Souls of Ashes

Chapter I

     Christdean stared into the fire as she spoke, and even when she finished, her eyes, reflecting the fiery light as that of Hell, didn’t move. Only when my fiancé spoke did she look up.

     “I suppose I shall go check upon Mother…”

     Even though we weren’t even married yet, she still insisted upon calling Sarah that. And I admired her for it. She had potential, good intensions, and an intelligence that was uncommon for that time. But, like so much else, such was snuffed out before she could fully blossom into something truly miraculous.

     I turned my attention to Christdean once Ellisa left, resisting the urge to follow after her. I wish I hadn’t. I had just barely begun to talk to Christdean again about the symbolism and life-lessons in her little story, before I heard a scream from Ellisa, in the other room, that made my blood almost literally run cold.

     “Israfel!” Her voice was panic-stricken. And, rushing into the room she was at, I found out exactly why. Mother was there, sprawled out on her bed, clothes rumpled. Her neck was twisted awkwardly to one side, twin puncture wounds visible; blood dribbled down and stained the sheets. I knew the shock was evident upon my face, and it was Ellisa to recover first.

     “How could this happen…?” Her voice was still wavering. “Was it a bat? Or--”

     “A witch,” I murmured, completing the sentence for her. And her shock returned, though she still spoke.

     “Then this place must be blessed.” She more stumbled than paced around the small room like some hapless, frightened animal. And she was. “Summon a priest; we must get away from this accursed place right now.”

     “In this weather?” Even then I was the dismal being of harsh logic. “Go if you must, but you are more likely to die of an ailment than a witch if you move into town with it down pouring at is it.”

     “Then we must- we must--”

     “Ellisa.” I made my voice soothing, collected, so as to calm her. Grabbing her wrist, I stopped her mindless pacing, blundering. Vaguely I wondered where Christdean was, but my mind was quickly switched back to the top at hand. “We will go into town tomorrow, but tonight we must remain here.”

     It pained me to say this, I could quite plainly see the tears of fear and sorrow welling up within her deep brown eyes.

     "But Israfel. What will we do with Mother? We can't just leave her here for the wolves; we must bury her in-"

     No, Ellisa." I was swallowing my own fear, trying to subdue the panic and take a hold of the situation. "We must burn the body. The witches' magic might still be present within her, that is the only way to destroy it."

     Before I was done speaking, she gave way to tears. Again, I fought to keep myself under my own control. If I didn’t… this household would be the witches’ playground, and our graveyard.

     Moving next to the bed, my black eyes studied the body of my former mother solemnly. Despite the awkward position she was left in, her face remained the same. Kind, forgiving, loving, perhaps a bit grieved underneath all that. Drawing a deep breath and summoning my strength, I knew this must be done, for her sake. For all our sakes.

     Hefting her up in an over-the-threshold manner, I ignored as best I could the blood smearing onto my arms, my hands, as I carried her out of the room. Ellisa held the door open with one hand, the other balled in a fist over her breast. But I hardly had gotten past her before dropping the poor, dead body of my mother to the floor in my ultimate shock. Lightning flashed outside, thunder boomed, adding to the already obstreperous noise of the rain outside.

     “Ellisa.” She had not yet seen the horrid sight of Christdean, pale as death with those same puncture wounds on her neck, draped over the chair like some un-important rag doll. “Get inside the room, now. Close and lock the door; let nobody in the room unless it is me or I tell you too.”

     “Wait, Israfel--”

     “Go!”

     I could almost see her flinching from my panicked anger, but I cared not. It was for her own safety. Once I heard her do as she was told, slowly I picked up the body of Mother again, moved my own before the fire. The flames were burning cruelly bright, but I knew I must do this. It was the only way.

     Swallowing my fear, the bile that had crawled up in my throat, I folded the body of my mother into that accursed fireplace. Holding my breath against the stench and turning my eyes away from the horrid sight, I stood, moving mechanically over to the still-warm body of my sister.

     Lofting her up, I didn’t place her into our mother’s crematory, instead I placed her into one of her own, in her very room. Quickly I lit up a fire, and somehow got used to the smell of my mother’s burning, charred flesh as soon my own sister was befalling the same fate.

     Standing up and placing a hand over my mouth and nose, in my foolishness I couldn’t help but glance down at my sister in the depths of the fire. A smoking, though still intact arm hung limply out of the accursed flames. Fighting not to cry out I darted from the room, and dared not look at the still-burning remains of my mother as I knocked harshly on the door of her very room.

     “Ellisa please, open the door, it’s--” I stopped as she did indeed allow me entry.

     I heard her gasp at the sight of me, and with good reason. I knew I looked horrid. My short black hair was rumpled, I was sure my face and arms were smeared with both blood and ash. And my eyes, as dark as pitch, were surely as dead and lifeless as my mother’s and sister’s, whom I had burned in their very house, one in their very room. But I cared not for my rugged, dismal appearance. The good thing was that Ellisa was alive and well.