Mixi J. Applebottom's Blog, page 4

Chapter 21

Not an hour later Kelly called frantic. “We’re at the hospital, Coralina broke her arm.” She was breathless, and a man’s low rumbling voice was barely audible for a moment. “Doctor is here, gotta go.” She hung up almost as soon as she called. Mark’s hair was on end. His scalp was prickling, as if his hair was turning gray that very second.

Coralina was stage two, bone snap.

Mark was stage three, blood cry.

Fuck.

Not five minutes later he was in his truck rattling down the road toward the hospital. As he stopped at a red light, he could feel panic brewing in his chest. His heart was pounding in his ears. He glanced to the left, and saw an old lady driving a red car. She pointed at him, miming something frantically. He turned the hand crank on his window, and it screeched down slowly. “What?”

“Your nose is bleeding!” She said, with a horrified look on her face.

He grabbed his nose with his right hand, the one with the broken finger sticking out cockeyed from his face. Blood was already soaking his shirt. He had a terrible sinking feeling that he should not be driving to the hospital, but he be driving to find that witch. Save his family, from the haunting, or curse, or whatever it was. Would she be able to help? The light turned green and he pounded the gas with his foot, terrified that he wouldn’t be able to stop this curse.

They waited in the ER for two hours before finally they set Coralina’s arm. Mark could tell it was broken as soon as he saw it. Her right arm hung at such a crooked angle. This is a curse. She broke it right in the middle, right where her bicep would sit. Mark’s head was pounding behind his eyes so hard he couldn’t think. His girl was whimpering from the pain, and sweating. A large nurse gave her an injection and she went quiet, and goofy. My little girl is cursed. He was grateful for her sedation. They called it a clean break. Coralina said she wasn’t totally sure how it happened, something about tripping. Kelly wept nearly as hard as the little patient. But Mark, he felt like the whole experience was outside himself. His one thought was pounding in his skull. We’ve been cursed.

They drove home, and it was already late, they stopped at Burger King on the way home. Mark spent the last of his paycheck to buy four cold one-dollar hamburgers. It was well past bedtime, and Kelly was falling asleep, and both girls were already snoring by the time he got home.

Kelly climbed up to bed, and Mark tucked in Coralina in her own bed, and Beth in hers. All three of his favorite women were sleeping. He rummaged through the house, grabbing some crackers and a beer. His mind was spinning a web of tangled thoughts so thick that he’d never be able to rest. Coralina broke her arm. He sat down and looked at the books again. He drank one beer, then two beers. They didn’t say anything else, there was nothing else useful here. No secrets left, scrawled in a margin anywhere.

How many people had that’s dollhouse killed? He wondered. He searched for the name Kevin and murder into Google, and he found an article not six months old. Kevin killed his dog, his wife and himself. It didn’t mention his broken toe, so he didn’t know if it was the same Kevin. Why would this man, who apparently had no daughter, own a dollhouse though? He googled Kevin’s name now that he knew the last name, and found his Facebook page. He flipped through the man’s pictures. Most of them were just him and his wife smiling. In one picture, the couple were laying on their couch together, him underneath, her on top. The picture was posted not even a month before the murdering spree. She was laying on top of him, and they were holding hands. She had her tongue stuck out and he was in the middle of the happiest looking laugh Mark had ever seen. What could have ruined this happy couple?

But as he stared at the picture he noticed a mirror over the couch had a familiar shape. Carefully he zoomed in, and he could make out the tiny shingled roof in the reflection. He turned and looked at the dollhouse in his living room, and then looked back at the picture. It was the exact same little diamond pattern. In fact, as he stared, he realized one of the diamonds had a chip. He hopped up and walked carefully around the dollhouse. It didn’t take long to find the exact spot in the roofline that was in the man’s picture. That same tiny chip.

Fuck.

He flipped back through the library books, but he couldn’t find the girl’s name anywhere.

But he didn’t need to. He searched again for Kevin, and at the end of one of the articles there was a link, “is slaughtering families a new problem in the valley?” He clicked the link, and there was another article about a young girl, a teenager who had killed her brother and both her parents. And then herself. Her name was Emily. It said she had a broken leg.

He flipped back through the library books and found her note about her broken leg, right next to Kevin’s note about his broken toe. It had to be her.

