Bob returned home early on Sunday morning. He found his three favorite ladies asleep in the living room. Flo was asleep on the couch, and Dalia and Lucille were sleeping on the floor. He kissed his wife and daughters on the cheek and headed off to bed. After everyone awoke, the entire Becker family enjoyed some quality time together. They all sat at the kitchen table playing Scrabble. The next day at school, Dalia received a strange surprise. When she walked into Mr. Jenkin's classroom, Dalia found a statuesque blonde standing in front of the class. She wore a black knee-length skirt and a red blouse.
"My name is Miss Hobbs," the woman began. "I'll be your sub for a little while." There were a few whistles and a couple of students clapped.
"I want this class to be fun, but foolishness will not be tolerated!" Miss Hobbs said.
"Is that understood?" The class all agreed. So she went on about her task of teaching the class. Her movements were graceful. She moved with the ease of an elite athlete. The bell rang, and the students began filing out of the class. Miss Hobbs called Dalia over to her desk.
"I must ask you to endure these next seven days. You have been hexed. If you endure these next seven days, I will cure you of the hex," Miss Hobbs said.
"How do you know all of this? Also, why do I have to wait seven days?" Dalia asked. Miss Hobbs' hair turned white. Her skin became blue while an immense glowing light shot out from her fingertips.
"I am the goddess Paloma," Miss Hobbs said. "Alex has put a block upon my powers to intervene.
"I don't know if I can make it seven days being hexed by that lunatic Alex," Dalia admitted.
"He's already tried to kill me once."
"Alex needs you alive," said Miss Hobbs. "He can't torture you if you are dead."
"That's not very comforting," Dalia thought.
"I advise you not to let Alex know that you have received counsel from me," Miss Hobbs warned. "He could become desperate, and no one needs a desperate warlock running around. Very dangerous!" Then Palomo turned back into Miss Hobbs. Dalia's mind reeled.
"Seven days of Hell!" Dalia thought as she left the classroom. Her mind remained in a vacuous state throughout the day. She never even noticed that Rachel was nowhere to be found.
"Who cares about Rachel?" thought Dalia. "She's so wishy-washy."
She went home and cranked up the stereo. The music helped to drown out the busyness of her mind. She sat at the dinner table stoically.
"You ok, pumpkin?" Bob asked. "You're awfully quiet tonight, and you barely touched your ziti."
"I know, with Dad," said Dalia. "I've just got a lot of stuff on my mind."
"Care to talk aaboutit
"Not really," Dalia said.
"Might make you feel better," Bob coaxed.
"There's just some things you don't want to talk about; you just have to get through them," Dalia stated. She tossed and turned in bed that night. A terrible dream came upon her. Dalia found herself in the cafeteria surrounded by smiling and laughing students. Her classmates' laughter soon turned to screams. Kids were jumping out of windows. Several kids poured salt in their eyes. A massive stampede started; a few children were trampled to death underfoot.
Dalia raced to the bathroom and examined her face in the mirror. She winced at her own grotesque appearance. Her hair was missing, her eyes were sunken in, as were her green cheeks. She was afflicted with warts all over her cheeks, and her teeth were black. Dalia awoke at 5:00 am. She raced to the bathroom and turned on the light, fumbling around in the dark at first. Relieved, Dalia found her normal face staring back at her. She had pink skin, no warts, with just one tiny blemish on her chin. This was more the curse of puberty than a warlock's hex.
When she got on the bus, it was raining. The students on the bus remained inert, sluggish. No matter how much rain midwestern boys and girls were exposed to, phenomena like rain and snow, several of them became grumpier and more tired.
"If anyone complained about the weather today, they would get popped in the mouth. There was no way any of their petty problems compared with being hexed by a warlock!" Dalia thought. There was a pop quiz in geometry.
"Is there any way I can make it up?" Dalia asked the teacher.
Relax, Dalia," Mrs. George said. "It's only one quiz worth five points, and you're doing very well otherwise." Mrs. George started patting Dalia on her shoulder. In gym class, Dalia reared back and smashed Liza Davis in the face with a kickball. The students all surrounded Liza as she held her nose, writhing around on the ground in pain. Coach Molly hustled over and knelt beside the injured girl.
"Honey, let me see," Coach Molly insisted. Liza removed her hands from her nose and sprayed blood onto Coach Molly's face. She tried to mask her anger and revulsion.
"Bobby," Coach Molly began. "Please escort Liza to the nurse's office." Bobby did as he was told. The rest of the students looked at Dalia, whispering amongst themselves, with their cruel eyes studying her. Dalia tried to shrink down.
"Somebody get the janitor," Coach Molly instructed. "All this blood needs to be mopped up." Dalia stayed after school to shoot hoops. She didn't feel like going home. The pounding of the ball made its own music. The squeak, squeak, squeaking of Dalia's sneakers on the hardwood floor sounded through the gymnasium, too.
"Life always goes on," Dalia thought. She had a week of crap to go through. Afterward, she would be free of the curse. She thought of next season. Dalia would be one year older; she had a great defensive game. She was only fifteen, but she had to improve overall. Her life would be full of ups and downs. She would find love and maybe lose it, typical life stuff. There were experiences in her life that had really tested her mettle, and she persevered. She shot hoops for around an hour and then called her dad to pick her up.
"Dalia," her father smiled. He handed his daughter an envelope.
"This came for you today," Bob said. She tore it open and found a check for four hundred thousand dollars; it was from YouTube.
"That'll help with your and your sister's college education," Bob admitted.
"You can take out two thousand dollars to spend on yourself."
"What about future checks?" Dalia asked.
"You can keep those," Bob stated.
"Sweet," Dalia answered. That afternoon, Dalia decided to take a walk. She could feel eyes studying her. She kept on walking. The clopping of her tennis shoes hitting the wet pavement filled the air.
"Meow." She heard the meowing of a cat behind her. Dalia turned around and saw a cat with one eye and a heart-shaped tuft of white hair across its chest. The rest of the fur was black. She bent down to pet the cat. It leaped up into Dalia's arms. The feline purred constantly. She nuzzled her cheek to his.
Suddenly, a guttural growl sounded behind her. Dalia spun around on her heels to find a ratty German Shepard, down on its haunches, snarling at her. She looked down at the cat, who was shaking like a freezing man in a snowstorm. Dalia kissed the top of his forehead. Now the German Shepherd began barking. The sound gave the cat a jolt of fear to the feline, causing him to leap out of Dalia's arms and race down the street. The dog chased after the stray cat. Dalia took after the dog.
"Leave the cat alone!" Dalia yelled after the thK-9-9. Alex's voice sounded in the breeze.
"You can't escape your fate, Dalia!" The sound of that voice caused her knees to buckle and shake. The leaves on the trees began to shake.
