Flesh and Blood
Ben sat on the dock, watching the sea. As he watched the calm waters ripple in the wind, he wondered why people had to be so cruel, so mean. Not that his parents were, of course—his parents were very loving, especially toward each other—but that everyone else seemed to be. He couldn't go to the market with his mother without seeing a drunken fight between at least two men who ought not have even been allowed off of their boat. The kids in the neighborhood were all kids rescued from the workhouse, and none of them were very nice to each other, let alone to Ben.
When he tired of watching the sea after an hour or so, he started back toward the house. It was just before dawn, so his mother would be rising soon. Just as he came to the door, he realized that his father would be arriving later that day with the crew of his ship. Upon remembering this, he tiptoed past his mother's room and ran up to the attic to find something to make for his father.
He entered the attic and started going through things immediately, searching for something to fashion a small object out of. He went through box after box after box, finding nothing. He started searching more frantically when he realized that he now had only ten or fifteen minutes before his mother arose. There has to be something here! he thought. There must be something I can use to make Father a gift. He crawled across the attic floor on all fours, afraid of putting too much weight in any particular area, when his right hand hit a loose plank. The piece of wood came flying at him, but he was quicker than the board, and pulled his arm out of the way. What he saw below, however, was very interesting.
Below where the board should have been, he found a box. He could tell that it had been weathered over the years, and that it probably used to be a much better-looking craft. It was a little difficult for him to open. After a minute of patiently, consistently jerking the lid just the smallest fraction of an inch, the box opened with a small eruption of dust to reveal what looked like switchblade knives. Perfect! he thought. This is just what I need! Now I just need to find a piece of wood.
Ben was so excited to find the blades that he grabbed the box and scuttled over to the attic door as quickly as he could. In his haste, he missed the first step on the ladder, and slipped. The box fell to the floor, scattering the knives about.
"Wa's all tha' racket?" called his mother, sleepily.
"Er…nothing, Mother. Just dropped a box of sticks, is all."
"Alrigh'…just clean 'em up, will ya? I don' want your father to see a mess like that, just getting home."
"Yes, Mother. Don't worry, I'm getting it right now."
"That's a good boy," she said, clearly falling asleep again. "If I'm not up in an hour, come wake me, alright, Ben?"
"Of course, Mother. Have a nice nap." When there was no response, Ben peeked into his parents' bedroom. Sure enough, his mother was sleeping again.
Alright, he thought, know I just need to get some wood. He went outside and found the largest dead branch on the ground that he could pull behind him, and brought it to the back door. He was still working on whittling when his mother came out of the back door with a smile on her face.
"What's that you're doing now, Ben?"
"I'm whittling, Mother. I wanted to make something—" he stopped midsentence at the horror on her face. "Mother? Are you alright?"
"W-w-where did you find that blade?" she whispered.
"The attic," Ben said, slowing with each word. "They were in a box in the attic floor."
"Benjamin," she began, attempting to be as stern as possible, "put those back where you found them. I do not want to see you playing with those EVER again."
Seeing his mother was close to tears, Ben quickly nodded. "Yes, Mother. I'll do it right away."
As Ben packed up the knives and ran inside, his mother sat on a bench. "Why would you do that to me, my Father? It was bad enough that my husband and I had to live through that, but now you are forcing it upon my son, my son with your name, as well?"
The wind seemed to answer, whispering, "Because he is mine…he is mine…he is mine…"
Johanna jumped up from the bench, weeping silently. "I will have none of this. You are dead. You are gone. Leave us alone!" Upon hearing the wind seem to laugh, she ran inside and up to bed.
"Ben," she called up to the attic, "Ben, are you up there?"
"Yes, Mother," came a cold voice. "I am here."
"Is something the matter, Ben?"
"No, Mother. Nothing is the matter. Why did you call for me?" he asked, in the same cold tone.
A little unsure, she called back, "Well, if you insist nothing is wrong…I just wanted to tell you that I am going back to bed. I'm not feeling well at all, so I'll need you to do some simple chores. Just clean up around the house, alright?"
"Of course, Johanna," Ben answered with a voice much deeper than his own.
"Ben?"
"What?" he snapped.
"I've changed my mind. You stay here and clean up, alright? I'll be right back."
"Of course," came the cold voice. "I'll be waiting."
Johanna ran as quickly as she could to the nearest church, relatively sure she'd made it there without being followed. As she knocked on the priest's door, she heard a footstep behind her. She turned slowly, but found that it was only a cat jumping down from a pew. Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked in to the room when the priest called her in.
"Father Nicholas, I have a problem."
"What is it, my child?"
"My son." She shivered before continuing. "Father, I think-I think he might be possessed."
"By the devil?"
"No…by the spirit of my father."
"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair, "why would your father's spirit possess young Ben?"
"You don't understand. You don't know who my father is."
"You're quite right, Johanna." He paused before asking, "Is this where I ask who he is?"
"Benjamin Barker," Johanna said, trembling.
"Benjamin Barker?" the priest asked, looking curious. "I've heard that name before…why would I recognize his name, dear?"
"Perhaps there is another name by which he was called that you may know."
When she didn't finish her sentence, the priest prompted her, "What name would that be, Johanna?"
"Sweeney Todd," Johanna whispered. "My father was Sweeney Todd."
The priest looked aghast. "The demon barber of Fleet Street?"
