Gertie's Paranormal Plantation: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by James, Melanie

  “Sure.” Brad cleaned himself with another towel.

  “A warning, please. I’d like to get out of the line of fire if possible. And I think blowjobs are overrated.” I could tell Brad was trying to hold back his laughter. To be honest, so was I. Still, he deserved to get played with. “Oh? What’s that? Did you find some amusement in that? Hmm? If you love me, you’ll give me a big wet kiss.” I jumped at Brad like a jaguar pouncing on its prey, but he escaped by executing a perfect ninja jump over the table.

  Brad worked up a theatrical voice and he was full of sass. “Keep back, I say!” He twirled the wet towel, the disgustingly wet towel, into a whip. “If you come any closer, I’ll be forced to towel snap you!”

  I was laughing but since I was stark naked and exposed, I wasn’t wholly convinced that my safety was assured. “You wouldn’t dare. Would you?”

  “I don’t know.” Brad sang and observed the towel’s spin. “Oh, don’t worry, I was just playing. I wouldn’t. Probably. Especially since I have a black belt in locker room martial arts. I would hate to put a mark on that cute little ass of yours. Watch this.” Brad tightened the soaked towel and displayed a skill level that had been honed by years of high school gym classes and locker room horseplay. Brad lashed out the sunflower patterned, terrycloth bullwhip far clear of where I stood.

  Unfortunately, it just happened to be the exact moment that Esmeralda, Randy, and Marie came into the kitchen. Esmeralda was in the exact spot for a perfect hit. Her short skirt left the very top part on the back of her thigh exposed.

  CRACK!

  Esmeralda squealed. She didn’t scream. She squealed. Everyone seemed to have become paralyzed. I covered my face with my hands and waited for the lightning bolts. We didn’t even care that we were naked. Brad stood there, towel hanging down from his hand, looking like he just witnessed Elvis in a hot pink thong doing a disco. I peeked out between my fingers. Esmeralda lifted her little skirt and examined the bright red welt that traveled up her thigh and up her left ass cheek. I gasped at what I saw. She didn’t just examine it, she admired it.

  “Next time I come over, I’ll show you what a real whip looks like. And how to use it,” Esmeralda said in a steady voice that wasn’t quite a threat. She was looking at Brad’s body and then at mine. I knew that look in her eye. The same look that Randy had. I took the towel and quickly covered the chubby pastry chef.

  I couldn’t believe we had lost track of time. Marie winked at me and announced, “Get dressed, lovebirds. We will be leaving for the Norse realm of Hel in fifteen minutes.”

  Brad and I ran from the kitchen and headed up the stairs, our laughter echoed off the walls in the parlor below.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Portal Opens

  “When did you guys get here anyway?” Brad asked as we came down from my room.

  “We’ve been here long enough, if that’s what you’re wondering. I would have knocked, but since I actually live here, it didn’t seem necessary.” Randy quipped. “But don’t worry, we didn’t go into the kitchen to catch the floorshow.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Esmeralda sneered. “Don’t worry, I’m not one to judge. I have to say, the way you were riding him I half expected to hear a horse galloping.”

  “Damn! Witch. I can’t believe you said that.” Randy chuckled with Esmeralda.

  Always able to get the last word, Esmeralda mocked my Irish tinged pirate’s orgasm. “Aarrgh, don’t ya stop feckin’ me, Brad. Aarrgh.” She cackled like the witch she is.

  Brad took a stand for me. “Esmeralda, shouldn’t you be out trying to steal some ruby slippers?”

  I knew the wicked witch reference. “Ha! Good one, Brad. Fist me!”

  Randy’s stunned face twitched. “Oh. My. God. Gertie. You didn’t just say that.”

  “This, I want to see. You two are some kinky exhibitionists. Go on, Brad, do it. Judging by the size difference between you two, it’ll be like watching Andre the Giant using a munchkin for an oven mitt.” Esmeralda pumped her fist up and down.

  “It’s fist bump, Sunshine.” Brad tapped my fist with his.

  I snagged Randy and whispered, “She’s being quite sassy today. Even for her. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, she just…um, remind me to tell you later. I don’t want to get maimed right now.”

