by Dima Zales
“Karen...” I whispered.
“Ah, yes. That was it.” He beamed. “She also mentioned that tomorrow is a special day for you.”
“I told her not to tell anyone...”
“Why would you do that?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“I’ve just never really liked birthdays is all,” I muttered, eying him curiously. “And why in the world would she tell you of all people that anyway?”
“But you are blessed with another year of life.” He smiled brilliantly at me and ignored my question, although there was faint sadness lingering in his eyes, then unexpectedly said, “I want to take you somewhere, if you are willing. On the other hand, perhaps I should say I would like for you to take me somewhere, I suppose.”
“I don't even know you, and you want me to take you somewhere?” I was bewildered and yet enthralled that this boy was even talking to me.
“We can introduce each other on the way,” he offered.
I shook my head, uncertain. “Maybe some other time.”
“It has to be now,” he insisted.
“Give me one good reason why it has to be now.”
“There's no time like the present?” he suggested with a grin. “Tomorrow you could be gone, or I could be gone, and then we would never have this opportunity again.”
“Sure,” I said as I took in his words. A sudden feeling of needing to do as he asked washed over me. “But I’m driving,” I added.
The boy eyed the car and nodded. “It is probably best that way, and as I corrected myself – I want you to take me somewhere.”
“You don't know how to drive?” I inquired as I unlocked the passenger-side door for him.
“That's one way to put it.” He smiled lightly as he sat down.
I walked over to the driver side and climbed in, started the ignition and glanced over at him. There was something comforting about his presence, but I couldn't quite place what it was. He directed me toward wherever our destination was, which eventually led us down a winding road that made me very nervous to drive on. We passed a field of feasting cows near a small, broken-down house, and then everything grew into dense forest and rock.
“Where are we going?”
“You will see. It is just a little further,” he said, gazing out the window at the scenery, although he must have seen it lots of times before, or so I assumed.
I thought for a moment about just turning around. Had I been tricked by some serial killer or rapist in my moment of vulnerability from this morning's events? I glanced over at the stranger in my car for a brief moment; he seemed harmless enough, sitting there with his ever-present smile. The thoughts of uncertainty fell loose from my mind and I focused back on the road and listened to the directions I was being given.
I became increasingly anxious as we rode down the twisting, thin road. The asphalt suddenly evolved into a dirt path that felt like it went on for miles and miles ahead of us. I hadn't noticed the turn to our left until he pointed it out. I slowly jerked the car down the new path, and we were soon approaching a tall, beautiful Victorian house planted in the middle of the blossoming foliage.
“Where are we?” I asked in an awed voice.
“My home,” he said pleasantly. “But before we enter, I made you a promise. My name is Salem Young,” he explained bitterly, which by the look on his face, I assumed he hoped I hadn't noticed.
“You don't like your name?” I asked.
“I suppose that is what you would say,” he answered. “It is somewhat contradictory.”
“Contradictory to what?” I asked, confused.
“You will find out soon enough,” he said. “Your name is Alexis Hobbs.”
“I take it Karen told you that, too, did she?” I asked with a grimace.
He ignored my question, climbed out of the car and quickly walked to my side, opened the door and offered me his hand.
I thought for a moment before I reluctantly took his hand, barely noticing the difference in his skin's temperature. He smiled as he gracefully led me to the alabaster stairs. We climbed up the stairway, and I stared, mystified, at the tall white doors. The windows were stained glass images of what I recognized to be Celtic knots in beautiful shades of blues and greens. Salem grasped the brass door handle and swiftly opened the large doors, revealing an immaculate living area. The walls were painted a dull gray that perfectly contrasted the white sectional sofa pushed up against the furthest wall. Behind the couch was a wide window overlooking a lake. In front of the couch lay a large black rug that covered the otherwise white tiled floor, and atop the rug was a rectangular glass coffee table. I was somewhat surprised not to see a TV anywhere.
On the other side of the room was a vast bookshelf, every inch of which was crammed with books of all sizes. An armchair identical in color to the sectional sofa sat nestled in a small nook beside the bookcase. Beside the chair was a tall, silver floor lamp. As I was admiring the room, Salem came up behind me and grasped my shoulders. I jumped, startled by his touch, but relaxed as he spun me around toward a spiral staircase that led upstairs. It wasn't the staircase that caught my attention, but the large, white grand piano that sat to the right of it.
“It's beautiful...” I said in a mere whisper. “Is your family rich or something?
“What?” He looked shocked at my assumption, but his expression turned soft, and he smiled as he seemed to do more often than not. “I don't live with my family.”
“Then you are rich?” I questioned, staring at him in awe.
“Not at all.”
“Then how do you afford to live here?”
“You'll find out soon enough,” he repeated and turned toward the kitchen, waving me to follow.
Mahogany cabinets lined the back walls, and a black refrigerator and stove stood out amongst them. A small dining table was set against a broad window. The curtains were drawn, but the room was still bright despite there being no lights on.
