A Fire of Unknown Origin

There may be a great fire in our soul,

yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it,

and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.

Vincent van Gogh

           Melissa wondered about herself; any other woman seeing what she was seeing would suspect that her husband was not only crazy, but crazy enough to be instantly committed to the nearest asylum. The husband in question, Hamish White, was sitting in front of a darkened corner in the living room, speaking to a shadow.

           She didn’t mind this much, except that it was 2:30 in the morning and she needed her sleep. Also, her husband wrote musicals, so she didn’t think much of his behavior. Artists, she would think, shaking her head. Lunatics at best. At least he didn’t do drugs. Much.

           She sauntered up behind her husband of barely six months and laid her hands on his shoulders. He flinched and turned his head sharply, spotting the long, artistic fingers of his wife. Melissa was amused by his guilty start; it was cute and adorable and totally the reaction she wanted from her sane husband. A crazy one, she mused, wouldn’t act like he had just been caught watching porn.

           “Who are we talking to, sweetie?” Melissa asked in her sing-song, soothing voice. The one that told Hamish that she wasn’t angry, just curious. And she smelled good. Like lavender and honey.

           “Uh…uh…well…,” Melissa pulled up a chair as Hamish tried to explain himself. She did this slowly, just to see how awkward he would become with his explanation. Yawning, she sat down beside him and held his hand. She loved his hands, for they were strong and tender at the same time. A neat trick, she thought. His hands were a babe magnet, at least to her.

           “Look sweetie. I don’t care if you’re working out a scene for your next musical, or trying to draw inspiration from a conversation with an imaginary character or…whatever it is you’re doing. But do come to bed. It’s late. Or it’s early. I’m not sure which. Anyway,” she turned to him, “you keep waking me up when you laugh.”

           Hamish’s face flushed and he nodded dumbly. Melissa got up and started to go back upstairs to the bedroom when she noticed that Hamish wasn’t following her. She sighed deeply. She loved that her husband was committed to his craft, but was becoming deeply pissed that he continued to have a conversation with a shadow.

“Hamish?” Melissa spoke a little more sharply than she had meant to. She didn’t want to become one of those nagging wives that cowed their husbands. She simply wanted him to do as she wanted without the nagging. That would be the perfect marriage, she thought.

“Coming. Just finishing up my talk with the captain,” Hamish said and then instantly clapped his hand over his mouth. Strange, Melissa thought. Why is he acting like he just divulged a sacred secret? She turned back around and stood in front of the shadow.

“Uh, whoever you are, Hamish needs to get some sleep. We’re planting flowers tomorrow, so we need our rest, ok? You two can talk later,” Melissa said, turning back around. There, she thought. I gave the man an out. However, as with love and M. Night Shyamalan endings, the truly unexpected happened.

“As you wish, madam,” a deep voice with an accent spoke. This was not Hamish’s voice, she thought. Not even Hamish, for all his talents, could pull that off.

Melissa stopped immediately. Her entire body was goose-bumped and weak. She even had goose bumps on her goose bumps. Is that even possible, she thought? Can one have…

She shook her head energetically. Stop thinking about goose bumps! Let’s get back to the part about hearing a disembodied voice. She supposed that it was a disembodied voice since the only bodies she saw were hers and Hamish’s, and she doubted that someone with a deep voice, complete with a body, and a decided New England accent was hiding in her house. Again, she shook her head.

Melissa turned around slowly, not wanting to see what she saw. It was a body in the shadow.

Hamish stood up and put an arm around her, guiding her back to the chair that she had recently abandoned. She felt numb and limp, as if her muscles were rats abandoning a sinking ship. He sat her down gently, but she didn’t feel any of this. Her gaze was transfixed on the figure in front of her.

The figure was that of a man just past middle age, slender but muscular, sporting an untrimmed dark beard and sideburns. He sat erect and proud, with an expression as stoic as she had ever seen. He then stood up and bowed to her slightly before turning to Hamish.

“She is dressed like a lady of the night. I understood that you were married, young man. This is not the proper…,” the figure was not going to finish this sentence.

“Hey! I’m his wife, not a hooker! What the hell!” Melissa had lost her reserve and her shock had disappeared at the disparagement cast at her.

The figure looked embarrassed and contrite. He bowed again, offering deep and sincere apologies. His only excuse, he said, was that he did not know how people of this era attired themselves.

“Yeah, well. Okay. Apology accepted,” Melissa said, mollified somewhat by the figure’s voice and mode of speech. It was quaint and very soothing. “Hey! Eyes up here!” Melissa forked two fingers towards her eyes. The figure looked at her impassively.

“In my time, it was a supreme compliment to observe a fine feminine figure,” the figure sat back down. If this was an apology, Melissa thought, it left a lot to be desired.

“Uh huh. So it was cool to check out women’s racks was it?”

“Racks?” the figure blinked in confusion.

“Breasts. Boobs. The girls. The twins. Fun bags. The mams.”

