Authors: Sandy DeLuca
Darkness Conjured (9 page)
“Even though he died it doesn’t stop him.”
7
I’ve been looking through
Paradise Lost
tonight. Lots of it scares me. Pieces of it tie in to my dreams, to what I read
in that article and to things I know about Ken.
Paradise Lost
tonight. Lots of it scares me. Pieces of it tie in to my dreams, to what I read
in that article and to things I know about Ken.
The painting flanking Ken’s truck is here.
The Flight of Moloch
As for John Milton’s words, I’ve read this part over and over:
“First MOLOCH, horrid King besmear’d with blood
Of human sacrifice, and parents tears,
Though for the noyse of Drums and Timbrels loud
Though for the noyse of Drums and Timbrels loud
Their childrens cries unheard...
My parents can’t hear my sobs or feel my pain. I’m hidden in this awful place. Silenced by deeds dark and unforgivable.
* * *
I’ve never slept well. Always waking at the slightest noise. Always having bad
dreams. Once I awoke from a nightmare, shivering and tearful. My father stood
over me. His face flush from the cold.
dreams. Once I awoke from a nightmare, shivering and tearful. My father stood
over me. His face flush from the cold.
“Quiet, Meg, you’ll wake your mother and sisters,” he whispered. I smelled liquor and cigarette smoke on him.
I sobbed when he walked away.
He stopped and said. “Oh, Meg, I wish I could do better for you. Think your crying now? Just wait...”
* * *
Flora’s knocking on my door.
“Meg.”
I close my book, rise and then let Flora in.
“I heard crying down the hall. It’s Linda Sinelli. She’s lying on floor. Blood everywhere.”
My heart beats quickly, like drums I hear in the distance. I don’t say a word as I open the door and make my way down the hall with Flora at my
heels.
heels.
Linda lies on the carpet. Her nightgown is soaked with blood and a crimson ring
is forming on the rug. She looks up at me with unfocused eyes. I kneel down and
touch her face. She’s so cold.
is forming on the rug. She looks up at me with unfocused eyes. I kneel down and
touch her face. She’s so cold.
She reaches for my hand. “Please help.” Her voice is weak.
I turn to Flora. “Run downstairs. Get help.”
Confusion spreads across Flora’s face and then she spins on her heels. She moves down the corridor and then the
stairs. I hear someone whisper and then muffled laughter.
stairs. I hear someone whisper and then muffled laughter.
Linda sobs. “I’m going to die. It hurts so bad.”
“You’re not going to die.”
We sit for what seems like an eternity. The crimson ring grows larger and now
Linda seems to have floated away. Her legs and hands twitch.
Linda seems to have floated away. Her legs and hands twitch.
Suddenly she’s still. I press my head to her chest. I hear her heart beat. Weak and slow. I
hear the old Grandfather clock tick in the hall. I hear voices and footsteps on
the stair. Linda lets out a tiny gasp.
hear the old Grandfather clock tick in the hall. I hear voices and footsteps on
the stair. Linda lets out a tiny gasp.
Now Irene, Davika and Maureen approach me. Flora walks somberly behind them and
Marsha rushes past her. She’s suddenly beside Linda and me.
Marsha rushes past her. She’s suddenly beside Linda and me.
Irene bends down. “Too late to get her to the hospital. We’ll have to deliver the baby here. Girls, go to your rooms.”
Davika reaches into her pocket and removes a small container. She pops open the
cork and sprinkles salt around Linda. “We can stop this.”
cork and sprinkles salt around Linda. “We can stop this.”
Irene waves her hand in dismissal at Davika. “You know as well as I that some things are fated.”
Davika shakes her head and sobs. “Got to try to keep the insanity away.” She moves away, singing softly and sprinkling salt on the floor. Now I hear Mr.
Greely’s voice. I think he’s on the stairwell. He’s singing along with Davika.
Greely’s voice. I think he’s on the stairwell. He’s singing along with Davika.
I let go of Linda’s hand and stand. “We could call an ambulance.”
“It’s too late.” Marsha’s words are filled with anger. Irene and Maureen both look towards me. Hatred
burns in their eyes.
burns in their eyes.
I put my hands on my hips. “I won’t let you. I know what you do here. I figured it all out.”
“You know nothing.” Marsha shakes her head and then kneels beside Linda.
Irene nudges Maureen, “Did he make a mistake? Did he chose the wrong one?”
“What the hell are you talking about. Who is
he
?” I scream.
he
?” I scream.
Patrick Lamont is here now. He looks my way and then puts a finger to his lips, “Go now. We have a job to do.”
Other girls are coming towards us, talking in whispers.
“All of you. To your rooms.” Marsha touches Linda’s belly. “Damn you all, go.”
I’m the last to go, standing defiant as wicked eyes peer into mine. I see horrible
things in those dark orbs; a child ripped from an open womb, screaming as a
dark God laughs with glee. I see myself kneeling before the same God. He
reaches out and strokes my stomach as tiny flutters beat against my skin.
things in those dark orbs; a child ripped from an open womb, screaming as a
dark God laughs with glee. I see myself kneeling before the same God. He
reaches out and strokes my stomach as tiny flutters beat against my skin.
