by Nicole Lee
The shelf landed on both of them. Exhausted, Rose looked over at him, to make sure he was not hurt.
They were both standing up. By the time the book case had crashed down, its rows of hardcover works were emptied, and they were positioned in the right spot so as to not be harmed. Instead, a hollow square had allowed them to remain standing. The frame had missed them and they came through on the other side without a scratch.
A period of time passed before either one said anything.
“How did that happen?” Grady asked.
She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to deflect the very event. Grady moved away from the square, and then held her hand so as to help get her out.
“You were going to cover me,” she said. “In order to make sure I was safe.”
“Of course,” he said.
They turned around and saw that a good crowd of students were staring at them, wondering what and how this had happened. Once again, before she clawed her way through a massive heap of literature and found her backpack, they moved through the swarm, each and every person gawking at them with bulging eyes, not believing how the two had managed to avoid being crushed after a set had just collapsed on top of them.
My mother’s curse is gaining strength, Rose thought as they walked out into the hallway, and then finally made their way out onto the sidewalk, where they searched for a space that was a bit more private. They found a metal table situated under a colossal tree which gave the dark green bench a proper amount of shade. They sat down, simply to try and catch their breath from the event.
Grady turned his head sideways, and took in a deep inhalation before peering into her eyes. “I have something I need to ask you.”
After hearing this, the words felt like cement weights tied to her feet. The dread of anticipating what it was he was preparing to inquire overtook the positive sensation she had been feeling within her deepest self only a short while ago.
“How did you do that?”
There was a long hush. Rose knew what was coming, and she already had an answer.
“What did I do?”
“Rose, an entire library just fell on us, and we don’t have a single splinter. At least I don’t. Do you?”
“No,” she answered.
“I could have sworn that the moment you stuck your arm out, a few books went flying in the opposite direction.”
Another break in their conversational proceedings ensued. Grady let out a laugh.
“What is it?” Rose asked. She felt that now was certainly not the time.
“My life’s changed since I met you,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. She could tell this was not going to a pure compliment so much as one laced with a but. “I’ve experienced two insane hallucinations that only people wearing straight jackets can relate to.”
“They weren’t hallucinations. Everything you’ve seen has been real.”
“Stop trying to mess with me.”
“Grady, I’m someone you can’t believe. You remember earlier when I asked you if you believed in things from the unknown? Well, I’m part of the unknown. I‘m a…”
He smiled faintly, and then shook his head frustrated, recoiling his hand. “Tell me.”
The word was as easy to get out as a nail from a patch of infected skin. “Witch.”
He stared at her in complete incredulity. Grady stood up, groaning and looking at the ground whilst in deep thought, scratching the sides of his head, both out of apprehension and lack of understanding towards her confession.
“Grady, I-”
“Stop it. I can’t hear this right now. You, you’re crazy. What are you going to tell me next, Rose? You going to turn me into a frog, is that what‘s up next? Bring me to a house of candy and show me your Aleister Crowley collection? Or is this a test to see how smart or dumb I am? I knew you were a little strange, but God, Rose. I thought you were above crackpot beliefs. No, you know what I think? You’re pulling my leg, and it’s not funny.”
“What?” Rose said, pained. “That’s not it at all-”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” The quarterback’s voice had risen. “You think I’m just some stupid jock who’s never read a book in his life. Here I was, putting you on a pedestal every day, and you suddenly decide you’re a witch, huh? You expected me to buy that? You probably think I would be eating out of your hand if you told me you were Queen Elizabeth too, right?”
“I’m not lying,” she said firmly. “And that’s not what I’m been trying to do at all.”
Here it was. Their relationship was falling apart. She felt her cheeks redden. Whether it was out of malice, embarrassment, frustration or all three eluded her.
“No,” he shouted. “You’re pathetic. You know what? I’m out of here.”
She took in a deep breath as he turned his back to her, and began walking away.
To deal with the shock of the event, that very hour she went out into the wide field where she and Grady had met for the first time.
Staring down at the acreage, she noticed how it was still a mess. There were crews of men still working on picking up the remains of the scoreboard. She laid down underneath the same tree, one that on that day had looked stunning, but now appeared distorted, twisted, and weathered.
Wanting to cry, she laid a hand over her forehead, feeling a headache born from stress beginning to throb ever so lightly in one small part of her brain. Moisture still had yet to develop in her eyes, and she was proud of herself for holding off on sobbing.
Looking to her right, the man in black was many yards away. She saw him lift up a hand. At first, Rose thought he was about to wave, before it became apparent that he was holding some kind of flame in his hand. He brought his arm down.
A fire started.
She grabbed her bag and ran away, turning around to stare at the blaze while in mid step. Doing so caused her to fall flat on her back.
