night vision

hasta que la morte nos separe / until death do us part. pablo perez | 35 | manager of juan’s general store | medium

[pablosperez-blog]

Teo meekly smiles, not pushing further with his declaration of protection. The death of Zach’s reincarnations means he fades until the next one comes around. It was only wise for him to keep them safe for him to remain, not knowing if he would resurface the next time around. The alarmed look shot at him nonetheless amuses him. It reminds him of Pablo’s childhood before that pesky rosary blocked him out. He observes the man in front of him with a newfound curiosity. He just realized that this is probably the first time he is directly interacting with Zach’s soul. He almost shows a crooked smile, before he realizes something is wrong with Pablo. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He reaches out instinctively, only to retreat his hand. Staring at his own palm, he is surprised by his own inhibition. Granted, he spent the better part of his afterlife floating weightlessly around Zach repeating lives. He couldn’t talk to the reincarnations. He couldn’t touch them. But now finally facing the man himself, he suddenly forgot how to act. In confusion, he lets Pablo walks past him, but soon follows the man. “You look like you saw a ghost,” he laughs in a rather inappropriate timing. But all jokes aside, he does think Pablo realized something– or remembered something. “You saw something, did you not?” questions him.

AS THE MAN reaches towards him, Pablo staggers back, scrambling for purchase against the streetlight. His eyes are closed yet everything seems overwhelmingly bright, images flashing before him at once, striking in their clarity but directionless in their meaning. He’s nearly trembling when he comes to, the pounding in his head matching the rhythm of his racing heart. “I’m fine,” Pablo finally chokes out belatedly, before rushing off. His steps are lumbering, the adrenaline making its way out of his body, stripping him of agility as it exits. He jumps when the man speaks again from behind him, thinking he’d left him back by the streetlight. Pablo likes the company even less here — they stand at the mouth of an alleyway, cloaked by shadow. “No,” Pablo laughs weakly, politely. “Certainly no ghosts.” He admonishes with a head shake before trying again to depart. The man’s words stop him again. “I — no. Just... a memory, I suppose. And a sudden headache.” Pablo tries to bite back his question, grinding his teeth, but as he turns and meets Teo’s eyes once more, he finds he cannot avoid the words. “How did you know about my rosary?” He speaks up. “Were you — did you try to take my things that night? I don’t have much. But I can try and help you.” He remembers very little of that night, adrenaline and fear making the events blur together. However, the second question makes its way out. “Or... did you help me that night?”

[pablosperez-blog]

“Nightmares?” Teo asks with a faint smile. He knows Pablo has a problem sleeping without the rosary, from all the nights he spent deadly awake watching over the haunted. “I won’t let that happen to you.” He states firmly completley ignoring the poor joke. If it was anybody else, he would have shrugged it off with his typical fake laughter. But when it comes to this man, Teo rarely jokes. He waited centuries for a chance to talk to Zach again, to get some closer in his death. He cannot risk it by letting a reincarnation of him die. “Do you?” His lips twitch as he represses his centuries-worth of resentment. While it calls for a celebration that Pablo can see him finally, Teo doesn’t know what to do with the surge of emotions he feels toward the person he has watched over for countless years. He takes a deep breath, even though he doesn’t have the lungs to fill air with anymore. He cannot screw this up. He needs to be approachable, be friendly first. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot in my mind. We most certainly have met, long before, but I doubt you’d remember it…” He chuckles hollowly. “But I was there when your rosary was broken.” He reminds Pablo.