"You're not going to beat me!" Dalia defiantly exclaimed. Next, a pack of dogs happened upon Dalia. They snarled, and their back hair stood straight up as they crouched down. Dalia took off like a human pinball. The pack of dogs chased after the frightened teen. She cut across lawns. The slobbering mongrels scampered, closing in on her, and wanting to go in for the kill. Her breathing matched the dogs' panting. She reached her mailbox. Then Dalia raced inside.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She leaned back against the door; she could hear the beasts scratching at the door. Their barking echoed through the door, quaking. Flo entered the front room.
"What's going on?" Flo asked.
"This pack of dogs chased me home," Dalia said.
"Are you alright?" Flo asked. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"No," Dalia said. The next day, when Dalia stepped outside and a raven popped out of a hedge. He followed Dalia onto the bus. The ebony bird perched and sat in the seat next to her.
"Are you comfortable?" Dalia asked. His glassy eyes stared up at her. He tilted his head to the side while gazing up at Dalia. When the bus stopped, Dalia hopped off the bus, and the raven followed her into the school. Rachel noticed the bird hanging out with Dalia. This all happened by Dalia's locker.
"Who's your friend?" Rachel asked.
"I have no idea," Dalia replied. "Little guy has been following me all day."
"You're not a witch, are you?" Rachel asked.
"No," Dalia started. "I have been hexed, though."
"Wow; really?" Rachel asked. Dalia nodded.
"It really sucks."
"Why don't you swing by my house? We'll see if we can get you hex free," said Rachel.
"You mean that?" Dalia asked.
"Sure, I do," stated Rachel. "I'm a witch."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dalia asked.
"Would you have believed me?" shrugged Rachel.
"Probably not," answered Dalia. After school, Dalia and Rachel headed to Rachel's house. They went right to the basement. There was a poster of a unicorn on the wall, and under that a sofa. Dalia plopped down on the couch. Rachel retrieved a book on witchcraft from the shelf and sat down next to Dalia. Rachel looked in the book, her jaw tightened, and her eyes narrowed.
"It says we need a lock of the person's hair who hexed you," Rachel confessed.
Dalia bit her lower lip.
"I don't know if I could get that close to him."
"You have to try," Rachel pleaded.
"You don't want to stay cursed forever, do you?" Rachel asked. Dalia shrugged.
"It's only going to take seven days. After that, the hex will be lifted."
"A lot can happen in seven days," Rachel answered. "Even…"
Dalia and her friend locked eyes. Something invisible slugged Dalia in the gut. Nerves.
Anticipation of what could be said ate away at Dalia's mind.
"What?" Dalia asked.
"Death," whispered Rachel. Dalia shuddered.
"I don't want to think about that," muttered Dalia.
"Get a piece of his hair," Rachel instructed.
"I don't think you want to do that," said the raven. Rachel and Dalia exchanged confused looks.
"You have been a very bad girl," the raven said, turning into Alex.
"You will suffer, you wretched girl," Alex warned. Rachel charged at Alex, but he seized her, lifting her high in the air, gazing deep into her eyes. His eyes held her transfixed.
"You are my child," he snarled. "You are under my power," Alex commanded. "You will spend every waking moment from now until your task is complete, trying to kill Dalia Becker!"
He released the girl, and she landed on her feet. Rachel turned and glowered at Dalia, squatted down, and hhissedWherever Dalia tried to walk, Rachel cut her off. Alex observed the scene with a grin on his face. Rachel lunged at Dalia. She ducked under her outstretched arms and started up the stairs. Rachel closed in behind her. She reached out and swatted at the air. Rachel grabbed Dalia's ankle. Dalia caught herself with her knees and ankles. It was painful, but it kept bones from being broken. With her free foot, she kicked Rachel in the face. She released her grip and gave a shrill cry of pain. Dalia scrambled to her feet and ran, meeting Rachel's mother when she opened the door. Dalia ran past her. The mother had to tackle the daughter.
"We've got to have you institutionalized," the mother threatened.
Alex, as the raven, walked by the thrashing teen.
"I'll kill you," warned Rachel
That night, L. Ucille shook her sister by the arm.
"Let's go," Lucille whispered.
"Where are we going?" Dalia asked.
"I don't know," Lucille said. "I'll explain later." They headed to a nearby set of woods.
"What's going on?" Dalia asked.
"Mom and Dad were acting freaky," Lucille said. "I'm pretty sure they want to kill us."
"Dad was in the garage, sharpening his ax, and making chomping noises. Mom was muttering to herself while brandishing a butcher knife."
"They are obsessed," Dalia confessed. Then she went on to explain about the hex.
"What can we do?" Lucille asked.
"We'll stay here tonight, and tomorrow we'll talk to Miss Hobbs," Dalia suggested. They slept on the ground. The next day, they headed to school dirty. Lucille and Dalia met Miss Hobbs after Dalia's English class.
"I'll let you girls stay with me until it blows over," Miss Hobbs said.
"On Monday at midnight, I'll be able to interfere and break the hex."
"Thank you for helping me," Dalia said.
"No problem," stated Miss Hobbs. "You'll have to stay at my house all week. No school, no leaving, no kidding!"
"I don't want to leave," said Dalia.
Later that afternoon, all the windows were drawn at Miss Hobbs' house. The sisters were sitting on the sofa watching television. Lucille turned to Dalia.
"Didn't you say Miss Hobbs is a Goddess?"
"Yeah," Dalia stated.
" Why would a Goddess need a house?" Lucille asked. Dalia shrugged.
"Beats me."
"I just don't think it makes sense," Lucille maintained.
"Maybe she has been hiding on Earth for a long time," Dalia suggested.
"This whole thing is crazy," Lucille admitted.
"Will our lives ever return to some semblance of normalcy?"
"When the hex is broken," said Dalia.
"There has to be remnants of the curse lingering after something like this," Lucille stated.
"Think positive," Dalia said.
"You didn't see the look in Mom and Dad's eyes," Lucille answered.
"They seemed so animal crazy."
"I saw my best friend's eyes, though," admitted Dalia. : She tried to kill me."
"What brought this curse on?" Lucille asked.
"I signed a joke name for an autograph," Dalia admitted.
"That's it?" Lucille asked.
"Yep," Dalia nodded.
"Absolutely crazy," Lucille stated. "What an unlikely causation. This dude must be nuts."
"I would be the one to mouth off to a male Annie Wilkes," joked Dalia.
"I didn't know you had read Misery," Lucille pondered.
"Never read it," shrugged Dalia. "Just saw the movie." There was a silence between them. Then the girls went back to watching television.
"Not sure where Miss Hobbs is?" Dalia said.
"I don't really care," remarked Lucille. "I am just glad we're here together and safe."
"You and I both," Dalia responded.
