THE UNKNOWN, ISSUE 4: NECROMANCER.

Part 3.

#THE_UNKNOWN (A series of short horrifying tales)
   
Author: Sam Freddy
   
Issue 4: NECROMANCER.
   
Part 3
   
    I widened my eyes in total disbelief. “What? Are you crazy? I’m not doing that!”
   
    “Come on, it’ll be fun!”
   
    “I ain’t sneaking in through no damn window, woman!” I said, walking closer to the door. “I’m not ready to spend a year or more than that of my life behind bars. Go ahead! Feel free to call me a clown, a coward or whatever, but I’m not breaking into this shop with you.”
   
    “Fine. So, what do you suggest we do, then?”
   
    “What any other sane person would do.”
   
    Adesewa gave me a questioning look. “Which is?”
   
    “We show some courtesy by knocking on the door. It’s a simple logic.” I answered and knocked on the door seven times. There was no response. “Maybe no one’s inside?”
   
    I knocked again, three more times. Yet, no answer came forth. Adesewa was on the verge of laughing and teasing me to death, which forced me to put in more effort to avoid her mockery.
   
    I knocked again and waited for a few seconds before placing four more knocks on the wooden door. At this juncture, Adesewa couldn’t contain herself anymore. She burst out laughing whilst pointing a well-manicured finger at me, then she started doing a countdown:
   
    “Five…”
   
    I continued knocking on the door out of frustration, hoping that someone would answer in time before I’d die of Sewa’s unnecessary teasing.
   
    “Four…”
   
    I was losing my patience. “C’mon! Somebody, please answer!”
   
    “Three…”
   
    “Sewa, stop this. You’re making me all tensed up!”
   
    “Two…”
   
    “Sewa, for God’s sake, please!”
   
    “One…”
   
    Just when I was about to lose hope and give up on knocking, I started hearing someone’s footsteps inside the shop, close to the door, to be precise. In a split second, the door opened and a young lady wearing glasses, a red singlet and a black jogger took two steps forward, folded her arms, made a dramatic pose and asked rudely:
   
    “What part of ‘CLOSED’ did you nitwits fail to understand?”
   
    The lady’s accent gave her true origin away at once. The very moment I heard her voice, I realized she was Indian. She had a pretty rosy face, a beautiful dark hair piled up in a chignon, a light skin with tons of tattoos all over it, and fine straight legs that could be seen despite the sweatpants and the nice purple kicks she had on.
   
    “We are sorry to disturb, ma’am, but we are here to see the seer.”
   
    “First of all,” the young lady said, grimacing, “don’t you "ma’am" me next time. I’m not an old woman. Call me Lalita.”
   
    “Sorry. My bad.”
   
    “Secondly, there’s a closed sign on the door, for crying out loud!” She complained, pointing at the bold sign. “There it is! It’s right there! Can’t you see?”
   
    Adesewa intervened. “Look here! I’m a friend of the woman who owns this shop. She knows me very well. Just tell her it’s Sewa, the ‘chosen one’. That is what she calls me.”
   
    “Just so you know, this woman you’re talking about is my mother.” Lalita said, still keeping a contorted face. “And I am quite sure she doesn’t want to see anyone now. We are closed! So, get that into your thick skulls and go back home. You can try again tomorrow.”
   
    “Wow. I never knew she had a daughter.” Adesewa said dully, grimacing too. “A nasty, rude one at that.”
   
    Lalita frowned harder and was about to say something out of annoyance, but I chipped in in time with: “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let’s take it easy here. Nobody’s here for any trouble. We have come in peace. Okay?”
   
    “Young dude, I don’t have a problem with you.” Lalita said, pointing at Sewa. “I want to help you, but if that thing over there continues babbling, I’m afraid I’ll have to change my mind.”
   
    “Hold on a sec! Who are you calling ‘thing’?”
   
    “Sewa, let it go.” I whispered, giving her a pleading look. “Please. It’s not worth it.”
   
    “You know what? Count yourself lucky to be the daughter of a woman I respect so much, Tabitha. On a normal day, Lord knows I wouldn’t take it lightly with someone else.” Adesewa said, heeding my plea. “Just thank your stars.”
   
    “For your information, Sewer, it’s Lalita! I am sure you weren’t deaf when I said it.”
   
    “Point of correction, it’s Sewa!”
   
    “I know what I said, blackie! Don’t you dare correct me.” Lalita defended, raising a brow. “You are so full of shit and piss. Your name should be changed to Sewer because that is where you belong.”
   
    “"Blackie?"” Sewa quoted, raising a brow too. “Oh, I get it. So, we are now playing the racist card, is that it?”
   
    “Come on, ladies. That’s enough!” I said, switching glances between both of them. “We are going back and forth and wasting time. Honestly, I’m not happy about this. Can we just put an end to this unnecessary melodrama and go inside?”
   
