Lonely Souls

by Karice Bolton

  “Veronica was an inspiration to us all. She always found time to help someone in need and lend a helping hand. With the success of her business ventures, she constantly gave back to the community, wanting to make the world a better place, and I think she accomplished that on many levels. We should all strive to continue that tradition, and I know her daughter Triss will carry on that torch,” the priestess said.

  Shoot! The priestess mentioned my name. My head was throbbing as all these thoughts kept running around inside of me. I knew everyone was watching for my reaction, and I was trying my best not to give them one. Many of the coven members already disagreed with some of my selections of wreaths and herbs for this ceremony because I was still working on the assumption of hope. Hope that she was still out there just waiting to be found. They mistook my hope for denial. I used many of the same herbs and wildflowers that we normally used in our upcoming solstice celebrations where positivity, goodness, and joy were commended. A little pride stirred inside of me. I was like my mother.

  Scanning the arrangements I had made, I saw the carefully chosen plants poking out here and there. The arrangements were wild and free, allowing me to stick all kinds of herbs and flowers that meant something to me. I had to get my control where I could. The garlic was peeking out with its beautifully narrow, deep green leaves that were shoved in between juniper cuttings from our own yard and lots of iris from our shop. The garlic was to provide courage and strength, and the juniper the protection that my mother needed. My mom had juniper planted on all four corners of our property for protection. I thought fondly back to when we started digging the holes to plant the juniper shrubs, and we realized that the holes needed to be much bigger than what we wanted to dig. We wore ourselves out before we even began, and somehow my mom had convinced the gardeners down the street to help us dig the holes, with only the promise of some herbal tea. At the time, it seemed odd, but in hindsight, I think my mom had quite the power over certain individuals.

  I must have been staring at the arrangements in a daze because my aunt leaned over and whispered to me.

  “Lovely choice on the iris, my dear. The hope is within us both.”

  I looked away from the arrangements and saw my aunt’s eyes filled with the tears I had been doing such a good job of holding in. I nodded and turned back to the front of the room. I needed to hold onto the hope that I had inside of me. I couldn’t afford to let even a smidgen of it escape.

  With Litha, our summer solstice celebration, fast approaching, I knew I had to work quickly to find the answers I was looking for. I needed my mother to be with me before I entered the Witch Avenue order, which occurred on the same day as the summer solstice.

  Realizing I had dreamed away the entire memorial service as the priestess thanked everyone for attending, I looked around at the coven members wondering why they all seemed like strangers. These were people I had grown up around and come to love, and yet, I felt like none of them truly knew my mother or I, because if they did know us, we wouldn’t all be standing here discussing a woman who might not be dead.

  Somehow I had been moved to the back of the room, accepting everyone’s condolences, but my emotions felt like there was a layer of cotton between them all. Everything was untouchable, hazy, and nowhere near my center of reality.

  I found myself staring at the table full of candles when my aunt attempted to snap me out of my fog.

  “Honey, I can’t believe she’s gone either.”

  Coming to rather quickly off that statement, I looked back at my aunt. I was filled with sympathy for her, pity even. I grabbed her hand, and I looked deeply into her grief-stricken hazel eyes for I really wanted her to understand what I was about to say.

  “The difference, Aunt Vieta, is that I don’t believe she’s gone. You can’t believe she’s gone. One view offers hope and the other offers finality.”

  Releasing the last of the silky rose petals from my fingers onto the ground, I could hear the whispers bouncing off the walls of the room. The smell of freesia was almost gagging me as I attempted to catch my breath. I didn’t know why people thought that whispering would make it so they were unheard, because I could still hear all of their comments, every single one of them.

  The Witch Avenue Coven, a place, a group, an idea that usually comforted me was doing nothing of the sort now, and I had to figure out why. A hand rested on my shoulder, and I spun around to see my aunt. She was one of the few who didn’t think I was completely crazy. Or at least if she did, she was more discreet about it.

  Looking up into her eyes, I was reminded of my mother instantly, and the tears began rushing down my face. Maybe I didn’t believe she was alive either.

  Chapter 3

  “Thank you for dropping me off at our florist shop,” I told my aunt. “I think it’s the only place I’ll be able to get some peace.”

  My aunt turned up the street, parking the car in front of the place my mom and I spent so many days together arranging flowers and planning events. The little red and white wooden closed sign made my grief begin all over again. The window displays were gorgeous, and I thought about my mom and I having so much fun putting those together.

  “Triss, promise me that you won’t be long.” Aunt Vieta’s concern couldn’t be missed. “That you’ll walk right to your house after you’re done. There’ll be a lot of people waiting.”

  This was like the memorial that would never end. I should be grateful that so much support existed, but it didn’t really seem like support and that’s the problem. To me, support would be continuing to spread out search groups in hopes that we could find my mom.

  “I know, and that’s precisely why I’d like to stay here,” I told her. “But I’ll get there. I promise. I want to grab my mom’s planner and just experience a few moments alone, quietly.”

  Shutting the car door, I walked to our floral shop hoping some answers would appear. I opened the front door and turned to wave at my aunt as she took off down the street. Quickly locking the door behind me, I stood in the store, breathing in as deep a breath as I could. All the freshness from the greenery and flowers came through me, centering me a bit, but not enough. I felt trapped in an endless haze.

  I remembered back to the first time my mom took me out to introduce me to our world. The images of following her through the woods, as she picked juniper branches and berries, placing them in her basket as she rattled off all the uses and why they were so important, brought warmth to my soul.

  My hand fell to the soaps that were on one of our displays. Bringing my fingers up to my face, I could smell the vanilla and rose that we had so purposefully mixed in our creation to bring about calmness to others. Little did I know when we made them that I would be the one craving such a state of mind. My hand graced another favorite that we had created, lemon verbena. My mom teased me about using that soap if I was planning on going out on a date. She always made me laugh.

  Knowing there was a house full of people waiting for me created a sense of dread I couldn’t shake. I wandered back to my mom’s desk to grab her planner, so I could get on my way and just get everything over with. Her desk was just as she left it piled high with ribbons, papers, and dried flowers. Opening up the middle drawer, I found her planner immediately and grabbed it. Taking in everything around the back room one last time before I began my walk to my home, a very uncomfortable feeling started to come over me. Everything seemed stuffy, like I was overheating. My head was spinning, and I thought I might pass out. Dropping my mom’s planner in my purse, I dashed in to our flower cooler. I needed to get control of myself.

  The crisp cold air hit me and immediately began cooling me down—nothing like a flower cooler to hide inside of. Boy, I’m getting stranger by the minute. Doing my best not to tip over any of the containers holding the roses, delphiniums, and baby’s breath, I found an empty container and flipped it over to sit on. The silence was a beautiful thing. There was only the slight hum from the cooler’s motor. This was exactly what I need
ed—silence and cold air to shock me back to my senses. The heat slowly began to trickle from my system. Feeling my forehead, the clamminess began to evaporate. With my eyes closed tightly, I let my mind wander to the possibility that my mom might have actually been taken from me. Maybe she wasn’t only missing; maybe she really did pass away.

  Not sure how many minutes I had been in the cooler, I realized I’d better get on my way to the distressing function waiting for me. I just needed to get through this last affair, and then, maybe things would settle down. Grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I let myself enjoy the last several seconds of quiet.

  I pushed on the cooler door and it wouldn’t open. These doors didn’t lock, so I didn’t understand what was going on. Leaning on it with all of my weight, I shoved on the metal door, and it still wouldn’t budge. I could crawl through the front, but do I want to? Worrying that someone locked me in here and might still be out there created panic. I looked out the glass front of the cooler. I’d have to move the shelving or try to squeeze myself in between the wire grates where the flower arrangements rested, but I could do it. I couldn’t let myself go crazy. There had to be a logical explanation for getting locked in here. I just needed to focus on one step at a time. I had no reason to worry, no reason to panic, but I was.

  Then I saw it. Something flitted across the room. The being was quick, too quick. I had to have imagined it. I locked the front door. I know I did. There’s nobody in here but me. I was sure of it. I was losing my mind. In addition to being in denial about my mom, I’m now seeing things. This wasn’t a good start into adulthood.

  Trying to steady my breaths, my eyes were darting around the room, hoping to catch the being once more. My line of sight was pretty limited from where I was located, but there didn’t appear to be anything in the room. Right when I started to feel like I had control of my imagination again, a muffled crashing sound made its way to the cooler turned sanctuary. Someone was out there. My heart began racing all over again. I almost felt lucky to be stuck in the cooler. I grabbed my phone and started texting to my aunt, while constantly trying to keep an eye out for whoever or whatever was in the shop.

  Please come get me. Stuck in cooler, I texted to her.

  Nothing. She wasn’t replying. She was probably busy greeting everyone.

  “Did you cast a spell on me?” I hollered. “Who are you?”

  Silence was returned.

  There it was again! The creature darted through the storefront, in between our displays, taunting me. There was nothing very distinguishing about the creature I was witnessing. Granted the store was dark but so was the being. I wanted to cry. I wanted to yell. I didn’t want to be stuck in the cooler.

  “I can see you! Now answer me! Did you curse me?” I screamed. “What is it you want?”

  The entity stopped and slowly turned toward me. I was looking directly into madness. Loneliness, despair, and sorrow swept into the energy surrounding me. The mourning process that I wouldn’t allow myself to go through was nothing compared to the feeling of isolation and dejection that this being was dumping on me all at once. Nausea began brewing in my abdomen, and the lightheadedness began again. It was from this creature that the feelings were coming from. This half-human, half-ghoul was tapping into my mind, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it, which meant that it had to be a conjured soul. Someone had commanded it to do something, and there was nothing I could do to stop it until it was finished with the task. I was teetering on hysteria as I tried to figure out what this beast wanted.

