From Womb to Wounds

1 Corinthians 15:42-44. So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable, it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; and it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.

Caskets, they come in different colors, shapes…and sizes. There isn’t one that’s a cut above the other; they all serve the same purpose, to house our loved ones in the ground, never to be unearthed again.

Caskets have no respect of person. Doesn’t matter your social status, how beautiful you are, what you’ve accomplished in life…your age.

The furrows on Rachel’s forehead intensified as the baby blue box descended beneath the earth. Her vision blurred and her glass shattered lips trembled as the box slowly vanished.

“Richard!” She took her husband’s coat collar in her fists and pulled him close. “James! He’s afraid of worms! We have to make sure there aren’t any down there!” Richard looked around at the melancholic faces and back at his wife. He pried here fingers from his coat.

“That’s enough, Rachel.” He whispered. Rachel cradled herself in the folding chair. Her mother rubbed her back in small circles until she leapt from her seat and into the hole.

The men pulled Rachel away as she tried opening the casket.

“My baby!” she said. The men handed her off to Richard. He lifted her off the ground, thanked his guests for attending, and dragged the flailing woman to the car.

He opened the passenger door and forced her in.

“Nooo! My baby! My s-” Rachel’s ears chimed like a Tibetan bowl. The one she used to put baby James to sleep. Her crazed gaze slowly turned to Richard’s fiery eyes as she held her cheek.

“He’s gone, Rachel!” Richard’s lip trembled as his eyes filled with strands of red. “James is…dead. You…gotta move…on.”

When the passenger door slammed, Rachel jumped out of her sleep. She skulked out of bed as to not alert her sleeping giant. Rachel couldn’t put on her house shoes; she never learned to pick up her feet. The sliding against the wood floor would alert Richard, he’d keep her from going there.

Rachel tip-toed out of the bedroom to the room across the hall. Her eyes dried and her nostrils stung as she reached for the nob.

When she opened the door, it was just as he left it; before he was diagnosed. She stepped over the scattered toys and treaded over the Legos as if she were fire walking.

Rachel cradled the sheets in the race car bed. *deep whiff* She stopped when the room lit. Rachel turned to the door to see Richard, nostrils flared.

“Tomorrow…” he threw his hands in the air and shut the door behind him.

Rachel’s legs bounced under her desk tirelessly. Her knee sent shockwaves through the cubical, causing her neighbor to peer his head around the corner.

“Sorry, Arthur.” Rachel mouthed. The hour hand of the clock tormented her amber eyes as it crept to its goal. Rachel gathered her belongings. Her consultant of the month plaque, cards saying “Sorry for your loss”, and a coffee cup stained with lip gloss.

When the hour hand struck five, Rachel grabbed her belongings and punched out. The elevator was taking too long, she had to get there before Richard got home.

Rachel opted for the stair; skipping steps, jumping from flight to flight, shattering her heels on the first floor. Rachel swore as she removed her shoes and walked barefoot through the lobby.

Richard’s car wasn’t in the driveway when she got home. With Olympic timing, Rachel was standing before James’s door. When she opened the door, she was met with bare walls; tape, holes, and silhouettes of posters.

The once colorful floors was now an ashy pine. It’s as if all of James belongings hopped in his race car bed and drove off.

Rachel gripped her shirt collar and hyperventilated.. she rushed to the closet; empty. Not even a lone coat hanger. When she heard the front door open, she rushed with a hammer in hand.

“Whoa!” Richard raised his hands filled with grocery bags. Rachel dropped the hammer and wrapped her arms around his stocky body.

“Richard!” she said with her face in his shirt. “We’ve been robbed! They took all of James things!” Richard sighed, dropped his shoulders, and turned his eyes to the heavens.

“No one robbed us…” he said in a soft tone. Rachel released him, leaving his shirt stained with salty tears and mascara. She followed him into the kitchen. His eyes danced around the cupboards, occasionally landing on a distraught face.

Rachel moved at a snails pace as she sat at the kitchen island.

“Richard.” She whispered. “Where are our boy’s things?” she asked. Richard sighed. He put the food away as Rachel’s pupils followed him like heat seeking missiles. “Rich-”

“GONE! Gone, okay?!”

“Where?! You tell me where!” Rachel said. Richard slammed his hand on the kitchen island.

“No, Rachel! Enough is enough! I’m not saying turn the boys pictures down! Not celebrate his birthday; not talk about him. Hell, I wish we would but you…” Rachel rested her head on the island and sobbed.

Richard slowly walked around and pulled up a stool next to her. Hesitantly, he reached for her boney back.

“I miss him too. Picking him up from school, taking him to baseball games he’d never remember, having him run into my arms after a hard day. Even miss that stupid baby shark song.” Richard chuckled. Rachel joined him as she wiped her eyes.

