairs.  Peering into the darkness, she steps out of her bed onto the aged mahogany floor, praying she won't make any noise.  She then is startled by a more distinct sound: the opening of the front door, followed by cautious footsteps.  Her parents are both in bed, sound asleep.   Though she knew she should run and wake them up, Julia stands in the same spot, paralyzed by fear.  She then notices a more hurried movement of the intruder, and then, to her dismay, the creaking of the stairs. 

                Moments later, she hears the opening of a door, followed by an explosive hiss.  Suddenly able to move again, Julia throws her bedroom door open and frantically begins to run toward her parents’ room.  As she is rushing down the hallway, Julia sees a small, cloaked figure running in the opposite direction, attempting to escape.  He turns around, obviously startled by the presence of another human being.  Beneath the black hood, Julia is surprised to see a somewhat familiar face.  She observed thick eyebrows, defined cheekbones, and deep set eyes.  Unable to place where she recognized him from, Julia was aroused from her trance by an alarming chorus of screams.   The man continues his dash for the door, and she, turning into her parent’s room, is arrested with an appalling sight. 

                That man had set the bed on fire. Her parents are writhing furiously in it, encompassed by roaring flames. Julia yells for them to get out of the bed, but sees they are bound by thick rope.  All they are able to respond with are shrieks of pain and struggle.  She wills herself to come up with a solution, as the fire is growing more violent by the second.  Her mother and father couldn't last much longer.  Julia grabs the wooly red carpet from the floor of the room and, whacking the bed furiously, tries to put the fire out.  After a few minutes of this, the intensity of the fire had significantly decreased, but Julia knew it was too late.  She looks down to see that her parents were nothing but a blackened mass.  Julia, flooded with exhaustion and grief, collapses onto floor. The smell of burnt flesh envelopes the room.  

                The picture of the man enters her mind, and she suddenly realized that she had seen him at the bank with her father.  Mr. Brennan, who worked for the Bank of Maine, gave out loans and credit.  This customer had requested a loan, but her father was unable to grant him one: and he was furious.   She remembers going to the bank after school last week, and witnessed the man, his face tomato-red with rage, murmuring something feverishly under his breath as he exited into the frigid winter day.  He had murdered her parents.  He had achieved his revenge.  Julia, filled with sorrow, picks herself up off the floor, and gently placed a clean white sheet over the bed.  She turns and walks towards the door, and stealing one last glance at her beloved parents’ scorched bodies, vows that she would receive revenge on whoever committed this terrible crime. 

                Julia, in a state of utter shock, moves through the next few days like an emotionless robot.   Unable to stay in her former house, she goes to live her grandmother, Edith, the only living relative in the area.  Though the decrepit cottage, situated in the depths of the woods, is a far cry from her former mountaintop abode, Julia barely takes notice. 

            About to depart for school from the cottage, she steals a quick glance at her grandmother, who is sitting in her favorite chair.  The once-grand piece of furniture is now ancient, with decaying rosewood legs and a crumpled leather seat.  The reading lamp casts a dim light on her grandmother’s sagging face.  Julia notices a violent shiver run through her:  this winter boasts a cold unparalleled by any other in Julia’s lifetime, and the only source of heat available in the old house is a minute fireplace.  Julia walks a few steps across the creaky floor, and leans over her grandmother’s sagging body.  “Goodbye, Grandma, I am going now.  I’ll be home before dusk.”  Her grandmother’s cold lips peck Julia on the cheek, and Julia walks away, emotionless.  She draws back the stained lace curtain, and peers out to observe the weather before departing.  It is dark, but Julia knows she must leave early in order to arrive at school on time.  She turns the weathered brass doorknob, and steps out of the house.  The bitter air fills her lungs.  Clumsily making her way through the haunting woods and knee-deep snow, she finally reaches her destination: a cable car.  This is critical for travel anywhere beyond the woods, as it impossible to get to the other side of the mountain by foot.  Julia nervously gets on, trying not to imagine falling to a brutal, rocky death that would await her with one misstep.  After a numbing hour of travel, Julia finally arrives at the prestigious Rockford Academy for Girls.  

