The Principle of Magnetism

Sigmund sat in near darkness, the room lit only by the dim glow of the nightlight in the wall behind him. He waited patiently for the manifestation of his fortune. It was inevitable at this point. He took a deep breath to calm the collywobbles overwhelming his stomach and chest. Sigmund willed himself to remain calm and not run like a coward. This was meant to be, he reminded himself, he had to go through with it.

The man now understood everything about himself ever since reading the self-help book he’d picked up at the New Age shop. It had been an act of desperation, a last resort to find a semblance of sense in the past he’d been running from. He had never made sense to himself, nor had any of his life circumstances up to now. But after reading Wanda Clairmont's, The Principle of Magnetism, he had it all figured out. Sigmund now understood his purpose in life, and how he had gotten here. He couldn’t run from his past any longer, and thanks to this incredible woman, he no longer needed to. Tonight he would show her the miracle of the change she’d brought to his life.

To add the cherry to his life's sundae, Sigmund was also in love. Love was an emotion he’d believed himself incapable of. As he was reading the book, he had found a deep and inexplicable affinity with the author, which had brought his black heart fluttering to life. Hate and rage he’d known well, they’d been his lifelong companions. But love! Love was foreign and he’d screamed aloud as the first pangs of the sweet emotion flooded through him. At first, he’d thought he was dying, and then the realization hit him. This was love!

Many times as he’d read, it seemed as if she had been speaking directly to him and had written this book just to give him the message contained within. According to her principles, everything happens for a purpose and reason, and we bring these circumstances to us subconsciously and deliberately. He had manifested this book and she had manifested him. It was destiny.

He flipped over the book in his lap and held up the photograph on the back of the dust sleeve to the dim light. She was an angel in his eyes. Her beautiful golden hair shined like the dawn sun peaking over the horizon. Those big, chocolate-brown eyes and wide smile belied a wisdom far beyond her years. And her face... her face might have seemed average or even rather unattractive to him the first time he’d looked at her picture, but she had become beauty incarnate. She had not only saved the life he was about to throw away out of shame and guilt over the things he had done over the years, but she had given him renewed purpose. 

Wanda was his savior, and Sigmund had set up an altar to her in his home where he worshipped daily. Each day, he read passages from her book like others read the Bible. He knelt each morning and night before her image and prayed to the Divine Universal Manifestation through her, for he was too lowly to reach it directly. Her sacred knowledge had set him free of the shackles of his old life. He was born again through her, Wanda Clairmont. He’d made himself her first disciple, and apostle in her name.

She had shown him the truth of his mother, why she had treated him like she had. The years of mental and physical torture, the beatings, the starvation, and the hot bleach baths all had a purpose and meaning. Even his mother's simple choice to give him such an ugly name as Sigmund was part of the grand purpose of his life. He was healed.

The other children at school had taunted him for his name, called him Sigmund the Seamonster. They'd left ugly drawings of him on his desk and taped to his locker. One horrible day they'd cornered him in the gym shower room with a bag full of half-rotted seaweed Danny Eastman had brought home from the beach. He shuddered and turned his mind away. According to Wanda and her infinite knowledge, it had all come to the best end. He was healed.

Sigmund had finally found forgiveness for his mother. She had manifested her doom through him, as Wanda had clearly explained. He was her manifestation of destiny, he had realized, as he relived her final moments in his mind. Even what he said at the time now made sense.

"You made me do this, Momma!" He'd screamed as he bludgeoned her with his grandfather's hammer. And she had begged, "Please, Sigmund, please!" as if in a state of ecstasy. Those words had carried him over and through the act until she went silent and her skull cracked, her brains and blood spattered over the faded pink rose wallpaper on her bedroom wall.

He was innocent, he was merely a vessel of manifestation to her and all his victims since then. All his victims had called him in to bring their salvation and karma. If they had not chosen to bring him to them, he would not, could not, have entered their life and done what he had done. It was all meant to be, and his hands were clean. He had only done what they allowed him to do. Their choices had brought him to them, he was merely a vessel for the Divine Universal Manifestation. In his mind, Wanda had proved this knowledge for him alone.

He heard the front door open, and the entrance foyer light clicked on. His heart pounded in anticipation. He heard the tapping of heels clicking on the wooden floor, and a female silhouette appeared in the doorway just before the overhead lights came on. He smiled at her as their eyes met, hers widening in shock. She took a frightened step backward, her eyes darting around her living room as if trying to figure out why this stranger was in her house.

"What? Who?" she stammered, her skin blanching white as the blouse she wore.

"Don't be afraid, Wanda. You called me to you. You manifested me." His voice was soft, gentle. He didn’t want her to be frightened of him, though he knew it would be difficult with his overwhelming physical size and face like Nosferatu from the old silent film.

"I... did?" She was like a gentle fawn, frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car as he approached her slowly, his massive hand outstretched in a gesture of comfort.

"Yes," said Sigmund, "You know you did. Or I wouldn't be here now..."

Wanda opened her mouth to scream, but Sigmund quickly pulled the petite woman into his crushing embrace and smashed his mouth over hers. She soon would have no further reason to scream once they were enfolded in the blessings of the Divine Universal Manifestation, together forever.

The End.