Chapter 17: The Magical Connection
Harold stood in the entrance way of the shack, taking in all that there was to offer him. Outside the place appeared abysmal, horrid in some cases. The interior resembled that of an old, worn down log cabin. There was a single set of stairs going up to a landing which split off to the right and left; leading to a few rooms. Each wall had been made to look like logs cut freshly from trees, but seemed so ancient. On the very left side of Harold, was a small dining room, with a long oak table, stained with a dark color which had over ten chairs surrounding it. These chairs had high backs, with thick black cushioned seats.
Propped up on the walls, were heads of other animals. They ranged from deer and rabbit to bulls and even mountain lions. At the very far end of this room, a large fireplace made of solid white stone, sat with logs ready for a flame. Holding the mantlepiece up above it, was two columns which had been cemented into the fireplace. The columns both bore etched claw marks, all up and down them in a random pattern. Three windows were placed in the walls of this room, two on the longest wall, and one behind the table, opposite the fireplace. Every window was covered with a thick black drape. To the right of Harold, sat the kitchen complete with mahogany colored cabinets that surrounded the walls, above an old metal sink.
These walls too, mimicked that of the other walls of the building. lining the floors of the stairway and upstairs, sat a formerly white carpet, now covered with thick dust and grime. It was tacked firmly in place. Harold bowed to all the kids, waving his arms to allow them to explore the shack. He waltzed over to the side of the stairs, where a small door stood, latched shut. He looked around quickly then opened it, revealing a small cupboard with different odds and ends. There was a trapdoor on the floor, which looked like a manhole covering with a handle. Once he lifted it off the hole, he was greeted with a rough smell of decay immediately followed with the sound of talking. Once again, Harold looked around, making absolutely sure that no one saw him, then descended the ladder, pulling the covering back over it, after shutting the door.
It was dark for a few seconds, as he continued, slowly lowering himself down. Hilary had already been down here, and from what it sounds, for a while too. She was talking to herself at a rapid pace, jumping around and laughing as well. When Harold finally entered the bottom room, he came across the familiar cauldron and that same woman who always danced like a madman all the time. "Welcome Harold, to our new humble abode!" she said.
It was then that she realized something, shrieking in shock. "WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?!" She yelled out, lunging herself at him; her hands wrapped up in the neck hole of his shirt. "What do you mean?" he replied, lookin down at her. He felt worried; remaining silent nonetheless, so she could continue. "You're supposed to be at the Warburton's residence, picking up Jennifer." Hillary replied. That's when it hit him, "OH! Oh, lord... I'm sorry! I'll head over there now." "You better; and fast!" Hilary's face was locked with shock, before she let go of Harold and returned to the cauldron, leaving him in a dumbfounded state. "May I use your teleporter?" "Of course." she said. "Thanks!" Harold found the same box nearby the cauldron. He slit open his left thumb, dripping blood onto the container; "Take me over to John Johanson's household!" With that the basement dissolved and he was in darkness for a moment, then he appeared at the front door of John's house. He straightened his clothes and hair, then rang the doorbell.
Thank God, he didn't answer me the second I called. He would've opened the door to nobody. Harold thought, staring at the teleporter. He heard the door click, as the handle turned in it's holder. Quickly, Harold stashed the teleporter into his back pocket, and waited as John's face poked around the doorway.
* * * *
Hilary continued to walk around the flaming bowl, stroking her pointy chin and pondering as to what it was trying to say to her. She paced, and paced; getting nowhere and all it did was create an enormous confusion. She groaned angrily, dropping to her butt. Her brain buzzed so hard, that it throbbed. Grasping both sides of her head, Hilary breathed in and out deeply. The only thing that made any sense in the cauldron was that of the Sword of Sacrifice. It all started to come back to her now; her past. It flashed into her brain, like the light from a camera, that lingers in your eyesight.
The sun was beating down on her back, burning it so badly that her skin was raw. Let alone the whip marks that she had just received from her father prior to this very moment. She was ten years old again, laying in the middle of a wheat field. Tears were in her eyes, pouring down her face. Whenever Hilary would just twitch, a gasp would burst out of her, followed by a white hot, flame-like sensation that swept over her back. Today was particularly special because her father had used that board that he grew so fond of, to slap her arms and legs with.
She reached down with both hands, sliding her fingers gingerly over the puncture wounds that took place all the way from her knee down to her angles. The holes oozed blood at a rapid rate, dumping all over the dirt. Hilary sobbed, sliding her hair behind her ears; praying for help from her father. It was to the point where she was fed up with prayer, because no matter how hard she would ask for help, nothing would come. No one would ever save her from who she was supposed to trust. Not a single person even passed a glance in her direction, because they knew how temperamental her father could be.