The air in the room felt thick, and he was helplessly choking on it, as his chest tightened. Quickly he chugged another beer. Mark’s panic could possibly be stalled by booze. He stared vacantly at the wall. There was a large empty feeling inside him. He was completely numb. He had no way to fight the supernatural. What the hell should he do next? His vacant staring was awakened by a click. The bedroom door just swung shut. He turned and saw Kelly standing at the top of the stairs. She was slowly walking down, almost in a daze. “Kelly?”

He glanced down at his phone, it was nearly 2 AM, he couldn’t believe that he been sitting here thinking about that damn dollhouse this long. When he glanced back up, she was at the bottom of the stairs. “Kelly?” Mark stood to grab her, but she didn’t turn her head, stepping out the front door.

He had this sudden thought that if he followed her he would know how they were getting on the roof. Quickly he slipped on his sandals, and stepped out the door after her.

His heart dropped to his stomach and he suddenly retched. He looked back up, at his wife, scaling the building like a demon, her elbows turned the wrong direction, climbing with a frantic pace. Then she slowly stood on the shingles, and turned and placed her toes at the edge of the roof. She was grinning a wide, terrible smile. She lifted her arms, and took a deep breath.

Kelly scaled the outside of the building.

It scared the fuck out of him.

Chapter 20

He impatiently waited for lunch time. His stomach hurt, and he regretted not eating pancakes. If only he had more than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But also, he needed to call his wife again. Maybe, with any luck she would have read the books, and understand what was going on. Maybe she could talk some sense into him, and tell him he was imagining things. At least they’d be in it together, whatever this was. His lunch would be cut short from his extra long break. He couldn’t dial the phone while he ripped open his sandwich. The broken finger on his right hand suddenly gained his attention as he was tearing the saran wrap off the pb&j. Sleepwalking, then bone break. Fuck. Coralina broken. Her tiny little bones snapped. God he hoped he was wrong.

The thought turned his stomach, and he punched the button to call Kelly. “Hey honey?” He said to his silent wife on the phone. He was starting to worry that she hadn’t actually picked up, because she was so quiet. “Did you read them?”

“Is this some sort of fucking joke? Are you pranking me because I’m pregnant?” There was a ring of hostility in her voice, disbelief running through her veins. She was as angry as he’d ever heard her.

He swallowed nervously, trying to prepare himself to calm her down. “I wish I was. I already was sleepwalking. I broke my finger, and now the nosebleeds.” He said, try to sound very calm. Kelly was a beast when she was angry, and he needed her present and thoughtful, not angry and shouting. “I don’t know if it’s real, I just know that I’m kind of freaked out. I also think I know where the witch is who… Started all of this. What you think?”

“I don’t believe you.” She said, even more hostile sounding. This wasn’t going well. What was he supposed to do now? “Why the hell would you do this to me? Have you been planning this ever since you got this dollhouse?” He could hear her foot tapping the linoleum in the kitchen, with a rapid slap slap sound. “Coralina was sleeping walking, are you trying tell me she is going to break a bone?” Her voice was getting a higher and higher pitch as she shouted.

Mark tugged on his shirt collar. The panicky feeling was starting to choke him. “I don’t know!” He took a deep breath and tried his damndest to collect himself. “Fuck, Kelly, seriously. It’s not a prank. When I went to get the little table leaf, the guy told me he thought we got the cursed dollhouse. He said a lot of weird shit. And I got bored and stopped by the library to check it out. “ He could feel her angry breathing on the phone. “Could you just help me figure out what to do next?” He was met with angry silence. He couldn’t stop himself, he just had to twist the knife. “You do after all have no job.” He said, sarcastic frustration running off his tongue the like the blood running out his nose.

“Oh, I thought it was okay that I didn’t have a job, because, “ She started screaming, “You put a baby inside me!” And she hung up.

Then he was really mad, what an utterly stupid conversation. Coralina was on the roof this morning, and he had been on the roof not just a few nights earlier. Was Coralina gonna snap one of her tiny, perfect bones? He had an immediate vision of her eyesocket crushed, and he gagged. He never finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, opting to let his belly ache with hunger. Why did they have to fight? He dragged his feet back to work, dejected, and confused. Fuck. If his wife wouldn’t help him who would?

