THE UNKNOWN, ISSUE 4: NECROMANCER.

Part 9.

#THE_UNKNOWN (A series of short horrifying tales)
   
Author: Sam Freddy
   
Issue 4: NECROMANCER.
   
Part 9: The Conclusion.
   
    Three days.
   
    It’s been three days since the incident in the woods, and a lot has happened within that short period of time. A huge chunk of our routine revolved around hospital checkups for Sewa, and police interrogations and investigations, which fortunately didn’t fall on us for the crimes we didn’t commit.
   
    Sewa and I were the only ones present at the deaths of Dorothy, Mel, Jerry, Lalita and the necromancer herself, and under normal circumstances, we would’ve been accused falsely and jailed, or worse, especially in a land where we were non-citizens with extreme racial discrimination, but fatefully, a CCTV footage around Dorothy’s street vindicated us. Nobody would’ve believed us if it all hadn’t been captured on camera for the world to see.
   
    The cops were skeptical about our story concerning Lalita’s death and her mother’s absence, though, until we showed them the coffins with the missing students and the remains of the necromancer—absolute, raw sawdust that looked nothing like her.
   
    The government confiscated the antique shop indefinitely, and a honorable funeral was held for Dorothy, Jerry and Lalita today, in the same cemetery my family was buried. Upon my asking, they were all buried right next to my family, engraved with heroic titles.
   
    The paparazzi had been on our necks for a while now, following us everywhere we went, but today, the only place they couldn’t come to was the sorrowful burial ground. Only the loved ones of the deceased were present at the ceremony, and after they’d paid their last respects, everyone scattered with sympathetic, heavy hearts, leaving just Sewa and I behind.
   
    We both stood before the graves, dressed in all black, yet to pay our final respects. With one hand in my suit’s pocket and the other holding a bouquet, I glanced at Sewa, whose posture was supported by a crutch under her armpit, still recovering from her left foot’s injury. She held a bouquet too, saddened by the turn out of events. We both were.
   
    On Friday, after work, if anyone had told us that we’d be attending a funeral on this terrific Tuesday morning, we would’ve doubted it. But here we were, mourning our friends.
   
    “Rest in peace, Lalita. We’ll never forget your sacrifice for us and everyone else,” I dropped a rose on her grave and moved to Dorothy’s, casting a sunflower on hers. “For giving us shelter in our time of trouble, which says a lot about you, I honour you and hope that you find peace in paradise.”
   
    I heard an “Amen!” from Sewa as I left a black rose on Jerry’s spot. “Your singular act of humanity will not be forgotten, I promise.” Then I stopped in the middle of my family’s graves and stooped, plucking some flowers from the packet with my sight darting between their tombstones.
   
    “Hey, mom. Hi, dad. Hello, Shania.” I smiled ruefully, touching the sands on each of their graves. “It’s been a while . . . Trust you’re all doing good?”
   
    “So, uh… I’ve made some costly mistakes,” I said after a sharp pause, nervous, “but henceforth, I won’t let my mistakes define me because that’s not what you all would’ve wanted. I held on to the past and dwelled in a dangerous cycle of self-loathing for months, hoping I’d die with you guys, but I was too blind to see that I was given a second chance to live better and make you all proud. I developed a alcohol and cigarette addiction in a bid to curb the pain, which only gave me temporary relief and more worries, and pushed me to seek diabolical help from a witch, just so I could talk to you guys again . . .”
   
    Sewa purposely coughed at the back, as though to remind me that it was her idea in the first place so that I wouldn’t bag all the blame alone.
   
    I granted her a wry smirk and continued my rather pitiful soliloquy. “Well, me and my friend here, Sewa, have realized that we were wrong, and that sensitive issues like consulting the dead should’ve never entered the picture in the first place. It shouldn’t even be on anyone’s mind at all because the result could be disastrous, and for that reason, it’s best to stick to the tradition of praying, hoping and wishing that the deceased finds peace in death, and that the weight of guilt, grief, or regret falls from the shoulder of the bereaved, too.”
   
    That last sentence was entirely true because I felt at peace pouring my heart out now. It was like offloading a pile of dirty dishes into a dishwasher so that I’d have a clean and spotless result on my conscience.
   
    At the back, I was sure that Sewa was glad to watch me confront my fears at last, which gingered me to conclude my speech with:
   
    “So, mom, dad, and my dearest Shanny, this is me paying homage to you all and delving into happiness again because I know that no matter what happened, I’m still your family, and you’ve seen my sincere remorse and granted me forgiveness at last.” I dropped one rose each on mom and dad’s graves, and then offered the bunch to Shania’s, adding, “Rest in peace, dear. I know you’re in a better place now, and one day I’ll see you again, when the time is right.”
   
