The Spirits of Six Minstrel Run

by Matthew S. Cox

  Thus far, the activity had been easy to overlook, mostly irritating things, the sort of occurrences that would probably send normal people screaming out the door after two weeks. But after having full conversations with a ghostly child and participating in a pagan ritual, Mia brushed the events off. She did worry somewhat at the feeling Vic, who’d mostly been dormant, might be teaching himself how to interact with the living so he could do something dangerous in the future.

  Her gut said ‘the day’ would come soon. She’d been on maternity leave from the museum for the past month and spent the early part of it preparing the house for a baby with help from Wilhelmina and the others. Weston had shown up a handful of times over the past several months, ostensibly to ‘check’ on her. She had been pleasant with him, even inviting him in for coffee. He hadn’t stayed long and hadn’t again brought a group of people with him to pray on the lawn.

  She’d been on the phone with Timothy roughly once a week after the pregnancy test came back positive. He still lived in LA, sharing a studio apartment with his boyfriend Shane. Timothy had gotten in the door as a sous chef at a fancy restaurant, but given the cost of living out there, he had about as much spare cash as a short order cook working at a diner. He couldn’t afford to head east to visit, at least not anytime soon, nor did he want Mia and Adam to eat the cost of his travel expenses. He’d content himself with pictures and try to get out there as soon as he could afford to.

  Mia stuffed a forkful of pancakes in her mouth. Four days in a row. I should be sick to death of these by now. A contraction hit. She gritted her teeth and stared at the clock. The doctor said if they happened closer than five minutes apart, she needed to get to the hospital.

  She chewed slow, staring at the clock, waiting for another contraction to time it.

  Bizarre lightheadedness came out of nowhere. The kitchen faded to white, then back to normal, only she watched herself from a distance, her point of view that of a faerie hovering near the ceiling. Other-Mia ate another mouthful of pancakes—and her water broke, gushing over the chair to the tile floor. She grabbed the cell phone on the table next to the plate and staggered to her feet, waving her arms for balance. A tendril of black emerged from the floor and snagged her left foot, causing her to slip in the puddle she’d created.

  Other-Mia went over backward, her head striking the seat of the chair she’d just been sitting in. She landed flat, her head tilted at an abnormal angle… clearly dead from a broken neck.

  Her point of view leapt back into her body, still seated at the table. She stared at the pancakes on her fork, then down at her dry lap.

  “Back the hell off, Vic. You might be made from the very fabric of hate, but do not fuck with a pregnant woman wielding a fork!”

  Mia eased herself off the chair and sat on the floor, then grabbed her phone from the table. She tapped Adam’s contact.

  He answered in two rings. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “It’s time. My water’s gonna break.”

  “Going to break?”

  Another contraction hit—four minutes forty-two seconds after the first.

  “Yeah. Real soon. And Vic’s going to try and kill me.” She explained her out of body experience.

  “Damn. Okay. I’m on the way.”

  “Thanks.” Sploosh! Mia cringed, trying not to freak out at a sensation similar to wetting herself and being unable to stop. “There it goes. Good thing I’m not wearing pants under this circus tent of a dress.”

  Adam’s muffled voice informed his class he needed to cut the session short due to his wife having a baby. Cheering erupted in the background. “Sorry, hon, what?”

  “It’s definitely time. I need you here, now.”

  “On the way!”

  Mia figured he’d already be driving like an idiot in a hurry. “See you when you get here. Don’t drive on the phone.”

  “Okay.” Sounds of him jogging down a corridor echoed in the background. “I won’t be driving on the phone. I’ll be driving on the road.”

  “Wiseass.”

  She hung up and looked around at the massive puddle she sat in. “Maybe sitting on the floor wasn’t such a great idea. No way am I getting up on my own. Still… beats a broken neck.”

  Another contraction hit.

  “Hang on, kiddo.”

  She pulled the chair around to her side, folded her arms on it, and lay her head down.

  The power went out.

  “Oh go to hell. It can stay off. I wouldn’t go to the basement normally to flip the breaker, and I’m definitely not going down there like this.”

