by Kipjo Ewers
“What about mediums and people who speak to the dead?” Fred asked.
“Mostly rubbish my child,” she snorted with a wave of her hand. “Best case scenario, they are using the questions that they ask people to formulate and come to the answer the person wants to hear, or an angel is speaking to them. Worst case scenario, they are either talking to the damned or a demon, as stated in Luke Chapter Sixteen, Verse Thirty-One …”
“If they won't listen to Moses and the prophets, they won't listen even if someone rises from the dead,” Fred recited the scripture before she did.
“No one receives an answer from those who cross over my boy because those in Heaven are too busy enjoying everlasting paradise, while those in Hell are too busy screaming and suffering from eternal torment.”
“But you do.”
“Well I am also not a mere medium my son,” Ms. Santiago scoffed sitting up with confidence. “Being a white witch born with a veil allows me to see and speak to spirits. I was taught early the rules of non-interaction by my tía who was also a white witch. I knew Mary had not passed on, but I was bound by those laws not to divulge this to you. From time to time she would stop by my apartment. We couldn’t speak to one another, but I could feel her sitting next to me watching television.”
The mist formed around Ms. Santiago’s eyes. She raised her glasses to wipe away the sadness with her fingers.
“Such a strong, stubborn child, she almost forced me to use a banishing spell on her when she broke the rules to speak to me.”
“So …Mary almost damned herself to save me,” Fred concluded lowering his head.
“Yes,” Ms. Santiago answered with a sigh.
“But if she was hiding within the doll all this time, how come she could both see and talk to me at places like my office?”
“Her core spirit hid within the doll,” Ms. Santiago explained. “It did not limit her ability of sight which for a spirit is anywhere they had ever traveled to in their lifetime. Focusing her thought to communicate through your phone is mere child’s play for spirits or anyone with knowledge of the mystics.”
Fred pulled out his buzzing phone to see the words “See?” on it. He looked up with amazement as Ms. Santiago gave him a devilish smile before continuing her explanation.
“This house and the doll were the only things protecting her from the demonic forces lurking around. The only thing that saved her the night Magda took over the body was the explicit pact she made with the demon.”
“She made a pact that night?” Fred asked with a nervous tone.
“Two pacts to be exact, the first pact was an agreement that the demon would bring no harm to you in any way, shape, or form if she agreed to relinquish the body to Magda. Only another human spirit could control the doll similar to Mary, and Magda’s pact with the demon gave her the demonic strength to overcome the binding spell that would cast out other spirits out who were not ritually bonded to the doll. Magda didn’t make a pact with Mary, which is why she tried to kill you that night for attempting to get in her way. The second pact she made with the demon was to give her a head start, the devil agreed that it, nor any other demon, damned spirit, or hell hound would not touch her for one exact Earth hour after she relinquished the doll body. Demons are bound by the pacts they agree to.”
Her blunt answer made Fred choke as he began to turn pale.
“A smart girl,” Ms. Santiago chuckled. “Had she not specified the exact terms of the pacts she made, she would have been taken along with Magda that very night, time moves slower in hell, an hour on Earth is actually thirty seconds there. She must have had faith it was enough time to stop and remove Magda from the doll so that she could re-enter it for the binding spell to protect her.”
A cold sweat washed over Fred as his mind wandered back to that night and how things could have gone differently. It sparked a bit of anger toward Ms. Santiago which came out through his tone.
“Why …would you allow her to do something …so reckless?”
“Apparently you did not hear me when I said, I did not want to do it,” Ms. Santiago answered back with a stern motherly tone. “But Mary lost all reason the second she saw you teetering toward infinite danger. It wasn’t just the poor eating and sleepless nights was it Fred?”
Fred sunk back into his chair with a defeated look of shame while stroking his goatee. Unbeknownst to him, she was forced to watch him abusing the various prescription medications for his depression and sleeping issues, sometimes with hard liquor. Fred lied to Jennifer’s face, he was too afraid to hang himself, and he did not own a gun, but accidentally overdosing was something he could have handled.
Aside from some late morning starts, he was amazed how well he hid it all away from the rest of the world until he realized someone or something was always watching him.
“Despair gives the enemy great power,” Santiago softened her tone as she leaned forward resting her hand on top of his hand. “It gives them the strength to prey on the weak in spirit. Knowing this, Mary placed her salvation on the line to keep you from the pit and to also keep her promise to your mother.”