Both girls sank onto the sofa. Their eyes grew heavier; both ladies let out yawns. They went to their sleeping quarters. They took a nap and awoke a few hours later. It was after dark now. When the tree branch scraped against the window, Dalia sat up on her cot.
"Are you awake?"
"Yeah," answered Lucille.
"I'm really looking forward to having our normal lives back," Dalia commented.
"It will be," stated Lucille. "Still not sure if it will all work out in the end," Lucille said.
"I love your optimism," joked Dalia. Then she went off to the bathroom. Next, there came a tapping at the window. Lucille noticed a raven tapping at the glass. Lucille felt some force inside herself; it caused her to walk over to the window. She stared into the beast's eyes.
"Kill! Kill!" It urged her to murder Dalia. Lucille found a baseball bat nearby and picked it up. Dalia returned from the bathroom. She saw her sister staring at her with the bat in her hand.
"Why do you have a baseball bat?" Dalia asked, trying not to panic. Lucille just stared in silence, thinking to herself: "Kill, Kill, Kill!"
"Put the bat down," Dalia pleaded.
"No," Lucille replied. Then she lifted the bat and charged at her sister. Dalia lowered her shoulder and tackled her crazed sister. She took the bat from her and threw it across the room. They wrestled around the room, battling until fatigue overtook them. They passed out.
At last, the big day came. A fierce battle raged on; Polomo and Alex were both killed. The curse was really broken. Lucille and Dalia's lives returned to normal. The hex was finally gone! Dalia and Lucille remembered the ordeal, but no one else did. Not Rachel, Flo, or Bob either.
Chapter 7
The autumn leaves blew in the wind. Today was a special day; it was Lucille and Dalia's birthday. They were college freshmen attending Buck University. It was a small college in the town of Scott, Oregon. There was a nearby park. Some college kids engaged in a game of touch football. The gentle wind kissed Dalia's face as she ran. Her ponytails swayed from side to side.
Her shorts were black, exposing muscular but still very feminine thighs. Her muscles ripped as she ran. From her sophomore year in high school and Dalia had taken to weight training. Right before starting college, Dalia had dyed her hair blonde. Her tanned skin complemented the new hair color nicely. The sun shone brightly. Yet the cold would be here before they knew it. Then the snow would come. A Midwestern girl like Dalia was used to the snow. Because she played her sport inside, the cold would not affect her game.
Some of the boys stopped and observed the pretty girl running by. She ignored them. Boys stared; that was what they did. Their admiration for their perception of the ideal female form caused them to seek out the most attractive mates. She was not looking for a boyfriend. Dalia was nineteen years old today and a college freshman. She was in an environment of change and stability at the same time.
This was certainly not high school anymore. If you were given an assignment, you were expected to do it. If you did not, your grade suffered. You weren't going to be coddled by your professors. They were lifelong academics who expected their students to discipline themselves the same way they had when they were college students.
The bell rang, and Mr. Phillips walked into the classroom. He wore blue jeans and a long-sleeved, collared shirt, a tie, and sandals. His hat was bright red. Lucille observed this from her vantage point. They all sat at a round table. Mr. Phillips and Lucille helped bring the total in the class to six. The slogan on the hat was Make America Great Again.
"Write about it," Mr. Phillips said, pointing to the hat. So the pencils started to fly. Mr. Phillips observed the students as the scribblings of their hearts poured onto the page. After fifteen minutes, Mr. Phillips asked their students to pass their writings to the professor.
"Again," Mr. Phillips reiterated. "I don't care what you write. You can call me the Antichrist if you like; I just want you to get the points." Then he got up and walked over to the chalkboard, grabbing a piece of chalk, gripping it in his hand. He started writing on the chalkboard. Mr. Phillips dropped the chalk, spinning around on his heels.
"As you can all see, I wrote the words' fake friend on the board."
He took a slight pause before continuing.
"A false ally or foe trope is when a person in a film who poses or seems to be a friend turns out to be an ally or vice versa." The class looked on in wonderment and intrigue.
"A few films that use this trick are: Last Action Hero, Total Recall, and Die Hard 2..
Said Mr. Phillips.
"Does anyone know why a screenwriter would bother with a trope like a false friend/ally?" A pudgy student with freckles and glasses raised his hand.
He wore blue shorts and a black t-shirt that read:
Sci-fi is my drug of choice. It's a reflection of the real world," Herbert replied.
"Exactly," Mr. Phillips replied. Then the bell rang.
"See you all on Wednesday," Mr. Phillips said.
After class, Lucille headed back to her dorm. She saw her sister sitting on the bed, cross-legged, and reading a book on basketball. Lucille sat down at her desk and fired up her laptop. She started reading a script assigned for class.
"There's a colloquium tonight," Dalia stated. "Are you going?"
"What is it?" Lucille asked.
"It's some author named Gary Wright," Dalia replied.
"Oh, I love him," Lucille answered. "What time does his talk begin?"
"About 5:30 pm," Dalia said.
When 5:30 pm rolled around, the room was full. It was not a big place; there were twelve chairs. Every one of those chairs was filled. On the front rectangular desk was a sign-in sheet. Lucille reached over for the pen as a handsome stranger. His eyes were brown and looked like wet marbles.
"Please, ladies first," the handsome stranger named Kenny said. Lucille signed in and handed the pen to Kenny. She tried not to stare. They took their seats; Kenny sat in the row in front of Lucille. The author, Gary, walked into the room. He wore a gray Armani suit, with Gucci shoes, and a two-thousand-dollar Rolex. He stood behind the little podium and then grabbed the top of the podium.
"Hello, Buck students and faculty. My name is Gary Wright, and I wrote Power," Gary said.
"What would you do with unlimited power?"
Lucille looked at Kenny. Her stomach ached a little, and her mouth felt a bit dry.
"Imagine if you had everything you ever wanted," Gary said.
Kenny leaned in, his eyes focused wolf-like on the speaker.
"You have to start with a visualization," Gary said. From that, you have to pursue it relentlessly." The talk ended, and the students were let out. Lenny approached Gary. Lucille stayed behind, too. Gary and Kenny shook hands. Lucille could not understand what they were saying from her vantage point, but they both seemed heavily engaged in a serious conversation.
When 6:30 came about, Professor Moss walked in dressed in black. His hair clashed with his dark clothes s Professor Moss's hair happened to be white. He carried a briefcase into the classroom. He set the case on his desk, walked to the front of the class, and began lecturing.
"In this world, there is a realm of existence beyond the natural; it's referred to as the supernatural," began Professor Moss. "By a show of hands, who thought that witches and warlocks were just the stuff of storybooks, television, and films?"
Everyone raised their hand except for Dalia.
"I don't mean to embarrass you, but I noticed you did not raise your hand," Professor Moss said.
