The Book of Bill Chapter One How my #life should have been It’s a strange feeling, standing at the forefront of the apocalypse. Many would look back and wonder if they were happy with the choices they had made in #life. Confident that they would be arriving at the better of the two possible locations, they may even welcome the approaching end. Then there are other people, well aware that nothing good will come to them after their demise. This is the group you see, running rampant through the streets, trying desperately to check off every last item of their improvised bucket list. Finally, you have the people who look at the coming storm and wonder to themselves if it really had to be this way, as if they think that there was something they could have done to stop all this. Luckily, for most of them, there was, in fact, nothing that they could do to prevent this outcome. Lucky bastards. I, on the other hand, had the unique and horrifying pleasure of knowing that all of this, everything that has happened, could have been prevented. BY ME. Perhaps I should explain. Some time ago, it’s impossible to say when, as the transfer between planes of existence can leave one’s sense of time distorted, but more on that later. Anyway, some time ago, back when I was alive, I was engaged to be married. Her name was Grace. She wasn’t necessarily stunningly beautiful, but she was, without a doubt, the cutest girl I have ever seen. I remember her face vividly. It was the one thing I held onto throughout all of this. She had a round pale face that glowed when she flashed a smile from behind long copper hair. Her nose was small and slightly upturned, like she had been a distant relative of a Who from the mind of Dr. Suess. Her eyes were bright green, revealing beneath them, a soul as pure and innocent as a newborn puppy. Or kitten if you’re a cat person, the point is, she was really quite adorable. She always wore sundresses and seemed to dance along the ground as she walked, moving across it as lightly as a cloud over the sky. It was as if she was so pure, that she would not press her full weight upon the ground for fear that she might disturb some minuscule microbe without the mental capacity to produce thought. The mere idea that anything would ever spoil such a likeness to perfection made my stomach curl, like tainting her would ruin the very essence of good. Her parents must have shared a similar sentiment, because they held an unflinching disdain for me ever since we announced the engagement. They may have wanted to believe that their sweet angel was as innocent as she appeared, but deep down, I think, I know, that they suspected the truth. I’ll admit, even I felt like I was committing an injustice when we made love for the first time. Like somehow, I was stealing something from the world. Just gazing upon her bare form seemed like an honor too great for me to handle. I eventually got over such sentiments. Why she chose me, I’ll never know. That’s not to say that I was some kind of un-datable monster, far from it. I was reasonably good-looking with a respectable job at the time of our first encounter. I was just so utterly…mundane. Most women I dated up to her did so purely because I was a “safe” choice for them. It wasn’t until after a few months that they realized that the safe choice was also the boring choice, at least in my case. This pattern repeated until I came to the conclusion that I was doomed to face a #life of loneliness, and disappointment. Then, in the midst of my hopelessness, something surprised me. I was not settled for, or sought for my security, but actually quite the opposite. She told me she was going to make it her goal to break me from the mold. She didn’t seek the safety in me, but was in fact determined to rip me from my own safety zone. Like the moron that I was, and still am, I was resistant at first, uncomfortable with the idea of change and unsure of the motives of this cherub-faced girl. Slowly but surely she was able to remove me from my shell and reveal that there was in fact an individual person underneath the robotic routine I had constructed to fit into society. When all my walls had been broken down and my assumed doom had morphed into hope, she asked me what I wanted to do, now that I was a free man. I asked her to marry me. The months leading up to my wedding were some of the happiest in my #life. With my new found confidence, I was able to secure a raise in my pay and was therefore able to afford a new house for her and I to live in. I made friends amongst our new neighbors and become a part of a weekly poker group where I met man named Benny, a an insurance claims adjuster with similar interests who I eventually asked to be my best man at the wedding. I made love to my fiancé almost every night without it losing even the slightest bit passion. Before we went to sleep we would lay in bed discussing baby names and our plans for the future. I had finally started living my #life to the extent that it was meant to be lived to, and it only took me thirty-two years. I asked Sonny once if he thought God had a sense of humor. Looking back at this moment of my #life, I think I can say without a shadow of a doubt that He does. Even if the following events weren’t meant to unfold as they did, I can’t help but suspect that this alternate plan was written up with a chuckle in His throat. She looked so beautiful in that dress. I as the groom, of course, was not allowed to see her until the ceremony, but I’ve looked back at her since then enough times to have every detail memorized. In Hollywood, they always depict the groom as a paranoid