The figure looked at Hamish, who only shrugged. The figure looked again at Melissa.

“Perhaps I will refrain from speaking of your birthing hips, then,” he said. He seemed a little stiffer than before, Melissa thought. Not as courteous. Almost angry.

“Yes, let’s. Why don’t we talk about who you are and why you’re here? I mean, I can see right through you!” At this revelation, Melissa sat back in her chair. This can’t be real, she thought. Any minute now I’ll wake up and Hamish will kiss me good morning and I’ll kiss him back. That’s what we usually do. We don’t speak to insubstantial people dressed in some sort of naval garb, a man no less. And one who checks me out unapologetically. Birthing hips indeed!

“I am – was – the captain of a whaling ship. Unfortunately, I died at sea. My spirit, if you will, travelled throughout the land until it finally decided that this is where I need to be. For all intents and purposes, I am a prisoner of this blighted area,” the figure spoke with a palpable sadness.

Melissa nodded and then turned to Hamish.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this?”

Hamish looked at her and smiled.

“Why didn’t I tell you that I was speaking to the ghost of an eighteenth-century captain from a whaling vessel who can only be seen by me? Hmmm. Yes. Silly of me not to tell you that,” Hamish said. He got up and went to the kitchen while Melissa stared at the figure in the shadow. The figure stared back.

“I still don’t understand. You’re a spirit and you wound up here,” Melissa said loudly, as if her voice would break the spell she knew she had to be under.

“Yes. As to why I am in this place,” the figure waved a hand around the room, “I cannot tell you. Where is this place, if I may ask? The terrain suggests the Spanish interior but the house is not of Spanish style nor construction.”

Melissa looked at him, happy and sad at the same time. She felt bad for this ghost, but she also felt exhilarated that her life was now a lot less ordinary than it had been. She gave Hamish the credit for this. Ever since she met him, her life had changed. He was exciting in an understated way. He was in entertainment, and this meant that she got to meet a lot of unique people. And now. She sighed happily. And now, he was friends with a ghost and didn’t find it the least bit odd.

“You’re in Texas. South central Texas, to be a little more precise. An old ranch house just south of San Antonio,” Melissa said lightly. She continued to stare at the spirit in front of her, marveling at being able to talk to him yet still see right through him.

“Texas? Where is Texas?”

Melissa looked at him sharply, becoming aware that this spirit was old, and that Texas may not have been something he had ever heard of.

“A state in the southwest portion of America. It’s huge. We stole it from Mexico.”

The spirit nodded.

“It seems an inhospitable land. Is there a coast nearby?”

Melissa nodded.

“About 150 miles to the east. The Gulf of Mexico.”

“Ah! A goodly distance, then. How many days must you travel to reach this coast?”

“Days? No, it takes about three hours. We go to the coast sometimes to relax. Hamish sits on the beach and writes.”

“You have transport that moves so fast? It sounds like magic,” the spirit said, eyes brightening.

“Nope. It’s science.”

“Science. Yes, science. I believe in its power, though my opinion, in my time, was not popular.”

Melissa laughed.

“Yeah. It’s not much different now. Plenty of people don’t believe the scientists who claim that we are destroying the earth. Among other things.”

Hamish returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She looked at Hamish and nodded her head and eyes towards the spirit.

“He can’t drink,” Hamish whispered in her ear. “Can’t eat. Can’t feel pain or cold or hunger or any of that stuff. He’s got a sharp mind, though,” Hamish downed a glass quickly and then refilled it. Melissa shrugged and did the same. Drinking at 4:00 A.M. was not something that she was accustomed to, but it seemed fitting at this moment.

“Tell me about your peg leg, captain,” Melissa asked after accepting a generous refill of wine. Hamish gasped at her effrontery but the spirit smiled.

“I like a woman with spirit,” he started. Melissa choked on her wine. Hamish hastened to explain her laughter.

“Well, you like a woman with spirit, and you’re a spirit, and we’re drinking spirits, so…”

The spirit nodded, understanding.

“Your woman is a lively creature. I daresay she comes from a wealthy, respected family and has learned many arts along the way. Humor in a woman is only to be had from the best families,” he said imperturbably.

“Yeah yeah. Tell us about the leg,” Melissa almost slurred her words. The wine was going down easily and she wasn’t turning down any offers of more from her husband.

“I lost it when a leviathan took it from me.” He looked away. His voice had become hard.

“No shit! And you lived?” Melissa said loudly, spilling a little wine on the floor. Neither she nor Hamish made a move to clean it up.

The spirit looked at Melissa disapprovingly.

“You use vulgar words, madam. This is not seemly,” he chided her sternly. His eyes were cold and judgmental. Melissa sniffed at him and raised her head.

“Get on with the story. What happened?”

The spirit glared at her, but continued. It would be rude to refuse a lady, even one with questionable vocabulary.

