“Come on,” the man said, smiling wide to reveal a set of rotten teeth. Just the sight of those yellow husks of teeth made Dorothy feel queasy.
She started to walk off and shook her head. “No thanks, man. Drugs aren't my scene.”
She rounded the corner and got out of sight of the wanna-be drug dealer and started laughing some more. Wow, the things you run into when you're skipping school. I should get suspended more often.
Dorothy looked up and something very unusual caught her eye. Is that a fucking pentagram? Sure enough, right there, in a store window, was a giant black pentagram. Now what the fuck is this?
She walked up to the storefront slowly, almost in awe of what stood before her. The sign on the door said, “Magick and Mysticism Store.” Dorothy couldn't believe her eyes. She had been here just a couple weeks ago. When did this place open? And how come the Baptists hadn’t run this place out of town already?
Unable to fight her curiosity, Dorothy entered the store and was immediately met by the sweet aroma of old books. Oh, that smell, it was almost a religious experience for her. She stood there for the longest time and just took it in.
Not only did the place have a wonderful smell, but it was filled with the most amazing oddities. Angel figurines, candles, pentacles and pentagrams literally everywhere. She was in Gothic-Heaven.
The store wasn't very big. It was only one large room, but it was filled with so many things she couldn't take her eyes off of. There was only one person working that she could see—an older gentleman with white hair who looked more like someone's grandfather who should be slipping you hard caramel candies, not selling you books on the occult.
The gentleman made eye contact and smiled widely. “So, what kind of magick do you practice?”
Dorothy giggled. “Me? Oh, I don't practice. I'm just here to look.”
“You don't practice?” the man asked with a confused look on his face. “With your aura? You seriously don't practice?”
Dorothy shook her head. “No… and what the Hell are you talking about...'my aura?'”
The man propped up on the counter and smirked. “Your aura tells me that you're definitely gifted, my friend. Maybe you should look into it. I have all sorts of books that could help you with your journey.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Oh, okay. I get it. You see a girl in all black, wearing black make-up, and you figure, if you lay it on thick that you'll get a sale. You're good, old man, but not quite good enough.”
The man took a book off the shelf behind him and set it on the counter. “Come over here.” Dorothy stood her ground and didn't make move. “Seriously, just come over here. I want to show you something.”
Dorothy figured it couldn't hurt, so she strolled over to see what he wanted to show her. She placed her hands on the glass counter and gazed down. There was a book sitting there called “How to be a Solitary Practitioner.”
Dorothy wrinkled her brow. “What's this?”
“A book that will help you learn how to hone your gifts.”
Dorothy cocked her head to the side. He had piqued her curiosity, but he still wasn't getting a sale. “Dude, even if I wanted it, I'm flat broke right now.”
The man pushed the book across the counter closer to Dorothy. “Take it—as a gift.”
Dorothy looked at the book suspiciously. “Free? Nothing's free.”
“Trust me, what I want won’t be paid in money. I'll be paid back in karma.”
Dorothy had her doubts, but she reached out for the book. As soon as her hand brushed against the old man's, he quickly took a step away from her. His eyes bulged, and he began shaking.
Dorothy didn't know what to think. Is this old fuck having a heart attack? “Dude, are you okay?”
The man slowly raised a trembling finger at Dorothy and kept himself backed up as far from her as he could. “You...there is something dark in you, girl.”
Dorothy snickered. “Yea, tell me 'bout it, dude. What gave you a clue? The black eyeliner or the Marilyn Manson t-shirt?”
The man slammed his hand down on the counter and his voice became shaky. “No! There's a shadow hanging over your aura. Something dark, something… not natural.”
Dorothy had heard enough. She threw her hands up into the air and said, “Okay, that's it. I'm fucking out. I don't know what your fucking angle is, but I am d-o-n-e, done.”
