Dedicated to Redwolf_72
EZRA'S HOME WAS'NT WHAT I had expected it to be. It was darkened by the shades of large old trees. The air was cool, damp and mystified. It probably rained a lot in this part of the town. The neighbourhood was deathly quiet and was inhabited by few similarly built houses and large silver barked trees.
His moderately sized house looked well furnished even if it was ancient. The colour of the walls were fading. I rang the old fashioned bell once again. The door opened and a solemn faced Ezra let me into a rather dusty living room. The interior of the house was decorated with modern furniture in various shades of dark green, grey and ebony. Carefully I sat myself on a grey sofa that wasn't accumulated by layers of dust.
"You should clean this place up," I told him, looking challengingly into his golden eyes. He looked noticeably surprised at my unexpected question.
"Y-Yeah, sure. Well, I don't get enough time," He answered unsteadily, deliberately avoiding my gaze. An awkward silence followed. The clock above me,on the wall, ticked noisily causing my heart to beat louder with each annoying tick. There was a huge framed picture on the wall. A young pretty woman had her arms draped over a rebellious looking boy of about twelve.
"Um, so why did you call me?" I asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"I am sorry, Allison. I am sorry for frying," He said apologetically as he stared seriously into my eyes. I broke out laughing. Confusion clouded his eyes.
"For frying-" I giggled. I watched amusedly as realisation dawned in his golden eyes. Pink spotted his cheek. He cussed under his breath but so low for my ears to catch up.
"Ugh. For lying. I meant lying," He said, massaging his forehead frustrated.
"So why-?" I asked. His face darkened suddenly. He leant on the sofa.
"I found my parents dead in the bathroom when I was eight. It was such a bloody sight that would always be ingrained in my eyes. Police said they were murdered but left their investigation when no one bothered about it," He sighed. Oh! I didn't know he went through a lot.
"When none of my relatives were willing to take me in, they sent me to an orphanage. Two years in the orphanage was hellish. I turned unmanageable and naughty. So they put me up for foster care. That was when I met her-" He said, as he pointed at the brunette on the large picture. I turned my head to the same picture I had noticed before.
"My foster parent. My mom," He said.
"I don't like talking about it to anyone. And I didn't tell you because I absolutely loathe the sympathetic look that you are giving me right now," He said crossly. It must have been difficult for him to see his parents dead when he was just eight. I couldn't help but feel bad.
"I am sorry," I said sympathetically. He quirked an eyebrow.
"Don't be," He said.
"Well, you still have to be sorry for lying to me. Anyway, you are forgiven," I said bossily, crossing my arms under my chest.
"Really, James?" He smirked.
"Don't call me that!" I huffed.
"I made some lunch. So let's talk while eating," He said as he led me to a small kitchen.
"You made the lunch?" I asked, feigning surprise. I sat on a slightly squeaking chair.
"I don't usually, mom does it. But she is a teacher and she went on a field trip with her students," He said as he placed a clean white plate before me.
"She wanted to meet you so badly," He said. I twirled the strands of spaghetti on my fork.
"Hmmm. Not bad," I commented as I savoured the food. He smiled.
"James?" He called. I was lost in my thoughts thinking of the ingredients he might have added in it to get that inexplicable tanginess which pleasured my tongue.
"Yes," I answered.
"Why are you wearing gloves?" He asked.
"I am feeling cold," I lied with my mouthful of spaghetti.
"James!" He said, not really believing me. I sighed, exasperatedly. He knew me too well.
"Don't freak out when I remove the gloves," I warned as I slowly took it off from each hand. The cool air hit my clammy fingers. Ezra dropped the fork which hit the ceramic plate with a loud chink, splashing sauce everywhere. A look of absolute shock had crossed his usually inexpressible features.
"What the hell!" He exclaimed.
"Calm down! I did warn you," I said slowly and with my gaze steady on each blackened hand. The blackness had pushed past my wrists and was slowly invading my arms. The hands were turning rather scaly like the hide of a reptile.
