By Zack Lester

John sat staring out the office window, trying to remember why he agreed to go to counseling

in the first place. No matter how many times he told the story, it didn't help ease his mind. He just

wanted to move on but his dream wouldn't let him. He tried for a while, in vain, to convince his wife

Rebecca that the intensification of his dream was all due to stress, but no matter what fabrication he

told; they both knew the underlining cause of his anxiety.

"Did you have the dream again last night?" Dr. Lewis said as she studied John sitting across from

her.

"Of course I did. I have the same dream every night." He said with a laugh, turning his blood

shot eyes back to meet her gaze.

"Why don't you tell me what happens in your dream again."

"What does it matter? It won't help, nothing ever changes."

"Listen, we've been meeting for over three months now. I can't help you if you won't let me."

"No one can help me."

"Humor me."

"Fine." John said releasing a frustrated sigh. "It's like I'm six all over again when my dad died.

We just moved to the old farm house and dad took me for a walk along the fence line to this old tree, an

Oak I think. Dad had this idea that one day he'd hang a swing from it for me. Anyway, I was having a

hard time with the move. I missed my friends from the city and I couldn't understand why he had to

move so abruptly."

"What happened next?"

"Well I was furious. I remember yelling at him about how he and mom were ruining my life;

about how much I hated them. You know, the typical ‘kid mad at their parents' stuff. I knew I was about

to cry, so I ran. I climbed the old wooden fence and hid in the corn stalks. I heard my dad calling my

name, but I just wanted to get away from him. I would have kept right on running if I hadn't heard his

scream."

"Do you remember what you saw?" Dr. Lewis said in between jotting down notes in her memo

pad.

"Of course, I'll never forget it. It's the thing that haunts me every night. Dad was on the ground

beneath the tree like he tripped over a root and there was a man standing over him. The man was

wearing a black trench coat, a black wide brimmed hat, and these round mirror sun glasses. I've never

seen anything like them. It's like someone had taken the glass out of a mirror and tinted them black, but

what really struck me was that they didn't reflect light. It's almost like they absorbed light." John said as

an uncontrollable shiver spread across his body.

"I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to relive this. We can take a break if you'd like."

"No, I've already started now." He said, running his hand through his shaggy blonde hair. "I

couldn't make out everything they were saying but I knew it wasn't good. I could tell by the look on my

dad's face. Pure fear and a look I can only describe as pleading. The man said something about time

being up and how my dad had to pay his part of the deal, whatever that meant. I have no idea how dad

knew where I was, but he looked me right in the eyes, slightly shook his head, and mouthed what looked

like ‘I'm sorry. I love you.' Next thing I knew the man in the trench coat raised his hand towards my dad,

and these little balls of light rose out of my dad's chest and floated into his hand. They almost looked

like lightning bugs, but they were constant, leaving soft light trails behind them. That's the point where I

wake up screaming my dad's name."

"And you say this really happened when you were six?" Dr. Lewis said, biting her pen.

"Yeah, I must have made a noise because the man, if you can call him that, turned his head in

my direction, so I dove behind the fence post I was standing beside. By the time I was brave enough to

look again, the trench coat guy was gone."

"What happened after that?"

"When my father and I didn't came back to the house, my mother called 911. They found me

passed out lying next to my father's body. The EMT said that dad died of a heart attack."

"Did you tell the police what happened?"

"Yeah, they thought I was just some dumb kid who couldn't process his father's death."

"What do you think? Do you think they were right?" Dr. Lewis said, crossing her legs to create a

better writing surface.

"Honestly, most days I do. I've replayed everything in my mind probably more than a thousand

times and it still doesn't seem possible." John said returning his gaze towards the window. "I've looked

everywhere I can think of on the Internet and I still haven't found the man in the trench coat. I've got to

be crazy right?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. It only matters what you think about your situation and

yourself."

"Thanks for that doc. That's so helpful." John said sarcastically pulling his ringing phone from his

pocket. "It's my mother-in-law. Excuse me for a second."

"Hey Amanda, how are you? WHAT! I'll be right there." John said franticly into his phone, as he

stood, almost knocking his chair over.

"My wife had to be rushed to the Emergency Room. I've got to go!" he said as he raced to the

door.

Running towards the stair case, John sprinted down the stairs until he got to his car in the

parking lot. Without a moment of hesitation, he started his car and raced to the hospital. Stopping his

car next to the Emergency Room patient drop off, he bounded out the driver side door of his vehicle,

and through the glass sliding doors of the hospital where his mother-in-law was waiting for him, a blood

soaked towel in her hands.

"What happened, Amanda?" John screeched at his mother-in-law.

"I don't know. She came over to visit me and everything was fine. We were about to eat lunch

when Becky started bleeding. And then she almost passed out. I didn't know what else to do. I grabbed a

towel, helped her to my car, and rushed right here. I called you as soon as I got a chance. They took her

right into surgery." Amanda said, tears streaming down her face.

"Is she ok? What about the baby?"

"I don't know. Every time I ask, all they say is that they are working as hard as they can. There's

a waiting room but I wanted to wait for you."

"Ok, let's go. Hopefully they'll know something by the time we get there."

The next few hours slowed to a crawl while they waited for news. John felt like he had been

plunged into a pool filled with molasses. He passed the time rotating between sitting and pacing the

small waiting room, praying that everything would be ok. That he would have the opportunity to take his

wife and newly born child home with him. He prayed for a miracle but as the moments ticked by, that

possibility seemed less and less likely.

"Excuse me sir. Are you Mr. Thomas?" the doctor said as he walked slowly towards John.

"Yes. I'm John Thomas. Rebecca is my wife."

"The surgeons were able to stop the bleeding but I'm afraid your wife and son might not make

it. I am so sorry. You will be able to see your family shortly, as soon as they are out of surgery."

"What? This can't be happening." John said as he collapsed into a chair in the empty waiting

room and buried his face in his hands.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to get someone?" an empathetic male voice standing in front of

John said.

"No, I'm alright. I just got some awful news."

"About your wife and newly born son?" the stranger said.

"Yeah, do you have any idea when I can see them doctor?" John said, freezing in place, as his

eyes fixed onto two black mirror lenses staring back at him.

"I'm afraid not." The man said, a cold and deadly smile spreading across his lips.

"You!" John said falling out of his chair to the floor. "You aren't real."

"More real than you would believe."

"Get out of here before I call security!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you? I can help you the same way I helped your father nine months

before you were born. I can save your wife and son. They'll never have to know. How much is that worth

to you?"

"Everything in the world." John said regaining his composure and balance.

"Would you make the same sacrifice for your family that your father made for you?"

"Absolutely!"

"Then let's make a deal." The stranger said extending his hand to John, the ice cold smile

returning to his lips.

End