    Lalita and Adesewa traded deadly looks between each other for a brief moment, and then Lalita stepped back, opened the door properly and asked us to come inside. Before we did, I gave Adesewa a knowing look and told her not to start up another quarrel with the Indian teenager, and that even if she gets insulted again, she shouldn’t pay much attention to the spoilt girl until we were done with what we came for.
   
    The moment we walked into the shop, I was beyond amazed at the things I saw. I realized the shop wasn’t just a place for seeking divine intervention. They actually sold antique furniture, costumes and other things of yore. There were small aquariums beside the door which contained live goldfishes, starfishes, big crabs, turtles, and squids. Looking beyond, I spotted the feathers of a vulture in a glass tank, the fur of a cheetah hanging on a wire, a mammal’s claws in an old, dusty transparent jar, and the rusty bones of a dinosaur which had aged in a separate cracked tank on the counter.
   
    There were lots of other things in the shop, but I only spotted the ones that were within eyesight. I almost couldn’t believe that a common antique shop could have all these weird stuff inside. I was fascinated, entranced, bedazzled.
   
    “Wait here. Let me seek permission from my mother in her sanctum sanctorum.” Lalita informed us and warned us not to touch anything before walking into a corridor and out of sight.
   
    “What does that even mean?” I asked, confused, looking at Sewa’s face. “Sanctum sanctorum?”
   
    “A private, sacred room.”
   
    “Oh.” I said. “It’s weird how this place looks like a mini museum, right?”
   
    “Sorta.”
   
    “Are these things legal?”
   
    “Which things?”
   
    “The creepy stuff all around the shop, genius. Are they legit and acceptable by the law?”
   
    “How am I supposed to know that?”
   
    “I thought you said you usually see things, huh?”
   
    “Sam, stop pestering me.” Sewa complained, keeping a straight face. “You know I never meant it that way. I’m psychic, not a know-it-all who can tell the authenticity of ancient artifacts or something. Give me a break. Stop being a pain in the ass.”
   
    I was rendered speechless. ‘What in God’s name happened to Sewa’s sense of humor?’ I wondered, taking my eyes off hers. ‘Jeez!’
   
    Soon, Lalita returned and asked us to follow her, and we obeyed. We went into the same corridor she passed through before, and I noticed that the more we kept walking, the more it got darker and darker until we arrived at a dead end where another bigger wooden door was situated. There was a red curtain covering the door and a dim light bulb above it. The door had all kinds of unfathomable inscriptions which seemed to have been written in the Hindi language or so.
   
    “You two, take off your shoes and drop your phones in there.” Lalita instructed, pointing at a certain rusty locker whilst gesticulating with her other fingers. “Now.”
   
    “Why?”
   
    “Just do as she says.” Adesewa scolded me, removing her leather sandals. “We are about to step on holy ground. It’s better you comply, for your own good.”
   
    With that, I heeded Lalita’s instruction without questioning her again nor hesitating, as usual. Lalita took off her shoes too, then she knocked just once and opened the door and entered the partially dark room, while we followed suit.
   
    Just when I thought that the main shop was the creepiest place I had seen in all my life, this particular room surpassed my expectation and blew my mind away. I started looking around like a timid investigator, pinpointing the littlest detail of all I could see. Everything I observed was too much for me to take in, starting from the big oak tree at the center of the room. I’ll repeat it one more time for emphasis; I saw a BIG OAK TREE at the center of the seer’s room.
   
    ‘How’s that even possible?’ I wondered, lost in thought and more than baffled because I noticed that the root of the tree wasn’t even connected to the ground directly. Instead, it was rooted firmly onto the tiled floor. ‘How come?’
   
    On a normal day, I would’ve doubted the possibility of such a thing, but there it was, right before my very eyes. The tree had tons of names and inscriptions on it; some of them were carved, and some were written with what seemed to be white markers or white chalks. I couldn’t even tell what it was, and I didn’t have the courage to speak, let alone ask about it.
   
    There were paintings and graffiti on the four walls, in addition to the picture frames of different people, which were marked with the same white substance I saw on the tree. Some pictures were marked ‘X’, and others were marked double and triple of it, which are ‘XX’ and ‘XXX’.
   
    There was also a round mystic ball on the glass table and an artificial skeleton at the right corner of the room. Lots of large mirrors occupied the place too. All the windows were closed, and the overhead fan was inactive, despite the intense heat in the room. I thought I had seen it all until I noticed a traditional drum behind the oak tree, wrapped in red and black pieces of clothes.
   
    “Where’s your mother?”
   
    “Hush! Shush!” The teenager reprimanded me almost immediately. “In here, we maintain silence. You only talk when you are spoken to, dude.”
   
    “Sorry. I wasn’t aware of that.”
   