  A stronger contraction drew a gasp from her.

  “Ugh. Hurry up, Adam.”

  She closed her eyes and mentally asked her daughter to wait another few minutes.

  Mia blearily focused on a cluster of blinding overhead lights, her body still shaking from the worst pain she’d ever experienced.

  “Hey, hon.” Adam patted her shoulder.

  She looked to her left at a man in teal scrubs and a face mask. “You’re doing it wrong. I’m the husband. It’s supposed to be me who faints when the kid pops out.”

  A weak chuckle escaped her lips. She felt like a bus had hit her, then backed up to run her over a second time. “Holy shit that hurt…”

  “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Gartner,” said a woman. “You’ve got a healthy baby girl.”

  Mia looked up at the doctor. “Thank you.”

  One of the nurses eased a newborn infant wrapped in a blanket into her arms. The little one gazed around, her tiny mouth open in an expression of awe.

  “Hey there, kiddo. Haven’t seen you in a while,” rasped Mia in a weak voice.

  “Do you have a name picked out yet?” asked the nurse.

  “Yes. Her name is Robin,” said Mia.

  The baby peered up at her, her beautiful brown eyes widening with a distinct sense of gratitude. She sputtered and spit as if trying to talk, but couldn’t quite make it work. Robin glowered in obvious frustration, then went back to staring gratefully up at them.

  “Whoa,” whispered Adam.

  Mia’s eyes welled with tears of joy.

  “Something wrong?” asked the doctor.

  “No.” Adam smiled. “I’m just umm, blown away by how perfect she is.”

  Tuesday, June 11, 2013

  Mia sat on the sofa at home, Robin in her lap.

  Linda, Rebecca, Cheryl, and Lisa hovered around her, oohing and ahhing over the baby.

  “She’s so beautiful,” said Lisa. “You must be thrilled.”

  “I don’t even have the words.” Mia gave the baby a light squeeze. “It worked. It absolutely worked. This is Robin.”

  “Amazing.” Linda tapped the girl on the nose. “You’re sure already?”

  “Beyond a doubt. She hates diapers. Tries to make a fuss so I carry her to a toilet, but her body isn’t capable of holding anything yet.”

  Robin grunted and frowned.

  “Oh wow, it’s like she understood you.” Cheryl whistled.

  “She does.” Mia grinned. “It’s frustrating for her… I think she remembers a lot, but her body can’t keep up with what she wants to do yet. Adam’s fascinated at the disconnect between her being able to understand speech but not talk. He’s not sure if it’s a neuro-physical brain thing or something else.”

  “Totally cool.” Lisa tried to play patty cake, but Robin gave her a look as if to say ‘seriously?’

  Wilhelmina came down the stairs. “The protection spell is done. That should keep anything dangerous out of her room for a good while. You girls ready to serve an eviction notice?”

  “Long time overdue.” Linda stood.

  “Thank you, all.” Mia leaned back in the sofa. “Sorry if I don’t go down there with you, but I’m still kinda drained from the delivery.”

  Wilhelmina waved dismissively. “Think nothing of it. You shouldn’t bring her down there for this anyway.”

  The women headed to the basement.


  With any luck, the banishing spell would hurl Vic into the Pool of Life, or at least toss him out of the house. The last thing Mia needed would be to fall down the stairs while carrying a baby. If Vic had the strength to throw her out of bed, he could do much worse to an infant.

  32

  Happy Birthday

  Wednesday, June 5, 2019

  The cake came out perfect.

  Mia hummed to herself while sticking six candles into pink icing. High-pitched cartoon character voices came from the living room, along with the chatter of children and conversation among adults.

  Robin had invited four friends over for her birthday party, and each girl came with one or more parents. Wilhelmina and Lisa attended as well. Rebecca got stuck working late at the dentist’s office, Cheryl was in Maine visiting family, and Linda—who’d turned fifty-four a month ago—had gone to Arizona on vacation.

