Category: literature promotion

‘Fungus,’ a Horror Short Story

Gus Ripley, 21, known to his friends as ‘Fun Gus,” was driving home late one night after leaving a party full of drinking, dancing, and drugs. He was driving on a lonely road with hilly forests on either side; most of the drive between where the rave was and his home would be such a road—largely without other cars, so he figured he’d be safe, in spite of his driving under the influence.

Indeed, his car swayed left to right, but mostly he stayed in his lane. He was coming down from a half-pill of ecstasy and a line of ketamine, and feeling really good.

Early on in the party, before he’d drunk much or done any drugs, he was in a small room, alone with a twenty-year-old named Jenny Spelling. She was pretty, with long, wavy auburn hair, green eyes, a curvy figure and nice tits. He had a lot of fun, Fun Gus did, with her in that room. 

Without the roofie he’d put in her drink, though, she’d have realized he was the only one having any fun in that room. 

Suddenly, his car swerved unusually far to the right, and it went off the road and crashed into a tree. He wasn’t at all hurt, but he was still too stoned to make sense of what happened. He got out of his car, leaving his cellphone there, and staggered into the dark woods.

Did my high make me swerve like that? he wondered as he stumbled through the brush. It didn’t feel like it was me who did that. It felt as if someone else took control of the steering wheel, but that’s preposterous. I’m so wasted, I don’t know what I’m doing…or where I’m going…or why I’m going where I’m going.

He continued walking through the woods, between bushes, snapping twigs and tripping over rocks and branches lying on the ground, still too disoriented to know what he was doing. After another ten minutes or so of this aimless wandering, he was surprised to find himself hungry.

Well, I haven’t eaten since before I went to the party, which was hours ago, he thought. So it makes sense that I’d be hungry by now…but where am I?

He stopped and looked around in the dimness of trees and bushes, with only an ever-so-slight amount of morning sunlight peeking over the hills way up ahead. Though still a little stoned, he found his eyes adjusted to the dark; he looked down at the dirt by a tree trunk, and he saw a brightly-coloured mushroom.

Hey, I like mushrooms, he thought as he bent down to reach for it. I like them on pizza, at least. And who knows? Maybe I’ll revive my high with this one.

He ripped it out of the ground, wiped the dirt off the bottom as best he could, then bit off the cap and the upper half of the stem. It tasted awful, like the worst-tasting medicine, but he kept chewing—him wincing the whole time—and finally he swallowed it, hoping it would satisfy his hunger and give him a bit of a high. 

He got up and continued on his pointless trek through the woods and up the hill to where the light was peeking over the horizon. He was a little less hungry, but only a little less. He saw another brightly-coloured mushroom, ripped it out of the ground, wiped off the dirt, and ate it, wincing as he chewed.

Upon swallowing it, he saw everything around him glowing and vibrating.

“Whoa!” Gus said to himself as he felt the buzz kick in. This is going to be one hell of a trip, he thought.

He kept ascending the hill he was on. The trees all around him were getting blurrier as the morning light was increasing. Everywhere he saw waves, as if he were underwater, seeing a blurry forest above the watery surface.

Those blurry trees were getting brighter, glowing with the growing sunlight that surrounded each, and giving each vivid colours. He felt as if he were entering a cartoon.

I’ve never had a high this intense, he thought. Not on shrooms, not on E, not on K. This is beyond any drug.

He took a few more steps up the hill, blinked a few times, then opened his eyes wide. No longer did he see waves or vibrations of everything. The sky was yellow, the ground, a vivid green, and instead of trees, he saw…

Mushrooms.

Giant mushrooms. 

Instead of leaves on trees, he saw bell-shaped mushroom caps, all polka-dotted. The dots were either a bright yellow, or orange, or light green, against backgrounds of bright pink, purple, blue, or red. Under the caps, he saw thin gills of brown or gray against backgrounds of white. The stems of each giant mushroom were also white, instead of the brown tree trunks he’d seen up until now.

“This is more than just a drug trip,” he whispered to himself, then thought, What drug trip ever gives off hallucinations like these? Didn’t Jenny say her older sister was a witch, or something? No, don’t be ridiculous, Gus. Her sister’s probably just a Wiccan or something. Besides, I don’t believe in God or magic. I’ve just never been this high before, that’s all.

He felt another hunger pang, and felt tempted to intensify his mushroom trip all the more; so he walked over to the nearest ‘mushroom tree,’ if you will, and reached up for its polka-dot cap. He pulled it down, opened his mouth wide, and bit off a great big chunk of the edge of the cap.

He chewed and chewed on it, hating the taste but waiting in hope for the heightened buzz. After swallowing it, he reeled and staggered a bit, closing his eyes in reaction to a brief dizzy spell. He opened his eyes to see more bright, glowing, and vividly colourful light, and more undulating of everything. A buzzing sensation went throughout his body.

“Oh, that feels good!” he sighed, smiling with closed eyes. Then he opened them and looked at his arms. “What the hell?…”

He saw three small mushrooms growing on his forearms, two on the left and one on the right. Then he saw five more growing on his arms, two on his left upper arm, and three on his right forearm. They were all the peach colour of his skin.

“Oh, my God!” he hissed, then grabbed at one of the ones on his right arm. He ripped it off with a forceful pull, causing his blood to spray everywhere, as well as a sharp, stinging pain. “Oww!” he screamed.

He fell on his knees to the vivid green ground, having cupped the wound with his hand in an attempt to control the bleeding. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut.

After a dozen seconds or so, he opened his eyes. The pain was gone. So was the bleeding. He seemed to be standing again. He didn’t see his arms anywhere. Strangest of all, he saw half a dozen naked young women, including Jenny, all kneeling in front of him, grinning. 

All of them have such nice bodies, he thought as he looked them all over. All except that fat one in the back. Eww! Get dressed, you pig!

Then he realized that the faces of all the girls, all except the overweight one, looked familiar.  Where had he known them? That was it! He had known them!

Hey, wait a minute, he thought. I put roofies in all their drinks over the past year, the five good-looking girls, that is. And now they’re in my drug trip? If this even is a drug trip. Are they mad at me for taking advantage of them? I should say something to them…

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t even open his mouth.

Because he no longer had one.

What the hell? he thought. I can’t talk!

He looked down and all around himself. No arms, no legs.

Oh, my God! he thought. No!

All he saw below was a large…stem…instead of a torso.

No clothes. He was as naked as the girls were.

Except that he had no human body, except for his eyes.

The girls were talking and laughing, as he could see, but he couldn’t hear anything! Did he no longer have ears? He didn’t feel any on his head…if what he had even was a head. 

He did some lip-reading. They were saying, “Fun Gus,” over and over again, with those eerie grins.

His head felt strange, different. He felt no hair on it. And it felt…large, heavy.

He looked up and saw the underside of a huge mushroom cap, just like those giant, tree-like ones he’d seen before this scene with the girls. He saw light-brown gills radiating from the top of the stem, just above his eyes, out to the edge of the cap. He’d been turned into a human-sized mushroom!