"Did you dip your hands in a large bucket of black paint or something?" He questioned as he took my hands in his large callous ones. He started scratching at my hideous palms.
"Stop doing that! It's ticklish!" I reprimanded him. He scratched me more intensely. I pulled my hands out of his grasp. He chuckled.
"Did you trying washing it? Is it not going?" He asked concerned.
"If it was, I wouldn't have worn gloves," I snapped.
"When did it appear?" He asked. So, I explained about the macabre nightmare I had in the police car and my newfound inclination to perform cannibalism. And how imagining morbid things withdrew the blackness and later it would grow with more ferocity.
"So do I look tasty to you?" He asked with a teasing glint in his eyes. Yes, very! I can't wait to taste your blood. Salty, tangy, musky and just the way I like.
"I want to mince you and eat you with potatoes," I replied, biting back on a smile.
"Potatoes? Why?" He asked, looking confused.
"Because I love potatoes. Shut up and listen to me, you moron! This is serious," I growled at him. He leant back on his chair, feigning a fearful expression.
"Maybe Jane is trying to take over your body just as she had mentioned," He frowned, inspecting my burnt looking hands again.
"You think so?"
"Hmm. It would be problematic if she takes over your body completely. Your soul will be replaced by hers."
"So what will happen to me?" I asked, slightly fearfully.
"You will disappear."
"Disappear?" I asked astonished.
"Nah, I don't know what will happen to you. But I know it will be absolutely chaotic if she takes over your body. Your soul can never be restored back to your body," He said. I shuddered.
"What should we do?" I asked, my voice wavering.
"Stop this. Jane should be exorcised immediately. We have to complete this investigation," He declared.
"Why are we investigating? Can't you just exercise her right now?" I asked him.
"No, we can't do that before knowing the reason of her revenge and why she is behind you. And it is 'exorcise' by the way," He replied.
"I just want this blackness to disappear," I sighed.
"Hmm. I don't know how to make it disappear. But I think I know how to make it stop from growing," He said. I looked up at him delighted.
"How?"
"This might be difficult. But it's the only solution I can think of," He answered.
"Okay. So which passage from the Bible do you want me to learn. I would do just about anything to get rid of this nuisance," I said almost pleadingly. He sent me a withering glare.
"This is not a passage from the bible. So when you feel like or imagine about drinking blood, just think of a large stone wall," He advised.
"How do I imagine a boring stone wall when I am already thinking about something else- something that I apparently find tempting?" I asked him.
"And that's why it is difficult. But it is the only solution I can think of. Our minds are infinite dimensional. I am sure you can do it, if you attempt to control your thoughts," He said. I sighed. I slipped on my gloves.
"I guess I'll go home now. I have to call Becky from her kindergarten," I told him as I exited his house.
"See you tomorrow," I called out to him.
"Take care, James," He said. I smiled warmly at him.
"You too," I said softly.
Because of school work and my ardent investigation on Jane, it made it hard for me to call Becky from her kindergarten. Mrs Cunningham, Becky's best friend's mother usually dropped her home from school. But today I was thinking of taking her for ice cream.
"Hello, Mrs Cunningham?" I asked through the phone.
"Yes," A smooth feminine voice answered.
"I am Allison, Becky's sister," I said.
"What do you want?" She snapped. How rude!
"Sorry for calling you. But did you happen to call Becky from school?" I asked, trying my hardest not to sound equally rude.
"No. Didn't you know? Your sister is extremely violent. She pushed my Rosie into the fish pond. So, I have stopped picking her up for two weeks now," She answered, her voice sounding distorted through the phone.
"What! And you didn't tell me?" My voice hit higher decibels.
"Why should I?" She replied coolly.
"Because it's your- Wait! So how did she come home for two weeks. She doesn't know the way," I asked.
"Well, I have seen that dark haired woman pick her up," She said before ending the call. The phone beeped in my ear before it slipped from my trembling hands and crashed down to the hard ground.
"What! Dark haired woman?"
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