  The entity hovered momentarily before it began its hunt once more, stopping only long enough for me to see a cloak wrapped around its shell. I’d heard of this type of magic, but I didn’t believe it truly existed. Nevertheless, here it was, staring back at me, full of death and destruction, searching for what I didn’t know in a place I held dear.

  My fingers were shaking more than I realized as I attempted to text again. I wasn’t looking at the screen, only at the being’s movements. I had no idea what letters were making their way to my aunt’s phone, but I hoped something alerted her before it was too late. The being moved from one part of the store to the next, not disturbing much of anything. It zipped under the tables and over the tables, picking up many of the items my mother and I had crafted together, only to lay them right back down.

  It didn’t seem as if this creature was going to leave until it found what it wanted, and I couldn’t fathom what that would be. Trying my hardest to remember even one of the chants against black magic, I cursed myself for not paying attention better through the years. I had all of my incenses, oils, ointments, and bouquets memorized, and no way to produce a simple protection chant, but I had to try something.

  A holler echoed through the air, daring to wipe away my sanity. The creature turned toward the cooler and bolted to the glass leaving a streak behind its movement. The thin layer of glass that could be shattered in an instant was the only thing separating me from it.

  My body trembled as the being gazed at me, licking its lips as if I was prey. There was no physical presence that I could grasp onto. If I tried to touch this thing, I’d probably feel nothing but air. I could see through the being. It made no sense. I could see the image of a person, smiling at me with a gaping wide mouth, yet I could see behind it, behind where the mouth should be. Even the darkest of spells that I was aware of couldn’t educe a being or presence like this.

  The fear inside of me was growing by the second. The creature smiled its toothless grin at me, pointing at my bag with its wretchedly long index finger. Its eyes were tiny slits that held hatred deep within. Whatever it was that this beast was sent to get was nothing I was prepared to give.

  The creature’s mouth began moving into the shape of a circle. It was readying itself, wiggling its finger at me and then tapping on the glass like I was a caged animal.

  Grabbing the rose heads, I began pressing the petals as hard as I could all over my body, wiping them on every part of flesh that was exposed. Reaching for the rosemary, I did the same. Crushing the tiny green leaves into my skin, I created my own version of a protection ink. There were, at least, some protection attributes to the plants, I promised myself. Maybe not the most appropriate ones for the situation, but something had to be better than nothing. Not releasing my gaze from the creature, my fingers kept searching for more plants to smear on my skin. Finally, I felt the eucalyptus branches and crushed them all over my body and held onto the stem tightly, thinking I could use it as a whip, but then my hopes fell when I realized the stick would probably only go through the hovering being, leaving not a trace of harm.

  The creature’s mouth puckered, producing a shrill whistle that was bone shivering. It was shaking its head back and forth, running its finger along the glass, briefly pausing to tap on it, I’m sure only to unnerve me. All it had to do was either shatter the glass or open the glass door. Against my better judgment, I actually hoped that this thing was some form of black magic, because then it might not have thinking capabilities, only task abilities. An oily trail was left on the glass in the wake of the being’s finger.

  The whistling stopped and then the scratchy voice began.

  “You have what I was sent for,” the voice was grating and produced a sickening layer around me.

  The being’s hand stopped on the handle, and my stomach dropped. It began rattling the door back and forth, rather than sliding it open. Its facial expression grew uglier as each second passed that it couldn’t open the door. I slowly picked up my bag, not letting my gaze off the creature. The entity was getting very frustrated as the cooler began shaking with every tug on the door.

  The only thing I had in my bag was my wallet, house keys, and my mom’s planner. The fear was pumping through my system, making every movement I made seem like I was fighting gravity. I knew I only had seconds before this creature got me, but what did it want?

  A pounding began at the front door, making the creature turn away from me. It briefl
y turned back around to look at me once more and then vanished. It was gone, leaving nothing in its place, but taking my sanity. I had done nothing to provoke this attack and had only heard of things like this in folklore.

  My aunt was standing outside the door, banging louder and louder with each thud of her fist. My phone was buzzing text after text. It was as if time had stood still while I was in the cooler.

  “Be right there. Don’t have keys. Called Meredith to meet me.” My aunt had been texting from the moment I sent her the first text, and I was just now getting them.

  My heart was still pounding and I was exhausted, but I still had to get out of the cooler. I’d have to crawl through the racks. I leaned my bag against the cooler door before beginning the arduous task, and the door popped open. The very door that had locked me in, now just popped open! My head was spinning as I tried to calm myself down. Absolutely nothing could be said that would make any of this seem somewhat possible. Maybe I was losing my mind.

  I dragged my bag to the front door, completely defeated. It seemed sanity wasn’t on my side right now. I unlocked the front door, only to have my aunt cover her mouth in horror.

  “Oh, Triss! What happened to you?” she uttered. “You look like a wreck.”

  “I … there was … it …” I didn’t know where to begin and doubted I’d be believed anyway.

  She looked at me with too much sympathy. I was now placed in the ‘she feels sorry for me’ bucket.