"Yep," Dalia answered.
"Do you have any experience with witches or warlocks?" Professor Moss folded his arms across his chest. "Hmm?" he said.
"Well," Dalia started. She could feel all the judgmental eyes studying her.
"I uh, was hexed by one." He examined her for a moment, and his body remained completely still.
"Remarkable!" replied Professor Moss.
"What was the warlock's name?"
"His name was Alex Sanders." Dalia's voice was practically a whisper.
"That is absolutely remarkable," Professor Moss said.
"After class, would you care to meet me in my office?"
"I guess," shrugged Dalia.
"Alex Sanders was a powerful warlock," began Professor Moss. "He started his own religion, a sect of paganism known as Windfire. He was believed to have conceived a son with the goddess Polomo." Dalia's jaw dropped; she could not believe her ears. Dalia had stayed in Polomo's house. She had become a makeshift mentor for Dali, and now she was to learn her enemy and mentor had shared a bed.
"Alex was known to have a violent temper," Professor Moss admitted.
"He had turned his son into a chicken for defying him. The spell was eventually broken after Alex's death. What the boy looks like will be a mystery, but he will have a birthmark on his left wrist in the shape of a dragon's skull."
The class let out. Then Dalia followed Professor Moss into his office. He took a seat in his big leather chair, leaning back, and placing his hands behind his head. She took a glance over her shoulder and observed a bookshelf filled with books on the paranormal.
"You are a very lucky human being," Professor Moss admitted.
"Why is that?" asked Dalia.
"You were able to have a curse laid upon you by the greatest warlock that ever lived," said Professor Moss. "I find paranormal studies fascinating. You are a walking testimonial to the validity of warlocks, and the one true religion is Windfire."
"Lucky me," muttered Dalia. "May I go now?"
"Go ahead," Professor Moss said. "You're free to go." Then Dalia exited.
She got back to her dorm room around 10:00 pm. Her Paranormal Studies class was held on Monday nights from 6:30 to 9:45. She found her sister watching a movie upon her return. It was some sappy romance flick.
"Hey, dude," Dalia said. "What's up?"
"Since when am I a dude?" Lucille asked. Dalia chuckled.
"Just seeing if you were paying attention. Anything exciting happen in your world?"
"I'm pretty sure I met my future husband today," Lucille admitted.
"What's the gentleman's name?" asked Dalia. Lucille shrugged.
"Beats me."
"I can see the wedding invitations now," joked Dalia. "Mr. and Mrs. Unknown Name."
Lucille wore a mask of shame and embarrassment.
"I tried talking to him, but I chickened out."
"Relax," said Dalia. "Let the old love doctor show you how to pick up a guy."
"If you're the love doctor, I'm in big trouble," said Lucille.
The next day, Dalia handed Lucille a top. It was one of Dalia's own shirts. Lucille tried it on and studied herself in the bathroom mirror.
"It's a little revealing," Lucille said timidly.
"Guys like when you show a little skin," Dalia said.
"I don't feel comfortable wearing something this revealing," Lucille protested.
"But you look so cute in it," Dalia admitted.
"Really?" asked Lucille while studying herself in the mirror once more.
"I suppose it does have a certain charm to it."
Today was Tuesday; she had Biology. The class was held in a relatively big lecture hall. There were thirty-five students. Yet there were only thirty-four students in the class here today. There had been thirty-five students initially, but one student named Arnie had dropped the class after the first week.
"Be natural, be yourself, and be confident," advised Dalia.
"Sounds like you got that from some cheesy motivational poster., Lucille remarked.
"Good luck!" Dalia stated.
Lucille entered the lecture hall and made her way toward the back of the auditorium. She was one of the first ones to arrive. She put her book bag down by her feet after pulling out a gel pen and a notebook. The more students that poured in, the more she tried covering herself. Most of the seats were taken except for the one right next to Lucille. In walked Kenny, clad in blue jeans and a black skater t-shirt.
"Mind if I sit here?" asked Kenny.
"Ah, okay," Lucille answered. Kenny sat down.
"I just added this class this morning," Kenny admitted. "How's this professor?" asked Kenny.
"They call him The Bonecrusher," revealed Lucille. In walked a bald man, wearing a scowl and an ill-fitting brown suit. Kenny leaned over and whispered to Lucille.
"He doesn't look so tough."
Lucille did her best to stifle a smile. She noticed a birthmark on his wrist.
"What's that?" Lucille asked.
"That's a birthmark," Kenny answered.
"It's supposed to signify my inner strength. It's called the Rage of the Dragon."
"Cool," replied Lucille.
After class, Kenny wrote his cell number on a piece of paper and handed it to Lucille.
"I think you're a really cool girl," Kenny admitted. "I'd really like to get to know you better."
Later in the day, Lucille found herself at rehearsal. She was going to be in a play entitled:
"Mr. Laramie Says Things." It was made up by the drama teacher, er, Mr. Warren.
She strode out on stage full-voiced, confident, and in her element. She found herself dressed in rags. A fellow castmate by the name of Hope Moore addressed Lucille.
"You look most unpleasant," Hope said.
"You should pay me better if you want me to afford something fancier than rags,"
replied Lucille.
"If I paid you any more money than I'd be the one in rags," Hope said.
Dalia was in the gym. The logo, a giant steer, was painted on the midcourt. She dribbled and shot, swish. The ball went into the net. A girl walked into the gym. She had fiery red dragon's breath hair and moved with a long and easy stride.
"Care to play a little one-on-one?" the girl asked. Dalia turned around.
"I'd like to know who's challenging me."
"The name is Karen Watts," the girl said. "Junior point guard."
"Dalia Becker. Let's play." Karen spun out of the way of Dalia. Swish. When Dalia had the ball, Karen stole it right back. They played to twenty-one, and Dalia only scored four points the entire game. She hunched over, hands on her knees.
"You got some sweet moves," Karen said. "But you've got to do better than that to best me."
"Are you trying out for the team?"
"Yeah," Dalia said.
"The season starts in November. You've got some time to improve," Karen stated.
"You should be proud." Dalia's eyebrows raised.
"Why is that?"
"I've played everyone on the team recently, and you're the only girl to score four points against me," answered Karen.
"I feel so special," mocked Dalia, trying not to vomit.
Karen looked her up and down and said with a grin:
"You're really pretty. If basketball doesn't work out for you, then you can always take up cheerleading. I'm sure you'd look real cute holding a pair of pompoms."
Dalia's blood bubbled under the surface of her skin. They played another game and then another. Each game was a little better for Dalia than the previous one, but the result was always the same. Karen won and Dalia lost. She returned to her dorm room, salty and tired. She fell face down on the bed. Dalia started to drift off to sleep, but was jolted back into the waking world by the sound of her sister entering the room while singing.