Marsha’s eyes are now orange flames where child cries blend with heat and pain. Fear
overtakes me and I hate myself for leaving Linda alone. I don’t like that I run away, that I’ve allowed those women to win.
overtakes me and I hate myself for leaving Linda alone. I don’t like that I run away, that I’ve allowed those women to win.
* * *
I was seven—maybe eight—when I awakened from a nightmare of lost children wandering down a path that
twisted and turned. An endless labyrinth that always brought the poor souls
back to where they began. Back to the arms of an angel with black wings and
pointed teeth.
twisted and turned. An endless labyrinth that always brought the poor souls
back to where they began. Back to the arms of an angel with black wings and
pointed teeth.
I shivered as I nestled my head against my pillow. I strained my ears for signs
of others who might be awake in the house.
of others who might be awake in the house.
I heard my mother’s voice, soft and sweet. I longed for her to comfort me. So I made my way down
the stairs and towards the dining room, where she often battled insomnia. But
she was not alone on that night. Nor was she rocking in a chair by the window.
the stairs and towards the dining room, where she often battled insomnia. But
she was not alone on that night. Nor was she rocking in a chair by the window.
My parents sat at the dining room table with three older women. They wore long
dark dresses. Wispy white hair hung like spider webs down their backs. I
thought they might be sisters because they had similar bulbous noses. The
youngest might have been in her early sixties, the second perhaps around
seventy and the oldest looked ancient.
dark dresses. Wispy white hair hung like spider webs down their backs. I
thought they might be sisters because they had similar bulbous noses. The
youngest might have been in her early sixties, the second perhaps around
seventy and the oldest looked ancient.
I peered at them from behind a fake rubber plant. At first they seemed to be
praying in a strange language. Candles flickered and smoke spiraled upward. The
ugliest and oldest spoke when the incantations ended.
praying in a strange language. Candles flickered and smoke spiraled upward. The
ugliest and oldest spoke when the incantations ended.
“All join hands. This is a call to the beyond. A petition to the dark side.”
Bells from silver bracelets jingled and clothing rustled as everyone shifted in
their seats offering hands to each other. My mother winched when my father took
her right hand and one of the women squeezed her left.
their seats offering hands to each other. My mother winched when my father took
her right hand and one of the women squeezed her left.
The oldest woman spoke again. “The spirits are here and they want to know what we have to offer.”
My mother’s voice erupted, tinged with fear, “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“Yes, it does. Only sacrifice will help now.” The old woman lowered her head and a deeper, creepier voice escaped from her
lips.
“I wait for him in this house. In the dark. In the cold. Blood from the
sacrificed pools around me and the drums beat so that the children’s cries are muffled.”
lips.
“I wait for him in this house. In the dark. In the cold. Blood from the
sacrificed pools around me and the drums beat so that the children’s cries are muffled.”
My father’s face was pale in the candlelight. His hand shook after he loosened the grip of
the old hag beside him.
the old hag beside him.
Fear surged through me when dark shapes began to hover above my parents and
candles ceased to burn. All three women looked my way and their eyes mocked me.
Too frightened to linger any longer, I ran away.
candles ceased to burn. All three women looked my way and their eyes mocked me.
Too frightened to linger any longer, I ran away.
I heard my mother call me. A silvery song in the midst of darkness, but nothing
could make me go back, not even my mother’s embrace.
could make me go back, not even my mother’s embrace.
Once in my room, I crawled back into bed and shivered beneath blankets. Sounds
echoed from downstairs; howling, mocking laughter and muffled cries.
echoed from downstairs; howling, mocking laughter and muffled cries.
I heard footsteps in the hall and a creak outside my door. I thought the women
were coming for me. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about angels. A warm
feeling overtook me. The next thing I knew the sun was pouring through my
window and the smell of bacon and coffee drifted from below.
were coming for me. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about angels. A warm
feeling overtook me. The next thing I knew the sun was pouring through my
window and the smell of bacon and coffee drifted from below.
I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen, telling myself what I’d seen the night before was a dream.
Something dark and horrifying hung in the air. Once again I tried to dismiss it
as childhood imaginings, but my mother’s red-rimmed eyes and my father’s haunted gaze told me that something terrifying had been set in motion the
night before.
as childhood imaginings, but my mother’s red-rimmed eyes and my father’s haunted gaze told me that something terrifying had been set in motion the
night before.
I grew up, life went on, but the terror came to pass...just as I knew it would.
* * *
Flora and I go back to my room.
“Do you think everything will be alright?” She asks. Her eyes are wide. Filled with terror. Her lips are trembling. “I hate Maureen and Irene.”
I remember the spare change I’d hidden. I look to my closet. It’ll be alright. “We can call somebody from the payphone.”
We cringe when we hear keys jiggling and then a click.
“We’re locked in.” Flora’s face reddens.