  Mia let out a happy sigh, checking the cake over one last time. She could barely believe that six years had passed already. The time had gone by in a blur of oddities. Robin learned to walk super early, potty trained herself, and as young as two had started speaking in full sentences with the vocabulary of a seven-year-old. As she grew, she gave off hints that she remembered quite a bit from her past life and the time she’d spent haunting the house. Much of the ghostly period had eroded, leaving her fuzzy on exactly how much time had passed. She recalled being lonely and scared in the dark, and that other people who she didn’t get along with had been here, but described it more like it spanned mere weeks and not forty-two years.

  And she’d been astoundingly clingy, even with Adam. Even after six years, sometimes she’d spontaneously cry whenever he did silly fun things with her or let her cuddle when they watched movies. Seeing the girl still overwhelmed with joy at having a good dad choked Mia up every single time.

  Adam didn’t think it necessary to rip up the floorboards in the girl’s bedroom, nor did he want to peel the carpet back to even look for blood. Robin surprisingly didn’t show any fear of her room, though at four, she had matter-of-factly stated once, “this is where he killed me” while pointing at the floor and then said, “toy chests are stupid hiding places.”

  As strange as it had been watching a toddler with the mind of a seven-year-old, the house being devoid of darkness bugged her more. Mia had become so accustomed to the persistent sense of gloom that its absence had been distracting at first… at least until a few months ago. She couldn’t put a finger on where it came from, but had a growing sense that something bad drew near.

  She whistled to herself, wondering where all the time went. Though, she took no small amount of happiness from knowing she’d offered Robin a far happier life than she’d had before. Smiling, Mia lit the candles, picked up the cake, and carried it to the dining room.

  “Okay, everyone. Who wants cake?”

  Cheering erupted from the kids. Robin, dolled up in a white-and-pink dress, zoomed in first, circling the table before crashing into a hug. The other kids scrambled in and climbed into chairs. Two dads and three mothers joined Adam, Wilhelmina, and Lisa standing around.

  “Thank you for the cake, Mommy!”

  Mia scooped her up. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

  Robin clung to her, grinning broadly. Sometimes, the girl’s habit of constantly hugging, laying on, or otherwise wanting to be in physical contact with her or Adam worried her that she might need therapy. However, in light of what had happened, it made sense. Even if the child couldn’t remember how long it had been, she had been desperate for human contact for forty-two years. And no therapist in the world would process that story without sending Mia to get fitted for a padded cell.

  She still didn’t quite believe in any sense of God (neither the one Weston followed or the ones Wilhelmina and the coven spoke to), but more than ever, she felt like something—perhaps fate—had definitely brought her to this house to be with her daughter.

  She set Robin in the seat nearest the cake.

  Everyone sang happy birthday in varying degrees of off key.

  “Make a wish,” said Mia.

  Robin took a deep breath, concentrated for a moment, and blew out the candles.

  Thud!

  The floor shook as if someone had dropped a concrete block in the living room.

  Most of the adults jumped. The children, except for Robin, all yelled in fear—she peered up at Mia with an ‘uh oh’ face. Wilhelmina’s eyebrows knit in annoyance.

  “What the heck was that?” asked Mrs. Bearce.

  Her daughter Amy burst into tears.

  “Oh…” Mia waved back and forth. “Just the house shifting in the wind.”

  “Sounded like someone dropped a giant frozen turkey in the kitchen,” said Mrs. Wasley, Emma’s mother.

  Mr. Wasley wandered to the kitchen doorway and peered in. “I don’t see anything.”

  Mia crept up behind him and looked around. Nothing looked broken or potentially responsible for such a loud bang… but a potent sense of malice hung thick in the air, strongest from the corner where the door led to the basement.

  Oh… shit.

  “Maybe there’s an open window upstairs,” said Adam. “Might’ve been something falling over. Be right back.”

  Mia backed out of the kitchen and locked stares with Wilhelmina, whose expression appeared to convey a sense of ‘we’ll deal with it after the party; don’t freak out the little ones.’ She hurried back to stand behind Robin.

