Xavier (The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son)

Had a hard time with todays A to Z Blog Challenge. Finally cheated and worked X in with my villains name. Live with it. Kirk cheated on the Kobayashi Maru and he became the Captain of the most famous Star Ship ever.

The Vamplit Friday Flash Theme is Old Wives Tales. I worked several into this.

Xavier

The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Groaning, Selma rose from her rocking chair, her knees protesting sharply. Careful to stop the chairs rocking motion, lest an evil spirit decides to sit in it, she headed to the front door to see who it was that had intruded on her evening.  Looking through the small peephole, she crossed herself. It was Xavier, Dominique’s son. Checking to make sure the salt lined the threshold and hadn’t been broken, she shuddered, and then opened the door, only a crack though, she didn’t want him to take it as an invitation to come in.

“What do you want with me, Xavier?”

“I heard that you had been ill and thought I would check on you.”

Selma pulled her shawl around her shoulders and fixed him with a stern glare. “I am fine Xavier. I may be an old woman, but I’m strong as an ox.”

“Never the less, I know you are alone. It would be a shame if something were to happen to you.”

“Thank you for your kindness. Now if you don’t mind…” Selma moved to shut the door but Xavier stuck his foot out, blocking her escape. Behind her, the old grandfather clock chimed. It hadn’t worked for years. Another chill crossed her old bones and she felt real fear.

“Xavier, I am an old woman and tired, but don’t test my patience.”

“I will be back to check on you tomorrow,” Xavier said. Then without a word, he turned and left.

***

Selma dreamed of her sister. She hadn’t thought of her in some time. She’d died during child birth when she was only twenty-three and Selma had thought she’d long since put her twins ghost to rest. Thelma was talking to her, trying to warn her of something, but Selma couldn’t understand a word of it. Her words were jumbled at times and at other times, her sister’s mouth would move, but nothing came out. Then Thelma turned away from her, bending to pick something up. Selma strained to see what it was, but Thelma blocked her view. Finally she turned back, a smile on her face. She was holding a baby. The baby, still covered with the blood from birth began to scream, but the sound that came out sounded more like a crow than a child.

***

Selma woke up with a start.  Something was rattling at her window. Horrified she saw a bird flapping against the glass, trying to get in. It thrashed outside for a few more seconds and then took off, screaming its outrage at being denied entrance.

Something bad was going to happen, Selma could feel it. It had to do with Xavier’s visit; there was no doubt of that. He was the seventh son of a seventh son. She knew many people believed that made him a vampire…or a werewolf, according to some. She didn’t hold to that belief, although she suspected he had some strong magic. She also suspected he danced with Satan’s mistress beneath the light of the full moon, although she had no proof of that.  Getting up to go to the bathroom, she pulled her rosary beads off the bedside table and took them with her. When she was finished, she opened the door to the hall and felt a cold chill hit her face. The window at the end of the hall was open and the crow sat on the ledge, pecking at something bloody. Then the old grandfather clock chimed again and she heard footsteps crossing the floor of her bedroom.

“Xavier,” she said, peering into her room, “how did you get into my home?” Her voice was strong and steady, she sounded outraged. Truth was she shook with fright. She would be dead soon and she knew it.

“I came for you, mother.”

“I am not your mother. Now leave. She held out her rosary, the silver cross flashing in the light.”

“Your superstitions can’t save you woman.”

His eyes were dark and pierced her heart with their coldness. He moved towards her and she wanted to run, but her legs had turned to stone.

"I am so hungry old lady and you haven't long left anyway."

Then he was upon her, his arms around her, caressing her hair.  Selma’s heart stopped moments before he bit into her neck. Xavier drank greedily, trying to get it all before it cooled. Spotting a glob of the red nectar splat to the ground, he swiped it up with his finger and licked it clean.  Five second rule.

Old Wives Tales Used:

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son: Believed to have magical ability. In some cultures he is a vampire. When writing this my daughter told me she’d heard werewolf.

Clock that doesn’t work chiming means a death in the family.

Salt on the threshold of a door will keep evil spirits from entering your home.

Don’t leave an empty rocking chair rocking, or an evil spirit may come and sit in it.

Dreaming of someone who has died is a warning.

Dreaming of a birth means there will be a death.

