You Meant it for Evil - 23

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You meant it for evil - 23
by Maeryn Lamonte

Lips brushed ever so lightly, ever so briefly, but enough. I felt the power enter me again, felt the familiar dizzy sensation, felt myself growing, straining the fabric of my clothes. The comforting weight of my hair receded. Delicate nylon stretched and tore, the straps of my sandals snapped and along with them the last of my strength. I sagged to my knees, Ken's knees. Lifted my hands to my face, Ken's hands, Ken's face. I opened my mouth to cry out, but no sound would come. Inside something broke and what poured out and spread through every fibre of my being was a most profound and utter sense of loss that went beyond imagining.

-oOo-

The next thing I remember was a hand on my shoulder. Strong fingers gripping tight. I didn't want to raise my head, everything hurt too much. So much loss. How could I live now?

“You did it.”

It was the old tramp. His wasn't a voice I was ever going to forget, and now the kindness was back in it. I turned slowly to look at him. His eyes were streaming with tears and around them his leather skin stretched into more laughter lines than I'd ever seen on one face. He looked deep into me and said once more with infinite kindness.

“You did it.”

It didn't stop the pain. For so much of my life I had wanted but never dared hope for the life Mary had given me. For the past few months I had lived as I'd always wanted to be, and I had truly lived. I had done such wonderful things, made such a difference in people’s lives, loved like I had never loved before. Just a few short months and I had lived more than I had in all the twenty seven years before.

And now it was gone.

I buried my face in his jacket and wept for the loss. I know it's not what guys are supposed to do, but I couldn't help it.

“I don't know if I can pay the price.”

“You already did child.”

“But I don't know if I can live with the cost.”

Strong arms encircled me and held me close. I cried 'til I ran out of tears, and then heaved up dry sobs of purest misery. Tears were supposed to help, to heal, but there was no ending to this pain. Even when I had no more strength left to cry the consequences of my choice weighed down on me still and it hurt so much.

He waited until I was quiet and lifted me gently to my feet.

“Let me show you what your sacrifice bought.”

The room filled with darkness, which condensed out of the air forming tendrils which coalesced to become... Him.

“What happened here? What did you do?”

His voice was less scratchy than when it played inside my head, but again I recognised him. Dark suit and bowler hat, dark eyes, dark manner.

“She did it. She bested you.”

“She? Have you looked between 'her' legs lately?”

“BE SILENT!”

It was a roar of pure indignation, powerful enough to make even the man in black step back and close his mouth.

“You will not speak your lies here. You spend all of your existence spreading your filth, trying to persuade people down paths they would not choose to make them just as miserable as yourself, just as capable of spreading misery as yourself. All you see are your own selfish desires, all you know is the misery and pain you feel, and the misery and pain you cause others.

“You delight in you little schemes, preying on the base nature in men to corrupt them, encouraging their own selfish nature and all the while backing them into a corner until they have little choice but to bend to your will. You seek to control, to twist and torture for your own pleasure, but you forget, you always forget, that all that is needed to collapse your house of cards is one act of selflessness.

“There were eight others. Bring them.”

“They're mine. They took their own lives.”

“Only after you took every reason they had to live. Bring them.”

Eight transparent figures appeared around the room, all of them copies of me — at least me as I used to be. I would have given anything to trade places with just one of them. Even as a ghost I would have been able to find more happiness than I had hope for now. They were all dressed as I'd last seen them, though the effects of drugs and drowning were no longer evident. Even as I looked, they changed. Growing taller, broader, more male; the skimpy skirts and fishnet tights faded to be replaced by plane grey trousers and shirts. The old man by my side addressed them.

“You have a choice. You can go back where you just came from or take a chance with me. Just come over here if you can believe that what I have to offer is better than what you've received so far.”

To a man they crossed the room. More magical morphing and they were wearing robes. White ones. What kind of cliché was that? One of the eight seemed to be thinking along similar lines.

“Hey what's with the dresses man?”

“They're called robes son. Men have worn them for far longer than they have the trousers you're more used to. Give them a try, I think you'll learn to like them. Of course if you're going to make an issue of it, you can always go back over there.”

That seemed to settle the matter. They all quietened down a moment later they were gone. My companion turned again to the man in black.

Something had been bothering me since they all appeared. I finally figured it out.

"Weren't there nine who died?"

"Yes, but the one you took to the hospital already made her peace."

Asked and answered. He turned his attention back to the dark figure opposite him.

“Now those still altered against their will. Jordan and Evelyn.”

I turned to the door in time to see two familiar forms — frozen in time — shimmer and change. Jordan turned out to be six foot plus with broad shoulders and large muscles, which were now stretching and tearing his sweatshirt and even the denim of his jeans. Evelyn was once more the attractive, silver haired old lady I had first met a week previously. There was something else not right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the man next to me was speaking again and I turned my attention to his words.

“And now this.”

He reached out over Paul's recumbent form and drew a darkness from it into his hand. In time he held a small black sphere, no larger than a marble and swirling as if filled with smoke.

“This power is broken and so are you. You have no more influence in this realm, that assurance has been bought and paid for in full. Now get out of here.”

The last ended up as a booming command that brooked no argument. It hadn't been directed at me and even I felt the urge to run. The man in black struggled to resist, but there was no denying it. With one final howl of rage, he exploded into the darkness from which he had formed, and faded into nothing.

