How I hate the letter ‘D.’ What you have before you is probably
the third or fourth attempt at a story on this topic, and I
unfortunately broke the two rules I put before me on this project. 1)
No supernatural and 2) One week to write it. The first story was
done in a week, possibly even the second, but they were so unworthy
of having my name attached to them, I couldn’t even admit
ownership. It was at that point that I decided I’d sacrifice the
two rules for the sake of the integrity of the project. The result
is the story you have before you, and while it may not be the best
example of my writing, it is light years ahead of the shit that came
before it.
Daylight Saving Time
Many people see
Daylight Saving Time as nothing more than a nuisance, requiring you
to change your clocks twice a year. Few people know of the many
stories that revolve around this significant time change. However,
the people of Tampa Bay, Florida will always remember the “Daylight
Death Dealer,” a serial killer who killed two people a year, one on
the spring occurrence of DST, and another on the fall occurrence for
six years. He or she was never captured, however, during the seventh
year of DST when the people of Tampa Bay were waiting for the grim
affair, nothing happened. His methods of electrocution, and fatal
car accidents were attributed to a pro and con of DST, unfortunately
his reasons remain a mystery to this day.
Another instance
was the Savior Son, a child destined to be born on the 25 hour day,
and bring forth an enlightened age of men if he wasn’t sacrificed
on the 23 hour day, by those who feared his potential. His name is
whispered in underground religious circles, and preordained to return
on another 25 hour day, his protectors will be ready next time.
But not all
instances need be so morbid or grandiose as the first two. There was
also a pair of lovers, Cory and Leslie Bell, whose love was so
intertwined with this time of year, they may never have gotten
married if it weren’t for Daylight Saving Time. I know that
sparked you’re curiosity. Leslie, a beautiful young woman, fell in
love with Cory, a luckless dope, who had died on the first Sunday of
DST. They spent the following eight months together falling more in
love everyday. Unfortunately on the last day of DST in October, the
curse of their love was realized, the man who died that fateful hour
in March, returned to the dead. Then again in the following March,
on the anniversary of his death, Cory came home to her, who never
gave up hope on him. And so the curse went, during DST he was as
corporal as you, but in October he once again walked the Earth as an
apparition waiting to touch his love again. They lived this way for
many years, and even had several kids during their marriage until
Leslie passed away of natural causes. What happened to him his kids
never knew, but after their mother died he never returned.
But alas, this
isn’t a tale of an enduring love that was so strong it defied death
itself, but another man whose life and death revolved around Daylight
Saving Time. Charles Beck can’t explain it but ever since his
father passed away he felt different inside, and not in the way as
when his mother died, or in any way he thinks is normal. For most of
last year he felt weaker, if only slightly, but weaker. Also, which
he’s scared to say aloud, he feels older, and again not in the
normal sense an otherwise healthy 35 year old would. Then,
inexplicably one day he woke up feeling great, almost youthful. His
wife, who hadn’t noticed his ‘weaker’ or ‘older’ state, had
noticed her husband reinvigorated and rejuvenated. Every night that
week they had better sex then either of them ever had, and it seemed
to just get better.
But as sure as DST
ends, it begins again and this year Charles had noticed his decline
in health, which was greater than last year, seemed to be correlated
more to Daylight Saving Time, than the passing of his father. All
doctors he saw said that this was just a coping mechanism his mind
was using for dealing with the passing of his father. Even Charles’
private physician, who had noticed a change in Charles, agreed with
the other doctors, saying that this change was his mind’s way of
forcing him to deal with these pent up feelings that he was hiding or
ignoring.
Always having been
a man of faith Charles turned to the church, which unfortunately,
even devastatingly, had no answers that appeased Charles. Seeing no
solution or at least an answer to what ales him, Charles was at the
end of his rope. Then one Sunday morning in October he woke up
feeling like a new man. Newly formed wrinkles vanished from his
face, he had an extra hop in his step, and again he connected this
change to DST. Unfortunately, this joyous realization was
accompanied with the realization that come March chances were he
would revert to his weaker state.