A bird in the house is a sign of death.

5 second rule…couldn’t resist.

R is for Reaper...(Joining Brodie)

Today is the letter R in the A to Z Blog Challenge. It is also Vamplit Friday Flash and Black Cat’s is the theme. So, combining the two, R is for Reaper…

Joining Brodie

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Eleanor stood over the open grave that contained the remains of her husband. She still didn’t understand what had happened. Brodie had been relatively young, only 48. He ran, ate the right food, his last physical had been damn near perfect.  If anything, Eleanor thought she would go first, drinking cola, snacking on salty chips and sneaking cigarettes behind her health conscious partners back.

Brushing away a tear, Eleanor cast an angry look at the sky. She wanted to rail at God, give him a good piece of her mind for taking Brodie.  A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention though and she turned towards the plot of land a few rows from her husband’s. A black cat sat beside the gravestone, watching her.

“Don’t be silly,” she scolded herself. “It’s not staring at you.”

She tried concentrating on what the pastor was saying; something about Brodie going home to be with the Lord and she felt her anger surge. Again, she wanted to condemn God, disavow Him for taking her soul, because truly that’s what Brodie was. They were complete opposites; his yin to her yang, they completed each other.

Before she could send her contempt God’s way, the cat once again caught her attention. It had moved closer and was sitting nearly on top of her, separating their distance by only a few feet. And it was staring at her, its green eyes nearly glowing. Something about this cat seemed familiar and she gave a little start, realizing she had seen it with Brodie the day he died.

“Eleanor, are you okay?”  Her best friend, Caitlyn put her arm around her shoulder, offering support. Irritated, Eleanor fought the urge to pull from her friend’s touch, biting back a harsh reply.

“Of course I’m not alright, my fuckin’ husband just died,” is what she wanted to say, but instead she said, “I was just looking at that cat.”

“What cat?”

“The cat sitting right in front of us.” Eleanor nodded her head towards the cat, but it was gone. Looking around, even turning, so she could see behind her, Eleanor looked confused. “Well it was there just a minute ago.”

“It’s been a stressful day.  I’m amazed at how well you’ve been holding together.”

“I’m not seeing things! A black cat was just sitting there, no more than two feet in front of us. I don’t know where it’s gone, but you aren’t going to act like I’m a blooming moron!”

The other mourners turned to stare, while the pastor fell silent. They all had that look of understanding that Eleanor was getting tired of seeing. “To hell with it, now they all think I’m bloomers.” Motioning for the pastor to continue, she tried to forget the damn cat.

***

“Caitlyn, I promise I will be just fine. Go on home.”

“You don’t need to be alone right now. What did I promise you when we became blood sisters? That I would always be there for you. That’s binding you know, I have to stay.”

“We were six years old and all we did was prick our fingers.  I need to be alone. I want to think about him and if you’re here you’ll keep talking, trying to make me forget.”

“Not forget…but you need time to heal.”

“I’ll heal in my own way. We only just buried him. Now put down that plate and go.”

Sighing, Caitlyn put down the serving dish she’d been about to wash. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Eleanor saw her friend to her car and then locked the door.  When she turned around the black cat was sitting on the back of her couch.

“Git!” Eleanor swatted at the animal, chasing it off the couch. The thing jumped out of her reach, landing on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. “GIT!”  Eleanor picked up a blanket and tossed it towards the cat. The creature arched its back and hissed at her, showing sharpened teeth.

“I don’t know how you got in here, but I want you gone! I bet you had something to do with Brodie’s death.”

Eleanor’s voice caught in her throat as soon as she said it. Suddenly she knew it had to be true

 “Oh my God, what the hell are you?”

Eleanor backed away from the creature…a black cat; they were supposed to be bad luck. She’d never bought into superstitions before, but now she was a believer.

The cat just sat on the counter staring. His eyes shone bright and he lifted his head, tilting it and looking behind her.

“What…what’s there?” Eleanor turned, expecting to find something dangerous. When she did, she moved her foot, not realizing she was at the edge of the living room It was only a step down into Brodie’s den, but not expecting it, Eleanor’s foot came down hard and she fell forward, wrenching her knee.

“Now look what you’ve done. Go away!”