“Promise?” Fred asked as he shook his head caught off guard. “What promise?”
Ms. Santiago answered him with a simple smile.
“She promised her, that she would do everything in her power to make sure, she saw you again.”
Fred emitted a nervous chuckle as the tears burst from his eyes. His hand trembled as he placed it under his chin. The final revelation proved more than Fred could handle. It also answered a lot of questions; Mary wasn’t the religious type, but eight months after his mother passed, he caught her from time to time sitting in her spot reading the house bible. A full year after that they began attending church on Sunday regularly, and eventually, she got baptized.
Fred was to be baptized the second Sunday after her death. It never happened, and his foot never entered a church again.
“So …what happened the night she passed on?” Fred asked with a cracked voice. “Why was she not taken?”
“As I said,” Ms. Santiago smirked. “Demons are granted some privileges here and there, but in the end, God always has the final word. And He is a great Champion of love that is why He created it in the first place. The Harvest Moon was the day after your anniversary. She had planned to go quiet that night and make you believe she had passed on, and then wait to be taken the next evening. Neither one of us foresaw that the Heavenly Father had an anniversary gift for the both of you that night.”
Fred glanced upward as his mind attempted to process what he was being told. He accepted that it would take some time to come to terms with what he went through, and asked her one final question meant as a small joke.
“Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is Alchemy's First Law of Equivalent Exchange.” He recited. “So, what did you lose in exchange for casting the spell?”
“Nothing of importance my dear boy,” She smiled, “Nothing of importance.”
One year after Ms. Santiago cast the binding spell breaking the law of interaction, she lost her eyesight forever.
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
Fred made sure he fulfilled one final promise. The same night that she passed on, Mary left him one last text message. Revealing to him what Magda said before she was taken away. She told her the name of the hired hit woman who killed her, where she resided, and where the murder weapon was.
Because the crime Fred got convicted of was related to Magda’s husband, there was no way he would get the authorities to listen to any evidence he brought to their doorstep. Lucky for him, Cynthia who was a law attorney was more than willing to help him get justice for her.
Cynthia having a good working relationship with the district attorney was able to give a tip to him. The authorities in turn located the gun and arrested the killer, who in turn flippe
d on both Magda’s husband who paid her, and Magda’s former best friend who found her for him to get a reduced sentence.
Both were charged with conspiracy to commit first-degree murder.
It was a bitter sweet victory because even though justice was served, Magda would forever be in torment somewhere for the deal that she made.
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
A polite knock at the open door took Fred out of his memories. A misty-eyed Ms. Santiago stood with her hands clasped fighting to keep a chipper smile on her face.
“Giving her back to you in one-piece Ms. Santiago,” Fred smiled while walking over to her.
“It’s only wood and stone, my dear boy, easily replaced. Beautiful people like you and Mary …are hard to find.”
Fred walked into her maternal embrace, which he reciprocated making it impossible for her to hold back her tears.
“I’m so going to miss you,” she sniffled.
“I’m going to miss you more,” He returned. “Thank you for everything.”
“I promised your mom the day I met her, that I would look after you.” She whispered. “As long as I am alive, this will always be your second home. You hear me? Don’t ever be a stranger.”
“Yes ma’am,” he nodded. “You have my word.”
As they finally broke their embrace, Fred pulled out his apartment keys from his pocket placing them in her palm.
“Go live your life,” Ms. Santiago instructed. “And don’t you worry, she’s now in a far better place, and will be waiting for you when your time comes.”
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
A couple of minutes later, Fred walked outside to Barney leaning up against his brand-new replacement Jeep Grand Cherokee. This time he went with the SRT package in red velvet pearl and black leather interior. In front of his vehicle was the moving truck with the possessions he was taking with him.
“The end of an era,” Barney sighed.
“Dude, I’m moving into my own house, not leaving the state.”
“You know me, not a big fan of change,” he shrugged.
“Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s necessary,” Fred said as he turned to look up at the window of his former apartment.
“So, at the bottom of which bay am I dumping this stuff?” Barney asked with a comical grin.
“Keep playing with me,” Fred wagged a finger at him. “Cynthia will be filing a missing person’s report by tonight if you don’t drive my stuff straight to my house.”
“Yeah, yeah …” Barney rolled his eyes. “How long you gonna be.”
“Not long, twenty minutes top. V and Hank should be at the house already.”
