Haunting Leigh: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Literal Leigh Romance Diaries Book 4)

by Melanie James

  “Please.” Kelly said in her smartass tone. “Relax. It’s just her titty pockets. Like you have never done this at some point? Let me read it.” Kelly snapped the note from Gertie’s hand.

  “Yeah, Lindsey, don’t worry about it. Lady boobs are kosher. It’s not as if she pulled it out of my Uncle Ron’s sweaty ass crack.” I nodded to my sweaty uncle who was still laboring to crack jokes and pleading for laughs at a nearby table.

  “Lindsey! Look at this. Elspeth said that because of the circumstances under which we came in contact with the Grimoire, it means that it specifically sought us out. According to Elspeth, we are really witches! You, me, even my boneheaded brother. I wonder what happens next. It’s not like we have any cool witchcraft yet.”

  “Really? I guess you were right, Gertie. Elspeth just confirmed it. This is going to be great!”

  “That is awesome! My best friends get to join me in this witchy lifestyle. My guess is that you’ll be summoned to the union just like I was. Maybe Elspeth’s spell book will contain all of the powers you will be able to use.”

  Chapter Six

  Runaway Golem Continued

  Mondays aren’t my favorite day of the week. Thankfully, I get the support from a classroom of children that actually enjoy being in school on Monday. I guess they have yet to learn the pain Monday can inflict on the soul. Often it’s their enthusiasm alone that pulls me through the day.

  “Is everyone excited to hear the rest of our story, The Runaway Golem?” My eyes scanned eager students who cheered a resounding, “Yes!”

  “Can someone tell me where we left off on Friday?”

  I’ve come to the conclusion that Ben ought to start wearing some sort of support to hold his little arm up. “So far, Ben thinks he remembers. Anyone else?”

  Jennifer raised a hand. “Where is Gertie?” Her question was backed up by the support of the other students. “Yeah. Where’s Gertie? We like her best!”

  “I’m sorry, but Miss O’Leary had to go back home to Louisiana last night.” I paused to allow the booing to subside. “Okay, Ben. Please tell us where we left off.”

  Ben recounted the last point in the story. “Ben found out that his grandparents and their friend the Rabbi made a golem to help them around their farm. When Ben’s grandpa took him to the barn to see the golem, it was gone. They think it ran away.”

  “Very good, Ben. That was exactly where we left off.” I continued the story.

  Ben’s grandma and Rabbi Silverstein followed Ben back to the barn.

  “Oh no! How will we find it?”

  “Grandpa? What does it look like?” Ben asked.

  “It’s big and tall. So tall that it had to bend over to stand in the barn.” Grandpa said.

  “It’s made from clay, so it has the same reddish color as my clay flower pots.” Grandma added.

  “It looks a little like a big gingerbread man,” said the Rabbi.

  “No. It looked more like a Pillsbury Dough Boy.” Grandpa corrected him.

  Ben thought about it. Something that big should be very easy to find. They looked everywhere for the golem, but they still couldn’t find it.

  Ben thought harder. The golem was made to help people and he must be getting hungry. They just had to find a place where he could help people and get something to eat.

  “What do you have to do with the golem when you find him? Can you just turn him off?”

  “We have to remove a piece of paper from his mouth. That is the magic that makes him come to life.”

  Everyone followed Ben to the small town. They found the golem loading a delivery truck with fresh baked bread. Suddenly Ben had an idea. If they wanted the golem to come back to the barn, they needed to trick him. They went to the grocery store that was located next to the bakery. Then in the loudest voice he could find, Ben pretended to be talking to the grocer. “I’m sorry, but there will be no apples from the orchard this year. Our golem was going to help us, but he ran away. He shouldn’t have walked away from his job. The golem heard Ben and started to come towards him. Ben ran as fast as he could to the barn and went inside. The golem followed him in and as soon as the golem came in, grandpa and grandma hit him with hammers and smashed the golem into little bits. The Rabbi took away the piece of magic paper and gave it to Ben to keep. The end.

  “That’s it? There isn’t anything else?” Ben asked.