“Just not healthy, Rachel.” Richard said. Rachel nodded and smiled. “I…I need, IT too. Know its in your purse.” Rachel shoved him away and marched into the bedroom.

That night, she slept with her purse in the fetal position; going as far as taking it with her in the shower the next morning.

The work day was coming to an end. Rachel glanced at the clock before returning to the numbers on the computer screen.

“No earthquakes today?” a muffled voice asked beyond the cubicle wall. Rachel scoffed. By 5:15 she packed her belongings, waited for the elevator, and walked out the front door.

Rachel’s attention was on her phone as she cruised down the road. She searched for and called every storage in the proximity.

She suddenly gasped, dropped her phone, and pulled the emergency break. The car came to a stop, but not without tapping a crossing pedestrian.

“Oh my God!” she struggled to undo her seatbelt before jumping out the car. An old man chuckled as he slowly stood to his feet. “Sir! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention An-an-I…” he raised his hand.

“Fret not pickney. Ya just give me a little shove is all.” He said.

“Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance?”

“Ya think they can cure embarrassment?” he laughed until he coughed.

When Rachel rested her hand on his back. His eyes dilated, and his smile faded.

“Can you help me to my home?” he asked. “Just across the street. Bring ya things, lotta tieves round here.” Rachel agreed.

She grabbed her purse and ushered the old man to his home. A two-story house with shrubbery overtaking the windows, weeping paint, and gutters filled with decaying leaves, roasting away in the May heat.

The elderly man introduced himself as BJ, welcoming Rachel into his home. He claimed fate brought the two of them together. He was a special kind of doctor in Jamaica, and could sense something was wrong with her.

The two had a seat at his table. Rachel looked around. Masks on the walls, dried animal carcasses, and old papers scattered on the desk.

“I don’t think you can help with this…” she said.

“Try me.” BJ said. Rachel fiddled with her fingers; chipping the purple paint from her nails.

“It’s my son.” Rachel got a sudden sensation of heartburn. “I know he’s gone, but-”

“Says who? I can sense the boy in ya purse.” Rachel gasped. She rummaged through the purse and pulled out a plastic bagged containing a clump of hair.

“Knew it!” BJ said.

“So, we can talk to him?” Rachel asked. BJ reached his decrepit hand over the table; covering hers.

“We can bring em’ back!” he whispered. He gestured for the hair. He got up to retrieve a brown, and stained rag-doll. BJ chanted, dipped his fingers in oil, anointed his forehead, Rachel’s eyes, telling her to keep them shut, and dunked the hair in the oil before sowing it to the doll.

“O…pen.” BJ said. He coughed, face was drained, and sweat raced down his temple. Rachel’s eyes parted. He was there! Little James!

Mama? He asked.

“J-James?!” Rachel covered her mouth as tears seeped between her fingers. He raised his arms as she reached for him. She sat him in her lap and kissed him relentlessly. “Thank you, BJ!” Rachel said.

With a smirk across his face, BJ laid motionless on the table; arm extended as if he were reaching for something.

Rachel put a twenty dollar bill in his hand.

“Bless you!” she said before making her exit. She raced across the street, not paying attention to the oncoming traffic as she cradled and talked to James.

“What’re you, NUTS?!” one stranger asked.

“Pay attention!” said another. Rachel still had James’s car seat in her car. She strapped him in and the two of then listened to baby shark the whole ride home.

Richard’s nose was engulfed in nostalgia as he entered the home. The simmering pots and pans taunted him as the aroma paraded throughout the house.

Rachel cooked? He thought to himself. It’s been nearly two years. Richard called out to Rachel. He went from room to room in search of her. He noticed the light beneath James's door.

“Babe, it’s been years since…” All of the items he placed in a storage unit, all the way in New Jersey, made their way back to the room.

Rachel had her back turned as she sat on the edge of the race car bed. Richard sighed.

“Rachel, what’re you…” Rachel shushed him. When Richard walked over to investigate, his eyes bulged from his skull. “Rachel, what is that thing tucked under James's sheets?”

James started to cry. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Way to go, Richard! You made your son cry when I finally got him to sleep.”

“My s- okay, Rachel. Give me that thing!” When Richard grabbed James, a searing pain cut his hand.

Mommy, dad wants to hurt me! James said.

“He won’t. Just forgot your face is all.” Rachel said. Richard was dumbfounded.

“What?” he asked. “Are you talking to that, thing” Rachel pushed him aside with James in arms, telling him to wash up for dinner.

The silverware did all the talking at dinner as the spoons clashed with the China. Richard sighed and poked at his food. His eyes peered up at James across the table.

“Why aren’t you eating, little James?” Rachel asked. Richard dropped his silverware. He laughed with his face in hands.

“He’s a bunch of straw and rags!” Richard said. “I can’t.” Richard got up from the table and put his dish in the sink.