"I'm walking in the sunshine." Dalia looked at her sister.
"Why are you so chipper?"
"Remember that guy I was telling you about?" Lucille asked.
"Your future husband?" asked Dalia. Lucille nodded.
"Turns out his name is Kenny and he gave me his cell number."
"Cool," Dalia said. "Looks like my advice worked."
"Yeah, right," Lucille said. "He has this interesting birthmark."
Dalia sat up in bed; she leaned in. Lucille dropped down on her own bed.
"What does this guy's birthmark look like?" Dalia asked.
"It looked like a dragon skull," Lucille admitted. Dalia wanted to scream. She felt as though Mike Tyson himself had slugged her in the gut. Her jaw hit the floor.
"What?" Are you joking?"
"No, I'm totally serious," Lucille responded. "Why?" Dalia shifted her weight.
"Sounds like an interesting birthmark. You said he gave you his phone number?"
"Yep," Lucille stated, blushing slightly.
"You gonna call him? Dalia asks, locking eyes with her sister.
"Lucille shrugged. "I'd be too embarrassed."
"He gave you his number, didn't he?" Dalia questioned.
Lucille nodded. "Absolutely."
"He clearly likes you," Dalia said. "What are you waiting for?"
"Why are you so worried about my love life all of a sudden?" Lucille asked.
"The birthmark," Dalia said.
"Yeah," Lucille stated," What about it?"
"My Paranormal Studies professor told me Alex Sanders' son had a birthmark in the shape of a dragon's skull on his left wrist," Dalia explained. Lucille shook her head.
"Why would a warlock's son go to a small college in Oregon?" Lucille wondered.
"You're stretching," Dalia admitted. "If you don't call this guy, I will," warned Dalia.
"Alright," Lucille said. "You are annoying."
Lucille examined the paper and pulled out her cell phone.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Ask to meet him at Post for coffee or something," Dalia answered. And ask him if he minded if your sister tagged along."
"Why do you want to come?" Lucille asked.
"I want to have a three-way," Dalia joked.
Lucille started laughing. All her tension left.
"Be serious. Do you want to check out his birthmark?"
Dalia nodded. "After that, I'll split."
Lucille dialed the number. She heard it ringing.
Kenny answered. "Hello?"
"Ah, hi. It's Lucille Becker. I was wondering if you'd like to meet for coffee over at Post?"
"Sounds nice," Kenny said.
"Would you mind if my sister tagged along?" Lucille asked.
"Not at all," Kenny stated.
"Great," Lucille said as her voice cracked.
"See you soon," Kenny answered.
Dalia and Lucille sat at Post awaiting the arrival of Kenny.
"Do you think he'll show?" Lucille asked.
Dalia laughed. "He's meeting two chicks; the guy probably thinks he's gonna get lucky."
Lucille frowned.
"That's the second joke you've made about sleeping with the guy I like. Reel it in."
Dalia rolled her eyes.
"Relax. I think this may be the spawn of the creep that hexed me. I'm not looking for a date."
"The fact that I'm your sister and I like this guy has nothing to do with your decision to try and seduce him?" Lucille said. Kenny walked in, ordered a cup of coffee, and walked over to the table where Dalia and Lucille sat. He smiled when he saw Lucille and grew much more serious when he locked eyes with Dalia.
"This is my sister Dalia," said Lucille. Kenny reached out his left hand. Dalia examined the wrist of the boy. He realized his Faux pas and quickly switched hands.
"Sorry," apologized Kenny. "I forget polite society encourages us to shake with our right hand." "What polite society doesn't hurt it," Dalia stated, extending her left hand. He smirked.
"What are conventions but humans trying to place order into their frenzied lives?"
They gripped their left hands. A strange pulsating current of energy shot up Dalia's arm and raced through her entire body. She observed the birthmark, studying it, noticing structure, color, size, and shape.
"That's quite an interesting birthmark," Dalia admitted. He pulled his arm away.
"It's a symbol of my inner strength, a dragon," boasted Kenny.
"Does it have something to do with Windfire?" Dalia locked eyes with Kenny. The boy's eyes flashed a quick shade of yellow, and his pupils became a bit lizard-like. All these changes to the eyes came and went within half a second. Windfire was the name of the religion my father started," admitted Kenny.
"My father, Alex Sanders, is the greatest warlock in the world." Dalia's nostrils flared. She slammed her fist on the table.
"Alex Sanders was a nut case. He hexed me and tried to have me killed, but now he's dead."
A hoarse laugh devoid of much emotion escaped Kenny's throat.
"My father is very much alive, or at least clinging to it. You did this to him!" growled Kenny. The son of a warlock raised his hand, and the doors locked by themselves. When Kenny snapped his fingers, tables and chairs flew through the air. People went flying against walls or crashing onto the floor. Students shook their heads while muttering and cursing. They were also rubbing their heads and aching backs. They staggered to their feet and tried ascending upon the young warlock, but a ring of flames shot u, keeping the potential mob at bay.
"You listen here," Kenny roared with anger. "When you're nicer to me, you can have your precious sister back!" He grabbed Lucille by the waist. Dalia leaped at Kenny, but more flames shot up and boxed her. In an instant, a gray puff of smoke engulfed Lucille and Kenny, and then they vanished.
The fire disappeared, and the doors unlocked themselves. Everyone kind of looked all around, confused. They all put the tables and chairs back in their normal places and just went about their tasks. It was as if nothing had happened.
"What's wrong with you jerks?" Dalia demanded to know. "My sister was just kidnapped. Isn't anyone going to try and help me get her back?" Everyone stared at the girl. Whispers of:
"She's crazy," and "Who's she talking about?" could be heard from the crowd. She pulled her cell phone out and called the police. After examining the campus for several hours, the police left. Her knees shook; she felt sick. Dalia sprinted through the campus. People watched her pass by. Some sneered, nd others shook their heads. By the time she got to her dorm, Dalia was spent.
She dug through her backpack searching for her syllabus for the "Paranormal Studies" class. She found it, clutching it like it was the map to the lost city of Atlantis. She looked for Professor Moss' number and called him. She kept whispering and repeating the phrase..
"Come on, pick up."
"Hello," Professor Moss stated.
"Professor Moss," began Dalia. "Kenny Sanders kidnapped my sister, please help me!"
Dalia. Pleaded.
"Meet me in my office in twenty minutes," replied a seemingly placid Professor Moss. She hung up the phone and hurried off to the meeting with Professor Moss. She waited by the door with great anticipation. Her foot began tapping; she folded her arms across her chest. Then she started pacing; back and forth she walked. Finally, Professor Moss arrived. Her heart leaped with jubilance. He unlocked the office door and ushered her inside. His arm was in a sling.
"You say your sister has been kidnapped?" asked the professor standing over her.