wreck. Panicking about losing his freedom and asking his buddies if he’s making the right decision. I had no worries, no feelings of uncertainty, and even if I did need to talk it out with my friends, my impromptu best man was too busy trying to memorize his speech to be of any use. My only real problem in the hours before the wedding was my tie. I absolutely could not figure out how to work a bow-tie. I remember becoming so frustrated with the thing that I began calling its very existence into question. It was certainly no better than a normal tie, so why was it expected to be worn at special functions? I have searched the vastness of human intelligence for an answer to this conundrum and have not been able to come up with any excusable reason. Regardless, of its useless function, I continued to wrestle with my tie, not realizing that I was, at this very moment, sealing the fate of the entire world. My best man spun into my dressing room, just as oblivious as I to the upcoming events. And when I say he “spun”, I mean he opened the door and literally did an ice skater’s turnaround on his heel, ending in a wide hand motion, similar to that of a magician saying TADAA! “Bam! What do you think? Look’n sharp, eh?” I didn’t look up to actually see him. I was too focused on the task at hand, so I just nodded and spoke in a monotone, disinterested voice. “You look great.” “I finally managed to get my best man’s speech all memorized. I’m tell’n ya, It’s gonna knock your socks off.” This time I didn’t even answer. I was sure I had finally had the tie perfectly on, but it came undone as if by some cruel twist of fate. “You uh, you need any help with that?” “It’s fine, I got it.” “Are you sure? They’re probably gonna be expecting us out there in a few minutes.” I should have just taken his help, or at least gone out to get help from someone else. To tell the truth, I actually wanted him to help me, but I had spent too much time and effort on it already. I was determined to get it done myself. “I think I’m just getting the hang of it. Why don’t you go out there and tell everyone to get ready. I’ll meet you in a second.” “Alrighty then.” He was just about to walk out of the door when he stopped and turned back toward me on his heel. Did he always spin like that? It’s just awful. And who besides Ace Ventura says “alrighty then”? I really should have put more effort into finding a best man. “So, you nervous?” I could tell, this was going to take a minute, so I stopped fiddling with my tie and turned to him. “Nervous about what? I’m not really sure why I asked him that. I knew fully well what he was referring to, as could anyone with half a brain. ‘Are you asking if I’m nervous about the food? I did get food poisoning the last time I had scallops.’ “I’m just wondering if you’re nervous about the wedding, actually being married. It’s a pretty big step.” I couldn’t believe I was actually about to have the “bro talk” with an already married man. “You’ve been married for five years. Are you telling me I’m making a mistake?’ “No, not at all. Grace is an amazing girl. I just want to make sure you’re not gonna freeze up there. I am the best man after all. It’s kind of my job.” Yes, you are the best man, a fact that I have been regretting since this conversation began. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just fine.” Boy, was I in for a surprise. “Alrighty then. Just mak’n sure. I’ll meet you up at the alter.” Finally. Peace. The last moment of true peace I would ever have. I returned to the mirror, bow-tie in hand. I was going to get this thing fixed if it was the last thing I did. I had made it look somewhat decent a few times, but this wasn’t for me. This was for her. I wasn’t going to settle for decent, so I laboriously folded and refolded until at last I had done it. Once more, I inspected myself in the mirror, admiring what had to be the most handsome image of myself I had ever seen. It was all perfect. This was how my #life was supposed to be. Just before exiting the room, I caught something in the corner of my eye. I turned back at the reflection in the mirror where I thought I had seen the culprit, but saw nothing there. That was odd I thought, turning back to the door. I reached out grab the handle, feeling that it was ice cold. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I could feel an overwhelming fear encompass me like a thick fog. When I was a small child, maybe nine or ten, I thought I saw a ghost. I am now sure without a shadow of a doubt that I did in fact see something, even if it wasn’t a ghost, but at that age, I wasn’t aware of the classification of spirits. I had been taking a basket of laundry upstairs to my room when I saw it standing there in the hallway, in plain sight. The only way I can accurately describe it is to compare it to what it was the opposite of, as I have never seen any earthly thing in which I can compare it to. It was like a silhouette of a man, made entirely of light, casting light in every direction, on every surface, except instead of light, it was complete and utter darkness. I guess the closest real comparison I can give would be what scientists assume a black hole looks like. Instead of absorbing all light, however, it seemed to actually cast darkness, as if that was a physical thing. Looking into this shadow figure was one of the most terrifying moments of my #life, and my reaction to it was an appropriate one. Even though the spirit vanished the instant I laid my eyes on it, I still felt the need to toss my laundry basket where it had been standing and run back down the stairs, screaming at the top of my