The Spirit Is Willing
by Joe Flanagan
The original family mansion sat as it had since the end of the 17th century, but for the first time in many years, it was again empty and devoid of life. Quiet, however, it wasn’t. A familiar presence had come back, one that had brought comfort, support, agony and protection to many of the personages that had crossed its threshold. She had been gone for a while, in a self-imposed exile—after almost 200 years of obsession by a man that she was deigned to marry, but whom fate and a witch’s curse had stolen, the ghost of Josette had many years before set him free. While still determined to watch over her eternally-beloved Barnabas, she had hoped that her selfless act would allow him to move beyond what had been lost during that fateful year of 1795.
Yet, over the span of the last week or so, Josette’s ethereal self no longer felt the presence of Barnabas at Collinwood, or anywhere in the earthbound world. She felt some comfort in the fact that the vampire curse had not returned either, but his apparent disappearance had heralded her return to the abandoned Old House, again traversing its corridors with her otherworldly light. As she hovered above the floor to stop in front of his painting hanging over the mantel in the drawing room, Josette voiced her question and concern, ‘’Barnabas, where have you gone?’’
Her heart was lifted as she heard his voice come from behind, ‘’I am here, petit cherie.’’ Josette turned, but momentarily was crushed when she realized with one look that her dear Barnabas had joined her in the spirit world. That was why she couldn’t sense him before—she had been concentrating solely on the physical universe. Barnabas noticed the dismay and sadness on her face, came forward, and embraced her. As spirits, they were able to coalesce into a solid form with each other, so their holding felt like it had when she first arrived at Collinwood so many years before.
​
Much had happened in the interim, and though the feeling was true and heartfelt, it still held a tinge of separation. They moved back from each other, and continued their observation with tear-filled eyes.
‘’How did it happen,’’ she asked?
‘’It was my time. It was a peaceful exit from the world, unlike others I’ve experienced.’’
Josette exhaled, thankful for his news. She tried to concentrate, but her mind was being bombarded with the thoughts of those who now realized that he was with them, on the other side—all those who had left the world before him, and had been intimately involved in his long lifeline. They wanted to greet him, and therefore hopefully ease his movement to their plane of existence. For some of them, it had not been a smooth transition. Josette’s haunting of the Old House for all those years being the prime example.
As if he realized her predicament, Barnabas made the obvious query, “so what comes next?’’ Josette didn’t need to respond—the air in the room changed, there were others present now. His eyes were drawn to the portrait above the mantel; it had changed into HER portrait, as it looked the night of its arrival from Paris. Looking around, the furniture was now as it had been when the mansion was the family abode. A melodious voice spoke his name; spinning around, his mother Naomi and father Joshua sat there. Their presence opened his mind to the atmosphere he was now a part of, but the thoughts of all overwhelmed his senses. Barnabas staggered for a moment, but regained his equilibrium. His parents gone, but another was there.
Faithful servant Ben now stood in front of the mantel clock, with the time just about 10.
“Mister Barnabas, it’s good to see you again.’’
Josette interrupted, “There are many others here who are anxious to see you—my Aunt Natalie, my father Andre among them.’’ She hesitated, “and there are those with whom you struggled, but who over time have discovered another path in this existence,’’ pointing to a corner of the room where his Aunt Abigail, Lieutenant Nathan Forbes, Aristede, Jason McGuire and, yes, his uncle Jeremiah stood. Barnabas’ mind was a whirl, things were moving so fast, but as he slowly adjusted and became more comfortable in his new surroundings. He realized that he would ultimately have eternity to spend with all whom he was now seeing briefly, and many more.
His ears heard the grating sound of the basement door opening, and it clanging shut. The room got darker and the furniture again morphed as he heard the gypsy voices of Magda and Sandor, as usual arguing over something important to them, but meaning little to others. Sandor put some distance between his wife, dropping a volume on the writing desk armoire as they continued their “discussion’’ into the room off the front windows of the house.