The cat didn’t leave, but sat just out of her reach, staring at her. His eyes were unnatural. Eleanor tried not to look into them, but they were hypnotizing. Before long she grew drowsy. Closing her eyes, she leaned back, lying down on the carpet.

She felt the cat sniffing her leg and then climb up on top of her, its heavy frame moved up her body, until she felt his nose sniffing at her eyes. A tongue reached out, licking her tears. Then the cat pressed his nose up against her mouth.

“What the hell…” Eleanor tried to push the cat off, but she was too weak. When she opened her mouth, she felt the creature suck the air out. Her life draining from her, she opened her eyes. The cat was staring at her, its eyes glowing green. She knew what he was now. He was the Reaper, come to take her soul. Sighing, finding peace with her death, she closed her eyes and waited to join Brodie.

Word Count: 1,000

Forevermore

Day 6 of the A to Z Blog Challenge is also my Vamplit FridayFlash. The theme this month is Superstition and the topic today is Broken Mirrors….and F for the A to Z Challenge.

F stands for Familiar Spirit (or Fail for attempting to contain one).

Forevermore

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Selma lit the candles, bathing her bedroom in a warm glow. The candles sat in a circle around a full length mirror that she had placed in the middle of her room. She had found the mirror in the attic and after some considerable persuasion, had managed to convince her mother to let her have it. The mirror itself was framed in black, which is what had caught Selma’s attention. It wasn’t especially decorative, but there seemed to be a glow beneath the surface and Selma felt a familiar stirring in her mind. A voice seemed to whisper to her from within the glass and when she peered into the mirror, she saw a face returning that imitated her own, reflecting eyes that were older and more cunning than she possessed. She knew immediately that the mirror was magic, perhaps a portal to another world and knew that she must have it.

Selma had been studying witchcraft for a while with her friends. It had begun as a lark, a way to rebel against their parents. They had died their hair black, wore dark makeup, drawn in thick lines under their eyes and around their lips and wore clothes that they thought made them look rebellious. While none of her friends seemed to have an affinity for magic, Selma had a natural ability, one that she learned from a family member, she shared with her grandmother. She discovered that magic was woven into many ordinary looking things. The mirror, she suspected, contained a familiar spirit that had been bound to her grandmother. Tonight Selma planned to summon the Familiar and bind it to her.

Finishing her preparations, Selma turned and faced the mirror. The reflection was her own, but if she did this right, that would change.

“Spirit contained within the mirror, reveal yourself to me.”

The candles flickered, but nothing happened. The image in the mirror never wavered.

“I compel you to come forth, oh spirit I command thee, reveal thyself.”

Nothing, although this time Selma got the distinct feeling she was being watched and that the spirit was amused.

“Spirit, come forth.” This time, even though Selma’s voice had seemed less certain, there was a ripple in her reflection. The image that looked back at her was still Selma’s, but the eyes were darker and the smile mocking.

“You summoned me?”

Selma wasn’t sure what she had expected, she had grown up with movies like Snow White, where the mirror answered to the Queen, but actually having one speak to her, even though that is what she had been attempting, caught her by surprise. Stammering a moment, Selma searched for the words she intended to say, once she’d summoned the spirit.

“Spirit, I bind thee to me, I compel you to serve me, I command you to obey me and only me. I bind thee to me forevermore.”

“Forevermore you say.” The spirit’s voice was mocking, her voice trembling with rage. “Serve you…a mere child? And why should I do that…master?”

Uncertain at the strange turn the magic was taking, Selma took a step back. Her voice shaking, along with her knees, the young witch answered, “Because I am the Sorceress that has called thee. I have bound thee to me and you must obey.”

“I must obey? Do I? Your features look familiar to me. I think perhaps I have met a relative of yours.” The spirit smiled and nodded, “I know you now…you are descended from the witch that trapped me here.”

“Trapped you?”

“Imprisoned, captured, chained, shackled…bound, yes, bound me to this mirror, forcing me to live in shadow and smoke, doing her bidding. I had plans to escape, but then she died.”

“The witch was my grandmother and the mirror…and you, belong to me now.”

“So I heard, you said you bind me…”

“Yes, I did,” Selma said, wondering why she felt as though she were walking into a trap.

“To. You. Interesting choice of words.” The spirit smiled, flames showing in her eyes. “I accept…only…”

“Only?”

