Jack - English

My Soul

— Arthur! Arthur!

Clara was screaming his name, but there was no one to answer. The house had been abandoned for years, since the incident. No one knew exactly what had happened in that place other than the fire, and each one told different stories. She had arranged to meet Arthur, a friend from college, but he was already half an hour late. This was common to Arthur. Always late. Always on dark streets. Always scaring the girls. In fact, she was almost certain that Arthur was hiding somewhere, ready to scare her at any moment. Even if no one answered, she called again.

Suddenly a flash filled the room. Arthur was there in the middle, with a black hood and a smile from one ear to the other.

— Good night, my soul. Today we'll talk to the hidden dimensions.

— Ouija again? There are no such things as ghosts, Arthur Ward. We played it last week and nothing happened.

— But today is Friday the 13th, my soul. Today something must happen. And this house... it is familiar to me... It's as if I know the place. Not to mention the tragedy that happened here about 40 years ago.

— You practically live in this house, of course it's familiar to you.

— Last time, I promise, if nothing happens, we won't play it any more, how about that?

— Promise?

— Promise.

When the game started, nothing happened, as Clara had said. Arthur lit more candles, tried harder to think... nothing. Clara had brought a cheap bottle of wine and the bottle gradually ran out. The taste was terrible, but perhaps it increased the sensitivity to the place. "Mushrooms... you should have brought mushrooms" Arthur suggested. Clara rolled her eyes; sometimes she wondered why she was still seeing the lad. Arthur always had those absurd ideas. Where he wanted to get with those ideas, no one knew for sure. Even though, since the very first day they met, Arthur had clung to Clara like a hungry and insatiable leech, not even he was aware of what he wanted from that relationship. Perhaps, somehow they were meant to be together, Clara used to think. Maybe they would be weird best friends forever. There was no way of knowing.

— I researched a bit about this house. It seems the only two survivors died shortly after the accident, something like a year or two. The girl died and a couple of days later her cousin, I think that was it, overdosed. — Clara mentioned, distracted.

— I am legitimately surprised that you are interested in this, Clara! Perhaps if we focus on them, we could invoke something.

The idea was absurd like all the others, however, Clara knew nothing would happen. Seeing Arthur excited like that kept her entertained and it was a different activity instead of going to parties or using drugs at someone's home. Then, with all their strength, the couple thought of those two dead people. At first, nothing happened. Clara was about to let go of Arthur's hands and suggest going to the cinema when a memory invaded their minds.

Screams of terror and pain. Chills of fear. Despair. Clara felt her soul being torn away from her body. Fear made her want to leave the game, scream, run away, but she didn't have the strength to move. Arthur, on the contrary, felt nothing. He looked at the girl in front of him, who was sweating cold, and just thought of how special she was. How much she made him feel at home in that strange country. How much her mere presence was more comfortable than his parents' embrace and how everything she did was special in his eyes. Clara was his best friend. His confidant. Her. As Clara tried to scream and ask for help, darkness took Arthur's mind.

Arthur felt a tug on the back of his neck.

Clara was in a deep trance, her eyes white.

Something was wrong.

Arthur felt himself out of his body and suddenly he watched everything from a distance.

The boy sitting in front of Clara was not Arthur. It was Calvin. "You should not have done this. You just messed with forces I'd died to seal. And you don't have half the power I had. You traded everything for a little happiness and just threw it all away. His death is certain. "

The board cracked to make way for a different kind of darkness, evil and ravenous. Calvin wore Arthur's body and stood up. "I will need to die for you again, Eva, I'm sorry. I will find you once more, please wait for me." Calvin kissed Clara's forehead and turned to the darkness.

When Clara woke up, she was hungry. Thirsty. The board was in pieces on the floor. Arthur was not there. She wondered if the lad had gone out to get something to eat as she got up. However, her body felt exhausted. Whispers filled her mind and a voice asked for patience. A certainty took over her and she knew that Arthur was hiding somewhere, about to scare her once again. Tired, she sat on the floor. There was a problem, however. She did not remember sleeping, much less Arthur leaving the house; he would never leave her alone in a haunted house like that. Not quite sure what to do, Clara touched the pieces of the ouija board.

Something broke in her mind and memories overwhelmed her consciousness. Terrible and bloody, hungry eyes, just awaiting to devour her soul. Blue, glassy eyes that asked her to wait. Arthur's body was taken by an eternal and perverse darkness and only then she noticed the metallic smell that permeated the house. But Arthur could not be dead. Something inside her told her the lad could not die, his soul didn't have that right and the voice in her mind asked her to wait, Arthur would come back.

She got up and started to wander through those dark, old walls. The place smelled of soot, and Clara could almost feel the heat of the fire on her skin. She screamed for Arthur, called his name, cried in despair. Her mind could not accept he was not there, but after so long in search of the lad, Clara didn't find him anywhere. Clara become more desperate as she tried to remember her friend was. He needed to be alive, Clara did not want to live in a world where he did not exist. She sat on the floor, next to the board, and called out his name again. It was not possible, but Arthur was alive.

The police arrived three days later.

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Clara was unable to say what happened. There was no body. There was only blood. Blood on the floor, on the walls, on the windows. A DNA test proved it was Arthur's.

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After months of investigation, Clara was arrested. No one else had gone into the house in those three days. Even if she said she was innocent, there was no other option. She would be arrested. However, the young woman was in no condition to be kept in an ordinary prison. The lawyer alleged mental disorders. There were no voices telling her to kill Arthur, but the girl refused to believe the lad was not alive. It was obvious that all of this was just a joke, he was alive and Clara could prove it, she could scream and call out his name and he would answer. "Mental disorders" had said the lawyer. Clara would go to an asylum for insane criminals.

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Clara went to an asylum.

Clara screamed day and night.

Clara lost her life.

Clara was dead.

But Arthur is alive.

"It is not Arthur who is alive, my dear. They call me Jack. And I am the one who lives. "