Witchscape

by Y G Maupin

  “What?!” Anesta almost shouted. Why hadn’t Sarah mentioned this before? “Anjolie. Did that woman, Sarah, give this to you? Did she see you?” Anesta questioned.

  Anjolie shook her head. “No it wasn’t the tall white lady. It was the old black lady that lives in their kitchen. She asked me if I liked cats. I told her I was allergic so she said this cat wouldn’t make me sick. Should I give it back to Sarah?” Anesta was dumbfounded. The spirit at Alice and Sarah’s house had been loitering for who knows how long and only recently made herself known.

  “No. I’m sure Sarah would want you to have it.” Anesta looked down at the soft gray ceramic cat, curled up in Anjolie’s palm. “What did that old lady in the kitchen tell you?” Anjolie thought for a moment.

  “She said that she was there to see if she could get her old job back. I asked her why she would want to work for those two white ladies when she could work anywhere else. She said that the house was the place to be at when the spirits started coming back. She was the one that told me how the spirits could come back to life. She told me because the others wouldn’t. Her name is Beverly and I think she is going to push Sarah.”

  Fourteen

  Carla stood by the closet in the master bedroom. This woman had the most boring clothes. But of course, she was about twenty years older than Carla and was as conservative as any self-respecting Southern woman could be. Carla sighed and closed the closet door. Olive peeked her head around from the bathroom.

  “Who’s there?” she asked, stepping out with a towel wrapped around her. Todd followed her out of the bathroom where he had been watching her shower.

  “I can see why he’s probably not interested in her anymore,” he smirked, as he sat at her bed, watching Olive go through her drawers. “She’s as flat as the plains of Oklahoma,” he laughed. “Oh nice choice, granny panties,” he remarked, as the woman got dressed.

  Carla made a face. “You’re sick. That’s like watching your mom,” she added, looking under the bed.

  “I’ve seen my mom, and I can report that she looks ahmaaazing for her age.” He rolled to the edge of the bed to see his wife halfway under it.

  “Whatcha looking for?” Carla dragged a rifle halfway out from under the bed and scooted her way back out. Sitting on her knees, she looked up at her dead husband.

  “We need to help them figure out what to do. We need to give them the right tools to get the job done. We also have to be sure that the tools work well enough for the both of us to go. No use in doing this half way,” she explained.

  They knew Olive, the woman Todd had spied on, already had one gun out. They had to make sure the husband downstairs had the other one.

  “What if they won’t shoot each other?” Todd asked, laying on one side looking over the bed at her.

  “We have to make them do it, Todd. Come on. Let’s work together on this. It’s just like we used to do at auctions, where we would drive the prices up. We have to get each one to up the ante at every chance until they both explode.” Todd made a face. “Do you have a better idea?” Carla was exasperated at this point.

  Todd slid off the bed to join his wife on the floor. “What are we going to do once this happens?” he sat with his back to the bed and pulled his wife close to him. She snuggled into his chest.

  “We are going to live our best lives ever,” she reassured him. “But first, let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. We’ve got a bunch of other stuff to move. Let’s go,” she coaxed him up and they left the room.

