She crept across the floor, her ears ringing as she tried to pick up any sound other than the Entertainment Tonight show playing in the bedroom. Somehow, the chirpy, overly friendly, voice of the host, Nancy O’Dell, made the still and otherwise quiet room seem even creepier. When Sylvia reached the bedroom, she knocked on the open door before she leaned inside.
“Alyssa? It’s your neighbor. Are you—”
She froze. Alyssa’s bedroom, like the rest of her apartment, was pristine. The bed was made with the bedspread tucked tight as a drum against the mattress. And here, like in the rest of the house, everything was both painfully neat while also covered lightly with dust. The vanity chair was overturned in the center of the room and three feet from it, on the threshold of the door leading to the bathroom, a crumpled white bath towel lay on the floor. Maybe she has fallen in the tub? Sylvia thought. Steeling herself for some gruesome discovery, she walked through the room to the open bathroom door and peered inside.
She exhaled in relief. Mercifully, the tub, as well as the rest of the bathroom, was empty. Alyssa was not home. She turned to leave, realizing full well she had crossed the line separating concerned neighbor and criminal trespasser. Sylvia halted when she turned around and saw Alyssa’s closet door on the opposite wall. It was closed, but, unlike the rest of the apartment, which was decorated in a neat minimalistic chic, this was a shrine to gaudy excess. Thousands of beads covered the surface of the door.
The look was completely out of place with the rest of the apartment. It was as if someone had propped up a boozy, bead-strewn, Mardi Gras float right in the middle of a Quaker meeting house. Curiosity roared in her gut as Sylvia walked over to the closet. Once she got close to the doorknob, she gasped.
“What kind of crazy shit is this?” she whispered to herself.
The door was not covered with Mardi Gras beads, as she first thought. They were rosaries. Hundreds of rosaries of all sizes and styles; from the cheap plastic kind found in cathedral gift shops, to some rather expensive gold and silver ones dangling down the center of the door. Sylvia ran her hand across the beads and listened to them clack and jingle against one another. What in the hell is this all about? She moved in closer, and her eyes grew wide when she realized that it was not just one layer of beads covering the door, but multiple overlapping layers hanging thick like a rope. This is too freaky.
She placed her hand on the doorknob and started to turn. Metal scraped metal with a loud click. The closet, of course, was locked. Everything else in this apartment was unsecured, including the front door, but this was locked. Typical. She turned and headed to the kitchen to hopefully find a key. As she passed the front door it suddenly swung open wide. A dark figure stepped inside. She couldn’t see the person clearly. All was a blur as it was so quick, but it appeared to be a man. Her vision did lock clearly on one thing, though, the Roman collar around the man’s neck. As this image sunk in, her mind reeled, and everything went black.
Chapter 12
April 30th, 1976 - Pikeville, Kentucky - 7:00 PM
Sylvia’s heartbeat thumped in her neck as the air around her grew thick — like hot, suffocating tar pouring down her throat. Her feet were rooted to the ground, and her gaze was transfixed into the open trunk of Father Ted’s Lincoln Continental. Everything was deathly still, not even a light breeze stirring the nearby trees. A swirl of terrifying emotions washed over her body like a chilly rain — fear, revulsion, horror; but somewhere buried deep in that downpour was something else, something strangely warm, and inviting. Curiosity rose in her chest.
With her hands shaking, she reached down and pressed her small fingers against the tiny, fleshless hands stretched upward out of the trunk before retracting her arm back like a spring. The skeletal hands were nearly the same size as her own, and their bony fingers were curled upwards in an almost pleading gesture. Sylvia swallowed hard, reached inside again and closed her eyes. She ran her palms over the chalky, cool tips of the bony fingers. They tickled her flesh, and a smile curled onto her mouth. Suddenly the horror of her actions slapped her cold in the face, and she jumped back from the trunk as if burnt by a stove. She popped her eyes open and looked up at Father Ted.
“Good girl, Sylvia,” Father Ted said. “I knew you were a brave girl — just like Diana Prince.”
“Y-you think so?” Sylvia said, her cheeks flushing as she struggled to control her shivers. “It is very hard. I am so scared.”
