Presence of Death

Presence of Death

Wade Mars had been sitting at his computer desk waiting for death for the past five hours.
He stared past the blank screen at the door to his home office. The dime, orange glow from the side lamp lit the only room in the otherwise dark house.
A look at his watch; ten minutes left.
All he would do had been done. Wade tactfully planned a few days away in a cabin out in the mountains with his wife, Miranda, and twin boys, Kenny and Jason. He opened the offer to take his brother-in-law and his wife and kids so Miranda and the boys were not alone when Wade got “called into work”. Thankfully they graciously accepted.
Wade took the packet of cigarettes from next to the over-flowing ash-tray and lit one up before pouring himself his sixth whisky, smoke drifting from his hand and danced elegantly into the room. He necked the first, poured, and sipped at another.
All the things to do on your last night alive, Wade could think of nothing other than surround himself with photos of the family he would never see again, smoke cigarettes, and drink himself to oblivion. So that’s exactly what he did.
He held his cigarette in between shaky fingers and drew in another drag, releasing the smoke from his nose when the clock on the wall turned 11:55pm; five minutes left.
The lamp began to flicker and Wade’s nerves grew with every mocking blink. He reached for the glass and chucked it back, the kick weaker then before.
With one last drag, Wade stumped the cigarette in the ash-tray, smoke escaping from the mass of nub ends. He gave up on the glass and just opened the bottle, drinking from the neck. His leg began to jump with the rhythm of his heart as the clocked struck 12:00am.
The light died, leaving Wade in the black of night. He tensed as he heard the footsteps coming from the stairs and felt for the whisky bottle on the desk. He found it and took three big gulps, this time it stung his eye’s but Wade pinched away the moisture. The footsteps came down the hall and stopped what seemed like just outside the door.
Wade Mars waited in silence, his heart thumping in his ears. When nothing came, he struggled for the lamp switch and flicked it twice. First there was nothing but the second lit the room an orange glow. He looked beyond his desk, all was as it were; the door remained closed, the cloud of smoke undisturbed.
He sat back in his chair, and as he did his blood ran cold and his jaw clenched, for the presence behind him laid it’s icy hand on his shoulder.

‘…Well, I can’t say you wasn’t punctual,’ Wade said. He did not look round, fear would not allow it.
Wade’s body tightened more as he felt the presence creep down to his ear, and it whispered. ‘Was it worth it?’
Wade Mars thought back to one year, eight months, and three weeks ago. The heartbreak on his wife’s face as the doctor told her she could not bare a child. Wade had watched as Miranda’s soul crumbled and he promised himself he would give his own to see her whole again. It was a promise that was somehow heard.
Wade took a picture from the desk; the one with Miranda holding the twins on her mother’s back garden, one in each arm. Much like it had done ever since the boy’s birth, Miranda’s smile brightened the sky, he swore it true.
He studied the photo, then smiled the biggest smile. ‘Yeah…yeah it was.’
He felt his life start to drain. Year after year, stripped away until he was old and grey. And when he bordered on death, he said, ‘Wait…’ and for whatever reason, perhaps through pity, the presence granted his request.
‘There’s just one thing I never understood…’ he coughed and spluttered. Then took a short wheezy breath before continuing. ‘When the deal was made…it was…it was for my wife to bare a single child.’ He tried to swallow but it proved useless. ‘Why…why give us twins?’
He felt the presence creep again, it’s hot breath glided across his neck and came back to his ear. It laughed, horrendously. A laugh that worked it’s way into Wade’s bones and shook him to his core. ‘Because…’ it whispered, ‘…one belongs to us.’
Wade Mars’ expression turned dire as his final years past and the photo slipped from his fingers.