Though It Takes A Thousand Lifetimes

A Great Sorrow

Pepper Baiij worked as a nurse’s aide but her real interests tended to remain unspoken. Pepper possessed clairvoyant and clairsentient abilities. She supposed that she could technically be considered a medium, although she shied away from describing herself as such. Most of the time, she sensed emotions rather than hard facts. However, she had seen more than one full-torso apparition during her time working at the sixty-year-old Trinity Gardens Retirement Community and Care Center.

Over the years, Pepper’s skills had become dulled by exhaustion and disappointment. Her position as night emergency contact in the independent living section of the community tended to afford her a goodly amount of downtime, which she appreciated. She used her coveted downtime to write, listen to music, do Tarot readings, and catch naps.

One night while searching for songs to listen to and upcoming concerts to attend next year, Pepper was devastated to learn that Gerry Clifford, one of her longtime favorite performers, had been diagnosed with dementia. She had become a fan of his band, Mainline, when she was just twelve years old.

Pepper had seen Mainline in concert four times. Shy Gerry generally lurked by the drum riser and let his guitar do the talking while his cheeky brother Paul strode onstage cool and slow to the bluesy strains of the band’s 1975 classic, “Real Business,” wearing a full business suit or tuxedo complete with a snazzy hat. By the time the show was done, Paul was down to a pair of wildly colorful boxers, slinging sweat everywhere as his honey-colored curls flew about his face. Gerry was still fully clothed, his shaggy bangs hanging down like a thick, dark curtain.

While cheeky Paul occasionally flashed some cheek prior to exiting the stage, Gerry would flash the audience an uncertain smile and lift his guitar aloft. Mainline’s 2007 song “Guitar Hero” was not written for Gerry to brag about his musical abilities as those who loved to hate Mainline claimed. Gerry would be more likely to strip off during a show than he would be to brag about himself, and the chances of him stripping off were slim and none with slim being out of town. The lyrics were about Gerry’s guitar.

He’s got the rhythm you know

He’s got the blues

He’s got your back

He’s got what you need

When you don’t know what you need

Maybe you need a good talking to

Take a page

Take a note

Take a listen

Cause he knows what’s best, it’s true

Listen and he’ll see you through

Gerry tended to hide his unconventionally handsome face and unusual eyes behind his long bangs. His eyes were blue-gray with flecks of green and a light golden ring encircling the pupil. Pepper referred to them as rainbow eyes, harking to a favorite song written by the late Ronnie James Dio. From her experience working with dementia patients, she knew that the light would fade from Gerry’s beautiful eyes as dementia destroyed his mind.

After completing her rounds, Pepper found herself alone in the laundry and maintenance corridor on the ground floor. She made her way to the employee lounge. If there were no calls from needful residents, she was unlikely to be disturbed. Pepper sat down on the couch and put her phone, pager, and keys on the end table.

“Oh, Gerry, how could this happen to you?” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

The Betrayal at the End of the World

Pepper quickly fell asleep and began to dream. She was transformed from a plain, plump, prematurely gray, non-descript middle-aged nobody into a statuesque elfin princess with sinuous waves of umber hair and a face as fair as the moon. Outside a grand window that comprised the back wall of an impressive laboratory, a red giant sun blazed in a crimson sky, its white dwarf companion pulsing unstably beside it. A group of elfin men in ornate robes looked on in awe as a battle unfolded before them.

The princess watched in horror as a towering elfin king with skin the color of dark slate cliffs and flowing silver hair whirled about with a scimitar in each hand, beheading a tall, flaxen-haired elfin man. The king turned to face the princess and a small, middle-aged elfin man with wide blue-gray eyes flecked with green, lustrous locks the color of black coffee, and the wizened features of one who has led a challenging life.

The princess attempted to protect the little man, but although she was strong, she was no match for the king, who slammed his knee into the princess’ groin. She doubled over, giving a sickening cry. The little man dropped to his knees at the princess’s side.

"Your blood runs yellow!" he snarled at the king. "You are worthy of ruling nothing!"

"Let us see what color your blood runs, Vermin," the king countered coldly.

The king lifted the little fellow up by his hair and thrust a three-pronged weapon through his heart.

"You had best act quickly, Sister. You may yet have time to heal him with your empathic gifts, but you will transfer us to the Realm of the Yellow Sun first."

"Ondina, don't do it," the wounded man hissed, blood running between his teeth. "This Realm of the Yellow Sun should not be subjected to the tyranny of these madmen. You know the soul can never die, Dearest Love. We will be together in spirit. Give not these villains the opportunity to become despots in the Realm of the Yellow Sun."

"It was never my intent, Beloved," Ondina declared, her voice cold although tears ran from her eyes. "All along, there was only one possible destination for them. Your filthy, corrupt souls will float freely in Isvib, between the realms for all time. You think I don't have the ability to do this? Oh, I do."

Ondina threw a lever and her brother and his followers were immobilized. Their bodies collapsed to the floor. However, to the princess’s horror, their souls rose from their bodies as orbs of light. The orbs were surrounded by the excess of radioactive energy cast over the planet by the dying small sun.