“It happened on a voyage long ago. I returned to Nantucket a weak, broken man, but I vowed to subdue the creature on my next voyage. In the end, the leviathan defeated me and my crew. We were all lost, save one.”

Hamish and Melissa looked at each other, eyes widening. This couldn’t be! It had been enough to have a conversation with a spirit, but to find out that the spirit was iconic caused the couple to reel in disbelief.

“You’re Captain Ahab!” Hamish shouted, spilling some of his wine. It intermingled with Melissa’s spilt wine, becoming a large, red blob of glistening liquid that was currently being ignored by all.

The spirit bowed.

“And the whale was Moby Dick!” Hamish exclaimed, leaning forward.

“Indeed,” the captain said quietly.

“Oh. My. God!” Melissa whispered the words, awestruck by the spirit that used to be the most famous (or infamous) captain in all of America.

“You’re famous, you know. A man named Herman Melville wrote about you and Moby Dick. You didn’t come off looking so hot in the book, but you had your moments. Famous book, by the way.” Hamish added the last sentence as an afterthought.

“Melville. Yes. I know of the Nantucket Mellvilles. Old and respected family. Perhaps he came from that line. As for myself, I do not know the man.” And there, Ahab let the matter go. He seemed supremely uninterested in his fame.

The grandfather clock struck 5:00, the sonorous tolling heralding the coming light of morning, despite the inky blackness that still pervaded the countryside. In another two hours, the landscape would transform from stultifying black to brilliant, glistening light. It was something that inspired Hamish, the dawning of a new day in Texas. The wide-open pastures and vast visage before him opened his mind to what could be. He could write out here, write those snappy, happy tunes that accompanied a snappy, happy plot. As a writer of very successful musicals, he felt compelled to give his adoring public what they wanted: an escape from the banalities of life.

“I believe I am here in this place you call Texas because I have greatly sinned,” the spirit spoke quietly. Melissa put a hand out to touch his arm but she slipped right through him. Unlike the ghost stories that abound, she felt no chill or coldness as her hand passed through him. She felt nothing at all.

“Hmmm. So. You sinned, so you are being punished. By whom?” Hamish asked. Melissa could see that his mind was at work, sculpting a plot for a musical. She smiled inwardly; Hamish never stopped working, even when he wasn’t working. For a person who could craft such beautiful phrases, he was terrible at reading meanings within his conversational words. Melissa paused for a second. There was something important in that thought. Something significant.

“What is your sin, captain?” Melissa spoke abruptly, pulling herself out of her reverie. She needed to get back to the task at hand instead of dissecting Hamish’s personality. Plenty of time for that later, and who knew how long the spirit would be with them?

Ahab looked at Melissa and then Hamish, nodding approvingly.

“Well asked, madam. ‘Tis the crux of the matter, is it not?”

“And?”

Ahab looked at Melissa steadily before speaking again. Melissa, for her part, became uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She imagined that this look had had a similar effect on his crew.

“What do you think my sin was?”

Hamish and Melissa looked at each other before speaking.

“Seeking to become the master of ultimate, pure truth,” Melissa said.

“Trying to understand God,” Hamish said.

Ahab stood up before speaking.

“My sin was coveting something that should never be coveted. I have always desired to find fires of unknown origin,” he looked at Hamish and Melissa somberly.

“Curiosity,” he explained when the couple looked at him questioningly. “As to your answers, I will say this: I have always believed that God told me what I needed to know, and I have always taken truth where I found it. Neither caused me any sleepless nights. But what is out there is what I covet,” he waved his arms expansively.

“Fires of unknown origin,” Hamish breathed out in a whisper.

Melissa look at him with a question on her countenance.

“Prometheus and Lucifer,” he said.

Ahab nodded vigorously.

“You understand, young man.”

“Well. Enlighten me,” Melissa demanded. Hamish and Ahab looked at her, both with thoughtful, melancholy countenances.

“Prometheus brought man fire, but he knew where the fire came from and what it could do. Man never knew the origin of the fire, only that fire was given to them. The good captain here wanted to be like the gods. He wanted to know where that fire came from,” Hamish looked down.

“Hence, I wanted to be like a god. Lucifer’s sin. Now I am doomed to live with the knowledge of my sin. And you two are here as an exclamation point to my punishment. God has given me you for delightful company, but you will die, or sell the house, and I will be left here knowing that I am truly alone. That is my hell, and my punishment.”

Melissa cried softly. Hamish wiped away his tears brusquely, not wanting the captain to see the pity he felt for his soul. The spirit looked at them with compassion.

“If you would leave me now, I might not feel the torture of your passing,” he said. And then he disappeared into the light…

Melissa and Hamish kept the house but never stayed there any longer. It was a small kindness, but one that Ahab felt deeply. The house is still empty, and the walls have started crumbling.

Late at night, if one were to be in the vicinity, one might hear the soft sobs of a gruff, remorseful captain. One might hear the deep sighs and spoken recriminations of a man who sought the domain of God. And one, if one were fortunate, would heed his warnings.