            The hustle and bustle of students barely fazes Julia as she makes her way to English class.  The tall, stained glass windows, which usually reveal invigorating beams of sunlight, let in no such thing on this dreary winter day.  The broad stone walls and towering archways that usually makes Julia feel small and insignificant seem to close in, suffocating and smothering her.   She starts to walk faster, and finally, just as the bell rings, takes her seat in Mr. Cornell’s literature class.

                Julia looks up, expecting to see her teacher, but instead observes a small man, dressed in an all-black suit.  Facing the chalkboard, he writes his name in an elegant script. He turns around, and Julia emits a small gasp.  That’s him, she thinks.  The small, deeply set eyes, pronounced cheekbones, and caterpillar-like eyebrows are what make her certain.  Julia immediately has a flashback of the same face, shadowed by the hood of his cloak, peering at her down the hallway.  This is the man who killed her parents.  A feeling of animosity stirs within her, and Julia feels a deep urge, one stronger than she has ever felt before.  I must kill him, she says in her head.  She repeats this mantra, until she has devised a plan to inflict the most painful revenge on him possible. 

                 The echoing of the second bell off the cold, stone walls awakens Julia from her trance. “You must bring your Shakespeare essay to class tomorrow!” shouts the teacher, enthusiastically.  She smirks, and emits a low, malicious laugh.

                 With a renewed sense of purpose and energy, Julia walks across the ancient oak floors towards the front of the classroom, her gaze unwavering from the substitute teacher.   Smiley sweetly, she asks him for a moment of her time.  “Mr. Stiles”, she says, “I had a hard time with the lesson today, and I don’t fully understand the requirements of the assignment.  Could assist me after school today?”

                “Why of course…what is your name, dear?”

                “Julia.  Julia Brennan.” 

                There is absolutely no change in his expression when she reveals her last name, and by this, she is suprised.  He continues to smile, and replies, “Yes, Julia, I most certainly could help you.  Come to this classroom directly after the dismissal bell rings, and I will try my best to clear things up.” 

               “Thank you, Mr. Stiles.  The only thing is, my grandmother is expecting me directly after school, and I have no way to contact her to tell her I’ll be late.  I’m scared she’ll worry about me.  Is there any chance you could come to my house and tutor me there?  I know my grandmother would greatly appreciate it.” 

                Without hesitation, Mr. Stiles responds, saying, “Of course.  Meet me here and we can then proceed to your house.  The bit of fresh air will do us both good to clear our heads before we start the lesson. “

                She nods, thanks him, and exits the classroom.  Jittery with excitement, she trips over her own feet and drops her books in the middle of the hallway.  She then feels a sharp pinch, and looks up to see Patricia Montgomery accidentally stepping on her fingers.   A mumbled apology is emitted from her mouth.   Her breath reeks of smoke, and Julia turns to see a cigarette in Patricia’s left hand.   At this, Julia smiles, as it reminds her of her upcoming plans.               

                It seems to take weeks, instead of hours, for the school day to end.  Finally, at the end of seventh period, the much anticipated chime of the dismissal bell sounds throughout the school.   She rushes out of her biology room, down the dimly lit hallway, trying to dodge a run in with the mass of students.   Reaching her English classroom at last, she raps on the thick wooden door and peers through the cracked window.  The grand fireplace is ablaze, and Mr. Stiles is sitting at his desk, contentedly grading papers.   Hearing the knock, he quickly gathers his papers, stuffs them in his tired leather briefcase, and saunters towards the door.   Julia holds the door open with grace and politeness, though her hands are shaking uncontrollably with excitement and anticipation.  They greet each other cordially, and proceed to exit the school. 

                Mr. Stiles and Julia are encompassed by an icy wind as they leave Rockford Academy.  The two attempt small talk, trying to forget the piercing chill.  As they walk through the winding, snow-encompassed mountain path, Julia is especially thrilled by the view.  After about fifteen minutes, the Julia points out the cable car to Mr. Stiles.  This transportation device, which is critical to reach Julia’s grandmother’s house, has an element of ancient beauty.   Too bad , Julia thinks, that it won’t be there much longer.  

