Confessions

I am a true servant of God.  When I died he granted me life—and a new insight into man.  They call me Phoenix for I, like the phoenix, was raised from death as a new creature.  I was given the task of judgment—a task previously reserved for God alone.
                   - From the confessions of Steven “Phoenix” Krow

The wind blew through the tight streets, chilly even for a June morning.  Phoenix walked from his white pickup truck towards Mercy Medical Clinic. He had been visiting every Tuesday for the last six months, ever since his attempted suicide.  In the early weeks of his treatment Phoenix attended group and individual counseling for the majority of his time at Mercy.  That was before they looked into his eyes.
“Good Morning, Steven.  You have a new doctor this morning.  He is a specialist they flew in from South Carolina.  They tell me he’s the best when it comes to…unusual… conditions.”

The hospital receptionist, like most people, avoided looking at him—avoided looking into his eyes.  It’s their own fault, he thinks, if the lights weren’t so dark I could wear my sunglasses in here for them.

“Good Morning, Sue.  What’s his name?  Do you know? And which room am I in today?”  Out of respect for her as well as the other five patients in the waiting room, Phoenix kept his head, his eyes, on the sign in sheet.  Reading over the names of those signed in before him.

“Dr. Oswald Grimes, if I remember correctly and you’ll be in room 7 again.  You can go ahead and go on back.  He’s already waiting for you.”  She looked deliberately at the clipboard on the back wall as she spoke. 

“Thanks a lot, Sue.  I’ll see you in a few hours.”  Phoenix spoke quietly as he walked through the swinging doors pushing them open, awkwardly, with his left hand. 
         Dr. Oswald Grimes, the name sung in Phoenix’s head.  He had been reading Dr. Grimes’ papers on human mutation caused by outside stimulus since the attempt.  It wasn’t unusual to see a new doctor and the normal sense of annoyance at having to retell his story and re-explain his eyes was overshadowed by his reverence for Dr. Grimes’ work.

I’ve never met anyone like this boy.  His eyes, so I’ve read, are pitch black.  According to his official birth certificate his eyes should be blue.  In all my work I’ve never experienced someone whose eyes actually changed due to electrical stimulation.  If my hypothesis is correct, then this boy could have something special.  He could really change the world.
         -From the Confessions of Oswald Grimes

Room 7 was just like any other room in Mercy Medical, white walls, a small shelf filled with children’s books and ancient Sports Illustrated issues.  Dr. Grimes sat in small black chair facing a short table strewn with books, files, and paper clippings.  His back was to the door and he quickly leafed through a dusty red book as Phoenix entered, eyes on the floor. 

“Dr. Grimes? I’m Steven Krow.”

“Yes Steven, come in, please.  Come in.  I was just looking for—never mind.  How are you?  What happened to your hand?”

“I’m fine.  I was bit by a dog yesterday.”  He kept his eyes on the floor, the wall, the paper covered bed, the posters and old magazines.  Everywhere except on Dr. Grimes.

“Do you want me to take a look at it?”  Dr. Grimes kept his eyes locked on Phoenix, watching his every move.  His brown eyes sparkled with intensity, as if he was trying to will Phoenix’s eyes to meet his own.  But Phoenix would have none of it.

“No, it’s fine.  It’s not my hand that has everyone under the sun freaked out.  It’s not my hand that’s changed.  I’ve read some of your work Doc, it’s good.  Do you think you know what happened to me? Do you know why I’m like this?” For the first time since entering Mercy Medical the boy called Phoenix looked up.

I meant for them to be my last words.  I didn’t mean for all the fights.  That bathtub, that toaster, it was supposed to be the end of the fighting, not the beginning of something worse.  Now I can’t stop the fighting.  The accusations my father hurls, like stones, at my mother.  The blame he puts on her.  The way they both look at me—only when my coal black eyes are focused elsewhere.  The black spots I see growing in their chests.
                   -From the confessions of Phoenix Krow

“Black eyes.  I thought maybe it was an exaggeration.  I thought there was no way a person’s eyes could just transform so suddenly and completely.  You tried to electrocute yourself, is that right?”  The doctor pulled a manila file folder stuffed with papers and news clippings.  “Krow” was written on the tab twice, once in blue pen and once in black permanent marker over the pen creating a shadow effect. 
         