After I allowed myself to admire the house, I realized how soaked my feet still were. “Do you care if I take these off?” I asked shyly.
“Of course not.”
I walked to the front door, cringing with each step as the water sloshed around in my shoes. I opened the doors, knelt down and untied the moist laces. I looked up and contemplated just running to my car and leaving this place behind for good as the sense of comfort and need to be here seemed to wash away. If this boy, no doubt the same age as myself, was staying in a place like this with no family and no money of his own, then maybe my once seemingly crazy suspicions were right. For all I knew he had found this place and killed the previous inhabitants, and I had just been unlucky enough to be the next random victim he had chosen.
Before I had time to think about fleeing anymore, the door behind me cracked open slightly and his smooth voice came gliding out. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I…these shoes are just kind of stuck,” I lied as I tugged them off, pretending it was harder than it really was. It was too late to run to the car now, and the calming sensation flushed through me again—I felt again as if I truly wanted to be here.
After removing my wet socks and hanging them over the banister, I followed Salem back inside and into the immense kitchen where he abruptly spun around to face me. “Tomorrow, everything will change,” he said suddenly. I gulped, not liking the serious tone in his voice. I should have run when I had the chance.
“I'll just be turning eighteen,” I said as I stepped back slightly.
“You will be a whole different person.” His eyes were withdrawn now, and the once permanent smile had faded. “And I will be partially at fault.”
“What are you talking about Salem?” I could hear the panic in my voice as I tried to step back once again but was unable to move.
“Don't worry, Alexis.” He smiled somberly. “Once the clock strikes midnight, I can tell you everything.”
“Midnight?!” I almost laughed, despite my nerves. “You expect me to stay here until midnight?
!"
“Only if you will.”
“Why midnight?”
“Don't make me say it again.” He smirked. I could distinctly hear his voice in my head repeating 'You'll find out soon enough'.
I looked at the simple black-banded watch on my right wrist. It was now only seven o'clock. It wasn't so much that I needed to get back home, but how could I possibly stay here with this stranger for the next five hours? I glanced up into his eyes, and I saw something alluring and comforting...the need to stay was becoming overwhelmingly strong. Even so, when I let myself think it through, I knew this had to be a mistake, and I couldn’t help continuously coming back to the possibility that this boy was far more lethal than he looked. Something blocked those thoughts.
“Do you have someplace to be?” he asked, before I had the chance to speak.
“No...” It came out in no more than a whisper as it had finally sunk in that I had no one to go to anymore. Mom was gone; home would be vacant and lonely. I should have agreed to have Karen ride home with me after all. I fought back the moisture in my eyes, biting down on my lip and trying to force myself to suppress my feelings again.
“At least stay long enough to play that tune for me again,” he said, almost pleadingly.
4
Hesitantly, I agreed to stay and play my song for Salem. He sat beside me on the wooden bench as I placed my hands on the keys. I shut my eyes as I played flawlessly–even to my own amazement, considering I had only come up with it this afternoon in school. I stopped abruptly when I felt his hands reaching across and touching mine. With a sudden gasp, my eyes flew open—his fingers were freezing! He smiled warmly at me, and I forgot all about the cold to his touch and returned to playing, his hands following the movement of my own. I relaxed a little as I continued to play, until at last the song was through; he didn't remove his hands.
“I still cannot get over how beautiful it is,” he said quietly as he peered into my eyes.
“Um…th-thank you,” I whispered, my cheeks growing warm. I glanced at my watch: 7:15. I sighed.
“What's wrong?” Salem asked, and then noticed where my eyes were looking. “Oh. Anxious for it to be midnight?”
“I guess so, yeah,” I said with uncertainty.
He nodded and slid off of the bench. “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I replied honestly, before I had the chance to think better of it. There was a nagging in the back of my mind, a faint worry that he might have intentions of poisoning me.
“If you could have anything right now, what would it be?”
I laughed as I thought about it. “Umm…chocolate cheesecake drizzled with caramel.”
Salem shrugged. “I will see what I have.” Before he turned toward the kitchen, I could have sworn I saw a glint of violet in his eyes, but I ignored it—it was probably my imagination playing tricks on me. He walked into the kitchen, tugging me gently behind him. As he opened the black door of the fridge, my hand dropped from his grasp, and I stood frozen in shock. Sitting on a glass plate on the top shelf of the fridge was a slice of delectable cheesecake, just as I had described it. I shook my head in disbelief. I barely noticed that the rest of the fridge was empty.
“How?” My voice barely came out.
“Coincident?” he smiled. “Go ahead, eat it.”
“How do I know you didn't poison it?” I gasped, letting my prior thoughts free.
The look of hurt in his eyes made me regret it instantly. “You think I would poison you?” He frowned. “Would you like me to eat some of it to prove it is harmless?”
I nodded my head slowly, still unable to completely convince myself this strange boy had my best interest in mind, regardless of how kindly he had treated me so far—it could have all been a trap.