                “Here it is!” Julia shouts, excitedly.  “You first, Mr. Stiles.  Really, it will be a fun ride.” He cautiously steps from the land to the quavering cable car, holding onto her arm for support.  As he is getting situated, she slips out a match from her pocket, and quietly lights it.  She then pulls the appropriate cable, and it starts to inch slowly away from the landing.  Mr. Stiles turns around, confused, wondering why Julia is not accompanying him.  She quickly, and with great rage, throws the lighted match onto the cable car. 

                “Julia...what are you…I don’t understand…” Mr. Stiles mutters.   In response, Julia simply smiles a wicked smile.  As the flames spread to various parts of the cable car, he starts to yell more frantically.  “Pull me back, young lady! You stop this…bring me back right now!”

                Julia cackles softly under her breath as she hears Mr. Stiles’s shrieks and watches the cable car burn, wrapped in furious flames.   Revenge is hers. 

                

            

Mr. Stiles teaching English at Rockford Academy. Is he the murderer?

           

Poe’s Obsession with Death as Seen Through his Writings

Rachel Forcillo

Mr. Provenzano

Honors American Literature

16 March 2012

Poe’s Obsession with Death as Seen Through his Writings

            One of the most distinguished writers of all time, Edgar Allan Poe is most well-known for his spine-tingling Gothic tales.  Orphaned at the age of two, he faced a plethora of issues during his lifetime, including gambling, drug and alcohol problems, poverty, and deaths of many of his loved ones.  Because Poe’s life was filled with hardship and loss, it is not surprising that the majority of his stories share a central theme: death.  The tone, as set by literary devices such as diction and imagery, is often ominous and dark.  In certain pieces, such as “The Masque of Red Death” and the “Pit and the Pendulum”, symbolism is also a way death is spotlighted.  Through careful examination, one can also see an obvious connection between his life and his writings.  Many of his works, such as The Masque of Red Death, The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, The Cask of Amontillado, The Pit and the Pendulum, and The Fall of the House of Usher, show that Poe is is greatly enraptured with the concept of death by his use of symbolism, parallelism, and tone, shown through imagery and diction.

            Sweeping Europe in the mid 1300s, the Plague, or “Black Death”, heavily influenced The Masque of Red Death.   In a medieval village, the brutal “Red Death” has taken the lives of more than half the village population.  Instead of tending to the needs of his people, the eccentric Prince Prospero tries to avoid the illness by inviting all his royal friends over for a magnificent, never ending masquerade.  He orders the castle to be completely closed off to avoid contagion.   His efforts are in vain, seeing as the “Red Death” in human form enters the castle, and violently infects, then kills, everyone.   Poe describes his arrival as follows: “He had come like a thief in the night.  And one by one dropped the revelers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall…Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all” (Poe, The Masque of Red Death 6).  From beginning to end, the tone is exceedingly grim, shown with vivid imagery describing the red death.  Though the royal masses seem safe with the castle walls, thoroughly enjoying their absurdly lavish masquerade, a sense of foreboding is still present.  The great ebony clock greatly contributes to this.  Every hour, the clock chimes, and the festivities cease.  The clock represents the larger concept of time, and how, when all is said and done, death answers to time.  The most prominent message in this story, though, is that no amount of wealth, stature, or power can ward off death.   When Poe attended the University of Virginia, his affluent, tobacco-merchant godfather offered him very little financial aid, leaving Poe in poverty.   Poe, through “The Masque of Red Death”, may have been releasing his pent-up anger at his ungiving guardian, a feeling of contempt for the wealthy in general, and well as a wish for them to endure the same suffering as the poor.  He wanted to express that those who choose to ignore death or strive to avoid it will be faced with the same end result as those who were already killed.  In The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, the message the reader is left with is somewhat similar to the one in The Masque of Red Death.

