Thomas Lipschultz 2nd story English 205 2nd draft fixthedate (10/24/99 to 10/25/99 written) Enchantress in Passing Patient's name: Michael Garfield Under supervision of: Dr. Nicholas Glughal August 16, 2002; 5:04pm Hypnosis Log Hello again, Dr. Glughal. Is everything ready? "Everything's ready, Mr. Garfield. I want to inform you that this procedure will be taped and later recorded to paper for my files. Is this alright? ... Good, then let's begin. "I'm going to use a 'progressive relaxation' technique. We'll start by relaxing you from the top of your head and work our way down until you're in a deep enough state of relaxation to continue. You will signal me when you reach that state by raising the index finger of your right hand. Then, I will ask you to envision a TV screen in front of you. In your hand will be the remote control. You will view the events you want to remember on the TV screen, knowing that you'll be able to turn them off if they're more than you wish to see. "Now, get in a comfortable position. Imagine yourself in a warm, wonderful place. Listen to my words. Relax your eyes, your neck, your shoulders. Relax. Relax your knees. Relax. Relax." Has my finger risen? I see the TV screen. I'm turning it on now. This is the moment right after my five-minute memory lapse on May 2, 1999. I remember only the final image from that period: a truck, driving away. I collapse to the ground. Something happens... too blurry. I don't want to remember it yet. My housemates are here. They're confused. I'm on the floor next to an open window at the end of the hall on the second floor of my campus house, curled up in a fetal position, crying and screaming at the top of my lungs. I see images of what happens after this. I'm sent home. I'm taking my finals in the summer. I've gone too far forward now. I need to begin at the beginning. Or at least begin with Lilith. The image is shifting. I see Lilith clearly now. She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. She's about an inch shorter than me, with mesmerizing ruby-red hair, streaks of lavender running through it. Eyes are lime green, no joke. Skin is perfect. She has this mischievous smile that always makes me feel like she's up to something. Her attire is always flashy, but not in a Hollywood glam sort of way -- more of a princess-of-the-east sort of flashy. I'm getting a little overstimulated now. "Relax, relax, these images are all on a TV screen. You can shut them off at any time." The TV focuses... I'm at the beginning. It's August. August 29, 1998. 12:34pm. My parents are pulling up outside of the house. I had unloaded everything into my room the previous day, but they'll soon be leaving for their bizarre trip, so I'm keeping them company as long as possible. I'm looking forward to meeting the new freshman class, though, and hoping to find a girl I like. Mom and Dad lean over to hug me in the middle seat of our van before saying their goodbyes. "Good luck unpacking, sorry we can't help," they say. "That's OK, have fun in Burkittsville," I respond. I watch them drive off on their trip. They're going to explore the woods outside of Burkittsville, Maryland. They want to see where the Blair Witch Project was filmed. They want something eerie to happen. Truth is, I'm scared to death that something horrible will happen to them out there. I never scoff at the paranormal. Not many parents would take this kind of vacation. I guess I'm a lucky child. It's now later that night, at the house meeting. I meet Lilith. God pulled a few strings and let the perfect girl live right underneath me. She knows I'm perfect for her, too -- I can tell by the way she's staring at me during the coed bathroom respect sermon, the devillish smile, the suggestive shifting of her legs every so often. I'll even admit right here and now I've been a little obsessed with her from the start. I have no reason not to be. I am already obsessed. I sharpen the image on the TV screen. I never see my room again that night -- I'm too busy talking with her in HER room. We don't do anything, we just talk. I'm a bit nosey, though. I'm checking every drawer. I'm actually checking to make sure she's not a smoker or a pot- head or a coke addict or anything, but I'm quite satisfied when I find her underwear drawer and have the chance to fondle her panties a bit. She's not too thrilled, but she takes it all in good humor, so it's OK. The only part of her room she refuses to let me explore is her closet. She says it's off-limits to everyone but her. She assures me there are no drugs or cigarette stashes in there -- I hate people with chemical dependencies, you know -- but says that all of its contents are private and religiously significant to her. I ask her what religion she is. Wicca, she says. I can't believe it: I'm hitting on a witch. I mean, come on, how cool is THAT? The color on the screen deepens. I'm awakened by my parents' phone call me the next morning. They're back from Burkittsville. They camped out in the woods for six days. Nobody kicked any maps in the river, and no witches chased them down and killed them, but they said they saw strange shadows in the distance. I believe it, and it scares me. I'm telling Lilith about it. She laughs. "Witches aren't like that," she says, "witches are friendly folk. If you're like that, you're just an evil asshole." I find this absolutely hilarious for some reason. We aren't an item just yet, but we will be soon. I can feel it. Weeks are flashing by. Lilith and I become even closer. We still haven't officially declared ourselves a couple, but everyone in the house basically assumes we are. Talking, laughing, sitting together, playing video games. Lilith offers to teach me Wicca magic. I decline. I don't know much about the religion, but I know that one of its edicts