Dear Diary--A Journal From Purgatory, Patrick Sean Lee [thriller novels to read TXT] 📗

Purgatorio


March 6

Dear Diary,

We ascended the staircase toward the first landing for two entire days, and what an unusual kingdom we have finally entered!

Farther down that incredibly wide, misty hallway I’m sure there are other roads leading to…rooms? Did we enter only the first of many, many continent-sized rooms? We shall discover the answer to that eventually in the eternity allotted us. Ahead of us on the landing we noticed a path leading off to the left, and far beyond that, another going right. We’ll visit them all, perhaps.

Teresa held my arm tightly as we cleared the vaporous entrance this morning, and both of us stopped dead in our tracks, not anxious to proceed once the panorama made itself visible a few hundred yards in. To either side of us there were at first low cliffs of rocks and boulders, with no vegetation of any sort growing around them. Well, that is not surprising. What flora could possibly survive the gnashing of those rocks? You see, the boulders moved constantly; back and forth against one another as though they were either surprised by the sudden appearance of two travelers, or trying to work themselves free of the soil that bound them. Not in Hell—certainly never on Earth—has the mineral landscape seemed to possess life. But then this is neither Earth nor Hell. My guess is, since the staircase begins at the edge of that doomed kingdom and extends infinitely upward—toward Heaven???—these landings and rooms must be…well, Purgatory. That’s what I’ll call them anyway.

We hurried out of the mist through the narrow passage, not anxious to find out whether the boulders were alive or dead; desiring to greet us, or tumble themselves down on top of us. When at last the cliffs had shrunk to the point where we could see over and beyond them to the east and west, a clear line to the vast horizon unfolded. Teresa brought her hands to her mouth, whereas my own mouth simply fell agape to my waist. Not in photos or paintings or the most imaginatively produced movies had I ever seen a sight so rich, strange, and wondrous.

The sky itself was deep azure, punctuated with thousands of islands of light magenta and brilliant viridian, these bordered in soft, melting ivory. The azure swept along the horizon in the shape of a scythe or half-moon. Closer toward us and reaching far above our heads, back in the direction we’d come from, the blue waved into a palette of colors that would have made Kandinsky drool. In the azure I could see sparkling pinpoints. Stars. It hit me that perhaps the room we had entered had catapulted us in some unknowing way into another dimension or universe.

Below us, though, a vista equally remarkable spread out. After several moments I let my eyes fall to the earth…or the, the…What does one call the earth here? The Purgatory? Death is so strange.

Just a moment.

Teresa says the ground is still the earth, and so it will be.

The earth seemed to reflect the light of a sun; a sun that wasn’t evident anywhere above. A canopy more lush and thick than the disappearing rain forests of old Brazil rolled like waves on a solid green sea. To our left, many miles in the distance, a clearing had been carved in the midst of it. Inside the perimeter, low buildings or houses grew in height as my eyes followed them inward toward the center. A metropolis, stretching…heavenward. I thought immediately of the City of the Enlightened back in Hell. But, no. There was no moat encircling it, no drawbridge, and certainly inside its boundaries there would be no Lucifer.
Or could it be possible he is allowed to wander through this kingdom as well? Perhaps even rule it?

I sensed no fear hanging over the city, though, and so we decided to approach it; to see whether we might find our place in it for a millennium or two.

We traveled down the road, entering into the immense forest in great excitement, walking for many hours, or years, or…Time. It means nothing, now. We walked until we tired. And so, drawn closely together—there is no physical need for this; we are comfortable and warm in this land—we have decided to rest. To sleep together. Tomorrow we will search the trees and marvelous shrubs for fruits and berries and nuts, if they grow here, and then we will resume our journey on full stomachs.

Goodnight, faithful friend.


Stardate 6578.3

Well, it could be, Diary!

I love this kingdom already. It calms me. Suits me. It might well be home for us.

And so we rested together last night, nestled between a pair of tree roots on a mattress—I must laugh at that. I remember when—yes, on a mattress of soft, thick, amber-colored grass.

Lying there with our backs against the upswelling of the tree trunk, exhaustion finally set in. We fell asleep.