She was now a good twenty feet away from the original inferno. The fire had made a straight path towards the wooden trunk. The tree was already in a shifting dome of orange and yellow. That was when she realized that she was laying directly next to another small flame. Grunting in frustration and endless fear, Rose stood up again, this time sprinting even faster, as far as she could. After her face had run dry, and she wiped away the rest of the moisture and decided to jog to the campus, with the hopes of informing someone, anyone, that help needed to be called. She looked over her shoulder to see that the stranger had gone missing.
By the time she had reached the center of campus, a good deal of damage was already done. She watched in horror as the tongues of the flames lashed out and swabbed against the back wall of the theater building.
What had once been a place she had seen an endless stream of performers, guest speakers, teachers, students, musicians and entire plays put on display for the past three and a half years was turned to an enormous mound of radiant cinders in a matter of seconds.
She was reminded of Alexis Harvey’s warning that since her mother is near, her powers will then, in turn, be heightened. Now felt to be a reminder that this was not so. If anything, she only felt overwhelming guilt, and maybe a certain fear of her own mother’s abilities extending.
Running to the office, she heard the emergency bell ringing. Soon, floods of students came pouring out of classrooms, quickly darting about. While they had always had fake drills so as to discipline them, it was a common, if not slightly cynical, belief that if something bad did indeed happen, there would be no such thing as organized lines of pupils crossing to the field, but rather an insane crowd of panicking kids rushing to the gates. This skeptical opinion turned out to be accurate.
While it was her goal to reach the superintendent’s administrative center, the hordes of people dashing everywhere in a frenzy made it impossible to move another inch without being trampled. Hysterical screams flowed through the air, and when she turned around, she was shocked to see many getting closer to the flames, so as to see
the sight of the scene.
Soon, it was raining ash. Everyone’s clothes were covered in gray and white soot. Fire trucks shrieked in the distance. By two a clock, everyone was safely evacuated. Half of the buildings on campus were now charred remnants of the past, their crumbling barriers carried away by the afternoon’s blustery current. She stared at the destruction while trying her best not to continue weeping.
Could my life get any worse?
13
When she was in her room that night, she felt as if the end of the world were near. The day’s bad luck was seemingly infinite, and she did not want to take a risk with her sleep walking, despite how she had not done so in a while. She wanted to mourn for the rest of the week, but Rose had to repress that urge, for the first, and what she hoped would be the last, time in her life. One does not begin to know how horrible the need to cry is until they are forced to not do so.
I would have given up witchery a long time ago if I knew it would result in the curse of a town and the tendency to sleep walk. All seventeen year old girls have their problems, but not like this.
Rose called Melinda. There was no answer on the other end. It dawned on her that Lowenstein had a parent teacher meeting that evening. Begrudgingly, she sent a text to James. He called her back a few minutes later.
“I need your help,” she said, trying her best to sound calm.
“With what?”
“I need you to sleep with me tonight.”
“Oh my. Rose, count me in. ”
“Not in that way,” she said. “Never. See, I sleep walk, James. I need someone to stay with me in my room, so as to ensure that I don’t do something stupid, like fall out my window, or accidentally invade a house. Do you understand?”
“I never knew that about you,” he said.
“Most people don’t. I need you to keep it a secret. Can I rely on you to keep me safe tonight?”
He took in a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve gotten my writing done. When can I-””
“Right now,” she said.
A quarter of a half hour later he snuck through her window, bringing with him the odor of a distinct cologne. She could not help but notice how nice his clothing was, for he was wearing a shirt so silver that it resembled the color of an alluring cloud, and his hair was perfectly combed to the side. He was not richly adorned along with his mundane, pertinent gothic style this night.
“You’re all dressed up,” she said.
“I was supposed to go out on a date with Jessica Faulkner.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was making you cancel a good time. Even if it was with a camel spider.”
“Well, it’s been set up for tomorrow. I owed you one anyways, after my little outburst and piece in the paper.” He sat down on her bed and stared at her.
“So tell me about your novel,” Rose said, hoping to start up a conversation. If there’s anything that could help her get to sleep, it would be him talking about the importance of his project.
A short while later she felt her eyelids growing heavier, and after she had laid down, blackness swept over everything.
14
She had dreams that night, although most of them were sporadic, coming to life and then fading away again. They were highly fragmented. In the only long lasting one, she had stepped out of her house and casually walked down the lane. Everything was perfectly normal. In the corner of her eye, she saw a grim reaper hauling a baby carriage made of barbed wire.
When she turned her head to get a better look, there was no one there - just the normal wall of the cemetery neighboring her house. She continued strolling along the chalky sidewalk before noticing a black van. There was nothing special about this vehicle, except that it had white writing on the back.
It gave the name of another girl who had died. She would not be able to remember who the person was, but the date was obvious. It said In loving Memory, from June twenty seventh to November thirteenth. The person who had passed away, now being commemorated on the back of the car, shared the exact same birthday as Rose.
