“Pharaoh,” the boy corrected. “Ancient Egypt was run by a Pharaoh, back then. It’s Farley’s tree so he always gets to be the Pharaoh. So can I have the sheet or not? Pleeeease?”
“Farley the Pharaoh? What a fit.” She opened the hamper and pulled out the sheet he needed. “Since you said ‘Please’ I suppose I can humor you this once. Just remember: if you rip it, I’ll strangle you to death with your own guts. Slowly.”
“Awesome!” Chad gathered up the sheet and rushed out the door, shouting his thanks over his shoulder.
Christine finished her nails, studied the results (not enough Saint-Tropez Jet-Trash Blue, but she was all out) and reached for her phone. The boy needed help, and she had some time to kill.
- - -
Damon sneezed violently as Christine slapped powder onto his cheeks. He was seated on the edge of her bed, wearing white swim trunks, as she’d requested. Christine had already applied layers of clown-white to his face, neck and hands. “Lay off with that powder,” he said. “I’m breathing it in. It’s probably full of carcinogens.”
“No such luck.” She slapped another puff across his nose. “I want you to look all dried out. Now shut up, I’m almost done. Hand me that eyebrow pencil. I’m going to draw on some age-lines.”
“I still don’t get why you’re going to all this trouble for a bunch of eight-year-olds.”
“They’ve been playing their stupid Egypt game for three weeks now. At this rate my idiot brother is never going to be Pharaoh. So, I’m helping him along.”
Damon narrowed his eyes. “How much is he paying you?”
“Nothing!” She pinched his earlobe so hard that he yelped. “He’s my brother! Can’t I do something nice for the stupid little turd every now and then? Maybe I don’t want him to get a low self-esteem syndrome and turn into a stupid, lazy fat-ass bagboy, like you.”
He flashed a scowl her way. “I do not have a fat ass!”
After the make-up session was completed, Christine tore up an old white sheet and wrapped the long strips around Damon’s limbs and torso. When she was finished, she covered him with a raincoat and led him down the backstairs.
Before leaving the house, she peeked into the living room. Her mom was on her exercise bike and her dad was reading some stupid murder mystery.
“See ya later,” she shouted. “I’m going down to the mall for a while.”
“What for?” her mother yelled back.
“To get a boa constrictor tattooed across my tits!”
Dad smiled. “They grow up so fast.”
Mom wiped sweat out of her eyes. “Ha ha. Little Miss Comedy. Supper’s on in about an hour and a half, so hurry back.”
- - -
“Why did you say you were going to the mall?” Damon asked as they drove toward Pendleton Court in Christine’s red pickup. “Seemed pretty pointless.”
She shrugged. “The mall’s my all-purpose lie. I’m just in the habit of saying I’m going there.”
Damon started to remove the raincoat. “Not yet!” Christine yelled. “We still have to get to Farley’s house. We don’t want to attract attention. Scoot down in your seat so no one can see your makeup.”
“But this raincoat is so hot,” he said. “You don’t want me to sweat off all this goo.”
“Okay, so take it off already.” Christina sighed hugely. “Why do I stay with you? Why have I consigned myself to the living hell known as our relationship?”
“Because you love me.” He winked and smiled. “That’s why.”
“Too true…” Christine sighed again. Then she pointed to a small light-blue house almost hidden behind a weeping willow. “That’s the place. They pretend that big creepy tree’s a pyramid.”
“Cool clubhouse,” Damon said. “The leaves practically touch the ground. You can’t see a thing under there. Wait – I see some sneakers. Yep, that’s where they are.”
Turning into a side lane, Christine drove around the house and parked by the side of the garage. She and Damon then ran behind a row of bushes near the weeping willow.
“Let’s wait a bit,” she whispered. “I’ll pick a time for you to jump in there. Then you’ll say what I told you earlier. Got it?”
Damon nodded. Soon, a high-pitched chorus arose from within the leafy confines of the willow.
“Spirits of the Abyss! Heed the commands of Farley the Pharaoh!”
Christine listened closely. She figured there were probably about a half-dozen boys in there. She could barely make out Chad’s contribution to the chant. Some High Priest! Why wasn’t he leading the festivities?
The chants continued. “Farley the Pharaoh seeks an audience! Arise, oh spirits, from the sleep of countless centuries!” The chant then softened to a low hum.
Chad’s reedy voice rose above the hum. Christine concentrated to catch what he was saying. “Minions of the Crawling Chaos: heed Farley the Pharaoh! We command your presence now. Appear before Farley the Pharaoh! Appear! Appear!”
“Go for it!” Christine said as she pushed Damon out from behind the bushes. She watched him leap through the willow leaves. Then, following up to the hanging branches, she dropped to the lawn and looked in from ground level.
A group of boys in bathrobes and bedsheets huddled together as Damon waved his bandaged arms. “I am the Mummy of Unspeakable Horror!” the bagboy intoned. “I have been sent by the Ghost of Nefertiti to destroy the pretender, Farley the Pharaoh!”
Not bad for a minimum-wage pinhead, Christine thought. This was going even better than she had hoped.
“Death! Death!” Damon cried. “Grisly, incredibly painful death awaits the fool who dares to stand in my way!” Christine had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
At that moment, the group parted and one of the boys pushed forward. He was a skinny, pimply kid with the worst buckteeth that Christine had ever seen. From his enormous, papier-mache headdress, she guessed that h had to be Farley the Pharaoh. He was a little older than the other boys – perhaps twelve, thirteen tops.
“Some Mummy of Unspeakable Horror,” Farley said with imperious disdain. His voice was loud, shrill, and incredibly annoying. “Since when do mummies wear eyeshadow? Chad! Get over here, Chad! You’re the High Priest here. Send this piece of shit into the Dimension of the Outer Gods, right now!”
Once again, the group parted. This time, Chad came forward.
Christine gasped. Her brother’s eyes had turned into glowing white orbs.
“N’uyaa auh-ku!” Chad’s voice was a desert storm – a mindless roar of destruction. “Mighty Nyarlathotep, Master of the Star-Winds! Mu’uha taa! Open the Doorway of Nightmares for this interloper! Y’uta ai ni’ha!”
A circle of light appeared in the air above Damon. Down from the opening poured seven long, rubbery tentacles, covered with boils and ending in hook-taloned claws. The lawn under the willow tree transformed into an expanse of desert sand. Overhead, the branches of the tree became a cloudless pale-blue sky, alive with circling vultures.
“K’ha unha! Shred his flesh!” Chad cried. “Rip off his scalp! Pluck out his wicked eyes! Ai uhlor uu’ka!” The monstrous claws tore madly at Damon. He screamed again and again, until the talons sliced open his throat. The seven claws gripped the bloody carcass of the bagboy and hauled it up into the circle of light.
A moment later, the circle vanished. The glow slowly faded from the High Priest’s eyes. The sands turned back into lawn and the sky filled with willow branches.
Chad walked toward her. “Hi, Sis! Wasn’t that your boyfriend?”
Farley moved to Chad’s side. “This your sister? She sure is pretty! In fact, she’s beautiful!” The Pharaoh shot her a toothy horse-smile. “You can be my Queen! The Grand Queen of Egypt and All Its Gods of Death, forever and ever and ever!” He turned to his High Priest. “That okay with you?”
Christine looked to Chad … to Farley the Pharaoh … then back to Chad.
“Sure, Farley,” her brother said. “It’s your tree.”
The Final Door
by Mark McLaughlin & Michael Sheehan, Jr.
I haven’t always lived in this crummy nursing home, you know.
My wife Annabelle – everybody called her Annie, God bless her soul – Annie and me used to have a really nice place in New York City. How I miss that place. We lived there for ages. Raised five kids there. It was rent-controlled, which was great for a place that size – we wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise. This crummy place – look how small this room is. I could spit and hit the far wall.
Of course, living in such a big apartment did have one downside. After the kids moved out, Annie and me had all the room in the world. Way too much room for two people. It made us realize, we didn’t have all that much in common. She’d be in one of the kids’ rooms, reading a book or working on a jigsaw puzzle, and I’d be watching TV in the living room. Eventually she started having a glass of wine with her books and puzzles. A glass or two. Or three.