And sure enough
when Daylight Saving Time began again he seemed to age almost five
years, in actuality it was six, but Charles wouldn’t figure the
pattern out until later, until it was too late. His wife, who had
the patience that only few females possessed, stayed by his side
through it all. On his 38th birthday, although at his
point in June he looked to be in his 50’s, Teresa took him to a
fortune teller, unrealistically thinking this may be able to help her
Chuck, with whatever was cursing him. But as much as Charles and
Teresa doubted it, MadaM ZadaZ noticed something was wrong with him
the moment he sat down at her table. “I see you are stressed, you
were right in seeking my assistance.”
“Oh my God Chuck!
She can tell something’s wrong, maybe she’ll know how to help.”
“Calm down
Teresa, if there was nothing wrong I wouldn’t be here, isn’t that
right MadaM ZadaZ?”
In a better ‘Mrs.
Cleo’ accent than even Mrs. Cleo has, which is surprising for a
white girl from California, MadaM ZadaZ asks Charles, “So you do
not believe in the abilities of MadaM ZadaZ?”
“No, I don’t
believe in the abilities of someone who has to say their own name so
often. You say I’m stressed, big surprise, tell me something you
don’t say to every other person who walks in that door.”
MadaM ZadaZ begins
laughing, and not just a chuckle but a full belly roar, that
frightens Teresa, but angers Charles. So much so, without another
word he gets up out of his seat, grabs Teresa’s arm and strides
towards the door.
“You’re younger
than you look.” MadaM says as Charles is reaching for the doorknob.
Stopping in his tracks MadaM continues. “And that’s not
something you were used to hearing until this year. Is that the kind
of thing you wanted to hear Mr. Beck?”
Shocked Teresa
asks, “How did you know? How do you know our last name we never
told you.”
Again MadaM laughs
explaining, “It was on the credit card you paid with, what wasn’t
on the card, is that you, Mr. Beck, are only in you’re mid
thirties. MadaM ZadaZ believes you are cursed.”
Slowly beginning to
have faith in the MadaM, Charles inquires further, “Cursed? How
could I have become cursed? Why am I cursed?”
“Usually when
people are cursed and they can’t recall being cursed they inherited
the curse from a loved one that just passed away. Have you recently
lost someone?”
“Yes! My father
died shortly before I began having these weak phases, but they would
end when… and I know this sounds dumb (but so do fortunetellers)…
they would end at the end of Daylight Saving Time in October. And
then, then they would start again in March after Daylight Saving Time
would start. Does that make sense at all?”
“It’s not
uncommon for curses to be anchored to something else; objects,
places, people, or in your case times. But I am sorry my knowledge
and abilities are in fortunes not curses, I can give you a contact of
mine who may be able to help.”
Feeling relieved
for the first time since this whole ordeal started, Charles thanks
MadaM ZadaZ, and apologizes for doubting her, before he goes on his
way with Teresa to the MadaM’s friend. Little does he know that
MadaM was right in thinking that this was out of her league, but
grossly wrong in thinking this was a curse.
“Wait a second,
Mister Moloft, what do you mean this is worse than a curse?”
With clear
frustration in his voice, “MASTER, Master Molloph, and this is
worse because, curses have cures, there is no cure for you. You are
possessed.”
“What?”
What?
“What?”
“I’m possessed?
Like as in the devil is in my body?”
“Yes and no. You
are possessed but it’s not by the devil, nothing that powerful,
probably not even a demon, but take this not lightly you are
possessed. You share your body with an apparition who’s using you
as a vessel, trying to expel you from, well, you.”
“But what does
this have to do with Daylight Saving Time and me?”
“This apparition
must have a close link to Daylight Saving Time making it more
powerful during this time.”
“Oh my God! My
dad, my dad died around that time. I’m possessed by my father. Is
that possible?”
“Not only is it
possible, it sounds likely. You’re father probably doesn’t even
know it. He was most likely on his way to the afterlife, but the
dead are most powerful in the days after their death, while
simultaneously you were at your weakest state when mourning your
father.”