She was woken up promptly when a dry and dusty hand touched her. Gazing around, she wondered what was going on. The shape of the person or thing that had contacted her was imperceptible. Its lanky body was draped in shadows.
Sitting upright, her eyes scanned the area, trying to take in all the sights that she could before her vision went out of focus. Fighting off the urge to go back to sleep, she then rubbed her eyes aggressively, seeing that she was closed in between two walls, both of which were lined with torches.
Foreboding began to sink in. Rose used all of her leg’s strength to back herself into a corner. Once her back hit the obstruction, the individual leaned forward, and she was able to finally see who it was in front of her.
It was a bare skull. Its flesh had long ago wasted. The sockets were so deep that they resembled bottomless ditches hollowed out by a frantic digger. The face before her was so unexpected that she could not help but scream.
Standing as quickly as was possible, she darted away down the winding and stone vestibule, feeling the cold concrete against her uncovered feet as it sent chills through her body. She reached a door and banged on it. She kicked it with her exposed heels, knowing that bruises were to form soon enough. Soon the large wooden entrance was opened, and it only took half a second for her to see that it was another spindly, brittle skeleton, staring at her with its sad and strangely sensitive smile.
She rushed by it in a dash, before finding herself in a very familiar outsized dining room. There were a dozen gaunt figures of bones, each of them standing up. Some were holding each other, as if danger was imminent. One by one they took immediate notice of her, each of them standing insert as mannequins. Whatever they were feeling was something she could not decipher, but her suspicion that she was unwelcome became a predominant feeling. Bounding to the corner, she tried to search for another gate, and after scaling the barriers with her hands, she found this to be an ineffective venture.
She turned around and stared the tribe of cadavers, all of which were approaching her slowly. Convinced this was the end, she grabbed a stray, dilapidated and cobweb covered cabinet in the corner. Holding it up, she knew they greatly outnumbered her.
“Please don’t be scared,” one of them said.
Rose raised her head to get a better view of the one she thought had claimed this. It was the first time that they had spoken to her. The voice sounded thin and almost wheezy. Not so much high pitched as it was complicated, as if the sound had traveled through vessels of oceanic depths in order to flow through the mouth.
“Why did you bring me here?” Rose asked. “Back to the under keeper’s house?”
“You walked in on us,” the skeleton near the vanguard said, going forward.
At first, she took offense before rationally thinking it over. Rose had sleep walked again, and her friend had somehow not done his job properly.
“I swear we will not hurt you.”
“How can I be sure of that?”
The family took a few steps back, and for a second she could have sworn they were sniffing the air, with their heads tilted to the ceiling like a wolf setting up to howl. The candlelit chamber, no matter how many pyres were smoldering in that wafting assembly room, could not rid itself of the inherent darkness due to those who resided there, and each move they made looked like a great effort.
“We may not have any blood ourselves, but we recognize the blood of someone. If it is memorable.”
Still clutching the cabinet, staring at them with an admixture of horror and curiosity, a part of her felt very sorry for them, in ways that she could not explain in these particular moments. She started to think about how their afterlife’s would not have been interrupted if her mother had not come back into her sphere of being again.
“We know your mother,” one of them said.
Watching them closely, Rose could have sworn that expressions of sympathy crossed their features.
“How do
you know her?” Rose asked. “Because I hardly know her at all. She thought of me as nothing more than an accident who she couldn’t wait to get rid of, a burden upon her life. The only reason I spent so much awful time in her company was because she wanted to use me as a way to hurt my father, to make him worry about me. When around her, I was treated like the greatest regret she knew. Even the State said she was unfit to be a mother. You know her though, huh?”
Rose took in a deep breath, finding herself oddly embarrassed at how many feelings she had revealed to a group of strangers. Even if they were not typically human. “It figures that my Mom would be more affectionate to a group of skinless undead than she would to her own daughter. No offense.”
A few nodded in what felt like whole understanding, and she concluded that this meant they were not startled by her words. Rose finally set the cabinet down, deciding that now she was a bit more at ease. The one who gave the air of being the leader soon spoke quietly.
“We know your mother because she used to summon us. She does not even know we are awake. It is an customary response of her having come to this town. We want to go back into slumber, but we cannot as long as she is here.”
“Why?”
“Your mother is a prevailing witch. It may not be fair, but she has sway over us, even when she has no use for us.”
“Do you know where she stays? Or the place she lived in the last time she was here at Lake Pines?”
“Near Ridgeline Cove, in a cave near the beach. That was the way she always described it to us. She swore that she would bring us there one day, threatening to smother us in eternal darkness if we ever offended her.”
“Sounds like her all right. Is she there alone?”
“No, she is with a cloaked man and a cat. She used to practice with a group of other witches.”
She paused for a moment, before formulating her next question. “What did these other witches typically wear?”