Chapter 19

Mark was furious at work. He rarely showed up to work with anger hot in his belly. Mark continue to build the wall of the house, thinking that his wife, and her absolute insistence that she not get a job. It really pissed him off, while he stood there and he worked and he sacrificed. How dare she. He picked up a two by four and started to carry it toward the saw. The board turned red in his arms as his nose started to gush on it. His anger faded into a quiet terror. Kelly having now job was nothing compared to being cursed. He dropped the board, clutching his nose and rushing to the bathroom. The grimy mirror showed his face coated in blood. He quickly scrubbed it, but what started as a drizzle suddenly waterfalled, and he ended up sitting with his head between his knees desperately squeezing his nose shut as a puddle started to form between his legs.

The third stage.

Carolina was on the first stage, sleepwalking. His daughter was cursed. Panic was crawling up his tight chest and pressing on his tongue, begging for a bleat of raw terror to escape. But he bit his lips tight together and closed his eyes tight. Maybe he was just imagining this. Kelly would calm him down, he needed to tell her, so that she could be his voice of reason.

So, he swallowed his anger, and called his wife. While it rang he threw a handful of paper-towels on the ground and started to clean up his blood puddle with his foot. One hand still clutching his nose tightly to keep it from spewing. “Hey, Kelly. I don’t want to fight. I think…”

“I’m pregnant.” She said, interrupting.

“What?” He was so unprepared he slipped in the blood he was wiping up. He twisted, one foot skittering out from under him. He had to let go of his nose to catch himself on the wall. The shock was unbelievable. “You are on the pill!”

“I am, that’s what is pissing me off so much. No part of me wanted a baby right now. I know that you were fine with us having another kid- but now… I just… I want to stay home with this one. I won’t go back to work! I don’t want to work, puking and pregnant gross. I don’t want to clean hotel rooms when my belly is fat and my cankles swollen. It’s not fair.” She said with a loud half-sob threatening to burst free, and he could hear her slamming pots and dishes in the background. “It’s not fucking fair!” And he could hear the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes.

Fuck. How was he going to get her to take him seriously now? “Look, you can say home.” He said, hoping to end the conversation quickly so they could move on to the ‘hey we’ve got a cursed dollhouse’ part of the conversation.

But him relenting just caused serious waterworks. Her bawling was loud, and breathless, with goofy hiccups between sobs. She audibly tried to gather herself and he could picture her taking a breath and wiping her eyes. “Don’t tease me. Do you mean it? I’m sure we can figure it out. I can… I can figure it out.” She lost it again. He could feel the relief in her voice. A loud hiccup made her giggle.

“Yes. I’m excited to have another kid!” He said, trying desperately to sound excited. “Kids are great.” But secretly his stomach was turning, what if he couldn’t take care of three children? Coralina was on the roof this morning, and he had already brought in a cursed dollhouse. What on earth could he do wrong next?

The cycle of abuse.

What if it caught him? How do could he possible break a cycle if it had become supernatural?

“Mark, I know, I know that your terrified about being a dad. We’ve been doing great so far! You’ve been doing fucking great.” Kelly said, through sniffles. As if she instinctively knew that he was already spiraling. He was running lies in his brain of the ways that he was going to fuck up a tiny human. “It’s gonna be okay, but I will figure the budget out. I’ll do whatever it takes. Maybe I could babysit, if we really need? If it’s real tight.”

“Kelly, I have got to talk to you…” But then he glanced at his watch. Fuck, his break was over. “Shit, I gotta go, but… Look at the books under the couch. I think… I think that’s… Our dollhouse. I’m concerned.” And he hung up, without even saying goodbye.

Hopefully she would feel the urgency in his voice, and not just think he was screwing around.

Chapter 18

Kelly cleaned up Coralina, and started making breakfast. Mark’s nose was still bleeding. He went up stairs and stripped off his clothes, turned the shower to hot and the steam filled the room. Once under the muffling sounds of hot water he sobbed. Coralina had almost died. This was all his fault. His uncompromising fears about being a bad father were replaced with the belief that it was too late. He did the best he could do as a father, and even though he tried desperately not to continue the abuse he had grown up with, still his daughters were in incredible danger. They could be permanently harmed by his actions. He wept from the unrelenting guilt, and the overwhelming fear. But then he let his anger grow hard, as he toweled off and prepared to face the day, and his wife.

How he was going to talk to Kelly about this very serious development? Maybe they really were cursed, or haunted. It was the first moment that it seemed real. The stages, that seemed like coincidences, were now prominently waving in his face.

He was terrified that Coralina might be in the middle of it. Would her bones break? A shudder ran down his spine the moment he thought it.

