All Souls Requiem
Sequel to
Halloween Romance
The Conclusion of the First Arc of the Heather Delilah Soeksen

Saint Christina the Astonishing Anglican Church was located on a barren hill that overlooked the graveyard. The church had been built of white stone and had been graced with a black slate roof. The church had been built in a style popular with Southern American Anglican's called 'Celtic Anglican'. The church seemed oddly out of place, like it had been lifted straight from the rustic Irish countryside and transported here to rural Mississippi by some magical means.

This church that Gwendoline Potter attended and had invited me to attend. The day was 'All Souls Day' and a day set aside by the early church fathers to remember those who had passed away. It was also a time to cherish the memories of those who you loved and to honor their lives. And in a way, in a very twisted way it was a way to celebrate me being reborn. I knew at this point the old me had passed away and a new me had been born. Somehow by encountering the phantom bride. I had transformed myself from a boy to a girl. Either through magical or supernatural means or by simply willing it. The transformation was still ongoing. And right now it felt more mental than physical. But with each second that passed by, I could feel what remained of my masculinity slipping through my fingers like the grains of sand in an hourglass.

All of these thoughts swirled through my head as Gwendoline and I slowly made our way down the cobblestone paved path that snaked its way through the graveyard and led up to the stone steps of the stone church. The bells of the church, there were three and big, were ringing  away. Their deep, brass voices sounded among the graves and echoed in the nearby woodland.

The chimes seemed to echo through the graves. As we neared the church I noticed dozens and dozens of people seemed to be gathering in front of the blood red door. All of them like Gwendoline and I were both dressed in black, fitting the day. The men wore black suits with black ties and black dress shoes, the women wore black dresses, with black shoes and were veiled in black silken drabs.

Gwendoline had explained to me before we left her cottage that All Souls Day was one of the most somber of high holy days. And with that in mind. I was told to wear a modest black dress. As black is traditionally seen as the color of mourning and that was the whole idea behind All Souls Day. Mourning for those who had passed away and remembering that one day, you too will cease to breathe and will join that invisible cloud of saints that surround the living, cheering them on as they run the race of life. All of that just twisted my already twisted mind.

It took us several minutes to finally reach the gathered crowd of people. It seemed the church was locked tighter than the treasure chest and Father Percy had yet to arrive. To say I was crossed was an understatement. I'd never enjoyed going to church, and I hated the fact that Gwendoline had seen it fit to shake me awake after a night of dancing the night away. She really could have left me back at the cottage and allowed me to sleep the morning away.

No, she had seen fit to first yank the collection of covers and blankets I'd piled on top of me, onto the cold stone floor of the cottage. Then she had the audacity to snatch the nest of soft, feather pillows from under my head and all but forced me from the warmth and comfort of my bedroom, down the long hallway to the shower. Once I was in the bathroom she had filled the tube with warm water and had ordered me to wash every square inch of my body, paying special attention to ear behind my ears since according to her I smelled 'Musky' and she dared me to forget to wash and condition my hair on pain of marching me down to the local salon to have it all cut off.

Once that was done, she had marched me back to the bedroom, told me to towel off and then she had coated every inch of my body with some kind of sweet smelling bathing powder. She then told me to squeeze myself into a small, formal black dress that looked like something Wednesday Addams would wear. In fact I felt like Wednesday Addams at that very moment. The only difference was my hair was golden blonde instead of coal black like her. And I wore my hair down, while she often wore her hair in two neat braided pigtails.

“Now daughter.” She said as she pushed open the wooden red door of the church. “When you enter into the church, I want you to make a low, reverent bow toward the crucifix and genuflect toward the Tabernacle. Then I want you to make the sign of the cross and repeat this prayer to yourself. 'In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen'.” She whispered into my ear as drew closer to me.

“You bow before the crucifix to show reverence to it. And you genuflect toward the Tabernacle to show respect for the consecrated elements housed there. Also that prayer and your faith in that prayer will help keep her at bay for a little while and buy us some time. And right now we need all the time we can get.” Gwendoline said with a deep sigh.

“Yes ma'am.” I said as I reached down and pulled open the brass handles of the door. A sudden onrush of warm air slapped me right square in the face. The church it seemed was crowded with people, all dressed like Gwendoline and I in solid black. The women wore black dresses and the men wore black woolen suits.