  Sharon made it home in time to get chicken breasts out to defrost. Randall would not be home until after 8pm, late for a normal family dinner, but dinner was expected nonetheless. She had left Clay’s hoodie in the brown paper sack in her car to take in the next day. She felt bad for the boy, having been bullied somewhat throughout junior high and high school in her days. She hated that the bullies never went away, they actually seemed worse now than from what she remembered. But back then, she knew how to fade away into the group, figuratively and literally. She was three-years-old the first time she faded and hid from someone. Her older sister had gotten chicken pox and her mother was dead set on getting the younger one infected so to get the hassle of the illness out of the way. Sharon did not like how Sylvia, her older sister was in misery scratching, so when she heard her mother coming down the hallway, she squinted her eyes and imagined herself away among her stuffed animals. She successfully hid for close to ten minutes, until she couldn’t hold it anymore and appeared just as her mother’s back was turned. It took so much strength from her that she couldn’t fight her mom when she put her sister’s sweater on her and had her sit right next to her while they watched public television. The whole process put her to sleep with fatigue. Over her childhood years, she excelled at hide and seek and getting away from being assigned household chores, but she couldn’t stay hidden for longer than fifteen minutes, twenty tops. She knew better than to tell anyone. She had tried telling Sylvia, frustrated as her sister laughed at her and ran away, never looking back to see that Sharon truly was fading into the mulberry bush in the backyard. Sharon had figured out by junior high that disappearing was her magic trick, simple but very useful. She would disappear to shower in the locker room, shy about her curvy body while the other girls hadn’t hit puberty and were lean like boys. Sharon was all boobs and butt. Child bearing hips, is what her mother used to say, tying her kitchen apron around the ones she had herself. But at school, her development was seen as being overweight so she hid herself, even though the boys were paying attention, something that she didn’t want because she didn’t know how to respond to their goggling eyes and lewd gestures and whispers as she walked by. Disappearing was helpful to her to spy on her older sister and pick up secret info that made Sylvia’s jaw drop.

  “How did you know that?!” she would sputter out, as Sharon revealed that she knew Sylvia was getting naked with her boyfriend while their parents were out bowling.

  “Because I know,” she would simply reply, and walk out of the room, triumphant in beating out her sister for once.

  Sylvia had pleaded for mercy and offered her the moon, and Sharon took it all. She got makeup practice and eventually her own eyeshadows and lipsticks after her sister tired of sharing. She got to tag along to movies and concerts every once in a while and she really enjoyed the company of the upperclassman. Unfortunately she was also the one that had to break it to Sylvia when her current boyfriend was sneaking kisses with Sylvia’s friend Tammy at the drive in when Sylvia ran to get more napkins for them. Sharon had walked back to the car and saw them. She hadn’t needed to melt, that’s what she called it, to see that they had their hands all over each other. She sat near the back tire until Sylvia came back and then told her she wanted to go home. Seeing the horrible betrayal of her sister had made her sick to her stomach. She never wanted to see anything like that again. Randall and Sharon had been married for close to twelve years. They had met on a blind date set up by his older sister and Sylvia. He had been active in High School and besides being a football jock, had been in student council and the young business leaders of America. Sharon didn’t like extracurricular activities but she did go to the football games. She wished she had the slim body to be a cheerleader and get the attention from the guys, but that was never going to happen even if she starved herself, which she tried unsuccessfully for an afternoon and gave up and made herself a sandwich. After high school, she had gone to the nearby college and gotten her teaching degree and came home to teach at the high school where she had few good memories. That was when the blind date happened and she was introduced to the sweetest man she could ever meet. Randall had already lost his football physique and the beginnings of a receding hairline were starting to appear. He had been a patrolman for two years now and had even pulled her over once for failing to signal. He let her off with a warning but hadn’t really recognized who she was. They dated regularly and after about eight months he proposed and she joyfully accepted. There were no ch
ildren. They had talked about it and tried but it was never in the cards for them, which she would consult on occasion. They just enjoyed Sylvia’s daughters and the large families Randall’s brothers and sisters created over the years. They were the happy couple who just happened to be childless. Randall stepped in like clockwork eight minutes after eight and gave her a soft kiss on the check on his way to changing out of his uniform.

  “Tough day?” she called out, fixing his plate and searching for his beer in the back of the fridge. She always kept it stocked and cold for when he got home. There wasn’t a reply. She waited a couple more minutes and set the plate back in the oven to keep it warm. Wiping her hands on her apron she made her way to their bedroom. Randall sat on the edge of his bed in his undershirt and work pants. He was looking down into his clasped hands.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked gently. They might have lived in a small town, but the problems that existed in the big city sometimes found a way to make it to their neck of the woods. Being a law enforcement officer came with its personal challenges. Sharon sat down next to him and placed her arm around his shoulders.