“So what you’re
telling me is that reason, if you can call it that, dictates that my
father’s spirit accidentally possessed me after he died, while I
was morning him, and now he’s forcing me out of my own body.”
Unable to comprehend what he himself just said, Charles rises from
his chair and begins pacing the room.
Uncomfortable with
the silence, Teresa has to ask the obvious question, “What are we
going to do? You said there’s no cure, nothing we can do. My
husband is going to continually age every year during Daylight Saving
Time, until his father finally wins and kicks him out of his own
body?”
As calm as ever, as
if this were an everyday occurrence Master Molloph states, “True I
said there was no cure but there are several things we can do. For
instance the logical step would be to have a séance, to try and
communicate with your father, Charles, letting him know of the
situation. In cases of accidental possession this usually works,
however, if this does not work we could try an exorcism…”
“Excuse me? Did
you just say ‘we could try an exorcism.’ What are you a rebel
priest curing curses on the side? Because correct me if I’m wrong
but I was under the impression that only priests can perform
exorcisms. I get sent here because you’re partner thought I was
cursed, but it turns out worse than that, yet you can still help.
What the hell is going on here. And if you could exorcize me, what
happens to my father, I don’t want his eternal soul banished to
hell, or snuffed out of existence, or whatever happens to exorcised
spirits. He may be dead but he’s still my father, and how do we
know he won’t just ‘accidentally’ possess someone else?”
“Chuck breath!”
Teresa has to cut her husband’s rant short. All these questions
were beginning to make her feel sick. “I’m sure Master was
prepared to answer those questions already. Right Master Molloph?”
“Absolutely dear
Teresa.” Molloph answers in his signature calm swagger. “You
are right, a priest can only perform exorcisms on demons, but as I
said earlier this isn’t a demon. Of course now you are wondering,
‘How does he know it’s not a demon?’ And rightfully so, but
the answer is simple, my meager abilities wouldn’t be able to
detect a demon. As for what will happen if we do the exorcism, let
us wait to see if it is even necessary, as I said with most
accidental possessions the séance will work.” Molloph pauses to
allow the information to sink into Charles’ mind, and give him time
to calm down. After several minutes Charles’ breathing begins to
return to normal and he takes his seat once again. Molloph now
continues with some bad news, “However, séance of this caliber
are quite taxing on me and need preparation, and how shall I say
this, resources.”
Disgusted at the
implications Charles responds coldheartedly, “I have money to pay
for this but you won’t see one cent until I return to normal.”
“Very well, I
meant no harm, but simply put this is my chosen career and a career
which needs revenues. I apologize and beg your forgiveness.
Unfortunately, by ‘preparations’ I meant two nights meditation.
Return in three night’s time and all shall be prepared.”
Charles and Teresa
left Master Molloph’s ‘place of business’ with very few words.
In actuality they spoke very few words for the next three days.
Neither felt particularly happy or sad. They had reason to be upset
for simply being in the situation, but as any optimist would point
out they also had reason to be happy for this conflict was about to
meet it’s end. But how wrong they were. If they knew of the
incredible depths of shit they were about to step in they would never
be happy again, truth be told one of them may never have the chance
to be happy again.
Charles and Teresa
returned to Master Molloph’s gaudy trailer home as scheduled,
anxious to get this awful ordeal over with. After the customary
pleasantries, Molloph and Charles sit across from one another with a
picture of Charles’ father placed between the two. Molloph began
the séance by lighting several ceremonial candles, chanting
non-English gibberish, and igniting earthly aromatic incense creating
an atmosphere that Charles hasn’t experienced since his college
hippie days. Trying to clear his head of such thoughts, Molloph
instructs to do just such a thing. “Okay Charles, I want you to
clear your mind of all thoughts save your father. Concentrate on the
picture before you and think of a specific time with your father,
preferably a happy one. Let the aroma take over, let the lights calm
you, and think. Go to that particular moment with your father… Are
you there? Just nod don’t speak… Good, now I want you to think of
what you would tell your father at this very moment. Would you warn
him of his death, would you tell him you love him, or would you
simply relive the time you had with him? Do you have it? Do you know
what you would say? Good, now take my hands. Okay, now I want you
to envision your father to be here in the room with us, picture him
just as he is in your memory. You see him? Good, now tell him those
words you have with you now in your heart. Tell him out loud, all the
emotions you have within you. Don’t mind my incantations, just
continue talking.”