“Kelly? Can I talk to you about something?” He said, when he came and sat down. It was still only six in the morning and he had a little bit of time before had to go to work. Kelly was in the middle of making pancakes.

“Is this about my job again? I told you I’m not going to get a new one. I’m staying home. You can’t stop me.” She said slamming down her spatula.

Immediately Mark was furious, his misplaced anger overwhelming his brain. His heart was pounding in his eyes, they were slanted little slits of fury at her. “You have to get a job! But that’s besides the point, I was trying to talk to you about…”

But she charged at him, “I do fucking not. And you can’t make me. I will do what I want.” Then she whirled her cocky little head around, so her back was to him. Anger bouncing between them like a energizing game of ping pong. She started scrubbing a pot, with furious big long strokes. Water was flinging up in little tiny dots all over the house. As she slammed the pot down into the suds, they let out a cry of steamy little anger.

“Geez, that’s not even what I was trying to talk to you about! Fuck. Why do you have to be like this! If you like eating we have to work. But whatever, who cares. Eating doesn’t matter. Does it? You being jobless screws our finances.” He grabbed his wallet and held it in front of his crotch and pretended to ride it. “Look I’m Kelly I just fucked our finances.” Then he threw it on the ground and stomped on it. “Get a job, if you want us to eat. That is how this works. That is the reason we work.” Mark shouted, stomping on his own wallet while his wife stared at her.

Just then Beth stepped into the room, her tiny little mouth in a circle. “You don’t like it?” She whimpered, and immediately started to cry.

It was then, that Mark remembered she gave him the wallet for his birthday. “Fuck. Beth, no… I…” He clenched his fists and glared at his wife. This was her fault, he was sure. He picked up the wallet and shoved it back in his pocket. “I saw a spider.” He swallowed, staring at her upset eyes and she nodded slowly.

“Okay.” She said, with a sniffle, and stepped back out of the room to the dollhouse.

Kelly was silent, furiously scrubbing the pot refusing to speak to him. A moment later she set a pile of pancakes on the table and said, “food is ready.” She said it with a soft sneer, a laced threat. Like: we are eating, so maybe I don’t need a job.

He slammed the front door on the way out, his belly empty of pancakes. Anger was throbbing in his chest, and he never even told her that he thought they were cursed.

Chapter 17

Mark drove like a maniac, his car scampering across the road like a drunk puppy. The wheels barely could keep their footing on the ground he was swerving so quickly through the streets. When he got to the house, he could see Kelly was standing at the base of the house, her hands in the air, her body drenched in sweat. She was trembling from head to toe, “Coralina, wake up. This is your mother. Wake up!”  Her hands were outstretched as if she was prepared to catch Coralina.

Coralina was standing exactly where Mark had stood just the other night. Her eyes were shut, and her arms were spread out in the shape of a cross. Her toes were on the edge of the roof, one step forwards and she would fall to her death Kelly was terrified to move. But Mark was all action, grabbing the ladder from the garage as quickly as he could. He shouted to Kelly, “keep talking to her.”

Kelly had tears streaming down her face from the terror raging inside her. Kelly let out a sharp “No!” as Coralina swayed suddenly forwards.  But she didn’t fall, instead just rocking back until she was still again. He got the ladder and climbed up it in a frantic rush. And he grabbed Carolina, screaming, “I’ve got her! I’ve got her Kelly.” He sat her down next to him on the roof and he burst into tears. Kelly didn’t climb up the ladder, but he could hear her shouting from below.

“Can you carry her down the ladder? Let’s get her off the roof.” Kelly still sounded terrified, like her eyes and heart had not been fully convinced of Carolina safety yet.

“Okay, just a minute. She’s not awake yet.” Said Mark. He carefully picked up the girl holding her tight hugging her to his chest. She barely responded, but eventually started hugging him back. “Coralina, hang on tight and I can get us down.” He wasn’t sure she is awake or not but her grip tightened significantly. Slowly and carefully he climbed down the ladder with her on his chest squeezing him. When he got to the bottom he handed her to Kelly. Kelly let out a terrible scream.

Coralina was covered in blood. It was smeared across her neck, and down the front of her light pink nightgown. Mark was startled, even horrified to see it. “But she was fine up there!” He ran his fingers frantically through his hair, staring at her.  She was blinking and rubbing her eyes. Coralina was the next one to talk, “daddy you are bleeding.”

