| Chapter 15
The conjurer of wicked little minds
You see back in those days my greatest fear was to
wake up and find my candle had burned itself out. That was my foremost
concern as a child whose room overlooked a giant wheat field where every
monster known to man was waiting. Waiting so patiently for that light to go out!
The summertime was especially bad 'cos the windows had to be left open, or
we'd suffocate to death from the heat! I had no clock in
my room back then, didn't need one. My mother would rouse me come mornin'
when it was time for class. All's I had was a candle that was lit every night
by my father before bedtime. If I was asleep then it didn't matter, but if I
awoke mind you!
Some of the darkest nights I can remember was having
to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Inching my way down that
pitch black corridor was more than I could handle. No
lights, we didn't have 'em yet, picture that! Do you know
that every time I walked down that hallway I was trembling with fear? Barely
high enough to reach the doorknob, I'd open it and step inside. Then came
the scary part.
My mother liked mirrors so there were a few in the
bathroom. One was tall and slender, my height; another was very
ornate. By ornate I mean quite fancy, and the other was a hand held mirror.
I had to hold my hand in front of my eyes as I walked in shaking like a leaf on
a tree as I sat down. Now I couldn't close the door or what was behind the
shower curtain might spring out and get me and God
forbid no one should hear my scream and save me! And I was just as
terrified to leave the door open 'cos the floor seemed to creak most
right in that hallway. It was then at that moment I could see somebody or
something leaning over to catch a glimpse of me as I sat there stirring. I
could almost hear it breathing ominously in the shadows of that corridor.
Then above the window where I sat, which led outside. I would
always sense something was gonna come crashing through the window and rip me
out of my seat! That never happened to me of course, thank heavens!
No child should ever be filled with such gut-wrenching terror and trepidation,
but those were the woes of my youth. Then come mornin,' father would lift up
the box and carry out the waste. Sure better than creeping around in an
outhouse!

Pg 74 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Why did you cover your eyes," I
asked now engrossed in the conversation? Excuse
me, she said taken aback. "You said when you went into the bathroom
you would cover your eyes from the mirror, why?" Because those mirrors came from my great grandmother.
"So." My great grandmother was a high priestess in a coven of witches and
people took her very seriously. She knew how to cast spells and make magic
potions. Why she could concoct a brew for anything at all. Either to cure or to
make one ail, mattered none to her, so long as she got paid. "How do you
know so much about her?" Because my grandmother kept a diary of all her
affairs. Kind of like a spy was she in a way to her mother! Whenever she
could, she would secretly document everything her mother knew about the
occult. Had it not been for her, we may never have known. All this was
handed down to my mother who in turn gave it to me. "Do you still have it?"
No, my granddaughter has it now. Getting back to the mirrors, now let's not
lose ourselves again! The way I saw it, those mirrors were used in black
magic for all kinds of evil things and sometimes, depending on the day mind
you, they would reflect more than just fact.

The way my
mother saw it, it was merely a family heirloom that had been handed down
from generation to generation as it should be. "Did she ever read it?" No,
she just kept everything neatly sorted out in boxes. "Do you
know how to cast spells?" She began acting very uncomfortable, almost
like a young girl when she hears
something displeasing. Yes, I
know how to cast spells. "Do they work?" Yes, let me start from the very beginning. This is sure to answer any
questions you may have about the dark side.
A long time ago me and my friends had this game we would play. We would make up
all these horrible stories as we went along. Well, one day I told them a
story that was told to me by my grandmother. She had me swear to her that I
would not tell another living soul about it, especially my mother, and to
that moment I had not. Anyway, we were sitting around on a bunch of old
milk crates where we would tell our stories. Her voice was beginning to
change, and I started to feel uneasy. Before I tell you this, I said to them
you must promise never to do it. Emma stood up and said, how can we promise
you something if we don't know what it is we are promising? Because this
story comes with a rule book I said, that's why! They were a bit startled by my
tone, and rightfully I would have been too. Does everyone here understand
me? She sat there looking white eyed while pointing her finger at me, as
though I'd done something reprehensible!
Pg 75 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They all agreed and so I told them. I then recited
every word of that awful spell from an actual page in my great grandmother's
book which I had copied down word for word. It took me nearly five minutes
to write it all down! Do you know that if you wake up at a certain time of
the night, you can summon a spirit beside your bedpost? There
was a terrible strain to her voice as she relayed the information from another
time and place. And did you know it can only be done when the moon is
full? If you were to get up at exactly three O'clock in the morning and cut
the palm of your hand like so. . . Without flinching! Then chant the
following words into a mirror in the dark with eyes closed and two black
candles lit side by side, you would be closer than you could ever imagine to
a hell beyond your worst nightmare.