states that any spell cast will reciprocate itself three-fold in the near future. All magic is a risk in Wicca, so even if it works, I don't want to get involved with it. "I don't mind if YOU do it, obviously. I mean, what with freedom of religion and all. Just be careful, OK?" I smile at her. It probably looks forced. I know I mean the words I say, but I'm really worried about her. I'm not sure if I believe in magic or not, but I don't want to see her get hurt. I think there are forces out there far greater than I can conceive of. I don't want to mess with any of them. We're in my room now. We start to fool around a little during the second week of October. We're together now, by default more than anything else. She and I make out regularly -- I adjust the focus to make sure the picture is clear -- and though we've both decided to wait until marriage before having sex (she to keep pure, I to honor that wish), we become fairly comfortable with each other's nudity. We're taking showers together now. I can't imagine a more perfect woman. Quick flash. It's October 24 now. We're sitting on her bed. She seems edgy. Something is bothering her immensely. I guess that it has something to do with the upcoming Halloween holiday. I don't ask her, though. Instead, I try to comfort her in every way I can. I stay by her side all the time. The head of the Campus Christian Coalition, or CCC, lives one door down from me. He's not helping matters. His name is Jeff. We pass each other in the hall. We're talking. "She probably got this way by casting spells," he says, "and angering God. God doesn't look too kindly on pagan rituals, you know. He'll damn you to hell quicker than you can repent." God, I hate Jeff, and all the other religi-nazis on this campus. Another quick flash. October 29. We're on my bed now. She's finally telling me what's wrong: "I've been sick this past week. Flu, I think. I've been casting spells to make myself better. I don't know if they worked or not, but I feel better. But now I'm worried about the repercussions. All Hallow's Eve is soon. The night when the dead rise from their graves. And... I'm scared." She starts crying and turns away to hide her tears from me. As she turns, the light hits her eyes and shimmers off of the wet green glow from her pupils. It's absolutely breathtaking. I try to comfort her, but this is a very awkward situation. I certainly can't say that magic is just nonsense. That would offend her and probably make her feel even worse. So what the hell DO I do? I put my arms around her. She rests her head on my chest. We stay that way for a while. I'll believe her. I'll try to believe her. It's October 31. No, November 1. It's past midnight. I'm changing from my Darkwing Duck costume into suitable bedclothes, ready to go to sleep. It's almost 2:30. During the brief moment in which I'm as nude as I can possibly be, Lilith rushes in, still dressed in her witch costume (pointy hat and all), but without the broom she's been carrying around all night. She closes and locks my door, all in one motion that seems inhumanly quick. "From now on, whenever I'm in this room, you ABSOLUTELY MUST keep the door locked. I know this is going to be hard for you to believe, but there's a malevolent spirit chasing me. I think it's Death... or even worse, the being known in Christianity as Satan." She doesn't seem to marvel at my half-naked state at all. She must be serious. I have NO CLUE how to respond to this. I just stand there, wearing only underpants and duck feet and holding a pair of purple tights in my right arm. I slowly nod. There's something horribly wrong with this picture. Now things start to change. I pass Lilith on the way to class. She's running, glancing over her shoulder every now and then. She barely, if at all, acknowledges my presence. I see scenes of her in the house. Time is moving rapidly on the screen. She's always either locked securely in her room or in my room. She takes showers only when the other shower is occupied or if I take them with her. She's sleeping less and less with each image, maybe three hours per night, and dreads sleeping unless I'm at her side. She sometimes wakes up half the house with her screams if I go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without first rousing her. I can hear her mournful cry even now. She's scared out of her mind. I often wonder if some evil being truly IS chasing her, or if she's slowly descending into insanity. I sense that this is the moment I'm beginning to hope that we can spend Christmas break apart from one another. Not that I don't love her, I just think she needs to learn self- reliance. Relearn self-reliance, anyway. As luck wouldn't have it, though, she's asking me if she can stay with me and my family over break. "It won't find me in Philly. The city is too big, and it's not expecting me to go there," she says. I realize that I've known her all this time and I've never asked her where she's from, nor has she ever offered any information on her family or history. Now is not the time to ask. How can I say no? I'm calling my parents. Please, Mom, say she can't stay with me. "Aren't you afraid we'll have rampant sex when you're gone?", I ask. She says she trusts me, and would love to meet Lilith and get to know her. Yay. Abso-frickin'-lovely. I'm not sure why I'm so bitter, or why I want to be separated from her so badly now. Maybe I'm afraid that this being actually exists... maybe I'm afraid for myself, as well as for her. I never scoff at the paranormal. It's Christmas break now. Tomorrow we leave for my home. Lilith says she called her Mom and got the OK from her to stay at my place for a while. I realize that I've never heard Lilith's phone ring. EVER. I begin to wonder if she herself isn't just a spiritual being, a figment