Kelly turned to stare at him, and then back at Coralina.  She turned to Mark, “Your nose is gushing blood.”

The third stage.

Chapter 16

It was only 4 AM, but he got into his red truck and turned the key.

The engine screamed, reluctant to start up at such an early hour. But eventually, it rumbled to life. He drove immediately to Mr. Vladimir’s house. There were so many coincidences happening he couldn’t deny that something was going on, and he wanted a better explanation. If this dollhouse was cursed, and Mr. Vladimir made it, then he should know how to stop it. So he drove and he sat in the perfect driveway the expensive house. Then he turned off the truck and wondered what the hell he was doing there. He had questions, but it was more than just he had questions, he had problems. How many stages until he started killing?

He had broken a bone, he was having nightmares and sleepwalking – but there were more stages before he murdered anyone. Wasn’t crying blood next, then fury or something?

If this dollhouse was cursed, by a witch, then where was the witch? He didn’t particularly believe in the paranormal, but he didn’t have to. If he could convince the witch to fix the damn problem for him, then this would be over.

While he sat, trying to make sense of this situation, he heard shouting from inside of the house. And he stood and waited, rolling down his window and straining to hear the words.

“How many families must you ruin mother! I know you are mad at dad, but now innocent people are caught up in this curse. It’s disgusting! You can’t stay here any longer.” The could hear Mr. Vladimir’s voice carrying out into the night. He saw some lights flicker, as of the two of them were striding through the house turning lights on and off as they walked. He didn’t hear the lady replied, not with words, but with a painful screech. The front door clattered open, and out snarled an old lady. She was carrying a bag that looked awfully like Mary Poppins bag, a cloth carpet bag. Her hair was silver, and chaotically sticking out everywhere. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. She didn’t even seem to notice them, hopping in her own yellow car, and squealing down the road. Mr. Vladimir never came outside.

After she squealed away he turned his truck back on. And he followed her down the road. Surely, if there was a witch, it was her. He wasn’t following very closely, because he wasn’t totally sure what he was doing. Was he about to confront her? He kept her in his sight the entire time. It was an easy task, because at four in the morning there were not many cars on the road. He followed at a leisurely pace so as not to be too suspicious. She was driving out to the woods, a place had been many times with his wife, with his child, and with his own father. It was one of his favorite places to hunt. The woods were thick and full of animals to hunt, deer, rabbits, and apparently witches. When she turned onto a scraggly dirt road he pulled over and turned off his truck.

He was 100% certain if he followed her down that road she would know he was following her, and he was already concerned that she suspected. But it didn’t matter, there were only a few cabins down that road. And if he wanted to find her later it wouldn’t be hard. Especially not for an expert hunter like him. He wished he had brought his rifle.

Did he really intend to shoot her?

The thought sobered him. And his cell rang. The noise pierced his ears and quickened his heart. It was only 4:30am, why was Kelly calling? He answered.

She said, “Where the fuck are you? Coralina is on the roof, I need your help.”

Chapter 15

Mark awoke in a cold sweat, he knew he had been dreaming but he wasn’t sure of what.

He was certain he wasn’t in his bed.

In his hands was something cold, slowly growing warm with the warmth of his own fingers. It was familiar.

He felt foggy like he wasn’t fully awake, but he wasn’t fully sleeping.

He swallowed twice and fidgeted. There was something pressed tight against his eye, and he could see Kelly laying in bed in front of them. For a moment he thought to himself he had just gotten out of bed and was standing at the end of the bed staring at her. His finger felt strange, itchy or something. There was tension all through his body, and he was almost trembling with the effort.

He sniffed, slightly wondering if he had a cold. And then he blinked, sweat rolling into his eyelid. Then he adjusted the rifle against his eyes again, aiming it at his wife.

His finger was resting, but he had this feeling that if he shot now she would never even wake up. At least he thought that’s what he is waiting for… Her to wake up.

She fidgeted slightly, and he were was reminded instantly of a fawn in the forest. And how he wouldn’t shoot the mothers and babies, but if a male walked by just pull that trigger like it was nothing. She turned to slightly, and her exposed breast was pointing at him. One pull of the trigger, and then she’d be gone.

He could almost envision the bullet piercing her ribs. There was something amazing about hunting, something carnal and human about it. Sweat was dripping as he blinked a couple of times and reached up with one hand rubbing his face. He opened his eyes and he realized he was pointing a gun at his wife.