The girls weren’t saying, “Fun Gus ,” they were saying, “fungus.”

He looked at Jenny’s face and that of the fat girl, noting the similarity. Jenny was chatting with…her sister? He looked down at the floor and saw a circle surrounding a pentacle. Candles were burning along the periphery of the circle. His eyes widened in terror. Now he knew.

This was no drug trip.

He felt his eyesight beginning to fade, but not before he saw all the girls coming up close to him, with wide-open mouths and bared teeth.

Everything went black.

His eyes had dissolved.

All that was left of Gus was his passive, dreamlike consciousness.

Rather like a young woman on roofies.

Then the biting began.

Six pairs of teeth were cutting into his head…his cap, rather. The pain was sharp and stinging. He could do nothing about it. He couldn’t fidget or struggle to get the girls off of him. He couldn’t even scream.

Rather like a young woman on roofies.

He started feeling bites on his lower body…his stem, rather. One large, particularly painful, bite came on the side of the stem where his eyes had been, level with where his genitals had once been. It seemed like a castration, but his having been turned into a man-sized mushroom meant he’d already lost his manhood.

The biting continued, all over, each bite hurting just as badly as those before.

His consciousness—his life—was fading, but not enough to mitigate the sharp sting of each new bite.

His only relief came from having less and less of a body to bite from. Finally, the top centre of the cap, where his brain once was, got torn into by a rampage of bites, and consciousness faded to black nothingness.

*******************

Police searching for the owner of the crashed car found a bloody corpse, little more than a skeleton, lying on the grassy, tree-covered hill. What little flesh was left showed bite marks.

Human bite marks.

“Who could have done this?” A cop asked with agape eyes. “Starving people living in the woods, resorting to cannibalism?”

‘Mama,’ a Psychological Horror Novel, Chapter Ten

Several weeks have gone by with me in this…mental hospital, and I have been cooperating with Dr. Sweeney, Aunt Jane, and…my…father, in the hopes that they’ll let me out of here soon enough. Even in my private thoughts, I’m trying to approximate the perception of reality they’re all imposing on me, all of them working for a certain…spirit, in the hopes that she, too, will be fooled. Then I can be freed of all of them.

My subterfuge seems to be working. Sweeney and the staff are pleased with my cooperation and lack of belligerence. I haven’t worn the straitjacket since it had been taken off me; I’m not even in the padded cell anymore. I’m in quite a pleasant-looking, well-furnished room.

They’re letting me take walks outside, where there are trees, there’s grass, and even a pond with ducks I can feed, as long as my…father…accompanies me and I chat with him. I’m going along with all of it; I’m being patient about it. I even smile and call him…Dad…without wincing. I actually entertain the thought of him being my dad in my thoughts, not only to fool that…spirit, but also to test the waters, as it were–to see if I like it.

Not really.

Dad is so lame.

I want a heroic father, not this loser.

Still, I must keep up appearances, even in my thoughts.

After all, it’s quite possible that I’m succeeding in keeping…her…at bay. I haven’t seen anything blatantly surreal over these past few weeks, and I see flames only in the distant horizon when I go outside with…Dad. The…ghost…isn’t fucking with my head as a reward, I surmise, for cooperating with the others.

Still, something’s going to happen, some fresh trap to be sprung on me while I’m here, so I have to be careful and hope I get discharged as soon as possible.

Then I can find my chance to break free and run from them all.

Oh, here he comes–Dr. Sweeney. Time to act like a good little patient. Cue my fake smile.

“Good morning, Roger,” he says with a fake smile of his own.

“Good morning,” I say.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks.

“Oh, fine,” I say. “I had a really good sleep last night.”

“Good. I trust you’re still enjoying your walks with your father, then? You’ve fully accepted that he is your father, haven’t you?”

“Fully.” My acting is so good, I’d fool myself.

“I’m happy to hear that, Roger. In fact, I have some good news for you.”

“Oh?” I’m trying hard to suppress my anticipation of what he’s about to say. If I overreact to what I think he’ll say, I might be exposed as faking my recovery.

“I think you’re well enough to be released from here.”

“Really? Are you sure I’m well enough? This could be premature. I might have a relapse.”

“Well, if so, you know where you’ll return,” he says while writing something down on his notepad. “In any case, I’m confident that you’ve made sufficient progress, to the point where you can be put under the care of your aunt and father. They’ll report back to me on your continuing progress, or any problems you have, and we’ll react accordingly here.”

“Oh, very well, then, Doctor,” I’m still restraining my enthusiasm. “When will I be released?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, OK.”

****************

Now, it’s the early afternoon of the next day, just after lunch, and I’m getting ready to be taken out of here. I’m bracing myself, taking deep breaths, and trying to stay calm. I’m thinking over how I can find an opportunity to break free of my aunt and…father, how to know when it will be safe to do so.

I don’t want to wait until I get home, whether that home is mine, my aunt’s, or…his. Firstly, will either of them be watching me, or having someone watch me, 24/7, so I can’t get away any better than here in this nut house? Secondly, I’m so eager to get away from them that I simply can’t wait any longer. It’s a foolish risk I’ll be taking, but I’ve run out of patience.

Ah, there’s my door being opened!

There they are, the shrink, my aunt, and…him.

“OK, Roger,” Sweeney says. “You’re all set to go.”

“Come on home, Son,” says my…dad, smiling.

“All the paperwork’s been signed, so we can just go,” Aunt Jane says, also smiling.

“OK,” I say, getting up with a sincere smile of my own, and I leave the room with them.

As we’re walking through the front doors, and I can see the streets and buildings out there (as well as the blazing fires all along the city’s horizon), Dr. Sweeney stops me for a moment.

“Now, remember, Roger,” he says in a kind, avuncular attitude. “Your father may not be the great hero you’d always fantasized of him as being, but he’s a good man, and that’s enough. You, too, are good enough, and that’s all you and he need to be, OK?”

“OK,” I say. “And thank you, Doctor, for all your help.”

We all say goodbye to him and walk out of the hospital and on the sidewalk surrounding it, my aunt to my left, and my ‘dad’ to my right. There’s a nearby parking lot, on the other side of the street, that we’re approaching.

My mind is racing, and my eyes are darting all over the place, looking for an opportunity to escape.

I find just such an opportunity.

I see a man parking and getting off of his motorcycle. His keys are still in it, and he’s a short run from where I am. My aunt and…he…are looking away, distracted. Lucky for me.

I suddenly break into a sprint for that bike.

“Roger!” Aunt Jane shouts.

“What are you doing?” he shouts.

I reach the bike, shove the rider to the pavement, and get on it. The keys are still in the ignition switch. I kickstart the bike.

“Hey!” he shouts. “What the fuck you doin’?”

“What does it look like?” I say, then ride off.

“Asshole!” he shouts. “Stop! Thief!”

“Roger!” my aunt and ‘dad’ shout several times.

As I’m distancing myself from them, surprising myself at how well I’m riding the motorcycle without any crashes or much of any obstacles on the road slowing me down, I see the flames quickly return all around me, burning every building in sight. I’m also seeing those giant, brightly-coloured, polka-dotted mushrooms again.

