Mary, Will I Die?

by Shawn Sarles

  Elena leapt to her feet, her anger pushing her out of her catatonic state. She rushed across the room and lifted Calvin’s notebook high in one hand, ready to smack him with it. But then Grace jumped in the way, her hands held up to block the blow.

  “He drew that before it happened.”

  Her words froze the blood in Elena’s veins. She lowered the notebook slowly and took another look at the picture.

  “W-what?” she stammered. “How?”

  Everyone’s eyes darted to Calvin, but his chin was buried in his chest, his glasses catching the light and reflecting it back in two impenetrable white discs.

  “I don’t know,” Calvin finally muttered. “It’s these visions—they pop into my head and take over. I have no idea where they come from. I just know that I have to draw them.”

  A minute stretched out and no one spoke.

  “How long have you been able to do this?” Steph finally asked.

  Calvin’s eyes swiveled around the room, looking everywhere except at the three girls standing over him.

  “This is useless,” Elena sighed, rolling her eyes.

  “I guess,” Calvin squeaked, finally finding his voice. “I guess it all started about five years ago.”

  “And did you fall in a toxic vat of paint to get these powers?” Elena scoffed. “Or I bet a group of monks injected you with a mystical vial of ink.”

  “It’s not a joke,” Grace said, coming to Calvin’s defense. “I saw him drawing it. And I saw him try to warn you.”

  Elena pursed her lips, ready to tear this story apart.

  “And this isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?” Grace asked, turning to Calvin. “That day in the bleachers. You saw the volleyball hitting me in the face. You drew it and were able to push me out of the way in time. You were able to stop it.”

  Elena vaguely remembered that day, but she didn’t share Grace’s awe as Calvin nodded.

  “The visions have always been terrible,” Calvin croaked. “But that was the first time they’d ever come true.”

  “But why now?” Elena asked, not believing him for one second. She needed answers. Real ones. Not some made-up story about premonitions and magical mumbo-jumbo. “And how?”

  This seemed to be the question on everyone’s mind as they all turned apprehensively to Calvin.

  “I—” Calvin paused and licked his lips. A bead of sweat slipped down his forehead before he could wipe it away. “I don’t know. But the visions started after we played that game at your house, Elena.”

  Again, Elena had no clue what he was talking about.

  “Bloody Mary,” he replied in a reverent tone, his voice low as if he were afraid of invoking the name even now.

  “You thought that was real?” Elena laughed. “We were nine. I was bored and trying to scare you. I made that whole thing up.”

  A tension fell over the room, uncomfortable and prickly as Calvin shook his head, unwilling to hear what Elena was saying, unwilling to accept it.

  “What if you didn’t?” Calvin frantically flipped through his notebook and held out another drawing, this one of a dreadfully beautiful woman. “Have you seen it?”

  “No,” Elena replied coolly.

  But as she stared harder at the drawing, she couldn’t help but feel something tapping at the back of her mind, lurking in her memory, at the edges of her dreams. A familiar voice, low and insistent, pulling her under. The ghastly face that she saw in her locker mirror.

  The door swung open then and they all jumped. Calvin quickly slammed his notebook shut as they all turned to look up at their vice principal.

  “Elena, we’re ready for you.”

  Vice Principal Matthis’s voice was stern and serious and didn’t quite match his rumpled exterior. But she knew he meant business. One of his students was in the hospital.

  “Whenever you’re ready.” And he turned and moved back into his office.

  As Elena went to follow him, she cut a look at the other three.

  “Fine,” she murmured. “Meet me at my house after school and we can figure this out.”

  The kitchen was silent. No one knew what to say. They could only stare at one another from across the table, their notebooks and textbooks piled in front of them as if they were actually there for a study session.

  In a way, though, it was a group project. They had research to do. Theories to postulate. A hypothesis to test. But how did they even start? How did they go about proving the existence of something impossible? Something supernatural? Something that frightened them all?