She turned toward the door and the man spoke out again. For some reason, she was held in place by his words, like she had been enchanted. “You've got to let me cleanse you! If you don't get what's inside of you under control, you're going to bring Hell down on everything and everyone around you. Maybe not here, and maybe not today, but somewhere and sometime, you are going to destroy all that you love. Please!” he pleaded. “Let me help you!”
Dorothy raised her middle finger and said, “You know what? Go fuck yourself, buddy.” She stormed out the door and tried to clear her mind, but his words hung with her. For some reason, she just couldn't get them out of her head.
Chapter Seven
Dorothy spent the rest of the day absolutely fuming. In fact, she was so mad, she completely forgot to go to the bookstore. Looks like there wouldn't be any Stephen King in Dorothy's future this day after all. She was far too busy brooding and ranting obscenities in her head.
What the fuck was that asshole’s problem? Talking about my aura and saying there's a shadow hanging over me! I'm a fucking Goth, you idiot. Shadows and depression are like part of the fucking uniform for Christ's sake! I bet he was going to try and charge me an arm and leg for that “cleansing.” He was probably going to burn some sage around me, chant some nonsense, and then charge me a hundred bucks. Screw that shit!
Dorothy looked at her watch and saw it was nearly 2:40. She had just enough time to get back to the bus stop, greet Katie, and pick-up the work that she had missed for the day. Dorothy hoofed it double-time and headed for her rendezvous.
She made it to the bus stop just as the bus arrived. The first couple kids who got off were the neighbors kids from the street behind her. One of them, the girl, was in her art class, and she looked to be a complete and total emotional wreck. What the Hell is wrong with her?
Katie finally got off the bus and she came running up to Dorothy like she had something urgent on her mind. “Hey, Katie-Bug, how was—”
“Dee! Oh, my fucking God! You're not going to believe this!” Katie said, her face flustered as she fought to catch her breath. Dorothy knew something wasn't right and this terrified her.
Katie pulled Dorothy off to the side where no one could hear and filled her in on what happened. “It's about Todd.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Aw, shit. Did that asshole go around and tell everyone about us? I swear to God, if he did, I will fucking kill him.”
Dorothy's last words seemed to slam into Katie like a brick wall. Katie turned pale, almost sickly looking, and diverted her eyes by looking down to the ground. She whispered, “It's a little late for that.”
Dorothy was completely lost. “What the fuck are you talking about, Katie?”
“He's dead, Dee.”
Dorothy couldn't believe it, but she felt a bit numb hearing it. “Come on, Katie. That shit's not funny.”
Katie took Dorothy by the hands and cried out, “I'm not joking, Dee! Apparently after he had his run-in with us, he went off and got drunk. On the way home, he lost control of the car and... and...”
“God damn it, Katie! Say it!”
Katie blurted it out. “...and he wrapped his car around a tree.”
Dorothy went completely numb for a moment. She was freezing and she felt a trembling try to build up in her hands. She whispered, “Just what I said to him. Oh my God. Holy fuck, Katie. I think I killed him.”
Katie shook her head vigorously. “No, no. Don't even think like that. It's just a coincidence… a really creepy coincidence, but a coincidence.”
Dorothy took a step back and sat on the ground. She was still in a mild st
ate of shock. “I hated that asshole, but I never really wanted him to die.”
Katie took a seat beside Dorothy and interlaced fingers with her. “I know, baby. It's just… one of those fucked up things. Everyone in school was talking about it. I heard they're even going to bring in grief counselors for those who need it.”
The man at the magick shop's words suddenly came rushing back to Dorothy. All that talking about her aura and how convinced he was that she was a witch. Could she have actually made that happen? Is that even possible?
No, of course it's not possible. You're a fucking atheist, Dorothy. You don't believe in all that higher power, spiritual mumbo-jumbo. You like pentagrams because they're pretty, not because you think they actually represent anything.
“Dee!” Katie said, snapping her fingers in front of Dorothy's face. “You okay? You've got that blank stare thing going on again.”