My companion held me by my shoulders at arm's length. I must have seemed less impressed than he'd hoped because his face lost much of its radiant joy.

“I could show you all the thousands of despairing people who would have gone to their graves in misery and without hope had you not stopped this.”

“It's not that. The price was worth it, even for what you showed me. I just don't know if I can afford the cost. This loss is too hard to accept”

I twisted out of his grasp and turned away from him. My body had found a fresh reserve supply of tears and my eyes were filling once more.

“It had to be a sacrifice, child. What you offered had to have value if it was to buy back the lives and happiness of these people.”

I nodded my understanding as his confirmation of my loss crushed the last vestiges of hope within me.

“You found the courage to give it up. You will find the courage to live.”

I shrugged dismissively I hoped. I needed to be alone to face this now. I knew he could read my thoughts, he'd done it before in the park, but he wasn't taking hints this time.

“Do you remember when we first met you wondered how many years I'd spent on the streets with people looking down on me, despising me?”

I nodded. I didn't trust my voice or the words I might say right now.

“The answer is more than you can imagine. I've lived so many lifetimes like this even though I don't have to . Do you know why I keep doing it? Living like this?”

I shrugged.

“It's for moments like this one, when I see humanity's true potential realised. I saw it inside you the day we met, but to witness it brought to a conclusion like this is... glorious. I know you only feel the pain of your loss right now, but that will pass. Soon enough you will find reason to rejoice.”

I knew he meant well, but nothing he said penetrated the anguish that tormented me. I could face him or anyone right now and he sensed this. He squeezed my shoulder one last time, turned and walked away. I thought I heard a few muffled words spoken, as though he were muttering under his breath, then he was gone. I could feel something in the atmosphere dissipate and steeled myself for the flow of time to return and with it the need to face my friends.

There would be well meant words of sympathy, of thanks perhaps, of who knows what. But I was cocooned in my misery and nothing could penetrate the shell. Their best efforts would only serve to add to my pain.

A hand on my shoulder again, smaller and gentler this time. I glanced down at it and recognised Mike's short nails and slender fingers; almost too slender for a man's. I turned my head away, not wishing him to see me like this.

“Mike no. I can't.”

The hand was firm and insistent and I hadn't the strength to resist. He turned me to face him and I dropped my gaze. I couldn't take what I was sure I would see in those eyes. I reached for the ring, thinking he might want it back, but my finger had grown inside of it and was even now swollen and blue. I realised it actually hurt, and the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside me.

I raised my hand to show him.

“I think we're going to have to cut it off. The ring I mean, I'd rather like to keep the finger.”

He cupped my chin and lifted my face until I was forced to look into his eyes.

“He let me see it all. I couldn't move, but I saw everything. At first I didn't understand why you did what you did, but now I know.”

That must have been the wrongness that had caught my eye, his eyes moving in an otherwise still body. It didn't matter, I couldn't endure him seeing me like this. I tried to move my head but he held it still.

“Mike, please. I never meant to hurt you, I never wanted you to see me like this.”

He kept looking into my eyes as if searching for something and I couldn't help but look back. Nothing I had expected to see was there. Not horror or disgust, not sorrow or regret. Just amazement, wonder and... love?

“All I see is the girl I fell in love with.”

With that he leaned forward and kissed me. Mike, my very straight, occasionally unintentionally slightly homophobic, but well-meaning fiancé drew me to him and kissed me gently, softly on the lips.

Something was different. At first I thought it was me feeling awkward being kissed by a guy when I was a guy myself — at least on the outside — but there was something else too. Nothing changed, at least not immediately. I opened my eyes and looked into his and he was smiling. He glanced down and I followed his gaze. In his free hand he held what looked like a large opalescent pearl.

“He said something to me before he left. He said this was meant for evil but maybe in the right hands, driven by the right heart, something better could be made of it. He said it would only work one last time.”

He grasped my hand — the one with the ring and the swollen finger — and held the small artefact between our palms. A brilliance began to shine out from between our entwined fingers and a tingling warmth spread through me, starting in the palm of my hand and spreading out until it filled every extremity in my body. I could see Mike squinting and realised that the brilliance must have transferred itself to me, shining from every pore in my body and... changing me. Mike seemed to grow a little and I looked down at myself as flesh faded from my limbs. Arms, hands, fingers, feet, legs, waist, all became slender, delicate, beautiful. Hips and breasts grew to match and, like a waterfall in slow motion, those auburn curls I had grown to love — and at times hate — tumbled down over my back and shoulders. I lifted my free hand to explore my face and felt high cheekbones, full lips, small button nose.

“But... I don't understand.”

“He also told me that just because you sacrifice something, it doesn't mean you have to lose it forever. Apparently there's a precedent.”

The glow subsided and he disengaged his hand from mine. The pearl still remained in the palm of his hand, but there was something gone from it. It was inert, lifeless, spent.

It was almost too much. To have been pulled so deeply into despair, only to have that oppressive weight lifted and thrown away was almost more than I could stand. I would have fallen in a boneless heap had Mike not been there to hold me up, and tears like I have never known flowed freely and in abundance from my already weary eyes. Alternately laughing and crying, I clung weakly to Mike and let the relief flood through me.