            The narrator of The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, who is well practiced in the art of mesmerism, is anxious to perform a test to see if he can hypnotize someone as they are dying.  M. Valdemar, who has tuberculosis and is aware death is soon approaching, is the subject of the narrator’s experiments.   The narrator is successful in keeping his friend mesmerized at the point just before death for seven months, and when he asks what M. Valdemar’s wishes are at that point, the following occurs: 

            There was an instant return of the hectic circles on the cheeks; the tongue quivered, or       rather rolled violently in the mouth (although the jaws and lips remained rigid as before;)           and at length the same hideous voice which I have already described, broke forth: ‘For        God’s sake!—quick!—quick! Put me to sleep—or, quick!—waken me!—quick!—I say   to you that I am dead!’  I was thoroughly unnerved… (Poe, The Facts in the Case of M.       Valdemar)  

From this quote, a brief glimpse of the ghastly imagery is seen.   The use of this gruesome, extraordinarily detailed imagery, suggests an interest in death and perhaps a study of the human body, which would lead the reader to further come to the conclusion that Poe was infatuated with death.  Though the scene the narrator is witnessing is frightening and repulsive, he is surprisingly relaxed.   This nonchalant attitude towards death could have been purposely used by Poe as a façade of his own fear of death.  Published in 1845, Poe had already been forced to deal with a huge amount of death, such as the passing of his mother and father, his adopted mother and father, John and Francs Allan, and his brother, William Henry Leonard Poe.   He probably was terrified that his wife, too, would die: at this time, his wife Virginia very ill of tuberculosis, the same disease M. Valdemar was afflicted with.   In The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, the narrator attempts to extend the life of his friend.  This story might express Poe’s desperate longing to keep his beloved wife alive.  The narrator tries to postpone and overcome death, but in the end, M. Valdemar literally rots away.  The ending thought Poe leaves us with is that great consequences come with the effort to escape death.   

            The nonchalant frame of mind the narrator posses in The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar concerning death is also present in The Cask of Amontillado.   The story immediately starts off with a narrator, whose last name is Montresor, explaining how he must seek revenge upon his former friend, Fortunato.   The tone set by the opening statement is foreboding.   Diction also greatly helps establish the tone, with words such as avenged, definitively, vowed, revenge, injuries, immolation, retribution, impunity, and punish.   In the midst of a jovial carnival, the narrator greets Fortunato, and by playing into his pride and love of wine, convinces him to come down to the narrator’s vault and authenticate a bottle of Amontillado.  Tactfully, the narrator drugs Fortunato with wine to “help with his cough” as they head down into the nitre-filled vaults, and describes this part of the story:  “He raised it to his lips with a leer.  He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.  ‘I drink,’ he said, ‘to the buried that repose around us.’ 

‘And I to your long life.’ He took my arm and we proceeded” (Poe, The Cask of Amontillado). The calmness and trickery in which he uses to effectively carry his murder plan, exhibited in this quote, is quite disturbing.   It is evident Fortunato respects Montresor, and Montresor does a good job making Fortunato think the same.  In reality, he is about to trap Fortunato in a wall, essentially burying him alive.  This is the revenge Montresor seeks.  Generally, revenge isn’t death.  The fact that Poe made that the goal of revenge in this story definitely alludes to his obsession.   Poe also sets the story in a place directly related to death: the majority of the book takes place in a catacomb, or underground cemetery.   The deceased members of the Montresors rest here.  This, perhaps, is a representation of the many deaths in Poe’s family.  The dramatic imagery used to describe this underworld-like setting also helps set an ominous tone of darkness and decay.  The setting, as well as the intentions and attitude of the narrator towards Fortunato’s murder, clearly shows how Poe is captivated with death.           

