Mind Hemorrhages: Dark Tales of Misery and Imagination

by Dane Hatchell

  Grinding his teeth and shutting his eyes, Clovis went to push the button, but his finger didn't respond.

  The witch spoke in a low voice, calling enforcement from the netherworld to do her bidding.

  Clovis opened his eyes and saw the room swirl with ethereal plasma. Mystical blue and green flashes cycled in hypnotic fury.

  He pushed against the invasion of darkness assaulting his mind, determined to regain control. He would not be denied!

  The witch felt the power of his resistance, knocking her backward as if something invisible slammed into her.

  His body shook. Clovis felt the force that locked his finger movement start to give. He had begun to gain an edge. He prayed the witch would beg him to stop and reverse her spell on Rooter.

  The Man-Gator stood still as a statue. His soul caught between the two worlds that clashed.

  Sensing the outcome, the witch slipped out of the shack through a side door. Her final incantation cast was to protect herself.

  The dynamite exploded before Clovis realized bitter victory.

  Sitting naked and shaking from her ordeal, Clair felt the shockwave seconds after the house splinted into a million pieces and a huge ball of fire turned to black smoke and rose to the heavens.

  Almost numb from shock, and knowing that Gaston would never see his grandfather again, Claire started the motor and headed for safety.

  The Sheriff and two other boats of armed State Troopers met her not long after she reached the main waterway of Pass Manchac.

  ***

  Dahlia, Claire’s younger sister, waited for two pieces of bread to pop from the toaster. She had come to live with Claire and Gaston two days after Sheriff Browning rescued Clair at Black Swamp. Her sacrifice meant she would not be able to graduate from SLU next year as she had hoped. It was more important to skip the fall semester and help Claire and Gaston adjust to life with Rooter and Clovis both gone.

  Claire was nearly two months into her pregnancy. One of those untimely acts of fate where the woman discovers she is with child after the father unexpectedly passes away.

  The house sat directly on Lake Maurepas, with a full view of the lake from the glass walls all along the back porch. Dahlia loved to spend her quiet time sipping on wine and watching the sailboats and fishing boats pass by.

  The toaster jumped. Two dark brown crowns of toast waited patiently, bring Dahlia’s mind to the present.

  Claire sat at the table, staring blankly into her cup of steaming coffee.

  “You want me to scramble you some eggs?” Dahlia asked, setting the toast on Claire’s plate.

  “No, toast is fine. Gaston may want some eggs, though,” Claire said.

  “Gaston’s already eaten. It’s eleven o’clock.”

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot I overslept. I’m feeling very strange today.”

  “Strange? Do you think there’s something wrong with the baby? Do you want me to call the doctor and see if he can work you in?”

  Claire nibbled on a piece of toast. “No, don’t do that. My stomach feels kind of weird. It’s probably just gas.”

  “Just gas? Well, if you start feeling any worse, tell me and I’ll call the doctor. You don’t need to be taking any chances.”

  “I know. I know.”

  The two finished breakfast and discussed what to have for dinner that night. Claire helped Dahlia clean the dishes and excused herself as she headed for the bathroom.

  Sharp pains jabbed at Claire’s stomach while she washed her hands. She hurried and sat on the toilet.

  Gas rumbled out of her, echoing off the sides of the porcelain bowl. She leaned back and relaxed, felling immediate relief.

  A stabbing pain hit her abdomen forcing her to buckle forward. She realized this was more than a simple gas pain and feared for the welfare of her unborn child.

  Before Claire could call for Dahlia, it happened again. Her insides felt as if it were about to explode from between her legs. Digging her fingers underneath the toilet seat, she watched between her spread thighs as something inside started to move.

  A head started to crown out of her vaginal opening. No, it wasn't a head. This was . . . something else.

  It pushed out and splashed toilet water on her bottom. A medium sized egg floated in the water.

  With the foreign object out of her, Claire felt well enough to lift herself off the toilet, and sat on the floor.

  She had no idea what was going on and didn't begin to know how to explain this to Dahlia, much less a doctor in an emergency room. They would think her insane.

