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"My son requested no funeral. Shortly after his disappearance, we found his journal with explicit instructions on how his arrangements were to be carried out. It seems as though he planned on committing suicide for a long while. God only knows the pain that Patrick must have been feeling in order to have planned and executed such a thing. Back in Jesus' time people may have through Patrick was possessed, but today we know that he must have suffered from some psychological disorder that pushed him over the edge. For what other reason could he have had to do it? As you know, Mrs. Maiden and I have loved and looked out for our son in every possible way. I can only blame the gene or whatever it was that I passed along to my son that made him suffer from this…affliction thattook his…life."

Rev. Maiden broke down at the pulpit. Mrs. Maiden rush up to him and handed him her handkerchief. He nodded to her and tried to regain composure….

This is not easy for us, but your kind words, thoughts and visits have given us considerable comfort in our days of sorrow. Mrs. Maiden and I cannot thank you enough for your generosity and thoughtfulness. Now let us pray."


Rev. Maiden smacked his son across the jaw and sent his flying back against the door of the parsonage. The force took Patrick off his feet. He stared at his father with resolve in his eyes, and behind at his mother who screamed "Dan, stop! What are you doing? Leave him alone!"

Rev Maiden turned to look at his wife. He had a letter in his hand.

'Do you know what this is? It's an E-mail! A love letter from someone named Nicky! I found a slew of them up in his room! All printed out and wrapped in a ribbon. Just listen to this filth!" He read from one of the letters.

"Dearest Patrick, I had the most wonderful time last night. How did you make that tower look so beautiful? The music, the flowers, even the bed? It must have been abandoned for years. Please leave the green light on top of the tower lit for me tonight so we can be together again and again."

"You sick sodomite! How could you possibly think that this was godly? Did you know about this?" Rev. Maiden walked to his wife and looked at her! "Answer me, Mrs. Maiden"

"No, Dan. I didn't know. But don't do anything stupid, Dan. Leave the boy alone."

Patrick slowly rose to his feet and took his father's attention away from his mother.

"She has a name, Father. CALL HER BY HER NAME!"

Rev. Maiden reeled back and grabbed his son by his shirt collar. "DO NOT tell me how to speak to my wife. You abnormal disgusting FREAK!" The minister became instantly calm., he remained his hold on his son and looked at his wife. Then he looked back at his son. "I have a duty to my parishioners. I cannot let this go. How can I preach the word of God and not do his will in my own house! I have to." The minister looked at his son. "Through this, I will be Abraham and will be beloved of God!" He looked up to the sky and exclaimed.

"Through this sacrifice, you will know the bosom of God." He put both of his large hands around his son's neck.

"Pray with me, Son. Give up your sins to God before it's too late." His hands tightened around his son's neck. Patrick grabbed at his father's hands but to no avail.

It was strange, the minister did not shake his son's neck. There was no sound, just the small unnoticeable tightening of his father's hands on his neck. He stared into his father's eyes. He knew he couldn't reason with him. He wasn't Patrick anymore, he was Isaac. Patrick's eyes began to roll back into his head.

Mrs. Maiden screamed, "Stop! Leave him alone! She picked up a pair of scissors from the sewing table she had been sitting at. She stabbed him in the arm. Rev. Maiden screamed and let go of his son with his afflicted arm.

"GET BACK, MRS. MAIDEN!" She grabbed his other arm and pulled it away from her son. "RUN PATRICK! GET OUT!" Patrick ran out the door and into the park across the street. Rev. Maiden shoved his wife away from his and then pulled the scissors out of his arm. Blood went everywhere. When the scissors fell to the floor, there was already a pool of blood that they could splatter. She had hit an artery in his arm and he was losing consciousness fast. He walked over to the door and screamed after his son.

"YOU'RE DEAD TO ME! THERE IS NO ROOM FOR YOU IN GOD'S HOUSE OR IN MINE!" He turned back to his wife. His vision was becoming blurred and he grabbed for his wife to steady himself.

"Did you know about this? Tell me. Tell me, please!" He collapsed into his wife's hysterical arms.


"…Thank you, Mrs. Maiden. I am sorry my friends, this is very difficult for me. As many of you already know, I had been in a coma for four months following the disappearance of my son. I feel I must confess what happened to you, at least as I was told what happened, for I remember little after hearing that Patrick was gone. In my grief, I turned to drink and stumbled home late one night. In the dark of the foyer of the parsonage, I tripped over Mrs. Maiden's sewing table and impaled myself on a pair of scissors. Apparently, I hit an artery in my arm and lost quite a bit of blood. My wife rushed me to the hospital and I was in a coma until last week. What saddens me most of all is that I missed the chance to say good-bye to my son. My son requested no funeral…"

"I heard him on the answering machine!" He stammered into the phone. "I heard him. He told me he was going to put the light in the tower on again." He listened into the phone for a split second and then spoke in the fast tone of someone cutting the other person off.

