The Cornelius Saga Boxed Set

by Tanya R. Taylor

  For a while, no one spoke, then Sara gently pushed her plate aside which still had another half of a turkey sandwich on it. “As usual, Mira, you’ve managed to switch the conversation from you to me. We were talking about how you ought to leave this new stuff you’ve started digging into alone, when all of a sudden the focus switched to me and my nightmares! This is ridiculous. I’m going to say this once. I don’t have a problem that I can’t deal with, so I’m not going to see a therapist or anyone else for that matter. If somehow I awake you in the middle of the night, it’s just a dream; ignore me and go back to sleep. I’m fine. I may look older because I am older — there’s nothing odd about that. I want you to concentrate on yourself and Rosie and what’s best for you both. I’ll be all right.” She put the strap of her purse on her arm. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving now. I need to make a few stops before heading home. See you later at the house, okay?”

  Mira was taken aback by her mother’s abrupt behavior. “Okay, Mom,” she replied. “See you later.”

  Sara got up and left the diner. As Mira watched her walk to the parking lot, her cell phone rang. Bobby’s name appeared on the caller ID.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  “Hey yourself. How are you doing?” he asked, while searching a top cabinet at the office for a tool he needed.

  “Cool. Just sitting here at Phil’s after Mom walked out on me.”

  “She did?”

  “Yup. She’s just not acting much like herself lately, ever since…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Mira checked her wristwatch, then stood up. “I’ll talk to you about it later, Bobby. Gotta get back to the clinic.”

  “Okay. I’ll stop by your house after work.”

  “Um…no. I’ll come by you after five.”

  Mira ended the call as she exited the diner, and walked over to her car. As she was about to insert the key into the door, her peripheral vision caught sight of something over to her left. It looked like a trail of blood that she hadn’t noticed when she first parked there. It started only a few inches from her back tire and stretched across the asphalt pavement, ending in the very spot where Sara’s car had been parked. Fixing her purse on her shoulder, Mira knelt down next to the trail and scooped up a small bit with her finger. From the smell of it, she was sure it was fresh blood. It was then that she had an agonizing feeling in the pit of her gut and heard what sounded like muffled screams and disembodied voices. Dropping her purse to the ground, she pressed her hands against her ears. The cries were heart-wrenching and the faces which soon surfaced in her mind’s eye were filled with terror.

  2

  _________________

  Now seated behind the wheel of the car, Mira pulled out her cell and quickly phoned her mother.

  “Mom, are you all right?” she asked.

  Baffled, Sara replied, “Of course I’m all right. I just left you five minutes ago, remember?”

  Mira breathed a sigh of relief. “I was just… checking up on you. That’s all.”

  “Why, thank you, Sweet Pea, but there’s no need for you to worry about me. I’m fine as can be.”

  Mira hoped she was right, but something indicating the opposite of that confession silently nagged at her.

  She pulled onto the main road and headed back to work. In the meantime, she knew it was mandatory that she clear her head of those things which bothered her since her patients would require her full attention, without the slightest distraction. She pushed in the CD labeled classical and soothing music oozed through the car’s speakers during her drive to the clinic.

  “Doctor Cullen! It’s so good to see you!” Vince Macinroy exclaimed from his seat in the waiting room.

  Mira had just walked in and she went over to him. “Hi, Vince. How are you today?”

  “Doing quite well.”

  “It’s been a long time, huh? That’s not a bad thing.” She smiled. “Means you’ve been following my instructions?”

  “To the T.”

  “Excellent! See you in a bit.”

  Vince felt good inside whenever he got to see Dr. Mira Cullen. After all, she was the one that saved his life after he’d suffered a major heart attack on the way to the clinic for a simple routine check-up four years earlier. His ex-wife, Samantha, had brought him in just in time. Every day since then, he sent up a prayer for his favorite doctor and her family, keeping them near to his heart.

  “Mister Bryant Sylvester phoned for you while you were out,” the new receptionist, Brenda Scrivens, told Mira as she passed by. “I put a note on your desk, but he said to inform you as soon as you got in.”

  Doctor Barns, who was sole proprietor of The Caring Hands Clinic, had hired Brenda, a part-time college student, on a contractual basis. She was studying Corporate Law and the expenses associated with earning that degree were quite hefty. She’d worked at the supermarket he frequented, and as time went on, he was very much impressed by her drive and professionalism. After several chats about life and work, he decided to offer her a position at the clinic which also came with better pay. Brenda jumped at the opportunity. It wouldn’t have taken her eighteen-year-old brain any extended period of time to decide if leaving behind eight bucks an hour at the supermarket for eleven at the clinic would be a good move. Couldn’t beat it. Besides, Barns offered her flextime so she could work around her school hours, which was not an option at her previous job.

  Mira leaned on the counter. “Is he a patient?”

  “Not sure, but it doesn’t sound so,” Brenda said.

  “How’s that?”

  “He said he needed your help with something.”

  “Guess it’s another one, huh?”