            Like The Cask of Amontillado, the plot in The Pit and the Pendulum is focused around hatred and the determination to make an enemy die through pain and suffering.   In this case, the Spanish Inquisition, headed by the Roman Catholic Church, is determined to obliterate all heresy. The narrator, who was probably accused of heresy, is found guilty by the court and sentenced to death.  Dropped into a dark, damp, cave, the narrator wakes up from a dreamlike trance, completely unaware of his surroundings.   He feels his way around, and narrowly avoids a deep well in the center of the prison.  The narrator also discovers, with disgust, a large pendulum swinging at the top of the prison.  At the end of this brass pendulum, there is a razor-sharp steel point: obviously designed to kill.  He describes this continually lowering object, saying, “The odor of sharp steel forced itself into my nostrils.  I prayed—I wearied heaven with my prayer for its more speedy decent.  I grew frantically mad, and struggled to force myself upward against the sweep of the fearful scimitar.  And then I fell suddenly calm, and lay smiling at the glittering death, as a child at some rare bauble” (Poe, The Pit and the Pendulum).  This quote shows how the narrator, throughout the story, goes through various states of mind regarding his upcoming death.  At first, he wants to escape the terrible fate awaiting.  As time goes on, he becomes psychologically unstable, and hysterically wishes for the pendulum to hurry down.   Then, he becomes so exhausted, that the narrator can do nothing but lie down and stare the object that will cause him to die.  Poe, with this story, was delving into one’s mentality regarding their death.  The pendulum, constantly swinging back and forth, could be a symbol for the constant back-and-forth emotions the narrator experiences related to death.  The setting in itself is a symbol for the underworld, or Hell.  Though the narrator is sure that he will eventually die, at the very end, he is actually able to break free from the ropes in which he is trapped, and then, escape from the room as it closes in (with the help of a Frenchmen).   After all the torture he endured in the pit, and the death he expected, he escapes.  This story was published in 1843, in the midst of his wife’s bout of tuberculosis.  This happy ending may represent Poe’s hope for his wife, who had suffered through tuberculosis since 1841, overcoming her disease and escaping death.  Through The Pit and the Pendulum, Poe’s obsession with death is seen through symbolism and the possible relation between his life and the story. 

            Symbolism is also very much present in The Fall of the House of Usher.  This story, probably one of Poe’s most famous, is centered around Roderick Usher, the narrator’s boyhood friend, who calls upon the narrator for company.  Roderick inhabits a secluded, decaying mansion, and is afflicted with a curious malady.  He and his sister are the last living members of the family.  Upon entering the Usher residence, the narrator observes the condition of it, notes, “Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in the front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn” (Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher 8).   Though this minute crack may seem insignificant, it is a tactfully placed symbol used to foreshadow and upcoming event.  The fissure represents not only the breakdown of the physical structure, but also the disintegration of the Usher family.  When Madeline, Roderick’s twin sister, is thought to be dead, she is buried in a chamber beneath the house.  Madeline, in fact, is a cataleptic, and because of her condition, is unable to make any muscular movement (so they assume she is dead).  The narrator subtly mentions how the vault in which she is placed was used in feudal times as a dungeon.   Since Madeline is still alive while in it, the underground vault is used to symbolize a prison-like Hell (similar to The Cask of Amontillado and The Pit and the Pendulum).  She does manage to escape, though, and ends up collapsing on Roderick, who dies of fright.  Shortly after the death of the last two members, the abode falls to the ground.  Because of the all the death related symbolism in this story, Poe’s fascination with death is evident.

            The symbolism in this tale would not be nearly as effective if Poe did not use imagery and diction so artfully.  “It was indeed, a tempestuous yet sternly beautiful night, and one wildly singular in its terror and its beauty…there were frequent and violent alterations in the direction of the wind; and the exceeding density of the clouds (which hung so low as to press upon the turrets of the house) did not prevent our perceiving life-like velocity with which they flew careering from all points against each other…” (Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher 14-15).  This quote demonstrates the dramatic imagery used to enhance the gloomy, foreboding, tone.  It gives the reader a feeling of dread about the coming events.  The diction exhibited in this line, including words such as tempestuous, sternly, terror, violent, and velocity, also greatly contribute to the tone.  His word choice sets the stage for the climax of the story, which is certainly violent and terrible.  Poe uses these devices to foreshadow the destruction of Roderick’s house and family.  The Fall of the House of Usher could symbolize the dissolution of Poe’s own family.  The dark tone of the story showcases Poe’s focus on death through expressive diction and ominous imagery.  

