It Came Looking

Sunday 20 October 2013
It was the summer of Reneé’s 24th year that lingered as if it were a drop of blood that could never be washed away like the almost perfect murder. Try as she might, she could not forget the past but in the five years that had passed since then, she remained single and still lived at home with her parents and little sister, Lola. At times she was able to hold the oppressive cloud of that summer at bay but her sister had opened up fresh wounds- wounds that may have healed had it been five years ago.
It was five years ago when Lola, then 17 years old, ran into the house, tears streaming down her face. She was a silent crier, always had been, and even then the only noise from her was the thudding of her footsteps as she ran up the stairs. Reneé was torn between going up to her sister and comforting her, or meeting her boyfriend, Mark, at his house as she had promised him earlier. She chose to see Mark and spent a wonderful evening eating dinner cooked by him (he could cook a mean foie gras). Not once during that night did she wonder why her sister was crying.

As the days flew by, Reneé spent more and more time with Mark. Sometimes he would come to her place while Lola was around and she would notice the way Lola's eyes seemed to always avoid Mark's when he talked to her. Other times, when Lola thought no one could see her, she would glare at Mark angrily as if he had betrayed her in an unforgivable way. Soon she would mysteriously become absent whenever Mark chose to come over, claiming that she had an exam to study for and that the only peace and quiet she could get was at the library. If only Reneé had seen the signs ... if only.
Over the next few weeks she noticed bruises and cuts appearing on her sister’s body. Finally, she decided to ask what was happening. One night, after her parents had gone to sleep, she went to Lola’s room. Lola was still awake, standing at her window, gazing off into the distance as if in a trance. “Lola we need to talk,” said Reneé from behind her. Lola spun around startled. Reneé could see that her eyes were swollen red from crying. Lola wiped her tears and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“About what?” asked Lola tremulously.
“Is something wrong?” asked Reneé. “I’ll always be here for you. Please talk to me.”
Lola’s smile disappeared off her face and was replaced by an expression of  startling anger. Her eyes seem to darken ever so slightly. “You don’t care what happened to me! It takes you weeks to ask me what’s wrong? Go away! Just go!” she yelled at Reneé. She turned around and resumed staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought again.
Reneé didn’t press the issue. She cared about her sister but if she didn’t want to talk about it, she wasn’t going to force her to. Yet it struck Reneé as odd that her sister was angry with her ... almost as if Lola blamed her for something. She left Lola’s room and now five years later she wondered if she could’ve been a better sister to Lola. She wondered if she had shown more care towards her, would things have turned out different?
A couple of months later, on the rainiest night of the year, Lola came home soaking wet. Not a word did she say as she scampered up to her bedroom and locked herself in. Not a word did Reneé ask her for Lola’s silence and distress had become almost normal these past few months. Reflecting back she realized she chose to be oblivious to Lola's suffering. It was easier that way. Yet that night stuck in her memory like a knife lodged in bone. As the rain beat against the window as if an angry creature were trying to get in, Mark disappeared. It was in the morning when the police came to interview her that she knew what had happened.  He had vanished without a trace and five years later, there was still no sign of him … nor was there any sign of Lola’s necklace. It was a gold chain with an ivory wolf pendant that her mother had given her. Reneé wore a similar one but instead of a wolf she had a swan. It was a necklace of more sentimental value than monetary worth. Lola maintained that she had lost it and that was that. There was nothing that could be done about the necklace … or Mark.
Up until a few minutes ago, her memories of Mark had been  quite fond. He had taken her to see Cirque Du Solei when it had come into town. He had taken her skating when it was a full moon, just so he could tell her that she was more beautiful than the orb that hung in the sky. He had taken her swimming in Talou Lake and then they had watched the stars in the skies and counted them until they fell asleep, wet and holding each other. When her cat, Poosie, had died when a car ran over her, he held her for hours as she sobbed into his shirt uncontrollably. Yet the last memory she associated with Mark were her sister’s words, spoken only minutes before.
 Her relationship with Lola had deteriorated to a point where they didn’t talk to each other. Reneé tried over the years to talk to Lola but Lola shut her out. Her bruises had long healed but evidently the ones inside of her had not. In silence she carried whatever burden was thrust upon her and yet today, as she ran past Reneé down the stairs and to the front door, she had something to say to Reneé. She had longed to hear Lola’s voice directed at her but she had not expected that five years of silence would mount to this: “Mark raped me five years ago on Talou Lake, the night he disappeared. He ripped my necklace off my neck and had me. I got away from him, made sure he wouldn't do this to me again. He did things to me all that summer but you just didn't care.” She spat it out as if she were chewing something bitter and unpleasant. Before Reneé could say a word, she stormed out of the house, leaving her with more questions than answers.
It was too much to believe that Mark raped Lola all those years ago but why would she lie? With great sadness she reflected that she had wasted five years mourning for a man who perhaps met a much deserved end. And suddenly the water works began, her tears gushing out as Lola's had many times before. Reneé went up to her room and crawled into bed, hoping that the last five years was a mere dream. Despite the cloying summer heat that made staying in her room unbearable,  she soon drifted off into deep sleep.
All was still in the darkness of the night, the only light, a dim glow from the moon that played peek-a-boo from behind the clouds. Somehow summer had turned into winter and snow covered the ground in a sea of white. More snow fell from the heavens accumulating in drifts. For reasons unbeknownst to her, Reneé found herself standing barefoot in the snow. She was dressed in light pink, pyjamas and shivered as the cold cut into her skin like a carving knife. Yet in her mind, she had a purpose. It was an urge to walk through the snow until she reached Talou Lake, a lake that once held fond memories for her. She was not worried or scared, she knew there were answers at the lake but for what questions, she did not know.
She trembled as the cold caressed her like a deprived lover as she set out slowly for Talou Lake. With each step she took, the wind blew harder but when she was within 50 meters of the lake, it died suddenly as if a switch had been flipped. She did not take another step as if she were waiting for someone to meet her here. The snow fell on her skin and melted like her heart had once melted when Mark was there for her. Her breath misted in the air, curlicues of smoky breath drifting off into the distance.
And from the depths of Talou Lake rose a figure, cloaked fully in black and although the face was not covered, where it should’ve been was a pit of darkness. The figure moved towards her, not quite touching the ground. As fearful as Reneé felt, she stood her ground for her mind told her this was who she was waiting for. It moved closer and closer to her, until it stood a meter away from her, a macabre specter indeed. Curiously, it was not dripping wet, despite floating out of Talou Lake. “Do you want Lola’s necklace?” it asked in a voice that sounded overwhelmingly beguiling and sweet.
Reneé felt that retrieving the necklace was her purpose, so without hesitation she replied, “Yes, I want her necklace.”
“Then I must have something in return,” said the cloaked voice in an almost mockingly, musical tone.
Reneé hesitated. The voice was familiar, yet in that moment she could not quite recognize it. She did not know what this meant and alas she asked the more pertinent question, “Who are you?”
The cloaked figure was silent for a moment. Then it spoke slowly, no hint of mirth in its voice, "Who I am is not important.”
“What can I offer you in return?” she asked reluctantly. Perhaps all he wanted was money, for that’s what everyone wanted.