Taking a deep breath I nodded my head and followed closely behind Gwendoline who ushered me into the empty pew. Then I followed along with her as she dropped down to her knees, touched her forehead and then her chest with her fingers and I repeated after her as she said in a clear, commanding tone of voice. “In the name of Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

As as soon as we finished the wooden doors of the church opened again and the service started.

The Mass was, I was later told, a “High Church Mass” clouds of gray incense floated above our heads to the rafters of the church. The prayers were often chanted in Latin, and the Psalms were sung. It was like something from the High Middle Ages, something from a different time or place. I'd been raised in the Methodist tradition of the church and never before had I ever seen anything like this. As the service progressed. I felt something starting to leave me, I felt two half's starting to fuse together.

In my mind it was like two halves of the Yin and Yang symbol were finally starting to fuse together and when they did something or somebody was being pushed out. I heard them screaming, the screaming came from inside my head. I heard them shouting at the top of their lungs that they did not want to go. That my soul was theirs, that I'd given them my soul when I'd trespassed into the graveyard a few nights ago. That they were going to drag me to hell. That they had laid claim to my body.

Then inside my head there came a blazing message. It was like somebody had lit up a huge neon sign that read. “Mark 5:9” and under it. The following short message. “And he asked him, what is thy name? And he answered, saying, my name is Legion: for we are many”.

And then I felt like somebody had slapped me right upside the head. Because my head started to spin around or it felt like it was spinning around.

nd then it was over. I must have spaced out because Gwendoline was looking over at me. She nodded her head and pointed toward a line that was forming. I must have looked confused, because Gwendoline moved to my side and in a motherly tone of voice whispered to me.

“There about to take communion.” She said as she gently pushed me into the line. “When you go near the communion rail, bend down and place one hand under the other and when the priest offers you the host. Say 'Amen' and when the minister offers you the cup, just say 'Amen'. Trust me, you'll feel better after you do.” She said as she gently guided me up toward the communion rail.

An unexplained feeling of trepidation came over me as I watched the priest and the lay minister give communion to each person. It was like I was about to throw up, I started to tremble a little. My heart started to race and my breathing became deeper and the palms of my hands started to sweat a little. Finally the priest stood over me and in a loud, clear tone of voice said to me.

“This is the body of our Lord.” He said as he pressed the wafer down into my open hand. “Take, and eat, so thy soul shall be healed. And thy will hunger no more.” He then moved to the next person.
For a long minute I peered at the wafer as if it was a pill that would end my life. Then taking a deep breath I forced the wafer down my throat and forced myself to swallow it. It burned, it really burned going down, then much to my amazement a sense of relief flooded over me. Like something heavy had been lifted from my shoulders.

Then the lay minster walked up to me. The wine inside the goblet was so strong that the fumes almost knocked me down. I think I got a little tipsy from just smelling it. The minister offered the goblet and in a soothing tone of voice said.

“This is the blood of our Lord.” He said as he offered the goblet to me. “Take, and drink, so thy soul shall be healed. And thy will thirst no more.” He said as he waited for me to take a sip.

I closed my eyes and reached out. I then tipped the goblet toward me and took a small sip of the wine. The wine tasted fruity and a bit sour. I found myself coughing a little. I'd been raised Methodist mostly and the few times I'd taken communion down at local Methodist church I'd only been given grape juice, the fact that I'd been given real wine seemed the most amazing thing to me. And well the wine washed down the few crumbles that lingered at the back of my throat.

And then it was over. That screaming voice had fallen silent. Or had it been silenced by some holy divine powers? I'm not sure. But as I slowly rose up from the cushion and bowed once more the cross. I felt a little cleaner. A little better, and oddly enough like I was ready to face what the future held. And so with that being done. I walked over and rejoined Gwendoline who was waiting for me. And so was another life. I knew my old life was coming to an end. And that somehow I'd been reborn.

I can't explain it, but I knew from now on, I would be known as Heather Delilah Soeksen. And my new birthday would be All Soul's Day.. whenever All Soul's fell, I would celebrate my birthday. Because, in a weird way, I'd been reborn today.