Cursed

by Lynn Ricci

  Fearing he heard a sound, Mason quickly shut off the water and listened. His senses were heightened since seeing the cat and, really, since the cat saw him. All he could hear was the howling wind outside the bathroom window, so he dried off and returned to his room.

  Mason put on sweat pants and a t-shirt, his typical sleeping garments, and shut off the light. Pulling down the covers he slipped into his bed and thought about what the next day would bring; goodness or evil. And, just how much he should tell Sarah? Contemplating different scenarios of telling her everything, telling her just enough, or telling her nothing and asking her to leave. Or, he could just cut to the chase with telling her his suspicions and have her laugh at him, or worse yet, fear him. A headache was starting to settle in from the worrying, but the bottom line was he wasn’t sure if she would believe any of his tale, and if she didn’t, then where would that leave them? Sarah didn’t seem to remember anything and perhaps that might still be best for everyone. He could think more about his next steps tomorrow.

  Exhausted from the day, the physical labor of keeping the building clear of the heavy snow and the emotional strain of the situation on the third floor, Mason drifted into a quick, although troubled, sleep.

  

  The screams began in the dark hours before dawn. At first Mason thought he was still sleeping, visions of hissing cats mixing with the muffled screams, but as he came awake, he realized they were inside the building. Faint, but he was now sure of it. They were coming from Sarah’s apartment.

  He sat up in bed a little faster than he normally would and his spine, having grown twisted into an unnatural shape, cracked in protest. Without much thought to the sweatpants and t-shirt he was wearing, he hobbled out his front door and up the stairs as rapidly as his body allowed. It was quiet now but that hushed calm only spurred him on faster. As he rounded the last set of stairs, feeling the air tearing at his burning chest and pulling himself along with his hand on the banister, he could finally hear the sobbing and a part of him relaxed by just hearing the sound.

  Reaching her door he pounded with the side of his fist. “Sarah, are you ok?” His voice seemed to echo in the open hallway and it was a long moment before he heard her voice inside, small and childlike, “Yes, Mason, I am ok.” He then heard the latch being turned and she opened the door, clearly looking disheveled but unhurt. Her face was wet from the tears.

  “I guess I had a bad dream. Would you mind coming in? I am glad you are here, I’m still not feeling right.” She turned and went back to the couch and sat down in the near dark. There was only a little light coming from the partially closed bathroom door up the hall, but given his appearance and exposed arms, he preferred it that way. His protesting body was happy to sink into the chair he ate his dinner in a few hours earlier and he watched Sarah as she digested whatever it was that scared her.

  After several minutes, in a soft reassuring voice, Mason finally asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Sarah nodded her agreement, but still stayed silent. Mason waited; he had many years of experience waiting and could tell she still needed time.

  “I had a dream. At first it was beautiful. I was in a field . . . it was very green but with flowers everywhere mixed in the tall grasses. And the sky was so blue.” From what he could see of her face in the dimness, she seemed to be reflecting on the dream and smiling to herself.

  “That doesn’t sound so terrible,” Mason said.

  Sarah raised her gaze to meet his and he felt himself reflexively cringe, even though he knew she couldn’t really see him in the darkness. Once he confirmed everything was alright, he thought, he would excuse himself and leave.

  “This part wasn’t the bad part.” She said, shaking her head. “So, I’m in this field and I can feel wind in my hair and I suddenly realize I am riding a horse.”

  Mason had frozen in his chair, barely breathing but feeling the quickened tempo of his heartbeat pounding in his chest and in his ears. As her words came out about the horse and how lovely it was, and the deep brown color with red and gold highlights in its coat, he felt his innards turn cold. When she mentioned the white spot on the horses crown his hands began to tremble as they had from time to time in her presence.

  He watched how she spoke, the tilt of the head and the way she tugged at the lobe of her ear when she started to get agitated. He had noticed her tugging at her earlobe the day in the basement when the dryer wouldn’t work, but he had purposefully disregarded it. He knew, but then again, he had known all along hadn’t he?

  “And I was riding around in this meadow on the beautiful brown horse with flowers sprinkled in the tall grass and all of a sudden we were inside somewhere and it was so dark, so very, very dark. But the horse was still there. I more knew that than could see it.” He saw her involuntarily shudder at the thoughts that must be replaying in her head and he wanted to stop her. Stop her for herself and for him.

  “But there were screams.” Her eyes were closed and she pulled air in through her teeth, trying to control herself and not cry. “Screaming all around me. It was an ungodly sound yet there was another sound . . . but I am not sure what it is. I know I don’t like it.” Sarah’s eyes are staring off across the room, unseeing of her surroundings. “At first I thought the screams were the horses but I think it was really me. I woke myself up screaming. I don’t know what scared me or what that other sound was but I think there was something else in the dark. I’m just not sure. I can’t seem to remember.” She tilted her head and self-corrected herself. “My dream, that is. I can’t remember my dream.”

  Mason knew he had to say something but was at a loss of words. She turned slightly back towards him and looked pleadingly, for what he did not know, for he had become dumbstruck with her story.