"Yes," Dalia replied. "By Kenny Sanders."
"There is no such person as Kenny Sanders or Lucille Becker. There is no record of either of these two people enrolled in Buck University at this time," insisted Professor Moss.
"That's a lie! Help me find my sister!" screamed Dalia. He leaned in, clutching the girl's wrist. He pulled a syringe out of his sling. Then the professor stuck her with the needle.
"Ouch," she cried out. Dalia fought back at first, but she started getting drowsy, and then she passed out.
Chapter 8
Awakening a few hours later in a daze, she found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. She sat up and climbed to her feet. Her eyes needed time to adjust to her new surroundings. She bumped into something but couldn't see what it was. She peered into the darkness, squinting, and secretly wishing for feline night vision capabilities. She felt around a wall. When she found it, Dalia slid her hand along the wall, feeling for a light switch. When she found it, Dalia flipped the switch on, and light poured into the room.
The room was fairly basic, with four walls and a bed, not much else. No windows were present. She noticed there was a mail slot in the middle of the door. She walked over to the door, peered through the slot, and saw a massive Rottweiler staring back at her. It began barking and gnashing its teeth. She closed the slot, staggered backward, and tried desperately to catch her balance. She failed, landing hard on her back. Dalia stood up, rubbing her sore backside.
Next, a letter came through the mail slot. She opened it; the letter read as follows:
"Dear Dalia,
You are in your new abode. You are going to witness the birth
of the second coming of the greatest warlock in the world.
Congratulations Mommy!
More to come.
Sincerely, a friend."
She gawked at the letter while her head throbbed.
"What the heck?" she muttered. "Mommy?"
Dalia tried opening the door. She tried rounding on it, beating on it, and kicking it.
"Hey, let me out of here," she demanded. She paced the room. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, suffocating her, crushing her, and causing her to go down, down, down. What story was it her sister had read and was always talking about? The Fall of the House of Usher. She seemed to remember Lucille talking about the guy in that sto, burying his sister in the wall.
She shuddered. "Don't think about that," she scolded herself. "You've got to find a way out of here."
Something metal fell through the mail slot; it shone. Dalia walked over to the shiny metal object. Upon closer examination, Dalia figured out it was a key. She picked it up and studied it more. Next, she tried unlocking the door, and the key worked. When she opened up the door, the massive Rottweiler leaped at her. She evaded the raging k-9 and managed to lock the dog in the room by itself. Polomo appeared before her.
"Polomo," Dalia said, transfixed in place. "You're dead,"
"My spirit lives!" declared Polomo. "I need to be reborn. "You are with a child. The baby will be my vessel to rebirth." Dalia shook her head.
"I can't be," Dalia stammered. "Do you mean I'm…?" Palomo smiled and nodded.
"How?" asked Dalia.
"Kenny," Polomo answered. Dalia started dry heaving. The back of her throat stung as she tried to swallow what she wanted to be puke.
"I don't know what to do?"
"That's natural," Polomo said. A window was nearby. "We'll talk later. We need to escape," Polomo hoisted Dalia up and helped her exit through the window. Once Dalia had been freed, Polomo turned herself into fog. The spirit of the goddess easily slipped through the window. Now, both Dalia and Polomo were standing outside the house.
"Where are we?" Dalia asked.
"This is Professor Moss's house. He's a member of the Windfire Cult," Polomo informed her.
Dalia just shook her head. "I'm so confused."
"We'll catch up once we're back on campus," Polomo said. The goddess enveloped Dalia in a shroud of mist, scrambling up the teen's molecules. They returned to campus, more specifically, they returned to Dalia's dorm. Polomo returned herself and Dalia to their original forms. Now Dalia felt as though the room was spinning. She clutched her head and collapsed on her own bed.
"A brief dizzy spell is normal after scrambling and unscrambling a person's molecules. It will pass," Polomo assured her. Dalia sat up in bed.
"I'm fine. How big is this cult?" Polomo looked at Dalia.
"They are a small sect, but are looking to grow."
"Nice and cryptic," Dalia said.
"I'm going to tell you what I'm gonna do…" Then there was a knock at the door. Dalia answered it, and a figure holding a bloody knife reached out her arms and wrapped them around Dalia's neck. Unbelievablewhydidn'tt it turn out to be her sister Lucille!
"You're alive!" Dalia exclaimed. "How'd you escape from cuckoo Kenny?"
"We fought, ht and I grabbed the knife he was holding. Then I forced it into his horrible chest," stated Lucille. Polomo took the knife from Lucille and licked the blood off the blade.
"That's the blade of Divinity; it's the only thing that can kill off a warlock," Polomo said.
"And most assuredly, that is the blood of a Sanders."
"Professor Moss told me that you had conceived Kenny with Alex," Dalia admitted.
"You are correct," replied Polomo.
"How could you do anything with that creep?" Dalia asked.
Polomo shrugged, letting out a deep sigh.
"I was attracted to the power. It may be hard for you to grasp the concept of Alex being charming and dancing barefoot in the rain." Dalia pretended to stick a finger down her throat.
"No woman is an island," Polomo said.
"John Donne," Lucille said. "It's paraphrasing anyway."
"We have a desire to be loved and cherished," Polomo added. Next, Polomo walked over to Dalia and placed her hand over the teenager's belly; then Polomo vanished. She reappeared a few moments later with a long face.
"Another uses this child as a vessel for rebirth.
"Who?" Dalia sounded alarmed.
"Kenny Sanders," Polomo admitted. Right then, Dalia flew into a rage. Her face contorted into an ugly mask of anger, her temples flushed with blood, and her nostrils flared. She gritted her teeth, and Dalia clenched her fists.
"That no good slime ball!" Dalia ranted. I'm going to have Sanders' baby? No way!" Dalia took the blade of Divinity and plunged it into her own chest. Lucille flew into a panic.
"We've got to get her to a hospital!" Blood poured out of Dalia's gaping wound. It also gushed out of her mouth. Dalia dropped to her knees, and the world began darkening. She saw a rush of images flood her memories, life events, dead relatives, along with her entire past. Dalia's world first fell into darkness and then came back into light.
Suddenly, she found herself in a forest. The sky was bright; the sun warmed her. An enchanting voice with an intoxicating melody filled the ears of the confused Dalia.
"Where am I?" wondered Dalia. "Am I dead? Is this purgatory? Heaven?! A mass hallucination from hemorrhaging blood?" she shrugged. The sun warmed her arms, legs, and face. The trees were tall and strong, sprouting green vegetation for hair. She continued walking. The singing grew louder the closer she grew to its origin. It was not a song she recognized.
The song was not even in her own language. Instead, it was being sung in Italian. She came across a stump, and upon the stump sat a maiden with long dark tresses. Her back faced Dalia. The mystery girl played a harp. She wore a blue dress. Dalia approached her.