Yes, Mama’s back to her old tricks. But that’s no matter: I’m now free to go back to trying to stop her from destroying the world. My chance to be a hero has returned.

Bridges

Since rivers of bitterness separate ourselves from others,
bridges
must be
built to
link us together. Our words, then, can walk back and forth

above all that water, and not let our words get cold feet.
Bridges,
made of
empathy,
can then replace bitter thoughts with compassion and love.

Remaining here, not looking over there, past troubled water,
.
.
.
makes lonely and desolate banks of grass on either side.

While trolls may be hiding beneath bridges, our big, gruff friends,
ramming
them out
of the way,
can make walks from one side to the other less painful for us.

‘Mama,’ a Psychological Horror Novel, Chapter Nine

I feel myself coming out of a daze, a waking-up from what has felt like a dark sleep, the darkness slowly beginning a glow into brighter and brighter light. I’m looking around, my eyes focusing.

What is this place I’ve been taken to? I’m still surrounded in fire, but the fire has become so bright, it’s almost white. I’m still not burning, though it’s very warm all around me. I see walls of near-white fire surrounding me…imprisoning me.

Because I was resisting my persecutors–that man and my aunt, who’s still possessed by Mama’s ghost, no doubt–resisting them with all of my strength, they found me so violent that I can see they’ve put me in a straitjacket. What I don’t have on my person anymore are my amulet and sachet!

My resistance was at its most violent when they were taking those things from me. The last thing I remember was someone sticking a needle in my arm as I saw them take away my amulet and sachet, and I was screaming…then everything slowly faded to black as my struggles grew weaker and weaker.

No longer at home with my magic circle or witch bottle to protect me, I feel completely naked, as it were, totally exposed to Mama’s magic! What am I going to do without any protection?

What were those magical formulas that I used to chant, to ward off her evil spells and apparitions? I’ve gone and forgotten them; in my stress and disorientation from the drug they put in my arm, I find myself unable to utter even one syllable of the ancient, mystical languages. Mama can do anything she wants to me, and I can’t stop her! She schemed to put me in this position, and now she has me right where she wants me. I’m as good as dead.

After I die, after she kills me, I’ll be in hell with her (I already am in hell here, but I’ll be even closer to her when I’m dead in body), and then she can really torture me…forever!

Let’s face it: I’ve already passed the entrance where the sign says, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

What’s this? Somebody’s coming into the room…if that’s what this fiery-walled, white room can be called, this prison cell of mine.

Oh, God! It’s that man, the one who calls himself my father, in the long white coat of a doctor. He thinks he’s going to treat me?

“Good afternoon, Roger,” he says to me with a phony smile. “How are you feeling now?”

“How do you think, Father?” I growl sarcastically at him.

“You think I’m your father?” he asks with an incredulous look.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been claiming you are?” I ask. “I assure you–you aren’t my father, and never will be.”

“I know that, Roger,” he says. “I’m your therapist. Your father and aunt are outside. They are hoping I can help you. You’ve been under sedation for several hours now. Now that the drugs are wearing off, they could be still affecting your hallucinations. I guess that’s why you’re seeing your father’s face instead of mine.”

I blink a few times and look at his face again. No, he isn’t that man. He looks quite similar, but he isn’t him.

“My name is Doctor Sweeney,” he says. “Feel free to talk to me about anything you like. Don’t censor yourself.”

“I’d rather not talk to you at all,” I say, still frowning at him.

“Why is that, Roger?”

I look around at the fiery, white walls, which look rather soft now–cushiony, even. This ‘doctor’ is no doubt part of Mama’s plan to get inside my head.

“Let’s just say that I don’t trust shrinks.”

“You’ve been mistreated by psychiatrists before?”

“I know who my aunt and that man are working for.”

He’s writing something down on a notepad. “And who is that, I’m curious to know?” he asks with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You know who,” I say with a scowl.

“Um, no, I’m afraid I don’t,” he says, still writing.

“Oh, yes, you do. You’re working for her, too, obviously.”

“For her?“

“Don’t play dumb with me, shrink.”

“I’m sorry, Roger, but I guess I am dumb. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why don’t you just tell me, then we can bring it out into the open and fully explore what’s troubling you?”

“Oh, right. Then you can call me crazy, lock me up in this inferno of a prison, and then Mama will get what she wants!”

“Mama? Is she who we’re working for?” he asks, still writing.

“Of course it’s her! Don’t you condescend me!”

“Didn’t your mother die a little while back?” he asks, writing really fast now. “Your aunt and father said she died…”

“HE’S NOT MY FATHER!!!”

“If you insist, though I do see a facial resemblance between you two.”

“You’re working for my mother, that’s why you say I look like him.”

“She is dead, though, isn’t she?” He’s still writing away.

“Of course she’d dead…in body, anyway.”

“So is she still alive in spirit? Is she a ghost?”

“Obviously!”

“Has her ghost appeared to you, telling you her plots against you?”

“I’ve seen her ghost, though she tells me little.”

“And why do you think she’s trying to persecute you?”

“Revenge.”

“For what?”

“Because I k…!” Oops. I’m quite silent now.

“Do you believe you…killed her?”

I’m still silent, looking down at my shoes.

“Your aunt and…that man say she died of a heart attack. You aren’t guilty of her murder, Roger. This guilt complex must be the basis of your delusions.”

“If I’m so non-violent, then can you please remove this straitjacket?”

“I’m afraid you might hurt yourself, and me.”

“Then I am of a violent nature, aren’t I? Violent enough to have killed her.”

“You have the potential to be, but you never killed…”

“We all have the potential to be violent, Doctor.”

“Am I being violent to you?”

“You’re depriving me of my freedom of movement, caging me in walls of white fire, binding my…”

“Walls of white fire?” Oh, he’s writing really fast now!

“Of course! Look around you! Are you blind?”

“No, but I must be having delusions myself, for all I see around us is a padded cell.”

“A padded cell? How cute.” Condescending bastard!

“Did your mother’s ghost surround us in white fire?”

“Of course she did! She’s a witch!”

That pen of his is moving like…crazy…now.

“Is that why you killed her? Did you use magic yourself to give her a heart attack?”

No courtroom would believe I killed her with magic, so I felt safe nodding at the shrink’s question.

“And now that she’s a spirit, I suppose she’s much freer to use her magic in a much more malignant way?”

“The fact that you can predict her freer use of magic on me proves that you are working for her,” I hiss at him. “But I can promise you this, shrink: I’ll find a way out of this prison. You’ll see!”

“M-hmm,” the shrink says in his usual smug manner. “What do you think your mother’s ghost is going to do to you, and to the world in general?”

“She’s destroying the global economy, she’s worsening global warming, as you can see all around us,…”

“Oh, yes, the burning padded cell.” He’s writing this all down, of course.

“…and the worsening of tensions between the West and China and Russia, leading to World War Three and nuclear annihilation.”

“Your mother’s ghost is causing all that? She must be one powerful witch.”

“Is condescension your preferred form of therapy, shrink?”

