Cemetery Reign

Cemetery Reign

By

Douglas Richard

“Spend the night in a cemetery? No way.”

“Come on,” my best friend, Mercy, said. “It’s Halloween.”

“Don’t be such a chicken,” Darren chimed in.

I bristled at being called a name by Mercy’s new boyfriend. He didn’t even really know me other than what Mercy had told him. I offered him a tight smile and the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t the loser I predicted he was.

“Come on, Lindsey,” Mercy begged, hands locked in prayer, eyes pleading me to go along with what was obviously Darren’s idea.

We sat at a picnic table in the park near my house. Mercy and Darren on one side, me on the other. I pulled my fall jacket tighter around me and watched dry leaves roll, skip, and scratch their way across browning grass.

“Come on,” she urged.

I tucked an errant strand of my hair behind an ear as I gave an inward sigh and reluctantly nodded.

“Excellent!” Mercy said.

I don’t have many other friends, or any really. Mercy was it. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Besties forever. And like that, once again I was the third wheel. Mercy had lots of friends. Movies, concerts, parties, I was always the one tagging along. People seldom paid me much mind. I am small and somewhat mousy, I suppose, unassuming; I hadn’t yet started to develop, unlike my friend. Mercy was blue eyed, blond haired with delicate features and a pert nose peppered with perfect little freckles.

She was also developed. Mostly.

“Linds is the smartest friend, I have,” she said to Darren.

Darren nodded and eyed me up and down as though judging me for some unknown slight. He seemed less than impressed with me. I, for the record, couldn’t care less.

“I’d never have passed any classes if it wasn’t for her,” she gushed.

Probably one of the reasons she friended me, I’d often thought. I help her pull in decent grades, so her folks don’t freak on her head. Still, maybe she just liked me for me.

Darren seemed uninterested and said nothing.

“She’s smart,” she reiterated, letting her words get nearly lost in a high wind.

My mind retains info quite readily. I suppose I am just interested in all things: maths, geography, history, science, English. I am an A plus student, a bookworm and teacher’s pet.

Darren said, “So, Mercy says your mother’s a witch, huh?”

I tensed and blushed at the mention of my mother. “She’s wiccan.” Then, right away, “I’m not my mother.”

Mom is almost always a conversation starter, but I just didn’t want in on the conversation most times.

“I hear she’s really good.”

The way he said and licked his lips made my skin crawl. What did Mercy see in this clown? I wondered. Of course, I knew the answer. She was dating a senior guy, a grade 12 student, football player, plus, he drove his very own sportscar. We were minor niners. I, as her friend, tried to be supportive, but so far, first impressions and all that, the guy seemed the perfect cocky idiot and I wanted to tell him so. Mercy could do better.

“You do anything? Have visions? Anything like that?”

I shook my head.

“You told me she could talk to the dead,” Darren said to Mercy as though I wasn’t there.

“Talk to the dead?” I piped up. “No. That’s not me.”

Mercy gave me another pleading stare. “I said maybe. You can try, right, Linds? Your mom said you have gifts.”

At least now I knew why Mercy wanted me with them in the cemetery tonight. She expected me to put on a show.

“And it’s a full moon,” she said, as though that might sway me. Or like I didn’t already know.

I forced a smile. I possessed nothing of my mother’s supposed abilities or her artistic flair when doing a reading. I am not a believer in what I honestly believed to be nothing more than carefully orchestrated trickery.

“I’m not my mother,” I repeated, meeting Mercy’s gaze and suddenly disliking my friend for putting me in this situation

“Please, Linds.”

“Yeah, Linds,” Dennis said, half smirk.

Ugh. I wanted to scream. Was noting sacred? I had told Mercy about my mother, her beliefs about me, our issues, our fights, how I didn’t believe in the paranormal as my mother did. But that had all been between us. Between friends. Or so I thought.

“Okay.” I relented and instantly gritted my teeth.

Mercy’s face lit up. Nice to see my friend happy at least.

“Mary-El,” Darren said, clasping hands together on the table. “She was a real witch. You know about her?”

I pursed my lips and nodded. Of course, I knew about her. Most people had heard about her in Canton, my hometown. Mary El or Mary Ellis. She was one of several women burned at the stake for witchcraft around here in 1692. Only, according to legend, when her accusers put match to tinder and tongues of flames licked at her body, she never screamed, not once, but instead, turned to black ash in a mere second, leaving a thick whiff of acrid smoke in the air, smoke that smelled of burnt flesh. .

“I figured we’d chat her up tonight,” Darren said breaking into my thoughts. “They say she had mind powers. Power over men and women Made them do her bidding.”

“I know how she controlled the men,” Mercy said.

I saw her eyes go wide and a smile break across her face, the flash of perfect white teeth there for all to see.

“Big boobs.”

Mercy and I both laughed at this. Darren focused on me again.

“I wonder what she might tell us,” he said.

Before I could get dragged into anything more, I said my goodbyes. We agreed to meet at 11 that night in the old part of the cemetery.

When I got home, I found a note from my Mom saying she was working late.