“Only it shall be you that serves me.”

The mirror began to glow, first appearing almost white and then the surface began to darken, becoming black, the reflection warping as the glass began to crack. Then the mirror shattered, shards of glass raining onto the floor like hail. Sharp fragments cut Selma’s hands, which she held out in front of her, protecting her face,

Remembering that a broken mirror brought seven years of bad luck, Selma acted quickly, turning counter clockwise three times. On the third turn, she found herself looking into eyes that were black as onyx.

“You bound me to thee…so mote it be.”

Selma opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Instead, the Familiar poured herself into Selma, binding her spirit to the inexperienced witch. Selma fought back, but the entity was more powerful, her anger at her captivity driving her fury. When the battle was over, Selma picked a shard up from the ground and looked into it. The eyes reflecting back were cold and black. Cunning. Smiling, an unfamiliar chuckle left her throat. She was finally free.

Word Count: 857

The Dead Husband's Club

For the Vamplit Friday Flash I chose Small Town Madness and Serial Murderer as my prompt.

The Dead Husbands Club

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Even though the paper had been filled with stories about the serial killer that had been running rampant around the small town of Dumont, Stella didn’t think anything about it when she came home and found the front door unlocked and slightly ajar. She didn’t pay attention to the turned over table by the entrance, nor did she care that the plant she had nursed since it was a little sprout, was laying on its side, dirt smeared across the floor.

Her husband was an asshole that took every opportunity to belittle her, always pointing out the few pounds she put on, because she couldn’t keep her fingers out of the cookie jar, or mentioning that there was a smear on the window that she must have missed when she washed them; if she even bothered cleaning at all, because as Larry was wont to point out, she seemed to be allergic to soap and disinfectant.  Perhaps asshole was a bit too kind. He was a fucking lard ass that drove everyone away with his constant criticism and superior attitude. Asshole was too kind, bastard, a compliment and fucktard not accurate enough. Stella rued the day, fifteen years earlier, when she ditched her boyfriend of three years to marry the war hero, just returned home.  He was tall and handsome and so much more than what she thought she was getting. Now she knew her loss and would have divorced him, if it was possible, but she believed the words, till death do us part. And it was till death that she intended to keep.

It was her friend Sally that told her about the Dead Husband’s Club.  It cost a sizable fee to join, murder didn’t come cheap, and a friend in the club to vouch for you, but once you were in, your husband problems would be taken care of. Sally’s husband had been one of the first victims of the Dumont Killer. It was a month ago, over coffee, that Sally told Stella the truth about what happened.

“You mean you paid someone to kill him?” Stella had looked around her kitchen, expecting to see a hidden camera crew.

“Not just someone, the Dumont Killer.  You remember Morgan James? His wife is the one that first came up with the idea.”

Morgan James was one of the richest men in town. Was, because over a year ago he had been the second victim of the Dumont Killer. The first had been Old Man Whittaker, also one of the richest men in town. Old Man Whittaker and Morgan had been partners and at first the police thought the two murders were related. Then Sally’s husband was killed. Bobby hadn’t been connected to the other two men at all and then when the janitor at the elementary school was found dead in the school library, it was declared to be the work of a serial killer.

“But I don’t understand, how do you even know Ruth James?”

Sally was far from rich. She worked at The Dirty Spoon, which wasn’t exactly the hangout for the rich and famous.

“Her dog got loose one day and I found him digging a hole in my garden. I called the number on his collar and she came to pick him up. She came when Bobby was in one of his moods. My eye was nearly swollen shut, but she didn’t say a word. Just gave Bobby the money he was demanding for finding her dog and left. She came back later.  We talked for hours.  Her husband Morgan was just as bad as Bobby, if not worse. At least Bobby only hit me. Her husband did worse, but she couldn’t prove it. And she couldn’t just leave him. He had the money, the lawyers and the family history to be able to take everything from her, including the kids. Then she said something that changed our lives. “

“What’s that?”

“The men in this town have lost all respect for women. I see it everywhere. Even Old Man Whittaker treats his wife like a servant, making her wait on him hand and foot, even though she can barely walk. He has more money than God and he won’t spend a dime of it to hire a maid. I volunteer at the women’s shelter and you would be amazed at the number of calls we get, yet the place is nearly empty. Why? Because even though we are there to help women, they are afraid to leave their husband’s.”