Terror shuddered in his heart. He dry heaved twice, but, at least it couldn’t have been loaded. He never left guns loaded. How did he even get it out of the gun safe, in his sleep? Did he turn the combination lock in his sleep? His mind was buzzing. He quickly checked the gun, and two fat bullets were in the gun.

And he nearly shit himself.

Chapter 14

Maybe she was tired after cooking all that food, but his wife went to sleep, sound and steady. He wasn’t particularly sure. Mark was wide awake though, his mind buzzing with the idea of a curse. He crawled out of bed though, and sat at the dining room table dollhouse was sitting in the living room just on the other side of him.

He looked at the two books he had checked out. One was titled Comphrending Curses. The Comphrending Curses book, was the one with Kevin’s tight scrawl, and the girly writing of a teenage girl wildly in love.

The other was a thin yellow paperback entitled, Modern Witchcraft. The yellow book was particularly faded, and discolored. If this book was modern, it had been modern eight or more years ago. As he thumbed through the pages he noticed a bookmark. It said, “Owl always read” and had a picture of and owl on it. Standard library bookmarks.

He flipped through it again pausing at the bookmark. There was Kevin’s weird scrawl, and the perfect neat handwriting with teenage girl on the side of the page. He looked at the passage, and it was written about like a dictionary. It said Abel’s curse: this curse tends to be attached to an object. It requires the blood of a witch, and a passionate incantation. This incantation is not available at this time. This results in a cursed object. Anyone who invites the object into their home, and activates it, will receive the seven symptoms of the curse.

Sleepwalking

broken bone

crying blood

fury

pleasure

fear

execution

Mark compared to the seven symptoms on the list to the one that were written on the slip of paper. They were similar, nearly the same – somehow this felt more ominious than if they had been totally unrelated to eachother. Bone snap- broken bone. Crying blood- Blood cry. That was next. What would it mean?

Underneath the symptom list – was a small notation in italics. This curse has no known cure at this time. To destroy a cursed object see page 98.

The girl’s writing on the side said, “All is lost.”

And Kevin’s reply: Fuck you.

Quickly Mark flipped to page 98. The book was terse and useless. Destruction of accursed object: destroying a curse that object is not known at this time. It appears to be more difficult than anticipated.

And in Kevin’s scrawl he wrote – things that do not work; fire, dismantling, eating, hitting with the car, leaving at a thrift store, leaving on the porch, no known way to get rid of the dollhouse.

And in the perfect, girly font – she wrote: I have tried, I have failed.

Mark wondered if he should add anything to this book.

The second book, entitled Comprehending Curses. And it was hard back, leather, and worn. One of the pages fell out when he turned it. He carefully slid it back in place, and flipped forward. There was a bookmark in place. This one said, “I love books” and had a picture of glasses. The first thing he saw was Kevin’s script on the side. “Tried it. Don’t bother.” With a small, neat arrow pointing at a sentance. This book was written in big solid paragraphs, not in easy dictionary format like the other book. It would be easy to loose his place in the sea of words on the page. Mark had never been a good reader, anyways, so he would have never found what he was looking for without Kevin’s helpful note.

To get rid of a curse you must cleanse your soul. You will need the branch of a young sapling, oak, a virgin’s blood. Place the blood on the branch, and whip your skin until the blood between the virgin and the cursed has mixed. Incantation: I’m not worthy. I deserve to be cursed. So I beg for mercy.” This must be recited twelve times while facing the equator.

The girl wrote

I am a virgin. This sounds idiotic. If my blood could save me, I wouldn’t be so filled with fury right now. Three stages left for me. But I’ll kill myself before I ever get to the last one. I can’t risk it.”

There was no way Mark was going to hit himself with a branch.

He was he was sure if he was just getting spooked, and freaked out – or if something real was happening. Something… Otherworldly. He didn’t believe in God, or demons or ghosts. So strange to sit here and read a book about a witch and spells. The closest he had ever felt to something godly, was when he pulled that trigger and dropped the buck. While his father cheered. There is something magical about standing in the forest, becoming nature. The wait, and then righteously taking the life of something delicious. The most feral, human thing he could think of. The most godly.

Reading about curses made no sense. His broken finger, and his violent nightmares, even the terrifying sleepwalking, it still seemed unreal. Like he was staring into a fantasy world. How could Mark come to terms with the idea that he was truly cursed. Maybe if he got to the next stage. But then he’d only be one stage before the girl, and she, she would rather kill herself than get to the final stage.