-oOo-

Time returned once more. The unnatural silence that had surrounded Mike and myself filled with a low sound that wound up like an old fashioned gramophone and we were surround by confused and insistent voices, cries of wonder and joy, cries of confusion and protest. Doctor Marston approached, hovering nearby, torn between his curiosity and his polite discretion. I pulled wobbly legs under me and turned a radiant smile his way.

“It's finished Doctor. You can release him.”

“You sure?”

Paul was straining against his bonds, still immobile.

“I'm sure. Whatever power he had has been taken from him and broken. He can't hurt anyone now.”

The doctor set about loosening the straps and I turned Mike to face the two other people in the room with us.

I disengaged from Mike to give the real Evelyn a hug. Tears were streaming down her face and she kept shaking her head in wordless gratitude and wonder. The clothes hung loose on her and she had to cling to the belt to keep her trousers up.

I turned to Jordan, eyes drawn inexorably down to the large bulge between his legs and something that didn't quite fit.

“I think we need to get you some clothes as soon as we can.”

He looked down and blushed.

“Oh. Actually that's... not me.”

He reached down to pull out the bit that was showing and it detached causing Mike to go pale.

“No it's alright, my little chap's still down there. This is just... You know, what you gave me last week? I guess I don't need it anymore”

The bulge in his knickers confirmed what he was saying. He offered me the prosthetic and I shook my head laughing.

“Don't take this the wrong way but I don't really want it back. Why don't you keep it as a memento. Mount it and hang it on the wall. It'll give you a conversation starter if nothing else. I still think we should get you some clothes though.”

The doctor had finished releasing Paul, who approached his mother apprehensively. She was just as wary of him for a moment, but then her instincts took over and she opened her arms to him. He accepted the embrace silently, burying his face in her neck to hide his own tears. Despite his selfishness and decidedly poor judgement, he'd been through his own hell and needed to heal.

The doctor looked around at us , abruptly all decisive and pragmatic.

“Lunch. No, clothes for you first then lunch. And explanations. Not for the paperwork you understand, for peace of mind for all of us.”

I glanced at the clock. Twenty to two. Just ten minutes had passed, perhaps more subjectively given that interesting trick with time. My stomach growled to tell me I'd been neglecting it, which brought about a few chuckles and a general mobilisation towards seeing the doctor's plan through.

Doctor Marston led us to a conference room and had sandwiches brought to us, and a pair of light cotton scrubs for Jordan — I kept calling him Charley — who disappeared for a moment then re-joined us looking relieved and agreeably more decent. I was given the floor but insisted that we eat first. As well as replenishing all my spent energy, it gave me time to think through what needed to be said.

It took a while to go through the whole story. Most of those present had relatively small parts in the whole and they kept interrupting to ask questions. Eventually I finished with the events of that afternoon, glossing over some of the less essential details.

All that remained was to decide what happened next.

Evelyn and Paul decided to travel back to Grays where Paul would help his mother repair the damage to her home. Small enough penance in my mind, but it was Evelyn's choice. Doctor Marston agreed to drop them off at the local station and they would take the train from there.

Charley — no Jordan — would also be released that same day, there being no further reason for keeping him there as well as some potentially difficult questions if he were to stay. He decided his first stop should be home to reassure his parents. The doctor looked over at Mike and me.

“Jordan's parents live near you. Was wondering if you could drop him home?”

I turned to Jordan.

“I can probably go one better. Do you have a driving license?”

He nodded.

“I'm not sure I'm safe behind the wheel of a car right now. My insurance will cover you if you don't mind driving my little baby to my home and making your way from there.”

“What car d'you have. I mean if it's too girly... You know my reps taken a big enough hit as it is.”

I pointed at the roadster and watched his grin broaden. I handed him the keys.

“Please put the bags and clothes next to the four by four before you leave. The address is in the satnav. Just turn it on and hit take me home. Lock the keys in the boot when you get there, I have a spare set in the flat.”

-oOo-

Mike and I took one last turn around the gardens, both of us feeling the need for their calming influence before we headed off. There was a good possibility that we'd never be coming back this way and, in the few brief visits we'd made, we'd both grown to love and appreciate the quite serenity of the place.

Apart from some of the inmates that is. An elderly man approached us, his face contorted in distress.

“Have you seen my Sally. She's around here somewhere. I have to find her.”

I'd come across him on at least one of my previous visits. Sally, the doctor had told me, had been Mr Dawkins' daughter who'd died in a car accident some years previously. Mr D had never been able to accept the loss and after my recent experience I could sympathise. I reached out a hand to him in comfort and he settled the moment I touched him.

“She's gone isn't she? My Sally's...”

“I'm sorry.”

“No it's... It's alright. I... Thank-you.”

In something of a daze he walked back towards the main building leaving Mike and me staring after him.

“Did what I think just happened just happen?”

“I don't know. It could have been coincidence.”

We walked around a little longer without further incident until three o'clock came round and we had to get off so Mike could prepare for the evening.

“Come back to the restaurant with me? I don't want to be away from you tonight.”

I smiled and nodded my agreement. We followed Mr Dawkins's path back towards the main building, and from there to the car. A question nagged at me. I slipped my arm around Mike's waist and snuggled in close to him.

“If I hadn't changed back, if I'd been stuck as Ken, what would you have done?”

“I don't know. We'd have worked something out, I mean I did make you a promise after all. 'Before the eyes of God, now and forever in all things, I am yours', remember?”

