Cold Fear

by Timothy Friesenhahn

  Her father had always been distant but nice, nonetheless. Her mother had been a somewhat descent mother until the last year. Once the girl began to develop and turn into a young woman, far earlier then she was supposed to, everything changed.

  Her mother’s hate pushed her closer to her father; that was her first mistake. He spent two years buttering her up doing whatever she asked, when finally, he was looking for something from her in return. Her father came in one night and she let him take what he wanted; what he thought he deserved. The filth of the act that she let her father perform destroyed her and her parents. When she was fifteen, her mother died of a heart attack. A year later, her father died of stomach cancer and he begged his daughter for forgiveness, until his last dying breath. She never forgave him, nor herself. At sixteen, she knew she had the looks of a Goddess. She learned that men were suckers for a pretty young girl. After a year of sleeping with men and receiving money and gifts from them, she learned that she enjoyed the sex. One thing was missing, though, and that was control. She found it through thievery, though. Sex with the men and taking whatever they had was what she had done for sixteen years.

  After her encounter with the smiling man and the crystal ball, she had vowed to change her ways; for a year she stuck faithfully to herself oath. Her car ablaze, being put out by the fire department, she sat helplessly as her landlord approached her with an eviction notice.

  Apparently, she had missed two months of rent without noticing. She had never even checked the mail and since she had no phone, the landlord assumed she had given up on the place. In hindsight, she had given up. She just didn’t realize she had. Her landlord was a plump middle-aged man with a Santa clause like appearance. Except, instead of white hair, his head was fully furnished with bright orange. His dark eyes sat above rosy red cheeks.

  He looked over her as she sat crying and said, “look, Ms. McQuaid, I’m sorry about your car. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. I would let you stay in the house a little longer, but it’s not up to me. You missed your payments and each time I have come to collect; you have been gone. I guess, you’ve never received my letters, or maybe you did. I don’t know. If you want, I can give you a ride somewhere,”

  She had her face in her palms and never looked up at him as she sat there crying. “I have nowhere else to go and now I don’t even have a car. I’m in a bind that’s for sure.”

  Not knowing what kind of advice or what to say to the beautiful lady, her landlord just blurted out, “if you want, you could stay with me for a couple of days. I mean, it wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t think my cat would mind.”

  As he spoke, she began to feel a little like her old self, that emotion she hadn’t felt in a while. She tried to shake it off, but she knew if she was going to continue on and get to east Texas to hide the crystal ball, something had to be done. Her oath would have to be on temporary hiatus. She accepted his gracious offer and he walked her to his big black Cadillac.

  They have only been at his small suburban house for a couple of hours when she realized he wanted payment from her. The payment he wanted was not money, though. He made subtle passes at her, brushing against her when he walked by, or sitting right next her and then scooting over. She knew by the way he looked at her that she could get what she wanted if she gave him her body in return, and with her permission he placed his hand on her thigh.

  “Do you want to screw me?” She questioned.

  Turning quickly to look her in the eyes, his face hot with color as he stuttered, “Uh, but, but, yes, oh yes.”

  Before she could continue to speak, he was already undressing, his fat spotty belly flopping out of his white button up shirt. She could tell this would be quick and easy. She set her bag with the crystal ball concealed by a pillowcase to the side of the couch. She slipped her panties down her legs and pulled up her dress, but before she let the plump red-faced man have her, she demanded, “look, you can have me anyway you want; I’ll give you thirty minutes. I’ll show you love like you’ve never had it, but there’s a price.”

  His small erection was throbbing with excitement as he blubbered, “anything you want, just name it.”

  Smiling as she rubbed herself, teasing him as she requested, “I want three hundred dollars and your car.”

  The plump man’s face went from happiness to anger in a split second. She thought he was going to deny her request, but before he could, she placed his small erection in her mouth and all he could say, “It’s yours, the money, the car, take it.”

  Ten minutes later, she was out the door and disgusted with herself but, nonetheless, fueled to get her life back together. Once again, sex gave her the energy she had lacked in the last two months. A new fire was lit inside her. She stopped at a small motel and cleaned up. While cleaning herself up she cried with regret for what she had done, but at the same time she forced herself to smile because she knew it was the only way. It was the only way she knew how to coax men out of there things and men were so easily coaxed. It was especially easy if you were as beautiful as she was.

  Looking at her reflection in the small bathroom mirror, she spoke to herself, “you’re so vein, it’s disgusting.”

  She left the motel room as she decided to search for Arthur for another week.

  The drive through the dirt roads would be fruitless, she assumed.

  She was wrong, however, because within the first five minutes of driving through Shiloh, Texas, there he was; a small radio in hand and singing to himself.

  Chapter 13

  Lighting a candle, because the light went out in the basement, Cici looked down the dark staircase. All the years she had worked for Ms. McQuaid, the basement had always given a feeling of dread. Every time she had to go down the creaky staircase, her heart would flutter with fear. It didn’t matter how many times she had been in the basement, it never ceased to spook her. She knew there were extra space heaters down there. The air outside had grown so frigid that one or two of them were needed, so she could sit comfortably and await her mother’s call.