  “What do you guys want on your pizza?” Elena’s mom asked as she bustled into the room, her cell phone already out to make the call. “Pepperoni? Sausage? Vegetarian?”

  “Whatever,” Elena snapped.

  “It’s so good to see you four hanging out again,” Elena’s mom replied, ignoring her daughter.

  “Mom,” Elena said, bristling. “Just order the pizza and get out of here.”

  “All right. Well, I’ll just get a margherita and a pepperoni. You all can fight over who gets what.”

  “Thanks,” Steph said, feeling her stomach grumble even though Coach Lee had canceled practice that afternoon.

  “It’s not a problem.” Elena’s mom waved them off with a smile. “It should be here in thirty. I’ll leave you all to it until then.”

  And Elena’s mom made her way out of the kitchen, her phone dialing as she went.

  “It was nice of your mom to drive us,” Grace said, breaking her silence.

  Elena’s mom had picked them up after school. It had felt like they were nine years old all over again, getting shuttled around in their carpool. Steph’s mom had been delighted to hear that she was going to a friend’s house. And hearing her mom light up like that, Steph hadn’t had the heart to correct her.

  Elena was her teammate. Her co-captain. But definitely not her friend. And Steph was only here out of curiosity. She needed to get to the bottom of the vision that had clung to her for so many years. To understand why, now, this mirror girl had finally appeared in the flesh. As much as she wanted to deny it, there was a kind of magic there. Or maybe a curse.

  “Let’s see the drawing,” Elena ordered, taking the lead as usual. Calvin’s hands shook as he thumbed through his notebook and left the spread out in the middle of the table for all of them to see.

  It was amazing how unfazed Elena seemed now as she scanned Calvin’s picture. But then, the news had come back from the hospital during sixth period, phones vibrating in purses and pockets, students pulling them out without a care in the world. And for once, the teachers had looked the other way. Even they understood that this kind of news needed to be shared.

  Henry was okay. He’d broken his arm and gotten ten stitches in his forehead, but he’d live. The doctors were holding him overnight, and he’d most likely be released in the morning. He was lucky.

  “But what’s this all supposed to mean?”

  Elena already sounded frustrated and ready to give up. The drawing didn’t shed any new light on what had happened that afternoon. It only showed an illustrated Elena yelling at Henry, her arms thrown up, his body tilting backward ever so slightly as a car came roaring into view at the edge of the paper.

  “I don’t know,” Calvin replied weakly. “I draw what I see. What it shows me.”

  “It?”

  Calvin flipped in his notebook to reveal a picture of a frightening thing with long, tangled hair. A demon.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Elena scoffed. “You think this—this thing pushed Henry into the street? Or was it driving the car?”

  No one spoke. Not at first. But then—

  “I believe him.”

  Steph grew suddenly shy, her voice shaky as everyone turned to look at her. She had even surprised herself when the words had come out of her mouth. But it was the truth, she realized. She had seen that awful face before, if even for just a split second. And now she knew she hadn’t imagined it.
r />   “I’ve seen it, too.”

  And as she admitted it, Steph felt a presence sweep into the room. Something dark and heavy, creeping along the walls. Something evil. A shiver ran up her spine, and she thought she smelled something like flowers. Only they were too sweet. Sickly, like they’d been left out a day or two past their prime.

  “You all are crazy.”

  Elena’s snarky retort snapped Steph out of her thoughts.

  “You think that some invisible thing is haunting us?”

  “It’s a demon,” Grace muttered. And even though it sounded crazy, the words hit home. Steph knew them to be true. Nothing about this really made sense.

  “Well, this demon—or whatever you want to call it—it isn’t in Calvin’s drawing.” Elena smirked, satisfied with her defense. “Unless I missed something.”

  At this, Calvin reached across the table and flipped back in his notebook. Steph pulled it close and studied it again.