“Absolutely,” Father Ted said as he nodded. “And I knew you were a brave girl the moment I saw you. I know it is scary. New things often are. But, I knew that you, more than any of the others, were the one to be called for this special duty today. I am very proud of you.”
Sylvia, fortified by his words of encouragement, crept back to the open trunk. Her eyes squinted as she braced herself to look at the ghastly figure again. It was a struggle, but she forced her lids open, if only a little bit.
She slowly and deliberately ran her eyes up from the skeleton’s feet, along its femurs and pelvic bone, across its stark white exposed rib cage, to end her gaze at its skull. She flinched as the two hollow eye sockets glared back at her.
“Can…, can she see me?”
“Oh yes,” Father Ted said. “Our Lady sees all.”
“But…, I don’t understand. S-she doesn’t have eyes,” Sylvia said as her teeth chattered.
“You are most perceptive, my child,” Father Ted said. “Our Lady is using her spirit eyes now. But…, that isn’t good enough for tonight.” He shook his head and added, “not at all proper.” He reached down into the side of the trunk and lifted out a small red velvet bag. Holding it up to his right ear he shook it, the contents rattling inside like a sack full of marbles. He lowered the bag down to Sylvia and pulled the drawstring, opening the bag. “I want you to pick out our Lady’s earthly eyes for tonight.”
“What?” Sylvia gasped as she stepped back.
Father Ted smiled as he poured the contents of the bag out into the palm of his hand. Sylvia timidly stepped forward again to peek.
In Father Ted’s hand were several round gems, all glittering in the late afternoon sun. There were all sorts of stones in his palm: red rubies, green jade, yellow citrine, blue topaz and, the most alluring of all, a sparkling pair of black onyx stones resembling two shiny dark pearls. Sylvia was mesmerized as the fear in her gut melted away.
“They are so pretty,” Sylvia squealed. “I don’t think I have ever seen anything so pretty in my life.”
“They are pretty,” Father Ted said. “After all, our Lady deserves the best. So…, what shall it be today? It is up to you, Sylvia. The choice is yours.”
“Are you sure you want me to choose?” Sylvia asked. “I am too little.”
“Who better than a special little girl to give our Lady sight?” Father Ted asked. “You have proven your worth, Sylvia, and our Lady wants you to choose her eyes for this glorious night.”
“There are so many…, I…,” Sylvia stuttered.
“Now, don’t get overwhelmed, darling,” Father Ted said, his voice dropping into a treacly syrupy tone. “They are all for our Lady’s glory.”
“But…, what do the colors mean?” Sylvia asked. “Maybe…, maybe I am supposed to pick a particular color for tonight.”
“You are a smart one, aren’t you?”
“Momma says I am,” Sylvia said.
“Your Momma is right,” Father Ted replied. “The colors do have meaning. See, the red ones here are for romance. Our Lady loves to help the lovelorn.”
“Like my Aunt Helen?”
Father Ted laughed. “Yes…, she could probably use the help.”
“And how about those,” Sylvia said as she pointed to the green stones.
“Oh, these pretty ones, they are jade. They are for justice.”
“You mean to help out with the police?”
“Yes!” Father Ted said. “You are a quick study. Do these call to you?”
“Well…, Daddy did get a s
peeding ticket a few weeks ago, but, I think it all was taken care of already.”
“Well then,” Father Ted said. “Maybe you should pick another. The stones will call you.”
“What are these pretty black ones for?” Sylvia said as she pointed. “They are so beautiful. See how they glimmer? The others don’t shine like they do.”
“Those are the best of all! They are extra special,” Father Ted said.
Sylvia nodded.
“Would you like to hold them?”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” Father Ted said.
Sylvia cupped her hands together and held them out in front of her. Father Ted picked the two black spheres out of his hand and placed them in the center of her palms.
“Wow, they are cold,” Sylvia said. “Like two ice cubes.”
“Look at them closely,” Father Ted. “Tell me what you see.”
Sylvia lifted one up to her eye and squinted. The surface was smooth, and although they looked solidly black from a distance, up close, she observed swirling currents of purple and red snaking their way across the surface.