            In the various masterpieces written by Edgar Allan Poe, his obsession with death is undoubtedly revealed with the help of parallelism, symbolism, and tone.  Poe definitely drew from his personal life when composing these stories, as shown in The Case of M. Valdemar, The Masque of Red Death, and possibly The Pit and the Pendulum, The Cask of Amontillado, and The Fall of the House of Usher.  Symbolism also strongly supports the theme of death.  The multiple underground vaults represent Hell, the clock in The Masque of Red Death connects time and death, the crack in the House of Usher foreshadows the downfall of the physical structure and the family, and the pendulum symbolizes the back and forth attitude towards death.  Imagery and diction are used effectively in every one of Poe’s pieces, helping to set a somber, morbid tone.  Poe is one of the most talented Gothic authors the world has ever seen, and was, without a doubt, obsessed with death.  

Bibliography

"Poe's Life." Poemuseum.org. Poe Museum, 2010. Web. 16 Mar. 2012.

"Chronology of the Life of Edgar Allan Poe." Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore. 1 Aug.         2010. Web. 14 Mar. 2012.

Carlson, Eric W. "Edgar Allan Poe Biography." UNet Users' Home Pages. Brandeis University.   Web. 13 Mar. 2012.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Masque of the Red Death." PoeStories.com. Web. 10 Mar. 2012.

Poe, Edgar Allan.  “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.” PoeStories.com. Web.  10 Mar.         2012

Poe, Edgar Allan. “The Cask of Amontillado.” PoeStories.com. Web. 10 Mar. 2012

Poe, Edgar Allan.  “The Pit and the Pendulum.”  PoeStories.com. Web. 11 Mar. 2012

Poe, Edgar Allan.  “The Fall of the House of Usher.”  PoeStories.com. Web.  8 Mar. 2012

The Deli Man's Wish

The Deli Man’s Wish

                The rain pitter-pattered softly on Mark’s window as he drove to work.   He squints out his window to sadly observe the acres of desolate farmland.  Corn fields once prosperous are now barren, the barns and farm houses deserted.  Alderson, Alabama, had been his home all his life, and all his high-school peers had migrated to cities where there was greater opportunity.   He, however, had never aspired to be anything but a grocery store employee: so Alderson is where he remained. 

                Mark pulled his rusty, mud-coated pickup truck into the Publix parking lot.  Opening the door and stepping out onto the cracked ground, he runs through the parking lot frantically, trying to avoid getting completely soaked by the now torrential down poor.  Through the howling wind and blinding precipitation, Mark hears a loud crash. He looks up, and faintly sees that the plastic “x” on the “Publix” logo plastered to the outside of the store has fallen to the ground, smashing into bits and pieces.  He is not surprised, considering this grocery store has been here since his grandparents were children, maybe even since his great-grandparents lived.  The absence of the x seems to match the rest of the ancient, decayed building. 

                After this thought, Mark continues his dash to the store.   The homeless man begging for money is at the entrance, his emaciated frame dressed in nothing more than tattered rags.  Mark, as usual, smirks, averts his gaze, and ducks into Publix through the creaky door. Though he could walk directly to his work station, he takes the longer route through the grocery store, just so he can steal a quick glance at her working in aisle five before taking his position behind the meat counter.  His gaze is so fixed on that particular aisle five worker that he clumsily drops his rain-drenched hat onto the dusty floor.  She never ceases to take his breath away.  Dressed simply in jeans and a Publix t-shirt, with her blond hair flowing in waves down her elegant back, Martha, the cashier clerk, is undoubtedly the most beautiful women in the world.   If only I had a chance, wished Mark hungrily. 

                He walks over to his deli counter and ties the faded and stained Publix apron around his lean frame.   Starting to prepare his meat, he hears a boisterous voice across the room calling his name.  The manager, Rick, is headed toward him.  “Marky Mark, my man!” shouts Rick cheerfully. Mark immediately feels a jolt of hatred accompanied by a severe pang of jealousy.  This man, kind, outgoing, and good-looking, is engaged to Martha.  And Mark has never despised a person more intensely in his life.

