The Tower
By late afternoon Matthew has given up on the painting entirely. His conversation with Deke put him off, and he canât get back into his work. As the day wears on, he starts to feel worse: dizzy, shivering spells, and eventually a persistent buzzing sensation in his forehead and cheeks. Finally, he decides what he needs is sleep. He throws away the last of his coke, still unfinished, empties the water bottle and throws it in after, gathers his things, and limps back in the direction of the motel.
The sun is on its way to setting, but the sky is still clear and the evening is hot and muggy. Despite this, Matthew feels cold. He shivers involuntarily as what should have been a listless breeze cuts through him as sharp as any winter gust would have. He stumbles slightly as he makes his way down Bridge Road and his ankle starts to throb.
The buzzing in his head grows stronger. It might be from the fever, but itâs not exactly what he expects from feverish lightheadedness. It swells and fades, almost rhythmically, in a pattern he almost but canât quite see. He stumbles again, almost knocking into a man passing him by.
âSorry,â he mumbles. The man hurries on by.
He leans against a lamppost for a moment, trying to steady himself. The buzzing surges, and for a moment he feels the distinct chill of cool autumn air. He shakes his head, trying to beat the buzzing back, and shivers violently as the feeling recedes, replaced with the muggy heat of August, though the heat canât seem to counter the persistent chill in his bones. He stumbles on, and a moment later he realizes heâs turned himself around and is walking back up Bridge Road, toward the park.
Behind him someone honks their horn.
âHey!â
The horn honks again. Matthew tries to focus, turns, and looks around.
âMatt! You OK?â
He hears a motor cut off, a door open, and moments later a strong hand grabs his shoulder. âMatt. Whatâs wrong?â
Matthew squints up at the voice. He sees a blur of blue denim and red plaid.
âBuck?â
âHey there.â Matthewâs vision sharpens, and he sees Buck looking down at him, worry plastered all over his face. âYou donât look so good.â
Matthew shivers. âDo you hear buzzing?â
Buck frowns. âBuzzing?â
âOr singing, maybeâŚâ Matthew looks around him. The other people on the sidewalk are giving them a wide berth. âIt sounds like buzzing to me, but⌠maybe itâsâŚâ
His voice trails off as he tries to focus on what that buzzing could be. He almost recognizes it. AlmostâŚ
Buck studies Matthew for a moment, then says âI think you need to see the doctor again, Matt. Maybe you better let me give you a ride.â
Matthew nods slowly and lets Buck lead him around the front of Buckâs truck. He fumbles at the handle, pulls open the door, and awkwardly climbs into the cab. As soon as he pulls the door shut Buck slides into the driverâs side and pulls the truck out into the street, honking at oncoming traffic as he veers into the proper lane.
âI donât feel so good,â Matthew mumbles.
âNo kidding.â Buck looks over at Matthew and frowns. âYou look like hell.â
Matthew laughs in spite of himself. âEverybody keeps saying that. Thatâs what Sally said. Thatâs what Deke said.â
âDeke?â
âHe told me to leave town. I think heâs working for the Sheriff.â
Buck snorts. âDoubt it. They arenât enemies or anythingâlots of mutual respect, as far as I can tellâbut they donât exactly see eye to eye.â
âWell, theyâre on the same page on this one. Sheriff wants me to leave, and Deke does too.â Matthew is surprised at the bitterness and resentment seeping through his words. He just met the man today, and heâs used to townies not liking him much.
âI donât believe it,â Buck says. âDeke ainât the type. Sheriff Dobbs, now⌠well, yeah, he is the type, but itâs only because he thinks youâre on drugs.â
Matthew snorts, almost gags, and breaks into a fit of coughing. When the fit passes he hugs his shoulders tight, trying to stop shivering. âDo you hear singing? Is it your radio?â
âNot on,â Buck says. âAll I hear is you talking like a crazy man. You sure you ainât on drugs?â
âPretty sure,â Matthew says.