  “That’s lame, Miss Epstein,” said Mia. “Why did the Rabbi give Ben that magic note? You made it sound like Ben was going to maybe make his own golem with it. That’s just a big stupid cliffhanger!”

  “You really should have put a little more effort into that story, Miss Epstein. There was so much more you could have done with that,” whined another little voice.

  Then I heard a loud banging sound from behind me. It was more like the deep resonating boom of a fist being pounded against a heavy glass window pain. I turned around and that is exactly what it was. I looked at the vertical rectangular windows that lined the wall. A large white club-like thing relentlessly beat on one of the windows. The children started to scream and I chased everyone out to the hallway. I looked back at the window and I saw it. A large round white head appeared. Its face looked like it had been crudely drawn on and given color with markers and crayons. The pane shattered and debris from the frame flew into the room. With a violent butt of its head, the pasty looking creature had rammed its body halfway into the room. “It’s the papier-mâché golem! It’s alive! Alive! Come to life!” Their shrieks filled the corridor.

  My concern was only for the safety of my students. “Lock yourselves in your assigned bathrooms just like we practiced!” I pulled the alarm on the wall. In minutes this creature would be facing a tactical force with the ability to overthrow a small country. We were well prepared for this sort of thing. Well, not a golem thing, but you get the point. I was ready, confident, and brave. I’d let that golem tear me apart before it got to my kids. “Magic! Ah hah!” I realized I could take this thing out. I slipped and fell on the trash created by the monster’s thrashing movements. I had to make it to my desk. It seemed so difficult and it took an impossible bout of strength to reach up to my desk and snag my purse, but I did it. I took out my broom and looked up, ready to zap us both away to any place but my classroom.

  I was too late. It fell on me and smothered me with all of its strangely soft material. It was lighter than I expected, yet I couldn’t find a way to get free. Then I felt it bite me with its pointy teeth. Are they venomous? I wondered. It was futile to resist. All that was left now were my muffled screams.

  “Leigh! Leigh!” Hunter pulled the sheets off of me. “Are you all right? It looked like you were wrestling a bear under the sheets.”

  “Huh? What? Where’s the golem? Is this where I zapped us to?” I was bewildered at first. Then I screamed. “It’s here. I know it is! I took it here!”

  “Leigh, calm down.” Hunter sat up and put his arms around me. “It was just a bad dream, baby. There’s no golem here. You were dreaming like crazy, thrashing around and mumbling. You started crawling around under the sheet like you were looking for something. I guess you got all tangled up. Luna got worked up by the sheets popping up and down. She pounced on them and was biting, so I chased her off.”

  “Huh. Just a dream. Ugh.” I said and laid down on Hunter’s lap.

  Hunter held me and ran his fingers through my hair. “Yeah, it seemed like one hell of a nightmare. A golem of all things. You hardly ever hear stories about golems.”

  “Oh, it’s because we were coming up with a new Halloween story in class based on folklore and legends. Gertie and I started writing one and I read the first half to the class. I am supposed to have the rest of the story for them tomorrow. My subconscious must have been trying to tell me I had forgotten to finish writing the story. I am totally unprepared.”

  “I don’t know about this, Leigh. From any golem story I remember, they always end badly. Like horror movie bad. I know that the basic message is t
hat humans often become overconfident in their ability to control the power of creation—of life itself. The creature starts out pretty tame, but before long, all of the negative forces of mankind have some sort of effect on it. The creator loses control of the golem and it goes off on a killing spree. Sometimes the golem kills its very creator.”

  I thought a little bit about what Hunter said. I knew he was right. The whole premise of a golem story was that it had to end disastrously in order to make a point. “I think the lessons taught by the old golem legends were a big influence on the books Frankenstein as well as Rossum’s Universal Robots, which in turn was the genesis of all robot, cyborg, or android science fiction stories. And…you’re right. Every one of those stories ends badly.”

  “Maybe you ought to nix the golem story for the kids. You know? What with magic becoming reality around here these days and all.” I nodded and closed my eyes. The last anxious remnant of the nightmare was gone and I drifted back to sleep in Hunter’s embrace.

