"Did you pack my cello?"
""Lurch did." I say as I pack an unneeded typewritter, "why don't you use the laptop I got you to type your novel. Even the phone I bought for you can be used to write notes. This thing is cumbersome and fragile to transport."
"I refuse to become a slave to technology."
"But at least carry the phone. You know, to call in case your kidnapped or something."
She stared at me offended, "you walk past around 36 murders in your lifetime. What makes you believe I don't have countermeasures?"
"Fine, you do you. At least keep it on hand if I need to call you for something. Nevermore is basically a castle and I don't feel like walking to the woman's dorms to ask for answers to homework. Alright I'm off to pack what's left of my stuff."
Wednesday didn't even say goodnight. She was lost in her own world still bothered by being obligated to attend Nevermore and do the bidding of her parents.
I made it to my room and started packing ingredients for recipes. Thankfully I managed to source a blacksmith to make me a cauldron and it should be in my dorm by the time I arrive. I finished packing the last elements of my failed potions, I keep them to investigate possible uses. Now there was only one last thing to pack.
My mother's book, I should start calling it her gimoire with how much I use it. As I've grown accustomed to doing I start flipping the pages without much care for when I stop, afterall I know their contents. I wonder if I can find someone in Nevermore who could finally teach me a method to use this knowledge. I stopped blindly flipping through the pages when I found a page I hadn't seen before.
The potion was titled, Whisper. It involved the use of nightshades. I know enough by now that their use can be medical or cause hallucinations of untold horror. I read the description of the recipe.
"Delirium or helium, what alters the voice in the back of our heads? Eyes , lies , or mysterious, who can say what is seen in a dream isn't a reflection of a dark secret. Let's make believe of an idea we got stuck in our heads. Not even a priest , king, nor God can tell us a sin isn't justice when the reward is sweet and fills us with faith."
The writing wasn't my mother's, it was mine.
I Inspected the page a dozen times, how had I not come across it before. The esthetic of the hand writing was as if I imprinted it with force; wanting to keep it hidden, locked away. The ink, this ink, I know this ink, I don't have this ink. I heard groaning around me.
Twisting my back to look behind me I saw a burnt cabin, mother's cabin. The forest was dark, the atmosphere felt stale and the mist hanged around me, stagnate. It felt stuck in an unholy time. I heard a swaying behind me, a creaking going back and forth, back and forth. I dared not look behind me, I know the sight, the nightmare.
I heard a foot step, followed by another one and a whisper in my ear, "why have you left me hanging here dear. The fire has rescinded, I'm so cold up here dear. Won't you take me down from here."
"I did mother, I bought you a tombstone. I put you to rest." My voice trembled.
In her sweet voice and her pine cone scent that filled the air she spoke endearingly, "but you failed to rip their throats out like you said you would. You remember how they left your mother dear?" Mother's arms wrapped around me, "look my fingers dear."
I looked down at her arms, her fingers were twisted. Broken and black with maggots protruding, squirming around in rotten flesh. "Your dead mother."
Her arms retreated and the swaying behind returned, "I'm still here dearie, won't you look at your mother. Don't you love me?"
It didn't take courage to turn, but a betrayal of my body. My neck turned against my will despite me fighting internally to look away.
First my eyes looked at the ground, bits of her burnt legs laid there. Slowly I gazed upwards where I saw her trear scared face remaining the same as the day I found her, dead.
The creaking of her hanging body was all I could hear, "I'll get you down mother." I said, lacking conviction.
I traced the rope holding her to a tree were they tied the knot, a face was sticking out from the side of the tree. It was staring at me. It's face was gray and pale, the same tone as a corpse. A large grin spread from ear to ear, its yellow rotted teeth amounted to more than fifty.
It's eyes were wide and empty. My vision zoomed in on it as if I were getting closer without moving a step. It remained peeking at me, its eyes widened with every inch I got closer. Five meters away from it and drool started falling from it's mouth. A meter away from it and a pair of hands came out gripping the tree with anticipation. It's fingers were long and hairy, unkempt nails traced the bark of the tree leaving scars upon it.
An inch away from it's face, my vision finally stopped zooming in on it. I stared at it never blinking out of fear of what I'll see if I closed them. A moaning began coming from it's unseen throat. It continued staring at me, it wears my face.
We never stopped looking at one another, its moaning turned into wailing. It desperately wanted someone. Some how I felt its hands move outside my gaze, followed by a thud, mother's corpse. My vision started turning from it to my mother. I fought with all my will to keep my gaze on it. Every inch I turned its wailing changed to a groan of joy. Louder and louder it grew with every inch.
It's eagerness shined in its large eyes filled with a deep void of sadistic pleasure. I placed all my focus on it as the last bits of its eyes faded from the corner of my eyes. My gaze was now on mother, who was standing on ripped flesh.
She was staring at something behind me, never turning her gaze to me, "my sweet dear, you ripped those nasty legs from them and gifted mama their throats. What a sweet boy you've grown to be. Now let's not play with our food. Mama is hungry, aren't you hungry dearie?"
Her burnt flesh she called a face looked down at me, "I've left you one last gift." A ragged breath appeared in my ear with a gurgling sound of meat being chewed upon.
"Elliott hurry up, Lurch started the car. You'll have to eat breakfast on the way there."
I heard a bang and looked down at my hands, I had closed my mother's book.
"Elliott?"
I turned to the person at the door, "hey Pugsley, good morning! I was just finishing packing. Had a wonderful dream about fishing with you. Come on then, we can talk about it on the way to the car. What's for breakfast? I'm starving."
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Hello again author here. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know if I did a good job at writing the horror factor in it. Also can you please donate some power stones. Thanks for reading and take care.