  The love of her life turned to her and asked, “Baby, if I said I was ready to work somewhere else, would you think less of me?” Sharon looked deep into his eyes and saw sadness and fatigue. She hugged him now with both arms and rubbed his back.

  “What are you talkin’ about, silly butt,” she said, with a warm reassurance in her voice. She knew that questions and doubts lingered in officers minds, but she hadn’t really ever encountered that with Randall. He was a quiet man and there were only a few times he refused to talk to her about what had happened that night but his change of heart with a job that he loved was something entirely new.

  “When I went in this morning, CJ and Brent had come off a very bad night patrolling. They had responded to reports of peeping toms and people jaywalking but never really came across any perps, which is weird, but the calls just kept coming in. But I guess it was a full moon out last night..”

  Sharon slowly shook her head. “It wasn’t? Well, with the freak activity that’s been going on it was like it was or something because these guys said that this couple came out of nowhere while they were out by the lake. Someone had called in suspicious activity by the dock and the security guy doesn’t work there anymore, so they went to check it out. After rounding the corner they pulled over under a light for a minute and then,” he paused working himself up to finish. “Then they said they saw the weirdest thing. Do you remember Todd and Carla Shipman from softball? Remember, they always thought their shit don't stink and she got caught stealing prescription pads from her doctor’s office but they convinced them not to press charges or whatever they did to not get in trouble? Well, they were out there laughing and acting like they were drunk. Staggering around, jumping on peoples cars. Well they jumped on the cruiser that Brent was driving and started pounding on the windows and trying to open the door,” Randall paused and rubbed his hand down his face ,like he was wiping away the memory. “Honey, they’ve been dead for nine months.” Randall looked at Sharon like he was going to throw up. She didn’t have any words of comfort for him. She actually looked at him like maybe he was going to throw up. She tried a weak smile.

  “Oh, you! Trying to play a trick on me, ha-ha. Yeah not falling for it,” she ended quietly, as he got up from the bed and stood in front of their dresser mirror.

  “Shar, they’ve been on the force longer than I have. CJ was there when they pulled the bodies from the lake that weekend in July. They swear up and down that they know what they saw. After calling in to the station, Judy sent in the other patrol car with Justin and Kimmy in it and they said that although they didn’t see anyone, they also couldn’t explain what was going on with Brent and CJ. They were freaked out and their service revolvers were removed from their holsters. They say they don’t know what happened or how they didn’t have them. They’re both going on leave and there’s going to be an investigation, but baby” he turned around to face Sharon. “I believe them. I know it sounds crazy and maybe I need some time off too but now we’re going to be short some officers and who knows if they’ll even be able to come back. I saw CJ and Brent. They’ve been through worse calls than thinking they saw dead people, shoot they’ve seen dead people at least once every other month just from the highway.” Here Randall paused and looked off into the distance. “I don’t know, babe. Something’s going on around town. It’s one thing to find dead people, it's something else when the people you thought were dead are walking around.”

  Sharon was silently holding her breath. She couldn’t tell him just yet what little she did know. The dead were walking around and what’s worse, they can possess you and even kill you.

  Randall’s shoulders drooped again. He was tired. “This is straight up crazy, I know but it’s happening for real, I can feel it. I just can’t put my finger on it to explain what all it is. All I know is don’t like it.” He looked at her. Sharon was silent and then popped up.

  “Well dinners getting cold. Let’s get you that beer.”