“She volunteers at the women’s shelter?” Stella had called there just the week before.

“Not just her. I do to. It’s part of the condition of joining the club. You have to volunteer at the shelter. I recognized your voice when you called.”

“What club?”

“The Dead Husband’s Club. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Ruth’s plan. We hire someone to kill our husbands. “

Stella had joined that day, but had to wait a month for Frank to fall onto the roster. There were women ahead of her. She didn’t know their names. It was safest that way. If any woman ever felt remorse and went to the police, she would only have a few names, at best, to give them. But finally it was her turn. She wasn’t supposed to come home yet. The plan was for her to go shopping and spend the morning being seen around town. But Larry kept creeping into her mind throughout the day and she couldn’t take it anymore. She had to see if he was dead.

When she walked into the kitchen, Larry was tied to a chair. It was the man standing behind the chair that caught Stella by surprise.

“You…”

“I wondered when his name would show up on my list.”

Stella stepped further into the kitchen, staring at Frank’s brother, the man she had almost married fifteen years earlier.

The Real Ghost Busters of Hollywood

This is week 2 of Readers Choice for the Vamplit Friday Flash. Since I used all the prompts last week, I decided to try it again, this time with a different spin. I also decided to revisit some of my more...fun...characters, Bob and Ethel. They have been married a long time. Perhaps too long and Dead Charlie, an man that loves his job so much, death couldn't stop him from returning to work.

The Real Ghost Busters of Hollywood

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“Have you ever had the feeling someone was watching you? Have you ever felt a chill run down your spine and known that you had been touched by the evil hand of something you couldn’t explain? Zombies, serial murderers, clowns, villains of all kinds, have often been portrayed on stage and screen in an attempt to thrill those attracted to the dark side. Rarely though has anything more disturbing been recreated, than what we are about to attempt today. Hi, I am Russ Collichio and this is The Real Ghost Busters of Hollywood.”

“Is this going to take long?”

“CUT! Lady, Ethel is it? What are you doing? You’re killing me here.”

“I didn’t realize this was going to take so long. I have a meeting with my book club. Maybe we should reschedule.”

“This isn’t something we can reschedule. You contacted us. You told us your house was haunted. You asked us to come out and remove the ghost.”

“But my book club…”

“We’ll try to get you out of here on time, but you need to let us do our job. No more interruptions. Please.”

Ethel nodded her agreement, as Peter gently moved the elderly woman back towards the couch, to sit next to her husband.

Bob Steman shook his head at the director. “She’ll drive you crazy. Old Biddy can’t mind her own business. Not like me. I’m surprised she hasn’t chased this ghost out of the house, with her craziness.”

“You old coot,” Ethel said, jabbing her husband in the side. “You brought this evil thing into the house with your perverted thoughts. See those binoculars?” Ethel pointed at the window next to an old recliner. “He watches the neighbor girl with those. She knows it too. Puts a show on for him every night, the trollup.”

“I do not watch that girl! I use those glasses for bird watching.”

“Bird watching my ass.”

“If your ass wasn’t sagging to the ground…”

Peter cut the man off before he could finish the sentence. “Please, we have a schedule to keep. We’re already behind and we have to be in Atlanta tomorrow. There’s a restaurant there that has an employee who refuses to leave.”

“What does that have to do with ghost hunting,” Ethel asked.

“He’s dead. Hit and run on his way home one night. Hasn’t stopped Dead Charlie from showing up to work every day though.”

“You hear that,” Ethel said, jabbing her husband in the side again. “A man with work ethic. I can’t even get you to fix that squeaky door in the kitchen and you’re alive.”

“Please, can we visit this later? Okay? Great! Let’s pick up with, this is the real ghost busters of Hollywood.”

“Are we gonna get through it this time?” Russ looked at his watch. He was supposed to have dinner with one of the actresses from The Real Housewives of Dracula.

“Let’s hope,” Peter said. “Okay, ready, set…ACTION!”

“Fifty years ago, madness hit this small town of Youngstown, Ohio. A series of murders descended on this close knit community, sending them into a nightmare of blood, lust and fear.”

