Short Stories

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Counterfeit

The past two months have been delightful for me. It started on Mother's day when I went to visit mom. I brought her some lovely white roses for the occasion. It was on that day I met Harold. I’d been looking for a companion, some one to share my dreams and life with, someone to be my spiritual guide and help me make decisions, and wall-la there he was. Just lots down from mom’s place, he was hanging around his space, watching me; a soul in need of a body and I was a body in need of a soul. There was an immediate attraction. We kept our relationship concealed from the world by spending most of our time at my place. The only living thing that knew Harold existed besides me was my dog Scruffy and he didn't take to Harold at all, growling at him whenever he was around and occassionally making a point by peeing on his shoes.

I knew Mom wouldn’t approve of Harold either, because he was strongly New Age and she raised me a staunch Baptist. No, that’s not quite right, she raised me as a Christian in the Baptist church, but I had started experimenting with different philosophies. New age thinking seemed exotic and magical. Time sped up because there was someone to share it with, in eight long weeks we learned years of each other’s lives, in two short months we became inseparable. Harold was too good to be true, that should have served as a wake up call. No man is perfect! We were so obsessed with each other, he had decided he wanted me to move in with him,(no mention of marriage) he practically lived at my apartment anyway. It now became apparent, (to me at least), I should tell my mom about him. He however still wanted to keep our liaison clandestine.

No matter, I decided on mom’s birthday I’d go and confide in her about us. She and I had a longer history of sharing life events than Harold and I did. I was hoping for her approval, knowing I’d get a homily. Harold was still adamant we keep our bond hush-hush, it was too fresh, too new. We needed time to take root and grow, was his strong argument.

The rain was coming down in sheets making driving hazardous yet Harold continued to plead the cause of secrecy. Why was he so afraid of mom’s reaction? He in fact was so distracting that he diverted my attention from my surroundings. He was good at that under any circumstances but it proved to be extremely dangerous in bad weather! I parked and stepped out in front of the only oncoming automobile. My dog,Scruffy, tried to pull me back, his teeth on the hem of my pants, but he only weighed ten pounds, five pounds of which was hair. The look in the driver’s face was as incredulous as mine was when we realized simultaneously what was about to occur. The car couldn’t stop fast enough on the wet asphalt. Smack! Bang!

I hit the ground amid the sounds of screaming (mine), and squealing brakes. I felt the pavement smack my head. My vision blurred but it seemed I caught a gleeful smile on Harold’s face; a look of triumph. Then my surroundings became hazy, hazier, and then wholly black.

I don’t know how long it took me to regain consciousness but enough time had elapsed that I was no longer on the concrete but stretched out on a nice over stuffed sofa, and the rain had stopped. I opened my eyes slowly and rotated my neck and shoulder blades. Then I wiggled my toes and fingers. I sat up cautiously then I stood and tested my balance. I was fine. No aches or pains. Some one had changed my clothes; I was in a dry, clean white robe so soft I could swear it was made of feathers. I pulled the neckline away and peeked down the front, nothing; I was absolutely a la natural under the gown. No signs of injuries or road rash. In fact, a old scar on my hand was gone. It must be the lighting.

“Well, I’m glad to have you here with us, back among the living” a male voice stated, startling me. It wasn’t Harold‘s. There was a figure standing in a shaft of light so bright I could barely make out his face, he was leafing through the pages of a large book. Even from the distance that separated us I could tell the book was filled with names and dates. Odd I could see the print clearly since my glasses must have fallen off at the accident scene and I was nearly blind without them.

My mother burst into the room, flustered. She looked dressed for a party; her white dress glittered with gold sprinkles and stardust. She had several tiaras on her head making her look slightly comical. Before the door closed behind her I saw white fluffy clouds sitting on the ground under a cloudless blue sky and a gold street lined with fruit trees. I've never been aware of this place by mom's before.

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Mom asked, frantic. “You’re early! Oh, dear, this is all Harold's fault!” How could I be early, I didn’t tell her I was coming, so she shouldn’t have been expecting me and how in blazes did she know about Harold already.

“I don’t know where I am, or how I got here.” I answered looking around the room I found myself in; it was beautiful, filled with priceless antiques. Light infused the place dispelling any shadows or darkness. Pictures hung on the walls representing a long line of ancestors, culminating in a picture of a man and woman in a garden, smiling innocently, dressed in …nothing, but tastefully concealed by bushes that had birthday balloons tied to them. Was that Charleton Heston standing on a mountain top holding some stone tablets? There was a picture of my host in a very formal room, standing next to a what I assumed was his father sitting on an elaborate chair. A throne? The cameraman didn’t adjust the shutter speed properly and all that developed was a big bright spot with the son standing on the right hand side.