But here she lay, in a field; wincing every now and then as the excruciating pain would run its course and then subside. "Why daddy? Why do you do this to me? What did I do to deserve such punishment? You're supposed to by MY protector, not the one who I need protection from." She buried her head deep into her knees, only to withdraw it once more, from a sudden jolt of pain which just hit her out of no where. Hilary's spine rattled in retaliation from the wooden plank that just struck it. She turned around; her eyes dropping open and mouth agape. Her father had been standing there, for what seemed like quite a while.
"What're you doing all the way out here sweetie? Trying to hide from dear old pops are ya'?" He smiled, showing off his many rotten teeth. Hilary turned, lifting her hands as she protested for him to stop. "Daddy, I haven't done anything wrong to you! I've never harmed you in any way, nor have I refused to do my chores. Why do you hurt me so?" she asked him. All of her pain could be described in the horrific expression that was on her face at that very moment. Bags had appeared under her eyes, due to lack of sleep. She couldn't even trust him enough to close her eyes for a single moment. Her cheeks were even more sunken now more than ever, which matched her now skeletal arms and legs. "I'm not hurting you sweetie; I am... Merely; protecting you. Now get up!" He said, slapping the nailed board into his left hand.
"N-no." Hilary whispered to the ground. "What was that?" he asked, beating the board more ferociously. "I-I said n-no!" Hilary replied. She stood up, even though her legs begged her not to move. She knew that she had no choice however. Her father looked so livid at this point. He swung the board, cutting the nail directly into her left check. He pulled hard, causing her skin to tear wide open. "OOWWW!" Hilary yelled, as she collapsed. "Her hands shook, while she tried to hold the skin that was hanging from her open wound. The slash was so big that her teeth were exposed all on upper jaw.
"Do you want to refuse me again?" He asked her. She sniffed; teary eyed and depressed, Hilary shook her head at the ground. "That's better, now come with me; I want something to eat and you're the only one who cooks around here." Hilary got to her feet, limping towards their run down house, and as they exited the wheat field, her father kicked her in the back as hard as he could. So hard that blood began to pour from her mouth, and run down from her almost closed up back wounds. She shakily pushed herself back onto her feet, and proceeded to limp into the house from Hell. When her father entered, she took a final glance around their yard, hoping and praying that maybe this time; someone would come and save her. She doubted it, and closed the door, where she was met by a swinging arm, and a cracking of leather across her neck. She cringed, slamming against the door.
"Now make me some eggs Hilary; make em' fast! I'm hungry! You know where I'll be!" She cried and wiped snot from her nose, while walking to the right, to the kitchen/dining room. At the very far end of this room, stood a double burner stove, one black fridge/freezer and two black cupboards above the stove. There was a small metal table, which was propped in the far right corner, with two lawn chairs set up next to it. Garbage littered the floor around this table, and all over the tiled floor in general. Cockroaches scattered as she slid her feet over it, walking to the stove.
Out in the living room, was a single red chair, set behind a glass coffee table. In front of the table was a small black and white T.V. "How long do you think you'll be?" her father asked. A loud burp escaped him, as he scratched his stomach. Hilary, placed both hands on either side of the stove; hatred boiling over on her now. She clenched both hands, forcing a retort to stay back. "In; in a minute Dad!" she yelled back. "Hurry it up! The game's almost on." She cracked open four eggs onto a burner; watching as they bubbled like crazy. Oh how she wished it was her father's face in that skillet. She wanted to see his skin just bubble until it popped.
Behind her at the far end of the dining room, was a dirty window which housed multiple ants. Hilary flipped the eggs, reaching around for the pepper to season them. When she grabbed a hold of a container and pulled it out she gasped, not from the pain. It was rat poison, the highly poisonous kind. Warning: Do NOT swallow product at any time. If consumed, call the poison contact agency immediately. Can cause death. Hilary read the description over and over again. Not being able to contain herself, she crushed up the entire bottle, and dumped them onto her father's eggs, praying that he wouldn't see the difference. After she placed them on an old plate, her back started to tingle.
Once she got out to him, he yanked the plate out of her hands, and beer, then started shoveling the food down. A smile, so evil and yet so innocent was spreading across Hilary's face. Her father noticed this, setting his fork down. She placed the plate down, grunting as her back started to have that needle-like prickling feeling course over her. She felt her back healing itself as it always does. Running to a nearby mirror, Hilary swiped the dust away, staring at the open area on her face. Just as she expected, the skin started to raise itself, and fused back onto her face. She smiled as she grabbed the plate and walked out to her dad.
