Ghost of O'Leary House

Chapter Twenty

David sighed as he pressed another cookie onto the pan, flattening the ball of dough into a chunky disc. Here he was, brimming with questions, and his Grandmother was refusing to answer any more of them because she was “tired”. She’d said that she had several plans in motion that he would have to tend to someday, but hadn’t expanded on that idea at all, instead choosing to fish out a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips for the cookies. Now that they were pressing two pans into the oven to be baked at sweltering three-hundred-and-twenty-five degrees, David found himself feeling drawn to going back into his small bedroom to look at the book.

Grandma must have sensed his desire, as she shooed him out of the house once the cookies were ready and ordered him to head down to the pond, as she had a feeling there would be several curious peers waiting for him there.

“What if they want get in a fight?” David asked, looking at her as if she were senile.

“Oh you,” she waved his concerns away. “They’ll have no such desire. The boys that brought the plants into my yard are probably grounded, so you’ll just have the other children there fishing or sunbathing. It may be a little cold out, but some sun would do you wonders David, you’re looking a tad pale.”

“That’s because I’m becoming a witch!” David cried.

“Now young man there is no reason to raise your voice at me,” Grandma snapped at him, causing him to flinch back. “The point of all of this is to get you used to the area so that should you truly move in with me then you’ll know some of the townspeople. We get them out here from time to time.”

“You’ve said that,” David said, growing tired of her word games. “You’ve even said we help them. But what you’ve yet to say is how we help them! What do we do, boil them up some herbal concoction that they can take to ease their worries?”

“If necessary, yes. I’ve brewed several muscle relaxants and sleeping draughts in my day for the weary worker who can’t seem to fall asleep. The recipes are easy enough to learn, but they’re in the book I’m afraid.”

“And you can’t just teach them to me?” David asked.

Grandma shook her head. “No, each witch has to learn what the book deems is valuable to them; my mother learned an assortment of curses and hexes, while I learned what would be called Alchemy by scholars four hundred years ago; who knows what you’ll learn?”

“I don’t like that answer,” David grumbled, heading towards the garage where the motorcycle was stored, Grandma close behind.

“You don’t have to,” Grandma said, a grin evident in her voice. “Now run along and be careful on the roads.”

David’s thoughts turned to the dirty boy he’d seen twice now, and how hostile he’d been. “Is there something I should be looking out for?” David wheedled, trying to ply any information from Grandma while he could.

She remained cheery faced and smiling, shaking her head. “No, but we do have wild dogs that run around sometimes. I would suggest staying away from those as they can be dangerous, if you’re caught unaware.”

“Alright,” David heaved a sigh, throwing his leg over the seat before pumping the handles, moving forward sluggishly. “I’ll be back home in a few hours.”

“Take your time. Try and get to know the kids at the pond.” Grandma called out as David roared down the driveway and out onto the road. Quickly setting a pace to where he was cruising at an easy thirty miles an hour, David began thinking of what he would say to any of the kids if they were down at the pond.

They would easily know of what had happened at Grandma’s house the other night; would they hold it against him? David stared off into the woods as he pulled slightly on the brake, wondering how he was going to explain himself. If anyone was down at the pond, it would be the girls… hopefully they wouldn’t just shriek and run away.

“No,” David muttered under his breath. “How would they know?”

David hopped up off the curb and onto the road to dodge a dirty figure bursting from the tree line, arms swinging. Swerving around him, David recognized him as the strange kid he’d seen the other day. While then he just seemed, a tad touched in the head was now full-blown madness, as he screamed and chased David, swinging his fists as he desperately tried to reach David.

“What’s wrong with you?” David called out, looking over his shoulder as he steadied his bike and sped up.

“Witch! Witch!” The boy bellowed, slowing as he began to lose stamina. “I’ll get you, you damn witch…”

He stopped and huffed over his knees, making noises as if he were going to puke as he rasped for air. His head stayed up, allowing his mad eyes to gaze at David, hatred hanging heavily in the air as the maddened boy cursed and howled after David, in between hacking coughs.

David veered back onto the sidewalk to avoid the rough patches of pavement that made up the road. His mind rattled within his head, making him question everything he knew. Somehow, someway, a person in the outside community knew that David was a blossoming witch. Did he know about the book? Did he know about the specter that lived in the room on the second floor? What would happen now that someone knew about him? Would he be safe?

David continued slowly down towards the trail that broke away from the sidewalk, bumping over the roots and snarls of vegetation as he made his way down the twists and turns towards the pond. David stopped, killing the engine as he heard a soft moan, low and mournful, echo out from the woods. Stopping, he looked around to see what was making that noise. It sounded distant, like a woman crying hundreds of feet away.

Then he looked up into the cold eyes of the Old Woman.

Crinkly hands holding onto the branches of a gnarled oak with red robes billowing out around her, she stared down with dead eyes, glassy and violet as her taut skin pulled tight across her skull, all pulled back by her steel-grey hair held in a bun. She was leaning down, mere feet away from David’s face as she moaned.

“W-what do you want?” He asked, knowing she was the reason his parents were injured, that he was staying with his grandmother longer than the few days originally planned. He felt the ritual knife weighing heavily in his hoodie, growing warm as if it was trying to say it could offer some aid.

One hand, creaking like cracking timber, came forward, the smooth back of the hand running down David’s cheek, fingers trailing a path of tingling ice. The eyes of the old woman drifted low like a leaf on the wind, one long arm holding her up in the boughs of the oak tree while the rest of her body fluttered about, writhing like an octopus stuck on land. David was terrified as her face came closer to his, until he could smell the heady perfume, a mixture of grapefruit and rot, which began to choke him.

“David?” Called out a young voice from the bottom of the trail, causing the old woman to whip about, looking down at someone David couldn’t see. She didn’t turn back around, dissipating into a cloud of fine mist that swirled away on the wind, the scent of grapefruit on the breeze.

Looking down the hillock that he was perched atop, eyes wide, David saw Miley standing at the base in a yellow sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back. She was looking up at David as if he was mad.

Maybe he was.