âWell.â Buck turns his truck onto a vaguely familiar road. âMaybe thatâs the problem.â
Matthew tries to laugh, but all he can do is cough. âSorry for the trouble, Buck.â
Buck shakes his head. âDonât worry about it. Better than hearing youâd, I donât know, died in the street. Then Iâd have to say âyou know, I passed him not an hour back and I thought to myself he didnât look so goodâŚââ
Matthew shivers again. âCold. Iâm cold. Doesnât seem right for August.â
âJust hang on.â Buck turns the truck again, and Matthew recognizes Doctor Lancieâs parking lot. âHere we areâŚâ
Buck gets out. The truck dings as Buck doesnât bother to shut the door behind him or take the keys out of the ignition. Moments later the passenger door opens, and Buck reaches in to undo Matthewâs seatbelt.
âHere, give me an arm, Matt, and weâll see about getting youââ
The earth spins, and Matthew tumbles out of the cab, hitting the ground in a half-roll that takes him about a foot past Buckâs feet. His body heaves, and he feels his throat burn as he gags. He vomits on the asphalt.
Buck swears.
âSorry,â Matthew gasps, then convulses again as he spits more bile on the ground.
âItâs gonna be all right,â Buck says. âDonât get up. Iâm gonna get Henry. And a bucket.â
Matthew nods miserably as his stomach churns. His throat and nose sting; he closes his eyes as feels another spasm coming on. His stomach twists and he retchesâdry this time, but just as violent as before.
He can hear it clearly now: singing, very similar to the singing from last night. Almost the same tune, but simpler, with fewer voices. Itâs all around him, as clear as if he were standing in the chapel.
But it wouldnât be in the chapel, he thinks. There arenât enough parts for it to be in the chapel. The chapel had five distinct parts, this has⌠two?
And then he starts laughing, because he realizes heâs curled up on the ground, surrounded by vomit, comparing and contrasting the hallucinatory singing heâs hearing now with the actual singing he heard the night before. Then is overcome with another dry heave, and he canât think of much at all until it passes.
âGood God,â he hears.
He tries to look up, but he feels himself curl up again as he goes through a third bout of dry heaves. Strong hands grip him by the shoulders and haul him to his feet. Someone shoves a bucket under his face.
âHold on to that,â the voice says. Matthew thinks it might be Henry.
He grabs the bucket and thrusts his face into it as he starts to retch again. Itâs all dry heaves now, so the bucket isnât really doing anything useful, but heâs glad to have something. A cool, wet cloth presses against his forehead, and strong arms support him, leading him forward.
âWeâll take care of you, son,â the voice says again. âLetâs just get you into my officeâŚâ
Matthew feels himself go limp just before he passes out.
He stands in the middle of a forest. The air is warm and pleasantly dry, like late spring just before the heat of summer takes hold. The sun filters down through a canopy of treesâtall trees, thick with ageâbathing the forest in a glow that looks like perpetual dawn. The forest is dense, but not impassable.
Off in the distance, Matthew hears singing. Itâs faint, no more than voice or two in tandemâitâs that song, the one he heard in Buckâs truck. Two voices: itâs definitely two voices singing, with something else right behind it. Another noise⌠he canât tell what it is.
Letting the song draw him closer, he walks deeper into the wood.
âLord Almighty!â A voice that is very definitely Buck shouts with a level of panic Matthew wouldnât have expected from the man. Strong arms catch him as he falls. âI got him. I got him.â
A hand presses against his forehead. âHeâs burning up. Buck, can you carry him?â
âSure.â Matthew feels himself being lifted off the ground. âHeâs a lot lighter than he looks. Like he ainât even here, hardly.â
âHow long has he been like this?â The other voiceâHenryâsâsounds worried.
âLike this? He didnât get this bad âtill he fell out of my truck. Else Iâd have got here fasterâŚâ
âHow was he when you first picked him up?â
âNot great, but better than this. Jesus, he looks a lot smaller like this. Almost like a kid.â
A door opens forcefully. Matthew feels cool air hit his face. Theyâre in Henry Lancieâs waiting room.