“No, getting all your thoughts out in the open, analyzing them, and learning where you got them from is my preferred method.”

“And where do you think I got my ideas from, Doctor? My tinfoil hat?”

“We’ll figure that out in time, Roger. For now, though, I’d like to observe you talking with your aunt and your f…, excuse me, that man.”

“Oh, God, no! Not him!”

“If he isn’t your father, why does he upset you so?”

“Because you all want me to believe he is!”

“How will believing he’s your father harm you?”

“It’s a lie of Mama’s, intended to lead me into a world of illusions!”

“Your hallucinations and delusions have already done that, Roger. I think you’re far more afraid of realizing that he really is your father. There’s something about him really being your father that you’d find devastating. We must explore this possibility, nonetheless, to get to the root of what is troubling you. I’ll be right back with him and your aunt.”

The shrink is getting up and walking towards the fiery white walls. I’m trembling in this straitjacket, rocking back and forth, trying desperately to hang on.

Oh, God, they’re coming in, emerging from the white fire!

Maybe I can incinerate myself by ramming into one of the fiery walls. Unh! I feel no burns from it, only a cushion pushing me back into the middle of the area. Mama won’t let me kill myself! She wants to torture me by forcing me to face this man!

He’s standing in front of me, looking at me with a fake look of concern for me. That shrink says he resembles me…wait! His face is being reshaped…to look exactly like mine! This is another of Mama’s tricks, for sure!

“Roger, please accept that I’m your father,” the impostor says. “Here’s a photo of your mom and me when we were dating. I had all my hair back then, but you should be able to see that it’s my face. Look!”

I’m looking at it, then looking back at him. His face is changing again: I’m seeing five eyes on it, three noses, and two mouths. Definitely not the face in the photo. Granted, the monstrous face I see on him is not his real face–something Mama is making me see–but it doesn’t prove he’s the man who dated Mama and got her pregnant.

All I can do is laugh at him. “It’s not you, old man.”

“Yes, it is,” he insists. “Deny it all you want, I am your old man. I’ll prove it further.”

He’s fumbling in his pockets for something. I’m sighing in exasperation. “My father died years ago!“

“No, he didn’t. He’s standing right here in front of you, Roger.” He takes out some paper and presents it to my reluctant eyes. “Here’s a document from a paternity test I did. Look at it! See my photo, and your name, and your mother’s name.” He’s pointing everything out for me.

“Forgeries!” I shout.

I get groans of frustration from him, my aunt, and the shrink.

“Roger, why is it so awful to you to believe that I’m your father?” that man asks. “Can’t you see how hurtful it is to me to be rejected by my own son? I know I left you before you were born, and I remained uninvolved in your life, and I’m sorry about that, truly sorry! But I want to make it up to you now. I wanna take care of you. I wanna help you get well. I can see now that the lack of a father in your life is, to a great extent at least, the cause of your sickness. I left your mother because I could see that there was something wrong with her, some kind of narcissism or psychopathy in her. It was a cowardly move on my part to have left you, and I’m sorry. Can’t your father get a second chance?”

“No,” I say with an icy look.

“Why not?” he screams.

“My father can’t get a second chance because my mother killed him. You’re right about her probably being narcissistic or psychopathic; but you left out one thing.”

“What’s that?” my aunt and the shrink ask together.

“My mother was a witch.”

More groans from all three of them. I’m unmoved.

“Look, Dr. Sweeney, could you at least remove the straitjacket?” the man asks. “Let’s give him some dignity. He isn’t normally violent. I’m sure we’ll be safe.”

With a sigh, the shrink says, “All right. I have orderlies just outside, who’ll come in at the drop of a hat the very second he begins acting up.”

“I’m sure he’ll be OK,” my aunt says. “He only got combative when we took those two silly things off of him, that necklace and sachet.”

“My only means of protection from Mama’s magic,” I growl as the shrink is taking off the straitjacket.

“Ridiculous,” my aunt says.

My arms are free at last. I’m still calm.

“See?” I tell the shrink. “I’m in control.”

“Please, Roger,” the man says with teary eyes. “Stop pushing me away. Let me be your father.”

“His ‘proof’ is faked,” I grunt through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you’re a fine one to judge the falsity of anything,” she says. “Will you ever acknowledge the falsity of your own delusions and hallucinations? You can’t see what’s wrong with what your eyes see and your ears hear, yet you’re so sure his photos and documentation are faked? He’s a nice man. OK, he left you and your mom, but he wants to make amends. Why can’t you just forgive him?”

My head is bent down, looking at my shoes again. I’m fighting back sobs. Tears are forming in my eyes.

“Your own mother told you he left you and her,” my aunt says. “Where’d you get this weird idea that she killed your father with witchcraft?”

“She lied to me,” I’m sobbing. “That witch was a liar!“

“Your very thoughts are lying to you,” my aunt says. “As soon as you come to accept that, you’ll begin to heal.”

“I abandoned you, Roger,” that man says. “I left you with a sick, disordered woman. I should never have done that. I was weak, irresponsible, and cowardly for doing that to you, and for that I am deeply sorry. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Now, I am bawling like a baby.

“Roger,…” he begins to say.

“No,” my aunt says, taking his arm. “Let’s leave him. Let him explore his thoughts a while, search his feelings. Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”

The two of them leave the room with the doctor. I’m no longer seeing white flames surrounding me. I really do see a padded cell, all white cushions for walls and the floor.

I’m still bawling my eyes out. Could it be true? Could that man really be my father? Did he abandon me, and leave me to the mercy of that horrible woman? Could he, my father, have been so unloving, so selfish, and so cruel? Could my father really have been so weak, so cowardly, so irresponsible, so contemptible?

My face is drowning in tears. My sobbing must be audible all over this…mental hospital. How embarrassing.

The idea I’ve had in my mind, that my father was a great man, murdered by my treacherous mother…is it just me kidding myself? Am I really so worthless as to be the offspring of such a feckless coward and a scheming bitch? Oh, that’s even worse, much worse!

No! This whole thing is a lie! That man is not my father! Surely, I come from better stock than that! Mama’s ghost tried to trick me there, to provoke my tears, but that was just a temporary weakness in me! This was all part of her plan to deceive me further!

I see that the white flames have returned. Mama is using them to trick me into thinking I’m deceiving myself again.

Still, I’ll go along with her plan. I’ll pretend I’ve accepted that man, even in my private thoughts. Then my conspirators will relax their hold on me, and I can figure out a way to escape this fiery prison.

And then, maybe, I’ll learn some more magic to stop Mama, and to save the world from the fiery hell of war she wants to impose on it.

Luciana

Now
as you
walk up
these steps
to your so new
resting place, do
remember us down
here on Earth who loved
you, learned from you, laughed
at your witty barbs on the sad state
of our world down here, and felt your caring
for the downtrodden. We will never forget you, for
your absence down here is a black void we’ll never fill
with another comrade so great as you were. I don’t believe
in heaven, nor do many of us, your friends, but your loss is enough
to make us all wish for a heaven, since your not being here anymore makes
our Earth more of a hell. May you find peace where, without contradiction, no matter
if the place is above or below, a state of mind, or a void of nirvana, that is still a heaven.