  Pecking noises came from inside the egg. The small face of a tiny albino alligator broke through the shell. Claire watched amazed, and questioned her own sanity.

  The reptile breached itself from the shell and floated in the toilet, looking up at Claire like a grinning log with nothing but evil and malcontent on its mind.

  She reached up and pulled the toilet handle down, evacuating the tank and flooding the bowl. The tiny creature tumbled around as the whirling pool of water sent it down the refuse plumbing, and directly into Lake Maurepas. The house was old. The plumbing had never been connected to a modern sewer system.

  Lucifer returned into the world and pushed itself along the waters with its tail. He fed upon small frogs and insects as he lazily made his way toward Black Swamp.

  The Swamp Witch and the host of wandering souls eagerly awaited his arrival.

  The End

  Schism

  Aldwin pulled the reins and brought the mule to a halt. It had taken him a good part of the afternoon to reach the remote cottage. The ogre was a few meters away. He dared not look him in the eye, knowing to avoid any sign of challenge. A warm breeze carried a foul stench of aged filth and rotted meat. It was all he could do to keep the bile rising in his throat from his mouth.

  A quick dismount from the wagon had his feet on firm ground but on legs with wobbly knees. He grabbed a sack from the floorboard and turned back to the ogre. His gaze remained fixed on the length of each step until the shadow of the brute brought pause.

  “Please, good sir, I am here to repair the roof on the Princess’s home.” Aldwin lifted his head only high enough to see the ogre’s chin, watching for any sudden movement.

  The creature sniffed the air like a beast on the hunt. He held the double headed battle axe across his chest in a perpetual state of readiness. His beard was a matted mess and his clothing soiled from weeks of wear.

  “I am no, ‘good sir.’ I am but a slave compelled to protect. Your business is with the roof. You are not to engage the Princess. Your life depends on it.”

  Sunlight glistened off the top blade of the axe and shined across Aldwin’s face. “My duty is to the Queen and her wishes as well. I shall be no bother to you or the Princess.”

  “Well, see that you aren’t.” The axe pointed toward Aldwin. “What’s in the sack?”

  “It is a roasted lamb.” Aldwin held out the sack using his left arm as far as it would stretch.

  The ogre rested the axe head on the ground and snatched the sack away. He quickly untied it and pulled a hind leg off the lamb.

  Aldwin stole a glance to see the delight on the creatures face as he tore out a mouthful of meat. Aldwin quickly lowered his head and pulled the strap holding a wineskin off his shoulder. “This too is for your enjoyment.” It left his hand as the ogre smacked away on the tender roasted flesh.

  “You have done well,” the ogre said between bites. “Get along with your duties. You must finish while there is still light.”

  There was no hesitation to the command as Aldwin headed back to the wagon. He grabbed the donkey by the yoke and led him to the house.

  A single wooden door in front was the only means of entrance to the modest cottage. The construction was such it resembled a prison more than a habitat fit for royalty. There were no windows visible from his vantage point. Aldwin had often wondered as to the degree of madness that had stricken the Queen’s daughter to keep her isolated in a rem
ote location. What a terrible fate for anyone. He thought it better to drink a cup of hemlock tea and end it all before succumbing to such misfortune.

  The wagon wheels rolled through knee high tor grass, sending a field mouse scurrying for safety, as Aldwin round the back of the cottage. The ogre had the bottom of the wineskin turned toward the sky and drank deeply. Aldwin had been told the best way to stay in the ogre’s favor was to bring him strong drink. Others who had not shown similar courtesy ended up in the ogre’s belly.

  To his surprise a window nearly a cubit square set in the middle of the back wall of the dwelling. Two thick vertical iron bars kept anyone from getting in or out. The Princess was not at the window. He peered briefly inside, and saw the faint glow of a single candle, as he stepped to the rear of the wagon and removed the ladder. The ogre’s earlier warning kept him moving.