In a very calm, quiet voice, Dorothy replied, “Yea. I'm fine. I guess… I guess I'm just in shock is all. I've never known anyone who died—at least not our age. My grandparents died a few years ago, but they were old and sick. We saw it coming from a mile away. This… this is something completely different. Even if he was the biggest bastard I ever met, he didn't deserve to die, at least not like that.”
Katie slumped in her shoulders and sighed. “Yea, no shit. It's pretty messed up to say the least.” Katie paused for a moment and then asked, “So, how was your day skipping school?”
Once again, the shop keeper's words echoed in Dorothy's mind. She closed her eyes and willed them out of her head. She didn't want to think about it anymore. “I'll tell you about it later, okay? I really got to get home.”
Katie looked disappointed but seemed to understand. She somberly nodded. “Okay. Call me later. I love ya, Dee.”
Dorothy stood up and started to slowly walk towards home. As she stared off into the distance she said softly, “Love you, too.”
When Dorothy got home, her mother was in rare fucking form. She had trashed the entire house, pulling out papers and letters and anything else stashed in the drawers around the house. She was drunk, as always, and screaming at the top of her lungs even before Dorothy got inside. Who her mother was screaming at and why, Dorothy had no clue, but you could hear her all the way out to the street. It was one of many ways that her mother managed to embarrass her on a daily basis. It had been this way for as long as Dorothy could remember. She thought she'd be used to it by now, but it still troubled her to no end.
On days like these, Dorothy had discovered that sneaking into the house and making as little noise as possible was her best bet for survival. If she stayed out of sight and didn't draw attention to herself, if she was lucky, her mom would just keep on her tirade about the house and leave her alone.
For the most part it worked. Dorothy managed to slip into her bedroom without even being noticed. Her mother was so drunk she had apparently lost complete track of time. Normally, Dorothy would get a lecture each day she came home that lasted anywhere from ten minutes to the entire evening. The usual subject matter was how her mother had big dreams of being a model before Dorothy was born and how Dorothy had “ruined her body and ruined her chance at greatness.” Dorothy had learned to take it in stride, but the words still stung. She'd never admit it, but once… just once, it would be nice to feel like her mother actually cared about her or wanted her in her life.
Dorothy tossed her backpack on the floor, sat on her bed, put on her headphones, and turned the music up as loud as it would go just to try and drown out her mother's screaming. Whatever had crawled up her mother's ass that day must have been a doozy. She was ranting and raving like a mad woman. Even with Rob Zombie's greatest hits blaring at top volume, she could still hear her mother shouting and cursing about this or that. It looked like it was going to be a very long night.
Ten o'clock and Dorothy's father still wasn't home. This was very unusual for him. Twelve-hour shifts were more than enough to wear him out. The fact he wasn't home yet was really starting to worry Dorothy, but at least her mother had passed out about an hour ago and the house was finally silent.
Dorothy laid back on her bed and started flipping through an old issue of Rolling Stone Magazine. There was an article in there about Seether that she hadn't read yet, and anything to do with Shaun Morgan, the lead singer, she was interested in. He had tortured eyes, the same eyes that she saw looking back at herself in the mirror every day. In a strange way, even though they had never met and probably never would, she felt like he was a kindred spirit of hers.
Just as she found the article, Toto came running into the room and bouncing beside the bed. He wasn't quite big enough to make the full leap, so this was his way of begging to be picked up and placed beside her.
“Aw, shit, Toto. Come here.”
She put her hand down beside the bed to pick him up and Toto started playing his little game with her. He wouldn't just let her grab him. Oh, no. That would be too easy. He started pawing and licking at her hand, backing up every time she tried to grab him and then pouncing back forward before she could pull her hand away. It was his way to get extra scratches, and if there was anything that little puppy loved, it was fucking scratches.
Suddenly, she heard the door downstairs rattle and the familiar sound of her father's boots walking on the hardwood floor. Dorothy smiled widely. “Daddy's home, Toto!”
Dorothy started to get out of bed when she heard something else. Apparently, her mother had heard the door as well and was back on her feet for round twenty of whatever delusional argument she was having earlier.
