The Future of Horror

by Jonathan Oliver

  A year passed and love continued to blossom between the girl and the boy even as the crops failed yet again. Her family was forced to sell all the animals but they insisted on staying with the farm. Friends and neighbours urged them to sell up and move somewhere else, suggesting that the land was cursed. No one could understand their stubborn refusal to stay. No one but the girl, who lamented their poverty but was comforted by the knowledge that now she could never be parted from her soulmate.

  Tamsin had no idea if the story was true or not, but she liked to think it was. At least the happy part. She knew she was supposed to be too old to believe in fairy tales, but she couldn’t help it; she was a romantic. She wanted to believe that wishes came true, that love conquered all. Most of all she wanted to believe that there were magic spells that worked.

  She lay awake in bed for several hours that night, her mind racing.

  In order to truly love something, you have to make it part of you.

  How could she make Nicky a part of her? The girl in the story had bound her family to the land by physically feeding it to them, although perhaps she should have tried binding herself to the boy instead. Tamsin had tried so many different love spells over the months but nothing had worked. Was it because none of the spells had any physical link between her and Nicky? Gazing at his picture and saying his name wasn’t getting her anywhere. She might as well be clapping to keep Tinkerbell alive.

  She was always hearing about girls who had date-rape drugs slipped into their drinks. How hard could it be to turn the tables? But the very thought made her feel like a stalker. She didn’t want to rape him; all she wanted to do was make him recognise what was already inside him. Surely there was no harm in that. But even as she brainstormed different scenarios, she knew she couldn’t spike his drink in a public bar. If he saw her – or worse, if someone else saw her – that would be the end of everything.

  No, whatever she did had to be done in private. And the only way to do that was to screw up her courage and invite him over for dinner. But what could she feed him? It had to be something she could sneak into the food undetected but most importantly, it had to be something uniquely hers. Uniquely her.

  The question obsessed her over the following days. Then one night while she was revising for a poetry exam, the answer jumped out at her. It was a line by Thomas Carew.

  Those curious locks so aptly twin’d

  Whose every curl a soul doth bind.

  Tamsin sat before the mirror, her heart pounding. In the joy of her discovery she looked radiant and she brushed her hair slowly, sensuously, as she focused her mind on crafting the perfect spell. She pulled several loose hairs from her brush, wondering how many she would need. But as she looked at them, curled in her palm like a tiny nest, she knew it wasn’t right. Those hairs were already dead. She dropped them in the bin and met her eyes in the mirror.

  Then she carefully selected a strand of hair from the top of her head. She smoothed away the other hairs around it and tugged. It did not come free at once. She had to pull it several times before she yanked it out at the root. The pain was astonishing. It was only a single hair but it felt like someone had jabbed her scalp with a needle. She cried out as it came free and wasn’t surprised to see a tiny drop of blood on the end.

  Her voice trembled as she whispered, “First.”

  With her fingers she combed through her hair on the left until she isolated another strand. It also proved reluctant to come out and when it did it brought with it another drop of blood.

  “And last.”

  She moved to the right for the final strand, taking hold of it firmly and holding her breath. She yanked, hoping it would pull out more easily than the others. But it was the most difficult of all. Only after many painful jerks of her hand did it finally come out. She yelped and had to resist the urge to scratch her scalp, to rub away the burning sensation where the hairs had been plucked.

  She took a deep breath and laid the three strands side by side on her dressing table. “And always,” she said. “Mine.”

  The blood held them together at one end and Tamsin weighted them down with her phone while she set about plaiting them together. She found herself humming as she did, barely aware of the warm trickle from her scalp until the blood dripped into her eyes. She paid it no mind. Her hands completed the task as though guided by external forces.

  When at last she had a long thin braid she wiped the blood from her face and knotted the ends together to form a circle. It would remain unbroken until the right moment.

  She tucked the charm beneath her pillow to keep it close to her while she slept. She knew it would bring her dreams of Nicky, dreams that were about to come true. In the morning her pillow was stained with blood.

  SHE SAW HIM the next day, chatting with his friend Rob, and she didn’t hesitate. She had dressed up for the occasion. Her athletic frame was showcased in her tightest jeans and a lacy purple top. She’d worn a push-up bra and gothed up her makeup. Smudged black eyeliner and blood red lips. Just enough to get his attention.

  It worked. His face broke into an easy smile as she walked boldly up to him before she could lose her nerve. Rob was eyeing her cleavage.

  “I saw your show the other night,” she said breezily. “It was awesome!”

  Nicky’s smile broadened. “Hey, thanks! I wasn’t sure about that Sisters of Mercy cover. Was it really OK?”

  Rob jumped in before she could answer. “Of course it was. I told you.” He rolled his eyes at Tamsin as though compelling her to agree with him.

  But Nicky was still watching her expectantly, waiting to hear what she thought. She hid her exhilaration and nodded as though she had any business telling him whether something was good or not.

  “I thought it was brilliant. Better than the original.”

  His eyes shone with genuine delight and her heart twisted a little at the thought of him doubting his talent. And before the opportunity could slip away she said “Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?”