  Her sobs settled and the frozen tracks where the tears had ran were defrosting from her face. As she walked down the dark stairway, candle holder in hand, she thought about her father. All the years he had worked so hard to provide for his family, only to have it taken away. It didn’t matter where he moved his family the place had always been corrupt. The only advice he had ever given her was when she was eleven years old. She was helping him weed someone’s house. He always spoke to her as if she were a grown woman.

  “Cecilia, one thing you have to recognize early in life is to never trust anyone. Everyone in this world is corrupted. The days of old are gone. Nobody cares for one another anymore. Does not matter what they look like. Everywhere you go people will be there, and if there are people there then you know there will be corruption.”

  He was a sprite man who was a workaholic. There wasn’t a day in her life that her father didn’t work. That was until he got sick, an illness they never really knew what it was. She had looked up his symptoms on the web, but the answers, at that time, seemed ridiculous and farfetched. Now, however, as she cried softly walking down the staircase, those answers didn’t seem as ridiculous as before.

  The basement reeked; the stench burned her nostrils along with the cold air that hung about. With her free hand she cupped her mouth and nose to try and mask some of the stench. She found a small lamp and set the candle beside it, she switched the light on and looked around the empty basement. Under the staircase sat the only object within the dark room. A few boxes and three old space heaters. She retrieved two of the heaters and carried them to the top of the staircase. The rancid stench still piercing her nose. Her breath could be seen with a frosty mist that left her mouth with each exhale. As she was about to turn the lamp off and leave the basement, she decided to grab the third heater just in case. When she picked it up the plug must have been under the stack of boxes. She pulled on the wire and the boxes fell to the floor. Old magazin
es fell from the top box and a slip of paper. She recognized the piece of parchment, because Ms. McQuaid would leave her requests for the chores of the day written on parchment just like the piece that slipped out of one of the boxes. Bending down, she picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. It was letter addressed to Cici from Ms. McQuaid.

  Dear Cecilia,

  This will surely be the last letter I will ever write to you or anyone in that matter.

  My sweet girl, you have been more help to me than you could ever know, and I wish nothing but the best for you. At my request, I have had my companion Arthur hide this letter in this box in hopes that you may never find it. If you are reading it then, it’s unfortunate, that you have found the letter. If you are in the basement looking for the heaters to stay warm, only the tall metal one works anymore. Also, if you are looking for warmth in this house you will find none. This letter I wrote, hoping you would never find it, because as you read I am going to briefly tell you some dark secrets. In the event that you found this letter, that would surely mean, my grandson Tanner is on his way to view the house and you are there to help. If it is another reason its beyond my knowledge. Anyway, as you know Tanner is my grandson and I very much hope you two like each other. Please, sweetie, just ignore his whore of a wife. I must tell you a few secrets that will surely leave you confused. There will be no need for you to go searching for answers, because none you will find. First, Arthur, my companion, is Tanner’s grandfather. That is something that Tanner does not know and doesn’t need to find out. Second, Once the house is looked through by my grandson, I am sure he will want to sale it. Let him. Third, under my bed in a green box is ten thousand dollars. Take it before he gets there. You would have found the money regardless, because you would have had to clean the house for an estate sale. In the box you will find a similar letter to this one. Disregard it. Fourth, there’s something you should know, and this, my sweet girl, is going to leave you baffled. I must press upon you that all of what you are about to read is true. Please, do me one last favor after all these years you have known me. Trust me. When I was a young woman not, much older than you, I was very promiscuous. I made many bad decisions. I have lived with many regrets. The worst choice I made was stopping at an old fortune teller’s home one day in sixty-eight. He was no ordinary fortune teller; he was no fortune teller at all. He possessed a magical crystal ball, one that granted wishes. The old man used me to wish his health back, and he transformed right in front of my very eyes. He then, by the power of that evil crystal ball, had power over me that was bound beyond our reckoning. The man is no man by any means. He is evil. He is from hell. His name is Moloch. With me dead he will want that crystal ball. Somehow, you must ask Tanner if he still has it. If not, what had been done with it. If its long gone then you should be okay. Tanner will be the one in danger. Moloch knows of him and will surely know that he has touched the crystal ball in his youth. You see, I gave Tanner the crystal ball to hide it from the demon. The scent of a young boy would mask the scent of the magical ball. Moloch eats young boys. The demon will come knocking when you are all there together, that I am sure. Like I said, I was hoping you never found the letter I was hoping Arthur had burned down the house as I requested. The old man has become drained over his long years and he wishes for nothing, but his death. His wish will go unfulfilled; unless you, my sweet Cici, destroy that crystal ball. But first, you must wish into it, wish that the demon Moloch was wiped from existence. This all, assuming that Tanner still has the crystal ball. I am hoping that my one visit to him when he was a child made an impression on him and by chance, he unwittingly kept the ball. If the demon comes knocking, he will be charming, he will seduce you through eye contact, but he will be wearing what he always wears a black leather jacket, black pants, and blood red boots. He will have sunshades on, even in the thick of the snowfall. In the event that he shows himself, don’t try to resist, act as if he is a common stranger, but Cecilia do not let him find that crystal ball, if Tanner still has it.