lungs. My parents had convinced me that what I saw was simply my own shadow, and that my mind ad been playing tricks on me, but I cannot stress enough that my reaction to the sighting was the most appropriate one I could have given at the time. Being much older, and truly believing what my parents had told me as a child, I was quick to dismiss my feelings of dread as normal, pre-wedding jitters. What I should have done at this very moment was fling the door open and run as fast as I could, screaming all the while, just as I had done as a child. What I should not have done was release the door handle and turn around to investigate what I had seen in the mirror again. In my adult mind, I had assumed that someone had snuck into my room and was now hiding, probably a child, exploring around. That’s what I had to have seen in the corner of my eye and that had to be the presence I felt looking at me within the room. As I turned around, however, a brief moment occurred in which I allowed my mind to wonder, what if? It was such a provocative thought, even for such a small amount of time, that it broke down all my barriers I had built up in my maturity and placed me back in that moment as a nine or ten year old boy staring in sheer horror at something my mind could not comprehend. It is only in these moments, in which all doubts and assumptions about the supernatural are set aside that we can process the complete bat-shit lunacy that exists in the world. We may be able to catch a glimpse of these things sometimes, but to see one in its entirety is a rare and horrible event. The reason our minds do not process these images is for our own protection. If we honestly could see into the alternate planes of existence, I have no doubt that most people would gouge their own eyes out to prevent their brains from exploding out of their face. Anyway, my barriers were down for this tiny moment and I turned to face the most horrible thing I had ever seen in my entire #life The shadow man didn’t even come close to this. What I stared at now was a beast of indescribable evil, whose outer appearance was contrived only to illustrate that fact. It had blue and purple skin covered by Crayola red hair. It’s jaw jutted out of its face to reveal its entire bottom row of brown and black teeth. They were not this color by nature, but had the remnants of ancient decaying flesh draped across them. It had two beady eyes, blacker than the human eye is able to normally register. Its shoulders encompassed its neck, if it even had one. Its arms were hulking and loomed forward with its fists planted firmly on the ground, like a gorilla. Its ribs were hairless, showing off skin as if it had been seared without being able to be burned. The monster, even on its fours towered over me. On two legs, I imagined it would stand a good twelve feet tall. It was the essence of terribleness, and it was only inches from my face. I could not gather the breath required to scream. I couldn’t do anything, but the true horror came the moment this beast realized that I could see it just as well as it could see me. It was almost as surprised as I was by this fact, but did not display a trace of fear as I now epitomized. Instead, a look came across its face that actually scared me out of my immobilization. It was a look that said Finally. As if the creature had been waiting an eternity for this moment, the grin that stretched across its face was worse than its previous scowl. It lifted one of its tree trunk arms and snatched me from the ground, holding me high to inspect me. Its brow furled as if to say, I suppose this will have to do. As I hung there in the monster’s grasp, one thought took over my mind. Her. This was her day. We were going to get married and spend the rest of our lives happily together. I would be damned if I was going to let this disgusting, mongrel ruin that for her. This was not how I was going to die. With every bit of strength I could muster, I reached my dangling leg back and brought it full-force to the beast’s jaw. It let go of me instantly. This is it, I thought. I’m fighting a horrendous hell-creature and I am going to prevail! It reached back out to grab me once more, but I ducked to the side of the room, circling it. I don’t know why I thought this would help. Perhaps I was thinking of grabbing its tail and spinning it around like Mario does to Bowser. Nevertheless, I continued circling. I was fueled by my love and my will to live. I pictured her in my head, her perfect smile. I would not let the smile falter. The monster struck out its arm with lightning speed and propelled me into the back wall. At least three of my ribs had to be broken, but I didn’t care. I had landed next to a table where I had previously been eating a piece of sample cake I had saved when we went shopping for the wedding cake. On the table was a knife, one of those large cake-serving knives. I took it up and lunged at the beast. I had escaped his grasp, he hit me next to the knife, and now I was flying through the air with my weapon ready to penetrate through its purple hide. Every moment of this battle had a purpose and it would culminate in my victory over this beast. Have you ever been so sure of something only to be proven so, so wrong? It fucking sucks. Before I could even bring my arm down, the monster had taken its enormous talons and pierced through my chest with four of them. Four giant holes, in my chest. I was actually hanging in the air, impaled on this creature’s hand. I had completely and utterly failed and as I slipped into darkness, I couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck?