Jason lifted the rock above his head trying to locate where the batteries went but found no access plate. He brought it closer to his face and peered through the clearer parts to see the wiring but found none. The light was turquoise now as he pondered its origin point.
Was it a part of the rock? Was it something separate? How cool was that?!
He heard the back door slam and clanging pans colliding in the kitchen.
“Jason!!”
Terror seized him at the sound of his father's voice. The colors made an immediate shift to a dark purple. He didn't want his father to know he had this gift. It wasn't much. Just a glowing rock with some colors in it. But it was his rock. It was his gift.
Reaching down, he slid it underneath the bed looking at the clock. He wasn't expecting him home that early. His father never came home that early. Jason was usually in bed by the time he stumbled in from the bar.
“Jason!”
His heart crashed against his chest. He didn't want to answer because he didn't want him to know where he was. But he knew if he didn't answer, he would get what he got earlier. Or worse.
“I… I'm in my… in my room,” he replied.
He heard his father's heavy footsteps ascending the stairs. Unsteady.
“Why is the front door unlocked?”
The undertone of his voice growled. He clambered up the stairs, stumbling through Jason's bedroom door, slamming it against the wall. His stare locked Jason's body into rigidness. Did he forget to lock the front door when he went downstairs? Stupid!
“I asked you a question.” It sounded like his father reached into the deepest depths of his diaphragm to impose the lowest voice he could muster, slurred as it was. The smell of alcohol was heavy, besieging Jason's nostrils.
“I...someone came to the door.”
His father stole a sideways glance at him as he steadied himself in the doorway. There was something about that glance. Something in it. Menace. Malice. Evil.
“I… am… sick of you,” he said as he unbuckled his belt. “You’ve got an excuse for everything. I'm sick of your excuses. Sick of your whining. Sick of your lying. I'm sick of you!”
His pleas in the past for his father not to beat him never failed to fall on deaf ears. He abandoned that course of action long ago. What worked was finding something to protect himself. But this was different. He could feel it. Something was wrong, more wrong than normal.
“You will die boy!”
The voice that emanated from his father was not his father. It was deeper, guttural, reverberating like multiple voices in a wide chamber. There was a madness in his eyes.
The black leather belt slithered out from around his father's waist, a snake ready to attack with its painful bite. It coiled in its master's hand waiting for his command.
Bap!
It struck with fierceness, leaving its mark as it had done so many times before. He screamed, scrambling to the other side of the bed as the pain coursed through his leg. It was familiar scream in the neighborhood but one they trained themselves to ignore.
“I don't even know why I put up with you as long as I did,” his father yelled, stumbling to the other side of the bed. “I should have sent you away somewhere.”
The snake struck again, pain rocketing through his thigh. Tears welled up in his eyes and within moments a steady stream flowed down Jason's cheeks. Fear strangled him. The voice coming from his father was almost unrecognizable. He was commanding the snake with more force than he had in the past. On a normal day, he could take what his father was dishing out but tonight was different. Tonight, something told him to not stay in that house. He had to get out. If he didn't, he would be absent from school tomorrow. And the next day. Ad infinitum.
Run! Run!
His mind became overwhelmed by the command, fight-or-flight redlining. He had to make it to the door, preferably without getting hit. To his chagrin, he zigged when he should have zagged, the back of his father's hand crashing into his face. The force knocked him back onto the floor. Black splotches cavorted in front of his eyes and a burning sensation throbbed in his nose which ran with blood.
“Where do you think you're going, huh?!!”
Reacting on instinct, he scurried underneath the bed. There it was. His gift, swirling with brilliant luminescence. For a few moments, it hypnotized him, causing him to pause and inspect it. Reality gripped him by the legs in the firm hands of his father who pulled Jason from under the bed. Reaching out, he grabbed the crystal rock causing an instantaneous transformation, its color dark purple and black again.
Jason flipped over onto his back and stared up at his father. There was no protection. The snake lay on the ground, cast aside. Finality invaded his father. He was finishing this with his fists, balled up so tight, the whites of his knuckles shone. Jason wouldn't survive the first hit. Even drunk, he was just too big and strong. The only thing he could think to do was to hold the rock in front of him. He didn't know why. It didn't even make any sense. But he did it.
Dark purple light billowed inside the rock. Jason squeezed it with every once of strength he had until it hurt. The rock's jagged edges bore into the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow.
His bowels and bladder gave way.
The rock perplexed his father who stopped his assault for a moment.
“What the...? No!”
In that moment, the rock let loose a lavender beam, slicing through the air, colliding with his father's chest. His father convulsed, eyes rolling back into his head. It appeared as if he was trying to say something but his screams choked inside his throat. All he could manage were fits of coughing and spittle. The beam impact became a burgeoning splotch on his chest, murky violet tendrils flowing and infecting his skin, using veins and capillaries for avenues. They climbed up to his face in black filaments, turning his body the same color. It filled every crevice, every opening. His fists curled into arthritic claws, every muscle following suit, seizing, freezing him in place like a granite statue.
Silence.
His body teetered from side to side before gravity had its way, toppling him to the floor. Jason heard the loud thump of his father hitting the ground and jumped with a start. Opening his eyes, he saw the black figure of his father. Motionless, soulless, vacant eyes stared at him, his mouth petrified open. Though horrified, Jason couldn’t move. He sat paralyzed for eternal minutes before getting to his feet.
The rock was shifting between purple, turquoise, and a hint of yellow. Something had transpired. Whatever happened had ended it. The yelling stopped. The beating stopped. The pain he thought he would be in the throes of by that time never came. It was strangely quiet in the house. Not just quiet. Peaceful. Jason didn't know what had happened, he was just glad it did.
He had to change his underwear.
Part V - You've Got Company
Jason admired the ROCK in his hand as he sat at the foot of his bed. His father was still in the same position he was twenty minutes ago. He couldn’t believe it. In one moment, the rock had saved and changed his life forever.
Was he going to get in trouble for what happened? Should he tell someone about the rock? Would they take it from him if he did? In his relief new fears threatened his mind. He didn't know what to do.
A soft tapping came from his bedroom door.
“Jason?” a voice said. This voice was nicer. Softer. A girl.
Jason spun towards the door.
“Who's there?”
The rock filled once again with a dark purple.
“My name is Amanda,” the voice said. “Can I come in?”
Jason's heart thumped in his chest. What would happen when she saw his father?
“No!”
Amanda glimpsed the body on the floor. The head looked encased in gangrene.
“I know you're scared and confused. I can help you. I want to help you. Will you let me?”
Jason looked down at his father’s body. In that moment, there was a
wave a sadness that overtook him, the stone in his hand turning a deep blue.
“Are you going to take me to jail?”
“No honey. I'm not going to take you to jail.”
Jason turned towards the door. A young dark-haired lady stood there. She had big, round, mysterious eyes and a smile that comforted him. Reassured him. The rock's colors intermingled with pink though the dark purple was still there but only faint. Behind her were two men.
“Don't come in!”
He held the rock out in front of him as the purple threatened to devour all the pink.
“It's O.K. Jason. They're my family. This is Sebastian, and this is Tyler. We're here to help. We want to get you out of here so you don’t get in trouble. Can we do that?”
Jason looked at his father’s body again. He wasn’t sure of anything. The lady seemed nice and if she would make sure he would not get in trouble, then that’s where he wanted to be.
He put on his shoes and grabbed his backpack, depositing A Paladin’s Burden inside. Walking to the door, he stopped in front of Amanda.
“Thank you.”
Throwing his arms around her waist, he embraced her and cried. Amanda looked down, wrapping her arms around him, kissing the top of his head.
“It’ll be okay.”
Moments passed. Jason took his sleeve and wiped the tears from his eyes as Amanda assisted.
“Can we… can we stop somewhere?”
“Where do you want to go honey? Is there someone in your family you want to go to?”
Jason looked down at the rock, admiring the colors, then back at Amanda, shaking his head.
“No. Can we stop by Frankie’s?”
Part I - Moving In
He should go to jail. It had to be illegal, but it felt fantastic.
Brian stood admiring the front of his new home. This was wrong. It was so wrong it was almost a sin. Almost. There was no way he should have gotten that house for the price he paid. He’d done his due diligence and knew it should have gone for much more. Almost forty thousand dollars more. This led him to believe something major was wrong but the appraiser, home inspector, and a few friends in construction had put that apprehension to rest. Then he researched the previous owners and the land around the house. He didn’t want to end up like the family in the movie Poltergeist and discover the place was on top of some ancient burial ground. To his surprise, the history was clean. Squeaky clean. Constructed in the late 1800s, a family of wealthy Quakers used it as a haven for traveling strangers and those in the city who didn’t have a home. The further he read about them, the more he expected to go back to the house and see a halo hovering over it.
He wasn’t sure how but it was right in his price range and lower than other houses in the neighborhood that were much smaller. The seller was desperate to get rid of it, slashing it at an insane price. Brian had asked about the seller who he didn't get a chance to meet. Everything went through his real estate agent. The only information he got from her was that the seller was a psychologist who needed the cash for her practice. Sounded like it may have been deep, personal issues going on as well but he didn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. He took the deal and ran hard and fast.
Today was the big day. Brian and his family were moving into their first home. They parked the U-Haul truck close to the side screen door. Ashley, his wife, had already unloaded some smaller boxes into their new home. With a heavy sigh, he took one last look and proceeded to help.
They’d been at it for fifteen minutes when he noticed someone walking up the driveway.
This guy is fat.
The man jumbled towards him, eating an apple with voracious abandon. Brian knew the guy would introduce himself and picked something up to avoid shaking his hand.
“How ya doin?” the man said, tiny pieces of apple launching from his mouth to the ground. “I’m Sean. Sean Boyd. I live next door.”