  Chapter Seven

  Manic Monday

  What is worse than a Monday? Answer—having a dream on Sunday night that it is Monday, then waking up and repeating Monday morning in real time. It’s like a cruel episode of déjà vu custom crafted in your own personal hell.

  My early arrival was typical. That is one habit I am happy to have developed in order to be ready for the day. I entered my empty classroom with a sense of trepidation. I knew that it was silly, but expected after having vividly envisioned a wild golem attack, albeit a nightmare. I took a breath and went to my desk to go over a few papers and the lesson plans for the day. When I glanced up at the clock, my eye caught a sight in one corner of the room. The student’s handmade golem was propped up against the wall. The crayon and marker smudged face didn’t seem as cute anymore. There was no way I was going to be able to handle having that thing in the room. The feeling I got from its presence was more than uncomfortable. It was downright creepy.

  I started to plot its demise. I should take that damned thing out back and toss it in the trash bin before any students show up. How could I explain it to the kids? They’ll think it became a real runaway golem. I imagined myself accidentally crashing into it until it was nothing more than a papier-mâché scrap pile. Maybe I’ll tell them the custodian accidentally knocked it over. No. I can’t. I couldn’t do it. They worked so hard on their promethean creation. A golem piñata? That’s not a bad idea, but I would never be able to talk them into it. I just need to get it out of my classroom. I’ve got it! I had solved my problem. I didn’t need to destroy the golem, just get it the hell out of there.

  I’d need to be very careful. Halloween was officially banned from the secular public school system. Halloween is in no way acknowledged to exist. Imagine somewhere, a fun-sucking, fuzzy-brained, academic genius decided that we can’t actually have “Halloween” parties or wish each other “Happy Halloween.” The majority of my fellow teachers don’t let that bit of hypocritical silliness stop us from sharing Halloween’s rich tradition of literature, music, history, and folklore with our students. Kids are kids, no matter the religion, race, or culture. All kids love to make a costume and have a day filled with magical Halloween fun. I know I loved it when I was a little girl and I still do today. Judging from the multimillion dollar business that is generated by Halloween, it’s more popular than ever in our culture. So, it’s pretty obvious, I’m not alone in my love for this fun time of year.

  It’s strange. Even now that I am an adult, I can find myself occasionally spooked by a vivid nightmare. In all reality, it was just a crazy dream and the golem in my classroom was nothing more than paper and glue. Yet, there I was clumsily picking up the golem and dragging it out into the hallway. My destination was the library. My mission was to quietly place the sculpture among a display of autumn decorations that various classes had created from books they read—not Halloween related, autumn related. Just for the record, in the public school system those are two totally different things.

  I nearly jumped out of my pink Sketchers when a high pitched voice pierced my brain. “Miss Epstein? What are you doing in here with that…whatever it is?” She made a weird clucking sound with her tongue. “That better not be a Halloween ghost or something. You of all people know that we do not refer to religious themed holidays in this school.” Great, it was Clarice Can-I Buy-A-vowel-Strznczkl. She was practically the flag bearer for the holiday hating crowd. Her last name had been informally changed by the staff and student body after a previous surprise run in I had with her.

  I remembered it well. It was my first day of my first year. In one of my ‘I didn’t know anyone was around’ moments, I was going over a list of the faculty to familiarize myself with the names. When I saw Clarice’s name, I tried to pronounce it out loud. “Stir Zinkel? No, Strazenchekachek. I give up! How about Clarice Can-I-buy-a-vowel?” Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone. One should be aware that librarians are stealthy by nature. I never knew she had arrived behind me, along with several members of the faculty. Everyone had a good laugh at my comment. All except Clarice. I felt just awful. I wasn’t trying to insult her, I was only frustrated at my inability to come up with a reasonable pronunciation. It turns out that stealth is not Clarice’s only trait. The other would be her deep and relentless hatred of me.

