Chapter 22

He set up the ladder, and slowly climbed up. Kelly was standing at the edge of the roof, her arms outstretched, a grin permanently plastered on her face. “Kelly.” Mark said, trying not to scare her.

It took him two hours to get his wife off the roof. He almost called the fire department. She wouldn’t wake up, and he couldn’t carry her down a ladder. Instead of continuing to try and force her down, he sat on the roof at her feet, clinging tightly to her calves until she awoke. It was nearly four in the morning when she finally started stirring. Mark was terrified and tear streaked, and when she finally became aware of her situation she sat down with him. He wept hard, and held her, while she slowly looked around and tried to make sense of what had happened. “How did I get on the roof?”

“I don’t know, you were sleepwalking.” Mark had decided never to tell her that she had been consumed by a curse like a demon. Never tell her that she scaled the building like a demon. He involuntarily shuddered. She pressed her lips tight together but didn’t demand he explain, thankfully.

“Mark, I want you to go talk to the dollhouse guy again and see if we can do anything else. He seemed to be the most educated about this particular problem. And I believe you now.” she said, being the third person in their family to be on the roof in just a short few days.

He rolled his eyes, “Oh good, you believe me. I’m hoping we can stop it before you break any bones.” Said Mark. He was nervous, thinking about his pregnant wife snapping. Would the baby be cursed? Would it snap a bone inside his wife’s belly?

“I’m more concerned about the part of the curse where we kill each other.” Said Kelly, and then, she climbed down the ladder. Her movements were resolute, and she trembled slightly. Mark had been trying to avoid that thought.

What if he killed the things he loved?

He didn’t going to work that day, instead driving back to Mr. Vladimir’s home. This time he went at a respectable hour, Kelly’s idea. And it was nearly ten in the morning when he got there.

He knocked on the door and despite being able to see Mr. Vladimir in the window, there was no answer. He knocked again, more forcefully this time. Again Mark was left standing alone in front of the door.

Finally he shouted, hoping that someone would hear him “I am not leaving until you talk to me about the curse!” At that Mr. Vladimir finally opened the door.

But not all the way, he only opened it a crack. “Go away. I can’t help you. I don’t want to catch it from you.”

“Tell me what I can do to stop it.” Mark said, fear running through him in a cold wave.

“You can’t.” Mr. Vladimir said. And he started to close the door again.

But Mark put his foot in the way. “Tell me.”

“There is nothing you can do.” Mr. Vladimir hissed. “If you don’t leave I’ll call the police.”

Mr. Vladimir slammed the door. Mark cringed as the wooden door smashed his foot. He body slammed the door and pulled his boot out. The door clicked shut, nothing more he could do now. He trudged back to his truck angrily, fists clenched. But before he climbed inside he saw the little yellow bug. This, this he thought was the witch’s car. He took down her license plate. He was hoping he could look her up and find out more information about her.

He hated to go home to Kelly and tell her what happened. He was a failure, and he had gotten their family cursed.