“Where have you been?” Dorothy's mother screamed at the top of her lungs.
Oh shit. Sounds like she's jumping on dad's back now. She almost never does that. Dorothy silently moved to her door so she could listen in to what was going on.
“I was working, Maggie.”
“At this fucking hour?” her mother slurred. “Don't fucking lie to me, Charles!”
Dorothy heard a loud thud and the sound of something shattering upon impact. Holy fuck! What is wrong with her tonight?
“Darn it, Maggie! Stop throwing things! You complain I never can afford to buy you nice things and when I do, all you do is destroy them. That was our wedding picture for Christ's sake!”
There was a pause, but it felt like the calm before the storm. Something about this felt wrong to Dorothy. This wasn't one of her mother's usual bad nights. There was something different about it. She didn't know how she knew this, but she felt it with all her heart.
“You lying, cheating, piece of shit! You were off with her, weren't you?”
“Wait! What?” her father said sounding absolutely lost by the accusation. “What are you talking about? Who do you think I was off with?”
“Cindy Adkins, you asshole!” The sound of more objects being destroyed filled the house.
Who the fuck is Cindy Adkins?
Her father laughed. “Cindy Adkins? My ninth-grade sweet heart? I haven't seen or heard from Cindy in nearly twenty years! Maggie, what the hell has gotten into you tonight?”
Her mother responded, her tongue full of venom. “Oh, is this where you flip it around and try to convince me that it's all in my mind? If you weren't off with her, where were you tonight? You're over two and a half hours late!”
Dorothy could hear the frustration building up in her father's voice. He was patient with her mother, far more than she deserved, but even he had his limits. “Look, Maggie! Jimmy from work got sick today and had to go home. We got behind on work, so I volunteered to work late and get some overtime. I figured we needed it considering we got a disconnect notice on the power bill yesterday.”
“Ha!” her mother scoffed. “That's the biggest crock of shit I've heard all week! I know what you're up to, mister, and I'm not going to stand for it.”
Dorothy's mother stormed off and the house became silent again. Dorothy's heart was pounding in her chest. She had never heard her parents fight like that befo
re. Sure, her mom yelled all the time, but it was usually just nonsensical drunkard babble. Tonight, she was on the attack and seemingly out for blood.
The door to her father's study closed and Dorothy couldn't resist the need to go and see him. The weird day at the magick shop, Todd's death, her mother acting like a vengeful banshee—she needed her daddy's attention. She prayed that he could calm the storm that she felt in the pit of her stomach.
She gently knocked on the door and let herself in. At first her father jumped, but seeing that it was Dorothy, a warm smile appeared on his face. Seeing that smile, Dorothy ran full speed and almost tackled her father to the ground with a hug.
Her father stroked her hair as he wrapped an arm around her back. “Hey, sweetie.” he whispered. “I suppose you heard all of that, huh?”
Dorothy nodded.
“I'm sorry, baby. Your mother is… she's just having a bad day and lashing out at people. You know what they say: you always hurt the ones you love.”
“That's just it, daddy.” Dorothy whimpered. “I don't think mamma loves either of us anymore.”
Her father sat down and pulled Dorothy into his lap. He used to hold her like this for hours when she was little. For the longest time, it was the only way Dorothy remembered being able to fall asleep. “Dorothy, your mother is sick. Half the time, she doesn't even know what she's doing. But somewhere, wrapped up in all that hatred and misery, is my wife and your mother. I was there when you were born and when your mother looked at you for the first time, I had never seen her happier. She cried for hours, refusing to give you back to the nurses or even let me hold you. Don't ever doubt that deep down, your mother loves you very much.”
Dorothy tried to believe him. She wanted to believe him—but she had seen too much and been hurt too much to see that as reality. She shook her head. “If she loves us, why is it that she’s always so damn mean and spiteful?” Before her father could reply, Dorothy added, “I hate her. I wish she would just go away and leave us alone.”
The Shadow of Oz Short Page 4