  Think quick, Leigh. You can’t tell her it’s a golem for the display. She knows we don’t have any golem books. She looked. And she thought supernatural creatures were not appropriate for celebrating autumn themed books. She’s one of the fun sucking Halloween haters. “Oh this? Um…it’s Frosty.” Damn it, Leigh, Frosty isn’t Halloween! “Appleseed. As in Johnny.” I have no idea why I said that. Maybe because I felt so intimidated by her. She was an older woman with salt and pepper hair pulled up into a tight bun, a sallow complexion, and a very grouchy demeanor.

  “Frosty Appleseed?”

  “The students made Johnny Appleseed, but as you can see, it turned out more like Frosty the Snowman. So they gave him a funny nickname.” Oh shit! Now she is going to think I’m alluding to her nickname.

  “I see.” She clucked a little more. “It seems, Miss Epstein, that you have a proclivity for affronting that which should be sacrosanct in our literary heritage and in individual personage.”

  What? Who talks like that? An asshole, that’s who. “I’m sorry. The students didn’t mean to insult Johnny Appleseed.” You cranky bitch.

  “You can leave it here, Miss Epstein, but I must warn you, I have heard some of your students mentioning certain things in regard to holidays that bear a religious connotation. If that is the case, I will have no choice but to report it.”

  “Err, I don’t know about any of that. I’m not much of a religious person. So, I’ll leave old Frosty Appleseed right here then. Have a good day, Clarice.” God, does she always have to be such a bitch? Really? I have never heard of Halloween as being a contemporary religious holiday. It’s F U N, something I’m sure you know nothing about. Bitch.

  “Humph.” That was the only sound she made as I turned and walked out of the library.

  With Frosty Appleseed the golem alone with Clarice for the day, I returned to my classroom which had started to fill up with chattering little faces. Once we were settled in, I had to break the news. “I’m sorry to tell you that we will not be finishing The Runaway Golem.” They responded to my announcement with typical boos, moans, and questions. Following my nightmare and my subsequent talk with Hunter, I had already resolved to not finish the golem story. Now, Clarice—the fun sucking Halloween hater—had practically offered herself up as an unsuspecting scapegoat.

  “Just this morning, I was reminded by our librarian that we cannot have any Halloween themed activities. I removed the golem you made and took it down to the library, where it is now part of the autumn literature art display. Only now you cannot call him a golem. He is now Johnny Appleseed from the story we recently read about him. Also, since he looks very much like Frosty the Snowman, I just told the li
brarian that we’ll call him Frosty Appleseed.” Subtle moans and groans grew and then faded. Just like that, my golem problems were suddenly gone.

  Clarice had created an entirely new problem. When we returned to the classroom, a little girl named Izzy ran up and hugged me. “I’m sorry, Miss Epstein.”

  Before I could ask what she had done, I was rushed by Dylan and Peter. “Sorry, too.” Dylan mumbled.

  “What happened? Why is everyone sorry?”

  Peter explained. He pointed his finger at the other two. “They told on you! Miss Canibuyavowel talked to us. She said she didn’t believe our thing we made was Frosty Appleseed. She wanted to know what it was. They told her the story you read. They told her it was really a golem. They snitched on you!”

  The kids sang like canaries and I was sure they jumbled up parts of the story. Clarice heard what she wanted to hear. So what? I got caught in a lie about an art project. I didn’t let it bother me long. I just had to wait and see if Clarice would pull some underhanded trick.

  Chapter Eight

  Furious Leigh

  Even though you are finally done with the work day, Monday has several more hours to play around. She isn’t done messing with you yet, not by a long shot. And Mondays by nature are going to throw something unexpected, unwelcomed, un-anything right in your face, just to see what you’re going to do about it. That was the case when I got home.

  My apartment was quiet. I had hoped that Hunter would be there, but I was greeted by Luna. I flopped into my comfortable chair, flung my shoes off, and held Luna. She seemed very agitated.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you acting all squirrelly?”

  “Meow.” She jumped down and returned a minute later. A yellow scrap of paper hung from her mouth.

  “Whatcha got there? A note?” I took the note and recognized Hunter’s handwriting. It was a little wrinkled from Luna, but the message was loud and clear.