liquid Venus, scent of musk.
Hear my words from Moon to Moon;
Cite the Lord & Lady's Rune
By the law of three times three,
so mote it be....”
We recited this at the top of our lungs until we walked out the front door, our voices now hoarse though we were triumphant at escaping the house behind us. We collapsed against the door, laughing – only for laughs to turn to screams when something thumped loudly. We did what anyone would do, that day. We ran, ran and never turned back to look for what had made that noise.
We never looked back after that, never went back to the De’Morte house – though we heard that it had tried to be knocked down, only to be back the next day as though nothing was wrong. The house and the spirit it had housed. I like to think we grew up that day, but that night also symbolized the breaking point of our little group – me and Krystal found a coven to join, training us to be better in the service of our Goddess and God than we were. Tony changed too, becoming withdrawn and almost appearing haunted after the events of that night.
Edward and Sara started going out, and became the golden couple of our school – but despite our differences, every time something happened in the De’Morte house – our eyes would meet and we would shiver in remembered fear and panic at the way what had happened had twisted us so savagely that even Krystal and I argued when she suggested going back to the house and making sure that the spirit was to rest. I didn’t care, and fortunately – she listened to me...this time.
We were even more grateful that we never went back there when we opened up the newspaper one day, to the small headline that made tears roll down our cheeks.
Local Boy, 19, hangs himself outside the De’Morte house. Tony Maggorio was found hanging outside, from the large tree that overshadows the property. Foul play is not believed to have happened. More will come when the autopsy reports are in.
We both knew why, it was two years after we had done that fateful Ouija board, but it was poor Tony who had paid the price for our childishness.
Ghost Reapers
by
Rebecca Gober
"Excuse me, Miss!" A young man calls out from a booth in the back.
Realizing he's calling to me, I set down the maple syrup container I was filling, wipe my hands on my wrinkled apron and head over to his table.
"Yes, may I help you?" I ask not looking up from my notepad. Eye contact is not really my thing. Too many emotions can be received through a simple gaze. Nearing the end of my double shift, I've just about hit my pain quota for the day and my meds are already wearing off.
"Oh yes you can." He says in a flirtatious tone that hints of a man who is used to getting his way.
I roll my eyes. My head is down, focused on my notepad so he doesn't notice. It's not uncommon for me to get hit on by men based purely on my outward appearance. If they saw what was inside me though, the shell of a girl that I once could have been, who screams inwardly in torment; they would turn and flee from me. People, they don't look deep, so I just brush off the wasted advances knowing that they can offer me nothing.
I clear my throat waiting for him to give me a real answer.
"Well then, can I have a menu please?" He asks amused.
Great he's one of those guys who like a challenge. Without responding to him I grab a menu from the booth behind me and hand it to him continuing to avoid eye contact as to not encourage him in anyway.
I stand there trying to be patient while I wait for him to make his drink order. He whistles while he reads the selection.
To make a point I start tapping my foot in annoyance only to realize that the front part of my shoe is breaking apart from the sole. Just great! Unlike the average nineteen year old, a pair of shoes is the last thing I want to spend my money on. An unnecessary expenditure for such a thing cuts into my savings, which means I will have to wait another month for my procedure.
A month is excruciatingly long when all you think of and all that you feel is pain. I have been so wracked with pain that it has become a part of me; it has become who I am. Since my seventh birthday it has been there, taunting me, prickling every edge of my soul. There is a way to turn it off. Ghosting is the medical term for the procedure. A permanent fix that turns off all human emotions and feelings; it's rarely recommended except to those with the most extreme gifts.
A gift; what a ludicrous name for this plague that thrashes my very soul. The doctors confirmed that my circumstance qualifies me for the procedure but it comes with a hefty price tag. I have been saving up for it ever since I can remember. Employed in some shape or form since I was ten, I have saved nearly all of my income in anticipation of getting rid of this agony that has haunted my life.
The man clears his throat and finally gives an answer. "I would like coffee and a slice of blueberry pie please."
"Okay, may I have your MediCard?" I ask. That's when I make the mistake of looking up and into his eyes. I vaguely hear the clank of my pen hitting the ground right before I'm caught up in it. A feeling of utter tranquility washes over me in intense waves. It rushes steadily over me, hypnotizing me by some great force while I stare into this stranger's crystal clear green eyes. A small voice from within me tells me to stop staring, that I'm being rude, but I ignore it. Instead I continue swimming in the feeling of peace that these steadfast eyes bestow upon me.
His voice stirs me from my hypnotic state. He hands me his MediCard.
I hesitate a moment because to grab his card from him would mean I'd have to look down, away from the emerald city that lies deep within those eyes. His eyebrows rise a bit in question.
Being caught in the act of staring should make me blush, but nothing embarrasses me. I do on the other hand need all of the tips I can get, so I'd better stop staring and get back to work. I have to forcefully blink my eyes to sever the connection. The instant my eyes retreat from his, I feel it, the icy cold loss of serenity.
Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs, I quickly brush off the strange connection I just had and grab his MediCard. I scan it with my tablet and wait for a response. It beeps a minute later with a conditional approval. I show my tablet's screen to him saying, "You may have a slice of blueberry pie and black coffee. You do not have a caloric allotment left today for cream or sugar. Is this okay or would you like to revise your order?"
The insurance companies control the government these days, which means that our every action is being medically tallied and controlled in order to reduce medical treatment costs. The MediCard monitors our weekly exercise regime and our daily caloric allotment. It's just another way our government controls our lives.
He raises one eyebrow and gives me a sly boyish smile. He is a rather stunning young man. Not that I care much about physical appearances but this man's black hair provides a striking contrast to the bright color of his green eyes. He winks and says, "Black coffee it is then. Thank you, Austin."
I'm not sure why, but I get flustered when he says my name. Perhaps it's the way my name lingered on his lips, as if he knew me intimately. I look down at my chest for the reminder that my name is engraved on my nametag.
Two can play at that game I think to myself. "You are welcome, Chance." I say boldly after reading his name on his MediCard.
A jolt is sent through my system when I go to hand him back his card accidentally making contact with his hand in the process. I gasp as the intense feeling cycles through my blood stream. I'm not sure how to describe the sensation other than euphoric. I realize that my hand is still making contact with his but I can't seem to pull it away due to some unseen magnetic force holding it steadfast. I look up into his eyes and a dizzying sensation washes over me. A second later I find myself floating in the air, weightlessly carried like a feather through the cafe and out the front door into the cold night. Icy snowflakes melt on my warm cheeks. I don't feel cold though, only warmth. Relishing in the carefree ethereal feeling I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy this moment. I can't po
ssibly process what is happening or causing this; all I know is that for the first time in my life, I feel no pain. I don't even feel that dull ache that is still residually left after I take my meds for the day. This must be what it feels like to ghost I think to myself.
"Austin, you need to open your eyes now." Chance says in a hushed but urgent tone. I shake my head 'no'. I'm swimming in elation and I can't bear to pull myself out.
"Yes, you need to open them now." He says again, more urgently this time.
I don't listen to him and a moment later I'm jolted awake and lying alone on the snow covered ground. I open my mouth to scream out in agony but I'm rolling in a pain so deep that my brain can't process it fast enough to even make my vocal chords work. My eyes are open now but the pain is so intense that I feel as if I'm blinded by it and all I can see is darkness. The arctic cold air blasts at my exposed skin and sends prickling goose bumps across my bare arms.
I vaguely hear my name being called over and over again.
"Austin, look at me. Look at me Austin!" Chase is yelling in my ear now. This time he touches me slightly dulling the pain. He uses his hands to guide my head upwards to meet his eyes. "Look at me Austin." He says again.
I comply and will my eyes to focus on his. Like the lens of a camera going into focus I see into Chance's eyes. With it comes the peace I had felt earlier in the cafe. I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly as the excruciating pain subsides. "What was that...I mean this?" I ask groggily.
"I don't have time to explain it. They are coming now and I must go. You need to get back inside the cafe now." He says urgently.
"But..." I start to say but am cut off by the shrill sound of a scream not too far away.
"I will come back for you. I promise." He says helping me to my feet. He brushes my hair away from my face and gives me a gentle guiding push towards the cafe door.
I look back when I reach the door to see him still standing there, yet he's poised to run. "Now." He says demandingly.
Although I don't want to, I turn and go inside. Once I'm safely in the doors I look out the window to find him gone. Emptiness settles into me with his absence, which is strange since I had never met Chance before. I don't have time to dwell on it when I see them. To the naked eye they look like average people, but I know better. The two men walking down the empty street are Ghost Reapers. I know because I have seen men like them before, a long time ago.
I still remember that night that they came for my parents. It was my seventh birthday. I had just blown out the candles when we heard the first scream. It sounded like our housekeeper, Lucia.
My father grabbed my hand and told me gravely, "The time has come."
"No daddy." I remember saying as tears started flowing down my cheeks.
"Yes honey. You must go, remember the plan. We love you, but you must go now." He said sadly. He kissed me on my forehead.
My mom bent down and gave me the strongest hug she could muster. I could feel her arms shake. I knew she was scared. "I love you." She said her eyes pooled with tears.
They pushed me out the back door and into the night. Ever since I could remember, my parents would practice the plan. I was to run through the forest and loose myself inside the city. They told me that a time would come when they would need to leave me. My mother was on the run from some very bad people. She had a gift that they wanted and since she chose not to join them, they sent the Ghost Reapers to hunt her.
Reapers have a horrific gift; they take. Most Reapers control their abilities and avoid physical contact, which commences the taking. If uncontrolled a Reaper can take everything of value within a human including thoughts, emotions and memories. The process is said to be excruciating and can leave the human severely damaged or brain dead. A Ghost Reaper is a Reaper who underwent the ghosting procedure. With their emotions and feelings turned off, they are easy to control and often used by the government or other evil factions.