We both rush to the door.
“Let us out. You can’t do this.” I pound on cracked wood. Flora leans against the wall.
I continue to pound and call out. My fists are sore. My throat is dry, yet I do
not stop.
not stop.
After what seems like ten minutes or more, the locks unhinge.
Irene stands there. Syringe in hand.
“Meg, I didn’t want to do this, but it’s best. Flora stand back.” Irene’s eyes seem to hypnotize my friend. The girl backs away and slowly climbs onto
the bed.
the bed.
Now Irene grabs my arm. “You’re a tough one to break, aren’t you?” She smiles. “It was traumatic seeing Linda bleeding and in pain.”
She pushes me. Her strength is amazing.
I look to Flora. She’s merely staring into space.
“What did you do to Flora?” I struggle with Irene. “I don’t want any medication. The baby.”
“This is just something to relax you. No harm to the baby.”
“No.” I struggle and then lean over and bite her cheek.
Growls erupt from her throat. Her eyes seem to glow red and then she slaps me.
For a moment I’m stunned. Before long I begin to struggle and kick with ferocity. Irene shakes
her head. “Give me a hand, will you?”
For a moment I’m stunned. Before long I begin to struggle and kick with ferocity. Irene shakes
her head. “Give me a hand, will you?”
The room turns icier and becomes darker. Now someone is beside Irene. A man. His
face obscured by shadow. I know him, or least I think I do. It’s not Patrick Lamont or Mr. Greely. I try to make out his features, but darkness
denies me.
face obscured by shadow. I know him, or least I think I do. It’s not Patrick Lamont or Mr. Greely. I try to make out his features, but darkness
denies me.
The man holds my arms. His hands are rough, cold and his fingers are wet. I try
to pull away, but he’s too strong. I feel his breath on my face as Irene plunges the needle into my
flesh.
to pull away, but he’s too strong. I feel his breath on my face as Irene plunges the needle into my
flesh.
The room spins as I’m lifted and carried to the bed. Someone strokes my hair. I hear Flora sigh.
Footsteps sound. The door closes. The lock clicks and I’m in another place and another time.
Footsteps sound. The door closes. The lock clicks and I’m in another place and another time.
I’m serving coffee to Ken. He winks at me and then points to my father hanging
from a rope in the attic. Now Lizzy’s car spins off a snowy highway and into a churning river. I see Moloch sitting
on his throne. He’s cradling a small bundle in his arms. He laughs as drummers beat primitive
instruments. Linda kneels before him and cries, “Please give my baby back.”
from a rope in the attic. Now Lizzy’s car spins off a snowy highway and into a churning river. I see Moloch sitting
on his throne. He’s cradling a small bundle in his arms. He laughs as drummers beat primitive
instruments. Linda kneels before him and cries, “Please give my baby back.”
Moloch laughs. The drums beat louder and then fire envelops the scene.
I awaken when I hear voices in the hall. Footsteps sound on the stairs and
someone screams.
someone screams.
Flora lays beside me and rests her head on my shoulder. Sleet and rain begin to
fall. In smoky night I hear a vehicle’s engine outside. I peer out the window. A truck idles. Light from a car’s headlights spills onto its side.
fall. In smoky night I hear a vehicle’s engine outside. I peer out the window. A truck idles. Light from a car’s headlights spills onto its side.
The Flight of Moloch.
“Ken.” I try to push up the window. It won’t budge. The truck’s engine roars. Wipers slice rain. Smoke swirls. Now I see three figures moving
slowly towards the truck.
slowly towards the truck.
Marsha carries a bundle. Irene and Maureen are behind her. They stop when they
reach the driver’s door. They wait until it opens. The driver reaches for the bundle and then
drives away leaving them standing in the storm.
reach the driver’s door. They wait until it opens. The driver reaches for the bundle and then
drives away leaving them standing in the storm.
I pound on glass. I scream, but no one hears. Not even Flora who is lost in
unnatural slumber.
unnatural slumber.
I can’t lose hope. I can’t give in to this insanity, so I nestle close to Flora and I pray.
* * *
I don’t think the three old women came back to our house after that terrifying night,
but I swear I saw them every now and then. Walking side by side down
Westminster Mall on a sunless Saturday afternoon and then disappearing into the
old arcade. Or seated in the back of a taxi as its driver cruised down our
street.
but I swear I saw them every now and then. Walking side by side down
Westminster Mall on a sunless Saturday afternoon and then disappearing into the
old arcade. Or seated in the back of a taxi as its driver cruised down our
street.
Once I heard the oldest women’s voice above the choir at Sunday Mass. My mother reached for my hand when the
words became clear. When candles burning near St. Anthony went out.
words became clear. When candles burning near St. Anthony went out.
“
I wait for him in this house. In the dark. In the cold.”
I wait for him in this house. In the dark. In the cold.”
* * *
“Meg, you ok?” Flora nudges me. I wonder how long she’s been awake.
“Linda. They took her baby,” I tell her.
She looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. “How do you know that?”
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