Beyond the Light.

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!”

The scream woke his father from sleep. Running into the boy’s room, bleary eyed and wearing only his boxer shorts, the boy’s father gasped for air.

“Elijah, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

The boy was sat up in bed. He was still screaming, but his eyes were closed.

The boy’s father sighed away his panic and muttered to himself.

“A nightmare, that’s all.”

The boy’s father had every right to be cautious. It had been almost two years, twenty-two months and sixteen days to be precise, since it had happened. The boy had regular night terrors, yet still his father would react with the same urgency each time his son cried out.

“Lie down, Elijah. It’s just a bad dream.”

His son mumbled incoherently. His father could only make out three words that his son would sporadically repeat.

“They took her.”

Hearing that caused a great pain in his father. Even after Elijah had once again settled, the words reverberated in his father’s mind.

His father went back to bed and tried to sleep but struggled to empty his mind. He played out the morning he returned to find she had disappeared again and again. This wasn’t any different than most nights. Good sleep was no longer a regular occurrence and had been replaced by a restless guilt, yet for some reason tonight felt heavier than usual.

“Could I have done something different? I should have cancelled the trip. She wasn’t feeling well, and I should have stayed with her. Yet Elijah was so excited to visit the zoo. I could have drove back that night. It had been such a long drive though and we’d already booked to stay over. Would it have been any different if we had stayed home? What if something had happened to Elijah too? At least he was kept safe by not being there. But if we’d been together, perhaps I could have helped, perhaps she’d still be here.”

This type of pendulum thinking plagued Elijah’s father constantly. His work had been understanding and had given him time off in the immediate aftermath. Yet he knew his performance was slipping since he returned. There was only so much goodwill they could give before they laid him off. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

A thought crept into his mind.

“What if she wanted to leave?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d thought this, and each time he tried to shake it from his mind. As if her leaving them to be happy elsewhere was somehow worse than her abduction and potential murder. He knew that was selfish, to wish her dead and in love with him than alive and with someone else, but he couldn’t deny that deep down he felt that. He’d never admit it, yet he knew it was there.

They’d never found a body. The case was still open, and it would be many years before she was officially presumed dead. Yet he felt as if he knew, as if he could sense that her spirit was no longer here. There’d been no leads, no signs of a break-in, so the notion of her leaving voluntarily was very possible. But there was no evidence of that either. Her clothes, passport, bank cards, and other belongings were still all within the house.

It was as if she went to sleep that night and simply vanished.

“Dad… I keep having weird dreams.”

His son had stopped eating his cereal mid spoonful. Honey loops and milk plopped from the spoon back into the bowl. His father saw his son’s hand was shaking.

“They’re just dreams, son. You’ve been through a lot. But they’re just dreams.”

“They feel so real. I’m scared, Dad.”

Elijah’s father looked over at his son. He was ten years old now, yet when Elijah was afraid his features reverted to when he was a baby. At least that’s how he looked to his father.

“They’re just dreams, son. Forget about them and eat your breakfast. You’ll be late for school.”

Elijah meekly went back to his bowl of cereal and didn’t say another word. He stayed silent on the drive to school and remained quiet throughout the day. He only spoke when someone addressed him directly. When the dinner bell rang, he trudged outside onto the playground and ate his packed lunch on a bench alone.

“Elijah, look out!”

He turned just in time to see the football hurtling towards his face. The impact knocked him off the bench and to the floor, his head hitting the concrete of the playground with a sickening thud.

Elijah woke up in his classroom. He was lay on the carpet with a cushion to prop up his head. His teacher, Mrs. Unsworth, was stood over him.

“Elijah, how are you feeling?”

The boy sat up and looked around. He still felt woozy, but he was fine.

“I’m okay, Miss.”

“Well don’t get up yet. There’s still a little while before the dinner break ends. I’ve checked you over, and though there’s going to be a big lump there’s no real damage.”

She smiled to reassure him, then her face became stern.

“Elijah, while you were unconscious you said some strange things.”

Elijah’s face beamed red with a mixture of embarrassment and dread.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, and though your father refused, I am qualified as a child therapist. It’s what I did before I became a teacher.”

Elijah looked worried.

“Isn’t that for people who are crazy, Miss?”

“No, no. Not at all. Sometimes people need a little help to deal with the bad things that have happened to them.”

Elijah nodded.

“I know your father doesn’t think you need it, but it isn’t anything bad. It could help you a lot. So maybe we should keep it between us two?”

Elijah didn’t like the idea of hiding things from his father, but he was also terrified of the nightmares he’d been having.

Children began to pour from outside and into the classroom.

“Okay, take your seat. Come and see me tomorrow after your dinner.”