"I don't want what you can offer. I merely want seven drops of blood," whispered the cloaked figure. Reneé did not feel at ease with the cloaked figure but she needed that necklace. Soon this would all be over with and perhaps she would never have to see this cloaked figure again.
The cloaked figure strode past her and beckoned her to follow. Reneé trudged through the snow, not knowing what to expect. She stared at the back of the cloaked figure- there was something familiar about its shape but she could not quite put her finger on it.
To her utter surprise, the cloaked figure led her to her own home. As they reached the front door, it raised a finger, gesturing Reneé to remain outside. It then melted into the door as if it were a ghost walking through it, leaving her in the cold as the snow continued to fall around her.
Two minutes later, the cloaked figure appeared through the door. By now, the moon was completely covered by clouds and the light of the stars was such that barely a shadow could be seen. “I put the necklace back where it belongs,” it said in a haunting voice.
Reneé did not say a word. She felt that the cloaked figure spoke the truth, yet there was something out of place and though she did not know what it was, she felt compelled to remain silent. The cloaked figure drifted off into the night, once again beckoning Reneé to follow.
Hours later, they reached Talou lake. Without a glance backwards, the cloaked figure slowly melted into the lake until it fully disappeared. Reneé’s mind warned her not to go into the lake. As she turned around to go home she heard a sound. “Reneé,” a voice whispered. It was a soft voice and its cadence seemed as if it came from under water. She had heard this voice before. Five years had passed but Mark’s voice was a permanent memory. She glanced at the lake  but all she could see was the snow that swirled in the air and floated downwards.
She walked back home in the miserable weather and eventually came upon her front door. She was exhausted, her mind numb with cold. She entered her home, whereupon she climbed into her bed and fell asleep.
It was from this dream that she awoke as the first hour of sunlight passed by. She hoped her sister would be ready to talk to her today. She needed to know more about Mark for his death had been eating at her like a flesh-eating disease for many years. She needed to know if he was truly the rapist that her sister had claimed him to be or was he the man of her memories, the man who thought she was more beautiful than the moon. She quietly went to Lola’s bedroom to talk to her. She knew Lola always woke up early. To her surprise, Lola lay asleep, her face as pale as snow.
As Reneé started to leave her room, she noticed something. Around Lola’s neck was a gold chain with an ivory wolf pendant. It was the necklace she had said Mark ripped off her neck the night he disappeared. Yet more startling, were the seven puncture wounds on her throat ... and in that moment she knew; Mark had come back for her sister.