    “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
   
    I was about to whisper something in Sewa’s ear when someone’s shadow appeared out of the blue. I shuddered at once, so did Sewa, but the young lady beside me didn’t even flinch at all. In the twinkling of an eye, the long awaited old woman showed up from behind the tree, with her back facing us, making us tense. I was marvelled, overwhelmed by awe, petrified!
   
    ‘How come?’ I asked myself again, wide-eyed. ‘Where did she come out from? I could’ve sworn I never saw anyone standing behind that tree! I can even bet my life on it!’
   
    Sewa revived me from my short reverie with a touch on my hip. “Do exactly what I do,” she whispered, keeping her head down. “Do not look at her face. Stay cool.”
   
    I adhered without hesitation. Although I couldn’t see the necromancer, I heard her footsteps and felt her presence, and in no time at all, she was standing right before us all.
   
    “I greet you, oh great one!” Adesewa mumbled, joining both palms together respectfully. “Salaam alaikum!”
   
    “Alaikum salaam!” Surprisingly, the old lady’s voice wasn’t as creepy and hoarse as I thought it’d be. In fact, it was music to my ears, in spite of the strong accent she had. “What can I do for you, chosen one?”
   
    “Thank you, great one!” Adesewa answered, still keeping both palms entwined. “We have come for…”
   
    “Shhh.” The woman interrupted her before she could speak further. “That was a rhetorical question. I know why you are here.”
   
    “You do?”
   
    “Yes, I do.” The divineress said, entwining her wrinkled palms too. “And I am willing to assist you as best as I can. But I have to warn you both; that which you seek is beyond mortal comprehension. It is not child’s play. It is dangerous and deadly. Tell me, are you ready?”
   
    “Yes, great one. Yes, we are!”
   
    “Let him speak for himself, child.” She said sternly. Although I couldn’t see her, I had a strong feeling she was looking at me. “Are you ready to face your fears, young man?”
   
    I stuttered. “Ye… yes. I… I guess.”
   
    “Say it with confidence!” She scolded me harshly. “Are you sure you are ready to communicate with the ghosts of your folks?”
   
    This time around, I said it with all my heart: “Yes, ma’am. I am sure!”
   
    “That is the spirit.” The fortune teller said proudly, impressed. Afterward, she went to the glass table, spent a minute or two there and finally came back to us, instructing, “Now, take this from me and drink.”
   
    In all honesty, I had no idea what it was, but I collected the cup and drank the black liquid in it, anyway. It smelt bad and tasted awful.
   
    “Well done.” The prophetess collected the cup from me and smiled. “What you just drank would give you a limited power of supernatural insight. In other words, you now have the ability to see ghosts for a short period of time. Do you understand?”
   
    I nodded sharply, absolutely lost for words.
   
    “Let us proceed.” She said and handed the empty cup to her daughter. “Get on your knees, both of you.”
   
    Adesewa and I did as we were told. After that, the old lady sprinkled water on our heads and said:
   
    “You may raise your heads now.”
   
    I could’ve sworn I was the first person who looked up as fast as I could, just so I could see the soothsayer’s face, but I was disappointed in what I saw. All along, her face was covered with a thick black veil which was impossible for one to see through! I never expected that at all.
   
    “I am guessing you brought the important items we would need for this ritual, young man?”
   
    “Yes, I did, ma’am.”
   
    “Good one. Give them to me.”
   
    I nodded again and took off my bag, opened it, brought out the folder and handed it to her. She received it, removed the pictures from it and extended her other hand for the remaining items. I gave her my late father’s favorite cap, my mother’s bracelet and my sister’s wristwatch, hoping she wouldn’t complain about them. Fortunately, she didn’t.
   
    “Lalita, turn on the candles.” She ordered and waited until her daughter had done so, then she said something else with a language I couldn’t understand. Lalita curtsied and went to the biggest mirror and took something from the back of it, then she came back and stood right in front of me.
   
    “Young man, take the mask from her and put it on.”
   
    Fearfully, I obeyed the woman, even though I had no clue what I was doing. Afterward, she asked for the names of each and every one of the deceased on the photographs, and I told her the truth. Sighing, she walked to the back of the big tree, stood there and wrote the names of my family on a small branch, then hung the pictures and items on another smaller branch. She then dropped the chalk on the floor and started dancing a mystic dance, incanting spells and beating the drum with her bare hands.
   
    “Straza-mei-skish dastré meo-dum jantré shashka!”
   
    I raised a brow, surprised. “What the hell is she saying?” I whispered, referring to Sewa. “Huh?”
   
    “Can you, please, be quiet?” Sewa whispered back, laying emphasis on the word ‘please’. “This is not the time to talk. Keep quiet.”
   