  P.S. I have a feeling that, if Moloch shows up, Tanners wife will be easily transfixed on him, it is up to you to protect her, if not she will die while being seduced by the demon.

  With Great Sorrow, but still Love,

  Mathelda

  Cici folded the paper and put it in her pocket.

  Ms. McQuiad must have been losing her mind in the end, she thought to herself

  That had to be the explanation for the strange letter, none of it made any sense. She shook her head in confusion as she turned the lamp off, picked up the candle, and carried the only working heater to the top of the staircase. Settling in the kitchen, using the oven as another makeshift heater, she plugged in the tall skinny heater and switched it on. She should have plugged it into a power protector, because it was only on for a minute when the breaker flipped. Pulling her hood back over her head, she sighed with frustration and went outside to flip the breaker.

  The breaker box for the old house resided in a locked cabinet that hung on the side of the house near the back of the porch. Resetting the breaker, she locked the box back, when a loud explosion went off. She looked passed the porch and, in the direction from which she walked every day, a giant fireball lit the sky. Immediate dread filled her body. She couldn’t discern why but she just felt that something terrible had happened. Going back in the house for a moment, she panicked as she searched for her phone. She looked for what seemed like forever until she finally remembered she had set it on the small dresser by the top of the basement staircase. She had tried using her phone’s flashlight app, but it didn’t work. She returned to the front of the house and was dialing her mother’s cell number, when the fat boy and his Latino friend sped by. They never even noticed her, and they looked excited. The feeling that something terrible had happened exploded through her.

  She knew the two boys had cause the explosion. There was no way she could have known, but somehow, she just knew. Her mother didn’t answer. In fact, it went straight to voice mail, and that was unusual. In the years that her mother finally confided into getting a cell phone, she had always answered. In the time that Cici’s father had been sick, her mother would answer before the first ring was finished. This time and the only time it had ever happened, her mother’s phone went straight to voicemail. She dropped the phone and, without hesitation, ran back to her apartment complex with only her mother on her mind.

  Chapter 14

  She stood expressionless, not knowing rather to cry or fall to her knees and wail. The two piece of shit kids burned down the apartment complex in which she lived. She stood at a far distance with a group of onlookers, doing her best to conceal her emotions. Making a spectacle of herself would draw attention and she had done an amazing job over the years of keeping herself hidden. Turning away from the crowd, she walked away not knowing which direction to go, but just walking. The snow still fell heavily but the wind had died down. The small section of the downtown city was empty.

  The pain throbbed in her heart, so she kept walking, until she found a safe spot to let the tears fall from her eyes. Within a few hours Cici had lost her parents, she lost the only family she had. As the minutes drew on and her crying slowed to a less rapid pace, she began to wonder what she would do if she was to get caught. Now she was homeless in America and, if she got deported, she would be homeless in Mexico. She figured that she would get sent to one of the camps in the deserts of west Texas and that thought struck fear in her just as bad as being homeless did. Horror stories surrounded the camps and the treatment of the people. No one knew if it was true or not; that didn’t matter, though, she didn’t want to find out one way or another.

  Her life had spiraled into a black abyss she wasn’t sure she would be able to climb out of. Then the thought punched through her mind, she remembered the letter. Ms. McQuaid had left ten thousand dollars under her bed. She turned and moved quickly to get to the house in hopes that she would beat the grandson there. The way the snow was falling, if he was in fact on h
is way, surely, he would be driving slowly. At any rate, she hurried, nonetheless.

  As she walked through the falling snow, she held her head low and concealed with her hood. The wind was beginning to pick up as it had when she first arrived at the house earlier. There had been plenty of hard winters with bad storms in the mix, but this was the worst that she had seen.

  She could still hear the sirens wailing at the burning building. Tears formed on the edges of her eyes once more. Her mother had burned to her death.

  The piece of shit kids that did this would have to pay, but who would find them? She thought to herself.

  That was something she was unsure of. There was no way for her to find them, she didn’t want to risk being deported. The house was in sight and she noticed inside the living room light was on. She knew for sure she had left no lights on, because she hadn’t turned them on. The only light she used was the lamp in the basement which she turned off, and a candle which she blew out. As she stepped onto the porch apprehensively, a handsome man entered the way. His smile was infectious, his clothes were neat and pressed. Then she saw the blood red boots and the sunshades. It was him; it was the evil man Ms. McQuaid spoke of in the letter. However, before she could turn and run, he grabbed her by the arm with one hand and covered her mouth with the other.

  The gripped his hands held on her were gentle, he only smiled and looked down at her and spoke with a warm tone, “I know what those boys did to your home and your mother. Please, I will let you go, but promise to not scream, I just want to help you. Do you promise?”

  She replied by shaking her head to acknowledge that she would stay silent.