Russ had been walking through the house, as the camera man followed him from room to room. He stopped in the kitchen, where the special effects guy had rigged the back door to open. On cue, it swung in, squeaking loudly, thanks to the effects team.

“Then one night a young man by the name of Murdock Jones entered through the back door of this home. With him, he carried a butcher knife, the weapon he intended to mutilate the family that lived here with. Murdock came from a troubled home. His father had murdered his mother in front of him, when he was only ten years old. After that he lived with an Aunt that had, according to rumor, done things to him. When he was thirteen, he killed her, by putting rat poison in her tea. Then he buried her in the cellar. It would be months before social workers would discover he was living on his own.”

Murdock listened to the actor’s monologue, reveling in the delicious memory of what he had done to his aunt. All these years later, he remembered how it had felt in that dark cellar, shoveling dirt on the bitch, but not before pissing on her. She wasn’t dead either, like had been reported. Somehow he hadn’t given her enough poison. It didn’t matter though. She couldn’t fight back and he buried her alive. Then he jerked off on her grave. A few weeks later he did the neighbor girl, only instead of poison, he used a paring knife, putting little cuts all along her breasts, before cutting her open. They never did find her body. It would be a few years before they realized there was a killer in their town.

“Murdock had made a mistake though. His victims weren’t as docile as he had anticipated. They fought back and won.”

“Fought back? There was no fighting. Just screaming and dying.”

Unaware of the ghost next to him, Russ continued, “One of the residents was a Navy Seal, home for a few days leave.”

“Navy Seal my ass. Are they still passing around that story?”

“He slit Murdock’s throat with his own knife.”

“The hell he did. He used his teeth. His very sharp, canine teeth. I knew I was in trouble when I saw him coming at me, all hairy and wolfie.”

“Really, are you almost done?”

“CUT!”

“Ethel, you old biddy, you’re ruining their scene again. Hey, do you think you could interview me next? I bet the little cutie next door would get a kick, seeing me on TV.”

“Bob, you old perv, sit back down!”

 The least he could have done was left me alive,” Murdock snorted. “I think I would have liked being a wolf better than I do being a ghost. At least then I could eat those two monsters I’m stuck haunting.”

Word Count: 1,000

Copyright© 2012 Lisa McCourt Hollar

The Curiosity Shop

I missed last week’s Vamplit prompt, which was little shop of oddities. So since this week is author’s choice of oddities, I am going to use last week’s prompt. A while back I wrote a story called The Weddingi Veil. A reader had said that she would like to see what happened from the decision to kill Jason, after all, was that the only choice? So from that, I present to  you…

The Curiosity Shop

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Cecile pulled into the parking lot of the odd little shop. It hadn’t been there the day before. Glancing at the sign that read simply, The Curiosity Shop, she didn’t question its sudden appearance. She had been looking for it for a month now and had known she wouldn’t find the place in the usual manor, and that it would find her instead.

Opening her car door, Cecile hurried across the lot, afraid the shop would disappear before she was inside.  Once there, she breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes searching the store for the proprietor.  She barely noticed the oddities that lined the shelves and tables scattered throughout the room.

“May I help you?” The voice came from behind her.

“I don’t know.” Cecile’s voice shook. “A friend of mine thought you might be able to help me. She bought something here once.”

“A wedding veil. I remember. How is Laurie?”

“She’s dying.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m dying too. We think…well, this is going to sound crazy, but my husband is killing us.”

“And why would that be crazy?”

“Because Jason is dead.”

“Yes, I know dear. I don’t know how you think I can help you though.”

“Because that wedding veil you sold Laurie is the reason he is dead.”

Stepping into the light, the old woman chuckled. The hag’s eyes were milky white and even though she was blind, Cecile had no doubt she could see into her soul. “The wedding veil didn’t kill Jason. That was the two of you and that is why his spirit is seeking revenge.”

“The veil showed Laurie what Jason intended to do! He was going to kill us.”

The old woman shook her head. “There is always a choice. The future isn’t set in stone. The ripples that are made by our decisions change what can happen. Laurie put on the wedding veil, because she wanted to imagine that she was marrying Jason…a married man that she chose to run around with. The veil showed her what would happen IF she pursued that road.”

“Even if she didn’t marry him, she was pregnant with his child. He would have killed her to keep her from telling me.”