“Yes.”  His eyes shown black, not grey or dark brown.  Pitch black.

         “I see.” He circled something on a page from the folder.  “It says here that ever since the accident y— ”

         “Suicide.  Call it what it was doc.”

         “Very well.  After your—suicide attempt, it says you started to see apparitions, hallucinations.  What can you tell me about those?”

         “I wouldn’t call them hallucinations, nor apparitions.  I see marks on people, right where their heart should be.  Spots, sometimes large sometimes smaller but always black spots.”

         “Is there anything you’ve noticed that could give us some insight into these spots you’re seeing?”  Dr. Grimes laid the folder aside and adjusted the golden rimmed glasses on his face.  As he leaned forward, the chair squeaked and groaned beneath his shifting weight.

         “No, no rhyme, no reason.  Your blackness is small, about the size of a baseball.  The man sitting in the waiting room, John Grey’s his name, the preschool teacher; his blackness was so big it filled his entire torso.”  Black.  The color of his soul.  Phoenix thought to himself, as he lied to Dr. Oswald Grimes.  Phoenix knew exactly what these “apparitions” were.

         “Interesting.  Okay, we’re going to run some tests, mostly brain scans.  Then I want to analyze your blood for mutation, and do a few eye tests.  Have you had an Electro-oculogram before?”  The manila envelope reappeared in Dr. Grimes hand as he began to take notes again.

         “I don’t think so.”

         “Corneal Cell Count test?”

         “Yes”

         “Pachymetry?”

         “No”

         “Alright, that’s where we’ll start.  Just go out front and tell Sue you need to go to the lab.  We’ll get the results back in about a week.”

I didn’t mean for it to happen the first time, or the second.  It was like I couldn’t control myself.  Sure, they were young, students in my class, but I never touched them.  I just watched—at first.  I can’t imagine what would happen if they found out.  They don’t understand.  I love those kids.  Love them more than anything else in the world.  Love them more than anyone else would.  More than anyone else could.
         -From the Confessions of John Grey

John Grey walked through the streets of his quiet town.  The streets were deserted as the moon drifted in and out of dark clouds overhead.  A cold wind blew that night and John Grey pulled his coat tighter around his neck and nestled his hat low to his head.  He ducked into an alleyway—a shortcut home through the old construction site.  The wind seemed to whisper his name as it whipped around steel beams and old rusted cement mixers. 

         “John Grey.”  A voice from behind a mixer called out like the wind.  John Grey started and nearly stumbled.

         “What? Who’s there?”  His voice trembled as his eyes searched for a shape in blackness.

         “John Grey.  Your soul is black, your sins great.”  The voice came from behind him now and John Grey whirled around.  A man stood there, metal, glistening in the moon light, in his right hand.

         “My sins?  I’ve done nothing wrong.  Nothing! I loved those kids! Loved them all” He fell backwards over his own feet, his voice high from fear. 

         “Good bye John Grey.  Say hello to the devil.  Tell him Phoenix sent you.”  John Grey began to scream, a scream which turned to a gurgle as blood poured from his jugular into his now severed windpipe.  John Grey slumped over gasping for breath, choking on his own blood, twitched twice, and then was still. 

There comes a point when every man realizes his destiny, realizes that everything in life—all the good, and the bad—culminates in a single moment.  There is a time when everything seems exactly the way it should be.  For me that time came in an old construction site.  I became the agent of God himself.  I have been placed on this earth, my purpose is to cleanse the earth of sinners.  That is why I was granted black eyes and the ability to see into the souls of men.  This is why I was raised from death.
                   -From the Confessions of Phoenix Krow

“SERIAL KILLER AT LARGE”  “NIGHT BLADE STRIKES AGAIN”  “CITY STUMPED; KILLER RAMPANT” Terror gripped the small desert town, headlines screamed the thoughts, and fears of the entire town.  The “night blade” killed indiscriminately, men or women, rich or poor, it mattered not to this killer.  11 victims, 12 false leads, and 2 months later, the police, even the FBI, were no closer to the killer than the day after the death of his first victim, John Grey.  And not 10 minute’s walk from the first murder scene, at Mercy Medical Center, a young man in a black baseball cap smiled at the most recent headline; “NIGHT BLADE SLAYS HOLY WOMAN.” 