PABLO’S EYEBROWS SUDDENLY shoot up in surprise at the man’s statement, but he shakes it off. Bad dreams aren’t reserved to solely him, after all. “Ah, occasionally.” He manages, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. These same brows furrow at Teo’s next statement, and Pablo finds himself taking a step back without thinking, arms crossing across his chest as a means of self defense. “Well... I appreciate the offer of protection, I suppose.” He murmurs, too polite to dismiss the man but too unnerved to show true enthusiasm. The question is all the more unsettling, and Pablo opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head. “You know, actually, perhaps it’s best if I go...” He feels suddenly unsafe, thinking perhaps he’s become acquainted with the wrong company. His fingers reach for the rosary he once kept firmly around his wrist as a means of protection but once again he finds nothing but bare skin. This search gives Teo enough time to speak again. The initial statement makes Pablo’s head slowly tilt once more, dark eyes probing Teo’s face for something he recognizes. But I was there the night your rosary was broken. That rings something familiar for Pablo, who can’t help but let out a soft gasp: “Oh.” His head is shaking though, even as he begins to picture it. “You were the one...” His eyes meet Teo’s and he must stop, visions of the same eyes at a different time hitting him at once, the feel of metal in his hands, blood against his palms, his own screams of anguish — then suddenly to recently, the feel of the beads being torn from his wrist. It’s enough to send Pablo staggering back, the rush of visions bringing on a sharp pain, his hands pressing to his temples, sweat running down his neck not only from the heat. “I’m sorry,” he manages weakly, balancing himself against a light pole. “You’re not — you can’t be...” his head shakes. His skin is pale and clammy, the night is darker than he likes. “I think it truly is best if I go. Excuse me.” He’s upright at once, shoulders drawn close as he attempts to pass by Teo and return home.

[pablosperez-blog]

Teo looks toward the piers, watching the dark smoke rising again. The air is filled with tension– no, it was more than that. Palpable malice, perhaps. It feels as if it crawls against his skin, even though his body has turned to dust centuries ago. Maybe he should keep an eye out. He was about to head back to the general store to check up on Pablo, when the man shows up from the corner. Their eyes met unmistakably. Shit. It hits him harder than he could ever have prepared himself for. Whoever said the eyes are the windows to the soul need a medal. Those eyes, throughout many reincarnations, whatever colors or shapes they were, still reminded him of Zach. And now Pablo is talking to him, a fleeting shadow of the past. That smile chokes him softly. “–no need.” The words fall from his tongues, ringing heavier than a church bell. “I would say it’s a dangerous night to wander around. Haven’t you heard about the arson?”

AS THE MAN shoos away his apology, Pablo can feel his own head tilt. He’s familiar somehow — the stranger in front of him. Probably just a customer, but he’s practically got those faces on file. This man is different. But how? At the gentleman’s comment about danger, Pablo shrugs. “You’re probably right. Restlessness got to me, I guess. Consider me cocky, but I feel like my house is safe. And if I’m burned, well then that’s not arson. That’s just murder.” He manages the joke despite his undeniable antsiness. Then, before he loses his momentum: “I know you.” After the stark statement, he laughs, noting how childish and abrupt he sounds. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to come across as too forward. But I can almost always place where I know someone from, and I seem to recognize you, but I’m not sure where from. We’ve met, right?”

[pablosperez-blog]

“IF GOD MEANT for life to thrive on this earth, I don’t understand why He made it so hot.” Pablo mutters to himself as he locks the door to the general store and steps out into the night air. He knows already that there’s no point in trying to sleep tonight; the visions will taunt him before he’s even dreaming. Instead, he’s taken to the streets, hoping the humid air will bring back some of the warmth in his hands, numb from the many fans and air conditioners working at full force throughout the store. He stays strictly to the right on the street, within the dominion of the streetlights, straying far from any patch of darkness. There’s an energy tonight, nagging at him despite his attempts at peace. Oh glorioso San Benito, modelo sublime de todas las virtudes, vasija pura de la gracia de Dios... Trying to ignore the sweat beading on his temples, Pablo rounds a corner, only to come to a stop when he sees a familiar face — everyone is at least nearly familiar to the man who runs the only general store in town. “Apologies,” he manages to his newfound company. “Odd night to be taking a walk, I know.” He manages a charming smile despite the anxiousness gnawing at him, ever polite.

[gruntsandpoetry]

From the snares of the Devil, deliver us, O Lord.