“Lie to yourself, but not to me. This store knows your soul.”

Cecile bit her lip, frustrated.  She wanted to scream at the woman; after all she was the one that set everything in motion. If this store truly did know everything, then it knew what would happen when Laurie bought the veil. She didn’t scream though. She had a daughter that needed her. Instead, she took a deep breath and asked, “Can you help me?”

“I can. But it will cost.”

***

Closing the door to her apartment, Cecile leaned against the wall. On the way home, she had looked in the rearview mirror once and seen Jason staring back at her, his eyes black with rage. She hadn’t looked again after that.

“Mommy!” Abby ran into the hallway, her impish smile lifting Cecile’s spirit. Laurie stood behind her, pale, her belly distended. She was due in another week, but Cecile worried she wouldn’t make it. Jason would see her dead before she delivered his child. Unless they stopped him.

“You found it,” Laurie said, motioning to the large package that Cecile carried.

“Yes. But…I had to promise her something. You aren’t going to like it.”

“What?”

“The baby.”

“NO!” Laurie covered her swollen abdomen with her hands and stared at Cecile in shock. “I won’t give up my baby! I did all this for her.”

“She doesn’t want it…”

“Her.”

“She doesn’t want her right away. But she says she is ready to retire. She needs an apprentice.”

“When?”

“She didn’t say.”

Laurie turned and went into the living room. “I suppose we don’t have any choice.”

Cecile set the package up against the wall and instructed Abby to go next door to Mrs. Whitman’s.  Once she was gone, Cecile uncovered the object.

“A mirror?” Laurie’s voice trembled. Jason always showed up in mirrors.

“We have to trap him inside of it.” Cecile positioned it in the middle of the room. The mirror was full length, allowing a person to view themselves from head to foot. Once she had it where she wanted, she placed candles around the room, lighting them.  

“What do we have to do?”

“Stand in front of the mirror,” Cecile instructed. “Then call him.”

“Call him? Cecile, I can’t. I don’t want him here!”

“It’s the only way and it has to be you. The old woman said so.”

“Why me?” Laurie’s voice was shaking.

“Because that is what she said.  Do you want him gone or not?”

Laurie felt her stomach. Her baby was moving. She wondered if she felt her fear. “I want him gone” Standing in front of the mirror she called out, “Jason. Jason, come here. Please.”

Then she saw him, standing behind her. He held a rope in his hand. She felt it around her throat, pulling tight and choking her. Gurgling, she looked towards Cecile.

Cecile stood there and watched. Laurie reached for the rope around her neck. There was nothing there, but she was choking.  Still, Cecile did nothing. Just before Laurie passed out, she stepped in front of the mirror, striking the glass with a glass stake the old woman had given her. Jason screamed as the glass shattered. His soul was now trapped inside the stake.

Bending over Laurie, Cecile held her while she died.  “I’m sorry. She said it had to be, a life for a life.”

When the ambulance arrived, Laurie was dead, her belly no longer distended from pregnancy. There was no sign she had been pregnant. The baby was just gone. The doctors puzzled over it. Televangelists called it a miracle of God. The gossip papers claimed it was an alien abduction.  But Cecile knew the truth. The baby was with the old woman, waiting to take her place in The Curiosity Shop.

Copyright© 2012 Lisa McCourt Hollar

This Is How It Begins...

Today's Vamplit theme is Antique, Scientific Oddities.

This Is How It Begins…

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“Careful opening the door. The air inside is probably stagnate, so make sure your masks are on. We don’t know for sure what Dr. Meggs was doing in here, just that he thought it best to barricade the lab.”

“And kill himself.”

“Yes Straka, and kill himself,” Nita Sanders said.

“Should we really be opening this place up then,” Alejandra Wiens asked, the nervousness in her voice echoing the concern they all had.

“We are scientists,” Nita said. “We don’t let fear stop us.”

“Especially when there is money involved.” Neil Straka smirked.

“Is it true that we all will be rich?”

“That depends. We don’t know how far Dr. Meggs got with his experiment, just that he ordered his family to never open the lab doors.”

“And yet, his niece has hired us to do just that.” Kurt Dombrosky looked around the lab, his eyes shining like a kid in a candy shop. Nita had to admit, it was pretty cool. All the beakers and test tubes were preserved exactly as Dr. Meggs had left them.