  “Gather around children. Gather around.” Marie called for us. “We are about to enter a realm where our witchcraft may not work the way we would like it to. And since we are going to a spiritual plane, we require a shaman to guide us through the cosmic portal, as well as to retrieve us.”

  “A shaman? Where do we get a shaman at the last minute?” Randy asked.

  An older couple walked through the door of the drawing room. “Did someone ask for a shaman? Perhaps a shamaness? Ta-da! Two for one special, man.” It was a sweet old couple that I instantly recognized, Max and Millie, the parents of Leigh’s fiancé, Hunter. The loveable, leftover hippies own a little store in Chicago. Brad calls it a head shop, but I’ve never seen any heads there, only a wide variety of ornate pipes, hookahs, and other smoking accessories. Millie sells crystals and incense and provides her services as a psychic and medium. Max’s long grey hair was in a ponytail and his beard hung over his unbuttoned Hawaiian print shirt. Millie was in a tie dyed dress that hung down to her ankles.

  “Millie? Max? I had no idea you’d be coming!” I ran to them and we joined in a three way hug. As usual, Max gave me the extended version hug with a few extra squeezes. As a dyed-in-the-wool hugger myself, I was impressed as always. Max is such a diehard hugger that he often doesn’t stop hugging me until Millie gives him a few pokes.

  “Hey! For a second I thought Tommy Chong stopped by.” Randy patted Max on the back and gave Millie a hug. “Good to see you, Millie.”

  “Max and Millie have agreed to perform the shamanistic rituals. They’ll be the gatekeepers on this side of the portal.” Marie explained.

  “Yeah, man. Check it out.” Max cleared his throat and deepened his voice, although he still had that funny slur to it. “I am Max, gatekeeper to the portal of Helheim, man. Respect me!” I gave him my applause. Max was proud and grateful. “Yeah? Pretty cool, huh?”

  “So righteous, man.” When addressing Max or Millie, I sometimes tried to speak in their hippie dialect out of respect.

  “Check out Madam Millie, gatekeeperess to the portal. She’s already gettin’ started in the drawing room.” Max pointed out Millie, who was busy setting out incense burners and candles. He put his hands on his hips and looked around with admiration. “I’m diggin’ the trippy way you did this place. It’s like a museum for the surrealist art movement.” He nodded his head like he agreed with himself. “Yeah. Yeah.”

  “Well, I don’t know what that means, but thanks. I just like a lot of color and letting my imagination run wild.” I watched Millie light candles and noticed Wanda wasn’t around.

  “Hey, Marie? Where is Wanda? Isn’t she coming with?” I figured Wanda would be indispensable in a Norse magical realm.

  “She’s already on the other side. She wanted to go first and ensure that it would be safe enough for all of us.”

  “Uh, Marie? How can she tell you what it’s like over there?” Randy asked.

  Marie held up a small black device that looked like a cellphone. “This. We just got these in. Witches can use these to communicate between dimensions. Not sure how good the range is on them yet. I’ve been in touch with Wanda. So far so good. They’re pretty handy. I need to come up with a good name to call them other than Interdimensional Special Telecommunication Device.”

  Esmeralda gave it some thought. “I know! How about we call it a spell phone. Get it? Like a cellphone for witches?”

  “Boooo!” moaned Randy.

  “Hold on fools, I just received a message from Wanda. She said we’re clear to come over. She had one request. She wants us to bring Olaf along. I can only guess why.”

  “He’d love that. Hold on.” I op
ened the front door and whistled as loud as I could. “Olaf! Olaf!” I called, and in less than a minute the rhinoceros sized dragon bounded over the yard and onto the porch. “Come on inside, boy.” I scratched his snout and led him into the drawing room. “You want to go for a walk together?” Olaf’s rattling purr was his way of saying yes.

  “Millie, are you certain this portal will take us to Hel?”

  “Yes, but technically speaking, we didn’t set this up to take you to Hel. Max and I have written out the magic code so that it will take you specifically to the home of Groa,” Millie explained.

  Marie took a minute to consider Millie’s idea and nodded in approval. “Good thinking, Millie.”