  “I heard you screaming. It woke me.”

  “I was wondering how you knew to come. I am so terribly embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be.” He looked around the room nothing seemed out of place but he could tell the room had become just a little bit lighter as dawn was starting. It would be a gray day, however, as the snow had started back up already. He stood up, favoring his left side, and the pain shot through his body as a reaction to his hurrying up the stairs earlier.

  As he crossed the room to the windows, he asked if the cat had come back.

  “Not that I know of. After you left I did some needlepoint, and then went to sleep.”

  “Needlepoint?” Mason said it sharply, almost accusatory and was glad his back was towards her as a he felt his good eye tear up.

  Sarah sighed and then laughed a little, sounding like she was starting to shake off the scare from earlier. “Yes, I’ve always enjoyed needlepoint. Go ahead and laugh, I know it’s not something people really do much anymore, especially not my generation. My grandmother taught me when I was little and I had a knack for it.”

  Mason stared out into the dark morning, watching the tiny flakes fall in the illumination from the street light. “I would not laugh, Miss Carter, it’s a good, respectable hobby for any young lady.” As soon as the words came out he had a flash of a memory, as if it were yesterday. He felt nauseous with the sudden onslaught of memories and he felt beads of sweat break out on his brow.

  “I thought we went through this? It’s Sarah. No need to be so formal with me.”

  He couldn’t respond as he fought to steady himself and control his queasiness. He needed to confront his demons and tell her, but he could risk a lot in doing so and didn’t want to put her in danger. But wasn’t she already in danger? The cat was surely a sign last night yet they could not leave this fortress. The snow was holding them captive, with the rest of the building's occupants conveniently gone. She had to know, it might be her only chance to escape. But what if she didn’t believe him? How could she? The world was so different now; it was too difficult for someone like her to comprehend the true wickedness that lurked in the world. The evil that people now take as stories and legend, he knew of as real.
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br />   He removed his hand from the window sill where he had been holding on to steady himself and as he turned toward Sarah she instinctively pulled her body back at his sight. Sarah was about to yell out in surprise and his split second response was he thought she was reacting to him. Something in her look made him realize it was something else. Turning his head quickly, he followed her gaze just in time to see a huge black crow heading straight for him, thudding against the window and breaking its neck instantly. The carcass began its slow plummet against the updraft wind to the ground three stories below.

  “What is going on here?” her voice was shrill and he was afraid she would become hysterical. “First the cat slamming itself against the window last night, and now this crow? What’s going on, Mason?” From where he stood he saw her eyes were wide with fright and she had pulled the blanket up under her chin and was holding the material in tight fists. She was scared and wanted answers. He was not sure he had them all, but he had some.

  “Sarah, last night you said you trusted me.”

  Sarah was staring at where the bird had hit, leaving a blood smeared mark in the middle of the window right where Mason had been standing moments before.

  “Sarah?”

  Her head turned towards his voice but her eyes lingered on the window a moment longer. She cleared her throat and answered. “Yes, Mason, I trust you.”

  He looked into those gray blue eyes and felt himself melting away as he did the first day he ever laid eyes on her. For now, he had to keep control because their lives may depend on it.

  “How are you feeling? Are you up for traveling today? It's Christmas Eve and you need to get home.”

  “I know. I am feeling much better. The fever broke last night which might be the reason for such a strange dream. They say your fever sometimes spikes before it breaks.”

  “Hmmm. So will you be leaving soon?” If these creatures can’t enter, what will happen when she leaves? If she steps outside of the door, will she be safe? Is it her or me that is in danger?

  “I’m not sure. I want to get home, but we haven’t heard the news on the weather and if Amtrak service is back up. I still don’t want my dad to drive up here, but I don’t want to miss out on Christmas either. I just don’t know yet.”

  He looked at the cable box by the television and read the lit up blue time of 6:20am. The room was definitely getting lighter and he had been here for some time. He still needed time to think but he also needed to get dressed before she could see just how hideous he looked.

  “Sarah, I am going to leave you for a few minutes to get dressed. Put the television on and see if you can check the weather and transportation situations. When I get back, I have a story to tell you about my past. But I want you to keep an open mind. Will you do that for me?”

  “Is it about your, um . . . condition?”

  “Yes, the story I need to tell you directly impacted my . . . condition. There is more, too, and I think it’s important for you to know. Just sit tight and I will be right back. I will leave this door open so you can hear me and I can hear you. OK?”

  She looked like a little girl huddled under the blanket, with her wide eyes and long dirty blond hair spilling over her shoulders and the top of the blanket as she nodded back her consent. Her hand snuck out and grabbed the remote control from the table and she snapped the television on before he slowly made his way out of the apartment.

  Chapter 15

  Mason returned to his apartment as quickly as he could. On his way through the front lobby he had stopped to look out at the snow and could see that not only was the wind causing drifts but the new band of snow was starting to accumulate; it would be treacherous to try and get out in this weather. He also noticed on the top landing, right outside the door, what looked like cat shit that was quickly getting covered with the windblown snow. He swore under his breath and retreated across the front hall to his apartment to change clothes and collect a few items he might need later.