“Some of this equipment was obsolete fifty years ago,” Neil said.

“I read a paper he wrote,” Alajandra said. “It sounded like the ravings of a lunatic. Did he really believe death could be stopped?”

“There are many people that believe it is possible,” Nita said. “I am just interested in prolonging life. That is what Cecilia Meggs hired us to do.”

“She has the same disease her aunt did,” Kurt said

“I found his notes.” Nita blew dust off of a notebook that had been sitting open on a desk. Scanning it, she snorted. “It does sound like the ravings of a lunatic. Listen to this.”

‘I administered the medicine to Sophie, in powder form, since she is unable to swallow pills. The powder is breathed in and absorbed through the membranes. I saw results almost immediately. Sophie’s eyes cleared and she recognized me for the first time in over a month. “

“The next day he writes,”

‘One of my lab assistants has cancer. I was unaware of this, until he came to me this morning and told me. I had noticed he was losing weight, but I blamed it on the long hours we were keeping. He wondered if the powder could cure him. I took blood tests before administering the dosage and then took more blood an hour after. The cancer is gone!’

“Sounds wonderful,” Alejandra said.

“You would think, but then listen to this.”

‘The rats are showing signs of deterioration. A week ago they were thriving; now look like the risen dead. Whiskers was eating his cage mate. And even though Squigie’s entrails were strewn across the cage, he was still alive and trying to get at Whiskers. I put them down by decapitating their heads. Dear God, what have I given my wife?’

“That is where it ends. A few days later he killed himself.”

“Dr. Sanders, come look at this!”

“It looks like a sarcophagus,” Nita said, joining Kurt in the next room. There were two caskets, both resembling the burial vessels of ancient Egypt. Both were nailed shut.

“Let’s pry it open,” Nina said.

The lid to the casket made a groaning sound and then gave, falling open and releasing the air that had been in there for over thirty years. Inside was Sophie Meggs.

“Her skin appears to be mummified,” Nita said. Lifting the woman’s hand, she stared at the open lid in shock. “Her nails are broken and her fingers were ripped open. There are scratches on the lid. She was alive when she was entombed.”

Prying the next one open, Kurt nodding at Nita and verified the same results.

“No wonder he killed himself,” Straka said. “By the way,” he said, holding up a vile, “I found the cure.”

“Be careful with that,” Alejandra said, backing away.

“The man was nutters,” Straka said. “It’s probably harmless.”

“Just the same,” Nita said, “you should put your mask on…like I told you too when we first entered. You too Alejandra,”

“You aren’t my superior. We are equals in this project, so you don’t get to...” Suddenly Straka stopped speaking, his eyes opening wide. He pointed behind Nita.

Puzzled, Nita turned and screamed. Sophie Meggs, was lunging for her, mouth opened wide. Nita dodged out of the way, but her mask was knocked off by Sophie’s flailing arm.

Still holding the crowbar, Kurt lodged it into the back of the corpse’s head. Sophie stopped moving and crumbled to the floor. Kurt pulled the crowbar out and turned just in time to find the second corpse. He swung and missed, as the zombie lunged for Straka. Falling backwards, Straka screamed. Kurt swung again, this time connecting with the back of the creature’s head and killing him.

“Thank God,” Nita said, then froze as the sound of breaking glass.

“I..it…Oh my God.” Straka sat next to the broken vile, his pants soaked with piss. “They were alive!”

“And now we are dead,” Nita screamed. “You just contaminated us, except for Kurt. He still has his mask on.”

“What are we going to do?” Alejandra was crying.

“This thing takes a week to infect the body. We can work on a cure, but if we can’t find one, Kurt will have to lock us in here. Kill us first, if you can, but lock the lab back up and don’t let anyone else in. Ever.”

“NO! I can’t. I won’t be…NO! You all are as crazy as Meggs was.” Dr. Straka was backing away, heading for the exit.

“Neil, don’t do it!” Nita tried to stop Straka, but he was closer to the door than she was and fear motivated him to move quickly. He was out the door before she could stop him. Then she heard the bolt slide into place. They were locked in, just as she had ordered, but Straka was outside and she had no doubt he would spread the contamination.

Word Count: 998