Vintage Misery: Part Two (special preview)

I just wanted to get out of this town. If Officer Pitbull had any say about it, I was suspect number one. This meant the possibility of him unearthing a slurry of unsavory facts about my family. Facts he could use to connect me to the murder of these two girls, or at least use as excuses.

Beth took me to a twenty-four hour diner so we could talk. The place was quiet, filled with exhausted university students, a few truck drivers, and the two waitresses working the shift. I ordered coffee and waffles, but only because Beth was paying. My bus had already left, I would have to wait another day to leave.

“There’s not much on her I can read,” Neil is sitting beside Beth at the booth. He’s been going through her pockets and small bag. “Just some loose cash and a student ID.”

I was looking at my coffee while he spoke. She could see the creature going into the window last night, but not Neil. It seemed strange.

“I know who you are,” Beth finally said. He small songbird voice warbly and timid. “I’ve read the books your parents have written.”

I swallowed hard, pushing my tongue against my teeth. “Is that why I’m here then? Because you’re a fan of my parents.”

Beth shook her head. “No. I promise you, I’m genuinely asking for your help. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this creature around campus. And if anyone could help us, you must know what you’re doing. Your parents have been all over. The Wakefield house, the Seamstress murders-”

I set down the coffee mug a bit too hard on the table. “I know what my parents have done. That was them. Not me.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “But your card says you perform exorcisms and paranormal investigations. Just like they do.”

“Go back to what you said before,” I said. “You’ve seen the creature around campus before? Why have you not told anyone?”

“I’ve tried, but my sisters call me crazy. They say that there is no way such a thing could exist. But from your parents' books I’ve read that all sorts of phenomena can occur. I suspect this could be some sort of demon, or even a poltergeist.”

I shake my head. “Demons aren’t so easy and poltergeists don’t let themselves get seen. Is this the only strange thing you’ve ever seen? Or has this happened to you before?”

Beth shook her head. “Not that I could recall. Have you seen anything like this?”

I was seven years old when I experienced my first real paranormal phenomenon. My parents had always been good about keeping me away from their work, away from their museum they kept close to the house. Back in those days my mom talked about a lock box or something too, but I never knew what that was.

Anyways, I was seven, I was testing my independence as well as my frustration at my parents for always being away. I snuck into their museum, a treasure trove of artifacts and trophies from their past jobs. I was never allowed there, I knew this, but I didn’t care. I was clutching my teddy bear, the one that I would later equate Neil with. Next thing I knew my dad was dragging me out, my mom was screaming inside, and I never saw that teddy bear again until years later when I discovered they had it locked into a glass box like a fire extinguisher.

The memory of what happened in their museum never came back to me, but afterwards it became apparent to my parents I had a gift. I was able to attract ghosts in a way they hadn’t seen before.

I sighed, pushing my plate aside to where Neil looked at it hungrily. “I missed my bus for this. I need something more concrete to go off of. Your friends were murdered, and I know you’re shaken by this. But I don’t deal with murder in the present tense. I deal with the after effects, the residual hate and spite so powerful it lingers for centuries. I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me to do, or even to look for.”

Beth stared at me, between anger and tears. “But, what about this creature?”

“Then call animal control. Wrap yourselves in garlic, hang crosses over every opening in the house. Call a priest but don’t call me.” I tried to stand up but Beth stopped me. Using one of her crutches to hit me in the leg.