‘Mama,’ a Psychological Horror Novel, Chapter Eight

I haven’t slept a wink all night. Though Mama’s ghost hasn’t penetrated my magic circle of protection, not even once, I’m still disturbed by what I saw in the mirror. I’ve just been lying here on the living room floor with my blanket and pillow, looking out the window, and seeing that glowing fire augmenting the light of the rising morning sun, the glow getting brighter and brighter, however slowly. The fire is coming closer to my apartment–I’m sure of it.

Somehow, Mama tricked me into doing a spell that has put me in Hell instead of her. She’s telling me that I’m my own worst enemy, rather than her. Such an idea is, of course, nonsense: she has always been, and always will be, my worst enemy. All my life, she tried to make me think that my problems have all been of my own creation, rather than a product of her scheming; this current problem was her tricking me into bringing the Hell of her presence ever closer to me.

I’ve gotta get something to eat. I’ll fix myself some cereal in the kitchen. As I pass the mirror, I just see myself, not her. Still, that fire outside is getting closer. In the kitchen now, I can see the glow of it in the window. I’ll go closer and get a better look at it.

Yes, I can see genuine fire burning some of the buildings in the distance! Mama isn’t here, in my zone of protection, but she’s coming to get me, for sure!

I’m pouring the cereal in my bowl, and it all looks okay. The milk I’m pouring into it also looks okay. Her ghost isn’t here with me, but she’s coming.

I’m eating it–it doesn’t taste strange or awful. At least I can satisfy my hunger with no problems…for now, that is.

Now that I’ve finished my cereal with no problems, I’ll go back into the living room and take a look out the large window leading out to the balcony to see how the fire looks out there…Oh, my God!

I see a fire all the way across the horizon, from the far left to the far right. I see it burning buildings in the distance, just as I saw through the kitchen window. It’s coming here slowly, but it’s surely coming–no doubt of it.

There’s no way I’m going to work today.

There’s no way I’m setting foot outside at all.

I’m sure that fire is surrounding my apartment and the city in general. I won’t be able to escape the city, so I’m staying here. I’ll burn to death here, but I’ll burn to death even sooner out there. I choose to stay alive as long as I can, in the hopes of thinking of something I can do to stop Mama’s ghost.

Maybe there’s a magical ritual I can find online that can reverse the spread of that fire. I’ll turn on my laptop and take a look. My WiFi is okay; the approaching Hell hasn’t de-activated it. I’ll have to rely on this instead of the library from now on.

I’ll just type something in the search engine…’how to get out of an inferno’…wait! What’s this here?

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Why am I seeing a Dante quote instead of practical advice for how to stop this fire? This must be Mama’s doing!

I see the fire through the window again. My eyes are wandering back to the mirror.

Mama’s in the reflection again, sitting where I should be seeing myself.

******************

I’ve stayed here at home for the past three days now. I can’t find any useful spells online; Mama’s ghost is preventing me from finding anything useful. Aunt Jane keeps trying to call me on my cellphone, which I’ve switched off. I’ve unplugged my landline, too. I won’t answer her emails to me on my laptop.

Why should she care if I’m not at work? It’s not like she needs me there to deal with an excess of customers. The economy is so bad that virtually nobody is going to Pet Valu to buy anything. My last day working there, before I got those verses from the library: how many people did I see come into the store to look around, let alone buy anything? You could count the total number of people on the fingers of one hand and still have a couple fingers to spare.

People especially won’t go there today, with the huge fire raging outside. I’m amazed it hasn’t reached my apartment yet: I just see a wall of orange flames blazing outside through the window.

The online newspapers I’ve been reading are still reporting on the downward spiral of the economy, with so many people losing their jobs. I’ve essentially lost mine, though I’m not regretting it.

The news is also discussing the escalating tensions between the US and NATO on one side and Russia, China, Iran, and now a number of African countries on the other. World War Three is coming for sure, if it hasn’t already. Maybe that’s what’s caused the fire outside–a conventional bombing, if not an outright nuclear attack, that the news doesn’t want to report, for fear of causing a panic.

Whatever is going on, I know that Mama’s ghost is behind it all! She’s sinking the economy, destroying the environment with global warming and wildfires, bringing a nuclear armageddon on us all, bringing Hell to Earth…all to spite me for using my protective magic against her. She’s relentless in her wish to torment me!

Hey, what’s this? Another email from Aunt Jane.

Oh, shit! It says, “We’re coming over,” in the email’s title.

We? Who’s coming with her? I’ll have to read it after all…No! Not that man!

Oh, please, no! I don’t wanna have to see or talk to him! Again, this is Mama’s ghost’s doing! She’s using Aunt Jane, possessing her body, to help torment me!

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! on the door. Oh, that made me jump!

DING, DONG! rings the doorbell.

“Go away!” I shout at whoever’s out there.

“Let us in, Roger!” the unmistakable voice of my aunt bellows from the other side of the door.

“I’ll never unlock the door for you and that man!”

“We figured you wouldn’t,” she says. “That’s why we got the landlord to bring his key!”

“Oh, no!” I say as I hear the key go in the lock. Mama’s ghost is bringing Hell into my home!

The door swings open, banging against the wall.

I scream at the top of my lungs, making my aunt and…that man…plug their ears with their hands as they enter. I see another hand, from an arm in a white T-shirt, pull the key out of the lock and disappear; I hear his footsteps walking away.

“What is the matter with you, Roger, screaming like that?” she says as the two of them approach me. “What a mess he looks like, with his hair sticking up like that, and the wildness in his eyes! We’ve got to get him to a psychiatrist,” she says to…that man.

It’s only the two of them–no landlord, whom I’ve never met, since Mama always dealt with him alone…unless, of course, that man is the landlord!

Yes, that’s it! This man, who’s always claiming to be my father, is the landlord! He’s come to evict me for not working and making money to pay this month’s rent. He and my aunt are grabbing me, taking me…to jail?

“Come on, Roger,” she’s saying as she and that landlord are pulling me up on my feet. “We’re taking you to a hospital. I should have done this with you right after your mother’s funeral.”

“Hospital, nonsense!” I shout as I’m struggling to break free of them, dragging my feet on the floor to stop them from dragging me outside. “You’re helping…the landlord here…throw me out…on the street!”

“Landlord?” he says, holding my left arm tightly. “Roger, I’m your father! I just want to be reunited with you, but you’re obviously unwell, and we need to get you to a doctor.”

“Liar!” I spit back at him as they’re getting me through the doorway and out into to the hall. “You’re both…working for…Mama’s ghost! She possessing…both of you!”

“The only one who’s…possessed…is you, Roger,” my aunt says in grunts as she’s struggling to get me to the elevator. “Mr. Morse, can you help us, please?”

“Of course,” a man in a white T-shirt and white pants says, obviously a man from the asylum they want to lock me up in. “Here I come. C’mon, Roger. We’re gonna take you somewhere nice and quiet, nice and peaceful.”

