Story #50 - Vowed

Vowed

She hadn’t been the devil when he married her; apparently Satan worked in mysterious ways.

There was no specific moment he could point to, no single defining act that pushed her over the edge to a place where they barely spoke – yelled, really – in order to get what they needed across to one another.

His friends assured him it was all her fault, that’d she simply been saving it up over the years, waiting to pounce on him as soon as he let his guard down, but he couldn’t believe it. They’d spent five years together before ever taking to the altar and he was sure she’d been different, sure that she’d been more full of life and vitality before wedding vows crossed her lips.

He had to admit the same was true of him; he’d been more interested in her, body and soul, before they’d made arrangements for a date at the church, before they’d taken their love and made it public, codified it. He couldn’t blame her, not entirely, but that didn’t mean he was happy.

Stopping the tape he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment against the pain. She must have been watching their wedding video herself – he’d never bothered but it had been in the player when he turned it on. At first he’d considered just smashing it, enjoying the sensation as tiny plastic pieces sharded and skittered across the floor, but curiosity had overcome cruelty and he’d started at the beginning, marveling at just how good she looked and the weight he once didn’t have.

A deep breath in and he pressed play again. “To have and to hold, till bzzzt do us part.” He frowned. Must just be a tape artifact, but he rewound and tried again. The same.

Strange.

Nothing around the word was buzzed out, nothing else seemed even remotely damaged and yet here there was a problem, a sound that didn’t make sense.

It must have been her.

Anger rose; she must have done something to it! Maybe she was planning a divorce – if she could show she never said “till death”, maybe she could eke out a better settlement from the courts. That bitch!

A few moments of thudding heart and pulsing veins passed before he realized that made no sense. Vows were vows and their and legal union had been dually recognized – a fuzzed word would make no difference. Still – it was damned odd.

Another rewind and watch produced the same buzz, but he’d swear he could hear something underneath it, something low-toned and almost hidden by the jagged noise above. Turning up the volume, he rewound again and could hear it – a growl, deeper than it had any right to be and chasing the word she spoke at that moment.

He listened five more times, each time convinced he was going to hear nothing, going to hear the word he was supposed to instead of whatever strange circumstance was presenting itself.

Really, what did it matter? He’d never hear anything of use anyway, even if he was lucky enough to divine what exactly was going on. There was nothing to be learned here, nothing that would teach him why she’d changed or why she was so hateful. In fact, he’d probably be better of never looking at the tape again, never thinking about how their marriage started but instead focus on how to end it, on how to quickly get away. That was the only way, really, the only sane option for someone like him. The only choice.

Before he realized he’d moved he was above the tape player, one hand hovering over the eject button and the other balled into a fist. To what? Destroy the thing as it came sliding out? What the hell was wrong with him?

Backing away slowly, he forced his mind away from the tape and their marriage itself and focused again on the strange noise he’d heard. Something didn’t want him to contemplate it; something was trying to interfere.

He wasn’t a suspicious guy, usually, but this was just one more piece in a puzzle that made no sense; a picture that didn’t add up to what was on the box.

Only one reasonable choice presented itself. The Internet.

Five hours later and a case of wearied-eye tiredness he had an answer. Granted, it was about the stupidest thing he’d ever heard but it was definitive – and what’s more, it fit.

But…really?

He’d never imagined he’d actually be right, though it seemed he couldn’t really blame her for it. According to what he’d learned it was only in a specific set of circumstances, only a particular call and answer that opened up applicants to a potential danger. It was the single word, death, in context, that gave possibility to a manifest spirit.

A quick re-read confirmed what he was slowly beginning to believe. It wasn’t logical; it wasn’t possible, but it may have actually happened.

She wasn’t the devil, but their marriage vows might have opened her to being a conduit for the Lord of Flies himself, a passage for negative energies that no one could possibly have predicted.

Anger rose up hot and bitter, and he walked away, leaving the thing running and the page glowing wanly. This was madness; a way to pin blame on her when they had enough to share.

Stories of Satan – of vows that somehow made newlyweds open to the touch of a dark force – things like that simply didn’t happen. He was an idiot.

The day was warm; despite his whirling thoughts, he drifted off to sleep on the couch. It was the sound of breaking glass that jolted him out of a shifting dream world, a vision of his lovely wife stalking into the room, fists clenched and eyes blazing.

This was not the woman he’d married, the woman he’d agreed to spend his life with. This was a ravening creature, hands locked into claws, face contorted into a rictus, a snarl.

This was a creature of vows.

- D