Purgatorium Read Online Free PDF

turn over the newspaper page and show him where it says the year. I am utterly shocked at what I see.
    Well that must be wrong , I think.
    “2015,” he says. “Can’t believe it slipped my mind. You would have to be an idiot to forget that.”
    I look away, trying to clear my head of what’s happening. I could have sworn it was 1999. I’m almost sure of it. I look up to find the deer gone. Instead, there is only the dead tree. Haunted by its evil presence, I can’t shake my fear of what could be inside it.
    As if reading my mind, Sealtiel warns, “Some would say there is a door inside that leads to hell. But not the hell you learned about in bedtime stories. Your own personal hell,” he says ominously, “where a man’s personal demons lurk. They are chained and locked away inside, just wanting to get out.”
    Sealtiel suddenly breaks into song. “Where your fears and sins collide into one, and your demons play tricks ‘til your soul is done.”
    Sealtiel stops and takes a long sip of tea. The sound is cloying.
    “However, these are only ghost stories. Demon stories, rather. Not afraid of demons, are you? Or are you the kind of fellow who wrestles with them on a daily basis? Sometimes they get the best of you, don’t they? Well, that’s what second chances are for, I suppose. You believe in second chances, don’t you?”
    I feel the cold wind on my face again, and it chills me to the bone. I look over to Sealtiel, tipping his teacup towards his lips with a satisfied look. But no tea meets his lips. He turns the cup sideways over the saucer and a small disc of frozen tea drops onto the saucer with a tink!
    “Looks like it’s ‘time’ to go,” he says gleefully.
    I’m confused. Why hasn’t my alarm gone off?
    I look down at my watch : 26:05. It’s past 25!
    Anxious, I rise and run in the direction of my office building. All the while I keep repeating to myself that I am content, though I feel not as strongly as I once was. I keep repeating that I am, almost hoping it will build it back up.
    I am content. I am content. I am content.
    30 Minutes
    As I reach my office building, the wind dies and the temperature is back to normal, as if by magic. I reset my watch alarm to 30:05.
    The elevator doors open and I step into my office. I hang up my coat and turn on the phonograph, carefully placing the needle on vinyl.The music starts to play. I sit down, glancing at the glass display case that I vaguely recall once contained two pistols. I am slightly alarmed that they’re gone.
    I close my eyes, the events of the last half hour racing through my mind. Both the stranger in the elevator and the odd man in the park were exceedingly weird. I force myself to take deep, slow breaths to calm my mind.
    The sound of the grandfather clock eventually penetrates my meditation, letting me know that I need to get to work. As I relax, the elevator doors across from my office open.
    “Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock goes the clock,” the stranger says.
    Weird.
    A black man saunters in. He appears to be in his late-forties, wearing a tailored silk suit, dark violet, with a Ten of hearts card protruding from his breast pocket. His swagger and style screams ‘corporate.’ He looks like another model coming from a Vogue photo shoot, just like the rest of them.
    The song ends and the needle arm lifts off the vinyl and sets itself down on the handle. The man picks up my grandfather clock and throws it in the trash, then takes out a cigar and lights it.
    I lean away from him, wary.
    “You’re late, brotha,” he says, blowing smoke in my face. His voice is soothing and smooth. “ Raphael takes pride in the work that Raphael does here. You know why?”
    The man takes another pull and swaggers toward the window, gazing out over the city.
    Who is this guy?
    I am about to say something until he puts a finger over my lips. His similar green eyes lock on to my own.
    “Because Raphael is good at what Raphael does,” he says,