  Elena was right. It wasn’t there. But something looked off. Steph squinted and brought the notebook within an inch of her nose.

  “Calvin, did you finish this drawing?” Steph asked, hoping it didn’t sound like a dumb question.

  “I—” And Calvin froze as he thought. “I’m not sure.”

  “It’s just—there are some faint lines here.” Steph stretched across the table and pointed it out to Calvin. “Do you think you could complete it?”

  Calvin stared at the page, his eyes wide.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you try?”

  Steph held her breath, noticing the way Calvin’s fingers trembled. She hoped she hadn’t asked too much.

  “I guess.”

  And he took the notebook from her. He studied the page, tapping it with the cap of the pen he’d pulled out of his pocket. He sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and went still. His hand hovered in the air for a moment, and then, like the planchette on a Ouija board, it darted across the notebook, scratching new lines and details into the drawing. Elena’s shirt gained its striped pattern. The expression of fear sharpened on Henry’s face. The car’s windshield blinked into focus, revealing the shadow of a driver. And then, right before their eyes, a figure emerged.

  Its torn dress was unmistakable, its hair frightening in its Medusa-like coils. Blood dripped from its lips as if it were preparing for a feast. It floated at Elena’s back, a satisfied gleam in its eyes, a wicked smile contorting its mouth, its arms lifted high to mimic Elena’s—or maybe to control them.

  The room went quiet as Calvin’s hand stilled. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper echoed in Steph’s ears, the demon more terrifying than it’d looked in Calvin’s other drawing. An uneasiness bubbled in her stomach and she felt that evil presence filling the room.

  “Looks like you guys are working hard in here.”

  They all jumped as Elena’s mom walked back into the kitchen, her eyes finding Calvin’s notebook.

  “Mom,” Elena complained, her cheeks turning red.

  “I was thirsty. Is it all right if I get something to drink?” She didn’t wait for permission as she walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a cup. “Anyone else want something?”

  They all shook their heads, watching as Elena’s mom opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of iced tea.

  “So what are you all working on?” she asked as she took a swig. “Got a big project on fairy tales or something?”

  “Fairy tales?” Elena huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re in high school, Mom.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with fairy tales.” Elena’s mom clearly knew how to roll with the punches. She probably had lots of practice with Elena as her daughter. “That looks just like the ghost from one of your grandmother’s old stories.”

  Elena’s mom had come over to the table and was motioning down at Calvin’s notebook.

  “Don’t you remember? It was your favorite one when you were little.”

  Steph’s heart jumped as Elena’s mom pointed right at the demon on the page.

  “She was a fairy godmother.” Then the woman’s lips puckered and she put her finger to them. “Or maybe she was a witch? I can’t remember the exact details. But it had something to do with finding your soulmate and being careful what you wished for. The price of true love and all that. You know, your typical cautionary tale.”

  Elena slow-blinked as Steph’s heart skipped a beat.

  “I’m surprised you don’t remember. You made your grandma read it to you every time she visited.”

  “Mom,” Elena seethed.

  “I’m going, I’m going,” Elena’s mom promised as she choked on her tea and made her way out of the kitchen.

  Then she was gone, which left the four of them exchanging inquisitive glances. First at the notebook, then at one another.

  “We need to find that storybook,” Steph said, looking directly at Elena.

  They stood in a cluster outside the bedroom door, Grace tucked in tight next to Calvin, their arms brushing. She’d chosen the right day for her Velma getup. The four of them were in the middle of a real mystery. Only, Grace didn’t think they’d find a man in a mask when they got to the bottom of it.

  “What are we waiting for?” Elena huffed.

  “I thought you were leading the way,” Steph shot back.

  A silent battle brewed between the two girls, their eyebrows furrowed in stubbornness.

  “I’ll do it.”