"It was foolish of you to believe that I trusted you enough to not have a backup plan in place, Sister," Qweh's voice smirked in Ondina's mind. "I leave you now to your dying world and your dying love. You will never know another moment's peace. I will destroy him and make you suffer anytime you try to reunite with him. Never shall you be allowed to know happiness together."

The community of entities withdrew from the building, disappearing into the atmosphere. Ondina cradled Serab in her arms. She touched her fingertips to his brow.

"We will be together soon, Ondina," Serab gasped. "He cannot prevent it. We will be together and..."

"I will always love you, Serab," Ondina whispered. "But for your sake, you must forget me."

"Ondina, what are you doing? Don't, please, I implore you!"

"You will be reborn in the Realm of the Yellow Sun. You will have wonderful abilities as you did in this life, and you will be able to use them to help others. Perhaps at times, I will check in on you. Perhaps in the back of your mind, you will always know that someone treasures you above all things. I will not put you in danger, Serab. Your Ondina loves you--she loves you forever."

A bolt of energy passed through Serab. He went limp in Ondina's arms. A spark of diamond light flecked with blue and green rose from his brow. It glowed brightly before winking out.

"Farewell, my love," Ondina sobbed.

Princess Ondina gathered the corpses of her beloved Serab and her friend Xegran in the center of the room. She pulled the corpses of her despised brother and each of his followers to the window area. She shattered the window with a metal bar, letting in the radiation from the solar nova, and pushed each of the hated ones out.

Ondina placed Xegran’s head and body together, wrapping a scarf around the severed neck to give an illusion of wholeness. She bestowed a kiss on the willowy elf’s forehead. She curled up next to Serab's body. Tears ran from her eyes as she recalled lovely moments spent with the impossibly wonderful little man whom she'd known for only a brief time but who had given her the most wondrous of gifts.

“I love your precious heart,” Ondina whispered, pressing her palm to Serab’s unmoving breast.

The radiation swiftly destroyed Ondina's cell structure. Four hours later, the last survivor of the Zetar cataclysm lay dead, clinging to the body of her beloved with the body of her old friend beside her. She died wishing for an impossible reversal of fortune and could not understand the cruelty of either the faction in which she played her reluctant role, or of a Cosmos that allowed such things to transpire.

On the Run

The astral-projected Gerry Clifford lost track of his friend Henry Kalmar VI and Henry’s grandfathers when he ran through the gate in the basement of Candlelight Ridge Care Center, where he now resided. He looked over his shoulder every now and again as he fled, praying that he wouldn’t see the blasted light entity that had been chasing him, because if he saw it  he knew that he might as well bend over and kiss his ass goodbye.

“What the fuck do those bloody bastards want with me anyway?” Gerry gasped. “I suppose they want a host with a compatible mind, but that body of mine ain’t even gonna have a mind when the fucking Alzheimer’s gets through with me. Wish the damn thing had died when it had the stroke. What the fuck is the sense of it remaining alive when it just…”

Gerry tripped and fell from the seemingly interminable darkness into a dingy room. There was a flimsy table, a few mismatched chairs, a refrigerator and microwave, and there was a couch where a forlorn-looking middle-aged woman lay sleeping. Gerry was overcome by a feeling of tenderness when he looked at her. He stood beside her and gently stroked her hair.

“Poor dear, you ain’t had an easy go of things, have you?” he inquired. “You ain’t got much in the way of good thoughts for yourself, but I sense the good of you. I hope you don’t mind if I just sit quiet here for a mo. Bloody hell, but things just keep getting weirder and weirder. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re way more special than you realize. I don’t know how I know this, but there’s trouble coming your way. Might be the last thing I do in this world, and I know I might not look like much, but I swear to protect you.”

A sudden wave of psychic energy rolled through the building. Gerry crumpled to the floor, crying out in terror. The wave of energy was followed by a brilliant burst of light, as if someone had detonated a nuclear bomb in the basement of Trinity Gardens.

Gerry the Fetch

The dreamscape shifted away from the distant dying world. Pepper was herself again, back in her own time. She now dreamed that Gerry Clifford, as he had been before becoming compromised by the terrible disease that was robbing him of his mind, entered the employee lounge. His beautiful rainbow eyes were wide with terror.

“Please, Miss, help me,” he pleaded.

“Gerry? What’s wrong?”” Pepper asked, alarmed.

“I sense you know of the Lights of Zetar.”

Pepper shuddered. That Star Trek episode had always terrified her, even more than the ruthless Xenomorph from Alien or the quiet malevolence of Kurt Barlow, the shadowy vampire from Salem’s Lot. The concept of having one’s self eradicated was far more chilling than the worst physical threat.

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“They destroy the mind, the personality. Please, don’t let them take mine!”

Pepper wondered if perhaps Gerry was dreaming, or if his spirit was off wandering when his body fell asleep in front of the television, and he was confusing the images on the screen with reality as her father had started doing as his dementia progressed.

“Gerry…Gerry, Sweetheart, the Lights of Zetar aren’t real,” Pepper soothed, reaching for Gerry’s hand. “It was only a television show.”