“Cool! This is super cool! The colors are so…, so pretty. So pretty!”
“I thought you would like them,” Father Ted said. “Our Lady will be most pleased with your choice. Very pleased indeed. So…, Sylvia, it is time. It is time for you to give our Lady sight.”
“Wh-what do you mean,” Sylvia said.
Father Ted pointed at the two eye sockets on the skull and said, “place the gems in there, one for each eye. Then all will be in place, and we can start the ceremony.”
Sylvia felt queasy. She couldn’t do that. No. No please, not that.
A few seconds passed, and she remained motionless. Father Ted’s smile dissolved into a frown. Sylvia was just standing ramrod still in the yard like an old fencepost in a windswept field — neither moving or fleeing, just standing. The dappled sunlight shining through the nearby trees traced strange designs over her face. Occasionally the rays reflected into her eyes, but even then, she did not blink. Not once.
“Well…,” Father Ted said. “Our Lady is waiting. Don’t make our Lady wait too long.”
“Do…, do I have to, Father Ted?” Sylvia said. She lifted the two jewels up towards him and added, “maybe you should do it. I really am too little.”
“No,” Father Ted replied. “Our Lady has spoken. The stones called you!”
Sylvia swallowed hard again and leaned over the open trunk. She held one of the gems in her fingers and started to slowly lower it into the eye socket. When she was just inches away from the skull, she pulled her hand back. Tears filled her eyes as her voice shook. “I can't do it! Please don’t make me! Please don’t!”
Father Ted’s frown returned, and his tone grew sharp. He said, “well…, I guess I was wrong about you, Sylvia. I thought you were like Diana Prince, but, I guess I was mistaken.” He glanced up the hill towards the house and saw the rest of the party was in progress. People were milling about, other children were laughing and playing, and the smell of fried chicken was just starting to waft its way down to them in the breeze. “I guess I should go ask Sally to help me instead. She is a big girl and seems quite brave, too. I guess she is more like Diana Prince than you, so, let me go ask—”
“—No! Not her!” Sylvia said. “I… I’ll do it. I’ll be brave.”
Sylvia bit her lower lip, closed her eyes, and lowered the gem into the empty eye socket. As her knuckle passed over the bone, she felt something slimy brush against her skin. She gagged but continued to push down until the gem came to rest at the back of the skull.
Her voice quivered as she asked, “Won’t it fall out?”
“No. But, you need to move it around in there, Sylvia,” Father Ted said, his grin now returned and growing wider with each downward descent of Sylvia’s fingers into the eye socket. “You should feel it just start to—”
Click… Click… Click…
Father Ted sighed and said, “Ah, there we go!”
Sylvia shuddered and said, “That was yucky. I thought I might throw up!”
“I am very proud of you, Sylvia. You were very brave,” Father Ted said, his tone sweet again as he squatted down next to her. “You know, sometimes we need to do yucky things. Sometimes, out of the vilest and most disgusting acts imaginable, horrors and terrors beyond anything mere human minds can comprehend, something beautiful will emerge. Only something horrible can create something truly beautiful. You understand that, right?”
“You mean like a butterfly? How it’s a gross, disgusting worm and then—”
Father Ted’s face lit up, and he ran his hand over the top of Sylvia’s head and down the back of her neck. “—Absolutely! You understand perfectly! Diana Prince would be proud.” He glanced down at the skeleton, now with one black onyx pupil and said, “and you are sure you felt it lock-in?”
“Yes,” Sylvia said. “It made a sound like my bike chain does when I pedal backward.”
He pointed to the other gem in her hand and said, “Wonderful. Now…, go ahead and put in the other eye.” He winked as he said, “we don’t want our Lady looking like some silly pirate, now do we?” Closing his left eye, he added, “Arrgh!”
Sylvia laughed. “No, that would be silly. We don’t want that.” She closed her eyes again and began to lower the black gem into the other socket.
As she lowered the onyx into the skull, Father Ted said, “Our Lady was very wise when she chose you for this high honor, Sylvia.”