“Still don’t know why you’re getting rid of it,” Barney glanced into the window of the passenger seat. “You might need it for those lonely nights just until you get back in the saddle.”
Fred gave him a sarcastic sneer before turning to look at the doll.
“Since she left, I haven’t used it once to sleep,” Fred smiled. “I have all the memories I need of her that count.”
“Twenty minutes then,” Barney nodded.
“Yeah.”
“By the way, forgot to welcome you to the Hemi family,” Barney jabbed him in the arm before walking off.
Fred watched his friend head to the moving truck before getting into his own vehicle. He waited for him to drive off before pulling out and taking a right to another direction.
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
Ten minutes later, Fred stood inside a small clothing boutique named “Betty’s Rag Time.” He watched as Betty the shop owner, a curvy full figured young woman in a fifties ensemble with white and red streaks in her black hair gave the doll a look over.
“She looks beautiful!” She beamed. “I can’t believe this is the actual doll, and you’re …the guy!”
He simpered at her comment. Fred and Mary’s final dance got leaked onto the internet due to the DJ that was in attendance that night. It apparently got several million hits with a mixture of comments from it being CGI to it being a woman dressed like a doll.
From what he heard some people either attempted to recreate or do their own parody of the dance. He watched and saved only the original.
The one hiccup was that the San Diego police interviewed him on how the doll which was still evidence at the time ended up back in his possession. Cameras from inside the facility showed the doll in their evidence room one minute and then gone the next. For five minutes, the camera feeds were distorted as some blurry figure moved about the place.
Fred wasn’t arrested due to his iron clad alibi of being in a mental facility at the time. When he offered to give the doll back to the San Diego police department, they declined. The case in their eyes was considered closed.
What followed were his e-mail and social media accounts being flooded by people wanting to purchase the doll for either double or triple its worth. Fred waded through the fetish seekers, paranormal enthusiasts, and occult worshipers to choose Betty as the new owner of the doll.
“I can’t believe you’re only selling her for one hundred dollars,” the young woman turned to him. “These things go for five thousand and up easy. She’s going to look amazing in our window display.”
“She always looked amazing when I dressed her up,” Fred told his final lie.”
“I got to ask, why are you selling her for so little?” Betty asked him while adjusting her glasses. “She’s practically brand new. You could have gotten your money back and then some, especially considering how popular she is now.”
A bright smile came over his face as he glanced at the doll.
“She used to be my wife,” he admitted with no hesitation.
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
Five minutes later, Fred drove alone heading to his new home with a smile on his face and music pumping from the speakers of the Jeep. He wiped his eyes of the mist that began to form, but his smile remained.
He glanced up at the review mirror to look upon the restored selfie he took of them with him in the passenger seat while Mary drove their old Jeep.
On the passenger seat laid his mother’s bible, while within the cup holder of the vehicle, was an envelope with a letter inside. On the envelope, itself it read “To Fred, from Mary.”
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
Dear Fred,
By the time, you read this letter, I would have passed on. Sorry for the crappy writing, it’s not easy to do with doll hands. I could have done it on the computer, but I wanted it to be something that you knew was done by me. So, that you are aware that the time we spent together was as real as the air you still breathe.
I have a confession to make. A tiny part of me is glad I went first. I know it may come off being a bit selfish, but I don’t know how I would be able to handle it if you went before me.
I remember waking up one morning crying because I had a nightmare that you had passed first. I had to pull myself together before I got on the phone just to hear your voice and know that you were still there. I ended up spending half the day laying in the bed a mess holding onto the work clothes you wore the day before just so I could smell your scent. The day could not end soon enough for you to come home to me.
The part about dying that sucks ass is that you have no control over when it will happen, it’s permanent, and sometimes there is not enough time to say goodbye.
I can’t do anything about the first two, but I can now properly say goodbye.
There will be good days and bad days. Days when out of nowhere it will hit you like a hammer.
On those days, just remember, that for the time I was alive, I could not get enough of your love. I died knowing I
was completely loved from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Being your wife and loving you was the greatest adventure I did not have to write. I just wish the story could have lasted a bit longer.
So, when the pain of missing me knocks you down. I want you to remember and hold onto that, let it fill you up, then get up off your ass, wipe your tears away, and keep moving forward.
And don’t be too angry with God. We both know He broke the mold when He made me, so it’s just natural He’ll want me back home much sooner.
So, go out there, and live life as if you’re taking your last breath, so that if and when we see each other again, we’ll have a lot to talk about.