         “Steven, the doctor will see you now.  Room 7 as usual.”

         “Thank you Sue.  Did you see the paper? Looks like he got another one.”  Phoenix adjusted his black cap and sunglasses as he spoke.  Standing and heading down the hallway, he turned, just slightly, to read the headline one more time.

         Dr. Grimes sat, hands behind his head, reclining in a red leather chair thinking, when Phoenix walked in.  Phoenix had been meeting with Dr. Grimes every other week, getting test done, trying to explain why Phoenix’s eyes were black.

         “Well, we’ve done all the test I can think of and we can’t find anything.  I don’t know what else to do.”  Dr. Grimes seemed exasperated, his eyes were bloodshot, his shoulders weighted down with fatigue.  “I mean, there doesn’t seem to be anything fundamentally different that would cause your eyes to just turn black.”

         “Perhaps, doctor, we should just attribute it to a divine mark, like a passport stamp, that signifies my return from the land of the dead.”  Phoenix eyes met the doctor’s, then darted to his chest, and back to his eyes.  Blackness, still the size of a baseball lay burrowed in Dr. Grimes’ heart.  He was still safe, at least from the “night blade” as the media called him.  A baseball wasn’t enough for condemnation, not like the latest victim. 

         Her name was Ruth, and she was the wife of the local minister.  Phoenix stood outside her house and followed her for days, he had to be sure.  A ministers wife, it was impossible that she be filled with so much blackness.  Her soul so dark, especially for a holy woman.  He stood outside the church, watched her and her husband enter.  He waited.  He watched the Alcoholics Anonymous group enter, 13 in number. He waited.  He watched 12 alcoholics leave, each with a little less darkness than when they went in.  He watched the Pastor leave alone, hiding only a golf ball sized ball of black within his soul.  He waited and waited.  Finally, hours later, the 13th Alcoholic left, his soul in the same state as when he arrived.  Still Phoenix waited.  When Ruth finally exited the building, as the sun was beginning to set, Phoenix could hardly believe his eyes.  He saw, in this supposed woman of God, a pitch black basketball where only a volleyball had been before. 
         
My husband has never been able to satisfy me.  We married young, too young, and he became a pastor.  I could never divorce him; it would be terrible for his image, so instead I play the good wife when we are around others.  At home we sleep in separate beds, and hardly touch each other.  It was 2 years into our marriage when I started seeing other men, men from bars, or that I met walking their dogs.  Nothing about these relationships (if you could call them that) was long term.  Merely something to keep me physically satisfied.  I’m sure he knows, I stay out all night and come home smelling like sex and cheap alcohol.  But he never says a word.
         -From the confessions of Ruth Fisher

“Ruth Fisher.  You have been judged and found with a black soul.”  As Phoenix spoke Ruth whirled around terror in her eyes.

         “I… wha…?”

“Say hello to the devil.  Tell him Phoenix sent you.”  His blade flashed, blood sprayed onto the hood of her blue Oldsmobile.  Then he walked away. 
That was two days ago, and the newspapers were just reporting it.  News traveled fast in this town, but Ruth’s body hadn’t been discovered right away.  Her husband, it seemed, was used to her staying out all night.  He had assumed there was a late night prayer meeting that he had forgotten about, or so he said.  Phoenix knew the truth, and it made him sick. 

“Steven? Are you listening to me?”

“What? Sorry, I was thinking about something else.  What were you saying?”

“I was saying there must be something aside from a ‘passport stamp’ as you put it.  Are you sure the hallucinations have subsided?”