  Brenda knew precisely where she was coming from. “I believe so, Doctor Cullen. By the way… these are for you too.” She retrieved a stack of around thirty pink message slips.

  Mira shook her head. Only since returning to work after the long leave did she begin receiving an influx of messages. She quickly discovered that most of the callers had no interest in her services as a physician. They often expressed needing her insight into some apparent paranormal activity which was reportedly occurring in their home or work space. Often, she would decline paying them a visit as most times, she sensed there was nothing going on which couldn’t be explained. Then there’s Bryant Sylvester. She decided to make that call later.

  “How many patients are here to see me, other than Vince Macinroy?” she asked.

  Brenda carefully checked the register. “Just three. The others haven’t specified you or Doctor Barns.”

  Mira saw patients until a quarter to five, then sat at her desk, eyeing the message slip Brenda had put there hours earlier with Bryant Sylvester’s name scribbled on it. “This has become ridiculous,” she muttered. It wasn’t enough that she’d practically changed her home phone number twice that same year due to the influx of calls requesting her psychic assistance. Now, they were calling at work and she knew she needed a plan. Barns was well aware of it and left it to her to handle. Furthermore, she was more like his right hand instead of a regular employee. Nearly two years without her, he’d felt lost. Now, she was back and so were the calls that had nothing to do with his line of practice.

  She picked up the handset and dialed the number.

  A few rings later, someone answered.

  “Bryant Sylvester?”

  There was a slight pause on the other line. “Yes, this is he.”

  “Doctor Cullen returning your call.”

  Mira heard his heavy sigh.

  “Doctor Cullen, I’m so glad you called. I was wondering if I can come and meet with you as there’s something really important I need to discuss with you.

  “What is this about?” Mira was dreading the answer.

  “I… I mean… my wife and I just recently moved into this old house. We found it in a pretty nice neighborhood a few months ago and decided to make an offer for it. Well, I think we might’ve made a serious mistake.”


  Bryant’s last sentence grasped her attention. She heard the fear in his voice.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “A lot’s been going on. Things neither of us can explain. My poor wife hasn’t slept a wink in days and I barely get in a couple of hours each night. I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could think of was to get in touch with you somehow and maybe you could tell us what’s going on in here and what we can do to fix it.”

  “Mister Sylvester, I feel for you and your wife, but I’m not a ghost buster; I’m a doctor. Maybe you should get in touch with a paranormal investigator to see what might be happening in your home.”

  “I’ve done that, Doctor Cullen. Called the only one in town about a week ago,” he said.

  “And what happened?”

  “He took sick really bad the night he was supposed to come, and his wife said he’s barely responsive to her. Just sits around with a blank stare on his face most of the time. Strange. Doctors have no explanation for, I guess, what you can call the trance he’s in, but his wife said nothing like that has ever happened to him before. See, it was only after he spoke with me that very morning and agreed to come here to the house that he suddenly took ill.” Bryant shifted the curtain he was standing nearby to the side. He thought sure he’d seen something dark sprint across the yard. Looking outside, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. It was quiet. Terribly quiet.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Mira replied.

  Suddenly, Bryant heard a whooshing sound behind him and he quickly turned around. Still holding the telephone to his ear, his hand was now trembling. He stood in a room approximately ten feet long by twelve feet wide, sparsely furnished. The open closet was small with a few articles of clothing hanging inside of it. No one else was in the house, as Lucille had left for the pharmacy less than a half hour earlier.

  “Mister Sylvester… are you all right?” Mira asked.

  He moved toward the closet as the long phone cord trailed behind him. The closet appeared unoccupied, but he had to get closer— just to make sure.

  “Yeah. I’m all right.” He stood in front of it, looking down, from side to side, then up toward the single shelf which sat on top of the iron rod.

  Walking over to the door, he peeped out into the hallway and said: “Look Doc, there’s something else…”

  Mira was waiting.

  “I really wanted to meet with you to discuss this, but I understand you’re busy and all. I just thought that once you were able to look me in the face, you’d know what I’m about to tell you is the truth. It’s gonna sound really, really strange and I didn’t want you to think I’m a nut or anything like that. Anyway…” he sighed, “here goes – My wife and I have also been attacked.”

  “Attacked?” Mira’s interest was now piqued.

  “Yeah. Kicked, scraped, cut, jabbed in the pit of our stomachs and on our backs. You name it.”

  She sat back in her chair. “That sounds serious.”

  “I reckon it is. Doctor Cullen, I know this might be putting you a lot out of your way, but I wouldn’t have called if we didn’t desperately need your help. If we had the money to move to another place, we would’ve been gone from the second day we got here. All of our life savings were invested in this house.”

  Mira couldn’t help but feel the guy’s pain. She arched her brows, then shook her head, wanting to kick herself for allowing herself to be drawn into this sort of thing again. Never once did she look for ghosts, but somehow, some way, via some means, they always found her.

  “Okay, Mister Sylvester…”

  “Please call me Bryant,” he interjected, “...and my wife is Lucille.”

  “Okay, Bryant. I’ll see if I can come by tomorrow morning, if that’s okay,” she said.