I get a lot of questions about my mother and how she makes extra money. When she’s not working full time as a hairdresser here in town, she also part times as a psychic. Tealeaves? My mom. Tarot? My mom. Palms read? Yep. She even had a crystal ball and everything. I’d even seen her do several séances.

After Mom came home, we ordered pizza and watched a horror movie. A few trick or treaters came by, but like last year and the year before, it seemed less and less people came out. It was near eleven before Mom decided to hit the sack.

Hurriedly, in my room, I smushed a blanket in a knapsack. It would be cool tonight if today was any indication. I then brushed my hair, my teeth and closed my bedroom door as I moved quietly through the upstairs hallway. Within minutes, I was outside and jogging toward the cemetery, knapsack over shoulder.

I strolled in as though I’d done this all the time.

The old part of the graveyard was on a small knoll. Moonlight lit everything in stark grey. I spotted Mercy right away. She was jumping up and down waving me over.

She swept me into a big hug when I made it to her. “You made it, Bestie!”

Darren said, “It’s almost midnight. Thought you weren’t coming. Thought you might have chickened out.”

I bit my lip. I was here for Mercy, I reminded myself.

Around me, so many headstones and nearby what was probably a ground keeper’s shed.

“This is her,” Mercy said, nodding and pointing with a sneaker.

It was a flat piece of granite flush with the ground, engraved words worn, weather beaten. But there was her name: Mary Ellis.

“Why don’t we get started?” Darren said.

I agreed. The sooner I started, the sooner I’d be done.

“Let’s hold hands,” Mercy suggested.

Great!

We sat on cold earth, hands held. Darren’s grip was a little tighter than I really liked.

“Mary Ellis,” I whispered as I let my eyes close. “We are reaching out to you. Are you here with us? Please answer, so you may talk to us from the other side.”

I tried to recall my mother’s words when she spoke to the dead. It never took long to breakthrough.

Even though I hated the idea, and didn’t believe, I had to do this right. Make it look right. For my bestie Mercy.

A light breeze seemed to fill the moment.

Mercy squeezed my hand. This was ridiculous.

“She’s here,” I whispered, trying to sound creepy. I felt nothing. Truth be known, I felt plain silly. “Mary Ellis, can you hear me?”

I shuddered as the wind blew harder and I –

Drew my hands back quick.

I had heard a hungry voice on the breeze.

Power.

Life.

Had no one else heard it? Had I?

Mercy’s smile grew wide. She thought this was an act.

I smiled sheepishly as Darren said, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“She’s not talking right now.”

“This is bogus.” He got up and stretched. “Time to drain the lizard.”

I watched him skulk off.

When Mercy and I were alone, she said, “Try again, okay? When he gets back?”

“I’m not having fun.”

“For me?”

That’s when I heard the words again –

Power.

Life.

I felt them tickle my ear and I turned around

“Let’s go,” I said, starting to rise. “I want to go home now.”

Mercy pulled me back down. “Please, he’ll be back in a second.”

I wondered, not for the first time, if Mercy cared about me or was just using me.

Still, my resolve crumbled, and I sighed. I sighed a lot with Mercy around.

And we waited quietly for Darren to return.

Mercy stood after a couple minutes of silence and looked around the cemetery.

“Darren?”

No answer.

Mercy said, “Not funny. Darren, come on! I mean it!”

I listened, and only heard the passing of a vehicle nearby, and leaves rustling in nearby trees.

Power.

Life.

Those words again. I felt my heart start to race. My hands felt clammy.

Where was Darren?

Mercy looked worried. “Do you think he’s okay?”

I kind of hoped he wasn’t.

“I think we should leave.”

“Not now!” Mercy snapped. “Darren, come on! Not funny.”

The cemetery suddenly seemed to grow incredibly quiet, preternaturally still.

I didn’t feel good. This didn’t feel right.

We both jumped at a primal scream that cut through the cemetery.

I spun toward the direction I thought it had come from. I heard the pounding of feet growing closer.

A wide-eyed Darren burst from the dark shadows cast by the caretaker’s shed.

Mercy screamed as he barreled toward us.

A sliver of moonlight glinted off the edge of the axe he held high.

Maybe because she is my only friend, I feel protective of her and put up with a lot because of my fear of losing her. I instantly pushed her behind me. I’m that kind of person, that kind of friend, I guess.

There wasn’t time to run.

I made fists, took a sideways stance, and locked my legs firm on the ground. I am no fighter but what else could I do? I couldn’t outrun him.

The wind whipped my hair, and a few strands caught on my dry lips.

As he was just about on us, drawing the axe back, preparing to swing, I braced myself to duck and punch out at his groin.

I mumbled, “Stop, stop, stop!”

Darren’s feet slipped on the grass.

I watched him fall hard on his ass and stifled a giggle as I watched it happen.

He cursed. The axe still remained in his grip.

And then he started laughing.

“You two should have seen your faces!” he said as he rose, using the axe handle as a crutch. “Priceless!”

Mercy dropped her hands on her hips. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Glad, I could oblige,” he said as he came closer to her, big grin spread across his face, and planted a peck on the lips.