    Left with no choice, I maintained silence and continued watching the live drama in front of us. The woman kept on dancing, whirling and twirling for several minutes, acting like a complete psychopath. The sound of the drum blending with her aged voice was literally killing me. I was getting bored and doubtful as time went on, almost on the verge of questioning the authenticity of the so-called necromancer when something happened.
   
    With a pitch as loud as a trumpet, she screamed the last verse of the incantation:
   
    “Dostra wanfa gauit carsandro duiro-scrux-tra!”
   
    Lo and behold, some leaves fell off from the tree and the mystic ball on the table started glowing brightly. I didn’t know how, but somehow, a strong wind blew in through the closed windows, wafted across the room and turned off the candles.
   
    “What is going on?” I whispered again, terrified. “Sewa?”
   
    “Oh, my God!” Sewa muttered out of shock, widening her eyes as though she’d seen a monster. “Sam, look. Look!”
   
    “What? Look where?” I asked on impulse, looking around. “Where?!”
   
    “Look there,” she pointed at the biggest mirror in the room and tapped on my shoulder, “see, it’s them! It’s them! It’s your family!”
   
    “What are you talking about?” I almost shouted, confused, seeing nothing. “There’s nobody there! I can’t see anyone.”
   
    “Sit down on that old office chair behind you and open your eyes wide.” The necromancer’s voice startled me as she started coming towards us. “Quickly!”
   
    “Why?” I asked, trembling, my voice muffled through the mask. “What’s going on? What’s wrong, ma’am?”
   
    When she finally stood before me, a well-deserved slap was what I received before she yelled: “Just do as I say, boy!”
   
    Ironically, I needed no soothsayer to let me know the right thing to do at that particular moment. I sat and opened my eyes wide, just as instructed. Then the old woman placed her thumb and index finger on my chin and tilted my head up, spitting in my eyes and smearing her saliva on my forehead through the opening of the mask.
   
    “Now, look back there!” She commanded, making gestures at the same large mirror. “What do you see?”
   
    The moment I placed both eyes on the mirror, someone, or something swiftly moved out of view and—much to my amazement—the next things I saw were shadows on the wall. A tall man’s shadow stood in the middle, wagging his head slowly, and a little girl and a woman stood by his sides, both motionless.
   
    In the blink of an eye, they were all gone. I couldn’t see the shadows anymore. They seemed to have… vanished.
   
    “Tell me what you saw, boy.”
   
    For a brief moment, I was completely lost for words. I couldn’t believe what I saw because I was quite familiar with those shadows like the back of my hand. The most surprising thing was that the man’s shadow pointed at me before they vanished, and immediately they left, the mystic ball stopped glowing, and the candles turned back on, on their own accord. Or so it seemed.
   
    “I said, tell me what you saw, child.” The divineress demanded and raised her hand, more than ready to restore my voice with a hot slap if I didn’t speak on time.
   
    “Shadows.”
   
    All eyes were obviously on me now.
   
    “What did you say? Speak up.”
   
    “Shadows.” I repeated, trying my best to stay calm. “Those were all I could see, ma’am. Just mere shadows.”
   
    The elderly woman shook her head, disappointed. “In that case, take off the mask,” she said and looked at Sewa. “Dear chosen one, you may sit now.”
   
    Admittedly, I was already sweating by the time I removed the plastic mask. Sewa sat down on another swivel chair, so did the old lady, but Lalita continued standing despite the extra vacant seat beside Sewa.
   
    “You don’t seem to be happy, oh great one.” Adesewa said, concerned. “I wonder what went wrong.”
   
    “The truth is,” she started explaining, “those ghosts are not the regular type of ghosts I know. They are different, more powerful, so wise.”
   
    She paused and started shaking her head again, feeling more disappointed, I could tell. This time around, her voice was barely above a whisper, as she proceeded:
   
    “Look here, child,” she said to me. “Your family is not happy with you…”
   
    “I thought as much.” I whispered on impulse, scoffing. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
   
    “Shut up!” Adesewa slapped my hand and gave me a mean look before looking back at the seer. “I’m sorry for the interruption, great one. Pardon his misconduct. Please, go on.”
   
    She nodded understandingly and continued: “As I was saying, boy, your family is so angry with you to the point that even their ghosts do not want to communicate with you. At least, not here.”
   
    “How do you mean, ma’am?”
   
    “In other words, I mean they are refusing to show themselves to you no matter how many spells I incant, no matter how many charms I use, and no matter how many potions I give you.” She explained, shaking her head for the umpteenth time. “I am afraid the ritual has to be completed in your house by YOU alone, tonight.”
   
    As expected, I widened my eyes and whisper-shouted: “What? How am I supposed to do that?”
   
    “Pay attention. Listen to what I am about to say, young man.” The necromancer warned sternly, pointing her wrinkled index finger at my chest. “Or disobey me, and you shall die this fateful night.”