The slamming door caused James to jump. Rachel told him to eat. When James said he didn’t fell well, Rachel dropped everything.

“Not again!” she rushed to put on shoes and grabbed her keys.

I know what will make me feel better. James said.

“What? Anything!” Rachel crouched before him.

Mommy’s blood. Rachel frowned.

“Baby, our blood types don’t m-”

I want to drink it. I need to! James said. The two of them turned to the steak knife that rested on the table. Rachel slowly reached for it, pricked her finger, and held it to James’s face.

He sucked vigorously until he was satiated.

“B-better?” Rachel asked. He gave her a stained grin. “Good.” She said. Rachel stumbled to her feet.

Blood was the only thing he’d accept, but no one other than Rachel would give it to him. After countless attempts of trying to enroll him school, Rachel had run out of sick and vacation days. So, she took James to her mother.

When her mother, Annette answered the door, she gasped. Grey-blue lips, bags under her eyes that resembled fortune cookies, and her once tan skin was bleached.

“Rachel, what happened?! Let me-” Rachel extended her hand.

“I need you to watch James.” She said. She extended him. Before a word could escape Annette’s mouth… “No…one…will do it…mommy. The-the schools, d-daycare…kids won’t even play with him at the…park.”

Annette nodded and grabbed James by the arm between her index finger and thumb. She raced to the phone as Rachel pulled off.

Rachel stumbled out the elevator at work. When she took her seat at her computer, her cubicle neighbor, Arthur heard a thud.

“That’s my neighbor.” He said as he peered over the wall. “How was… somebody call 911!”

Rachel awoke to the sound of a heart monitor. She looked around the hospital bed until she noticed Richard sitting at the end of the bed.

“Richard! Where’s...” Richard had James in hand. He stared at him blankly.

“I’ve been trying to understand. Been staring at this thing for hours but…Rachel, I can’t do this anymore, I can’t watch you…” she stared into his brown eyes. He sat James at the end of the bed. “You know they thought I did this to you?” Richard asked.

Rachel looked at the lacerations on her arms.

“I had to feed-” Richard raised his finger.

“They say you need me now more than ever.” He pointed at James. “Apparently not. Not watching you self-destruct. Love you too much…I’ll be by with the divorce papers next week.”

Richard shut the door behind him. James sobbed.

He didn’t feed me mommy! He said. Rachel frantically crawled to the end of the bed, snatched her I.V. and held James face to the blood.

A week had passed, and Richard returned to the house with an envelope in hand. The house was black. Richard flipped the switch; only clicks. He removed his coat and called out to Rachel.

He rolled his eyes before venturing, but knew where she would be. He shook his head before entering James’s room. The full moon illuminated through the window as James sat propped up on the bed.

“This stupid piece of s-” the door slammed behind him. Richard turned to investigate only for a cold piece of steel to pierce his Adam’s apple. Rachel pulled the dagger from his neck as he gargled in the floor. “Why?” he mouthed.

“You were going to hurt him!” Rachel said. She ran to James. “It’s okay baby!”

Sit me in the blood. James said with a stern face. With wide eyes, Rachel gave a yellow grin.

“Have mommy’s blood instead.”

Put me in the blood, woman! Shocked, Rachel rested James next to his inanimate father. He soaked up the crimson mixture like a sponge.

Rachel’s temperature started to rise and her head pounded. When she looked up, James was gone. A green gas emitted from a rag doll in the floor and rushed into Richard’s nostrils.

“James? James?!” Rachel said as she turned frantically. The base boards creaked behind her. Richard had risen to his feet and cracked his neck.

“Ah!” he exhaled. Rachel backed away until her back met the door.

“Ri-Richard? Where’s James? What’d you do to my son?” Rachel asked. Richard smiled.

“Me not Richard, and ya child was just an illusion.” Rachel shook her head. “It’s me, don’t ya remember?” Richard hunched his back and fell over as if he were hit by a car.

“BJ?”

“In the flesh. Not mine, but it’s been like that for centuries. Pretending to be your son allowed me to walk amongst the living once more. Chow!” BJ pushed Rachel to the side. Eyes widened, Rachel hit him in the back.

“GIVE! ME! BACK! MY! S-” When she looked down, BJ pulled the dagger from her stomach. She fell next to the rag doll.

BJ towerd over her, and reached for her face. He kissed his teeth.

“Consider it a parting gift.” When he rubbed her eyelids, Rachel turned to see James in the floor.

“Oh, my baby!” she said. Rachel crawled to him and held him tight.

After reports of a smell coming from a family home, officers were sent to do a welfare check. There they found the body of a thirty-two year old woman cradling a rag-doll.

The city issued out a man hunt for the husband. However, after further investigation, the officers found no foul play, had witnesses testify about the woman’s strange behavior, and ruled it… a suicide.