Imperfect Man

Friday 11 October 2013
      I am a burdened soul. I wish to thrive wholly free but I cannot, for there will always be someone in this world who wishes to enslave me with the tightest of chains. There will always be someone who believes that they are entitled to a part of me. Even in my most liberal moments I must realize that even my happiness is caused by something or someone else and in that I am never free. It seems that my existence is for them and not truly for me. So that begs the question … am I happy? If happiness is sitting in a small room, alone with a heavy heart, then yes I am happy … and if I’m truly this happy, then I’ll never be free.
     When I look into a mirror, the face that stares back at me scares me. It’s not the face of a man who has enjoyed the years pass by but the face of a man who has aged beyond his years and like an intricate drawing, the sadness is etched in his eyes. The tears stay locked away, for my mother once said, “A man does not cry.” In silence I weep, struggling to be a someone for everyone. ..And in trying to be that perfect son, perfect friend, perfect person … I’ve become this imperfect man.
     

     - Unknown

The Message

Tuesday 1 October 2013
The Ouija board has always been an enigma to me. I've heard of people fascinated by its machination, others fearful of it. It is this spectrum of beliefs that has motivated me to enroach upon the subject of the Ouija board.
*For those who do not know what an Ouija board is, it is merely a device used to contact spirits ... apparently. It consists of letters, numbers and a small spinning arrow like 'thing' in the center which supposedly points at certain letters or numbers when a spirit is communicating (planchette).