Elijah spent most of his dinner with Mrs. Unsworth the next day. They spoke about a lot of things, not delving too deep into his dreams and the disappearance of his mother. Mrs. Unsworth remembered this from her previous job. It was best to build a relationship with the client first before beginning to peel back those layers. They agreed to have a session during dinner break once a week, and each session followed a similar pattern for the first month.

Elijah felt happy talking to Mrs. Unsworth. He occasionally spoke about how he missed his mother, yet she never pushed him further than what he felt comfortable with. The nightmares continued, and when Elijah eventually confessed this to Mrs. Unsworth she had a suggestion.

“Elijah, how would you feel about being hypnotised?”

Elijah looked confused.

“Like a magician does?”

Mrs. Unsworth chuckled.

“Sort of, but it isn’t as silly as that. I’d help you enter a dream state and be able to communicate with you like we are now. It would allow me to truly see what’s happening with these nightmares you’re having. We’d be able to see what they mean, and how best to deal with whatever is causing them.”

Elijah felt unsure about the idea, yet he trusted Mrs. Unsworth and wanting nothing more than for his night terrors to stop.

“Okay, Miss. If you think it will help.”

She led him through the dialogue, a pre-written script she’d fished out from her old files. She changed certain phrases to best match his situation, but it was essentially the same. She felt nostalgia with each word, realising that these sessions were as much for herself as they were a potential help for Elijah.

Soon he was under.

She began to ask some general questions, like a detective with a lie-detector, to gauge his responsiveness. Then she began to probe further.

“Elijah, do you think about your mother often?”

“I do. I think about her all the time.”

“…and what do you feel when you think about her?”

“I feel sad. I miss her a lot.”

“It’s normal and healthy to miss those we love, and it’s okay to feel those things.”

He repeated the last six words.

“It’s okay to feel those things.”

“That’s right. You miss your mum a lot, but what else do you feel?”

“I feel confused. I don’t understand what happened. She just disappeared. She never said goodbye.”

“That must be hard. Let me ask, what do you think happened to your mother?”

There was a long silence before Elijah answered.

“They took her.”

Mrs. Unsworth felt confused but knew that abduction was one of the theories for her disappearance, she’d read so in the papers.

“Who are they?”

Elijah began to stir with discomfort.

“They come to me in my dreams. They say they’ll take me too.”

Mrs. Unsworth began to feel as if she was making progress. Elijah’s recurring nightmare could be his mind filling in the blanks of her disappearance. If he believed she had been taken from their home, it made perfect sense he’d be afraid the same could happen to him too.

“Where will they take you?”

Elijah’s stirring became more troubled.

“Beyond.”

“…beyond?”

“Beyond the light.”

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“When you die, you head towards the light. They took her beyond the light. Beyond death.”

Mrs. Unsworth was unnerved by his response. She had taught Elijah for the entire year and had never heard him speak in such a way. She considered stopping there, bringing him back to awareness, yet she pressed on.

“These people who you think will take you away, what do they look like?”

Elijah’s face contorted into a painful grimace.

“Not people.”

“…then what?”

“They are pure light. There are without form. All I see is bright light. Bright light and…”

He trailed off.

“…and what, Elijah?”

“…and the eye. It stares into me, into my soul, but also looks beyond me. It’s hard to explain. Within the eye exists geometry I don’t understand, its iris a complexity of a labyrinthine chaos. I am terrified by it yet captivated. It’s impossible to look away, even as I feel it burning through my being.”

Mrs. Unsworth was now panicked. It seemed impossible that a ten-year-old boy could say such things, could imagine such visions. She knew she should stop, that to delve further would invite catastrophe, yet she too was captivated.

“Are they angels? Elijah, are you saying angels visit you in your dreams?”

“Not angels. No. More like the others…”

“The others?”

“There’s not much time left. Please, save my son.”

Before Mrs. Unsworth could respond Elijah let out a scream so loud she had to cover her ears to dull its intensity.

Then there was silence.

Slowly, Elijah began to open his eyes.

Mrs. Unsworth looked mortified.

“Miss, is everything okay?”

She tried to shake away the dread.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

She smiled, but worried that even a boy so young would notice its insincerity.

“It’s nearly time for class now.”

“Are we meeting again next week, Miss?”

“…maybe. I think we may have to cancel next week. There are things I must… attend to.”

She continued with her day, trying to not let her distraction show. She knew what she had to do, yet she wanted nothing more than to avoid it. This feeling of unease clung to her, from classroom to journey home, growing in intensity until the moment she finally picked up the phone.

Mrs. Unsworth’s hands trembled. It rang three times before Elijah’s father answered.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but this is urgent. I’ve gone over and over in my head all evening how best to approach this.”