Johanna just looked at him, not even bothering to reply to the question. "We must go now, Father. He should still be in the house. He said he'd be waiting for me."
The priest crossed himself, grabbed his Bible, and stood up. "There are some things I must gather, but when I am finished we shall leave immediately."
"Thank you, Father," Johanna said, standing. "I'll meet you at the door to the church."
Back at the house, young Ben was very confused. He felt like a prisoner in his own body, and couldn't understand why. Finally, he heard the other voice say he'd be waiting for Ben's mother.
"Why did you say that?" he asked after she left.
"Because I have waited a very long time for your mother, and now that I'm you, I can wait longer."
"Why did you sound scary?"
Sweeney sighed. "Boy, it's who I am. That's what happens when your life is ripped apart."
Ben realized that he had achieved some control of his own body when he and Sweeney both realized that their eyes were watering. "But, sir, why did your life get ripped apart?"
Sweeney's heart broke a little more when he heard the question, but made sure that the boy had no more control over anything but his voice. "Boy, you wouldn't understand. A very jealous man wanted my wife, so he sent me away. When I was gone…" he stopped for a second, regaining control of his emotions, then finished, "when I was gone, he took them. Both of them."
If Ben had control over his eyes, they would have been wide open. "You had TWO wives?"
Sweeney chuckled a little at the question, as though the boy had just made some sort of dark, twisted joke. "No, boy. I had a wife and a daughter."
"Is my mother your wife?"
"No. My wife is dead. Your mother is my daughter."
"That makes you…" Ben began, then thought a minute. "That makes you my grandfather."
"Very good."
"But, if you're my grandfather, why are you in my body? This is mine!"
"I am in you, my grandson, because you carry my name, my blood, and my knives. I saw you grab them this morning, and I knew it had to be you."
"Okay."
"Okay? What do you mean, 'okay'?"
"I mean okay. What you said makes sense. How long will we be this way?"
"Not for very long, I'm sure. I would bet your mother just went and fetched a priest to exorcise me."
"Exercise you? Why do you need to exercise, if you're dead?"
"Not exercise, exorcise. They're going to send my soul back where it belongs."
"Ohhh. That's too bad. I wish I got to know you, Grandpa."
Sweeney's heart, though it had already broken more than he thought it ever would, broke again. "I wish I'd gotten to know you better, too, Ben. Go rest for a while; you won't want to see this," he said, upon seeing Johanna and the priest enter the house.
"But—"
"Benjamin, please. If you listen to only this one thing I tell you as your grandfather, go rest. We'll meet again someday."
"Alright. I'll see you later, then," Ben said, and drifted off to some dark corner of his mind to sleep. "This whole having two souls in one body thing is tiring."
"Yes, it is," Sweeney whispered when he was certain that Ben had fallen asleep. "It is."
"Ben?" called Johanna, cautiously. "Ben, honey, are you here?"
"Right above you," came the cold voice. "Honestly, I'd think you'd have learned to examine your surroundings better, as you are my daughter and all. I know you brought a priest, but please let me say what I have to say before you exorcise me."
Johanna glanced at the priest, who nodded. "Alright, Father. Speak, but speak quickly. You aren't meant to be here; who knows what damage this could do to my son, your grandson?"
"He'll be fine. If you believe nothing else I tell you as your father, believe that. He is my flesh and blood, too; I would do nothing to harm him. Please know that much. What I wish to say is that I did not know it was you I pulled from that trunk; if I knew, none of this would have happened. For that, I am sorry. I will be going to Hell, I am sure; there is no other option. I also was not aware that the old woman was your mother. I may not have slit my own throat, but I was about ready to. When I knew Toby was coming up behind me, I knew what he planned, and so I allowed it to him. It was proper revenge, in my book. Nobody would have been able to stop him, anyway. Too bad he ended up in asylum. Anyway, my daughter, this may be quite the roundabout way of saying it, but I am trying to apologize for what I've done and for the life you have to live for it now. Anthony is a good boy, and a fine man. Just don't ever settle, always do the best you can. You may think I have no love in my heart, but seeing my grandson has brought out the little bit that is left. I hope you will be able to forgive me someday, but I fully understand if you cannot."
As Johanna looked upon the body of her young son containing the soul of her deceased father, she could not contain her tears. "But, Father, if you love me so, why are you doing this?"
"My child, there was no other way to contact you. Please, believe me; young Ben is safe. I would do nothing to endanger him. I do not lie when I tell you that. You and he are my flesh and blood, and I will keep you safe for as long as I can. Wherever I watch you from, know that I am always keeping an eye on you, my dear."
Father Nicholas stepped forward. "Mr. Barker, I hate to interrupt you, but there is a young boy waiting for his body back, and we would much appreciate if you would vacate it. If you do not do so willingly, I will be forced to exorcise you, and I don't think anyone wants that."
Barker sighed. "Yes, I suppose you are correct. Johanna, remember what I said. Please find it in your heart to forgive me." With that, the body of her son crumbled to the floor, and Johanna rushed to him.
"Ben?" she asked, lightly smacking her son's cheeks. "Ben, are you alright? Ben?"
The priest stepped back. "Johanna, my dear, I think I'll leave you to your son. Anthony will be here soon, and I will be there to meet him, don't worry. He'll be here in a tick."
Johanna said nothing, just nodded, and Father Nicholas left.
"Well, Father, maybe someday I will…but today is not that day."