âGrace, call an ambulance.â Henryâs voice is crisp and professional. âThen get in the exam room. Iâm going to need everyoneâs help.â
An older woman gasps in surprise. âWhat in Godâs name happened to that boy?â
The ground is soft, covered in decaying leaves and thick moss. The leaves crunch softly beneath Matthewâs feet as he walks, and the farther he walks, the louder the music grows. The two voices, he realizes, are a man and a woman singing together. Their voices blend together so well he hadnât been able to tell them apart until now. As he grows even closer he can hear the distinct wail of a baby crying.
Ahead of him the three trunks are surrounded by a faint nimbus of light. The trees are thinning, and more sunlight is filtering through. He might be reaching the edge. He quickens his pace.
A bright, indistinct light plays over Matthewâs face. He wants it to stopâit hurtsâbut he feels powerless to do anything about it.
âHis pupils arenât contracting.â Henryâs voice is still crisp and professional, but itâs a bit tighter than it was before.
âHe looks dead,â Buck says.
âHeâs not dead. Heâs still breathing, and he has a pulse.â
âJust mean he looks dead. Eyes open, staring into space like that.â
âIâve never seen this before,â Henry admits. Then, raising his voice: âGrace! Where are you?â
The trees thin, and in the distance he sees something man-made rise beyond them. The light grows stronger, and as he nears the edge of the forest he sees a stone gray tower, two or three stories high, rise up above the treeline. The singing comes from there.
Matthew runs. Passing out of the forest, he sees the tower is taller than he first thought, because it sits in a valley below the forest. It is actually six or seven stories high, and the singing doesnât come from within, but just outside.
A man and a woman stand at the foot of the tower, right in front of a heavy open door leading within. They face each other and sing the song, noticing nothing but each other and the tiny bundle in the womanâs armsâa baby, crying fiercely.
Matthew crouches, then lays down flat behind a large stone that juts out just beyond the forest, overlooking the valley below. He doesnât move. He breathes as shallowly as he can, making as little noise as he can, and watches.
The man and woman are dressed in dark cloaks, hoods pulled back, their faces clearly visible in the sun. The woman has long auburn hair and smooth, white skin. The man is older but not old, and though he isnât the man whoâd presided over the chapel the night before, Matthew is struck by the similarities between them.
The woman, still singing, holds the crying child in front of her. The man, still singing, reaches out to hold it as well. Together, still singing, they lift the child above their heads, as though offering it up to the sky. Its wailing grows, louder and more desperate, but the man and the woman stare at it lovingly, and their singing never stops.
They stand there for some time, singing, holding the child in the air. The child continues to cry and wail, reaching a shrieking pitch that makes Matthew uncomfortable. The man steps back, releasing the child, and the woman draws the child close to her breast, stroking its head as she continues to sing. The child does not stop crying.
The man steps through the door into the tower and the woman follows with the crying child. Matthew wants to move closer, but dares not: there is no place to hide in the valley, and he feels itâs very important to stay out of sight.
The singing and screaming continues from inside, both growing in strength and volume. Just as the singing reaches its crescendo, so does the wailingâand then, immediately, both stop.
A door crashes open.
âTheyâre here!â Buck shouts. Matthew hears others entering the room, along with the beep of machinery and the sound of squeaking wheels.
âThank God.â Henryâs professional demeanor is starting to crack.
âWhatâs the problem?â Matthew doesnât recognize the voice. He sees a blurry, indistinct face peering down at him.
âIâll tell you on the way,â Henry says. âWhat little I know. Right now we need to get this man on your ambulance and get some fluids in him. Heâs burning with fever, and was puking his guts out a few minutes back.â
âOK,â the voice says. âLetâs get him on the stretcher and tie him down.â
Matthew presses against the rock, staring down at the silent tower as a feeling of dread settles over the valley. He can see no movement at all from within the tower itself.