“Quiet?! Peaceful?!” I shout, hooking my feet outside the elevator entrance to stop them from getting me in. “You’re taking me…out into…the fires of Hell! Aaah!”

“What a nutcase,” some woman behind me says. I’ve been shoved into the elevator. We’re going down.

The landlord must be evicting me because the fire outside has burned down the bank where Mama’s money was held. The money’s destroyed, so I can’t pay the rent anymore. Mama destroyed the money to ruin me! This is how she’s getting revenge on me for having killed her!

I’m outside now, where the fire is surrounding the apartment building. Oh, no!…They’re throwing me into the fire!

Oddly, I’m not burning, though. I’m floating down the street, moving as if in a van. Where am I going?

Fins

A
fin
seen
over the waves on a beach is a scary thing to see.

A
fin
that
has been cut off by shark hunters, though, is far more horrifying.

A
cut
from
a hunter’s knife is worse than the bite of a shark’s teeth.

A
cut
fin’s
death
to fish
without it.

Shark finning finishes sharks. No fins seen over the surface is our boon, but their doom.

‘Mama,’ a Psychological Horror Novel, Chapter Seven

The combination of the magic circle I drew in my living room, the witch bottle I buried in that front corner of the lawn before my apartment building (still safely there, not dug out or anything), and the amulet I’m wearing and the sachet I have on me everywhere I go means Mama’s ghost can’t do anything to me directly with her magic.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t harm me indirectly.

Her magic can still negatively affect the world I live in. I noticed a way she could affect my life when I read the newspaper this morning. Not only is the world economy in the worst state I’ve ever known it to be in, for my whole life, but the US dollar is quickly losing value thanks to so may countries no longer trading in it, which will affect the economy here and thus affect my own purchasing power.

On top of all of this, tensions between the Western countries on one side, and Russia and China on the other side, mean we’re all coming closer and closer not only to World War Three, but also to nuclear war.

I’m sure Mama’s ghost is behind all of this trouble!

How can I make such an extravagant claim so confidently? As I have been walking to work today, I’ve been able to see, farther off past the tall buildings of the city, gigantic, brightly-coloured mushrooms towering above the cityscape and reaching for the sky! No, I don’t think they’re literally there: they’re a message from Mama, symbolizing the mushroom clouds of nuclear bombs. She’s warning me of what’s soon to come.

I decided to finish my shift first before going to the library and finding more magic books to learn of more ways to stop Mama’s magic. Aunt Jane was really mad at me yesterday for being late for my shift because of my detour to the occult store. She said that if I ever did that again, she’d immediately bring that man, “my father,” to my apartment and force me to meet him! (She knows that I don’t care if she fires me, but that being forced to meet him is unbearable to me.)

I’ve just walked into the store, and I see Aunt Jane at the cash register. She is scowling at me. I know it’s because of the amulet necklace I have on, and the bulge in my Pet Valu shirt breast pocket, where I keep the sachet. This, of course, is Mama’s doing, an attempt to get me to remove them from my person. Aunt Jane objected to them yesterday, too. It didn’t dissuade me from wearing them then, and it won’t dissuade me today.

“Oh, I do wish you’d get rid of those silly things,” she groans at me. “They don’t go with your uniform.”

“Uniform?” I say. “It’s just a shirt.”

“I mean that they take away from the uniformity of your look as a Pet Valu employee,” she says with an impatient sigh. “I’m wearing the shirt, too, but I have no necklace distracting people from it, and no bulge in my pocket distracting people from it, either.”

“If you don’t like them so much, then fire me.”

“In this shrinking economy, with the falling value of the dollar, your mom’s inheritance money might not last that long.”

“I’ll figure out a way to keep going.”

“Then I’ll bring your father over to your home to meet you.”

“You do that, and I’ll quit immediately!”

“Oh, just get back there, punch in, and take over here at the cash register,” she hisses. “I have work I need to do at the back. Hurry up. Impossible kid.”

There she goes again: “Impossible kid.” Just like Mama used to call me. I swear, her ghost is possessing Aunt Jane’s body, trying to get me to get rid of my amulet and sachet. Her reference to the worsening economy is further proof that Mama’s behind it: the news only just came out in today’s paper: she’d hardly have had time to read about it.

I won’t be surprised if Aunt Jane later on today says something about nuclear war.

OK, I’ve punched in, and I’m on my way back to the cash register; but my amulet and sachet are staying right where they’re supposed to be. I don’t want to see anything at all surreal while I have to work. I don’t think Aunt Jane will appreciate me freaking out in front of our customers if I see animal heads on them.

I’ve been standing at this cash register for hours now, and not one customer has walked through the door. Previously, at least a few would have come in by now.

Bad economy…it’s all Mama’s doing.

It’s a good thing I have a chair here, otherwise, my legs would be in agony by now.

What’s that? Out the window, I’m seeing flashes of light that shouldn’t be there. They look like explosions from far off. I’m sure they’re not really there–just like the giant, towering mushrooms I saw on the way here–but just more of Mama’s ghost warning me of what’s to come in the not-all-that-distant future.

This is the best she can do to trouble me.

This is why I must keep my amulet and sachet with me.

And this is why I must go right to the library after work.

I just hope I can find some powerful spells and rituals to keep her not only from affecting our lives on Earth, but also to keep her soul trapped in Hell…where it belongs.

Aunt Jane just came up from the back. She’s looking around the empty store with wide eyes.

“We still don’t have any customers?” she asks. “We haven’t had one all day. Surely the economy isn’t that bad, is it? Seriously, it’s as if the whole world was wiped out with nuclear weapons, and you and I are the only people left on Earth.”

I told you she’d mention nuclear war. Mama’s ghost is possessing Aunt Jane, for sure.

**************

Well, I’ve finished my shift, and I’m on my way to the library. I can see those huge mushrooms towering in the background, behind the tallest of buildings again. Those flashes of light keep popping up in the sky, too. Oh, yeah, Mama’s influence is still being felt in the world, even if it isn’t directly touching me…yet.

Oh, God! There’s that man again, across the street, looking at me and hoping to get my attention. At least he has his human head, thanks to my amulet and sachet. Oh, please don’t follow me into the library! I’m going in there to read, not have a whispered conversation with a total stranger about his nonsensical fantasies of being my father.

I’ve entered the library, and thank God, he didn’t follow me here. Now I’ll just have to get to the occult section and hope I find something–an incantation, a spell, a ritual–that will put Mama in Hell and keep her imprisoned in there, never able to bother me or anyone else on Earth ever again.

Here we are. I’ll just look at all of the book spines on these shelves here until I find a title that looks as if it will cater to my needs.

Hmm…I read those books the last time, useless. Oh, and these here gave me the ideas for the magic circle, the witch bottle, the amulet, and the sachet…and…no, that doesn’t look helpful…nor that…nor that…and on the next shelf,…

Hey, what’s this? How to Banish Evil Spirits Forever. That looks good–I’ll take that one out. And hey, what’s this over here? Send the Devils Back to Hell. I’ll look at this one, too.