  He blinked in surprise but his smile didn’t falter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rob’s face fall a little.

  Nicky glanced at his friend and then back at Tamsin. “Sure,” he said.

  “Great! I’m making a curry. Hope you like it spicy.” She knew full well he did, just as she knew loads of other little things about him that he’d never told her. Just to leave him in no doubt about what was on offer she added, “My flatmates are away for the weekend.”

  He actually blushed. “Brilliant,” he said.

  Her heart leapt and it was all she could do to maintain the casual act. “Cool. It’s a date. I’ll text you my address. What’s your number?”

  It was almost too easy. Just like that, the deal was sealed.

  “Well, I’ve gotta get to class,” she said. “See you tonight!”

  Nicky waved as she trotted away, pretending to be in a hurry. She felt lighter than air.

  Mine, she thought.

  SHE SKIPPED THE class she’d pretended to be late for and went to Waitrose to buy the poshest ingredients she could find. Then she spent the whole afternoon making the curry. Soon the aroma of coconut milk and chillies permeated the flat and Tamsin left the meal to simmer while she tidied away the few things Beth and Chrissie had left lying around. She closed the doors to their rooms and opened her own like an invitation.

  She placed two red candles on the small dining table and set it as though she were entertaining royalty. A bottle of chardonnay was chilling in the fridge although she suspected Nicky would prefer beer. Too bad. This was her big night and it was going to be classy.

  Choosing what to wear took even more time. Jeans were too casual but a party dress would look like she was trying too hard. She eventually settled on a flirty red skirt and a black velvet top. She admired herself in the mirror and looked at her watch for the hundredth time. She’d told him to come at six and there was still nearly an hour to go. She spent it pacing, checking the curry, making minute a
djustments to the place settings, straightening the pictures on the wall and making the bed. With a gasp she suddenly spotted the framed photo of Nicky by the bedside and she hurriedly shoved it to the bottom of her underwear drawer.

  That done, she returned to the curry. She would have to wait until the very last minute to add her secret ingredient. The kitchen smelled heavenly and she was sure the spicy brew would disguise any odd flavour. But she threw in an extra chilli and another splash of ginger wine just to be sure.

  At ten to six she put on some music and tried to slow her galloping heart as she waited for Nicky to arrive.

  He was almost ten minutes late. Tamsin had been just about to text him when she heard the entryphone ring. She took a deep breath and picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Tamsin? It’s me, Nicky.”

  Warmth flooded her face and throat at the sound of his voice. “Hang on, I’ll buzz you in.”

  She hung up the phone and pressed the button to unlock the downstairs door. Then she ran to the bathroom for a last look at herself in the mirror before racing back. She could hear his boots thumping up the stairs and she held her breath until he reached the door, opening it before he could knock.

  To her delight, he had worn her favourite shirt. It was a deep silky black with vivid green pinstripes. He always wore black but the green brought out the colour of his eyes. She stilled her trembling hand against the door as she closed it behind him.

  “Smells good,” he said.

  Tamsin smiled. And when he told her she looked nice she thought she would faint. “Want some wine?” she just managed to ask.

  “That’d be great, thanks.”

  They sat side by side on the couch for a while, drinking from the chipped goblets Tamsin had found in a pagan shop. Every time he met her eyes she felt her stomach swoop as though she were falling from a great height. They talked about music, university, films, games, poetry, life. To Tamsin it seemed they talked for hours. She wanted to drown in his voice.

  Eventually the talk turned back to Valhalla and Tamsin told him again how awesome she thought his songs were. What he said next made her want to pinch herself.

  “I wrote a new song last night. No one’s heard it yet. It’s just me with no music and it’s really rough but...”

  “Yes,” she said before he’d finished. “I’d love to hear it!”

  He smiled shyly and lowered his head as he fished his iPod out of his pocket. Tamsin took it from him as though it were a priceless artefact and swapped it for hers in the docking station. She navigated to the track he directed her to and she sank back on the couch to listen.

  It was all Nicky. Nothing but his voice. It sounded slightly husky and out of tune but none of that mattered. The song was called ‘Blood Mirror’. And he was singing it just for her.

  His hesitant voice sang about what lay beyond the mirror, what could be seen and what couldn’t. Black mirror, velvet mirror. A reflection of dreams, of screams. Then nothing at all.

  Tamsin felt the words circling her, seeking to enter her and redefine themselves according to her needs. A mirror revealed things. Sometimes hidden things. Like feelings. But try as she might, she couldn’t make the lyrics fit. The song ended on a line about fangs and a reflection in blood and she realised that it wasn’t about her at all. It was only a song about a vampire.

  After a lengthy silence Tamsin opened her eyes.

  “You don’t like it.” He said it with such dismay that she immediately felt guilty.

  “Oh no,” she assured him, “I loved it! I was just... imagining how the video would look.”

  She smiled then, picturing Nicky in period clothes, white lace pouring from his cuffs and collar, his razor-sharp cheekbones enhanced by the shadows of the gothic castle he would be prowling as he sang. He would carry a candelabrum, dripping red wax as he leant down over a sleeping maiden (Tamsin, of course), her pale throat exposed and vulnerable.

