Old Nick
Death has marred his family. In his short eleven years both his grandmother’s had passed, his grandfather on his mother’s side, four aunts, two uncles and his father. He took his father’s death the hardest, as would be expected. It however brought him closer to his grandfather, which his mother disapproved of. The morning of December 14th was the last time he saw his father, the morning before the accident. It was a morning like any other, a school day for Trevor and off to the grind for dad. He never came home, and Trevor never saw him again. He attended the funeral but his mother forbid him from ‘viewing’ his father, “It just isn’t appropriate” she insisted. Again, someone in Trevor’s life was dying. He would get to see the dead before they died, Grandfather was in the hospital. Mother didn’t want him to come, too see his grandfather sickly as he was. Grandfather insisted though, “He’s my only grandson, I want to him before I die.” In the bed, tucked tightly in was his grandfather, William Samuel Nick, proper. Grandfather is what he always called him; Old Nick is what all the grown-ups called him. Trevor watched the drab colored blanket rise then fall, accompanied by a deep sucking of wind, then a relieved push of air. There were all kinds of things running along side grandfather, machines beeping, hanging bags, and another machine that buzzed periodically then displayed a bunch of numbers. He watched the display for a moment; it blinked the numbers 140, 70, and 82. They meant nothing to Trevor but he did find some interest in the bright red LCD. “Trevor?” A fragile voice drew his attention quickly away. “Grandfather,” he answered quietly. “Come in lad, don’t be a loiterer.” Grandfather pulled a hand from beneath the covers and motioned him to enter. Trevor did as his grandfather asked, creeping slowly across the room. “Come, Swizzle, I won’t bite.” Swizzle was Grandfather’s pet name. Swizzle was one nickname he liked. Mother hated it when grandfather called Trevor that. Grandfather named him after his favorite red swizzle stick, which was decorated with large breasted naked woman. “It is inappropriate for a child,” she would complain. That never stopped grandfather. Trevor stood next to grandfather’s bed. He followed the tubes that lead from his arms to the bags that hung over the bed. “Don’t be afraid Swizzle, it’ll be okay.” Grandfather patted the bed for Trevor to sit. Trevor sat softly next to his grandfather. “Swizzle, I won’t break,” grandfather smiled at him. Trevor returned a half smile. “Hi, grandfather.” “Thanks for coming Swizzle. And thanks for coming to the room alone.” “It’s what you asked me to do grandfather.” Trevor answered. Grandfather brushed his hand over his arm; Trevor watched the wrinkled leathery skin as it scratched its way over his young, delicate skin. “You always do as I ask. You’re such a good lad.” Grandfather turned his head, coughing hoarsely. The coughing was something Trevor was use to; it was something grandfather always did. It didn’t bother Trevor, just raised his concerns that he would be all right. Mother would nag that it was the cigarettes and that he was giving Trevor the wrong impression. Trevor knew better though, he knew not to smoke. Grandfather told him it was a bad habit that one day would kill him. “You know Swizzle my time is near. I wanted a moment with just my Swizzle before I move on.” “No! Grandfather don’t die.” Trevor began to sob, throwing his arms over grandfather. All the fears and feelings he had kept pent up the last few weeks released themselves through sorrowful eyes. Mother forbid him from seeing grandfather, in fact she never came to the hospital to see him. The doctor called her from the hospital with grandfather’s dying wish. Mother argued with the doctor, but grandfather’s wishes won out. Mother tried to prepare Trevor, to desensitize him. “Old Nick will get his, all those years of smoking and drinking have finally caught up with him. Just like your father.” Father, yes, he was dead. But he died in a car accident, at least that’s what everyone said, but mother. She said it was because he was a “stupid drunk like his father.” Trevor didn’t know what that meant, he only knew his father was dead and grandfather was all he had left. “Don’t cry for me Swizzle. I’ve led a long and good life. In all those years I am left with only one regret." Grandfather brushed his hand through Trevor’s hair. “Do you know what a regret is Swizzle?” Trevor still lay on his grandfather’s chest; the warm hand of grandfather’s soothed his sorrow as it rubbed over his back. “No,” he said. Grandfather chuckled, “Of course not Swizzle, at your age there should be no regrets. Regret is something you may have when you’re older. It’s something you wanted to do real bad but for whatever reason you didn’t.” Trevor sat up; he looked down at his hands. “Then I have a regret,” he said. Grandfather smiled, “Now, what kind of regret could you have Swizzle?” A tear rolled down Trevor’s pink cheek, “I regret not going down to the fishing hole with you last month.” Trevor looked up at grandfather, his eyes welled. “Mother wouldn’t let me, she said you were sick and she didn’t want me getting sick too.” Grandfather held out his arms, pulling Trevor closer. “Your mother is a god damn whore, bitch Swizzle andI’m sorry for you that she has to be your mother.” Trevor was silent, resting comfortably on his
grandfather’s chest he listened to the gurgling of his tired lungs. “Who cares
about her, she means little to us. I wanted to tell you about a gift my father gave me,
one I was going to pass on to your father. A gift I never used. A gift I never knew, until
now. The powers of the gift never revealed to me until now. “When I was much older than you are, in my early twenties my father died. Before he died he gave me this gift, the one I would like to give to you.” Trevor’s eyes brightened with curiosity, “What gift grandfather?” Grandfather smiled, settling into his pillow he told Trevor of the gift his father gave to him, the gift he wanted to pass on to his only grandchild. “Before my father died he passed the light
of life to me. A light he never used, explored, or explained. I held this gift within me
for nearly forty years. It wasn’t until recently, since I’ve been in this God