I never knew what my mother's gift was or why it was so wanted. I didn't understand much of anything my parents did back then.
Although I had rehearsed the escape plan over and over again with my parents, executing it was a different story. At first I hid just within the confines of the forest. When I saw the Ghost Reapers through the kitchen window I froze unable to avert my gaze. It wasn't until I heard my mother scream that I finally turned to run. I was so scared that night that I ended up taking the wrong path and tumbled off a shallow cliff.
The doctors had said I laid there for two days in the forest unconscious. I had fallen fifteen feet and broken or fractured over sixty bones in my body. I spent two months in the hospital. I pretended to have amnesia. My fingerprints didn't match any of those on file so I was labeled a Jane Doe.
I ended up in foster care. That was where I first found out what my gift was. The doctors said I was a Receiver. Similar to the average receiving device, my gift allows me to receive emotional signals or waves from those around me. Because of my personal physical and emotional pain, my body tends to receive heightened signals of the same accord from those around me. Which in short means that when those around me suffer from pain or anguish, I do as well. I spent much of my childhood in and out of hospitals and moving from home to home because of my gift. I was often immobilized by pain and it took many tests and trials for them to find a combination of medicines that could dull the pain and allow me to function semi-normally.
What I never truly understood was how my gift never sparked when my parents were alive.
I'm brought back to present when Mel, one of the servers calls my name from the back. I look back through the window and see that the Ghost Reapers are gone, then turn and head towards the back of the cafe. On my way, I look around and notice that the world hadn't stopped like I felt it had. Everyone is still going on with their eating or working without a hitch. Nobody seems to have noticed my dramatic exit or the crazed Ghost Reapers roaming the streets outside.
I head over to Mel, the server who called my name. "Yes?" I respond.
"Are you feeling better?" She asks. Her face doesn't show concern, so I can only assume that she chalked up my exit outside as one of the many dizzy spells I get when my pain gets too intense.
"Yes, sorry about that." I say.
"Why don't you go on home then." She says looking at the clock. "There's only an hour left on your shift anyhow and it's pretty slow in here."
I normally would balk at even losing one hour worth of wages, but tonight I agree without complaint. In the back of my mind I secretly hope that if I head out now, I might run into Chance.
***
Walking to work the next morning I chide myself for feeling disappointed that I didn't run into Chance last night. I have one major rule in my life that protects me. I don't allow myself to care about other people. Being close to someone means I have to feel too much and I can't afford any more pain in my life. I also receive stronger signals when I touch people, so I try to avoid all physical contact when possible.
I wonder what Chance's gift is. Whatever it is, it must be one of the few good ones left. I find myself yearning to touch him again and to get lost in the serenity it brings. Stop it Austin! I chide myself. I do not need to get mixed up with Chance; after all, if the Ghost Reapers are after him, he must be running from something awful.
My eight hour shift goes by mindlessly fast at the cafe. I found myself watching for Chance even against my better judgment. He didn't show up. When the clock strikes ten in the evening, I pull off my apron; throw on my coat and head out the door into the chilly night. My body aches and groans from the long shift and the usual pain I receive from those around me. I can feel the medicine begin to wear off and I hope to make it home quickly as to avoid any additional reception of signals from passersby’s.
I step up my pace when I turn on the street of my residence. I live in an extremely small efficiency. The building is rather run down but the walls are thick with concrete, which blocks signals from the other tenants in the. Th
at's all I can ask for these days.
I enter the building and head up the stairs towards my flat but stop midway when I see a shadowed figure standing near my door. It's not uncommon to see a petty thief in my building. I don't usually worry much about them though since I don't own anything of value. Even still, my heart picks up it's pace knowing there is a stranger nearby. I quietly reach my hand into my purse to grab out a can of pepper spray that I carry just in case. Clutching it in my hand, I cautiously continue to ascend the stairs. When I reach the top of the steps the stranger steps into the light. A rush of relief swooshes through me as I stare at Chance in wonderment.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"I promised I would come back." He says then looks down at my hand and continues, "Whoa, I can leave if you would like me to."
I look down at the pepper spray that I'm clutching. I quickly put it away in my purse then look back up towards him purposefully avoiding eye contact. Not that I don't want to experience that elated feeling again, but I need some answers first. "How do you know where I live Chance?"
"I followed you home last night." He says shamelessly.
"You...You what?" I ask caught off guard. Why would he follow me home?
"I wanted to make sure you were safe. I didn't think that they saw you with me but I had to make sure." He says.
"The Ghost Reapers?" I whisper questioningly.
His eyes open wide in surprise. "You know what they are?"
I nod in answer.
"How?" He asks.
"I don't really want to talk about it." I look away from him when I sense that he's trying to make eye contact with me.
"Anyhow, I'm safe. You see it for yourself so you may go now." I say brashly. On one hand I hope he will go and on the other, I hope he will stay. It's a lonely life that I live and having a meaningful conversation with someone is a rarity in my world.
"Yes, you are safe for now. I should leave, but I don't want to." He says the last part as if he's trying to convince himself otherwise.
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