"Don't tell me I'm crazy, Mrs. Maiden, I heard it. It's on the machine, come home and listen for it yourself!" But when she got home there was no message there. It was gone. No trace of a call on the Caller ID. This kind of thing happened daily since The Minister came home from the hospital. Rev. Maiden looked out the window while his wife explained to him for the hundredth time how he needed to calm down and stop thinking about it all the time.

"It was no one's fault," she would continuously say "You have to accept it and move on."

"Don't tell me to calm down, Mrs. Maiden, I heard it…" He gasped and dropped the phone. It fell to the floor with a metallic clatter. "There it is! The light! He's left the light on again. The green light! I'm coming, Patrick! I'm so sorry, please let me make it up to you! I'm coming!" The Minister ran out of the house and into the storm outside.. Leaving the door open, he ran into the dark park across the street. The ran through the entrance all the way across the empty driver's lane and onto the brink of the lake. There he started to take off his jacket and shirt and wade into the lake. His eyes transfixed to the green blinking light across the lake in the deserted tower.

Mrs. Maiden listened to her husband call out to his son and silently hung up on her end when she heard him run out and the wind bang the door closed. Her phone immediately rang again…

The Minister began to swim towards the middle of the lake when suddenly the light in the tower went out. He stopped swimming and looked toward where the light had been. He suddenly felt very alone. The pounding rain pelted him, making him one with the lake that seemed to swallow him. In the wind he heard his son's name. He heard his wife's name. He heard his name. God knew what he had done. He remembered it all, but had not thought of it all until this moment. He almost silently cried out "Patrick, don't leave me again." She began to sob, his warm tears added to the waters where his son's body was supposed to have been found only weeks before.

"Mrs. Maiden, what have I done?"

The hook pierced his cheek before he realized there was a boat near him.

"She has a name, Dad. Call her by her name" He gently pulled his father towards him with the hook so that he was facing him.

"How do you expect to have a real marriage if you can't call her by her name?" He pulled the hook towards him just the way one pulls the rip cord of a chain saw or a boat motor. The hook tore his cheek open and another one impaled his chest. He pulled his father over the side of the boat cradled him in his arms. He took his father's neck between his hands and look at him.

Deeply staring into his father's eyes, he whispered "Did you ever stop to think that Nicky would be a girl's name?" His father's expression turned quizzical and then became replete with revelation that immediately dissolved into disgust right before his son slit his throat and threw him overboard.

Patrick watched his father sink into the lake and took up a green lamp which he held up high. With his other hand he rowed himself into the middle of the lake.

In answer, the tower's green light began to blink in tandem with his. He put his light down and began to row ferociously towards the tower's shore. The green light in the tower kept blinking slowly. Beckoning him home. Patrick reached the shore and jumped out of the boat onto the grass beyond. He began to sing to his accomplice in the tower above.

"Love, soft as an easy chair…"

He ran, almost breathless, to the towers entrance. He glanced up once to his destination, as if it was his entrance to heaven and then started his ascent up the stairs.

"Love, fresh as the morning air…"

His voice echoed and replicated itself up the stone stairs of the tower and suddenly a choir of angels were paying homage to the deity waiting at the top of the tower.

"One love that is shared by two…"

He reached the top of the stairs and stopped in his tracks, seeing the resplendent silhouette of his beloved backlit by the green glow of light behind her.

His mother, Nicole, finished the verse.

"I have found with you."

He walked up to his mother and kissed her hard. Their tongues meshed and became one. He caressed his mother's head with one hand while he held the hook he killed his father with in the other.

"Patrick, it's done. I couldn't feel better about it. I love you so much. I want you to be with me one last time, here in the tower. The last time we have to come here and hide. Before we begin a new life."

Patrick picked his mother up with one hand and sat her down on the ledge of the open window of the tower. She looked back upon the lake and chuckled.

"It's a shame though." She mused.

"What's a shame, Nicky?" He replied

"That our son will never know who his grandfather was." She took her son's hand and placed it on her stomach. And then she moved it lower. Patrick looked at his mother lovingly and pushed her further up on the window ledge and began to undress himself. He lifted up her dress and began to kiss her neck and breasts. When he was ready, he entered her and he conquered her with such force that she had to steady herself on the edge of the window.

"Our son will be beautiful, do you know that?" She cried out in ecstasy.

"I know mother, I know." He cried out as he released himself in her and then picked up his hook and plunged it into her. His mother's eyes came back from her glimpse of heaven and saw what her son was doing.

"Patrick, stop! What are you doing? Don't you want a brother?"

He caught something within her, but instead of pulling the hook back, he grabbed her arm and pushed her out the window of the tower. She fell with a bloodcurdling scream as part of her remained on her son's hook.

Patrick Maiden looked over at his mother's body. Then he looked at his brother. He looked over at his father and his face took on the ghostly glow of an orphan in the storm.

An original story written for the Everything Quests: Scary Stories On October 30, 2002.

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