  We passed by Millie as we entered the drawing room. I noticed that she held a wooden bowl filled with a bright blue powder. “Max, baby? Come here, time to slap your bongos.” Millie squeaked. In the middle of the room was a garden arch I recognized as one of the arches from my back yard. “Everyone, hold hands.”

  Max’s bongos started out slowly and the candles threw shadows on the walls that seemed to pick up on the rhythm. Millie began her dance. She sang and chanted. I couldn’t make out any of the mysterious words that sprung from her lips. She tossed the powder at the arch and then over us. Nothing happened.

  Esmeralda noticed something first. “About time. This is pretty basic stuff. I thought she’d never get it opened.”

  I took a closer look and noticed a small glimmer of green and blue. Then it spread through the entire archway.

  Marie beckoned me with the end of the wooden staff she had brought along. “Gertie, take the dragon. Wanda will be waiting. Then the rest of us will be right behind you. Max and Millie will stay here, maintaining the portal. And the first one to use some damn cliché about taking the highway to hell, or following me to the gates of hell, or anything, anything at all about a hand-basket, I swear I’ll knock their ass up around their eyeballs.”

  Brad took my hand. I could tell from his grip that he would never let go. “Hold on, Gertie. We’ll go together.” Olaf wiggled his snout over our shoulders. With an encouraging snort, we were nudged through the portal.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Journey to a Temple

  The beam from Brad’s flashlight darted from place to place, making the snowflakes look like a million tiny falling stars. “Snow. Nothing but snow.”

  Randy, Esmeralda, and Marie joined us and we instinctively huddled close to Marie, our leader. “Stay together. Brad, you can save your flashlight, I’ve got something better.” After tapping the bottom of her staff on the ground three times, an intense bluish light blazed to the top of it. The light emanated in all directions, flooding our surroundings for hundreds of yards.

  “See. Now that’s a handy trick.” Randy commented.

  “Wanda? Waandaa!” I called out.

  “It’s me! Follow my tracks!” Wanda screeched through the snowy air from someplace downslope.

  We looked at the growing field of snow around us. “Well, that’s not happening. Any tracks are already buried in snow.” Brad pointed out.

  Olaf’s nose plowed through the snow, snorting for Wanda’s scent. He picked up Wanda’s trail and we followed him.

  “Oh, we’re going down a slippery slope now.” Randy snickered.

  The path ahead was indeed a downward slope, and large jagged rocks protruded from the glistening surface. “Are we on a mountain?” I asked. I looked back at the portal twinkling in the distance. “It’s going to be tough climb back up.”

  Marie raised her glowing staff when she found Wanda. “There she is.”

  “And she’s not alone.” Esmeralda added.

  “So, who’s that with her?” Brad nodded toward a tall, heavy man with long red hair. “Let’s get over there and check him out. I don’t like surprises like this.”

  When we finally reached Wanda, I stared at her companion. This man had a large beard, a monstrous, furry thing that one might confuse for an adolescent orangutan. A very frightened orangutan that clung to the man’s face. He towered over us. Brad is a big guy at six feet and about four inches tall and around two-hundred-fifty pounds. This Goliath was at least a full foot taller and well over three hundred pounds. The Viking carried a round wooden shield. It was painted white with three Norse runes marked in blue. An iron broadax added a menacing touch to the ensemble.

  Wanda threw her palms up. “I have no idea. He hasn’t said a word. Right after I went through the portal, I walked ahead for a couple of minutes. When I turned around, he was following me. Scared the daylights out of me, but he seems completely harmless. I do know one thing, he’s a Viking. Look at how he’s dressed.”

  Marie circled the man. “You’re exactly right, Wanda. And that Viking outfit he’s wearing sure beats the one Svippy stole from the Mardi Gras storage. No purple plumed pot top for this guy. And he’s got more leather on him than a small herd of cattle.” She touched his hair, smiled, and nodded approvingly.

  Esmeralda whispered to me. “It’s as if she’s admiring him. It’s odd. I’m suspicious of that man. Why is he here?”

  “Lucky guy, no spandex for him.” Brad shook his head and scratched his waistline. “That crap leaves a nice reminder. I think I’m developing a rash.”

