Isle Of a Different Walk

Dear Readers, before starting this story there are some themes that I would like to bring to attention including themes of violence and death.

Thank You, and enjoy.

December, 1904

As I stood in front of the one I would love forever; I couldn’t be happier. His smile was like the sun kissing me on the cheek, and his eyes were so soft I melted every time he looked at me. I wanted to marry him more than I ever wanted anything before. His name was Al Young. I was young, twenty, and he was twenty-four, but I didn’t mind the age gap despite my mother's worries about it. All I wanted was to settle with this man and live forever in his arms.

The priest looked at me as a bride as I was, and I felt fulfillment creep into my heart. Soon, I would be his wife, I would be filled with the purpose that I would seek in Al. I knew of the difficulties that we had in the past; the anger that he held onto from his father. But that didn’t matter, because with hope and with love, he learned to let go of all of that, and instead embrace something lovelier than anger. acceptance, and love. I thought, with my whole heart, that he would choose me over his overpowering rage. It was a long journey, and there were mistakes along the way, but he was always so apologetic, and with time he got better. I knew that this was the right decision for me.

I gripped the flowers in my hands, feeling the smooth stems with my fingers as I looked into the eyes of my beloved. There were things that I didn’t understand yet, but I knew that he would teach me when the time came, just as I taught him how to hold light instead of dark. I was nervous about that night, but I was sure that he wouldn’t hurt me, sure that he would be gentle with everything that he—we—did. Butterflies exploded into my stomach every time I thought about it. I almost missed my vows because I was thinking about it.  

"I do,” I replied, smiling without control. He smiled at me as well, replying with mirroring words. We kissed modestly, as modestly as we could. People on the altar cheered and roared with the celebratory promise that we made to each other.

Then we went to the reception. All of my family came up to me to wish me a good marriage, and the woman all winked at me when they mentioned the night off. I tried not to think about it because when I did, all I thought about was if I was going to do well, or if he wasn’t going to like it.  

As the night went on, and people, including me and Al, got drunker and drunker, I started to forget about what night would bring. It wasn’t the first time that I had wine, but it was one of them, so my tolerance wasn’t quite as high as others. I was falling over him by the end of the night, and the notion of the first night of marriage was so foreign to me that when he whispered in my ear about it, mentioning it very vaguely, I asked what he meant. He laughed outright, kissed me on the forehead, then promised me that I would know very soon what he meant.  

That night, I went back with Al to our honeymoon suit, and as I was looking around the massive hotel room, he was getting dressed for bed in the other room. I looked around, looking for a wide window to stand next to. As I looked out the window, I waited for the rest of my life to happen, for it to start with love and care, just as his mother promised me. She told me that Al was much like his father, and with the right loving he would be happy, and I would soon learn to be. I wasn’t sure how challenging it would be to live with Al, or how much love I would have to give to make him comfortable, but I was willing to do whatever it took.

I sat in the chair next to the window, watching the families that left the hotel in the middle of the night to catch a train or a plane to go home. I busied myself with daydreaming about what our children would look like, about how good of a father he would be. I supposed that I should have noticed the footsteps, I should have noticed the blunt object hanging over my head seconds before being brought down to meet me. I was still in my veil, still in the wedding dress that my mother and sisters had taken the time to pick out before this day. foolish trust and naivete clouded my vision, clouded it so horribly that--

I was on the ground in seconds, blood already pooling at my eye level. I didn’t know what was happening, and I didn’t have the brain space to process anything. Extreme pain shot through every one of my senses. I couldn’t say anything, but I think I was screaming. it was a failure feeling, and I couldn't tell if I was feeling any disappointment through all of the pain and fear. As darkness surrounded me completely, I thought about where he got the weapon from and if he had brought it up with him when we both went up to our suite. Or if he had put it there before.

I wasn’t sure, and I knew that I shouldn’t care about that, but it was better than thinking about how I felt myself slipping through life’s grasp, it was better than thinking about how if Al didn’t stop right then, I would die. He was yelling words that I don’t want to repeat, not even in the ears of people who have gone through something like that. I hate the way that I loved him and didn’t see how he had hurt me. it was at the moment, the moment right before I died, that he could not have loved me if he was so easily convinced that I was unloyal

The next thing I remember was lying on the ground, staring at the now clean carpet. I looked around without moving my head, to see that it was morning, and the light was filtering through the window. I was able to get up without feeling any pain, which was surprising. The holy thing that was running through my head was going to the hospital because I knew that the first time this happened they said if I hadn't gone to the doctors, I could have died. I guessed that it was somehow the adrenaline that made me not feel anything, so I got up, intending to ask for a car or a driver to take me to the hospital. But I stopped in my tracks. There were police lining up every part of the suit. They didn’t notice that I was there, didn’t realize that I was there. How? What else would they be looking for?  

“Excuse me, officer? Can you call—” I stopped when I realized that he didn’t hear me. They all looked as if they didn’t hear me. I looked around, thinking that I was crazy. I had to squeeze past the policemen and the photographers to get out of the hotel room. I left the hotel room, going into the hallway to see that there was crime tape all around the hallway, and a long line of photographers who were snapping pictures in my direction. I put my hand up to make sure that they couldn’t take photos of my face. If my mother saw that I was in the newspaper I would never be forgiven. I somehow got through the crowd of people, going down the stairs desperately. I also didn’t want to run into Al, because I wasn’t sure what I would say to him, or what our marriage would continue to be like after he hurt me again. The thought of it made me tear up, and I didn't have time to think about that because I needed to go to the hospital.