  “Cool,” Nicky said, relaxing. “I’m glad you liked it. I just wasn’t ready to play it for the guys yet.”

  “I’m honoured to be the first,” Tamsin said and she genuinely meant it. She had recovered from her initial disappointment. It didn’t matter anyway. After tonight all his songs would be about her. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Good. Put on some music if you want and I’ll get the food.”

  She left him on his own while she went to the kitchen and divided the curry into two bowls. Her hands shook as she removed the plaited coil of hair from where she’d tucked it inside her bra. She’d wanted to keep it close to her skin until the very last moment. With a pair of scissors she cut through it once to break the circle and then began snipping carefully along its length, cutting as finely as she could and sprinkling the tiny bits into Nicky’s bowl. The pieces vanished into the liquid where she hoped they would be undetectable.

  She put the bowls on a serving tray with a dish of jasmine rice and carried it in to him. Her hands were shaking but she managed not to spill anything. It seemed like a good omen.

  “Here we go,” she said. “I hope you like it.”

  And she could see that he did. He closed his eyes in bliss at the first bite and made appreciative noises throughout the meal.

  She first sensed the spell was working when she caught him watching her as she refilled their wine glasses. When she looked up at him he averted his eyes and she heard his spoon scrape the bottom of his bowl. As a test she gathered her hair in her hands and piled it up on top of her head as though it were suddenly too hot to wear it down.

  Instantly Nicky’s eyes flicked back up to her and he stared openly as she twisted her hair into a loose knot, only to let it fall again. It spilled over her shoulders like molten gold. Nicky didn’t blink.

  “Still hungry?” Tamsin asked, nodding towards his empty bowl.

  He rose slowly to his feet, shaking his head. He didn’t take his eyes off her.

  SHE WOKE SEVERAL hours later in a tangle of limbs, her hair spilling coolly over her naked skin. Late afternoon light was painting the room orange and she opened her eyes to look at Nicky. He was still deeply asleep. In his bliss he looked like a dark angel.

  She tried to turn her head but found she couldn’t. Locks of her hair were wound tightly around both his hands, as though she were his lifeline. Tamsin usually plaited her hair before bed but last night she had left it loose and wild for him. Tears welled in her eyes as she replayed the night’s countless pleasures. Kisses and caresses, skin on skin, a blur of passion. Her dream come true.

  She didn’t want to leave him but nature was calling and it took some manoeuvring to finally slip out of his grasp. She took the opportunity to clean her face and brush her teeth, not wanting him to wake up and see her with panda eyes.

  How he had loved her hair! She could still see the otherworldly shine in his eyes as he gazed at it in the firelight. His fingers had stroked it reverently, combing through the glorious waves and clutching handfuls of it as he made love to her.

  “Beautiful,” he’d said, over and over. Like someone in love.

  She sighed as she gazed at the girl in the mirror. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dreamy. A girl fulfilled. Her scalp tingled pleasantly as she ran a brush through her tangled curls, each stroke hissing and popping with static. She dropped the loose hairs into the bin and stared down at them, remembering the spell she had cast. It had worked. She was a part of him now, forever.

  “Tamsin?”

  The sound of his voice made her jump and she shook herself out of her reverie. When she emerged from the bathroom she saw him standing before the window, his body silhouetted against the autumn light.

  “I’m here,” she said, curling into his embrace.

  He kissed her head and then held her face between his palms, staring at her as though unable to believe she was real. “Last night was incredible.”

  Tamsin sighed as she let the words wash over her. There couldn’t possibly be another person any
where in the world as happy as she was at this moment.

  “I have to see you again.”

  “I’m yours,” she said, her voice catching.

  “Mine,” he whispered, sounding bewildered. He repeated it with more conviction. “Mine.” Then he clutched her tightly and pressed his lips to hers so hard it hurt.

  HE HADN’T WANTED to leave and she hadn’t wanted to let him go. But they both had classes that evening and, frankly, Tamsin needed some time to recover from his attentions. She hadn’t counted on him being such a violently passionate lover. Her insides burned with a deep dull ache and she wasn’t at all surprised to find bruises on her inner thighs. Even her face felt bruised from his kisses. At times it had felt as though he were trying to force his entire body inside her, to devour her.

  When she’d finally persuaded him to get dressed and follow her to the door, his eyes had shone with such fervour as he said goodbye that it became uncomfortable. She’d had to look away as she promised she’d see him again later that night.

  Tamsin found it difficult to concentrate. Not even her favourite professor could distract her from the strange disquiet. She was thrilled that the spell had worked and the night had been truly magical. But Nicky’s intensity was a little unnerving. There was something alien in the way he had looked at her as she’d shut the door that afternoon. After he left she’d gone to the window and was further unsettled to see him standing across the street, staring intently up at the building, his face a blank, pale oval. Not seeing her, but searching.

  But then she shook off her misgivings. Of course, he was bound to be acting a little weird; she’d bewitched him! She hoped he wasn’t wondering too much at his newfound feelings. It should have felt like coming home. But perhaps it would take a little time for it all to sink in. Until then she would have to be patient.