            It was three days before the start of October when Bobby got around to buying an Ouija board- something he’d always wanted. The idea of communicating with spirits always fascinated him. He lived alone in a modest, one bedroom apartment that he was able to afford with his job as a salesperson at the local bookstore. For a person who lived alone, his apartment was far from what one might expect; his walls were adorned with pictures of family and friends as if they all lived here.
Bobby’s bedroom was a small but comfortable little haven.  In it, there was a closet situated next to the window that afforded Bobby a splendid view of the majestic maple trees that seemed to be prevalent in his neighbourhood. Near the door was a wooden bed that Bobby called home for seven hours every night.
When Bobby brought his Ouija board into his apartment, he immediately felt a sense of excitement. He had questions and he hoped the spirits could give him answers- that is if the Ouija board worked. The Ouija board was a wooden, black masterpiece with the letters and numbers carved in white.  The planchette in the center was a light brown piece that was clearly worn down with age. In each corner of the Ouija board was an odd symbol that Bobby didn’t recognize, yet the symbols gave the board the appearance of being an antique and the scratches sprawled across the board, enhanced its appearance to that of a relic.
 He switched off every light in the house and went to the dining table with his Ouija board.  He placed the Ouija board on the table and lit three candles and placed them behind the Ouija board, the shadows of the flames dancing eerily.  He took a deep breath, whereupon he sat down and placed his hand on the planchette. “I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will,” said Bobby quivering with anticipation.
There was no answer.
“I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will,” he implored again.
Again, there was no answer.
“I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will,” he said sadly for a third time.
This time there was a response. The planchette moved from letter to letter spelling out a message for Bobby. Go to the bedroom. Turn on the lights. Turn off the lights. Turn on the lights. Look under the bed. Look out the window.
“Spirit, who are you and why should I listen to you?” whispered Bobby. The planchette did not move.
“Spirit, who are you and why should I listen to you?” Again the planchette did not move.
“Spirit, who are you and why should I listen to you?” Still the planchette lay still. Bobby was joyous that a spirit had communicated with him but it had left him with instructions that seemed to have no purpose. Nevertheless intrigued, he went towards his bedroom, turned on the lights, then turned them off and then on again. He looked under the bed half-expecting to see something under there but there was nothing. He then looked out the window but saw nothing but the night sky covered by the light of the stars.
He had done what the spirit had asked, but nothing had come of it. Puzzled, he went to bed, intent on using the Ouija board again. After work the next day, he immediately went to his apartment to fiddle with the Ouija board. Once again he lit three candles behind the board and switched off every light in the house. He came back to the table, placed his hand on the planchette like the night before and again implored a spirit to speak to him. “I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will.” The planchette lay still.
“I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will.”
There was no answer.
“I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will,”
This time the planchette moved and it spelled out the message of the spirit communicating with Bobby. Go to the bedroom. Turn on the lights. Turn off the lights. Turn on the lights. Look under the bed. Look out the window.
Bobby was surprised. He thought spiritual contact through an Ouija board was random but this was clearly the spirit from yesterday contacting him again. This time, he did not waste any time in questioning the spirit. He decided to follow the spirit’s instructions immediately, hoping that it would be less reluctant than yesterday to continue communicating with him.
He went to the bedroom, turned on the lights, then turned it off and then on again. He glanced under the bed and out the window and ran back to the table. He placed his hand on the planchette, his heart thudding furiously. “I have followed your instructions, spirit. Why did you ask me to follow these commands?”
The planchette did not move.
“I have followed your instructions, spirit. Why did you ask me to follow these commands?”
Again, the planchette did not move.
“I have followed your instructions, spirit. Why did you ask me to follow these commands?”
Still no answer.
Frustrated, Bobby went to bed, determined to contact the spirit the next night.
Later the next night Bobby set up the Ouija board, placed three lit candles behind it and switched off all the lights. He placed his hand on the planchette, hoping the spirit would communicate with him. “I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will,” he said slowly.
“I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will.”
Still no answer.
“I wish to summon a spirit who will bear me no ill will.”
This time the planchette moved and a message appeared on the board. Go to the bedroom. Turn on the lights. Turn off the lights. Turn on the lights. Look under the bed. Look out the window. Look in the closet. Good night.
Bobby went to his bedroom, switched on the lights, switched off the lights and switched it on again. He looked under the bed and glanced out the window. He then approached the closet and opened its door. It was filled with his clothes but there was nothing there.
Suddenly a man stepped out of the closet, grinning wickedly. “Good night,” he said and then the lights went out.
When Bobby didn’t show for work the next day, his manager called the police.  The police went into his apartment but there was no sign of Bobby. They found Bobby’s Ouija board on the table but thought nothing of it. Perplexed, the police left the apartment, securing it with yellow crime scene tape. As the police officers headed towards the lobby of the apartment, a Detective Morton realized he had left his cell phone on the dining table in Bobby’s apartment. He went back to the apartment and retrieved his cell phone. As he was about to walk away from the dining table, the planchette began to move of its own volition. It spelt out a chilling message, “I’m Bobby. Help me.”

Detective Morton stared at the Ouija board in disbelief. He didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits- let alone communicating with them. Nevertheless he couldn’t deny what he had seen. He trembled nervously, unsure of what to do. He quickly decided that the best thing he could do was to get out of there. As he started to move, another message appeared on the Ouija board, “He’s in the closet.”