  He placed the ladder’s railings against the roof’s edge and climbed the steps to the top. A small section of roof was discolored and felt soft to the touch. Aldwin felt a sense of relief as he was confident the repair could be made in a timely fashion and soon would be on his way.

  He descended the steps and saw four slender fingers wrap around one of the iron bars as he neared the ground. Another set of fingers came from the darkness and grasped the iron bar alongside. Aldwin froze in surprise.

  An angelic face peered through the confines of the cage, with eyes bluer than the evening sky. Hair spun of shiny gold framed high cheek bones and rosy, full lips. The Princess’s expression pulled immediately at Aldwin’s heartstrings. She looked like an innocent child in need, but exuded a fiery desire that stirred the cockles of his heart.

  Aldwin quickly tore his gaze away—felling like he had violated a command from God. Her image remained in his mind’s eye as he paused to make his next move.

  “Help me. Please.”

  The soft voice took hold and compelled his gaze to return. Long eyelashes fluttered slowly as a butterfly sunning its wings on a warm day. Her lips came together in a pout as she tilted her head to the side. “Won’t you please help me?” It was the plea of a dying soul reaching out for the last hope of salvation.

  Aldwin’s urge to flee quelled instantly at the Princess’s gentle snare. He went to open his mouth to speak but hesitated.

  The Princess’s eyes widened as if she were dying of thirst, anticipating a drop of water to fall on her tongue.

  “The ogre—he forbade me to speak,” he whispered.

  “Come closer if you fear he shall hear you.”

  He stepped slowly to the window. The cottage smelled of fresh spring flowers and warm, sensual spices. Time slowed to a standstill. The outside world faded. There were only two in the universe at that moment.

  She loosened her grip from the iron bar and reached out to touch him.

  His hand met hers in a tender embrace. The Princess’s skin felt of the softest linen and the press of her gentle fingertips sent chills of excitement down his spine.

  “I am held prisoner by my mother, the Queen. She keeps me locked away so she remains in power of the kingdom.”

  “But you are not of sound mind. You have been placed here for proper care.” Aldwin lifted his other hand to the window.

  She placed her free hand across his knuckles. “I have been condemned here so that I will not challenge her right to the throne. My father, the King, died before I was born, leaving her in power. She can keep my blood off her conscience by holding me in perpetual bondage. It is she who is crazed. Drunken mad with power. She rules her subjects with an iron fist. Surely, you know this to be true. The woman is evil incarnate.” The Princess pulled one of his hands to her lips and kissed it, and then embraced it against her cheek. “Please take me away from here. I long so to be free.”

  “What can I, hardly old enough to be called a man, do?” Aldwin neared his 19th birthday. “The ogre stands guard. He would slay me with the single swipe of his axe. Even perchance I was able to defeat him, I would still have the Queen’s knights to contend with. I would soon find myself stretched on a rack or in the embrace of an iron maiden.”

  The expression on the Princess’s face withered like the blossom of a flower in a strong wind. Aldwin’s spirit plunged in empathy.

  “If you cannot find it in your heart to save me from my unwarranted fate, I ask you to grant me final peace, and take my life.” Her eyes closed, and tears dripped down her cheeks.

  “My lady, it is not in my power to grant such a request. What would I do? Bash your head in with a hammer? There is no way I could lift a hand against such incomparable beauty.”

  “Letting me live is crueler than death. If you find me as desirable as you suggest, then take me for your own.”

  “My own?”

  “I would make a good wife. We could travel far away and start a new life. I can give you children—a son to carry on your name.”

  “How is the repair coming along? I do not hear hammering,” the ogre called out.

  Aldwin snapped to his senses and found himself gazing into sparkling blue eyes. The Princess looked so helpless, so vulnerable, a sacrifice waiting to be slaughtered. When he pulled from her embrace he felt as if a part of himself stayed behind. His head overruled his heart and returned to the wagon where he gathered several pieces of wooden slats, a few nails, and his tools.

  The Princess continued her longing stare but remained silent. Aldwin ascended the ladder and pried off the rotting shingles before hammering new ones into place. He returned to the ground to retrieve a bundle of thatch and a sack of mud. Once back to the roof, he daubed the mud and thatch over the new construction.