  He returned to Sarah’s apartment in under fifteen minutes which was a feat in itself given his physical limitations, and set his bag down by the door. Sarah was in the same spot, staring at the television with the remote pointed at the cable box. She had been channel surfing and quickly gave him an update.

  “They are expecting six to eight more inches in Boston before this storm tapers off. That’s well over two feet of heavy snow. There are power outages from New Jersey and New York across Connecticut and up into Massachusetts. Rhode Island seems to have been spared.”

  “Lucky them,” he interjected.

  “Yes, and lucky for us most of the outages are in the suburbs from downed tree limbs and the city is faring pretty well for the moment with no outages called in.”

  “What about train service?” He held his breath for her answer.

  “Well, no planes, trains and they have just added cars to the list.” Route 95 is down to two open, plowed lanes that they want to leave open for work crews and emergency vehicles. Too many cars stuck in the snow from people trying to get to where they were going yesterday. It sounds like a disaster out there. There are a lot of people who will be spending Christmas right where they are, including me.” Her eyes welled up and he watched as she fought for control in front of him. “I will be calling my parents later this morning and letting them know it’s not looking like I will make it there any time soon.”

  She cleared her throat, wiping away the tear that escaped from her eye and put on the best smile she could muster. “The good news is, Mason, you will not be alone this year for Christmas Eve. You’re stuck with me. I think we should plan to spend the day together. Make popcorn, watch old movies . . . what do you say?”

  Mason didn’t expect this friendly gesture and surprised himself by laughing for the first time in a very long time. So long that at first it came out as a bark, like he had forgotten how to laugh. He looked at her sweet face and hopeful smile realizing how hard she was trying to make the best of this horrible situation, and include him. Easily she could have sent him away and watch her old movies alone, wallowing in realization she was missing Christmas for the first time ever with her family and was stuck alone in this building with a deformed man that causes people to shudder when they see him. Instead she is welcoming him in to join her and making it sound like it would be a fun day.

  “Ok Sarah, but first I need to tell you that story. It’s very important.” And, old movies and popcorn are going to be the last things on your mind, unfortunately, after you hear this.

  “Sure, but I need coffee. Do you want some?” He nodded, averting his eyes, unsure of how to deliver so much information yet strangely eager to get started now that he’d decided to share it.

  “Yes please, just cream.”

  Sarah got up and went into the kitchen area, returning with steaming mugs of coffee. She carefully set the coffee down on the table, returning to her seat on the couch. Mason was in his now usual place in the chair facing the windows. He had thought about moving it to put his back to the light but had instead closed the sheers knowing full well they would only diffuse but not block the light. Sarah was watching him and turned the television off, smiling encouragement for him to begin.

  “Do you remember what I said?” He started, taking a sip of his coffee. “This is a long story, and a true story, but you need to keep an open mind. It’s going to cause you to want to ask questions, but it should all make sense as you listen.”

  “Ok, Mason, I’m ready.” Her brows furrowed and she had taken on a pensive look. “But I want you to know, no matter what caused this affliction; I know you are a good man.” She looked towards the windows and back at him. “I do not see anything but you, the inner you, when I look your way so please don’t try to hide away from me when this room gets lighter.”

  He took a deep breath, realizing it was the deepest breath he had been able to take in some time, and relaxed a little. “Agreed.”

  “So…tell me your story.”

  Mason sat forward in
his seat, elbows leaning on his knees and hands clasped. The purple blotches on the back of his hands seemed fainter in this dimly lit room. His eyes stared down at the marks and then moved to the rug and the intricate woven details and wondered about where or how to start. The tale wasn’t made to be told, he thought, just experienced. Plus, there are some things I will never know for sure. It had been several minutes of deep thought and she was patiently sipping her coffee and waiting for him to speak, so he must start somewhere.

  “I guess I will start off simply, at the very beginning.”

  “Mason, I told you. Whatever it is you can tell me.”

  “I’m Irish. I was born in Ireland.” He hadn’t thought of home in years and a feeling shrouded him of all he lost, all he would never see again, and the sadness was almost too much to bear. How was he going to get through this?

  The corner of her mouth twitched a little before she said, “I’m part Irish, too. I think that’s almost a given here in Boston. I thought I could hear a little accent in your voice.” Encouraging him with her tentative grin.

  “Yes, well, I am from Ireland and I came here when I was eleven. I was an only child and my parents had saved since before I was born to come to Boston and give me a life in America. They planned to emigrate to start a business in Boston. A hat business. My father was a hatter, or milliner. The winter I turned eleven we went to Dublin and they took all the money they had saved, and my father’s designs and hat tools, and bought tickets to come to the America by ship.”

  Sarah took another sip of her coffee, listening intently, but not yet understanding.

  “The year was 1872.”

  Sarah spit out a little of her coffee, coughing, and looking at him strangely. He felt like she was eyeing him warily, like he was deranged and she had previously missed some sort of sign. Thankfully she quickly recovered her composure.