The man paused.

“Who is this?”

“Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry. This is Mrs. Unsworth. I’m Elijah’s teacher.”

A twinge of panic entered the man’s voice.

“Is everything okay?”

He walked towards Elijah’s bedroom and peered through the door. The boy was sleeping, at least for the moment, soundly. He’d seemed fine when he’d returned from school.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, and I’m sure you’ll be angry when I do. I’ve been having counselling sessions with your son during the dinner breaks at school. I wanted to help him work through his grief.”

Another pause. Mrs. Unsworth couldn’t be sure, but she felt as if his response was said through gritted teeth.

“…go on.”

“Your son has been having some, let’s put it lightly, bizarre dreams. There are things in there that no ten-year-old should be able to conjure. I’m not sure if he’s seen something on television he’s not supposed to or…”

“Let me stop you there, Mrs. Unsworth. I told you explicitly not to meddle into my son’s affairs. They’re just dreams. The best thing to do is to ignore them. It’s a phase he’s going through, but the last thing that will help is shining a light on them. I think…”

“Do you know what your son has been seeing? I think if you did it might change your mind.”

“I don’t. I don’t want to know. Let me be frank, Mrs. Unsworth. I don’t trust people like you. Therapists, counsellors, whatever you want to call them. You make minor issues into huge problems. You pry and pry and don’t once consider the consequences. They’re just dreams, and they should be treated as such. If they’re left alone then maybe…”

He trailed off.

“Is this about your wife?”

“That’s none of your damn business.”

“I heard the rumours. That she’d been having emotional difficulties before she disappeared. I know you don’t see me as an ally, but if you ever want to talk…”

“I don’t.”

“I know this is going to sound bizarre, but I think I spoke to your wife this afternoon. I think that…”

He hung up the phone.

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!”

The scream woke his father from sleep. Running into the boy’s room, bleary eyed and wearing only his boxer shorts, the boy’s father gasped for air.

“Elijah, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

The boy was sat up in bed. He was still screaming, but his eyes were closed.

The boy’s father sighed away his panic and muttered to himself.

“A nightmare, that’s all.”

His father cursed Mrs. Unsworth under his breath. Deep down he knew she was trying to help, but so had the person his wife had been seeing. His wife had told him about her dreams, about the strange things she saw and how real it all felt. He hadn’t known what to do, so he’d sent her for professional help. Perhaps he should have been there for her instead. She’d been against counselling at first and it was him who had convinced her. Now it was happening again to his son. He hadn’t lied to Mrs. Unsworth, he’d never asked or allowed his son to tell him what he saw in his nightmares. He didn’t need to. He remembered holding his wife as she wept and explained the inexplicable beings from her dreams that threatened to take her away.

Elijah’s father lay wide awake in his bed, unsure of what to do. As the worry ebbed enough for him to start to drift away, he heard an explosion of glass from his son’s bedroom. He dived from his bed, through the door, and down the hallway.

Elijah’s curtains billowed in the wind and rain of the night. The cartoon tigers fluttered as if they were alive. Elijah had loved the zoo, especially the tigers. A lightning flash illuminated the sky, and Elijah’s father saw his son outside the window. His pyjamas were soaked, and Elijah sidled towards the drainpipe.

“Elijah, stop. What are you doing?”

Before his father could stop him, the boy had begun to climb.

It seemed impossible that Elijah could have the strength to do so, yet the boy ascended to the roof with ease.

His father climbed after him and soon both were stood on the rooftop amid the storm.

“Elijah, please. Come here.”

His father edged with care across the wet tiles. Elijah strode across with ease, climbing on top of the chimney.

“It’s okay, Dad. They’ve come to take me. They’re taking me beyond the light.”

“Elijah, what are you saying? Please, come here.”

Elijah smiled. His face calm and at peace.

“I’ll tell Mum you love her.”

The sky flashed white, and Elijah’s dad saw as a bolt of lightning crackled down and struck his son.

“ELIJAH!”

Elijah’s father looked around, yet his son was gone.

They would never find a body. The case would stay open, and it would be many years before Elijah was officially presumed dead. There’d be no leads, no signs of a break-in, the broken window had been smashed from inside the house. Elijah’s clothes, toys, and other belongings were still all within the house. The police suspected Elijah’s father, yet without any evidence they could do nothing.

He would never tell anyone what happened that day.

A few weeks later, his mobile phone rang. He’d saved the number after their first conversation.

Mrs. Unsworth was the only person he could talk to, the only person who might even believe him.

He wasn’t ready for that. He let the phone ring out and never listened to the voicemail.