We awakened this morning, refreshed, to a chorus of enchanting music played by the morning breeze on the thick tangle of branches and leaves of these massive trees. It descended, and every note seemed almost visible. Bows across strings. Woodwinds and tympani. An orchestra with musicians all playing something different, yet in perfect harmony and cadence. We had not gone far into the peaceful forest in our journey yesterday, and it seemed this morning that we stood just outside the concert hall, hearing the notes and chords pushed by a breeze downward into our path. Teresa remarked that this is the first sign there is no strife, brutality, or anxiety here, and that only good awaits us.

We ate the fruits…we hope they are fruits, not some poisonous berries…and fist-sized nuts that grow in profusion on the smaller trees and bushes covering the floor only a few yards off the path we are on, and then drank from a stream that meandered through the area. Afterward, we rejoined the path and began our journey toward the city again.

The air was delightfully warm. We decided to shed our garments and sling them over our backs, and so we did. The sensation of wind on my bare skin was not at all unlike what I remembered it being when I was alive. A sudden urge to find a lake and dive in leapt into my mind, but I didn’t vocalize it. I’ve no doubt we’ll find one in our travels.

Teresa’s wounds and lash-marks have all but healed completely, I noticed, and her skin tone has deepened to a healthy, even, tannish hue. Perhaps due to the water here, or the fruits and berries. I don’t know.

Somewhat farther down the road:

“Terence?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the story of Purgatory?”

“Yes. I should think everyone does.”

“You’re so naive. Why would you assume that?”

“Because I know the story.”

“Hmm…This place is nothing at all like the one Dante described.”

“So far. But then, neither was Hell.”

“What do you mean ‘so far’?”

“We saw a city, but we didn’t see inside it. Who knows what goes on there?”

Teresa stopped after I’d said that. She glanced back the way we’d come, and then over to me.

“What do you think goes on in there?”

“I don’t know. I guess that’s why were going…to find out.”

“I don’t know if I want to go.”

I remember looking at her for a long, long moment; studying her face, trying to discover a hint of surrender. Oh, all right—how silly of me. Let’s go.

But no.

But I am not her husband or her keeper…

“Fine, then. Stay here. You’re free to do whatever you like.”

I knew she'd follow. I turned and continued on alone. I walked without looking back for…an hour? Two? Down a gently sloping hill; two turns, up another hill, confident she was moping ten or twenty paces behind me.

She was not.

I turned, and when I realized she was not with me, I sighed in exasperation. I retraced my steps on the path, calling her name more often the farther back I went.

That was two nights ago.


March 10

Dear Diary,

I’ll kill her.

No I won’t. I’ll just throttle her.

No I won’t.

I’m frightened. Teresa has disappeared, and though I believe this Purgatory holds no dangers…no real

dangers…I am sick with worry. I am not her father, her keeper, but maybe I am her husband. Whatever, whichever, I know that I love her. She is so pig-headed.

I’ll murder her…once I know she’s safe. Safe from what in this beautiful place?

What frightened her? We’d survived Hell and Lucifer. What could possibly be here? Why did she run?

I lie in the darkness writing inside you, wondering if the words run together on the page I can barely see. Do you possess any power, Diary? Someone must help me find her. Dear God…no.

I am so empty again without her. I will not murder her; no, I will hold her in my arms until…until…

If this land frightens her so much, we’ll leave it and go to another. I don’t care which one. First, I must find Teresa.

I miss her.


March 13

Teresa would not speak to me. Oh yes, I found her. She was sitting in the crotch of a tree near the edge of the forest near the spot we entered, her gown back in place; her knees tucked to her chest.

“Why didn’t you come with me?”

Silence.

“Please come down.”

Silence.

I walked forward, stood on my tiptoes, and touched her foot. She moved it away.

“Forgive me, Teresa. Come down, please. You must be hungry. We’ll eat, and then if you want to leave this land, we will. I promise.”

She turned her head and looked down at me; the supplicant, the sinner. I smiled.

“Something here frightens me. I don’t know what or who it is, but something terrifying hangs in the air. I feel it.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m hungry.” She swung her legs out and jumped to the ground beside me, dodging the question. “Let’s gather up berries. I found a large lake a mile or two in that direction,” she said pointing behind us toward the city. “We can go there and bathe ourselves.

“Oh, Terence, maybe we should just stay here. Go no farther down the road…stay away from the city. We can build a little cottage with a door and lots of windows.