Sometimes I’d come home late from work and she’d already be passed out on the bed. I loved my Annie with all my heart – she was the mother of my children! – but the problem was, I just wasn’t smart enough for her. She’d become bored with me. Bored with her whole life! With all the children gone, she had all the time in the world. But, I didn’t know how to help fill that time. I had no idea what to talk about with her. I worked as the Head of Accounting at a department store – not much to talk about there! At least, nothing she’d care about. I suppose I could’ve read some of those books of hers, but I’ve never been much of a reader. I’d fall asleep by the end of the first chapter.
I must admit, I was bored, too. Life had settled into an uneventful rut. I should have appreciated the fact that I had security, comfort, companionship…. But, that’s how people are. We don’t count our blessings. We worry about all the things we think we don’t have.
I felt that my life was lacking excitement. But where was I going to find it? I spent all day in my office at the department store, and all night in the apartment with Annie. It’s not like I could zip out to a bar – I was too old for that sort of thing. Besides, there wouldn’t be enough time!
As time passed, I found my thoughts constantly drifting…. Drifting across the hall to apartment 7B.
That’s where our neighbor, that dark-eyed lady lived. She’d been there forever – or at least, since Annie and me had moved into the building.
Back when we’d first moved in, I hadn’t given that dark-eyed lady much thought. She was slender but not too skinny, with loads of shiny black hair, and she never said a word. Not a single word! If she passed you in the hall, she wouldn’t say, “Hello.” She’d just nod and smile. It was a tight-lipped smile, too. I figured she had to be very shy. Or, perhaps she couldn’t speak English.
Sometimes, I’d see that dark-eyed lady in the laundry room. Annie usually did the laundry, but sometimes I’d do it when she was sick or busy with something else. If the lady was in there, she’d look at you out of the corner of her eye, nod, smile, and then turn back to her washing machine.
I kept thinking and thinking about that dark-eyed lady. Probably because she was right across the hall. She didn’t seem to have a man in her life. And, she was what you’d call a handsome woman, with an exotic quality, too. For a while, I thought she was Native American, or maybe from India. Eventually I decided, I had to talk to her.
One night, when Annie was passed out on the couch, I heard the door of 7B open and close. I looked out in the hall and saw that dark-eyed lady heading toward the laundry room with a basket. I gathered all the dirty clothes I could find and headed to the laundry room myself.
I put my clothes in the machine next to the one that dark-eyed lady was using. She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, gave me a little tight-lipped smile, and turned back to her machine.
“You know,” I said, “we’ve been neighbors for all these years and I don’t even know your name.”
She turned toward me and said, “I am Selket.” For the first time, she gave me a real smile, warm and friendly.
We talked while our clothes were washing and drying, and while we were folding, too. That dark-eyed lady had the most fascinating life of anyone I’d ever met … if everything she said was to be believed. At one point, she told me she used to know Houdini. The escape artist Houdini. I once read a book about him and I was pretty sure he was born in the eighteen-seventies. I didn’t know how old she was, but it didn’t seem possible that she could even have met him.
After that, we always did our laundry together. Annie never questioned why I was suddenly doing the laundry myself all the time. I don’t think she even cared.
She told me more about Houdini. It seems he’d once visited Egypt – that’s where she was from – and they spent a lot of time together. He was married at the time, but that didn’t seem to bother Selket.
At one point during his trip, Houdini had been kidnapped by a tour guide and tossed down a hole near the Great Sphinx of Giza. He told Selket about the whole thing. He wandered through underground hallways and witnessed terrible things no human being was ever meant to see. He saw mummies and other ghastly monstrosities shambling through the stone passages, gathering scraps to offer as sacrifices to their five-headed devil-god. I asked Selket to tell me more about this god of theirs, but she said that was a topic for another day.
She also had tales to tell of her extensive travels. Over the years, she had visited temples and ruins across the world, from Peru to Easter Island to Innsmouth, Massachusetts. Such a brilliant woman! She thought for herself: she didn’t accept supposed facts at face value. She once said to me, “The ancients had a science all their own, learned from the great teacher, Nyarlathotep. Their science was so advanced, people today would consider it to be magic.”