He turned and looked at the dollhouse, and it just looked like a toy. He didn’t feel ominous or real or scary. Mark turned back and looked at the book. He wondered if it was hogwash. He flipped through Comprehending Curses and he found Abel’s curse.

It took him a while he was flipping through pages kind of mindlessly, it wasn’t totally sure what he was looking for. There it was on one of the pages that slightly loose. Abel’s curse. He wasn’t sure if there had been a bookmark here at some point, but what stopped him was he saw Kevin’s scrawl. Here is the curse. Don’t curse any other objects!

The girls handwriting was suspiciously missing. Had she killed herself? And there was the curse, written out with explicit instructions on how to create a cursed object that cause someone to go through the seven stages. As soon as he stared at it he felt the urge to test it, but he didn’t have the blood of a witch. Unless he was a witch and never knew. But as he stared at it his stomach started to drop harder and harder. Until he was sure, just absolutely sure it was hanging outside of him between his legs.

He didn’t look down, because he didn’t want to know. What if it was true? What if he was going mad?

What if he ripped up this page and then no one would ever be able to make Abel’s curse again? And he stared at the curse and felt almost compelled. And with a quick terrified motion he slammed the book shut. Grabbed both books and shoved them under the couch. When he ran up the stairs and climbed into bed. Curled up tight to his warm wife. He closed his eyes and desperately prayed for sleep.

Chapter 13

He drove himself to the nearby grocery store. He was definitely not going to go to the ER, or even the doctor. It was just a broken finger after all. It hurt like fuck, but the bone wasn’t jammed through the skin. “Fuck fuck, fuck.” Mark muttered as he carefully pulled on his finger. A loud cracking pop happened, and then it straightened. The pain lessened immediately, even as the swelling increased.

He couldn’t decide if this was coincidence – or if something else was going on. That crazy old man had messed with his head. Could this dollhouse have a fucking curse? Mark swallowed his disgust, what kind of father would bring home a fucking cursed object? At the grocery store he got a finger splint, and wrapped his finger tightly to prevent it swelling further. He’d broken a finger before, so he had a a pretty good idea how to take care of it. Now he was perpetually flipping people off with his right hand. Good, he was pissed anyways, and subtly flipping off the entire world seemed fitting. When he climbed back into the car he considered where to go next. He couldn’t quite go home yet, since it was still a little too early.

Curiousity took the best of him and he decided to stop by the library before he went home. He threw back painkiller. Maybe he could find out if there was any book about this curse, and the weird fucking note. His mood was sour, and he wasn’t even sure he believed any of it anymore. Sleepwalking and a broken finger could be one hell of a coincidence. Plus, his finger hurt, and he didn’t really give a shit. He looked at the little scrap of paper in his hand: Abel’s curse. Sounded like the world’s dumbest prank was being pulled on him.

He went into the library and he almost went to the computer to try to figure it out himself, but he barely knew how to use those things. So instead, he asked the librarian who was sitting at her desk annoyed. “I’m trying to look up something called Abel’s curse, do you have a book on it or anything?”

She frowned. “It seems like every few months someone’s asking me about the Abel’s curse. Did you get a dollhouse?”

“What?” He said, completely embarrassed. She knew about the dollhouse? Or was this just a coincidence thing? Did Vladimir tell all his customers they had the curse? Maybe just like to freak people out. Mark coughed, and then said, “Do you have any books about it or not?”

The librarian rolled her eyes. She came back with a stack of books 10 minutes later. “Good luck.” She said.

He took the books to the nearby table. They were already bookmarked, which made flipping to each section easy. Four books, four sections about the Abel’s curse. Two of these books were almost exactly restated from one another, and they didn’t include much information at all. “Abel’s curse is a curse upon an object that contains seven stages ending in death. Typically the death includes murder and suicide.”

The text between the two books was nearly identical. It seemed strange him the two books would even bother mentioning the Abel’s curse. It was virtually no information, useless. He flipped open the third book, and it didn’t particularly have much more information. But there was a hand written scrawl next to the section, “I already have sleepwalking, a broken leg and the bloody nose. Is there any way to stop it?”

The handwriting was in young girlish scrawled. It looked like the kind of thing that should be covered with hearts, and funny little notes to a boy. There was a drop of blood directly below the note. Possibly from a nosebleed?