  Fifteen

  Myron entered his home with an, “I’m home!” and hung up his windbreaker on the coat rack near the door. Calvin looked around from his hiding space in the hallway closet. There was no one else there. What a sad sack, Calvin thought, still calling out when no one was there to greet him at home. Calvin was pretty sure that Myron couldn’t see him so there really was no need to hide in the closet but he did so just the same. Calvin wanted to get the part of killer right, so he wanted to be as nefarious as he could be. Killers waited in dark places before they made their move and attacked when their victim least expected it. Calvin was ready with his weapon, a maroon glitter bowling ball. This was one thing he knew he could do, move objects, so he picked the heaviest item he could find at the time and since he was in the closet, the bowling ball was it. It could have been just as easy had he grabbed a knife from the block in the kitchen, but he really didn’t want this to be messy. Myron walked towards the hallway to get to his bedroom and doffed his shoes off into a corner and started undressing. It appeared like he was about to shower, but then he returned down the hallway to go to the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of milk, he went and sat down on the lone recliner and flipped on the TV remote. Jesus, is this man not going to get dressed, Calvin thought. It was disconcerting to kill someone while their Johnson was hanging out. Calvin had averted his eyes out of courtesy for the man when he had walked past, but now he had a sideways view of the accountant and he needed to get on with his plan. Slipping out of the closet, with the bowling ball in his hands he crept up behind Myron, the unsuspecting victim catching the replay of the game earlier that day. Lifting the fourteen pound ball he let it drop right on his head. With an odd bounce off his skull, the man slumped forward and a weird gurgling sound came from his mouth. He had dropped the glass of milk into his lap and it rolled away down his legs to end at the base of the entertainment center. The bowling ball had slipped down by Myron’s hip and was wedged between him and the recliner. That drop hadn’t been enough to kill him. Myron was in serious pain and the brain damage was significant, but he wasn’t close to being dead yet. Frustrated but determined, Calvin walked from around the back of the recliner and looked his accountant in the face.

  “Jesus, Myron. Why couldn’t you have gotten dressed?” Calvin shook his head and attempted to dig the bowling ball out from where it was lodged. It was only a moment of uncomfortable contact, but he had to go on. Also, he felt it was unfair to leave Myron a slobbering brain damaged man, naked with milk drying in his lap. Finally popping it out, Calvin drew the bowling ball back up high and this time he brought it crashing down on Myron’s left temple. That did it, he thought, but at what cost? The mess was unavoidable and he didn’t want to touch the bowling ball again, even more red than its original maroon. He left it cratered in the man’s skull as the thick bone gave way to the force. Myron’s body was still jerking now from the secondary str
ike and it slowed as the brain shut down organs in his dying body. As part of his due diligence, Calvin watched the man die and waited for the transfer that at any moment was sure to happen. Nothing. He huffed at the delay and put his face right up to Myron’s nose area to see if he was breathing. No sound or air. Maybe and the next thing he knew Calvin felt this great sucking motion pull him sideways in a most painful way through the air, a significantly more violent maneuver than it was to move through a wall, but the pain was very real. “Ok, this is it!” he shouted, but internally he was wondering did it really have to be this painful. The roaring in his ears was deafening as he continued to be sucked through what felt like the longest pipe narrowing here and there in waves. The sucking movement and squeeze seemed to last several painful minutes until finally it stopped. Calvin struggled to catch his breath. It had felt like he had been swimming and drowning, but he was on land now. It was literally a beach where he appeared. He struggled to breath and vomited water, not salty but brackish. He felt sand and jagged rocks under his body as he struggled to open his eyes. He was dressed, he could tell as he told himself to wiggle his toes and he did, squishing water as his toes curled within socks and leather loafers. It was early evening wherever he had landed and there were no other people there. But he was breathing, coughing up water still, but breathing. He rolled over with the last ounce of energy he could muster and saw the millions of stars that were beginning to peep out from the sky’s darkening canopy. They twinkled at him. He smiled back and started to laugh.

  Sarah had quietly shut the door to their room and tiptoed down the hallway to the stairs. Alice was out like a light after some fitful tossing and turning. Sarah listened for the other woman’s breathing to slow and turn to snoring, which it did after about twenty minutes. Birdie was in the guest room downstairs, so at the end of the stairs, Sarah made a right and ran right into Beverly.