"Excuse me," she called out to the singing lady. Her singing and her music stopped.
"Your music is absolutely beautiful. Is this Heaven?" Dalia asked. There was silence.
"I don't mean to bother you, but I am lost; I just want to know where I am." The Italian girl turned her head around. She was missing a face; there was only a skull. Dalia screamed while her legs turned to rubber. She forced herself to run away, venturing deeper into the woods.
"If this isn't Heaven…" Dalia just shuddered. The deeper she went into the woods, the more the trees started to block out the sun. Not only did the amount of light present change, but so did the temperature. Instantly, Dalia noticed a twenty-degree drop in temperature. She shivered and hugged herself for warmth. Son, even the vegetation atop the trees was no longer there. Why is there no light and all the trees are bare now?" Dalia wondered.
She came across a makeshift altar in a clearing. Men wearing animal masks danced around a campfire. At the altar, a headless goat lay strapped to it. A naked being with the upper body of a man and hooves for feet stood at the altar. He was reciting from the book of Satan, in Latin. Then he raised the knife high above his head. When he noticed the strange girl, the man called to his disciples:
"Attack!" Dalia went running through the woods trying to get back to where she had come from. Everything vanished. She had no choice but to run the other way toward the masked men.
"What did they want?" Dalia wondered. "Did they want to do to me what they did to the goat?" Dalia shuddered. Dalia found herself surrounded. She juked them out, racing past, which would be attacking the horde. Their angry shouts sounded behind her. So Dalia ran. Her powerful legs churned up and down like the pistons on a truck. The shouting and cursing behind her grew fainter the further away she got from it all. Next, Dalia happened upon a cabin. She knocked on the door.
"Who's out there?" a man called out.
"My name is Dalia Becker; I am lost and looking for shelter."
A white haired man opened the door. He wore black pants and a black shirt with a white collar. The man even wore dark sunglasses.
"My name is Judas," the man said. "Do come in." Judas ushered Dalia inside. He shut the door behind her. The smell of a thick, meaty stew wafted through the cabin.
"What are you running from as a child?" asked Judas.
"There's a freaky bunch of masked weirdos trying to kill me," said Dalia.
"You must have interrupted their blood-letting rituals," Judas replied.
"They would not have been able to hurt you." Dalia frowned.
"Why not?"
"Isn't it obvious?" asked Judas. "Because you're already dead."
"Is there any way I can go back?" Dalia asked.
"You're what's known as a wandering spirit," Judas began. "You have the potential to move on to the afterlife or be called back to Earth. If I were you, I'd find the door of judgment."
"Where and what is that?" Dalia asked.
"It's the door all spirits must go through to decide their fate," Judas said.
"Where is this door of judgment?" Dalia questioned.
"Keep moving forward," he said. "Would you care for some stew?"
Dalia's stomach roared with a beast's hunger.
"Yes," I'm starving!"
Judas ladled up two bowls of the stuff, and the prophet and the college girl ate together.
"Something just occurred to me," responded Dalia. "If I'm dead, why am I still hungry?"
"Again, you are a wandering spirit. Your body is still accustomed to the way it was on Earth."
Judas explained. "These feelings of Earthly want shall vanish after you pass through the door of judgment." Fatigue soon overtook Dalia.
"You may stay here for the night," Judas offered. She slept well on a cot. When she arose the next morning, she continued on her journey. She walked for what seemed like an hour or so before coming upon the door of judgment. It was an ivory door with a crystal doorknob. She gripped the handle, turned the knob, and then hesitated.
"Do I really want to do this?" Dalia wondered. "What choice do I have?"
She took a long pause, breathed in, and opened the door. Immediately, she dropped straight down. Darkness enveloped her. Further, er she plunged. What would happen when she hit the bottom? Would she keep falling forever? She had no idea of the answer to any of these things. Dalia was just the slain spirit of a late teen suicide. Dalia continued her descent.
She landed in a pool of water, or it was more like a pit with some water in it. The water began burbling. A sound ripped through the pit, a ghastly roar. A slithering tentacle grabbed Dalia by the ankle and jerked her under the water. She struggled and kicked, but still further she sank. She felt like her lungs would bust or her ears pop. As if all the water would be sucked down the drain in a tub, she descended a slide and landed in the underworld.
A lake of fire bubbled, and a hooded ferryman beckoned for her to get on the boat. Reluctantly, she agreed. Dalia climbed into the boat the ferryman paddled them across the lake of fire. The air smelled of sulfa.
"Who are you?" asked Dalia.
The ferryman said nothing. Smelling smoke, his gray robe was covered in soot. He made his way across the lake of fire; they made it to the other side. Dalia got out of the boat with the assistance of the ferryman. When she climbed up the hill, Dalia's mouth dropped open. She saw the sight of the underworld. Two giant creatures, humpbacked, with forked tongues, and falcons paced back and forth.
A man crawled on his belly. He tried to get away from the damned vultures circling overhead. The wails of panic and despair, along with cries of woe, filled the underworld. The man had no legs, only a mangled chest and bloody stumps where his legs had been. He left a trail of blood behind him as he dragged himself across the ground. A vulture clawed at his face.
"Go away!" the man screamed. The bird of prey continued his assault. Dalia continued along her journey. A giant ape man tossed souls off a cliff; they landed in the lake of fire. They all screamed on the way down, pleading to God, begging for mercy. She stared in horror. She crossed the bridge with it swaying as she walked.
Halfway across the bridge, Dalia saw a man she thought she knew. He was dressed in black; he looked badly burned. The man waved and called out to Dalia. She squinted to see who it was, although it was still too fuzzy to figure out who was calling her. So she pressed onward. He shuffled toward her. When Dalia was able to make out who the man calling her was, she gasped!
Chapter 9
The monitors beeped and booped. Lucille sat in a chair next to a hospital bed. Bob stood next to his daughter Dalia, clutching her hand. He sang a song he had not sung to her since she was a small child. Bob leaned over his daughter and whispered.
"Wake up!" Then he looked up to the Heavens and whispered again.
"If you need somebody to call home, take me. Leave her here. We need her here."
Bob stepped out of the room, and Flo entered the hospital room. Her eyes were pink and puffy. She looked slightly dazed. Flo squeezed Lucille's hand.
"Baby, we'll get through this," she whispered to Lucille. Flo walked over to the bed. She bent over and kissed Dalia on the cheek. She knew it was coming, Flo did; the mom was about to break down.
Chapter 10
"Alex," Dalia exclaimed. "Go away!"