After this, should you follow precisely
a certain incantation, someone will appear beside you in a cloak and steal
you away forever into that mirror!

*The words to the evil prayer she did not
agree to speak of*
"You mean he'd pull you inside the mirror?" No, no
child, you would open your eyes to find you are no longer standing on the
same side of it! Once that happens, bam!!! She slammed her old withered
hand down hard upon the table! You and your spirit are gone! You can
scream, but no one will ever hear you. Not in that wicked place. The place
of no reflection and no sun.

A place so dark and dreary, nothing human can
survive. A plain of time which lies between our world and the next. A
terrible place of immense suffering. "How do they come back?" Once a spirit
touches the darkness, it can never come back. "You mean they lose their
soul?" Yes and no. I acted confused and so she explained it to
me.
I found out many years later that the only way to
release a soul from that misery would be to take the mirror and smash it,
but I didn't know it at that time. "Then everything gets normal again?"
No-no-no, the body dies 'cos the heart stops beating. The brain is already
dead, now do you want to hear this story or do you want to ask questions?
All right then. . .
The following week we gathered round the milk crates
to tell more stories, but Millie hadn't come out yet. Emma then said, did
you see the moon last night? It was huge! Dear God, I thought! It suddenly
dawned on me that all this hocus-pocus from my great grandmother's crazy
book could very well prove to be real. Then I shrugged it off as I did almost
everything back then. Next day
comes. Day
after. She hadn't been to school, and she wasn't hanging around with
us, so we figured maybe she was taken ill. So me, Katlyn, Mary and Emma walked
down to Millie's house to see if everything was okay. Not even an inkling
did we have of anything being wrong in the least!
Pg 76 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When we got to the door her mother answered and let
us in. Gracie looked like she had been crying as she escorted us into the
parlor where Millicent was sitting, her back facing us. Now I believed in
witchcraft the same way people believe in magic. When you see the magician
cutting the woman in half, why is it there's no blood and how does he put
her back together again? "He can't because he really isn't cutting her in
half." Exactly, it's all an act! That is the same way I felt about witchcraft,
but I blundered. Even so, how was I to know the paper in my pocket had gone
missing? Her mom whispered something in her ear and then motioned for us to
come closer. Anna just stood there as we moved up. When I saw her sitting in
that chair I knew! I knew what I had done to her.
She had a red mark running across her forehead, and
it looked like her skull had been cracked.

That explains the page next to the spell with no
writing in it. The first was a plain forehead next to a palm of hand with a
red mark running diagonally across it. The second was the forehead with a
red mark running diagonally across it next to the plain palm of hand.
Her mother was crying hard now and holding a
handkerchief up to her nose saying, "I don't know what to do. I just don't
know what to do!!!" Mary bolted from the scene pulling Emma's lifeless arm,
and together they ran off like two frightened rabbits. Gracie then rushed
into the kitchen leaving me and Katlyn alone with Millie. As we looked into
her eyes, Millicent grabbed hold of my hand and my heart stopped beating.

Katlyn
gasped loudly and was taken by such surprise she tumbled backwards knocking over
the coffee table and shattering the vase that was on top of it! Right then
Millicent looked at me with an intense scowl! It was a look so terrifying my
skin crawled. As her grip began to tighten, I could feel every bone in my
hand pop like twigs in a fire! She snarled like a vicious animal trapped in
human clothing. Such bitter hatred! She then clamped down on her lower lip
so hard she bit clean through it.

Blood flowed from her mouth like a river and that
lip, dangling down. Miss Wade's complexion had now grown pale, and
she looked like she were about to sicken. I then noticed her eyes were no
longer her own but those of my great grandmother in Hell!