I ran downstairs, picking up my reception dress as I ran. When I emerged in the lobby of the hotel, it was packed with people wanting to know what had happened. There had to be something else happening, maybe it was the room next to ours that was the cause of all the attention. I had to find someone who would listen to me, and who would understand what was happening. I was panicking, and without a reasonable thought in my head, I went out the doors of the hotel and looked along the busy street to see if anyone could see me. all of them either looked at the building behind me or at the ground in front of them. none of them saw me. not even a glance. I felt invisible. I felt unreal. I didn't understand how someone could see a woman in such a brittle state and not help her. not even give her a second glance.

I searched further into the crowd and saw a pair of blue eyes. I ran to him, hysterically, as if he would save me from this treacherous phenomenon. he was waiting at the nearest bus stop, holding a newspaper, but quickly set it down as he saw me tripping over myself. he caught me before I fell on the pavement, and it seemed as though he was the only real person in the crowd of people. I didn’t even care that I was being so impolite that I was throwing myself at this man. He looked around, then looked back at me. and For a fleeting moment, I thought that he couldn’t see me, along with the rest of the world. I felt drunk, woozy and like I didn’t know what I was doing but whatever it was I would regret it later.  

“Please, sir! I need an ambulance! or some sort of help!” I begged as if he was a doctor and would be able to help me. He held me up by the upper arms, looking at me softly as if he was going to tell me very important news.

“Listen, it’s very confusing right now, believe me, I know. But all you need to understand right now is that no one can see you, and whatever just happened to you, killed you, so now you are here. between hell and heaven, you are here.” he explained. My mind was numb, so numb that I was able to understand exactly what he was saying without an inch of question and concern. I nodded as if it made perfect sense. I let the hair from my braid fall into my face. it must have loosened when Al beat me. Oh lord.

everything came crashing down in one cold wave of knowledge. the love of my life. He beat me so badly that I died on my wedding night. I died, I am dead. I'm dead. it was like a comfort, yet it disturbed the numbness that seemed to settle around my heart. grief laid to rest in my chest. He told me that it was over, that I was worth more than the rage that he carried with him. but did he really get rid of the anger? or did he just push it down into the deep waters of his emotions, until it was violently dragged out of him with slight irritation. I stood on my own, I stared at the sidewalk, feeling as though I was out of my own person.

"Let me take you somewhere you can rest,” he said, bringing me out of my head briefly. I nodded, a mere onlooker, as he took my hand and led me through the crowd of people. He waved down a trolley that looked significantly older than any other. I was a moving corpse, I was nothing but understanding and a body. not even a body, my body was in a morgue somewhere, or it was being picked apart for any other suspicions. Suddenly, as if time skipped, I was standing in the walkway of the trolley. I noticed everything all at once.

Everyone was wearing something completely different. Some were wearing modern clothes, but most were wearing clothes that my grandmother would wear. There were children that looked like they were on their own, and they were wearing long dresses that looked almost like a costume for them. When I got a dirty look from a woman dressed in a loose-fitting dress with a low collar line, I kept my eyes to myself. I sat next to the man who took me on the trolly, trying to keep to myself as much as possible.

“Alright, I'm not trying to overload you with information, but my name is Mathew Anderson, and not to alarm you, but I am dead.” He explained, sitting on the edge of his seat and taking my hand. All I could think was that his hands felt as if he was barely touching mine. And then I registered what he had said to me. I wanted to stand and run away despite knowing this. It felt like a movie line or something that I would read in a book. it didn't seem real. I felt like I was an actress on stage, performing and pretending as if everything around me was real for the audience that was meant to believe it.

“That was about ninety years ago, so don't fret.” He said seeing my reaction to what he said earlier. I looked away for a long time. I thought about all the things that I was told as a child, that I would go to heaven if I obeyed God and all of his rules for me, then I would be reunited with everyone I had lost, and everyone who had been faithful to the lord. Was it all a lie? Or was it true, and God wasn’t sure if I was worthy to go to heaven. Or is this hell? There had been things I asked myself, some questions were about things that I could have done, and some were things that were outside of my control. I couldn’t tell if Mathew was talking to me or not, or if he was completely silent and letting me have time to understand my being. Suddenly, he stood up and offered his hand to me. His hands were gloved, which I didn’t notice before until then. I took his hand.  

He took me off of the trolley, and we were dropped off at a train station, and we got on at nine o’clock. Through my daze I noticed that he was dressed strangely, wearing a long black coat, black gloves, and a petticoat that was outdated. He sat next to me, so I wouldn’t be bothered by anyone else, though no one else could see me. I’m dead. There was a long silence before I started to ask questions.  

“So, what does this mean?” I asked, not sure how to even start to ask about what was happening.  

“Pardon me?” He asked, and I thought he was angry with me. But he looked at me politely, with no trace of anger in his gaze. I swallowed and looked away, afraid that my questions would come out in a strange way.

“I’m just not sure what to do. I had a life, a husband, and parents. I had a future, what happened to that?” I asked, thinking about Al before that night. He was truly sweet, and I really wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

“You do what everyone does. Just try to be without thinking of them. But that doesn’t mean you have to forget them. Tell me, how long have you and your husband been married?” he asked, pointedly. His accent was strange, a mix between an Englishman and an American. 

“We were married for a day, well not even a day. We were married for about four hours." I said, and all of the memories and thoughts from before fronted my mind. Al had killed me. He had to go off, he was beating me with an inch of my life that night, and then everything went dark. It was the only thing that could have happened. I stared out into nothing for a while, and I was thankful that Mathew let me. After a while, I spoke up. “Before he killed me.”