Click… Click… Click…
Chapter 13
April 19th, 2017 - Avalon Terrace Apartments, Apartment 102 - Mountain View California - 9:00 PM
“Are you sure I can’t get you any coffee, or at least some water, Father?” Sylvia said as she handed the priest another wet towel for his head. This was his fourth one, and Sylvia was glad she had just done laundry. Three bloody hand towels already were laying in a pile at his feet. Snowy, as if to participate in the impromptu nursing session, desperately jumped and pawed at the stranger’s black polyester pants.
“No, thank you, I think I am going to be all right now. The bleeding appears to have stopped,” Father Hector Morales said. He grinned as he added, “Although, as to your offer for a drink, I think a shot of tequila right now might help things heal up faster.”
“Damn, I am sure it would. Trust me, if I had any, I would be taking a shot myself. Several, in fact,” Sylvia said. “I again want to apologize. I…, I just don’t know what came over me. I have never done anything like this before in my life. I promise you, I’m really not a violent person by nature.”
“Well…, I should have knocked before I barged into Alyssa’s apartment. I am sure I startled you,” the aging priest said. He laughed and added, “I don’t know what you do for a living, Ma’am, but, if you ever want to take up boxing, I have connections. I coach the boy’s boxing team part-time at St. Sebastian’s.”
“You are being a very good sport about this, Father,” Sylvia said. “I am so sorry; and here I slugged you and I didn’t even get your name first. Quite a way to make a first impression in my new home!”
“Father Hector Morales,” he said. “And you?”
“Sylvia Marstens,” she said.
“Are you new to Mountain View?” Father Morales said. “I hope you are finding the natives friendly,” he added with a smile.
“Yes, I am new,” Sylvia said. “I just moved here from New York, and everyone seems nice so far.” She grinned as she added, “Even the ones I haven’t punched in the head. It is funny you asked about the ‘natives’. I don’t think anyone is actually a native here. Everyone I have met so far seems to be from somewhere else, just like me — but it is a lovely place.”
“It is lovely. This is the real California dream here, isn’t it? Everyone comes here to the land of milk and honey from somewhere else — me included. Originally, I am from Mexico City.” He reached out and shook her hand. His wrinkled face grew even mor
e creased as he smiled. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sylvia Marstens,” he said as he rubbed his head and added, “and hey, if boxing isn’t your thing, maybe you should put in for border guard. You know, I hear once that wall goes up there will be lots of openings for people with your martial arts skills.”
Sylvia laughed. “Ugh, let’s not talk about that! Last year was more than enough talk about that stupid wall.”
“Agreed,” Father Morales said. “So…, now that we have been properly introduced, I have to ask. How long has it been since you have seen Alyssa? I must tell you, I am getting very worried about her.”
“Well…,” Sylvia said as she blushed. “The thing is…, you see…, I have never actually met her.”
“Oh?” Father Morales said. “I don’t understand. I mean, I see you are her neighbor, and…,” he said before he paused and began laughing. Snowy, who could wait no longer for an official invitation, leaped into his arms and was now crawling up Hector’s chest and coating his face with a shower of tiny dog kisses.
“Snowy, no! Bad girl! Get down, right now,” Sylvia said.
“Bueno! Bueno perro,” Father Morales said. He ran his tired weathered hands down her fluffy back. Snowy was spellbound, panting and grinning as her tail wagged ferociously.
“Here, I will take her from you. Sorry for my crazy dog’s terrible manners,” Sylvia said.
Father Morales said, “Please Ma’am, I don’t mind at all.”
“Call me, Sylvia,” she said. She blushed as she added, “after all, since I punched you in the face, you should at least get to use my first name.”
“OK, Sylvia. It is always nice to be on a first name basis with those that wallop you in the head,” Father Morales said with a chuckle. He shook his head and sighed as he felt the scab on the side of his face. “I may have to fib a bit about this incident to my boys back at St. Sebastian’s.” He squinted and held his hands up in front of his face, framing Sylvia between his fingers like a camera. “Yeah…, you might end up being a drunken biker I was trying to win for the church in the final version of my story.”
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