                As Rick patiently talks through the schedule with him, Mark is unable to focus on anything but the fact this man has stolen Martha.  Pictures of them together run through his head, and he shutters.  Mark glares with such enmity at the confident, pleasant face of his manager, he imagines that his eyes emit lasers that will make Rick disappear.  Rick mentions something about how the typical meat delivery man caught the flu and how a substitute will take his place, delivering the meat an hour later, but Marks pays little attention. 

                At nine o’clock in the morning, the meat delivery man has still not shown up.  Mark waits at his usual post outside, leaning against the rusted iron doors that lead to the meat storage room.  The usual pack of mangy hounds come wandering about, looking for their typical morning snack.  Mark goes inside to retrieve the unsold scraps of meat from yesterday.  He carelessly throws the scraps out, and the wild dogs scurry to retrieve it, their gnarled teeth chewing the tough meat gluttonously.   It has stopped raining, but the clouds remain, seeming even darker and more ominous than earlier.   The smoke from his cigarette diffuses into the air, and Mark looks down the road, inpatient to receive the delivery so he can get to work.  Out from the distance comes the truck, rattling noisily down the uneven road.  When it finally reaches Publix, the door opens and a short, almost elfin, man emerges from the driver’s seat.  He pulls his hood down and reveals a hairless head, a pair of deeply-set black eyes below thick, caterpillar-like brows, a pointed nose, and defined check bones.  His thin lips contort into a smile, and Mark shivers.  The man gestures to Mark with spindly, wrinkled fingers to come help him unload the meat from the back of the truck.  Mark follows, trying to shake the uneasiness this mysterious man causes him to feel.  

                After unloading all the meat from the truck into the storage room, the man catches Rick stealing a glance at Martha.  “So, you like her?” asks the strange man.  

                “I-I love her,” sputters Mark greedily.  “She is engaged to that damn Rick, though, so I don’t have a chance.” 

                “I know,” says the man eerily.  “I am here to help you.” 

                Mark stares at him in awe, unable to speak.  How could he possibly know about Martha? 

                “I’ll make you a deal,” the man whispers cajolingly, “I’ll take care of that manager, and make her fall in love with you…in exchange for you know what.”

                He couldn’t believe what was happening.  Is this person really who Mark thought he was?  Overcome with emotion, Mark doesn’t know what to do.  He then sees her blonde waves out of the corner of his eye, and decides that instant that anything is worth a chance with her.   “Do what you have to do,” Mark murmurs greedily, “to make her fall for me.” 

                “And you promise to stay with her and love her, no matter what?”

                “Yes, yes, of course,” Mark agrees without hesitation.  The two shake hands, and Mark watches the truck fade into the distance, still in disbelief of what just happened. 

                Suddenly, Mark hears an ear-splitting cry.  He hurries into Publix, and sees a throng of people surrounding an object.  He maneuvers his way through the crowd, and in the center, sees Martha bent over someone’s body.  Rick lies on the floor, his skin a ghostly white, his face paralyzed in an expression of shock, and his limbs seemingly frozen.  Mark bends down next to Martha and touches Rick’s hand, but pulls away instantly.  His body is indeed hard as a rock, and his skin cold to the touch.  This was the devil’s work, undoubtedly.  

                Faking an expression of grief and sorrow, Mark questions Martha to how this happened.  “I don’t know!” she cries, tears streaming down her face, “I heard a crash, and looked over to see that Mark had fallen to the ground.  Now he’s dead.”  Mark takes Martha in his arms, attempting to comfort her.  Filled with twisted satisfaction, a villainous grin slowly spreads across his face as Mark stares into Rick’s glassed over eyes.   