I leaned hard against him, knocking us off course for a moment.

“I don't want to wait 'til August. How do you feel about a Spring wedding?”

“Not much of Spring left.”

“There's still enough if we get our act together.”

“Well the cherry trees behind the restaurant are in blossom. Might last another two or three weeks if we're lucky.”

“Sounds perfect and I feel lucky. Let's see what we can get arranged in the time.”

We reached the car and he helped me to climb up into my seat before walking round the back to load my things in the boot. As he took his place behind the wheel he looked across at me.

“When was the last time I told you I loved you?”

“Not so long ago I've forgotten. Not so recently that that I would object to you doing it again.”

He reached over to kiss me before putting the car in gear.

-oOo-

Epilogue

-oOo-

I pick the frame up off its bracket and carried it to a nearby chair where my cup of tea is waiting. Coffee is a young person's drink, which I gave up over thirty years ago. I settle carefully into the chair, old age making my movements slow and cautious.

The frame shows Mike and me on our wedding day. Me in that great meringue of a dress, strapless and beaded with pearls. My choice and the finest in the Elle-gance wedding collection. Certainly the most expensive. Mike wore a plain charcoal suit with a cravat. Neither of us were that keen on top hat and tails, any more than we liked the idea of ties. The suit and cravat seemed a reasonable compromise and looked just right on him. We were framed on either side by cherry trees, the blossom falling about us like confetti. Our photographer had managed to capture the look of wonder and delight on both our faces at the effects of that sudden breeze.

I touch the picture and it changes, fading into a similar shot but from a greater distance and encircling us are the words, 'Mike and Liz's Wedding'. Not particularly original but what more do you need? I swipe across the picture and it does the digital equivalent of peeling off to reveal the next photograph underneath.

It's called digital paper; a revolution from some forty years ago, and improved with each passing year. It didn't need the frame, but could be awkward to use without something giving it rigidity. The material covers most desks and work surfaces these days, including kids desks at school and home. It's hard to remember how limited the first versions were when compared to this. Touch sensitive with a micro foil computer on the back and WiFied into the UltraNet. Digital data is so these days, it makes you wonder what we did way back when.

The first few shots are more of Mike and me, both together and on our own. I pause on a close up of Mike and blink back a tear. Today would have been our sixtieth wedding anniversary had he survived to see it. He's been gone three years now and I still missed him terribly, but I suppose that's at least one consequence of marrying nine years older than you. Usually I'm able to fill the hole he left in my life with memories of all the things we did together, all the places we visited, but days like today I allow myself a little sadness.

I flip the page and there he is again, this time in an off-guard moment, staring in mute appreciation at the Morgan Plus 8 sitting in the car park in front of his restaurant. Cousin Katie had confided in me that he'd always wanted one but never been able to justify the expense. I hadn't needed to, although the only way I'd been able to buy one in time for the wedding had been to go second hand. Being on the road helped as I had been able to view quite a few around the country. I enlisted the car check services of one of the roadside assistance organisations more than once and managed to escape a few near disasters. Eventually I found one that had been bought and garaged as an investment, and managed to negotiate a fair price. Mike held onto the car for twenty years before soaring petrol prices made it unaffordable for even us to run. He wasn't prepared to convert it to hydrogen cell — sacrilege in such a piece of motoring art — and had eventually donated it to a grateful car museum, where it is still on display. I should know, I visit regularly.

I swipe the screen. Back to me in close up, this time with a good view of my necklace. Mike had taken the pearl like object that had remained after my final transformation to a jeweller he knew. The result was the epitome of simplicity and elegance. A platinum band wrapped around the opalescent sphere and attached to a matching chain. I have worn it every day since our wedding, including today.

Swipe.

A group shot with Phil as Mike's best man and Sharon as my maid of honour. A few years ago Phil and Sharon retired to the south of France where the Mediterranean sun cured them into the sort of invincible, leathery old people you find in such places. Phil will be eighty-seven this year and Sharon just a year younger, but they keep on. Of course the advances in age prevention help no end. I stopped taking them after Mike passed on. No-one to make the effort for, no reason to hang around longer than I need to. The lines are beginning to show and I welcome them. I don't see it so much as giving up, but rather letting nature have its way.

Phil and Sharon have invited me out to visit this summer and I've agreed. It will be my first time out of the country since I lost Mike, and I find I'm actually looking forward to it.

Swipe.

My bridesmaids. Sharon obviously, Charlotte, my fellow catwalk model, Cassie, radiating her delight, and my two nieces, Gemma and Abbie, grinning for England, so pleased were they to be a part of Auntie Liz's wedding. The dresses were lavender. Not my favourite colour, but very flattering on Sharon, Charlotte and even Cassie.

Swipe.

The next was of Cassie and her mother. It's hard to think of little Cassie as being in her seventies now. Life has this trick of catching us unawares at times.

Swipe.

Pastor James and his lovely wife Marion. Pastor James conducted the wedding service. The legal part had been sorted with much giggling at the local registry office. The registrar had spoken to us in solemn tones of the seriousness of our undertaking, and I had been hard pressed not to give in to the giggles then and there. By the time we left with ink drying on our piece of legalese, Mike, Phil and Sharon had caught it as well and we had to sit down on the steps to let the laughter subside. Married three times Mike and me. First when we made our promises that first time together. Second in the registry office. Third and most properly by Pastor James.