At a table here, I’ve been flipping through the pages of these two books for the past fifteen to twenty minutes, and having found a chant from the first book I found, I haven’t yet found something suitable from the second one. What’s in this chapter…? Hey, this might work!

Like the chant in the first book, this one is in another of those ancient, mystical languages. The English translation suggests that this is a good one:

Whoever troubles you the most in life,
Be that soul I, or you, or he, or she,
May these words trap him in eternal strife,
Imprisoned in a hell of misery.

That looks perfect for Mama’s ghost! The pronunciation of the words of the original language seems easy enough; there’s no pronunciation guide anywhere in the book for the language, so I guess that means it’s easy enough to say correctly. The same is true for the language of the chant in the first book. These two seem to be just what I need to prevent Mama from getting into any more mischief. My actions tonight will save not only myself, but the rest of the world, too.

That will make me a hero…if only the world knew.

***************

On my way home now, I’m seeing more flashing lights all around, which are revealing those giant mushrooms, normally hidden in the dark night sky. No worries: after I chant these verses, the flashes and mushrooms will be gone forever. You’re gonna lose, Mama!

I especially like what I read of the English translation of the first chant. It went like this, as I recall:

You evil spirit, I lock you away,
Away from harming others, and yourself.
From your stony cell, you’ll never stray;
You’ll languish there as if left on a shelf.

Very odd rhymes that the translator chose, but the verse seems to express exactly what I need it to say. I just hope I enunciate the verses correctly; as easy as they seem to be to pronounce, there’s always the possibility that I’m assuming too much, and I’ll get something wrong, something crucial.

What are those footsteps I hear behind me. I’d better take a look, though I’ll probably dread who I see…oh, no! That man again!

I guess I should be grateful that I’m still not seeing an elephant’s head on him. He’s running..I’d better run, too.

“Oh, come on, Roger!” he shouts. “Can’t a man talk to his only son?”

“You’re not my father!” I shout. “Go away!”

I’ve managed to outrun him, and I’ve arrived at my apartment. My witch bottle is still safely buried. Good.

OK, I’m inside, and my door is locked. I’ll go over to my magic circle in the living room with my book of notes from the library. I’ll set candles along the periphery of the circle, light them, then turn off the electric lights.

Good: everything’s ready, and I can chant the verses:

O, khalma, lakshmik oka tun
abalka no pushama tei.
Ko mukli toma halba dak;
Mo talma guri sho hanab.

OK, that’s the first verse done; now for the second:

Bidi lirma ota katun
Waga kulmi noto dalad,
Sumerut hoda gasho birit,
Othalmot juki nerob ratas.

Well, that’s it. I guess Mama’s locked away in Hell forever…if I chanted the verses correctly, that is. I’ll get up and look around to see if everything’s OK.

I’m not seeing any flashes of light from out the windows. I’ll go over and take a closer look.

There aren’t any giant mushrooms, that’s a good sign. Still no flashes of light, though I see a strange glow from far off into the horizon. It’s as if the sun hadn’t quite set, yet it’s far too late at night for there to be any sun at all.

It isn’t surreal, what I’m seeing, as it always has been. It doesn’t look supernatural or threatening, as before. It just looks…odd.

Oh, I’m probably just overreacting! There’s probably a perfectly rational explanation for that glow, and I just don’t know what it is. I don’t have to know what everything is for there to be reasonable explanations for unusual phenomena.

It could be a forest fire. There have been lots of wildfires in recent years because of global warming. There could be some…science thing…going on over there that involves lights being turned on, I don’t know.

If it’s me seeing that, it could just be one of my more typical, milder hallucinations, a reflection of my fears and worries about Mama. I’ll just forget about it for now, because I need to get some sleep. If that glow grows into something bigger, I’ll worry about it tomorrow.

I’ll just go to the fridge for a drink of water before going to sleep in the circle…what?

In the mirror reflection…I’m not seeing myself.

I’m seeing…her.

It’s not her with me–it’s just her, standing in my position.

She isn’t grinning malevolently at me, as she used to.

She’s frowning in fear…exactly as I am.

When I move, she moves the exact same way.

I look down at myself and see myself, not her.

But her every movement in the reflection is my own movement.

It’s as if the mirror were telling me that I am her. Mama and I would have to be one and the same person. I can’t look at her anymore; I have to look away, to the windows.

That glow outside seems a little brighter, isn’t it?

‘Mama,’ a Psychological Horror Novel, Chapter Six

Oh, wow! That was such a restful sleep I had! I can see the morning sun shining through the window to my left, welcoming me to go outside. I know I can go outside of this circle on my living room floor, and even just outside my apartment building, with no fear of the magic of Mama’s ghost causing me such problems as she did for me last night.

How am I so free of fear? Because of my witch bottle, of course! I was already safe as soon as I made it and consecrated it with that verse I’d chanted to consecrate the magic circle.

When I left the circle with the witch bottle in my hand, my body didn’t change at all, the way it did so shockingly last night. Mama’s ghost was still frowning at me from the living room mirror, a good sign that she couldn’t do anything to harm me or frustrate me. I took the bottle and a shovel outside, dug a hole in the front lawn as planned, a small hole in the corner–where the lawn met the sidewalk and the driveway–where no one would notice much of a change in the look of the area, and I buried the bottle there.

I returned to my apartment with perfect safety–no bizarre changes to my body or anything else like that. I returned to my circle, this time with my bedroom blanket and pillow. I lay there on the floor, saw Mama’s ghost frowning in the mirror reflection again, and closed my eyes with a peaceful smile on my face. I fell asleep within a few minutes.

Now I can eat some cereal with no fear that she’s going to change it into something disgusting and inedible. I’m up, I’ve gone out of the circle with no problems, and I can confidently eat my breakfast.

I see myself in that mirror all looking normal. Mama’s ghost isn’t even there anymore, scowling or smiling. I guess she doesn’t want to see me gloating at her.

I’m eating a bowl of Shreddies in the kitchen now, and sure enough nothing is wrong. Oh, I feel so much better knowing that I’ve developed magical abilities to thwart her power! Thus encouraged, I’m sure to learn more so I can keep her from doing anything worse to me, or to the rest of the world.

Now that I’ve finished my delicious breakfast, I can take a shower, get dressed, and go to do my shift at the Pet Valu store. Of course, once I’ve gone far enough away from my apartment, my protective magic won’t be able to stop Mama from engaging in any more mischief. I’ll need protection for everywhere I go.

I’ll need to buy an amulet or a sachet.

I think I know a place downtown, an occult store. I can go there and look around. I just hope Mama doesn’t do anything to prevent me from getting there and finding something good.

***********

OK, I finished my shower and put on some fresh clothes, still with no problems. I just have to get outside and over to that downtown store safely. Mama’s ghost will be so mad at me for stopping her here at home that she’ll surely want to get revenge on me.

What am I going to do to protect myself on the way to that store? What if I chanted that verse I used to sanctify the circle and witch bottle? What if I chanted it over and over again, with no breaks in between? Hey, that just might work!

Since getting to the store is priority, I’ll have to be late for my shift at the pet food store. Oh, well: what is Aunt Jane going to do, fire me? She’d only be doing me a favour.

