The Horror You Inspire

The days changed like you wouldn't believe.
When he was here, the grass was green, the flowers were pink, & the night was so bright.
Life had sunshine & smiles, and all those things us pessimist's despise.
Home wasn't like it used to be, because a house was never home, & he was never really planted like the flowers that lead up to their house.
He was home, and anywhere they went, as long as they were together, they were home.
There is, in fact, no place like it.
After he died, everything suddenly lost taste, like he had taken it with him.
So, she had to become friendly with the darkness and all sorts of scum, like the sewer rats & the Venus fly traps that she thought sometimes talked to her.
She had become comfortably numb.
All the animals spoke highly of him, and they only really fear the Seventh Son, his offspring.
It wasn't quite prophecy, but his rage & evil were predicted not long ago; regardless, she ignored it for as long as she could, because ignorance is bliss, right?


8. Chapter 7

"That ouija stuff" he says. 

"How long has he been dead?" Maybelyn asks. 

"Seven years, but it's like he's still here sometimes, I can feel him" he replies.

"You know he could turn into something that isn't your son throughout the course of these seven years" Maybelyn tries to explain. 

"I just want to see my son, please" he begs. 

"Okay..." Maybelyn sighs. 

"I read online you have to be in the place they died, and if you can't, an earthly possession that they left behind that their spirit could be attached to" he explains and digs through a briefcase to pull out a set of dog tags, and Maybelyn is immediately terrified because she knows there's a rotten chance he's going to be a vengeful spirit if he was in the army, it's an odd, PTSD incident that usually drives them to their death, and they sometimes stick in that rut. 

Maybelyn ultimately wishes that we would take care of our veterans, because people serving our country need a lot more care than they get, which would help adios situations like suicide and death from war-related pressure. 

"This might be very complicated, but please remember, the spirit we summon might not be your son anymore" Maybelyn warns. 

"No, it'll be him. I'll be fine, I just want to speak with my son" he insists, and she grudgingly agrees. 

Retrieving her ouija board from a corner cabinet, Maybelyn sees Mitchell observing the session, and she hopes everything will go alright. 

Maybelyn takes all the necessary steps to setting up the board, and hopes she did it quick enough for Quentin not to see, so he doesn't try it himself, but he could always use the internet like he did before. 

"The tags?" Maybelyn asks. 

Quentin lays the tags on the table and Maybelyn positions them correctly and begins. 

"Your sons name is?" Maybelyn asks. 

"Jamal" Quentin replies. 

"Jamal. My name is Maybelyn, I am a medium. Your father has consulted me on matters of communicating with you, so if you'd be so kind as to reply, we would appreciate it" Maybelyn explains softly. 

The planchette slides to the "yes" and Quentin's breath hitches. 

"Is there anything you would like to say to your father?" Maybelyn asks. 

At first the planchette stays still, but then it moves to the letters "s, o, r, r, y" and Quentin looks as if he's about to cry. 

"Can you ask him how he actually died?" Quentin asks Maybelyn. 

"Jamal, your father wants to know how you died" Maybelyn states, but before she even finishes her sentence the planchette slides quickly, almost angrily over to "no." 

"Okay then who killed you?" Quentin asks directly as he puts his fingers on the planchette. 

Again, the planchette slides over to "no." 

"Well what can you tell me then?!" Quentin asks angrily. 

The conversation goes on between the father and the spirit of the son, of course Maybelyn being the Medium, she hears and witnesses the whole thing, and is horrified to know some awful truths. 

Seven years ago Quentin Jamal Hester iii came home from a tour in Afghanistan, and he had extreme PTSD, and was experiencing a war reencounter as he went into a grade school and shot and killed 10 children and then himself. 

All the surviving children said they saw a different gunmen, so Jamal, and all those children's deaths were tagged as anonymous murder and investigated for over four years before being given up on. 

Quentin senior had hoped this was not the case, but he was right in assuming it was his son's PTSD. 

Maybelyn swore to never tell a soul what she heard that day, and much like the other customers fears, they haunted her too. 

In the middle of the night she was awoken by gunfire, but she was not in her bedroom anymore, she was in the middle of a valley surrounded by hills and mountains. 

There was yelling and bombs going off and this was just like a war film or any veterans nightmares, except Maybelyn had never been to war, and was only in her nightgown, not understanding a word of what was being shouted at her. 

She thought she had been struck by bullets a few times by now, but Maybelyn couldn't tell what was going on from the moment she got here. 

She realised now more than ever how horrible war had to be and truly how stressful PTSD was. 

Suddenly the men in camouflage were running ahead and she followed, without a clue of what was going on. 

Children were being carried off, separated from their families, animals being killed, and houses being destroyed all around Maybelyn, and it seemed that she couldn't stop any of it. 

A renewed appreciation of warriors was on her mind, but getting out of Jamal's nightmares was Maybelyn's top priority. 

Maybelyn tried everything. Pinching herself, poking herself, stabbing herself, shooting herself, stepping in front of a tank barrel and the blast just went right through her. Theoretically she was there, experiencing the horror, but the only way it was effecting her was mentally and emotionally, otherwise, she didn't feel a thing. 

Maybelyn tried to saw her head off with barbed wire, tried to impale her skull on a native warrior's spear, she laid down in front of a stampede of animals, but nothing got her out of the nightmare land. 

As Maybelyn tried to ignore the disaster around her she thought of what spell this might be and why her son would cast it, because he's the only one who would know how to and the one person who has it out for her. 

Finally coming to a conclusion, Maybelyn whispers to no one in particular, 


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