Gerry nestled against Pepper. She hoped that he didn’t notice how her heart quickened at his touch. He needed comfort, not a lonesome loser pawing him. She stroked Gerry’s hair.

Embracing a ghost was frustrating. Pepper could nearly but not quite feel the silkiness of Gerry’s hair. He almost felt warm. She wished she knew how to help him.

“I wish I could put you in my pocket and keep you safe,” she sighed.

Gerry’s face rested against Pepper’s shoulder. She kissed the bridge of his nose. He responded with a sweet, soul-melting smile.

“God, you’re so pretty,” she sighed, her voice quavering. Tears flowed from her eyes.

“Please, Miss, don’t cry,” Gerry pleaded. “I’m sorry I upset you. It feels nice here next to you. You make me feel safe.”

“You can come to me any time you want, Gerry,” Pepper offered. “I’ll try to keep you safe. Now, can you tell me why you think the Lights of Zetar are following you?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps they want to eat my soul. I was an adult when I first saw that fuckery, and I was still fuckin’ scared to go to the loo during the night! I half expected it to come out of the linen storage or even be waitin’ fer me in the khazi.”

“I know the feeling,” Pepper commiserated. “I first saw it when I was ten years old. I’m forty-seven now, and I still expect to find it following me down dark hallways.”

“What’s your name? I want to know what to call you.”

“I’m Pepper.”

“You’re a Yank. I can tell by the voice.”

“Yes,” Pepper said. “I’m also one of your biggest fans.”

“Well, maybe I’m one of yours,” Gerry said puckishly, and Pepper blushed as his tongue flicked over his top lip. She didn’t think he was aware of the gesture or the accompanying lurid thought, but she was still shocked.

“If you let me in, Darlin’, I’ll fuck you right here and I’ll make sure it’s ever so nice. You’re so soft and warm and I’d be happy to put meself in your pocket, if you take my meaning.”

“What did you say?” Pepper gasped.

“I only said that if you ain’t already got a fan club, I’ll start one for ya. You’re so kind to me, Pepper. Shall I come by and see you again, as a friend, and maybe something more?”

Gerry was quoting a line from “Real Feel,” the fifth song on the second side of Mainline’s 1976 album, “Off the Tracks,” but Pepper believed that he was awkwardly suggesting that he had feelings for her, and she wasn’t at all sure what to do with that knowledge.

“Come haunt my house whenever you wish. I’m feeling hungry and you’re my main dish,” Pepper replied, quoting the next line of the song, which had been sung by Gerry’s good friend Annika Scarlotti in response to Mainline’s frontman Odinn Lacey’s lyrical query. “But Gerry…”

“My wife?” Gerry asked, leaving Pepper feeling as if she was re-enacting a scene from The Man Trap.

“Yes,” Pepper replied.

“I was always faithful to Anne. But she’s ready to move on, even if she doesn’t know it yet. I can’t give her anything more, and really, there’s nothing more she wants from me.”

“How can you want anything from me? Look at me!”

“I can feel your soul. I like what I feel.”

“I’ve been involved with ghosts before. It ended badly.”

“You know that I’m different. You know that what I say I’m going to do, I do.”

“I don’t want to get hurt again. You’re vulnerable, and I’m lonely as hell. We need to make sure we aren’t just fooling ourselves.”

“Agreed. Let’s take our time. Haven’t got anything but time now, have I?”

“What’s happening to you breaks my heart.”

“I know. I sensed that. Your sweetness brought me to you. Now, I sense that you have another question you’d like to ask.”

Pepper blushed, looking at the floor.

“I was wondering if you’d kiss me,” she murmured.

Gerry planted a soft kiss on Pepper’s lips.

“I’d like to do that again sometime. May I?”

“Anytime you want,” she replied, a plethora of emotions dancing inside her.

 “I’ll be back to see you again, Pepper. You can count on it. I do what I say I’ll do, and I believe you’re the only one who can help me.”

Pepper woke, feeling flushed. She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.

“Gerry, I’m all yours,” she declared. “Oh, you sweet, beautiful soul, I couldn’t possibly resist you. Oh, what the hell am I getting myself into?”

Acknowledgments

This story was inspired by the 1969 Star Trek episode, “The Lights of Zetar.” This episode was written by Shari Lewis (1933 – 1998) and Jeremy Tarcher (1932 – 2015). The Star Trek episode “The Man Trap” is also referenced. Star Trek is the creation of Gene Roddenberry (1921 – 1991).

Portions of the story were inspired by the Arctic Monkeys song “Do I Wanna Know.” (2013)

Rainbow Eyes is a song written by Ronnie James Dio (1942 – 2010)

and Ritchie Blackmore. It appears on the 1978 album “Long Live Rock and Roll” by Rainbow.

Salem’s Lot is a 1975 novel written by Stephen King, which was adapted into a miniseries in 1979. Reggie Nalder (1907 – 1991) gave a spectacularly chilling performance as Kurt Barlow.

Alien was released in 1979 as well, providing an unforgettable masterpiece for fans of both horror and science fiction.