“Hi,” Brian said, nodding in greeting with a box in his arms. “Brian. Brian Vale.”
“You have quite a bit of stuff to unload. Mind if I be neighborly and help you out?”
“Well,” Brian began. “I think that...”
“Hi. My name’s Ashley. Ashley Vale. I’m the wife.” She extended her hand with a warm smile as she walked towards Sean, glancing towards Brian with accusing eyes. Brian looked back, annoyance filling the furrow of his brow. He walked inside the house, setting the box on the living room floor before realizing the writing on the side marking it for the master bedroom and moving it there. When he got back outside, Sean was walking back down the driveway.
“I hate it when you do that. You don't have a clue who that guy is, neighbor or not.”
“I’m sorry. I was only trying to be friendly. We are the new kids on the block you know. These days, it’s rare that anyone says boo to you.”
“I know,” he concurred. She was right. “You could have picked someone smaller to be friendly with though. You get too friendly with that guy, he’s liable to eat us out of house and home.”
Ashley glared at him.
“Hey. I’m just saying.”
“Well, he happens to be a nice man. It might be a good idea to keep those kinds of opinions to yourself. As a matter of fact, he's getting a dolly for us so you won’t have such a hard time unloading this truck.”
She gave Brian a big grin.
“Well, just don’t invite him over for dinner. Fat people are like cats. Feed them once and they hang around forever.”
They unloaded all day and even though Brian didn’t want to admit it, the dolly was a huge help. They got the job done faster than expected. Complaints of growling stomachs came later, so he ordered pizza delivery. It arrived just as they finished. Gathering in the living room amidst boxes and furniture, they sat on whatever was available and rewarded themselves by stuffing their faces, guzzling cups of pop with the meal.
“When are you going to put away all of this stuff Brian?”
Brian saw that Sean had displayed manners in front of Ashley and the kids by not talking with his mouth full.
“Whenever I can find the time. Ashley will do most of the unpacking since she’ll be here more than I will.”
“Well, I’m free after three on weekdays and all day on the weekends if you need any help.”
The offer surprised Brian. Ashley was right. He was a nice guy. Fat but nice.
“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
They finished eating then set up the beds for the night. Afterward, Sean left and everyone but Brian soon fell asleep.
Life was good. He had a great job, a supportive wife, a beautiful newborn, and now a gorgeous new home. A classic. Older but roomy which had him worrying about the heat bill in the winter but he’d cross that bridge when he got there. Things were looking up.
With a heavy sigh, he got up and ascended the oak staircase, eager to hop in bed with Ashley, when he noticed the door to the basement cracked open. It dawned on him that he’d been through every part of the house except the basement. His focus was getting everything off the U-Haul and into the main living areas. Their possessions were on the first floor in boxes or the second floor in their respective rooms. He recalled when he had taken a tour of the house that the basement was more like a dungeon. Its age was apparent, the weathered brick and cracked cement flooring. He couldn’t imagine himself using it for much except storage and laundry since the washer and dryer hookups were down there. Possibly the only downside to the house but with some small clean up, it would serve its purpose well.
The door creaked as he opened the door, descending to the landing, peering down the stairs into blackness. Total blackness. Cool air wafted up from below. The darkness had an unnatural thickness, a slight churn wavering in his stomach. He could see about five feet downward before everything disappeared.
The basement in his house growing up was similar. More like a cave than a basement. He and his brother Connor used to play there in the daytime but not at night. Many a conversation
was filled with what lurked down there, from the boogeyman to vampires to serial killers to giant, poisonous snakes.
He chuckled at the thought.
Looking down the stairs, he flicked on the light switch, greeted with nothing but darkness. He grabbed his flashlight, resolving to replace the broken light bulb later so no one would break their necks attempting to go down there at night. After rummaging through boxes for almost ten minutes, he found a flashlight with batteries and moved back to the top of the stairs. A soft click sounded as he turned it on, pointing the flashlight down the stairwell. The darkness swallowed everything but the light which it seemed desperate to extinguish. The stairs descended fifteen feet before halting at the floor.
Cautious with each step, he shined the flashlight in front of him. It appeared darker. He felt the temperature drop as cool air crawled over his skin. Goose pimples rose on his arms and body. He froze. The flashlight shone on an open doorway beyond which he ascertained a lot of nothing. He swept the light from side to side, inspecting the inner walls of unkempt brick. Someone had tried to paint them but hadn’t been able to finish the job, dry paint chipping away in huge flakes that littered the floor. After a few moments, he decided it would be smarter to wait until morning where he could see better and replace all the lights that needed it. He mumbled to himself walking up the stairs.
“I need to get some sleep.”
Part II - Messenger
Murchowski sat behind her desk waiting for her company to arrive, filling her time staring at the brass bowl painting with fruit hanging on the wall. Her fingers steepled in front of her face, elbows on the desk, nose, and chin resting in the in the crook of her thumbs and forefingers. She hated that painting, but it helped to sell the image she wanted to create in her practice.
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