  “Yes! Yes it is.” He lit up like a candle. His frame still facing the doorway. “That would be great. Thanks so much for agreeing to come. You don’t know how much this means to us.”

  “I can’t promise you anything though.” Mira wanted to make that clear.

  “I understand.” He was nodding and smiling — relieved that some help will be coming soon.

  Mira jotted down the directions he gave to his house and before she hung up the phone, Bryant said, “Doctor Cullen… just be careful okay?”

  “I will. Thanks Bryant.”

  3

  _________________

  Mira pulled up onto the carport behind Bobby’s blue ’89 Dodge pick-up. He was standing at the door with open arms.

  “You’re trying to squeeze the life right out of me; is that it?” She kicked off her shoes and found the nearest chair to stretch out in.

  “Tired, huh?” He shut the door behind them.

  “Exhausted is more like it.”

  Bobby could see the weariness in her eyes. He knew she worked hard at that clinic and oftentimes put in more hours than she got paid for. Parking on the sofa on the other side of the black and white coffee table, he said: “Had a lot of patients to see, huh?”

  “Not more than usual.” She rested her hand on her forehead. “I haven’t been getting as much sleep these days.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Mom’s been having crazy nightmares and she’s been making noises in her sleep.”

  “For how long?”

  “Several months now.”

  Bobby grimaced. “Several months? You never mentioned this before.”

  “I know. Guess it’s out of hand now so…” She slowly sat up. “She won’t talk about it and won’t get any help. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “It’s really unlike your mother to not talk about things, especially with you,” he noted.

  “Yeah. That’s why I feel like I’m stumped and don’t know how to help her. At least I get back to sleep. She barely gets any. It’s evident by those little bags forming under her eyes as of late.” She sighed. “Anyway—enough of my problems. How are you?”

  He got up off the sofa and sat down next to her on the couch. “I’m okay.”

  “Just okay? Everything is perfect in your little world?” She was searching his eyes.

  He eased closer to her and held her chin as he planted a kiss on her lips. “I’m doing great,” he whispered.

  “You are?” she whispered back, realizing Bobby was now getting his way with her.

  “Uh huh.” He kissed her again, this time more passionately.

  She pulled back moments later, and cleared her throat. “I’m hungry. Anything here to eat?”

  Bobby couldn’t believe this girl. What it took to get her in the mood would probably cause the moon to turn green.

  “Yeah, I have…”

  “Never mind. I’ll see.” She got up and went into the kitchen. He followed her.

  Mira opened the refrigerator and pulled out a fried chicken drumstick. “How old?” she asked him, holding the plate.

  “Had that for dinner yesterday,” he said, at the door.

  “Cool.” She pushed it into the microwave and waited for it to heat up.

  “Mira…”

  “Yep?” She kept her eyes on the microwave’s timer.

  “When are we going to talk about us getting married?”

  She didn’t reply.

  “We’ve been doing this same routine for years. What would it take for you to commit to me?” He walked up to her. “I love you, Mira. I want to make you my wife.”

  Grabbing the plate out of the microwave, she said: “I love you too.”

  He took her hand. “Well, marry me then! If you don’t want anything big and fancy it doesn’t have to be. Whatever you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Bobby…”

  He took the plate away from her and rested it on the counter, then gently cupped her face with his strong hands. “When you were in that car accident, I realized I almost lost you. You don’t know how the very thought of that tortured me. I was thinking I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I love you and how my heart beats ins
ide every day just for you.”

  Tears were brimming in Mira’s eyes. It was the first time, he’d seen her cry.

  Taking her hands, he got down on one knee. “Please be my wife.”

  Tears were now streaming down her cheeks and she held his face. She leaned down and lovingly kissed him on the lips.

  “Please, say yes.” He pleaded.

  Every time she looked at him, she felt butterflies, but had mastered how to hide how deeply she’d fallen for him.

  Mira took his hands again and helped him up. “Bobby…”

  “Just a yes or no,” he told her, now standing and looking directly into her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said as she embraced him.

  He pulled away to get a look at her again. “What did you say?”

  “I said yes.” She nodded.

  He snatched her off her feet and hugged her tightly, swirling her around. “I can’t believe you said yes!” He exclaimed. “You finally said yes! I’m going outside and telling the whole neighborhood the good news.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” She quickly grabbed hold of him. “Bobby, I want you to listen to me. I agree to marry you, but not right now and I don’t want us to tell anybody just yet. This thing has to soak in, you know. I need some time for that to happen and to come to terms with my own thoughts.”

  “When then?” he seemed slightly deflated. “How much time do you need? A couple of months? A year?”

  “Maybe a couple of months.”

  He was smiling again. “A couple of months is fine. We can start planning whenever you’re ready. What’s important is you said yes.”

  She too was smiling.

  “You can’t imagine how that makes me feel, Mira. I love you so much!” He hugged her again.

  “Okay, enough of that!” She pulled away moments later. “I told you I’m hungry.” She picked up the plate with the fried chicken and returned to the couch.