by Harper Lin
“No! Don’t open it!” Min shouted at the top of his lungs, making both Treacle and me jump out of our skin.
Opening the window, I turned to Min. “What is the matter with you?” I barked, more out of shock than anger. “It’s just the cat!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was the cat. I’m sorry, Treacle,” Min said, reaching down to pet the furry beast that quickly slid away from his hand and instead circled my legs.
“It’s okay, Min. Sit down. Hot chocolate it is. You look like you need it.”
“What’s his problem?” Treacle asked.
“Don’t know yet,” I replied in my mind.
I shut the window and went to my pantry to pull out two packets of instant hot chocolate. While I took the tea kettle to heat some water, Min stepped over to the window and gave it a good tug to make sure it was closed all the way.
I didn’t say anything about it. Instead, I yanked the refrigerator door open and grabbed the milk. Other than a half-opened can of cat food, a withered head of lettuce, and some eggs, I had absolutely no food in the house. I could have offered Min some crackers, but I was pretty sure they were stale.
“Okay, Min. What’s the matter?”
He sat down at my small kitchen table that had two mismatched chairs arranged across from each other. In the middle of the table was a small wooden bowl with daintily wrapped bundles of sage that I thought made the kitchen smell earthy and welcoming.
Min cleared his throat and fiddled with his hands. He leaned both elbows on the table and took a big breath, but still nothing came out.
Finally, I put my hand on his arm and spoke. “Min, you can talk to me.”
He seemed to settle and took my hand in his. I could feel him trembling just a little. What the heck was this all about?
“We’ve been friends for a long time, right?” he asked.
“Best of friends, Min. You know that.”
“If I told you something and asked you not to tell anyone else, I could trust you, right?”
“Of course you could, Min. Not a word to anyone.” I looked him in his eyes. “It’s always been that way.”
He nodded as if he already knew that. “But if I told you something that wasn’t normal, that was just impossible to believe, you wouldn’t judge me, right? Or my mom?”
I sat back in my chair. This was obviously more serious than a breakup.
“I love your family, Min. I know what kind of people they are. Nothing anyone could say or do would ever change that.”
He looked away for a second. It was as if he was studying the tile on the floor or looking for some cheat sheet down there that might give him an answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask.
“What’s the matter?”
Min took a deep breath and finally began to talk. He had gone to his parents’ house for a visit. Work had kept him kind of busy, and when he wasn’t working, he was spending time with Amalia. So he bought some fried chicken, which he knew both his parents loved, and headed over to their house.
As usual, Mr. Park was at his store, where he would be until closing around eleven thirty at night. Min told his mother he would hang around and visit until his father was home.
They had just finished eating when there was a loud knock on the door.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Min had asked his mother who, with a mouthful of fried chicken, shook her head.
Walking quietly through the living room from the kitchen in bare feet, Min got to the door and opened it. There was no one there. He stepped out into the cool evening air and looked around, but not so much as a leaf rustled in a tree. He was just about to step off the porch and look around the side of the house when he heard his mother. She was screaming.
Let Me In
“She was terrified,” Min said. “I didn’t know what could have scared her so much, but I ran back into the kitchen. She had tears in her eyes and was pointing at the window, still yelling.”
The tea kettle began to whistle, and both of us nearly jumped out of our own skin. I stood up, looking toward the window that I’d let Treacle in, remembering Min had locked it tightly behind me.
“Here,” I said, pouring the hot liquid into our cups along with a splash of milk and a handful of mini marshmallows each. “A spoon full of sugar,” I said before setting the kettle back on the stove and taking my seat again.
Min wrapped his hands around the mug and continued his story.
His mother had begun to back out of the kitchen when Min tried desperately to get her to tell him what was the matter. Finally, he looked where she was pointing, and there in the window, staring in at them, had been two pale-faced children with jet-black eyes.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Min said. “That they were children with contact lenses. They were playing a joke and just causing mischief.” He swallowed hard and looked at me. “They were not children.”
He went on to say that he’d had a strange sensation spread over him. Never in his life had a terror settled so deep into his bones that he was afraid it might never come out. “There was something in their eyes, Cath. It was like a vacuum. It sucked me in, and the terror was so intense, it was crippling.”
He could no longer hear his mother, who had still been crying and screaming. Instead, he said his head was filled with whispers—childlike hissing whispers that didn’t sound like children talking quietly, but rather how one would imagine conspiring demons sounded.
With a snap in his brain like a mousetrap being set off, he remembered the front door.
As if reading his mind, the children disappeared from the window with insane speed. In his gut, Min felt they were headed back around to the open door. He had left it wide open when he’d heard his mother scream.
“I turned and ran from the kitchen to the front door, and I saw one of them,” he said. “You know how spiders run back and forth when you’re trying to swat them with a broom?” The image gave me shivers. “Well, that is how one of them was moving. It was a little boy around ten years old, and he was hunched over, crawling on the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet, back and forth on the porch like there was some invisible thing in the way of him getting into the house.”