Then Mercy was laughing, but to my ears it sounded far from genuine.

“I hid the axe out here earlier. And you –“ Darren turned to me. “You shit yourself a bit, I’d bet. And for the record… speaking to the dead is bullshit!.”

“Be nice,” Mercy said.

“Relax, babe. I’m just joking.”

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought of him – I’d had enough! - but I found my gaze drawn instead to Mercy.

I felt thick malevolence sour the air.

Power.

A gust of hot wind suddenly rushed past me and smashed hard into Mercy. I watched her body fly back like a limp doll, and hit the ground with a dull thud.

Life.

Mercy wasn’t moving!

Terrified, I turned to Darren, only to see him walking backwards, eyes wide, shaking his head and then… then, I watched as he turned and sailed over a tombstone; he sprinted across the cemetery.

Of course, he’d leave.

Power.

Life.

Again, those words on the breeze.

The wind whipped up, blowing leaves and grit into the air.

In the moon glow, by Mary-El’s grave marker, I saw what looked like dark ashes rise from the ground, ashes swirling madly. The thick stench of burnt flesh assailed my nostrils and I gagged.

Through the swarming cinders, now towering as tall as me, I could make out a ghostly shape.

Mary-El!

Her long red hair flowed behind her.

She stood naked, flawless skin, tiny waist, perfectly taut breasts; she was stunningly beautiful with piecing blue eyes that suggested deep guarded truths. It was hard to look away.

She stretched out her arms toward me.

Then she was gone.

The ashes flew onto me.

Even as I stumbled back, batting my arms wildly against my attacker, I could feel flecks of ash pelting my lip, flicking in my eyes, flowing up my nostrils.

Still I fought.

But I refused to flee.

Mercy might need help.

My heart felt as though it might slam through my chest as I continued to punch and scratch at what had no real substance.

This wasn’t happening!

I opened my mouth to scream “No” and then the ashes were in my mouth.

I choked and spit, but it was no use.

She entered my mind. I could feel her, her tortured essence settling in –

Mary-El.

Power.

Life.

She wanted mine. I could already feel her sucking oxygen through my nose, my mouth. I heard her ‘gasp’ leave my lips.

Like tentacles, she snapped out to my limbs, my muscles, bones. I felt her move, fast, decisive.

Gritting my teeth, and with much effort, I lifted my arms, gripped my head with both hands and mentally tried to push her out.

I could feel her strength, her will.

She pushed.

I pushed back.

I dropped to my knees, closed my eyes and pushed back even harder. I didn’t feel her weakening any or even feel like her strength might wane.

Within minutes, or what seemed like it, fatigue began to settle in my body. I was only human after all. She wasn’t.

I couldn’t hold her off.

Not for much longer anyway.

My head felt like it might explode.

She was pushing me down, my mind. What would be left of me if I gave up?

She didn’t like me fighting back, this I felt from her.

I heard a loud voice slip in from outside my mind.

Through slitted eyes, I watched a tall figure march up the hill towards me. She was saying something.

I couldn’t make out the words exactly, but the voice I most definitely knew.

“Mom?”

She was chanting, I now knew. The language, I didn’t recognize.

And then I found myself doubled over, hands on my convulsing stomach, coughing, choking and then the ash spewed out between my dry lips and spattered in a flem- coated film on the ground between my feet.

Mary-El had left my body.

Blurry eyed from the retching, I watched the puddle waver in the moonlight as it seemed to slither away.

My mother knelt by me.

“What did you do?” I stammered.

“Are you okay?” she asked, ignoring my question, gently laying her hand on my arm.

“Mercy!”

I broke off from Mom’s touch and ran for my friend.

In several quick strides, I crouched beside Mercy on the grass and gently shook her shoulder, calling her name. Within seconds, she moaned, opened her eyes and blinked up at me.

“What happened?” she asked.

I gave a silent sigh of relief. “You tripped over a headstone silly.” Why tell her the truth? If she didn’t remember, it was probably for the best.

She gave a quick smile, looking around. “Darren?”

Of course, she’d want to know about her bf. Other than a scratch on her forehead, I’d say she seemed mostly unharmed.

Here I would be honest. “He turned out to be a chicken.”

I turned to see Mom, looking our way, hands deep in her jacket pockets. She was very patient.

“I want to go home now,” I told her.

My mother, she didn’t say anything as she led Mercy and I to our respective homes. Mercy, upset, angry, grumbled about Darren leaving her.

When I finally slipped into my bed an hour later, Mom leaned against the door frame to my room. We made eye contact.

“I told you, you have gifts,” she said. “Use them for good. Not to raise the dead. Good night, my sweet girl.”

I wanted to ask her how she found me tonight, how she beat Mary-El, but I figured she’d give me a less than easy response.

I lay there a long time with spells and incantations swirling through my brain. See, when Mary-El entered my mind and tried to take me over, I’d peeked at her mind as well. I was a quick study.

Tomorrow, I thought as I drifted away.

Tomorrow, I bet people would start to notice me.

The End