Nyarlathotep, she told me, was a scientist whose powers were not bound by the laws of time and space. He had even created a whole world for those who followed his ways. If anyone else but Selket had told me this, I would have thought they were insane. But then, before I’d started talking to her, I’d thought that the world was a simple place. People lived and died. The past stayed buried. Monsters only existed in storybooks and movies. But after plenty of conversations with that dark-eyed lady, I realized that life was different in ancient days, and maybe some of the old nightmares never died.
In time, it didn’t seem so strange to think that Selket might have known Houdini. For all I knew, maybe she’d known the pharaohs. Maybe she’d figured out how to stay alive forever. People back then knew how to do the impossible. Those were the people who’d built massive pyramids and carved the Sphinx from solid rock. There was nothing they couldn’t do.
It was around that time that I retired. I didn’t have to go to my job anymore, but Annie and me didn’t grow any closer as a couple. Probably because my mind was always on Selket.
Before long, Selket and me started continuing our conversations in her apartment – always when Annie was asleep, of course. I always made sure there were plenty of bottles of wine in our kitchen. Looking back, I’m not proud of that. I helped my wife, my companion for life, descend into alcoholism. Just because I was captivated by that dark-eyed woman from across the hall.
There were a few times when Annie would wake up while I was across the hall. She’d ask me later, “Where were you?” I’d tell her, “Just talking to one of the neighbors,” and that was good enough for her. She wouldn’t bother to ask which one. Because she trusted me. Yeah, I was a real bastard back then. I’m probably a bastard now, too. Once bastard, always a bastard.
Selket’s apartment was fascinating. The whole place was packed with exotic curios from her world travels. The walls were lined with shelves filled with hundreds of old leatherbound books. Her apartment seemed to go on forever – it held way too many rooms. Dozens! It was her Egyptian magic. She wasn’t limited, the way regular folks are. She could make the world – even time itself – bend to her will.
That’s why
my poor Annie suddenly seemed to age another fifteen years in less than a few days. Selket wanted Annie out of the way, so she could have me all to herself. The doctors couldn’t explain her strange rapid aging. Then one day, Annie broke her hip when she fell down on her way to the kitchen, so I had to put her in a hospice. One of those homes for folks who don’t have much time left. And the saddest part: At the time, I didn’t really care….
Ah, who am I kidding? I was delighted. Delighted that I didn’t have to sneak around anymore. Delighted that I could spend every day, every minute with Selket.
I’m ashamed to say, I didn’t visit Annie once in the hospice. She died a week later and I didn’t even go to the funeral. A friend of mine, an old business associate, called because he was concerned. He asked, “Is everything okay? I went to Annie’s funeral and you weren’t there.” I didn’t know what to say, so I hung up on him. I hung up on a friend of thirty years. A friend who only wanted to know how I was doing.
At that point, I only cared about Selket. I felt younger and more alive when I was with her. That was her doing, of course. My hair gradually darkened and the wrinkles on my face smoothed over. My muscle tone returned. I spent more and more time in 7B. At no point did I ever step outside of the building’s front door with Selket. But we did leave the building … in a way I once would never have thought possible.
Selket had control over space as well as time, and the doors in 7B led to some of the most incredible places imaginable. I went with her to many of those places – I loved her so much, I would have followed her straight to Hell.
One door led to a temple in ancient Peru in which cult members worshipped a horrible thing – a creature with a human face, a mane of jellyfish tendrils, and claws like a lobster’s. But that face of the beast … the most beautiful face you can imagine.
Another door led to a jungle filled with flailing vines, with gigantic pyramids floating up among the clouds. Selket told me that it was the land of Egyptica, a world that Nyarlathotep had created for his descendents. In today’s world, we think we know everything because we have computers and fancy technology. Toys, that’s all they are. Useless toys. We think the only life in the universe is here on Earth, and every place else is dead rock. Nothing could be further from the truth. Selket opened enough doors for me to know that the universe is filled with life … strange, wonderful life!
The Blasphemy In The Canopic Jar & More Tales Of The Cthulhu Mythos Page 4