My knees gave out and I fell into her lap. As I
started to pass out, her mother came running into the parlor and her grip
released. Millie was now just a vacant shell and there was absolutely no blood
on anything at all.

My mind must have created the whole scene out of pure
horror! As I opened and closed my hand, every bone popped into place again.
I thought my mind had snapped as did the rest of the girls, I'm sure!
Whatever Katlyn saw that day must have been so frightening to her, she didn't
speak for almost a week, and we never told stories
again!
Pg 77 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What happened to Millicent," I asked? She was taken
away to a sanitarium.

Drucella now sounded very distracted, almost to the point of
worry. I so wanted to visit her one last time, and this time I wanted
to set things right. Tell her how sorry I was for opening up that can of
worms, even though I knew she was no longer in there. In her right mind,
that is.

A month later, her mom told me she died. The year
after that her mother passed away, and soon new people were living
there.

"Do you still keep in contact with Katlyn?" Katlyn
married a wealthy man and moved to North Dakota in the fall of 1916. Never
did I see or hear from her again. "What about your other friend?" Emma still
lives in the house she grew up in, she never married though. We talk on the
phone from time to time, but I haven't seen hide nor hare of her in over
fifty years. "And Mary?" Mary died during the pneumonia epidemic, November
of 1918 to be exact. When the moon is full, I see Millie in that place.

I
watch as they torture her with hot irons. Then they start to remove her toes and
fingers with cutting shears. Sometimes they just start sawing. After they
kill her it starts all over again.

I have watched her die in every conceivable way you can imagine.

It still seems so real, but I'm powerless to stop
them. "Can't they get you?" No, I'm just a watcher. "Don't you wake up?"
Not until the sun is even with the horizon. . . Every time the moon
is full.
(Her eyes began to fill with tears as she spoke)
You think we're just little old ladies who tell tall tales as we sip our tea and smile, but ask yourself this, where do you think all your horror movies come from? They come from usssssss!!!
Two years later Miss
Drucella Wade passed away quietly in her sleep. I along with my parents arrived at her wake on
Friday, April 8th, 1977. Mom and Ray were by my side as I listened to people
talking. One of the voices I heard was her granddaughter May. "I was
knocking on her door the other day, but she didn't answer. The coroner told
me she was already dead. Already dead and I just left!" Calm down honey, you
didn't know; there-there now. I heard another voice as I appeared to be
praying by her casket with eyes closed. "The coroner said she went
peacefully in her sleep on Tuesday, she lived a good life." Hey, wait a
minute, didn't we have that power outage on Tuesday? No that was Monday.
Actually, Monday morning is Tuesday, isn't it? Yes it is! Anything after
11:59 pm automatically becomes am, so therefor, Monday had already turned
into Tuesday! I woke up to go to the bathroom and all the lights popped off!
That was really creepy! The service had finally ended, and I was getting
into the car with my parents when two kids passed us. I overheard one say to
the other,
Did you see the size of that moon on Monday? It was huge! "No, I was studying."
Pg 78 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reviews for chapter 15
Jane Bryce - who is emma?
Norman Vasserman - Cool, the way your story unfolds
Ira Goldberg - Ooh, now that's scary! You write good horror!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If any image on this site is considered to be offensive, it will be removed. If it has been copied without proper consent, please contact me immediately and the image will either be removed, or credit shall be given unto the person or persons responsible. Whether it be an artist, photographer, cartoonist., etc. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PG 74) Full Bowl by Jacek Yerka
PG 75) Letting go by Matt Dangler
PG 76) Candice 13 by David Ho
PG 76) Last Sundown by Anton Semenov
PG 76) Birdhouse by Anton Semenov
PG 77) Morning by Anton Semenov
PG 77) Surrogate by Anton Semenov
PG 77) By the waters by Jacek Yerka
PG 77) Onus by Suzzan Blac
PG 77) Performance by Zdzislaw Beksiński
PG 78) Children of the war by Anton Semenov
PG 78) Andy's Room by Anton Semenov
PG 78) Death contemplating life by David Ho
PG 78) BRAZ (mechanics destroying) by Anton Semenov
PG 78) Your suffering is real by Suzzan Blac
PG 78) Detestable meat by Suzzan Blac
|