Moments later the man and the woman emerge from the tower door. Matthew sees with the relief that the woman still carries the child, and the child is alive. It has stopped crying, and contents itself by calmly tugging at a lock of the womanâs hair.
The man and woman embrace, and the man strokes the childâs face softly, smiling and gazing at it fondly. He kisses the woman on her forehead. She holds out the child to the man, who holds it as she raises her hood over head, obscuring her face. She takes the child back and turns away, walking further into the valley. The man stands in silence, watching her leave, and when she disappears from sight he disappears back into the tower.
A few seconds later Matthew hears the sound of stone scraping against stone. Again and again he hears it: stone scraping against stone, and then the sound of metal striking against stone, and then the sound of more stone scraping against stone.
Matthew stands and makes his way down into the valley. Glancing at the sky, he sees itâs almost evening. A few bright stars pierce through the darkening blue sky. The sound of scraping continues as he nears the tower entrance.
Then, all at once, the sound stops. Matthew stands still, rooted to the spot. He wants to run back to his rock, to hide once again, but he canât muster the will to move.
The man appears at the tower entrance. His cloak is covered in dust and dirt, and his face is red and sweaty, but he radiates strength and power. Matthew suppresses a tremor. The man sees him and halts. There is no discernible emotion on his face, but his body is tense and rigid.
âInteresting,â the man says.
Matthew doesnât reply. His heart pounds in his chest.
âYouâre not supposed to be here,â the man says.
Matthew forces himself to speak. âI didnât mean to trespassââ
âNo,â the man interrupts, âyou donât understand. Youâre not supposed to be hereâŚâ
The man begins to sing. Not the song Matthew heard earlier, but a single, deep, terrible note. It echoes through the valley, and the ground begins to shake. Matthew falls to his knees, overcome with pain: it feels as though he were being shaken from the inside out, as though the sound itself were vibrating him to pieces. He knees on the earth and shuts his eyes as his body tears to pieces, and then he thinks he hears voices calling out to him, âMatthew⌠Matthew⌠MatthewâŚâ
âMatthew!â Henryâs voice cuts through to him at last. âCome on, come back. Matthew, if you can hear me, weâre taking you to the hospital now. Matthew. Matthew!â
Matthew convulses once, then tries to sit up, only to be restrained by straps tying him to a gurney.
âEasy now!â Henryâs face peers down over him in a mixture of surprise and concern. âJust relax. You were in arrest for a minute there. Youâre in an ambulance. Weâre taking you to the hospital.â
âI⌠what?â Matthew looks around wildly. âWhere am I?â
âEverythingâs fine,â Henry says. âYou had a little heart attack there, just a second ago. Scared me half to death. But you pulled out of that.â
âBut whereâs the forest? How did I get here from the forest?â Matthew tries to sit again, only to be restrained, yet again, by the straps.
Henry frowns and puts his hand over Matthewâs forehead. âWhat forest? Donât you remember Buck driving you to my office?â
Matthew shakes his head. âI was just there! A tower in a valley, near an old forestâŚâ
Henry stares down at Matthew, nonplussed, then looks over to someone just out of Matthewâs field of vision. âThink Iâd better sedate him before this gets worse.â
âNo!â Matthew feels a surge of desperation-fueled strength as he tries to get out of restraints, but itâs not enough. âHenry, I swear, I was just there. In a valley, about six stories highââ
âJust hold still,â Henry soothes. âYouâre going to be all right. Time for you to sleep.â
âBut I donât want to sleep! I want toââ
Something sharp pricks at Matthewâs skin. He tries to twist away, but hands hold him firmly in place until the injection is complete.
âI donât⌠want⌠to sleepâŚâ
The world around him begins to dim and blur.
âI was just there,â he mumbles.
âWell, youâre here now,â Henry says. âGo to sleep.â
The world goes dark.
11 comments
Moar potential fixes!