“Dad you remember
when I was just a little kid, here in this very park and you taught
me how to throw a football? I never did learn too well, but I always
loved the fact that you tried. You always tried no matter what the
task was, you always tried. Even when mom died and me and Jill
started to slip away, you held us together. You said we’re a
family always, and that brothers and sisters don’t give up when one
parent dies, or even when both. You said that’s when we need to be
even stronger. And you were right, even to this day me and Jill talk
everyday, we’re closer than ever because of you. Because you never
gave up, you always tried. Even when the odds were impossible, so
why did you do it? Why did you kill yourself? You had me and Jill
we were there for…”
Charles is cut off
by Teresa’s gasp. Finally the spirit that was possessing her
husband came out. “Charles look! It’s… it’s not your
father?”
Fully snapping out
of the daze the candles put him in, Charles realizes she’s right.
There’s some ghost or something in the room but it’s not his
father, he doesn’t even look older than Charles, or what Charles
should look like. Molloph, too weak from the séance slumps over
barely conscious. Charles and Teresa begin slowly moving for the
door backwards, keeping an eye on the ghost in the room, that seems
to pay them no mind. Teresa turns to Charles to ask him what they
should do, but notices that he looks young again. It’s only the
middle of June and he looks young again. “It worked!” Teresa
yells, and instantly realizes the folly of her actions.
The ghost turns to
her and floats directly towards her. Both her and Charles too scared
and in shock to move allow the ghost to come close enough to touch
her. It’s touch is so cold, she instantly goes numb. Realizing
his wife is in peril, snaps Charles out of shock, sending him in a
fury of punches that pathetically pass though their intended target
every time. Understanding he can’t do anything offensively to the
ghost, Charles resorts to defense, by grabbing Teresa by the arm and
forcing her out. The ghost begins to float towards them stumbling,
crawling on the floor but stops abruptly. This clever ghost
nonchalantly returns to the trailer, leaving the couple in peace.
Once in the trailer
again the ghost finds exactly what he was looking, Master Molloph, a
human with a spiritually weakened body. The ghost enters this new
vessel and finds the struggle-free home he’s been looking for. A
nameless, formless, ghost no more, he is now Mister Molloph, and
happy to have a home.
And who am I you
may be wondering? Well I’m quite disappointed you haven’t
figured it out. I’m Cory Bell, the luckless dope that was cursed
by love. See, after my wife died, the bond that kept me on earth
remained but wasn’t strong enough to keep bringing my body back
with it, so I became a wraith. That’s right a wraith possessing
people, but still with a curse based on Daylight Saving Time. I mean
you should have seen it coming. Guy in love, with a weird curse
around DST, Cory Bell: Charles Beck; CB and CB. Honestly I picked
the guy for his name alone, little did I know his wife would remind
me so much of my own, Leslie. Her unfailing love, her fortune to
fall for a dimwit like me, sorry like Charles, spending 6 years in a
guy does things to your mind you don’t want to know.
After Charles was
free of me, he and Teresa went on to have a happy life in Tampa Bay.
Oh I didn’t tell you? Yes, they lived in Tampa Bay as well, just
like me and Leslie. That’s right so did the Daylight Death Dealer,
although I never liked the name, I figured I’d live up to the name,
of course that was until I found good ole Charles Beck who was kind
enough to give me a few year ride.
Well time to find
out what this fat gypsy slob can do. Ta ta for now.
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What? Why are you
still here? Oh you want to know how the Savior Son ties into all
this. Well you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, right?