“That picture doesn’t do Dad justice, but I’m told that seeing me is like seeing Dad, we’re practically duplicates. And to answer where you are and how you got here, This is my father’s house and a servant carried you in.” The voice explained moving closer, bringing the light with him. Was it a spot light? It seemed to stay centered on him. I noticed no light fixtures on the ceiling. Mom was pacing the room, still wringing her hands together.

“There, there, it will be all right, There is an ambulance coming for her, she won't be staying but she has reservations for latter." The young man comforted my mother, patting her shoulder. This information seemed to put her at ease, but I didn't need to go to the hospital, I felt fine if not a bit confused. What reservations?

Who was this man that acted so familiar with my mom! He looked me squarely in the eye. “Your friend, Harold, is an imposter. He wants to bring you down with him. He is no good for you.” Well, excuse me, just get to the point, will you, I thought to myself. What nerve, how dare this man act like he owns me!

“Don’t talk to me about Harold, you know nothing about him!” My attitude was becoming quite charged. I wouldn’t discuss Harold with a stranger until I had a chance to talk to mother about him…..in private.

“Honey, don’t talk to him like that, this man saved your life and he’s right, I know all about Harold, the real Harold is a marvelous man, we take harp lessons together, and the one you’re with is an imposter.”

“Imposter!” I was dumbfounded. “Why would he want to deceive me?”

“That’s the agenda of New Agers.” the man explained, “It is really an old religion, founded way before Abraham was called out of Ur to follow the true God. It is based on communicating with devils, not real people. ”

“Oh give me a break, that is what Harold warned me people would say!” I protested. There was knock on the door and a head popped in.

“Did I hear my name?”

“Harold, come join us!” The strange young man invited. A elderly man walked in with a spring to his steps that belied his obvious age. He face was devoid of wrinkles or age spots, and his hair was a glossy white. He was dressed in turn of the century clothing. Which century I couldn’t ascertain.

“This isn’t my Harold.” I proclaimed. I mean Harold had more years on him than I did but at least we were in the same century.

“The cad has assumed my identity without my permission. “ Harold exclaimed slamming a cane down on the chair next to him for emphasis . The cane was obviously for appearances, to make him appear dapper. “That devil follows no code of ethics, I’m the victim of an identity theft scam that has spanned the ages. I won’t be a part of it. Don’t let him fool you!”

I had been bamboozled. The youthful man spent some time educating me on the ways of the New Agers, while mom stood by muttering how she had tried to tell me these things years ago, but being only human (at the time) I had refused to listen to her. Now it made sense. After all demons have been around since Adam and Eve so they could just exploit someone’s life script and incorporate it into their lives, the perfect deception. The underworld doesn't follow HIPPA or privacy rules.

My head was beginning to ache, my body started to hurt, the room lights were dimming and gradually I started to feel water dripping in my face. My dog Scruffy was massaging my face with his tongue. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the pavement once again, the warm robe replaced with my soggy, torn and bloodied outfit. How rude!

Umbrellas were being held over me and a thermal blanket covered my very sore carcass. I was being instructed to not move as someone applied a cervical collar to my neck. Log rolled onto my side, I was placed on a cot that was lifted to the waiting ambulance where three knock dead gorgeous male paramedics climbed in with me (pardon the pun). Was I back in heaven or what?. You think the young man could have waited until my body was already in the nicely heated emergency transportation before he had his servant return my soul. I looked around for my mother and saw her standing a few rows back on the green cemetery lawn, where she had moved years ago. Harold was gone. This is where he had wanted me to move! Had he been behind the car accident? It was after all he who had deflected my attention from the oncoming vehicle, whose owner was now at my side apologizing profusely, repeating he hadn’t seen me until it was too late. How could that have been, this isn’t a high traffic area, not many car owners live here. I doubt I would see Harold again. Having learned a serious lesson, I wouldn’t be inviting him back to share my live. I had just met my true spirit guide and vowed to study harder to distinquish reality versus myth. No; myth was too mild a word and not and accurate description; I would study harder to recognize reality versus the counterfeit.

One of the paramedics beside me was from the singles group at my church, he was holding Scruffy who seemed to be content sitting in his lap. Make room up there for me, Scruffy. I wasn’t to far gone to notice the absence of a wedding band (which is why he'd be in the singles group). I reached out and touched his arm; real flesh, (just checking!) He leaned over and asked me how I felt, a heavy gold cross hanging from his neck.

“I feel like I was just hit by a car!” I croaked. "I think I need CPR, at the least, chest compressions."


Duet. 18:9-14
John 10:28,30
John 14:16-20
John 14:2
1 John 4:1
Rev 20:12
Rev 21:8
Rev 21:23

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