  Aldwin resisted looking at the Princess on his way down the ladder but felt the pull from her desire. He grabbed the ladder’s railings, keeping focus on the steps, and turned to put it in the wagon.

  “Come in the morning. Just after dawn breaks and the woman brings the morning breakfast. The ogre is the groggiest then. Find a way to defeat him.” The Princess extended her arm, searching with her hand as if for one last touch.

  It was all Aldwin could do to muster the resolve to lead the donkey and wagon away. Her sobs of sorrow haunted him as he returned into the deep woods.

  *

  A candle burned atop a human skull on a table made from various scraps of wood plank. The shadows moving in the dim flames flicker kept Aldwin on edge, as he was afraid of a wretched demon’s hand was about to reach out and grab him.

  The crone waited patiently as she sat on a three-legged stool made from crooked wood. Her bony hands stuck out from her black robe’s sleeves and the hood hid her eyes.

  Aldwin had stated his business and had hopes to conclude the deal and be on with it. Coming to this part of the wood was risky enough, and he still needed to make his way back. His eyes continually darted from the crone to the hut’s entrance. He was ready to bolt in a moment’s notice.

  “You were very brave to come here tonight, alone as you are. Why is it you are not worried to be boiled and made into my soup?” The crone’s voiced rasped, damaged by a lifetime of inhaling the essence of smoldering herbs.

  “My mother advised me at an early age to follow my heart. I know you have powers, and I find myself in great need. My need is greater than my fear.”

  “Brave, but perhaps a bit impetuous.”

  “Will you help me?” Aldwin leaned forward in anticipation.

  “I sense a pure spirit within you. Thus, I choose not.”

  Aldwin sprung to his feet. “Why?”

  “I could only help you remove the threat of the ogre. You have no chance of surviving the manhunt once the Queen learns her daughter has been kidnapped. Your blood would be on my hands.”

  “It is for me to decide, not you.”

  “The Princess must be a very lovely young lady to have smitten you so. How do you know you can trust her? She has been stricken with madness since youth. You should return to you mother and rest your head on her bosom until this lustful infatuation passes.”

&nb
sp; “It is not like that,” Aldwin pleaded with his palms lifted. “It is true she had captured my heart. But she is not mad. It is the Queen who is guilty of a crime most horrible. She seeks to keep the throne by any measure. Yes, even if it means the destruction of her own daughter. I have a plan. I will take her away to the north to live with my Uncle’s family. We will have a nice life far away and be no threat to the Queen.”

  The crone laid her hands flat on the table. “I perceive you will attempt your foolishness even without my help. You shall surely die. Alas, I will grant you the advantage you seek.” She rose from the stool amid cracks and pops from old joints and removed a pouch from a shelf on the wall. She placed the pouch in front of Aldwin and sat back down. “This will incapacitate the ogre long enough for you to end his life. The pouch contains a rare mushroom that only I can provide. You must throw this at the ogre from a distance. Your aim must be true and target his chest. The mushroom will turn to powder, and he will breathe its dust. The ogre will be overwhelmed and be yours for the kill. A word of warning, your hand must be gloved, and you must not breathe any of the dust least you end up on the ground beside him.”

  “I will take it.”

  “It is yours, but it does come with a price.”

  “I am prepared. How much for the mushroom?”

  “Two gold sovereigns and I will part with it.”

  “Two gold sovereigns? It is a mushroom, mind you. Two sovereigns are nearly a year’s earnings. I only have a few shillings to spend.” Aldwin tried to contain his surprise, and failed.

  “I am an old woman, not without compassion. What do you have to offer?” Her voice remained calm and collected as from the onset.

  “I have nine whole shillings. Some of which I stole from my mother’s keep unaware. Surely you can find it in your heart to reduce the price that I might purchase the freedom of an innocent girl?”

  The crone chuckled. “The impatience of youth is not a redeeming quality. You are a carpenter, employed by the Queen. I take it your work has you in the castle on occasion?”