* Missing “see” and wrong quotation mark:
> âHere, give me an arm, Matt, and weâll about getting youââ
Seems like there is a “see” missing between “we’ll” and “about”, plus the closing quotation has been replaced by the open quotation. Should perhaps be:
> âHere, give me an arm, Matt, and weâll see about getting youââ
* An audible forest edge?
> and as he hears the edge of the forest he sees a stone gray tower
Perhaps you meant “nears” instead of “hears”:
> and as he nears the edge of the forest he sees a stone gray tower
* Intruding underscores:
> Matthew is s__truck by the similarities between them.
Perhaps should be:
> Matthew is struck by the similarities between them.
* “fail” > “wail”
> The child continues to cry and fail
Perhaps should be:
> The child continues to cry and wail
* “things” > “thinks”
> and then he things he hears voices calling out to him, âMatthew⌠Matthew⌠MatthewâŚâ
Perhaps should be:
> and then he thinks he hears voices calling out to him, âMatthew⌠Matthew⌠MatthewâŚâ
* quotations open twice:
âMatthew!â Henryâs voice cuts through to him at last. âCome on, come back. Matthew, if you can hear me, weâre taking you to the hospital now. âMatthew. Matthew!â
The quotation opens at [[“Come on, come back]], but also opens again at [[âMatthew. Matthew!â]] without closing in between.
* nonplussed: bewildered or unimpressed?
> Henry stares down at Matthew, nonplussed,
This sentence made me look up the word “nonplussed”, even though I thought I knew what it meant. And then I discovered I didn’t really know. And now I wonder how much reading I misinterpreted that included this word.
Some people suggest avoiding it because there are conflicting, almost contradictory, definitions for it:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKiShdLoas4
The “unimpressed” version would make me think Henry recognizes the forest.
The “bewildered” version would make me think Henry is worried Matt could be going through a stroke and wants to sedate him to avoid further brain damage.
* “beings”> “begins”:
> The world around him beings to dim and blur.
Perhaps should be:
> The world around him begins to dim and blur.
That’s it for today, but a quick question: in the table of contents for this website: why did you go from naming the chapters in the table of contents with the numerals written out (“The Points Between: Chapter Nine”), to using only digits (“The Points Between: Chapter 10”)? See the ToC in the sidebar to the right of each chapter page.
Random comment:
> By late afternoon Matthew has given up on the painting entirely. (…) He throws away the last of his coke, still unfinished.
No wonder he’s feeling dizzy, the day is almost gone and he had nothing but the omelet and a coke… Perhaps he’s dizzy from hunger, or hypoglycemia đ
By the way, if you’d rather I stop poking at the content of the story and limit myself to comments on grammar and orthography, please let me know!
By the way, the new chapter is awesome, bringing new dimensions to Matthew’s interactions with the “other side” (spring, daytime).
You’re free to poke at the story all you want! I like that it raises questions. There are no guarantees that I’ll address them though, at least not while it’s being actively posted đ
Because I get tired of spelling out the numbers. I’m inconsistent about it, but I’m OK with that.
Also, wow, the default blockquote style is really loud and angry!
OK, these should all be fixed!
>Youâre not supposed to be hereâŚ
Is that because the Lady just walked off with him? Things get difficult when loops start overlaying each other :{
She walked off with the child, the man watched her go and went back into the tower.
Another issue I just thought of:
> âHis pupils arenât dilating.â Henryâs voice is still crisp and professional, but itâs a bit tighter than it was before.
IANAD, but it seems to me that when doctors shine a light on someone’s eyes, they want to check if the pupils constrict, not dilate. Interesting article about it:
https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/news/media/releases/shining_a_light_on_pupil_constriction
You could cover your bases and have Henry say that Matt’s pupils weren’t reacting, or that he had no pupil reflex.
Oh, and any opinion on the “nonplussed” thing I mentioned?
Contract is what I meant to use. I do get those mixed up for some reason.
I don’t know what to say about the nonplussed thing. I’m using the word right. đ