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Smooth Lines

Haggard liked to stare through his living room window. His reflection would look back at him grimly. Could he have done things differently? Maybe, maybe not. As his reflection stares back, Haggard could not help but wonder about his son.

The big blue-eyed little boy now looks at him coldly. These eyes frightened him. They hid something that scared Haggard. This boy was intense. His piercing cold eyes told stories of the fine lines the boy walked.

Haggard remembered sharing his feelings with his wife. She had laughed, dismissing his unfounded opinions. To her, he was a sweet boy, only needing extra attention.

Contrary to the boy, the sister was very different. She was sweet, adorable, and captivating. Her beautiful small blue eyes told a million love stories. She was warm and accepting. Gentle and easy to love.

Photo by Colin Maynard on Unsplash

The difference between her and her brother was striking. Everyone, but his wife had noticed. Where he was cold, she was warm. Where he was calculating, she was honest but protective.

Kendrell grew up fast. The brother was always playing catch up. When she was crawling, he was learning to sit. By the time he was crawling, Kendrell was pulling curtains down and making messes everywhere with her fat ankles.

By age seven, Kendrell’s power had manifested. His had not. People thought he would catch up later, but Haggard knew better.

The boy reminded him of the stories his grandfather used to tell him about his great grand uncle born into a witch family but with no real power of his own. The great grand uncle also had a twin sister, sweet and adorable.

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Envious of her power, he had driven a mystical knife that could trap a witch’s power through her stomach. He would then use that knife to annihilate the whole coven. But his plans were half-lived. He managed to gut the better half of the family.

The coven had decided death was too good for such a crime. So they had sent him somewhere beyond the eyes where he would suffer in solitude.

Sadly for Haggard, his boy had followed in his great grand uncle footsteps. But his desire for blood was heightened. He would kill in the death of the night and leave no traces of his involvement. He would then feign innocence as he helped the coven find the killer. No one was ever found.

Photo by Bee Felten-Leidel on Unsplash

He would wait for people to drop their guard, then he would start preying, kill, and hide. Haggard knew it was him. Father and son would look knowingly at each other.

Haggard was lost in thought when a chilling coldness froze his spine. His reflection stared back. Only it was not him staring back.

He could not speak. He stood there gasping for air while clutching his throat as blood-spattered. Someone had slashed his throat.

Everyone rushed to him, wondering what was happening.

When he came to, he found Kendrell looking at him with worry-filled eyes. He rushed his hands to his throat. Nothing, the cut was gone.

Sebastian.

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Hoping that Something will Happen

Sebastian likes to sit at the register and imagine himself interacting with incoming book lovers. He does not love books. He worships them. Before his exile, Sebastian would not have been caught dead holding a book. But with nothing but years of loneliness, books had become his only companion. Every seven days, he walks around the bookstore, cleaning and dusting shelves and books. These are dear to him because they understand him while everything else in this prison world mocks.

He whistles a tune happily. Ten years down the line and he has been as dutiful to the books as he had been to death back in his lively days.  

Locked in the depth of these pages was a sacred secret—delicious revenge. How stupid could his coven be? Putting Sebastian with eons of storytelling was like giving a child candy. They had underestimated his love for knowledge—murderous knowledge. Sooner than later, they would taste that mistake. 

Photo by Reza Hasannia on Unsplash

For now, time and books are all he had. 

Then his favorite part of the day begins with the bell tinkling as the doors open. Before Sebastian could look up and admire the walk-in, the book lover disappeared within the bookshelves.

“That was fast. Where did you go?” Sebastian thinks to himself. “Oh well.” “Don’t we just love when they run!” he asserts. 

He follows the footfall. “You like attention, don’t you?” 

Just before the foot takes the corner, he sees acres of white flesh. “Just like how I like them.” He ponders as he follows the footfall. 

More skin. “Damn girl, you’re an attention seeker.” 

Like a prey, he follows her from a distance, anticipating her moves. “Four ways ahead, let us see what type of reader you are.” He thinks to himself.

The stranger swings left. “Fiction, what a darling!” thinks Sebastian.  

“Oh how about I show you how real fiction can get” and with that Sebastian pounces. 

The stranger gasps. 

“I surprised you, didn’t I,” Sebastian thinks to himself proudly. 

“Sorry, I saw you walking in and thought you would need my help” He starts, a wolf in sheep clothing. 

She smiles. Her eyes light the world.

 “Perfect. Can’t wait to see the light die out of those stormy eyes.” Sebastian thinks to himself. “What would your eyes look like in death? Would you question death or just go.” 

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“Damn those eyes. They stare at me like me. Where have I seen you before?” Sebastian searches his mind recollecting that gaze. Page after page. “Which character are you?” He ponders.

I want a book about vampires….. ” her voice disappears into the nothingness of his mind. 

“Father. You handsome devil!” The image of his father pops up. The storm in his grey eyes was the intensity with which he threw the ascender into his hands as the coven sent him to the mysterious prison world. 

Pocket-knife warming his hands, he gazes into those stormy eyes. One clean-cut and blood decorate the walls, books, and shelves.

Sebastian retakes his position by the register. He waits for the doors to open. Whose image, would his mind conjure next? “I have all the time.” 

The bell tinkles as the door open. 

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Home Sweet Home: I’m on My Way

Sebastian stands by the window as if fascinated by light chasing darkness. Tick Tock, Tick Tock, warns the clock on the wall. The watch, however, does not concern him. It did not matter how fast or slow it Tick-Tocked. Every day was a repeat of the other. He had all the time in the world.

When the wind blows, he can hear his coven chanting. When the trees bend willingly, he sees his coven dancing to the sweet melody of the power flowing through their veins to and from the ancestors beneath their feet, and those in the witching circle. The sweetness of revenge tests him. He swallows hopefully.

The tree that refuses to bend reminds him of his twin sister—the backstabber, his tormentor. She did not want to be a witch. She desired to live in the mortal world as mundane as humanly possible. The coven would never allow her to go.

So, they had plotted. As twins, their bond transcended the visible world to the unknown, and they could switch places. He would get her power. She would get his mundane.  

So they stood in the presence of the ancestors, hands interlocked. Sebastian remembers waiting for the ecstasy of her power. But his wishful thinking blindsided him, as out of nowhere, the rest of the coven surrounds them chanting. In a fraction of a second, they disappear into the light.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Then he finds himself in this strange place. The cars are parked in the streets as if waiting for their owners who had rushed into the bar for a drink. The road stared back gloomily as if a methane leak had swept the town cremating every human before sweet Mother Nature used that ash to feed its adorable green babies. The grill, shops, and houses stood empty. The town church glared back as if reminding him his witchy blood should not set foot on that holy ground.

Every day Sebastian looks at the town clock as if waiting for someone from the other side to bang the gong. Then the streets would light with life and dreams. Dreams that call to him, no, beg him. Like the gentleman he was, he would oblige. He would clean up and put on a tuxedo that clutched to him like a second skin. Then he would head to his dearest part of the world, the Kitchen.

Knives. Big sharp knives, where are you?

If only the way home had an IV, Sebastian would gladly give his vein. He lived for that ride. He lived for the screams of those blue-eyed babies. Oh wait, the last one was his younger brother with locking green eyes. Looking at him was like laying in a green field. But nothing compares to how green they looked as they stared back at him in death.

Oh, home sweet home, look what you make me do. Sebastian sighs, switches off the lights. He then crashes on his mattress. With every dream, he perfects his days into his future past. With every day, his plan ripens.

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