forsaken hospital, have even I explored this gift. “I have now however, and I
understand its power. I know now why my father never used its power. He Trevor listened to his grandfather, he
didn’t understand what he meant, but he listened. “Swizzle take my hand and let
me show you the gift.” Grandfather held out his hand, which Trevor took
willingly. Trevor fell onto his grandfather’s chest; both of them lay still in the
hospital room. Their silence only broken by the sounds of the monitors and Grandfather stroked Trevor’s quivering hand, trying to comfort him. “There is nothing to be afraid of Swizzle, I’m here.” Trevor moved closer to his grandfather, as he was lead down a long dark corridor. At the end of the corridor was a wooden door, stained in varying colors from a deep brown to an autumn yellow. Trevor stood at the door with his grandfather, “Behind this door is your gift,” he said. The wooden door opened slowly, a disturbing squeal accompanied the motion of the door. Then, silence. Grandfather walked though the door first; his arm extended out behind him as Trevor remained in place. He looked up at his grandfather who had all but disappeared into the shadows, ”I’m scared,” he said. “Come.” Grandfather pulled Trevor though the door and into the darkness, then released his hand. “Grandfather?” Trevor’s voice crackled though the darkness. There was no answer; Trevor stood, trembling in the darkness alone. “Grandfather! Please I’m scared,” Trevor began to cry as he felt the darkness close in on him. He sat; pulling his knees up into his chest and began to sob. “Swizzle,” his grandfather’s voice cut through the darkness. “Grandfather?” “Swizzle walk this way?” Grandfather said. “Which way?” Trevor looked into the darkness, nothing. “Where are you?” “Here, follow my voice. Swizzle come to my voice.” Trevor stood; slowly he walked in the direction of grandfather’s voice. “Good lad, come, come to your grandfather, come to Old Nick.” Trevor stepped gingerly though the darkness by the coaching of his grandfather. With each step closer he came the darkness filtered away. With each step he took towards his grandfather, light penetrated the darkness. Trevor stood before his grandfather, who stood
upright, strong, not the same frail grandfather who lay on the hospital bed mere moments
before. He stood beneath a radiant stream of light that glowed from the heavens
above. Trevor wrapped his arms around grandfather. He squeezed tight with relieved
affection, affection that his grandfather did not “What’s the matter grandfather?” Trevor asked looking up with a smile. Trevor’s smile was returned by a stern look of disgust. “You cry at the doorstep of your gift? Trevor you disappoint me.” Trevor lowered his eyes; he watched the floating ground beneath his feet. The million specs of dirt seem to float by him like a million stars in a revolving heaven. Grandfather pushed Trevor’s chin up. “Behold your gift and be grateful,” he said angrily. Trevor screamed, turning he tried to run from the beast that Grandfather reveled to him, but he couldn’t. Grandfather held Trevor by the cuff, allowing the boy to wheel his legs until they tired. “Be thankful boy,” Grandfather insisted over Trevor’s crying. “Stop your crying at once!” Trevor looked back at Grandfather, and did as he asked. He sucked back the tears and stood motionless. No matter the fear he felt at that moment, no matter where his Grandfather had taken him, with he felt the safe. Trevor watched the beast as it slithered towards them. It, the beast, had no legs but had lanky arms attached to a thick elongated body. It appeared to have no face, simply two slits that bled freely a deep crimson, almost black fluid. The beast moved closer, revealing deep scars though out its torso. The scars would periodically part and through the opening small wailing heads appeared. Trevor recoiled, looking up at the faceless beast. Staring, studying its ‘skin’ covered face. Trevor moved closer to Grandfather, as the beast spoke. “Welcome Old Nick. So, good of you to return.” Its voice was rickety, vocalizing each word in long, thoughtful strokes. “As always, it is a pleasure to be in your company, father.” Grandfather said, bowing at the waist. The slits on the face of the beast lowered down the torso, eye level with Trevor. “And who is this?” Trevor squeezed his eyes shut, released a small whimper as he hid behind grandfather’s leg. “Come,” Grandfather pulled Trevor in front of him. “This is my grandson, Trevor.” Grandfather spoke with great pride, as if he were introducing Trevor to a friend. “Ah,” the slits rose the length of the torso, back from where they came. “Then he is your donation?” “Yes.” “Grandfather?” Trevor looked up as the beast held out a hand for him. “Go, it is my gift to you.” “No,” Trevor cried trying to pull away from grandfather. “Swizzle, it is your destiny. This is your home. With him,” grandfather pointed back at the beast, “you will know eternal life, here you will live forever.” “No, grandfather. I’m afraid, let go,” Trevor tried to kick his grandfather, tried to pull himself free. He wanted to run, run anywhere. Run into the darkness, as long as it was far from his grandfather and the monster he had brought him to. “No! Boy. Never will I let you go, you are my salvation.” Trevor felt his feet lift from the ground as he swung around grandfather, landing hard in front of the beast. “Grandfather,” Trevor wept as the beast took him in his hands and consumed him. “Youth is yours Old Nick, my son, go. I will be waiting.” Grandfather bowed, “I will deliver you a soul in time, a soul at the steps of my death. A soul for everlasting life.” Grandfather laughed wildly at the notion. As he stepped away, he looked back at the small
head that protruded from the newest scar upon the beast, “Grandfather, please,”
it cried. “Trevor, please.” The nurses and doctor stood back, having turned the monitors off; they waited to carry out their duties. The doctor pronounced grandfather dead at 10:25 a.m., December 14th, the day his son died. “Sweetheart,” mother took Trevor’s hand and pulled him away from grandfather. “Trevor?” Trevor whipped his head around. “Fine! You God damn whore bitch. I’m dead, I’m dead, you happy now?” Mother stepped back; her eyes registered her disbelief as Grandfather’s voice burst from the lungs of her son. June 2000 HofP |