Well, I’m outside now, and I’ve walked past the spot where I buried the witch bottle. I’m walking on the sidewalk, getting farther and farther away from my apartment building, and so far, nothing crazy has happened.

But it’s sure to start happening any second now.

To be on the safe side, I’d better start chanting that verse.

Wana baka waigo,
Iman kuchi zdega
Kalu bodi gana.
Sibako woli zuku.

Wow, just as I started chanting the first line of the verse, I saw the nose of a man about to walk past me turn into a snake, yet my words quickly made the snake dissolve and turn back into a nose just as he passed me! Of the other people on the sidewalk about to pass me, I’m seeing green, slithery noses on them, too! I’d better keep chanting: Wana baka waigo…

Good, their noses are back to normal, too. Iman kuchi zdega…

Everything is staying normal…good. Kalu bodi gana…

I think I’ll be safe for the rest of the walk to the occult store. Sibako woli zuku.

Hey, who is that trio of boys coming up at me from behind? Wana baka waigo…They look familiar, kids who have annoyed me in the past.

“Hey, it’s that psycho freak, Roger Gunn!” one of the brats calls out from just behind my right ear. Iman kuchi zdega…

I feel a hard shove on my back from one of them.

“Leave me alone!” I shout at them, looking back at them with a scowl that, of course, does nothing to deter them.

What I see of them when I look back, though…

Instead of human faces on the three boys, I see the faces of pigs, with huge, mucus-moistened snouts! Now, instead of taunts, I’m hearing oinks and grunts.

This is what I get when I forget to keep chanting.

But instead of chanting the verse again, I’m running. I want to get away from those kids, porcine or not.

Of course, the three of them are running after me. I can hear the clanking sound of what sounds like six huge metallic robotic feet clomping on the sidewalk. I still hear grunting. I’m running as fast as I can. Wana…baka…waigo…

The metallic clanking is now just a sextet of sneaker footfalls. Iman…kuchi…zdega…No more oinking, but I can still hear those three brats running behind me. Kalu…bodi…gana… I hear their taunts.

“Who are you…talking to, you fucking…mental case?”

“There’s no one there…to talk to, you know that, right?”

“You’re seeing…and hearing things! Get therapy, you nut job!”

A few more blocks, and I’ll reach the occult store.

I just made the traffic light, and those kids didn’t make it…good. Looking back, I can see they’ve stopped chasing me. Still, I’d better resume my chanting, for I see their pig-faces and metallic feet again. Sibako woli zuku…

It’s so good not having to run anymore. I won’t be chanting the words while panting, weakening their effectiveness. Wana baka waigo…

I can see the sign of the store down the street. Good, I’m almost there. Iman kuchi zdega…

OK, here it is: Arnie’s Arcana. In I go…

Wait a minute–instead of seeing shelves of books and other merchandise in a well-lit store, I’m seeing a dark cave with stalactites and stalagmites. I forgot to chant again: Kalu bodi gana…

There, that’s better–a brightly-lit store with everything clearly displayed. Sibako woli zuku. Now, I just have to find the amulets and sachets. Wana baka waigo…

Books on ceremonial magic…Iman kuchi zdega… Books for Wiccans…Kalu bodi gana…Let me get past all these books…Sibako woli zuku…

Here’s a bunch of assorted merchandise, small things–maybe I’ll find the amulets and sachets here.

“Hello, can I help you?” a worker in the store asks me. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Do you have any amulets or sachets?” I ask.

It’s getting darker. The stalactites and stalagmites are coming back…

“Oof!” I just tripped over a tall stalagmite.

“Are you OK, Sir?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say.

Then I look up at her.

Instead of seeing a normal woman’s face, I see three black, snaky appendages coming from her cheeks and forehead, at the end of each of which is a bat, trying to bite at my face! “Oh, my God!” I yell as I scramble to get back up and away from her.

“Sir, what’s wrong?” she asks, but with the squeaking voice of a bat with the ability to speak. “Surely, I’m not that ugly.” She laughs nervously, but with the squeaky bat voice.

“No, it’s not that,” I say, then, “Wana baka waigo.“

The bat appendages dissolve, and the dark cave lights up into a well-lit store again. “Iman kuchi zdega.”

“The amulets and sachets are over there, in the corner, Sir,” she says in her normal voice, gesturing to that corner, where I run in a spastic frenzy.

“Kalu bodi gana,” I say in a tremulous voice as I frantically look over the amulets and sachets. As I’m looking them over, trying to focus on which ones look the best, I see the store darkening again. “Sibako woli zuku.” It lights up again.

“Sir, I know it’s none of my business, but have you thought about seeing a doctor?” she asks, sneering at me.

“No, I just need to buy these,” I say, holding up a sachet and an amulet I’ve chosen. “How much are they?”

The store darkens again, and instead of seeing her arms reach out to take the amulet and sachet to find the price tags I was too nervous to find myself, I see two long snakes grab them with their teeth, also biting my hands!

“Oww!” I shout, then pull my hands back to suck on the bite wounds.

“Sir, I never hurt you,” she says, in her bat squeaks, those three bats flying out from her face again and trying to bite at my face again. One of them bites my left ear.

“Aah!” I scream. “Let’s hurry to the cash register so I can pay for them. Quickly! Wana baka waigo!” The store lights up again, she’s back to normal, and we’re at the cash register.

“That’ll be $27.46, Sir,” she says with fear in her eyes. “Will that be cash, or charge?”

“Cash,” I say, then slap three ten dollar bills on the counter. The store is going dark and cavernous again, and a snake-arm takes the money and bites my hand before I can take it away. “Oww!“

I fumble with the amulet, which is attached to a necklace, before putting it around my neck. As I hold it and look at it, I say, “Wana baka waigo, Iman kuchi zdega Kali bodi gana. Sibako woli zuku.” The store lights up again, and she looks normal again, with harmless arms.

Yes, she looks normal, alright…except for the terrified look on her face.

Now I’m staring at the sachet I bought and am holding in my hand, repeating the four-line verse to sanctify it, too. I put it in the chest pocket of my Pet Valu shirt, I look at the clerk, and slowly regain my breath. “I’m sorry about that, Miss,” I tell her.

“Sir, are you alright now?” she asks, her eyes getting teary. “You really gave me a scare there. Were you hallucinating or something?”

“Ma’am, this store sells magic stuff, does it not?” I ask rather petulantly as I feel my heartbeat slowing down. “If you sell that stuff, surely you also believe in magic, right? Some people who practice magic are witches, right?” She’s been nodding nervously to my reasoning. “Now, a witch has been using magic on me, making me see monstrous things. That’s why I needed to buy these things, to protect myself from her. I bought them, I’ve sanctified them, and now everything is OK. Thank you. I’ll go now.”

She’s too shaken up to say goodbye as I walk out of the store.

On the street and still shaking, but grateful to see everything all normal again, I feel my cellphone ringing in my pocket. I take it out. “Hello?”

“Roger?” Aunt Jane says. “Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago.”

Instead of answering, I can’t stop laughing.