Then Min said it had stopped and looked at him, hissing. But he couldn’t be sure if it had really been making noise or if it had just been in his head.
“Then, as clear as I’m talking to you, I heard it say ‘let me in.’ Except it was in my head. It was in my head, Cath.”
I patted Min’s arm. He looked like Jake had looked when he’d spilled his guts about the same two brats showing up at Blake’s place.
“And even though no words came out of my mouth, at least I’m pretty sure that none did, that thing was slowly reaching into the house. As if I were slowly giving it permission to do so. I don’t know where I got the strength, but I tore my feet loose, squeezed my eyes closed, and charged the door, slamming it shut. I was sure when I finally opened my eyes, I was going to see a severed child’s arm lying on the floor, but I didn’t. I looked out the peephole and saw nothing on the porch. But I heard it scream. At least, I think it was a scream.”
I couldn’t believe this. I didn’t know what to do.
“I locked the front door and hurried to my mom, who had calmed down a good bit but was shaking at the table.”
“Did you ask her what she thought they were?”
“Yeah. I asked her. And her reply was Korean for ‘demon.’”
Min and I sat there for a few minutes, letting it all sink in. Treacle rubbed along Min’s leg as if to say there, there. The kind gesture brought Treacle a gentle scratching on the top of his head from Min and a little taste of marshmallow from the tip of Min’s finger. That was all it took, and my favorite beast was up on the table, sitting like royalty, waiting for more scratches behind the ear to commence. He purred contentedly as Min petted him gently.
“Min, you left your mom alone. Do
you think she’s all right?”
“She called my father and told him what had happened.”
My face must have looked shocked because Min clarified that quickly.
“She told him someone was looking in the windows and knocking on the doors. He was on his way home when I left.”
“Are you going to tell him the truth?”
“I’ll leave that up to my mom. My father is a reasonable man. When something strange or out of the ordinary happens, he will find the source, and if he can’t do that, he’ll pretend the whole thing never happened.”
I smiled and nodded at Min. I was torn. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about Jake and John Roy or if it would be best to keep the information to myself. One thing I found interesting was that these creatures preferred to scare men, and that was not how the universe usually worked. Mrs. Park seemed to be an afterthought or perhaps an unexpected guest.
Now before I ruffle any feathers, I didn’t mean to say women are weak. But there is no denying biology that dictates men are physically stronger than women. Through history men have been the warriors and protectors. How much more intense would an experience have to be to instill this kind of fear in a man?
It wasn’t easy, but I knew I had to tell Aunt Astrid and Bea about Min’s experience sooner rather than later. But I didn’t know what to do with Min right then.
“Hey, if you’re that shaken, you can stay overnight here,” I said.
Min looked at me as if he had been thinking the same thing but was afraid to say anything. “Are you sure?”
“My gosh, Min, of course. Do you want to call Amalia? Let her know where you are in case she’s looking for you?” I thought that would be a good way to keep things friendly and dispel any rumors that would inevitably have taken root if not tended to right away.
“She’s pulling a double shift again,” he said. “I can’t talk to her when she’s doing that because she’s either busy working, or she’s getting forty winks.”
I nodded in understanding.
“I know it sounds crazy, Cath.” Min’s voice was low and embarrassed. “The truth is I’m scared to even walk to my car. And the idea of driving alone right now is just too much. Isn’t this stupid? If I didn’t have my mother to corroborate my story, I’d think I was losing my mind.”
“Well, you know, Min, the world is filled with all kinds of anomalies. And depending on what you’re willing to open your mind to, there can be all kinds of dimensions and realms. It’s a real possibility that there are ghosts and demons and angels and vampires and… witches. They could all be real. They probably are real because those stories came from somewhere, right?”
I looked at him, waiting for him to agree.
He paused for a moment as if he were seriously considering the possibilities. But then a determined look crossed his face. “No, that’s not how it is. There has to be an explanation. You know, Cath, maybe I am just overreacting. They were probably kids pulling a mean, cruel joke, thinking my mom was home alone.”
I could tell he was really trying to convince himself of that—that it had to be a prank, and there was no such thing as ghosts or vampires or witches.
“I’m sorry, Cath. You have got to think I am the biggest baby. I appreciate your offering to let me stay, but I’m okay now. I’m going to go home and check on my mom.”
“Okay,” I said, a little let down. Min was such a good guy, and we had such a history together. But after his experience that day, if I were to reveal I was a bona fide witch, I thought he would never speak to me again. Because if I were a real witch, then those children could have really been demons, and if they existed, what other nightmares were out there, just waiting to jump out at Min? No, I couldn’t say anything.
“Hey,” Min said. “Let’s get together soon and catch a movie or something.”
“Yes, and please tell Amalia I need to make a trip to the art supply store soon, and I’d like her to come with.”
Min nodded as he got up from his seat at the kitchen table and went to the foyer. While slipping on his shoes, he looked at me a bit awkwardly. “Cath, what do you think it was? Do you think they were kids playing a joke?”
No, Min. I think they’re demons looking to steal your soul and drive you to kill yourself. That is what I think.