  And Grace surprised even herself as she pushed ahead of them all and grabbed the knob, the door hinges groaning in an eerie, cartoonish way. As a self-proclaimed queen of the night, this was kind of her element. She knew all the horror references, from camp to creature. She’d studied the classics like Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Mummy, but had also binged all of Buffy and the Winchester brothers. If there were a demon or monster out there, she knew about it. She was prepared.

  However, when the door swung open, Grace wasn’t met by cobwebs in the corners or fog creeping along the floor hiding rats and snakes. There weren’t any ghosts or bats or skeletons waiting for a jump scare. It was actually quite lovely. Cozy, even. The sun streamed in through the window and bathed the room in a warm, golden glow. And with the quilted blanket spread over the foot of the bed and a decorative arrangement of dried corn husks sitting in one corner, they could have walked into a bed-and-breakfast for how put together it all looked.

  “My mom goes a little overboard,” Elena said, wrinkling her nose as she picked a stuffed scarecrow doll off the bed and dropped it on the floor, flopping down to take its place on the mattress. “You should see it at Christmas—Santas and snowmen everywhere.”

  “Where’s the storybook?” Grace got right to business. She glanced around the room but didn’t see a bookcase. “Come on, I thought you wanted to figure this out.”

  Grace broke from her searching to shoot Elena a look, to which the girl harrumphed and then finally rolled off the bed. She got down on her knees and rummaged under the mattress for a few seconds before popping back up with a small wooden chest.

  “My mom’s been rearranging all week, getting her fall decorations out,” Elena said, opening the lid and pulling out a thick old tome. She handed it to Grace like it was no big deal and sat back down.

  But to Grace, this book was everything. It was like discovering that million-dollar treasure at the flea market. The book was that good kind of heavy. With a leather-bound cover that looked expensive. When Grace opened it, the stiff pages crackled. But there wasn’t a title or even a table of contents. As Grace flipped through it, though, she realized exactly what it was.

  A story collection. A treasury of fairy tales, to be more specific, all of them accompanied by hand-painted illustrations. The pages were filled with princesses and witches and dragons and wolves. Bakers and spinning wheels and children who had lost their way.

  “There,” Steph spoke, her finger darting forward to pin the page. She and Calvin had come in close to peek
over Grace’s shoulder.

  “That’s her,” Grace murmured, mesmerized by the picture, by the uncanny similarities it had to Calvin’s. But it must have been a hundred years old. It didn’t make sense.

  “What story is this?” Grace wondered aloud as she flipped back in the book. “ ‘Die Verflucht Frau’?”

  She knew she’d butchered the pronunciation, and she suddenly realized that none of the stories were in English. The words had all the familiar letters, but they were arranged in new orders, with dots and dashes thrown in over some of them. She tried sounding out the title again and failed just as miserably as the first time.

  “It’s German,” Elena explained like it should have been obvious. And Grace could have kicked herself. Of course. The Germans basically invented the fairy tale. They knew how to do dark and creepy.

  “Can you read it for us?” Steph asked.

  “Does it look like I speak German?” Elena rolled to a sitting position but didn’t get up.

  “Do you at least remember what this story was about?”

  Grace turned the book around to show her, but Elena didn’t seem very interested. So she pulled it back and started flipping through the pages, searching the illustrations for some context.

  In the first, a maiden stood in front of a mirror, her reflection glowing with youth and beauty. Her long hair cascaded over her back in golden waves and her skin gave off a pearly aura. She could have been a princess or an evil stepsister—anything, really.

  In the next, a serving girl was bent at the woman’s feet. The woman looked just as radiant, but this time there was something else lurking in the mirror, a shadow that the woman didn’t seem to be aware of as she gazed at her own reflection. But the maid had noticed, her eyes fixed on the mirror even as she straightened the maiden’s dress.

  And then in the third picture, the shadow in the mirror came into focus. The demon from Calvin’s drawing filled the whole page, every gruesome detail rendered in startling clarity. Grace could see the desire in its eyes, the blood staining its canine teeth. It was ghastly and hungry and evil.