Til Dusk Do Us Part (Revisited)

Caul appeared ageless like a painting of nobility, yet his eyes betrayed his flawlessness. For beyond the carved complexion, an ancient weight sunk below his brows. Blood tinted irises separated the void of his pupil from the darkness in the blacks of his eyes. His graceful gaze fell on the smatter of gore at his feet. 

The remnants of the grey flesh shuddered in the wind, clinging limply to ashen bones. The discordant array of sinew in the field of crimson could not be recognized as having once been human. Bile polished Caul’s shoes as innards fertilized the ground he stood on. The stench of death billowed around him; A vile perfume to pronounce his coming. His hands dripped with red honey. His fingers weighed heavy with sticky residue. 

Within the utter stillness of the forest, drops splashing in the pool of expired life echoed with fateful finality. Moonlight hid itself in clouds so as to avoid Caul’s gaze. The trees began to creak in mourning, the wind howled its cries. The grass trembled in hushed sobs and the sky brought forth a downpour of tears. Caul could muster only a sigh. He would need a shovel. 

Caul stepped aside the mound of organics. His eyes could not escape from the trail he left behind. One mound would have been enough, yet the meadow had become a feasting ground for ravens. Brushstrokes of blood painted pathways between bodies and limbs. A horrid warmth steamed rain into a rising fog. Meadow became odorous bog shrouded in the fleeting heat of the once living. In the pattering of rain, in the hissing of vapor, Caul’s ears heard the whispers of screams. Phantom shrieks of the deceased resounded in his memory. Curdling cries thundered through time to catch up to him. 

Could trembling hands be pennant enough if as they shook they coated the land in blood? Would shallow breaths be deep enough for the graves needing to be dug? Caul drew back his head, letting rain trace lines on his face where tears could not. His voice fled him and the inward shadow crept back at the sight of candlelight. A flame burned within his gut. It scalded his veins in search of blood to boil. Heat stretched his shriveled ventricles, seeking a place to set ablaze. Hellfire raged in his heart, but it could only scorch stone. 

Laughter danced in the woods. Sickly happy cackles, wheezing within depravity. Caul glanced down to see a porcelain fixed smile splintering spiderwebs of cracks across a plastered expression. Too many teeth grinned behind a mask’s grin. Swirling shadows stared back at him, searching for a soul that didn’t reside within.

“My, my,” The spindly figure said. “Well done! Very well done!”

Caul had no reply to give. 

The masked man pressed something into Caul’s hand. Frowning Caul recognized it as the currency that humans used. Sighing, he let the money fall to the ground and began to walk away. The laughter continued.

“Should a man not be paid for his work?” 

Caul stopped for a moment, but didn’t give the statement the dignity of a reply. He could hear the words not being said, and he walked away. The rain washed the blood from his hands as he trekked to his home. His cottage stood as a proud but simple thing. A perfect balance between ordinary and elegance. The rain continued to pour, and so Caul took a seat just beneath his roof. He watched the water trace his shoes and trickle down the stairs. 

Untightening the tie at his neck, he let it hang loose. It swayed as a fashionable noose failing to properly condemn him. The voices continued to scream in his mind and his fingers began to twitch in torment. Shrieks tore at his mind, flowing steady like blood gushing from wounds. He grunted and felt his face contort. The rain continued to pour and Caul continued to carry the dead in his memory. 

As each voice spoke, his skin pricked with pain. As each spark of hatred joined the furnace within, nails scraped skin from his arms. Clawing at his head, he let fingers impale his scalp. Dragging scars down his face, Caul inhaled an unsteady breath. Yet as he attempted to leave another mark, a hand clung to his wrist. A delicate hand, smooth to the touch. 

“Forgive me, love,” Caul muttered. The hand did not let go, but another hand rolled up his sleeve. He winced as his self adorned judgment breathed fresh air. Caul could see the crimson of her dress rippling in her shaking. 

“Why?” his wife asked. Her voice echoed with enchanting beauty and command.

Caul’s explanations and excuses melted together and drained from his lips. He had nothing to say that would not cause more hurt. Hanging his head, a hand lifted it back up. She turned his head so that his eyes would meet hers. The truth stumbled out of his mouth as he stared at the starless void of her eyes. 

“It was my own doing,” He said.

She nodded. 

“Not just-”

“I know,” She said, cutting him off. Her words lashed at him with a whip crack of anger. He shut his eyes. “Don’t.”

He opened his eyes again.

“I know you,” She said, her eyes searching his face. “I know what you are.”

Caul writhed, but did not let his gaze waver. 

“Til dusk do us part, my darling,” She said. “As we promised.”

Caul felt his stomach lurch with the words, but he nodded. She let go of him and he strained against the urge to shrink away. She had to visibly calm herself and Caul felt his heart crack at the sight. 

“Or daybreak claims my soul,” Caul said. She looked at him and Caul couldn’t place what emotion she felt or what thought passed in her mind. 

“Did they come for you?”

Caul blinked. “Yes.”

His wife gave a discontented expression. “Self defense.”

“But-”

She cut off his words with a single frown. He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender.

“The night is young,” She said. “Don’t waste it.”

She began to walk inside, but Caul stopped her. Rising to his feet, he held her hand. She raised an eyebrow questioningly. Words wouldn’t say what he wanted to say, so he squeezed her hand and despite everything, she gave a small smile. He said his thanks with his eyes and she nodded. 

“Come on,” She said before entering the house. Caul took a breath that steadied him ever so slightly and flowed after his wife.