Underneath her note was a second note in tight tiny capital letters. “I have sleepwalking and a broken toe.” This one had a name written directly underneath it, Kevin.

His phone buzzed, and his pocket. And he realized time had been flying. He was late now, and Kelly was surely getting frustrated. “I want to check this two books out,” Indicating the one he hadn’t even looked at yet, and the one with the handwritten notes.

“Do you even have a library card?”

“I… I guess I’ll need one.” He said. He filled out the forms, his broken finger causing his writing to look even more terrible than normal. Subtly, he checked his nose to see if it was bleeding, but it was not. Eventually, he managed to check out the two books.

“Look, I don’t know what you guys all have been getting into. But make sure you return these books on time.”

Grabbed the two books through them in his truck and drove home. By the time he arrived Kelly was in the middle of making dinner. She had made his favorite, spaghetti with actual meatballs. And the whole loaf of garlic bread, fresh bread that she had baked herself. And a side salad. It was a feast.

“No chicken nuggets?” He said.

“I just want to give you a taste of what life would be like if you let me stay home. I want to stay home. I don’t want to go get another crappy job.” She said.

He felt a longing inside his soul to give his wife exactly what she wanted. But the reality was that they couldn’t even eat like this now. Much less when she stayed home, there would be less money, less food, more Ramen. But he tried to enjoy the feast. But in the back of his mind he was wondering when he could look at those two library books more closely. Abel’s curse, had he caught it?

Chapter 12

He drove to a park, and sat and opened his lunch box. It was just a sad looking peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Mark stared at the kids playing at the park, and thought to himself that he should be either at work or playing with his own children of the park. He was an idiot, sitting here by himself. And yet, and yet he kept looking at this note. It was strange that he was sleepwalking. He had never sleepwalked before, not in his entire life.

But strange didn’t mean dangerous. Coincidence did not equal being hunted, or cursed or whatever this was. It just wasn’t the same thing.

There was a young girl playing on the monkey bars. But otherwise the park was empty, it looked like she must’ve walked there by herself. She had absent parents, and he knew the feeling. He knew what it was like to take yourself to the park because your parents wouldn’t do it. And how you go to the park, because there was nothing else to do. And because leaving the house was better than staying home. Safer than staying home.

He thought about one of the times he had gone out hunting with his father. And his dad got drunk, like he always did. And they would sit in the quiet, it was one of the few times he and his dad really got along. Because they didn’t say anything, they just sat and waited for something to come along so they could kill it. Anyways, this time, since his dad was too drunk to aim anymore, he told Mark to shoot the buck. He vividly remembered lining up the gun, while his dad dozed. A large buck wandered into view, and he took his time, holding the gun exactly straight. Sweat pouring down his face. The intense desire to chicken out was running through his frightened little seven year old body. But then, with a snort, his dad woke, and gently clapped his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Pull the trigger.” He hissed, in a slow, slurred, drunken noise.

The gun fired loud. He’d never forget the way the gun pounded into his shoulder. He got it. The buck fell. And for a rare, special moment, both son and father were happy together. He still liked hunting, it was one of the few delightful memories that he and his dad shared. He had already taken Beth and Caralina many times, trying to recreate his happiest childhood memory with his own kids.

He mindlessly munched his sandwich as he remembered, and a big black form caught his eye. He looked up, and a big black dog was running toward the playground. It looked like a pitbull, and it was running like it’s tail was on fire. His teeth were bared and he was barking. And that little kid, the one who had nobody was climbing across the monkey bars. The dog was going for her. Mark hopped out of his truck quickly, and started to run forwards towards the girl on the monkey bars. She was struggling to hold herself in the air as the dog came closer, and he was about to see her be mauled. Mark let out a scream of terror, “look out!” He said. And he tried to jump over a little park bench.

But he floundered, his toe catching on the back of the bench and he collided into the ground. He was back on his feet in a heartbeat, trying to race for the girl. He was too late. She looked at Mark, then dropped, landing on her feet. The enormous black dog immediately knocked her down. She let out a squeal, screaming. And Mark charged towards her, but the dog just licked her face.

Mark’s heart was pounding as he absorbed the scene. He wasn’t hurting her. Fuck that was scary. Mark turned and limped back to his truck. He’d skinned both his knees when he fell in his leg was hurting. But when he turned to open the car door he realized his middle finger was twisted at the wrong angle. It was only then that he realized he had broken it.

Frantically he checked the note:

Bone Snap: The second stage.