"What are you so happy about?" he asked her, noticing the grin. She wasn't just happy about the healing but she knew what was to come of her dad. "Nothing Dad; just glad you're alive!" He nodded, then shoveled all the eggs into his mouth. Within seconds they were gone, and he sat there, belching even more. Hilary was so sick and tired of him, her eyes open wide with anger. Why won't he die?! There was a moment of doubt in her mind that anything would stop the monstrosity that was her father, but then the blissful sound of gagging filled her ears. She looked over, watching as he had both hands clasped around his throat. His eyes were full to the brim with fear. He got to his feet, swinging his left arm at her, while still holding his neck with his right. Hilary slid to the side, sticking her left foot out to trip him. He fell, slamming his head into a light stand near the door.
With his left arm reaching and clawing at Hilary's legs, he pulled his head up. And for the first time ever, she saw sadness in his eyes. She squatted down, so that he could get a better look at her. He reached for her face, stroking the smooth skin of her right cheek. "H-Hilary?" he called out to her. "W-why?" Hilary grabbed his hand with both of hers, feeling her heart sink as her father was dying before her eyes. "Dad y-you've been mistreating me all my life, and I j-just couldn't take it anymore!" For some time, she felt bad, but then all of the abuse that he did to her rose up in her brain. Looking down at him with an evil grin now, she nodded. Putting her face up to his left ear she said. "I-hope-you-rot-in-Hell!" She threw his hands down, backing away from him. He gasped loudly, trying to get air to his lungs but couldn't seem to achieve this task. With the last bit of strength that he had; her father looked up one last time then died.
Hilary felt excited; ecstatic; joyous even. A huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, as happiness finally started to fill her empty shell of a body. When she opened the door, a cool breeze met her; welcoming her to the normality of life. When Hilary walked over to the familiar tree which her father loved to beat her at. She stroked the bark, taking in all the beauty that was nature. Birds flew overhead, chirping softly; coinciding with the low whistling wind that caressed the wheat fields. She for once, felt at ease. It was like her life could finally start anew, and that was when she noticed something weird.
Around the other side of the tree, one of the roots seemed out of place. Hilary walked over to it, squatting down to get a better look. It looked as if someone had uprooted it, so that the spot could be used to hide something; hide what though? Hilary thought. She reached down into the crevice that was formed under this root. All she felt was dirt and more roots, occasionally some worms. After some searching her hands came across something smooth. It was a glassy like feeling, stopping her fingers from moving only slightly due to the grease that was on her fingertips. Something sharp cut Hilary's finger, making her yank her arm out fast. The ground began to shake underneath her, so hard that it cracked in multiple spots.
"W-WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Hilary yelled out. The tree was instantly covered with a white flame, burning so hot that her face blistered. The burning went on and on, seemingly endless. Once it stopped, the tree was gone. Instead, there was a pedestal with a small red book resting upon it. She got up, walking slowly towards the tiny book; each step made her heart skip beats. She was up to it now, reaching over to the book; hovering her hands just barely a few inches above it. There was a strange energy that floated around this book. Printed on the front in silver lining was this sign. It was that of a skull which was surrounded by a circle of dots, and it felt so welcoming to Hilary.
A voice in the back of her mind told her it was a bad idea to even come in contact with the book. She ignored it, reached down and placed both hands onto it. Suddenly a burning sensation started to rise up into her arms. She looked over at each arm, watching as her veins pulsed with the energy.Hilary was scared, she tried to release her grip from the book, and failed to do so. All around her, a huge red fire erupted, thrusting her up into the air. She screamed so loud that it echoed across the fields.
Her arms shook while her skin was ripped open with claw marks, starting at her wrists and rising up to her shoulders. She lunged forward, while her spine bubbled and snapped outward, followed by more claw marks; tearing her shirt into shreds. Her head snapped back, exposing her neck which was beading with hot sweat. With the hand she got pricked with, her right, the same symbol was branded into her skin. Then the fire sucked back into the ground, she fell and propped herself up with her left hand.
Hilary breathed heavily, still trying to comprehend exactly what this book had just done to her. Then a voice called out to her; it was a kid's voice. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Hilary darted her head around, seeking the source of the noise. She looked at her arms, as the claw marks almost nearly healed; they were still slightly visible though. The mark on her right hand is what shocked her the most. She placed herself onto her butt, so she could stare at the symbol some more. Her fingers twitched as the searing pain shot out randomly. The voice sounded again, this time it was more dominant.
Hilary's mind went blank as she passed out. When she opened her eyes, she was back in the basement. She grasped her old shirt, covering the burning sensation taking over her chest. The shirt was so raggedy and ripped; making it a marvel that it was still able to be worn. "I'm on my way! Stay upstairs please!" Hilary replied. She set a small book down on the ground, covering it with dirt, for she knew it would be needed later. With that; she ascended the ladder and re-entered the shack that would soon be her new home.