Swipe.

Mr and Mrs Anderton-Buckley. I'd taken Clive to one side the Sunday after it was all over and told him how things had resolve themselves. He Nodded his thanks but shown no further emotion. I asked him why he wasn't angry, having gone to all that trouble to put together the two identities, for them to be made useless so soon. The memory of his response drifts forward from the recesses of my mind.

“Oh I wouldn't say useless. A few tweaks here and there and I can give them to another deserving cause. I'm only pleased that I won't be getting any more phone calls from you in the ungodly hours of the morning. I am assuming this is all over now.”

I nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

“That's for being so fantastic over all this. And if there's anything Mike or I can do for you, any time of the day or night. I mean it's only fair.”

He had taken us up on that a couple of times when he'd needed a place to keep someone safe at short notice, but he hadn't even come close to over-extending his credit with us.

Swipe

Doctor Marston with wife and children. A happier brood I never saw — until I had one of my own of course. It turned out that the incident in the gardens wasn't a one off. The doctor called me during the week to ask if I'd bumped into Mr Dawkins in the garden and, after I explained what had happened, he asked if I would come back to the institute to spend time with some of his other patients. It turned out that I had a calming influence whoever I touched, something that came in very handy when I had children of my own, or even when I was with other people's children. Just one touch and they calmed down. Every mother should be so blessed.

I spent quite a few Saturdays with Doctor Marston and his patients over the years. He was a good enough doctor to make use of a treatment that worked, even if he didn't understand how or why.

Swipe.

Jordan with a very dishy young girl on his arm. He'd delivered the roadster unscathed to my flat and followed all my instructions to the letter before walking the last half mile to his parent's home. We lost touch shortly after the wedding, but from what I saw of him, I imagine he lived a happy enough life.

Swipe.

Cousin Katie, on her own but content enough. Mike and I had continued to ride her horses when we could, right up until the point she sold the stable and retired. She and I still meet regularly to exchange gossip and to share the space Mike no longer filled in our lives.

Swipe.

Michael, Colin, Aaron and a group of others from Way Out. I still love the name we chose for its double meaning. Both a way out from the hopelessness of being stuck on the streets and way out in the sense of it being a crazy idea. It had worked though, and spread throughout the country in slow but steady steps. I'm still president emeritus for the organisation, whatever that counts for, and am asked at times to speak at public events. Aaron and Michael worked with Way Out until they retired. They didn't make much money at it, but they were rich in friends and stories of lives saved. They both told me many times that they had no regrets choosing to stick with us.

Swipe.

A surprise arrival from Mum and Dad. Dad was still on crutches after his knee operation and couldn't drive, which meant he was more or less hostage to Mum's whims, and since she wasn't going to miss her daughter's wedding, that kind of meant that he had to come along too.

I would have liked him to walk me down the aisle, but with his leg and everything it wouldn't have been fair. He never came round to believing that I had once been his son, and he died saddened by the belief that Ken had met an untimely end somewhere.

There had been security footage of the room when I'd been in there with Paul, but neither angel nor demon had appeared on camera, and with all the weird stopping and starting of time, my movements and changes on the video had been so disjointed it looked like a bad fake. Not the kind of proof Dad would have accepted.

Still he had been there, and so had my mother. It had all helped to make the day special.

Swipe

Well, with Gemma and Abbie as bridesmaids and Mum and Dad present, Glen and Lisa had to be somewhere too. There were a couple of shots of them. One on their own and the other with my two little nieces, still looking a gorgeous as ever in their dresses.

Swipe

Mrs Bailey and Paul. Mrs Bailey wearing a tight smile over a navy blue skirt and jacket. Her delight in being there shining from her eyes. Paul was less enthused. Mrs Bailey and I met up once or twice after the wedding, but she wouldn't say much about Paul. I hope he learnt from his experience. I hope he learned to live a better life. Sometimes hoping is all you can do.

Swipe

Detective Inspector and Mrs Chubb. I never did learn his first name. I had phoned him while Mike was driving us home that fateful afternoon and told him all that had happened. He was grateful for the news, knowing he could close that particular file once and for all, and a week later he managed to get my watch and necklace out the Grays police station and returned to me. We didn't really see much of them at the wedding, or after. Another friend briefly met, made and misplaced.

Swipe

Ann and Karen. Dear bubbly Ann of the dreadful coffee and Karen with the eternal phone stuck to her ear. More out of desperation and survival instinct, I had bought Ann a coffee maker and several packets of decent coffee for Christmas the first year we were together. It was a simple filter machine with jugs and hotplates, but I still had to show her how to use it. After that our visits became more bearable, and oddly her client base increased, although I claim no correlation between the two events.

Ann remained my agent and I carried on working with Karen for Elle-gance for the five years I strode the catwalk. Long enough to fill my wardrobe with clothes, and Mike's and my joint account with funds. Enough to help extend his restaurant into a chain.

James and Sandy opened the first of the new places shortly after we were married, and Mike took on two new sou-chefs to train up. It took eighteen months to train someone up to Mike's exacting standards, which meant we had four other restaurants running by the time I withdrew from the limelight to start a family, all of them doing well enough to mean that my salary wasn't missed.

