It Shall Be Revealed [short story] | Art prompt Writing Contest #4

“On the 11th day of the 11th month, the morning sun casting a ray on Red Hunter’s Pond will bring forth a being of light that takes you to the Gate of Death. There you can talk to your dad and ask him the question.

All you need is to have with you a firefly in a jar, a silver spoon and an issue of the New York Times from July 6th 1987. Oh, and a compass.

Don’t worry, it shall be revealed later.

So you first get the items. Fireflies you can find in Chinatown, just ask around, the silver spoon you take from your grandma’s set and the paper from the NY Library. Borrow it if you can, steal it if you must.

Now, to find the pond you take the express night train to Hudson, two hour trip north from Penn Station. Don’t take your car. It’s very important not to drive there yourself.

Don’t worry, it shall be revealed later.

You can then take an Uber across the Van Winkle bridge and stop in Cairo town, at the end of Jones Road. From there you go on foot. Oh, three more things. You have to wear rubber boots, the Uber driver has to be a childless woman, and you have to pay her with this necklace. Give her money, too, but she needs to accept this necklace. Here, take it.

Don’t worry, it shall be revealed later.

So you got to the end of Jones Road. Now you have to find Trout Brook creek, which is half a mile west across the forest. Straight on. You get out your compass – oh, it has to be your father’s compass from when he was an Eagle Scout. He left it to you in his will, remember? Yes, make sure you have it.

Once you’re at the creek you have to walk through the shallow water, up the little valley until the creek forks. You stop at the fork. Get out the jar with the firefly. Use the compass, make sure you face west – you’ll see the top of a mountain, that’s Black Dome. First look at the mountain, then close your eyes and unscrew the jar lid to let the firefly out. Count to 11 until you open your eyes. The firefly can’t look into your eyes as it flies off. It’s very important.

Don’t worry, it shall be revealed later.

Now, you take the left-hand fork. Be sure to take the left one. From here you have about 500 more feet until the water source. When you get there, you get your boots and socks out. Leave them. Go barefoot. It has to be that way. Red Hunter's Pond is just 100 feet away to the south of the source. It’s a long, narrow pond with clear banks. If you’ve done everything right, you’re there before the sun is out.

Go on the pond’s edge, and get out the Times. Unfold it and build a 11 feet by 11 feet square out of the pages. Tear them up if you have to – except for the date – but it has to be that size. And make sure there are no anthills there. You can’t step on an anthill. It’s very important.

Don’t worry, it shall be revealed later.

Now you sit down on the newspaper square. You get out the silver spoon and you put it in your mouth, the handle pointing east. Close your eyes and wait there until the sun comes up through the trees.

When you can see a faint glow through your closed eyelids that’s when you know it’s starting. You start breathing in slowly through your nose. Breath out through your mouth. Breath in through the nose. Out through the mouth. Like that for 11 breaths. 11 in, 11 out. Then you open your eyes.

You will see a tiny speck of light on the other side of the pond, in the bank. That’s the sign. Now, what follows next is very, very important. Make sure you write this down. Look towards the little light and...”

The nurse barged in right as her mother was finishing her instructions.

“Nooo! Wait!”

“It’s 11:11 Mrs. Hampton, time for your medication! And morning visiting hours are long past over, Miss Hampton. Your mother has to rest. Come back tomorrow!”

“But, nurse, I have to tell her. It’s a matter of life and death,” said the mother.

“Yes, yes, please why don't you let her finish,” the daughter intervened.

The nurse gave them a stare of rehearsed compassion that quickly turned firm.

“Your mother will be here tomorrow, too.” And she led Miss Hampton out, then quickly turned back and shut the door behind her.

In a daze of anger and confusion Miss Hampton walked to the end of the ward. She went down the escalators, crossed the eerie plastic-white hallway to the exit, and then walked past reception. She was almost out the door, when the receptionist – a young woman with red hair – called her back.

“Miss, you forgot your purse.”

Yes, the purse. She had to leave it back for some unexplained reason, that seemed very important. Clinic policy?

As the receptionist was handing back her purse, she leaned over the desk and whispered in a low voice:

“Miss Hampton, please make sure you wear your purse on your left shoulder when you get out through the revolving doors. Oh, and take out your shoes. It’s very, very important. And don’t worry, it shall be revealed later.”

Her mouth froze open. What did she just hear?

She grabbed her purse and began stepping away backwards from the reception desk, sliding her hand into the purse. She felt something. Something that wasn’t there before.

Glass. A glass jar. And something was rattling inside of it like crazy.

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© C.S.Begu, All Rights Reserved

This is my submission to the Art Prompt Writing Contest #4. Thank you @gmuxx for the opportunity. And, to readers, I would be interested in feedback on the emotions that you felt in the various parts of the story or even an overarching sensation. I'm fascinated on how sequences of words and sentences can generate emotions.

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My intro

Read another story I wrote