Fireworks

Behind our home was a field that gave way to a wall of undergrowth and tall trees. In winter, when leaves and vines wither, the slope reveals toys lost long ago. In the summer, the wayward toys hide beneath deceptive layers of green life and shadow. In the South, summer is the season of concealment. Who knows what’s hidden deep when summer grows a thick covering.

A gentle breeze cooled the usual scorching afternoon heat. I flipped the burgers down beside the brats on the backyard grill while my little boy ran up and down the hill, clutching his favorite toy, a space ranger action figure. After hours of playing in the inflatable swimming pool, my three daughters sat relaxing in the shade. Inside, my wife busied herself preparing coleslaw, potato salad, and slices of juicy watermelon.

A heart-wrenching cry erupted from the top of the hill. Through his tears, my boy pointed towards the ditch, and I noticed that his spaceman was missing. This toy had been a birthday gift from my father in law the year before. He had lived with us for five years before his unexpected death last March. To my wife, the toy was tied up with her father’s love for his only grandson.

My son clutched tightly until his tears subsided, and then I handed him to my oldest daughter. I went to the garage and grabbed a machete. Hopefully, the toy hadn’t fallen too far, and hopefully, there wasn’t a copperhead lying beneath the tangled thicket. I tied off a rope for balance as I cut through the steep downward sloping thicket.

Slashing through the brush, I noticed the plastic toy glimmering just a few steps in. I began to rush to cut my way down the ditch. On my final swing my machete ricocheted off something under the dense growth. Losing my balance, I fell down, tearing through thorns and underbrush. I crashed to a halt, and groaned. There was no climbing back up. I’d have to take the long way round, along the riverbank, until I reached the road that led back to our neighborhood.

I yelled, “Girls, I’m okay. I have to walk the long way around to get back. I’ll be about five or ten minutes.”

No response… I yelled again…

Silence…Maybe they had gone inside.

I stumbled over uneven ground. Out of the dark woods came vicious growls. Looking out, I saw a mountain lion, a coyote, and a brown bear hemming me in. I heard a  voice and saw a figure stretching out a radiant hand.

“Come. See.”

The snarling subsided as the specter grasped my hand. I was overwhelmed by a rapid succession of terrifying images. The horrible depths of earned torment, eternal regret, and hopelessness. The images were a confusing jumbled horror. A dark pit lit from a single opening. Crowds of people sleepwalking through the opening into the formless and dark expanse. Dull shadowy figures swarming the crowds in a blanket of darkness. In a flurry of movement all the color was drained from those entering the pit and they resembled the dull shadowy figures already there. Dreadful flames shot up as the scene unfolded. I looked closer at the crowd and recognized an old man from my hometown entering through the gate. I yelled at him to turn back but he continued to step forward in a trance. He was surrounded by the dark swarm and drained of his color. I could barely distinguish him from the other shadows. As I watched this scene, I noticed a detail I’d missed at first. The shadows looked more defined when they drained the color from the men entering. From formless blobs to the shadows of men. I could see hints of color and form in the shadow-people for a moment afterwards.

“What am I seeing?” I asked my guide.

“The dead feed on the newly departed entering the gates. What you see is Death’s summer when its reality is hidden by a steady supply of new souls. One day the gates will close and no souls will ever enter those gates again. The dead will be rotted from within. They will be worse than nothing. Only their own dying will remain, frozen in hunger for all eternity. That is the dreadful Winter of this place. Be warned. Memento mori.”

I could take no more of the vision.  My mind collapsed into blankness.

Gradually, I felt wetness on the back of my head and neck. I woke from my nightmare and heard my girls screaming in the distance.

“DAD! DAD! DAD!”

I weakly replied, “Hold on. I’m fine. Just gimme a minute.

I’d only rolled halfway down the ditch held up by a stand of thin birch saplings.

“Hey, girls, is the rope still hanging from the pear tree? “

“YES, DADDY!” All of my girls replied.

“Alright, see if you can pass it down to me”

They bickered for a minute about who would hold their little brother and who would fiddle with the rope. After what felt like an hour but was probably only a few minutes, the rope finally dropped within reach. Grabbing it, I pulled myself upright and slowly scrambled out of the ditch.

“Now, girls, let’s not exaggerate what happened, or Mom’s gonna get worked up.”

Stepping inside, my wife glanced up and gasped, “What on Earth happened to you?”

“Will lost a toy by the ditch. I slipped a little when I tried to grab it. I’m fine.”

My body said otherwise. My wife frowned and tilted her head. She looked suspiciously when another thought overwhelmed her.

“Oh, no! That wasn’t Will’s Spaceman toy, was it?”

I hesitated. Before I could speak, Will came bouncing through, making flying noises, holding his favorite toy. Thank Heavens for small miracles.

“No, I guess I got it back.”

My wife continued, “Dave, you better take a shower; you look like you’ve been to Hell and back.”

Memento mori.