         “I’m sure.  I would know if I was still seeing black orbs in people’s chests.  Trust me, there is nothing different about me.  I was just given a second chance; I guess there was still something for me to do on earth.”  The lies came easily to Phoenix; even more so because they were precisely what the ‘expert’ wanted to hear.

         “I don’t think you should look at this that way.  It isn’t healthy to have these illusions of grandeur, these thoughts of some higher purpose.  I’m afraid of the mentality they are putting you in.”  Dr. Grimes had set down his pen, and put aside his clipboard.  His green eyes shown with genuine concern as he spoke.

         “Don’t worry about me Doc.  I’m doing the right thing.  Do I need to come in again? Or are we done?”  Phoenix stood ready to leave.

         “We’re done.  There are no more tests I can give you.  Be careful out there, Steven.”  Dr. Grimes also stood up and offered his hand.

         Taking it, Phoenix replied, “I will Doc.  You don’t have to worry about me.”  For the last time, Phoenix walked out of room 7.
         
         I had to do it.  I had no choice.  I know it’s terrible, but I felt the cold steel in my hand and instantly thought of all the beatings my mother had received trying to protect me, of all the belts and backhands I took.  I thought about the stench of alcohol on his breath as he swung his fists at my stomach, thought of his cowboy boots, their harsh, worn, leather tearing the skin on my sides.  Thought of his laughter booming over my tears, and I pulled the trigger.  Then I pulled it again, and again, until I knew he was dead.  Until I knew he would never hurt mother or me again.  I should feel bad about killing him, he was my father—but I feel no remorse at all.  Given the chance, I would do it again in a heartbeat.
         -From the confessions of Sarah Downs

She was too young to have such a black soul, Phoenix thought as the young girl walked by.  She couldn’t be more than eighteen years old and yet she carried a pitch black orb the size of a softball in her chest.  She was as guilty as any Phoenix had seen, and it was her time to pay for her sins.  He followed Sarah Downs from school to an abandoned playground on the outskirts of town where she sat down and pulled out a journal, and without looking up, began to write.

         He walked up behind her, and spoke, “Sarah Downs.  Your sins have made your heart—your soul—black as night.  Judgment is at hand.”  He pulled the blade from the sheath inside his jacket.  “Say hello to the devil.  Tell him Phoenix sent you.” 

         Sarah tried to get up, but he grabbed her by the hair throwing her to the ground.  She began to scream but was cut short with a flash of his blade.  Her scream was reduced to a gurgling of blood as Phoenix wiped the blood from the blade on the grass and walked away.

         The next day the newspaper reported the death of Sarah Downs, a 16 year old girl being investigated for the murder of her father.  Phoenix read the headlines, a subtle smile on his face, over a plate of eggs and a glass of juice.  Walking to the bathroom, he stopped suddenly in the hall.  To his left was an old mirror, half hidden behind a sheet.  His mother hated the mirror; she hated all mirrors, but this one in particular because it was full length and it had belonged to her mother-in-law.  The white sheet had slipped away and revealed a corner of the gleaming silver surface.  Phoenix, drawn to the old mirror, pulled the remainder of the sheet to the floor; it floated off revealing an ornately carved frame. “I am not cruel, only truthful—The eye of a little god, four-cornered.” was carved into the frame.  It wasn’t the frame that captivated Phoenix’s attention.  It was the reflection.  His entire body, from the tip of his head, to the bottom of his feet was black.  Darker than he had ever seen before.  Phoenix looked into the old mirror and realized his destiny was at hand.
         
I was wrong.  I don’t know how, and I don’t know what went wrong.  I killed them because I thought they were sinners, I thought they were marked by God for Judgment.  In my frenzy to do the will of God, I never looked at myself.  I never thought I could be wrong.
         -From the Confessions of Phoenix Krow

He walked back to the kitchen, and unplugged the toaster from the wall, carrying it again to the bathroom; he stopped to look into that great mirror again.  Still black.  He walked into the bathroom and set the toaster next to the tub and plugged it in. 

Hello, Devil.  I’m Phoenix.