Joy came along less than a year later, and Ruth twenty months after that. 'A few hours of pain for a lifetime of joy', that's how our first came by her name, and she lived up to it. Except for the times when she came home with skinned knuckles after fighting in the playground — defending her friends she said — or that year when every boy she brought home — and there were a few of them — had long greasy hair and leathers. The last of the bikers, the last of the petrol heads. Perhaps it we should have kept one for posterity.

There were other incidents to deal with, but in the end she grew into a young woman who has made me immensely proud; a firebrand with ideas of her own. She's fifty four now. No husband, no children for me to spoil, but what she has achieved in her life... I look into her eyes sometimes expecting to see sadness and loneliness, but all that radiates back is fulfilment and contentment. I suppose if it is enough for her, it should be enough for me; she's found her own way to live up to her name.

Ruth also lived up to her namesake, and with a lot less hassle. Always respectful, always close to home, always looking after her mother. And happily married with three children. The oldest graduated last year and works in one of the new fusion power stations. They're getting better each year. The first ones hauled us out of the energy crisis by the roots of our hair and the skin of our teeth, and they've only improved since then. What Andrew doesn't know about fusion reactors I doubt anyone else on the planet knows. It does make him a bit of a boring conversationalist, but he's my grandson and can listen to a lot of his drivel without growing tired of it.

Melanie's my second grandchild. She started medical school last year. She wants to be a paediatrician and I wish her well with it. And that leaves Peter, still working towards his A levels with offers at several good universities to read engineering. He wants to work on the space elevator that's being built in Kenya. From what he tells me the first carbon nanotube filament runs are in place and by the time he graduates they should be strong enough to carry test modules and small payloads. It doesn't bother me, I don't expect to live long enough to see anything come of it, but I do delight in his enthusiasm.

No, the future belongs to the young now. Me? I have the present and the past, and what a past. There are times I look back and wonder what my life would have been if I had never met Mary, or if Mike hadn't been able to restore me to my preferred self. I mean in most ways both Ken and Liz were the same person, but I know as Ken I would never have accomplished so much, never have enjoyed life so much. Ken was always a bad fit for me; uncomfortable and clumsy, like wearing someone else's clothes. It was only when I was able to be the person I truly wanted to be that I was able to stop struggling with who I was and turn my attention in other more positive directions.

I take a sip of my tea, but it has grown cold. Like life in many ways. Let other things distract you and before you know it, it turns cold and brackish. Drink it while it's hot and enjoy all its benefits.

The doorbell rings and a small window opens in the corner of the screen. De-localised artificial intelligence they call it. Someone presses the button outside, the AI finds where I am and connects the doorcam to the nearest digital imaging device, in this case the photo frame. This room has cameras on the videophone and the TriV. The AI would have activated both, decided which gave the best image, zoomed in and sent that down to the door viewer. I flip the doorcam image towards the TriV, which turns on to show Ruth looking at me and smiling.

“Hi Mum, are you ready?”

“Just let me get my bag and coat sweetheart, I'll be down directly.”

Directly takes a little longer these days, but this is my day so they can wait a while. I put the picture frame back where it belongs and leave the room, still with the ghost of a feeling that I should be turning things off as I leave, but the AI is already doing so.

I close the door and let Ruth take my arm. She tells me her little lies about how lovely I look and guides me to the waiting car. No hover cars yet, not even this far into the future, but at least what we have is clean and quiet. Ruth helps me up into the front seat before climbing in behind John, her husband. There isn't much to driving these days, but still the man's place is behind the wheel. I vaguely remember once feeling things like that and I don't miss them.

We pull out into traffic. Everything seems so built up these days, it's hard to see the sky. Cloudy today so not much missed. John and Ruth chatter away, telling me the latest news from my grandchildren. They think I think we're going to a quiet little place in town for a light lunch, but Peter let something slip on his last visit and I'm expecting something more elaborate. I suppose I will have to act surprised, but I do feel like company today. Maybe Sharon and Phil will have flown in, that would be special. I fondle the pendant round my neck and think of Mike.

“I'll see you soon my love. Not today, but soon.”

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Comments

Happy Easter Everyone

That this final chapter has been published in time for Easter is pure coincidence. Happy coincidence, but coincidence just the same. If it seems that there is something a little allegorical in this tale, perhaps that isn't entirely unexpected. The story is primarily a work of fantasy although I suspect some of my beliefs and values may have leaked into the telling. I hope that they retain their worth even in this unusual context.

Maeryn Lamonte, the girl inside

Maeryn Lamonte, the girl inside

a perfect ending

I'm tearing up after reading it, and I don't mind a bit...

Dorothycolleen

DogSig.png

Wow

A great end to a great story.
Although it would've been nice to actually be there at the wedding, this looking back at it gave it a very nice "complete" feel to it.

Thank you for writing!

Love,
Amber Talamasca

The End

I loved this story. I normally don't follow serials, but this one grabbed my attention and my devotion. The end of the story was unique... One of those happy/sad endings that brings a tear to my eye. Congratulations on the completion of a well done tale.

Well done.

Just that. What else is there to say?

Maggie

Thanks Maeryn

I've followed YMIFE as you've published it, and it quickly became part of my "Must Read" list.

I thoroughly enjoyed the story, so thanks for sharing it with us, and congratulations on completing a major work.

Positive Support


Bike Resources

Definitely

something to see for Eostre. Thanks for the story!


I'll get a life when it's proven and substantiated to be better than what I'm currently experiencing.

