Chapter Fourteen Jeremiah #2
After several days of posing, Jeremiah saw the finished product, the way Doug had captured him.
The sheen of his skin, the quiet, solemn dignity in his eyes, on his lips…
even how he showcased the curvature of his biceps and pecs…
sublime. “I want to do another one,” Jeremiah said, fast as lightning after he’d fully absorbed the painting Douglas called Man of God.
Jeremiah suddenly remembered one of his favorite works from Diego Rivera, a nude woman crouched in front of a humongous basket of lilies.
“I want you to paint me like I’m surrounded by flowers, a child of heaven,” he declared, breathless.
His need to be captured on canvas, for all time… Had he known what was to come?
“Yes, yes… you deserve to be among the flowers,” Douglas agreed. “In the fields.”
During their next session, Douglas seemed surprised by how quickly Jeremiah took to being painted in the nude.
He got a space heater, placed topaz satin sheets on the floor of his studio, and draped Jeremiah’s body strategically after he lay down on a bed of pillows, Douglas doing everything in his power to make sure his man was comfortable.
The music, a soothing mix of Luther Vandross slow jams. The flowers were to be added on the canvas as the final touch.
Both artist and model, inspired by the brilliant yellow and Jeremiah’s ever-increasing joy, decreed that they should go with sunflowers.
When the portrait was finished, a paint-spackled Douglas turned off the heater, crawled on all fours onto topaz, and spooned his muse on cool sheets.
He placed his man’s supple palm on his heart.
Luther crooned, “If only for one night…” and Jeremiah imagined the smell of earth and petals all around them, imagined that the stars twinkled above.
He then turned, wanting Douglas to rest on top of him, wanting to feel his solid weight, to see the smile that glowed from his midnight skin.
To stroke his head as Douglas kissed the inside of his wrist. To nuzzle the blanket of silver hair that covered Douglas’s chest, his huge nipples a protrusion.
One of many treats that Jeremiah needed to savor, that he would savor for as long as he could before the memory was devoured by shadow.
Three nights after the Ghost Equinox, one night after Ebenezer held an all-night prayer vigil for those who’d perished in the northern city where so many members had relatives, the two men sat together and held hands in the pews.
Douglas was shocked when Jeremiah asked him to swing by and help him close down the church, when no one would be around.
Jeremiah, upon seeing reels of ghosts gnashing God-fearing folks in all sorts of horrible ways, realized that life was too short.
He wanted to know what it would feel like to sit with his special somebody under the stained-glass windows depicting a beautiful green garden with apple trees and lush lilac bushes tinged red by the setting sun.
A scene meant to represent the exalted state promised to humanity before man’s fall from grace.
One thing led to another, as it always did with Douglas, and the two made love in the pews.
Jeremiah’s memory of the moment, crisp, perfect.
The cushions soft under his back and behind.
Douglas’s kisses all over his body, his nipples, his arms, his crotch, the inside of his thighs, his toes.
Celestial, to gaze upon Douglas losing himself to skin and then peer at the sprawling arches of Ebenezer.
Jeremiah knew in his heart that what they were doing was lovely, that God looked upon them with favor.
He should have never had to choose.
Jeremiah focused on the windows illuminated by moonlight, absorbed by crimson-tinged leaves of paradise as his man lay on top of him. Crimson, like the blood-scarlet skies that had loomed above New York just days ago, that he saw on the TV, on the phone.
Something appeared in the stained-glass leaves.
Roving, menacing eyes. Red eyes, easily hidden amid the colors, making it easier to feast on its prey.
The thing had now come to feast on this, the most cherished of Jeremiah’s memories.
Of course, the fucker had taken everything else.
The fields of gold. The Man of God. The furtive kisses. All consumed.
The eyes grew, as did the shadow. The darkness overtook the stained glass, spread to Ebenezer’s glorious arches, to the pews, crawled up Doug’s soles and thighs and back and head and shoulders. Shadow filled Jeremiah’s mouth and clogged his nostrils.
He opened his eyes, woke with a choked gasp. His limbs, on fire.
Crimson streamed from his arms, soaking the hospital’s sheets. A bed of his own blood, blood that boiled.
The heat…
The heat…
Lord, have mercy on me… please…
The heat…
His arms and chest and neck swelled with blisters. Blood and more blood, bedsheets drenched. Crimson, evil… evil, glorious crimson that filled his insides, in places he never imagined. That made him ecstatic to give in.
His throat grew thick. He couldn’t breathe.
More searing pain… His eyes…
Jesus…
Jesus!!!!
… his eyes…
Matthew 6:9–13, yes… Matthew 6:9–13, protection. Yessssss…
protection. He needed protection. Remembered the infinite bounties of Psalms. He would not think of the words, would not place them on his lips, because they were lovely. Because they were full of grace. The thing would devour such lovely words… immediately… Yes, yes, he was sure.
He hoped Douglas knew that he loved him, though he’d never said it.
His last days, in the arms of such a resplendent man.
A brave man, who had the fortitude to live a life he chose.
He imagined him somewhere lighting a candle.
Douglas… yes, that was his name, Douglas… who probably had no idea where he was.
What if this thing was devouring Douglas’s soul as well? What if he wasn’t safe?
Jesus… the pain…
Something streamed down Jeremiah’s cheeks. Blood… tears… he didn’t know. Didn’t matter.
Help me, Jesus… please…
God’s words, exquisite things. The monster would take exquisite things for itself, would feast on exquisite things. All that Jeremiah had left to give… from his soul. Those words were for himself. To cherish, hold close… for his final time, too near.
He couldn’t remember his name…
He wanted to say his name one last time…
Please.
Help me.
The pain…
Oh, Doug… my Douglas… remember me… in our field of flowers…
Another mistake. Final thoughts… too sweet, too lovely… swiftly consumed…
For the first time in days, Jeremiah spoke. He let loose a shriek that echoed through the hospital as his stomach burst, as his insides flew from his body and the eyes that had pierced his soul finally, irrevocably consumed flesh.