The Longest Night Metal twisting-- glass breaking-- pin prick lights-- pain-- loud noises. *** Michael awoke in a panic. “Honey,” His fiancée aroused from his start wakening, “Is everything alright?“ And he suddenly remembered where he was. The wedding was only three months away, and the stress had been giving him strange nightmares. “Everything is fine,” he said and laid his head back on his pillow. *** “Welcome to The Nook, how may help you today?” Michael hadn’t heard the customer come in, but the sound of Madeline’s voice brought him back to reality. He usually spent Saturday afternoons sitting in her used book shop, and today he had been reading The Illustrated Man. “I’m just browsing, thank you,” the young woman answered. Michael returned to his book and tried to remember where he left off. He found his place and finished the page. “Ray Bradbury is my favorite,” he looked up again to see the woman running her fingers across the spines of the old books. “My fiancée said I should it read it,” he smiled as he turned the page. “Your fiancée has good taste,” she took a Eudora Welty from the shelf and pulled up a chair next to Michael. “Yes she does,” he looked up and briefly met Madeline’s eyes from across the room. They shared a short smile which was promptly interrupted by another customer. He watched her for another moment before escaping back into the pages. *** The rushing of air-- a repetitious beeping-- inaudible murmur. *** The nightmares were constant. He could not sit alone for even a short time before he dozed off and the hauntings flooded in. He jerked up in his chair where a computer screen beckoned him to finish his report for the day, but he could not recall what he had been reporting. After a quick read through, he hurriedly finished careful not to doze off again. He had been out for a while and he was glad he had been working from his home. Once his report had been completed, he rushed to the grocery store before it closed. He grabbed the essentials and knew he could come back later for everything else. On his way out of the store he heard a familiar voice, “It’s Michael, isn’t it?” He turned to see the woman from the bookstore. “That’s correct, but I don’t recall yours. In fact, I don’t remember telling you mine,” Michael felt slightly uncomfortable at the intrusion. Sensing the awkwardness, the woman said apologetically, “Madeline told me your name was Michael. A friend of mine told me about her store, so I went to check it out. After you left we had a nice chat and your name came up.” She shifted her plastic “Thank You” bag into her left hand and extended her right, “My name is Gwyneth.” He took her hand and the uneasiness seemed to fade. *** “Michael, I love you so much. Why can’t you just talk to me?” *** “Did you have another bad dream?” Madeline held Michael’s sweaty arms as he came to. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that. It makes me feel twelve,” he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “This one was different. I heard her voice. I saw her face.” “Who’s face?” she asked as she switched her lamp on. Michael was hesitant to answer, embarrassed that it wasn’t hers, “Gwyneth’s”. “From the bookstore?” she said inquisitively. “You don’t even know her, do you?” “Of course not. I talked to her once at the bookstore, and I ran into her again at the grocery store last week,” his voice seemed a little too defensive. He had never thought of Gwyneth outside of the two occasions, but he couldn’t help to be affected by his dream. “We only have two months before our wedding,” Madeline was not confident in his answer. “It is too late for you to be having cold feet.” “It was just a dream,” he reached over her and turned the lamp off and tried to fall back asleep. He kept telling himself it was only a dream, but he remained unconvinced. *** Michael sat in a pew at the church he was to married in the next day. He knew this was the way his life was supposed to be, but he still wondered. “Come here often?” as if a sign from God, Gwyneth appeared in the pew behind Michael. “How did the rehearsal go?” “It went well,” he answered. He looked toward the alter at the end of the aisle, but he could only picture himself and Gwyneth together. “You don’t sound convinced,” she kidded. “Who are you?” Michael turned toward her. “Ever since I met you, my life has changed. I love Madeline, but I cannot marry her tomorrow.” “Is that my fault?” she didn’t sound angry, but she was generally concerned. “Of course it’s your fault!” his lash startled them both. “No, it is my own fault. I have been having my nightmares since before I met you.” He turned back into his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. She moved to the seat next him and took him by the arms, “What nightmares?” His face flushed from embarrassment, but he felt safe with her, “I have been having dreams for a little more than three months. In the dreams I see you, but you are in distress. You are in pain because I cannot be with you. Something is wrong with me, but for the life of me I cannot figure out why.” “Nothing is wrong with you,” she took his face in her hands to look him in his eyes. “You are under a lot of stress. Anyone should understand what you are going through.” “My reality is falling apart. Sometimes, the dreams feel more real than this life,” he took her hand and looked back into her eyes. “Except for when I am with you.” The sound of a door closing came from behind the two, catching them both off guard. “Michael Honey, when are coming h-” Madeline’s voice trailed off as she saw two of them holding hands. At the sight, she turned and ran out the church’s back door. “I have to go,” Michael said, jumping to his feet. “No, you don’t,” Gwyneth held fast to his hand. “You have a choice.” “Tomorrow, she will be my wife. I have to go to her,” he broke her grip and started for the door. “You said yourself that you cannot marry her tomorrow,” he stopped at the door with his hand on the knob. “I don’t even know you,” he turned the handle and started to open the door. “You’re wrong, Michael,” a sharp pain struck him in the head, and he dropped to his knees. “You know me better than you think.” *** “Please wake up, Michael.” Metal twisting-- glass breaking-- pin prick lights-- pain-- loud noises. “I love you so much, please just talk to me.” The rushing of air-- a repetitious beeping-- inaudible murmur. “I don’t know what I will do if you don’t make it back to me.” *** The hospital room was a drab gray, and the only light came from a florescent ceiling light. A woman sat hovering above the motionless man on the bed. Her tears had drained her lashes of their mascara, and her stomach was empty from the hours of staying by her husband’s side. A knock at the door took her attention away from the bed as a doctor arrived for a checkup. She got to greet the doctor, but the bed ridden man reached out to touch her arm. “Gwyneth,” the sound was nearly incomprehensible, but it not misunderstood. “My God! Michael, you’re awake,” Gwyneth began to sob as she grabbed hold of Michael’s hand. The doctor quickly arrived at the bedside and began checking the vital signs, but Gwyneth ignored him as her husband slowly became himself again. *** “She died only minutes before you woke up,” The drive home was quiet, but Gwyneth needed to let Michael know about his automobile accident. “She was home visiting family, and you picked her up from the airport. You two have always been close friends. I kinda liked her too.” Michael listened as his wife choked to get the words out, “The drunk driver blindsided your car. He died instantly. You and Madeline were in critical condition for days before you both fell into comas. You were under for nearly two days.” Michael sat in quite thought during the ride home. He was grateful to be alive, but the thought of Madeline running out the church door would haunt him the rest of his days. | 