Lovely ending

This was one of the most enjoyable stories I've read for a while. Great work with it from start to finish, Maeryn.

Lovely ending

I do have an errata question in that was Charley's male name Jason or Jordan?

Paul got off lightly and he should have made his amends to Liz though I guess it may have been implied in the explanation scene with the group.

Well Mike's kiss was almost what I thought it would be but it Disney already has too many royalties anyway. :)

It was hinted at but I wonder if Liz played any further role in the ability to bring peace to people like in that garden scene?

It's a mixed future the epilogue is showing, what with the huge population and such; wish it does not become reality.

I am still not quite sure who Liz's companion us and who the opposing number was.

For Liz it must've been reassuring to know there is a place to pass on to.

Thank you for such an amazingly done story.

Kim

Oops

Must have been that weird argonautical dream I had in the wee hours. Good catch by the way, and the correct answer should be Jordan. I managed to apply band-aids just before BCTS went through its daily reboot but then couldn't post the comment (in case anyone's wondering what this is about).

Anyway, let that be a lesson to you ladies and gents. Never try to proof a story at 5:30 in the morning after you've been awake for twenty hours and always keep an up-to-date character sheet nearby.

The identity of the supernatural beings has been kept deliberately vague. This is a fantasy and only resembles reality through my own particular pair of rose tinted (hot pink, horn rimmed) ocular enhancements. As such any resemblance to genuine supernatural entities is going to vary from reality in unusual and unpredictable ways.

Maeryn Lamonte, the girl inside

Brilliant!

I wasn't too far off in my speculation last episode that the old man would announce she'd passed the test and transform her back. But saving all the victims en-route, coupled with Mike initiating the final transformation back to her familiar form - now that I didn't expect!

A great ending to a wonderful tale - and I look forward to reading whatever story your muse comes up with next :)

 

Bike Resources

There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

In a word

There is one word comprised of two syllables that describes this...

Perfect.

Anything more just gets in the way.

BRAVO!!!!

Wonderful story. Entertaining from start to finish. This will be one of the few that I read again and again.

Keep up the great writing.

You had me in tears -- Bwaaaaah!--

Evil evil Maeryn.

Interesting flashback epilog. Her life has been bittersweet but in the best sense of that. As an old woman she is grieving for what has been lost but then what she had gained by her sacrifice all those years ago at the hospital was so wonderful... Liked the little *gifts* the old man left Mike and her. The last act of that dark magic was an act of kindness, a reward for his/her sacrifice and the calming gift she retained all her life was right... it fit her caring soul.

The Jordan/George bit had me confused but you explained it later.

Paul got off a bit easy but then the old man explained how the man of the dark had lied and twisted the lives of his victims until they believed they had nothing to live for and committed suicide. Paul was similarly deceived and now must find a way to regain his mother's love he so cruelly betrayed. So he got punished appropriately IMHO. Sad the dead could not be restored but at least they were freed from the dark one and achieved peace. Sad her father never truly believed she was his lost son and died thinking that. At least he came to the wedding and she had her mom's love.

Wish we had seen Mary one last time but perhaps her usefulness as a character was over.

Damn, I'm tearing up again.

You evil BIT**!

-- GRIN --

John in Wauwatosa

P.S. -- sniffle --

John in Wauwatosa

A beautiful story

Jemima Tychonaut's picture

A beautiful story and ending. Simply beautiful.

Thank you.



"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

You Meant it for Evil - 23

She is most definitely the Rose

[<>][<>][<>]

Some say love it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love it is a hunger
An endless, aching need
I say love it is a flower
And you its only seed.

It’s the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance.
It’s the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.
It’s the one who won’t be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying
That never learns to live.

And the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long.
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong.
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed that with the sun’s love,
In the spring,
Becomes a ROSE

[<>][<>][<>]

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Thank You

littlerocksilver's picture

Maeryn,

The allegory hit me about two paragraphs into this chapter. Very nice thoughts: if only life were that simple. I am looking forward to future stories from you. This one was certainly well done.

Girl.jpg
Portia

Portia

That was a wonderful

That was a wonderful story

----------
The world was so full of sharp bends that if they didn't put a few twists in you, you wouldn't stand a chance of fitting in. -- Terry Pratchett

Charming, wonderul and much more!

I really enjoyed this story. Great character development and more than enough twists and turns to make a reader salivate for the next chapter just to see what happens. Thank you!!!!!.......... Adoy

Lovely Story

Heart warming. Well written. I have enjoyed every episode.

Thanks for sharing.

fregen

Thank you Maeryn

Thank you Maeryn,

There is now another story completed in you collection that shows how true compassion can and does overcome many difficulties.

Thank you for telling all these fantastic stories of love and compassion.

Absolutely Beautiful!

What a wonderful story! I truly enjoyed this, and I'm looking forward to more from you!

Wren

You Are Forgiven

I completely forgive you for those sometimes upsetting/frustrating cliff hangers along the way. The ending to the story was every bit as satisfying as I'd hoped it would be (actually, way exceeding). It was a real pleasure to read the series and participate in the commentary along the way. Thank you so much for creating and sharing You Meant It for Evil.