                Though Mark is fully aware he is the cause of her pain, not one trickle of guilt affronts him.  All he feels is joy that Rick has vanished from his life.  For the next few days, he is Martha’s comforter, caretaker...any emotional support she needs, he comes to her rescue.   He becomes something of a hero for her in this time of misery, holding her hand at the funeral, giving her a shoulder to cry on.  As promised by the meat delivery man, she soon fell in love with him, and to Mark’s delight, they became engaged. 

                Mark and Martha have a tiny wedding in the Alderson Town Hall on a cloudy, November afternoon, the weather similar to the day a month ago when he was granted his greatest wish.  Mark looks intently into her sky-blue eyes, thinking about how lucky he is.   She smiles up at him intently, and he returns the expression.  “Do you vow to love and care for each other, in sickness and in health?” the preacher narrates. 

“I do,” returns Mark.  With those two words, his fate is forever sealed. 

                It is agreed Mark will move in with Martha, seeing as his dingy, disheveled house outside of town would never do for married life.  They drive through town in his red pickup truck, with all of Mark’s possessions in the back.  Martha chatters excitably the whole way, talking about her beautiful house, and how she can’t wait to start their life together in it.  They pull up into the driveway, and Mark is startled.  The abode is scrawny and dilapidated, with an overgrown lawn, and paint peeling off the shingles.  They walk up to the door, carrying Mark’s few boxes he chose to bring from his home, and enter.  “Here it is…” she says.  “It’s a tad cluttered, but it’s the place I call home.  I hope you like it.”  Mark is shocked to see a myriad of porcelain dolls piled up as far as the eye can see.  Their beady eyes seem to mock him.  The walls and floors are completely undetectable beneath the frightening figurines.  “I collect them,” Martha whispers, looking up at him, smiling.  Mark doesn’t know what to think. 

                “Let’s go to the bedroom, where we can relax and I can unpack my things,” Mark says, hoping that the bedroom would not contain the terrifying figures. 

                “Oh, I usually just sleep here, around my girls.   With them next to you, it’s never lonely.  I’m so happy you could join our family, Mark.” 

                What have I gotten myself into?! Mark asks silently.   His palms become sweaty, and he suddenly feels very lightheaded. 

                “I…I forgot something at my apartment…I have to go…” Mark stutters.

                “Be back in time for dinner, sweetie!” Martha shouts to Mark as he rushes out the door, fumbling for his car keys. He frantically starts the car, and drives away speedily.  A million thoughts rush through his head.   He never wants to see that women again, but yet he knows he cannot go back on his promise with the meat-delivery man and leave Martha.   Maybe if he goes to Rick’s grave, and apologizes for his mistake, he can escape the deal, and move on from Martha without any consequences from the meat-delivery man. 

                Once he has arrived at the graveyard, he frenetically rushes from headstone to headstone.  Finally, he comes upon the one he is looking for.  Here lies Rick Singer, who died suddenly on September 24^th, 2011, from unknown causes.  Mark suddenly realizes the weightiness of the deed he did, taking an innocent young man’s life.  And oh, the hole he has dug himself into! Mark kneels beside Rick’s headstone, and, for the first time of his life, prays.  He prays to God in the heavens for forgiveness and redemption.   “Don’t make me go back to Martha, don’t let the devil take me!” he sobs into the sky. 

                Mark hears the grass rustle as something emerges from the bushes.  He screams, and turns around to see Martha staring intently at him.  “What’s been taking you so long?” she asks, a maniacal look in her eyes. “Come home, Marky, and we can have dinner!”

                “You know, Martha, I love you.  I really do,” Mark rambles, quivering all over.  “But I don’t think that this marriage thing is really for me...you understand, right?”  He looks into her face, and it is obvious isn’t going to let him go anywhere.  Realizing this, Mark bolts from Rick’s grave and runs from her as fast as he possibly can.  He hears a pair of eager footsteps close behind him.  Stumbling his way through the night, trying to lose Martha, he smashes into what he thinks at first is a small tree.  Then he feels a pair of spidery hands curl around his throat and a warm breath in his ear, whispering, “I granted your wish, and you have decided not to comply with my rules. Now, you can’t escape, and I get what you promised me…”

               After a few moments, the graveyard became silent.