A candelabrum on the desk suddenly illuminated as Barnabas’ curiosity got the better of him, and he moved closer to examine the book. He noticed that it was now one of three that were lain out for his notice. The first, the iconic Collins Family History that had made its way across time; the second was Robert Burns’ Love Poems and Sonnets; and the third sent a slight shiver through his presence—for it was The Life and Death of Barnabas Collins, that tome from Parallel Time. How apropos was its presence, for that was now his fate as well.
Sounds emanated from outside, in front of the house. Moving the curtains aside, Barnabas noticed a couple engaged in conversation at daytime—Samantha Collins and a man he was acquainted with, although he didn’t exactly know why, Morgan Collins.
More changes, a voice talking to himself came from behind, and the room was filled with morning light. Turning, he found Sam Evans hard at work with the modern portrait Barnabas had commissioned. The work appeared complete, but the artist was focused on signing his work. Evans stepped back, satisfied. Barnabas came forward and read the autograph: JOHN HERBERT FRID—which made him smile.
The powerful voice of Prof, aka Professor, aka Eliot, aka T. Eliot Stokes, smashed into his reverie, seated in the more “modern’’ setting of the drawing room holding a sherry.
“It’s a fitting tribute to both, and long overdue, Mr. Collins.” The mysterious and forceful man lifted his glass in tribute.
Barnabas bowed—a leftover gesture from his out-of-time persona. As he straightened up, a firm but caressing hand placed on his shoulder. He knew immediately from the touch that it was the one person who he probably had missed most. Turning, her wide smile and flittering eyes welcomed him.
Looking back, of all the people he had known in his long life, Julia Hoffman had been his most loyal friend, even when she did things for him that he didn’t at the time approve of. She had risked her own life for him many times, traversing time and parallel universe to save him over and again. Barnabas had asked her to do many difficult things, acts that others would have outright refused, and while she may have had initial misgivings, she rarely, if ever, failed to rally by his side. If that wasn’t true affection, what was? Now, those thoughts truly comforted him, rather than making him uncomfortable. Words between them had become unnecessary, a look and touch said it all.
Josette was back, but the faithful physician stayed by the side she always belonged. He spoke.
‘’My mind is a whirl, Josette. So many thoughts and so many people! Help me…’’
His one-time fiancée smiled. “Our memories are but a scrapbook, mon cher—sometimes filled with friends or foes, fools and fiends. Your dark shadows have been lifted, and you are home with all those who care, with your legacy assured. You are loved here, and will be there—forever.’’
At ease with those thoughts, and buoyed by the support of those souls around him, Barnabas looked up for a final time, to find a man standing in the now empty of furniture room, putting golf balls. His sole focus was on guiding them into a cup a distance away, until a head shot photograph suddenly appeared in his grasp. Seeing it clearly, it appeared to Barnabas Collins that the man pictured was most suited to be a game show host.
The golfer made direct eye contact with him, and knowingly grinned, tearing the picture into many pieces. Then, he and the others surrounded Barnabas (and Jonathan), led by Liz Stoddard and Roger Collins, mirrored side by side with his emotionally overcome parents, in a warm embrace which would echo into our world for many years to come.
[May the road rise up to meet you, dearest friend. Our love for you is eternal. Thanks for sharing your tremendous life with us all. Safe travels.]
​This is an allegorical tale of Jonathan’s journey to the other side. I do not mean any disrespect to anyone, and hope that all understand that this is written with love and admiration. I have chosen the spirit of Josette, channeling Kathryn Leigh Scott, the only one in the story who is still in this world, as the representative of those left behind who worked closely with Jonathan, his family, and us the fans.
Joe Flanagan is an original Running Man, who raced home faithfully from school every weekday to watch Dark Shadows shortly after Jonathan Frid introduced the Barnabas character in 1967. He has been actively involved in DS fandom since the early 1980s and until 1987 was a writer and co-editor of a print fanzine The Eagle Hill Sentinel. Other DS-themed writings include Volume 1 of The Diaries of Julia Hoffman, an additional Parallel Collinwood that featured an evil Victoria Winters and an anniversary collection of The Collinsport TV Guide (a parody of programs that residents of the town may have watched and/or participated in).
Currently residing in his hometown of Philadelphia, he is a major contributor of content to a number of DS Facebook pages, including the management of The Many Faces of Nancy Barrett tribute site.