Also, thanks for the rate of posting of the final chapters (24K + words in the last week) which I believe (based on your comments) were written as you posted.

happy ending

nice save for the happy ending . just a couple things though didnt add up in whole story 1 mary as far we know was transforming men once a week for 12 weeks so how could the 1 be pregnant enough for a still birth? and this the 1 troubles me the 1 that died from the difficulties off the still birth was given over to the evil 1 as a suicide just for giving up on life and letting her spirit pass on ? sorry that 1 just didnt set well with me as have had il reletives where it was better for em to pass on then linger in pain and sufferiing . but if the child had survived that 1 probaly woulda made a go at liveing . sorry some back chapter reminising

Discrepancies

The first Emily, the one who Liz found and took to the hospital, was one of Mary's first victims, and she was found several weeks after Mary moved on which would put her at three to four months pregnant. She had a miscarriage, which at three to four months would put the foetus at about the size I described (I think). If I've got my sums wrong then please PM me so we can sort it out.

Your second point is valid and an oversight on my part. It's far more likely that the first Emily would have made things right before she passed meaning there should have been eight souls redeemed at the last. I have rewritten with this in mind and offer my apologies for the mistake. I hope it didn't detract too much from the final chapter.

Maeryn Lamonte, the girl inside

As one ancient king was once told

You can only truly measure the happiness of one's life after the life ended. Mike was a happy man. And Liz, I guess, a happy girl. :)

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

What if...

Extravagance's picture

Liz became a vampire, and did stand-up comedy for a living?

Would she fondle the pendant around her mike and think of neck?

*Gigglegigglegiggle* =D

Catfolk Pride.PNG

Wow!

An awesome ending to a really terrific story. Thank you for this!

Absolutely beautiful!

A totally engaging story, well told. And then that beautiful, heartwrenching ending...

Thank you

Valentines_face_crop.jpg

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Thank you Maeryn -

For writing such a wonderfull story.

Thank you God for allowing me to read and enjoy it!

LoL
Rita

Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)

LoL
Rita

neatly resolved

kristina l s's picture

I knew you'd pull Liz back from Ken, just not exactly how, as the ol' saying goes, no gain without pain and.... boy... heavy duty. Battle of the entities, light and dark whatsits, good and evil, demi deities or whatever. Angels and demons? Hey don' matter none, just fit it to your own thoughts on how such such things work. Use the force Liz..err, Ken. Umm, Mike even, now that was a nice touch, growth with Love and the power it has.

Great story and nicely wound up, though I'll admit a pinch of disappointment we didn't get to see just a little more of young Liz neatening up stuff and living. Besides, would have given an even chapter number, hah. Always room for one more... thanks for this one Maeryn, t'riffic.

Kristina

You meant it for evil

Maeryn Lamonte,

What a fantastic story. I loved it very much.

Great job writing it dear.

I was worried that Liz may not have gotten back her body, but figured if your dealing with the man himself, I'm sure he would not have let Liz suffer long.

I was right.

Thank you for the epilogue, that resolved many things I had questions about.

Mike and Liz had a rich life together.

Hugs

So WTFly good!

I just happened across this story/author after having not read much for the past couple years or so and DAAAAmn. I feel so totally amazed. I haven't enjoyed reading this much since being blown away by Hypatia posting the Oracle and co. And it sings to my soul too, it sings good stuff.

Still good.

I just finished rereading it, and it is still wonderful. I especially like and appreciate the themes of redemption, justice, and perseverance.

OMFG!

I'm sorry if i cuss, but bloody hells Maeryn! i have been enraptured for well over 15 hours straight... well some small pauses. this could have been a wonderful survival story without the Magic and angels and devils. but with those elements it was stunningly fluid, it demanded to be read...really read and appreciated. I can think of few commercial novels on the market that have held my attention so thoroughly as YMIFE. I honestly don't know how to thank you, except by saying you make me want to be a better writer.
Thank you for the joy and tears,
Diana

A very satisfying read

That was such a terrific story. Thank you so much.

Great story

I am glad I found this now not only did I find a great story but I had almost no wait on the cliffhangers and those would have been a bad distraction. Now I have to go and browse through the rest of your work I can find.

Tears

This ending has me in tears and I am so glad that it was a somewhat happy ending, being marred somewhat by the fact mike was around the same age as Phil and sharon and still around. Leaving Liz alone was kind of cruel, it will take her a while to rejoin him and I feel it would have been much happier if they both were still around, otherwise this was a great story. Still dwelling on how it wasn’t a perfect happy ending and near tears 3 hours later.

hugs :)
Michelle SidheElf Amaianna

I find myself tearing up a

I find myself tearing up a bit at the closing line as in many ways I feel the same about my Lady Love Miz Cindy who's been gone from this life a bit over two years now. I will be with her again sooner or later ... but with her I will be!

I am also sad that this is the last one in the BCTS list of your truly wonderful work. Like other of my fave authors, I will wait a bit and read again. One of the bennies of having a chronologically challenged memory device is that one can read a lovely story such as this, wait a bit and then read it again with more excitement and wonder than the first go-around.

Thank you so very much - Robert

I have plans

The next week or so, I'll be putting in entries for the competition (you should try. Very cathartic, writing down your thoughts and feelings) then I have about four decent sized works I've either finished or finalised, including one which I posted a taster earlier this year. I also have one 200,000 word epic that has been approaching it's end for a while now. I plan to finish them and release them as serials this year.

Maeryn Lamonte, the girl inside