  “I guess it’s called a memory fabric for more than one reason.” Randy chided him. “Can we move along? It’s damn cold out here.”

  “Colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra.” Brad barely got the words out of his mouth before Esmeralda nailed him in the face with a snowball. “Present company excluded.” Melting snow sputtered from his mouth.

  “Let’s move, kids.” Wanda chuckled as she walked downhill. Marie and the Viking were right behind her. Olaf knelt down and I welcomed the gesture by climbing onto his back. Brad declined the dragon’s offer and Randy hesitated, but only for a few seconds before he hopped over Olaf’s haunches. Randy made himself comfortable behind me.

  “This is definitely a mountain slope. We’ve been going downhill forever.” I mentioned to Randy.

  “The portal is barely visible now.” Brad added.

  “Look! Up ahead. It looks like a church. I’ve seen this kind before. A Norwegian stave church.” Esmeralda pointed out the ornately crafted wooden building that was now being illuminated by Marie’s magical torch. The place had four levels of sharply pitched roofs, each level smaller than the one below it, creating a pyramid-like silhouette. The uppermost and smallest roof structure formed a central spire that was pointed skywards like a church steeple. Intricately carved beams provided support. The ends of each beam jutted outward from the building in order to display painstakingly carved dragon heads on every beam.

  “Similar, yes. But this is a Norse pagan temple.” Wanda explained.

  It seemed like the temple sensed our approach. Long torches extended out from each level and were simultaneously lit in a fiery show. Olaf became agitated. His neck swayed from side to side and he started to walk in a zig-zag pattern.

  Brad stopped and asked Marie, “So what’s the plan? How do you think we should handle this? Go inside or wait to see what happens?”

  “Or just keep going…I think,” Randy whispered in my ear.

  Wanda answered. “I think we should go in together. All of us. Maybe Groa is in there. What do you say, Marie?”

  “I agree. There’s strength in numbers. Let’s pay a visit,” Marie replied and we continued toward the temple.

  “Duh…Maybe Groa is in there. Duh. Let’s go into her trap.” Randy mocked her in a thick-tongued ‘talking stupid’ voice.

  “Randy, be nice.” I scolded him.

  “Seriously, don’t you people ever watch movies? If we go in there, it’ll be like flies landing on a spider web. We’ll be trapped.”

  “Someone remind me to knock his teeth out later.” Marie snarled.

  Olaf slowed down and trailed far behind the others. Brad stayed alongside us. When Marie, Wanda, and the Viking went to the huge wooden door, Esmeralda d
oubled back. “I think I’ll stay back here and observe.”

  Marie tapped the end of her staff on the door. “Trick or treat, bitch.”

  Olaf snorted and took a few steps back. He cocked his head left and then right. “Olaf hears something. Listen.” A slow, steady rhythm of very heavy footsteps grew louder as someone approached the door. I patted his neck. “It’s okay, boy. Just relax.”

  The door opened. Marie waved her staff over the threshold. Nobody was there. She didn’t need to ask us to follow her when she walked in. There was no doubt that we would never leave her to go in alone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Into the Lair

  Randy and I dismounted and joined the others already inside. I couldn’t help but think of the time it took for someone to have carved so much wood. The craftsmanship was truly remarkable and beautiful. While I was busy admiring the stave temple, Marie’s torch flashed on and off and then died. Torches on the walls provided light, but it was dim and unsteady.

  Marie shook her staff. “I expected as much. Our magic will not work in here. From here on, it will all come down to using our wits.”

  “That’s some bad luck. We’re completely unprepared for that sort of thing.” I commented.

  Wisps of black fog snaked out from the recesses where the flickering torchlight couldn’t reach. “Wha—what is that?” Randy’s voice shook and he danced around, trying to avoid the vapor. The ancient oak doors slammed shut. Each side had half of a dragon carved into it. When the doors closed, an ominous warning was completed, the image of a dragon with a man trapped in its jaws.

  “Come! Come to me!” A woman’s voice. Centuries of a cold, silent existence left the voice ragged, dry, and forlorn. “You have no choice. Come.”