“Probably, Min. What else could it be, right?”
What else was I supposed say?
We hugged goodnight, and I watched from the door as he got safely into his car. The fog had lifted, and the street was slick but clear. Min flashed his high beams at me as he backed out of the drive, and I waved. I shut the door tightly and snapped the deadbolt into place, then I went and checked all the windows, making sure they were securely locked. Better safe than sorry.
Aunt Astrid’s spell of protection was pretty strong, but she had said something had used a corner of it as a chew toy. Something wanted in but wasn’t able to break through.
Treacle watched me make the rounds, his green eyes following me everywhere, his ears twisting and twitching as he listened for mice in the walls, sirens outside, or the furnace kicking on.
“If only I knew where they’d show up next,” I said to him as I scooped him up in my arms and carried him to the bed. “But they seem to just be popping up at random. Figures the little monsters wouldn’t play fair.”
“I stay away from children of all kinds whether they have black eyes or not.” Treacle purred as I got under the covers.
“Why is that?”
“They smell funny,” he said.
I looked at him as if to say he was Mr. Pot calling Miss Kettle black. “Well, that might be,” I said. “Have you heard anything around town about black-eyed kids making house calls?”
“No. Nothing at all.”
“You’ll let me know if you do?”
“Of course, Cath.” Then Treacle licked my nose with his rough, scratchy tongue and gave me a head butt of affection before curling up and lying down next to me.
We slept through the rest of the night, and I didn’t dream.
Nucleus
The next day, my aunt came shuffling into the café with a stack of papers stuffed underneath one arm and a very unhappy-looking Marshmallow in the other. Her hair was wild, pointing in all directions as if she had gotten caught in a wind tunnel, and she was wearing the same pretty purple outfit she’d worn the day before. Except it was more wrinkled.
“Good morning, Mom. I was starting to worry.” Bea looked her mother up and down just like I was doing. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said excitedly, handing Marshmallow to me.
“What’s this all about?” I asked the pug-nosed cat.
“Something about maps. She was up all night. Every time I found some crinkly, comfy spot to sit on her books, she’d move them. It was very annoying.”
“What’s all that, Aunt Astrid?” I asked, stroking Marshmallow as she purred contentedly in my arms.
“A break. The one we’ve been looking for.” Her bright eyes twinkled. She walked around the counter to the larger table in the back of the café where she normally did her palm readings for customers.
I walked over to an empty table for two and set Marshmallow on top of it, underneath the painting of a noble cat that hung on the wall. I got her a small saucer of cream and told her I hoped it made up for the inconvenience.
“It’ll do for now,” she purred.
While Bea and I tended to the dwindling morning crowd, Aunt Astrid spread out her papers and mumbled to herself.
Finally, Bea and I made our way to the back table and saw a dozen old pages of text, a few weird charts that only Albert Einstein might have been able to decipher, and three old maps of Wonder Falls in various stages of development over the past couple of decades.
“So, as I was researching our dark-eyed intruders, I became very frustrated at the lack of information on them,” Aunt Astrid said. “It seems no one knows anything more than we do. They’re creepy. They scare the living heck
out of everyone who encounters them. Their appearance and the words they speak change only slightly. But that’s it.” She shuffled some of the pages then sat down.
“But I found a pattern,” she said proudly.
“Let me guess. They only visit men. I thought of that last night. Remind me to tell you that Min saw them too. At his mother’s house.” I just blurted it out. Heaven knew I wanted to keep Min’s secret, but this was too important. “That just narrows it down to half of Wonder Falls. What are you looking at?” I asked both Bea and my aunt.
“Yes, you’ll have to tell us about Min,” Aunt Astrid said. “But can I finish first?”
“Please. I’m waiting,” I said sarcastically, bumping Bea with my hip as she shook her head, giggling.
“I found that for the past seven years, there has been at least one suicide every year, all at this time of year.”
I wasn’t prepared for that. That wasn’t at all what I was thinking, and it made my stomach queasy. A rash of suicides around Halloween? That was so sad. I clutched my throat and listened.
“Suicides?” Bea asked.
“Yes. Now, I won’t bore you both with the long-drawn-out details, but it’s what we’ve been hearing for the past couple of days, repeating itself. At the same time people claimed to see these children, someone would end their own life.”
“You mean anyone who saw these black-eyed children killed themselves?” Bea asked as her face went as white as a ghost. I knew she was thinking about Jake.
“No. No, Bea. That isn’t what I mean,” my aunt said. “If everyone who saw these children killed themselves, we wouldn’t know about them, correct? Because all the people they visited would be dead. No. People saw them. People reported seeing them. But what I think, what I’m guessing, is that anyone who let them in like Lisa Roy said John Roy had done, those are the ones that end their lives.”
“But you can’t be sure, can you?” Bea asked nervously.
“I can’t be sure,” Aunt Astrid said. “But what I am sure of is that no one—whether they saw these creatures, let them in the house, or didn’t—they didn’t have you there to nurse them back to health. Remember that, Bea. Remember your gift and how you used it for Jake.”