  The uneasy mood gradually faded as pieces of cake made the rounds. Soon, the children resumed having fun, and everyone seemed to forget the inexplicable noise, or at least pretend it hadn’t happened. The parents’ lingering wariness suggested the folklore of the house hadn’t gone unheard even by the younger generation.

  Mia couldn’t stop worrying about it, and kept eyeing the kitchen. She lapsed into a state of hypervigilance, making sure no child—especially Robin—came within accident range of anything potentially deadly.

  A few hours later, the other kids and their parents left. Mia collapsed on the couch, exhausted from worry. Adam sat on her left, Wilhelmina on the right. Despite two recliners being open, Lisa again flopped on the floor like a teen.

  “Didn’t you turn thirty-three last January?” asked Adam.

  “Age is merely a number.” Lisa stuck out her tongue.

  Robin climbed onto the couch and curled up between Mia and Adam. “The house is scary again.”

  “I felt it, too.” Mia looked over at Wilhelmina. “Do you think he came back?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Robin looked up. “Bad Daddy didn’t go away. He’s just been hiding in the basement.”

  33

  Peer Review

  Saturday, June 8, 2019

  Adam leaned back in his chair, draining the last few gulps of his second coffee.

  Although he loved his job at Syracuse University, every now and then, his needing to be there two Saturdays a month ‘just in case’ a student showed up for office hours annoyed him. He considered it a violation of the sanctity of the weekend. Granted, if a student specifically asked him to pop in for a meeting, he wouldn’t mind at all—the sitting there doing nothing is what felt like a waste. The Saturday hours didn’t always bother him, but with things at home taking a turn for the strange once more, he’d rather be there for Mia and Robin.

  Having a kid had its frustrating moments, though by and large, he adored her. The idea to try for another one teased at his brain, but he hadn’t yet suggested it to Mia. They’d had things easy so far. Despite her arriving as a newborn, they’d essentially adopted a seven-year-old. If they had another one with a soul sourced in the usual manner, it would be an entirely different experience. Robin didn’t do any of the usual bad things a two- or three-year-old would do: no drawing on the wall, flour all over the kitchen, covering herself in peanut butter, random fits of crying at meaningless things… as soon as the girl developed motor coordination, they’d had a kid developmentally seven but
physically younger.

  Perhaps the weirdest event had been when Mia’s brother and his husband showed up three years ago. Robin—who’d never seen him before—said, “Hi Timmy!” and ran to hug him.

  Adam’s parents had no idea about any of the unusual aspects of their granddaughter’s life. They’d visited on and off several times over the years and the girl loved them. Her blurted comment about it being ‘nice to have grandparents this time’ when she’d been two caused some confusion. Adam had swept it aside in a ‘kids say the strangest things’ sort of way.

  With no outstanding papers to grade, he spent an hour goofing off on the computer until his email chimed. He paused the fails compilation video he’d been shaking his head at and switched windows to the email system.

  The first message contained another rejection from a scientific journal that didn’t find his footprints-in-flour video (plus associated evidence of the prior haunting) compelling enough to withstand peer review. Of course, he couldn’t recreate the events of the video since the ghost no longer haunted the place. Naturally, the scientists at the journal took that as an admission of fakery. It frustrated him, but he understood. An experiment that couldn’t be repeated didn’t prove much of anything.

  Adam had started documenting Robin’s peculiarities with a notion to do a research paper on reincarnation, but somewhere along the line, he’d changed his mind. It felt wrong to do that to her. His daughter didn’t deserve to be trotted around as a curiosity.

  Email number two came from Paul Reitman, his former teaching assistant who now worked in Albany as a clinical psychologist, both with a private practice and as a consultant for the police. He asked if he could consult with him regarding a patient he wanted another opinion on.

  Adam replied with a ‘sure, call me whenever.’

  Grumbling, he deleted the rejection email, went back to the internet browser… and decided not to resume watching the fail video. He’d had enough fail for one day. He randomly searched the internet for reports of paranormal activity in the area, hoping to find a story about a site he could go investigate. Perhaps Mia would help out and they could find another spirit willing to disturb dust on command.