"You have every right to be angry with me," Alex said. "My son is not here. That means he is still on Earth and searching for a new vessel to be reborn into. I want to personally drag my son to this pit of suffering myself." At that time, Dalia found herself being sucked backwards. She was pulled back into her own body. Dalia opened her eyes and shot up in bed. Lucille and Flo hugged Dalia; then Lucille hurried from the room to allow her dad inside.
Chapter 11
One month later, Professor Moss was sentenced to twenty years for kidnapping Dalia. Eight months after that, Dalia gave birth to a baby boy named Paul.
"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" Dalia asked her sister.
"Yeah," Lucille said. "He really is."
Chapter 12
It was now three years later. The gymnasium was crammed with people. The announcement came: it was Dalia and then Lucille walking across the stage. They were carrying their diplomas in their hands. Paul, who was now age three, sat in his grandmother's lap. Bob sat next to Flo. The graduation ceremony ended. They all met at a restaurant called Stan's. Paul ate corn on the cob while the grown-ups discussed the future.
"I've been asked to fly to New York," Lucille announced.
"That's wonderful," Flo said.
"Remarkable," Bob chimed in.
"I've taken a job at the high school," Dalia revealed. "Coaching the freshman basketball team at a local high school in Oregon. Aunt Joy has agreed to babysit.
"Sounds great," Bob said while wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulder.
"Don't we have great kids? You both are living the dream."
"Yeah," Dalia muttered while eyeing Paul. "Living the dream."
It was later in the year, and Aunt Joy was babysitting Paul; he was in his room playing with his blocks. She walked by his bedroom, stuck her head in, and observed the young boy. She entered the room and walked up behind Paul to get a closer look at what he was up to. The blocks spelled
"He's back!" Aunt Joy looked at little Paul. The child looked up at his babysitter and said:
"Kenny."
"Who's Kenny?" Aunt Joy asked.
"He's me," Paul answered.
"What do you mean?" Aunt Joy cocked her head to the side slightly.
"I used to be my Daddy and hurt Mommy. Now I'm the baby," Paul answered. Aunt Joy tried her best to ignore the ramblings of a three-year-old. When she returned home from work, Aunt Joy filled Dalia in on what had transpired between her and Paul. Suddenly, a chill ran up her spine. She remembers Polomo saying something about the rebirth of Kenny.
Luckily, Lucille had saved that knife and given it to Dalia. In f thet, the blade of Divinity sat in the nightstand by her bed. She remembered plunging the blade into her own chest. Had what Dalia had once feared actually happened? Has Kenny really been reborn as her son?!
"I wouldn't worry about it," Dalia tried playing down the situation.
"We all know that kids say some wild things.
"Your supper's warming on the stove, stated Aunt Joy.
"Thanks so much," Dalia said. "Care to join me for dinner?"
"That would be nice," answered Aunt Joy. All three people: Dalia, Aunt Joy, and Paul sat at the kitchen table. Aunt Joy would periodically study the child. She really was not sure what to think of this child. On teltelevisiononce Aunt Joy had watched a documentary on past life regressions.
"How was work?" Aunt Joy asked.
"It was alright," Dalia said with a shrug.
Paul started humming a tune. He sort of looked all around and finally looked up. Paul settled on a spot on the ceiling; he was seemingly transfixed on some invisible force. He nodded his head twice, then shook it once.
"What are you looking at?" Dalia asked, eyeing her son.
"Nothing," Paul shrugged. "Just the man on the ceiling."
"There's no man on the ceiling," protested Dalia.
"You can't see him because he hides from you," Paul answered.
"Why would he dislike me?" Dalia asked.
Paul looked at his mother. "He says you know why," Paul told her.
Aunt Joy looked at Paul and then Dalia. Aunt Joy felt a knot form in her stomach. She pushed away her dinner plate. "Why is he so convinced of what he is saying?" Aunt Joy helped Dalia with the dishes after dinner.
"I want to say I appreciate your helping me out, watching Paul, cooking, and cleaning."
Dalia admitted.
"No problem," Aunt Joy said. "Happy to do it. Paul sure has an active imagination, doesn't he?"
"Most three-year-olds do," Dalia said back, growing slightly agitated.
"Do you still do the YouTube thing?" Aunt Joy asked.
"Not really," Dalia confessed. "I still get a check from YouTube every month, though. I'm saving the money for Paul's college fund.
"I wish I had your sense of responsibility at your age," Aunt Joy said.
"What were you like at my age?" Dalia asked.
"I was convinced I was going to be a guitarist. Only one problem," stated Aunt Joy.
"Which was?" Dalia asked.
"I sucked," Aunt Joy shrugged. "From age eighteen to twenty-four, I spent a lot of time in a purple haze. I was hitchhiking across the country, sleeping in vans, getting into bar fights, and sleeping with strange men in return for their kindness."
"What made you change your ways?" Dalia wondered.
"Being beaten, stripped naked, and abandoned roadside on a stretch of road about twenty-five miles from the nearest town," Aunt Joy said.
"That is an incredible story," Dalia admitted. "How'd you get home?"
"More hitchhiking," said Aunt Joy.
Up in his bedroom, Paul was coloring in his coloring book. A doll dressed in a green suit sat in a rocking chair, grinning at Paul. The rocking chair started swaying back and forth. Paul kept coloring. It started swaying back and forth a little faster. Paul took notice. Now the boy watched the doll intensely. The doll got up and began dancing around the room. Paul thought it was amusing. He put down his crayon and started clapping and dancing. The doll crashed to the floor.
Still, the doll remained motionless. Paul placed the doll back in his chair. Then he rocked the chair back and forth by hand. The doll had entertained him; he wanted to see the doll dance. Paul had wondered if he had made the doll move or not, or if there was another force acting upon the doll. Paul suspected something else was at work here.
The boy had good control over his magic. Paul tried to use his abilities to make the doll dance again, but something was blocking him. There had to be something wrong with the doll. He grabbed the doll, holding onto the lapels. His little nostrils flared.
Paul, while staring his toy in the eye, demanded:
"You dance!" The doll stared back. There was something familiar about this doll's eyes. Paul felt like he had known it, or known the person inside the doll, meaning from his old life. It reminded him of the man from the ceiling.
"Dad?" he thought. Then he threw the doll on the ground and started stomping on it. He knew his father had been a bad man. Paul knew he had been his own father, meaning the spirit inside him was Kenny. He also knew Kenny's father was Alex. Paul had heard stories about both of these bad men from his mother.
Next, Paul felt the Kenny spirit detach from his own spirit. He was unsure he even had his own soul apart from Kenny's. Paul vomited Kenny's soul into the doll's mouththehteddyldolldollecame to li and started punching itself. Next, Paul grabs a t-ball bat and smashes the doll's face. A bit of the doll's eye stared up at Paul.
Alex and Kenny were gone, and for the first time since he was on the Earth, Paul was himself. He had no magic power. He was just a normal and happy three-year-old!