of my overactive over-stressed imagination. I ask her why her parents never call, or why her other friends from the college never call her. She says they do, just not when I'm around. I finally ask her about her home life. She says that it's nothing special. Her family is very ordinary. We're at my house in Philadelphia now. The atmosphere seems much lazier here. Mom is getting along really well with Lilith. For about a week in mid-December, she seems like the old Lilith I fell in love with. I love this week. I love Lilith. I love life. Christmas Eve now. Mom mentions her trip to Burkittsville in passing. The insane look returns to Lilith's eyes. She asks Mom if anything strange happened. Mom tells her about the shadows, and Lilith pries more details about them from Mom than I thought possible. "It sounds like Death, like the same shadows I've been seeing out of the corner of my eye since Halloween. If you've seen this once, you'll see it again. Death doesn't ever stop pursuing someone once he's got her in his sights. You may have accidentally sealed your fate in the woods that week." Mom avoids her for the rest of her stay. I try to avoid her as much as I can. I don't succeed. We're back in school now. January. Things still feel awkward. Although we seem as close as ever to the rest of the house (perhaps moreso, since we spend so much time together behind closed doors), we slowly and steadily are drifting apart as the weeks progress. Flash forward. The color is too bright. I tone it down a bit. It's April now. She's now saying that the demon has identified itself with the name "Venideus." Our relationship is becoming far too creepy. I break up with her. I try to be as gentle as possible, but as soon as I convey the message to her, she immediately bolts up from my bed, unlocks the door, runs to her room, and locks herself in. I listen at her door. She's not crying. The screen is going blank. I'm pressing buttons wildly. Here it comes. Two days later. I receive an email from her: "I understand. You're not a true believer. It's better this way. I asked too much of you during our relationship. I asked too much of ANY non-believer. Thank you for a wonderful relationship. Please also thank your mother for being such a gracious host over Christmas break. Say goodbye to her for me." This is too disturbing. I get the house coordinator, Anna, to look over the email. She's worried too, but Lilith won't answer any knocks at her door anymore, so nothing can be done. The screen has gotten darker now. I can barely see the images as they flash by. The moment draws near. It's Sunday, May 2. 11pm. Lilith has skipped all of her classes this past week. People from the house continue to check on her, but the response is invariably "I'm fine, go away." There seems to be a prevailing dislike of her now. Her door opens, quickly. The screen immediately darkens even further. I have to strain my eyes to see. This... must be the incident. She's running down the hall, faster than I've ever seen her run before. I'm on my way out to get a midnight snack. Big test tomorrow. The image blurs. I sharpen it with the remote. She zips past me, runs to the end of the hall, to the open window (I'm wondering who left it open), says something incomprehensible, and leaps out at full speed. I'm running to catch her, but it's too late. She smashes onto the road. I hear the thud. My eyes explode with tears, instantaneously, like a faucet has just been turned on. My face is soaked, almost as if it were raining. God, Lilith, are you OK? She could've survived, could've survived. But before I can leave the window to go help her... -- oh, I must've shut off the TV screen. Well, no matter, I remember the last image it played for me. You should know the rest too, Dr. Glughal. Your truck runs her over. I can still hear the crunch of bones above the whirring of the Ford. I can still see the pool of blood slowly circling away from her body. My eyes were almost too blurry to see, but I knew it was you in the truck. I recognized you. I watched as you pulled away from the body, like nothing even happened. That's why I chose to come to YOU tonight, over anyone else. I wanted to let you know that I know, and I wanted to find out why that knowledge hasn't been eating away at me. AT ALL. Don't worry, I'm not going to press charges or anything, Dr. Glughal. Lilith obviously wanted to die, and you put her to rest. I'm sure you're shocked that I saw you -- that's probably why you're not saying anything -- but please... I want to continue. I don't remember what happened next, but I remember that it scared the hell out of me... and I think it's important... I'm turning the TV back on. I'm ready to see the rest now. The image is coming into focus. Lilith is dead. I take one final look at her bloody corpse, then collapse to the ground and turn my head away. For a split second, I think I see the shadow of a hooded figure at Lilith's door, moving in my direction. I start screaming, crying, flailing my arms. I hear footsteps coming from all corners of the house. Doors slam. Everything is confusion. I think the shadow was caused by my blurry vision. Or maybe Lilith was right all along. I fear for my parents. They saw it too. I hope they don't die. I hope I don't die. I'm sorry, Lilith. I'm sorry, everyone. I'm sorry, Lilith. I'm shutting off the TV now. I'm going to open my eyes. She didn't want Venideus to kill her. You probably did a great favor to her by ending her life when you did. That's why I'm not mad at you. You saved her. Or maybe she was dead already anyway. You should've owned up to what you did. But I'm not mad at you, Dr. Glughal. I have a feeling she's in a better place now. Wherever you are, Lilith, I still love you, and I always will. You got away, Lilith. You won. You won.