Salem shook his head in disappointment, but I watched him pull open a drawer. Wielding a silver fork, he gathered some of the cake and put it to his lips. I watched, my heart pounding, as he chewed the luscious chocolate, and he smiled up at me. “See? It is perfectly safe.”
“Okay.” I gave in and took a bite. It was even better than I had imagined. I tried to fight the urge to eat the entire slice, but it was impossible. It was quite possibly the greatest food I had ever tasted. “Are you a chef?”
He laughed; the sound was musical, beautiful...I wanted to hear it again. “No, but I will have to let the baker at Budwell's Bakery know you appreciate his work.”
“I still don't understand how you had a piece of cake just like the one I wanted just lying around in the fridge,” I said, wiping my mouth of chocolaty residue.
He shrugged. “I told you...purely coincidental.”
“Right...” I said as we walked into the wide, open living room. He laid out on the end of the sectional, and I sat on the opposite side. Part of me wouldn't have minded being closer to him, but I felt that distance was safest at this point. I contemplated what could possibly happen at midnight, how it would change anything, and how this boy could be involved in any way.
“How long have you lived here, Salem?” I asked out of the blue.
“A few years,” he replied, putting his hands behind his head. He looked comfortable, serene. Strands of black hair fell across his eyes, shrouding them from my view.
“Did you just start going to our school today or something?”
He didn't respond right away. “No,” he answered simply.
“Were you going to a different one before?”
“Yes.” Just as simply.
I glanced at my watch again: 8:13.
“Sooo…tell me about yourself,” I said as I watched the second hand on my watch tick slowly by.
“I don't have much to tell you right now,” he said in a strange voice, “that will have to wait until the right time.”
“Midnight, right?” I laughed, but I wasn't really amused.
“Perhaps.” He lifted his head to look at me. “I'm not sure what I can tell you, to be honest. It isn't entirely for me to decide.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“It will be easier to explain come midnight,” he assured me, but I was doubtful.
“Do you not own a TV?” I asked, growing bored.
“No. I have no use for one.”
“What?” I laughed. “Everyone watches TV, or at least movies!”
“Do they?” he asked thoughtfully as he rested his head once more.
I sat and watched him lying there perfectly still, as time crept by at a slow pace. I was tired–no, exhausted–and longed to return to that familiar place I reluctantly left this morning. This day had twisted in such a way that I never could have imagined. Mom was gone; I still couldn't grasp that fact. I had a house in my name. Jason wanted to throw a party, and I made the wretched mistake of agreeing! Then, I met this bizarre, yet fascinating boy...and ended up here. How did things turn out this way? I should have woken up in the morning, found mom at her usual spot at the table, left for school, had an ordinary day, gone home, watched TV and gone to bed.
“So,” I said, interrupting the silence again, “seeing as you don't spend your free time watching TV like a normal person, what do you do?”
“I do plenty of things. A lot of my time is spent reading, hiking, listening to music, pondering our existence...”
“You do have a pretty big collection of books, I see,” I commented, eying the shelves of books. “What are your favorites?”
I could see a faint smile spread across his lips as he contemplated my question. “Hmm...I suppose that might include some of Charles Dickens' literature, as well as Poe's masterpieces. The Picture of Dorian Gray and I must admit I have a soft spot for Romeo and Juliet.”
With scarce realization, I felt myself smile. He shared an interest in some of my favorite reads, but that shouldn't surprise me – considering he appeared to have tastes beyond his years, shown not only in his book collection but his choice of clothing and his love of the piano. “Those are some of my favorites, too,” I replied. “Are
you in the drama club at school or something?”
He glanced toward me and arched a brow. “While I enjoy the occasional play, I cannot picture myself upon a stage. Why do you ask?”
“You dress a lot differently than most kids our age.”
“Our age,” he mused, laughing to himself at some unspoken joke. “I suppose I just have a finer taste in clothing than the typical teenager.”
“What about music? Do you play the piano?” I felt somewhat stupid asking, considering he did possess the very instrument.
“Occasionally, although I dare to say I am not nearly as exquisite a pianist as you are.”
My cheeks reddened. “I'm not that good, really.”
“I disagree. You have exceptional talent, Alexis.” He smiled again. “You should put that to use, perhaps make a future out of it.”
“Me? On stage?” I laughed at the thought. “There is no way I could get on stage in front of a crowd and play. I barely have the nerve to play at school in front of the music teacher. I just can't see myself doing that.” I frowned.
“You never know, someday that might change.”
“I wish I could look at it like that as easily as you can.” I sighed. “Do you mind if I check out your bookshelf?”
“Be my guest.”
I watched him closely as I rose from my seat. I walked across the plush rug and over to the bookshelf. To my relief, I found The Raven among the wide variety, but that didn’t surprise me at all. I plopped myself down in the armchair, switched on the light and began to read from where I had left off at school. Before I knew it, I unintentionally dozed off.
5
““Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”
–Edgar Allan Poe
“Nevermore,” I heard a silky voice whisper into my ear. A wisp of cool breath tickled against my neck, and I jumped. My eyes burned from exhaustion, and my heart was thumping hard in my chest.