    Post-conclusion, I stepped back and earned a smile and a soft tap on my back from Sewa, who then moved forward to pay her respects too.
   
    She said some really meaningful and emotional things, especially to Dorothy, which made me uncomfortable since I pulled the trigger. But, as explained before, the world already knew that I did it out of urgency and instinct and not for the thrill of it, so my conscience was quite clear.
   
    When she was done paying homage, Sewa followed me to a bench nearby to sit and unwind a little.
   
    We didn’t say a word for at least one minute. We just basked in the silence of the graveyard, enjoying nature and freeing our minds from everything.
   
    Nothing was worth stressing over anymore, as far as I was concerned. All I wanted at this point was peace and quiet, and total isolation from everyone and everything else, except for Sewa, of course, whose company was a rather undeserved blessing to me. I gave her a sidelong glance and smiled, wondering how such a pretty, productive and gifted woman fancied someone like me.
   
    Note that I didn’t consider myself a total loser or something like that, but in Sewa’s presence, I felt boring and basic—too basic, like I was nonadventurous and without flare to her taste, so it thrilled me to still see her here, sitting beside me, relaxing.
   
    I wondered if we would’ve been this close—both physically and emotionally—if this whole necromancer issue never happened in the first place. It had undoubtedly strengthened our bond and made it much easier for us to talk to each other, which I was eternally grateful for, to be honest.
   
    “What are you thinking about, Sam?”
   
    A quick snap back to real life had my eyebrows twitching as I turned my head to a curious-faced Sewa, whose sexiness only hooked the truth out of me:
   
    “You.”
   
    She smirked, her eyebrows pulling tight. “You can’t be serious.”
   
    I am serious, darling, I would’ve said, but that was too heavy to spill, so I went mute and just stared at her. She found it so easy to use those endearing titles on me, but it wasn’t the same for me. I really wanted to, I truly wished I could, but I couldn’t bring myself to it, no matter how intimate we were.
   
    Reading the expression on my face, Sewa saw the truth therein. “Wait, you’re serious!” She realized, her mouth dropping. “Were you really thinking about me in the middle of this crisis?”
   
    “What crisis?” I said, lost. “It’s over.”
   
    “What’s over? The ongoing police investigations? The unsettling interviews? The annoying journalists on our tail?” She juggled through options. “What exactly?”
   
    “Oh.” I had nothing to say now. I’d been trapped tight, clueless on how to articulate my words. She probably knew that I admired her so much—most likely always have—but she wanted me to come clean on my own. She probably liked me too but didn’t have the stomach to say it and hoped that I would.
   
    So this was my big chance today, and I wouldn’t screw it up for anything!
   
    Should I just go straight up with the I-like-you-in-a-romantic-way approach, or add style to it with diplomacy? What technique was better between the ever potent, guns blazing commando style and the cliché beating-around-the-bush pattern until the girl dozes off and friend-zones you forever?
   
    “You know, maybe you’re right. It’s over.” Sewa cut in, ruining my moment, again! Like always!
   
    Bloody hell!
   
    I was screaming inside, but relaxed outside—a technique I’d mastered over the years of fleeting disappointments from high school girls that turned me down in ninth grade. “Huh? What are you talking about?”
   
    “You know what I’m saying,” she offered me a full-blown smile. “When was the last time you smoked or drank beer?”
   
    “Wow.” I stifled a laugh, after pondering for a moment. “It’s been four or five days now!”
   
    “See?” Sewa was genuinely happy for me. Her smile stimulated happiness in me too. “You were a core addict, but we’re making progress now, and it’s refreshing.”
   
    “Yeah.” I nodded, seeing how far I’d come, indeed. “Thank you so much. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”
   
    “Nah, it was all you, big boy. It was all you,” she said, tapping my thigh. “And I’m sorry for slapping you in the basement. It’s been on my mind since that day.”
   
    I smiled, loving her retentive memory and politeness. “No, you shouldn’t apologize for that,” I said. “You did the right thing. That was a precious factory reset slap you blessed me with, and here’s the result today.”
   
    Sewa burst into laughter, making me laugh too.
   
    “But seriously, we went through hell, Sam.” She said a moment later. “I’m still hurt by the great one’s betrayal. I mean, I would’ve never imagined that a woman I loved and respected like that could do so much harm to me and other innocent people out there. I’m heartbroken.”
   
    “That’s life for you.” I said guiltily. “Sometimes, the people you cherish the most end up hurting you badly.”
   
    “Oh, come on, Sam. Are you still talking about Dorothy?” Sewa picked the double meaning under my comment. “I already told you I understand. I know you had to,” she rubbed my thigh, offering me support. “You had to.”
   
    Unconvinced, I nodded, just to keep her calm.
   
    “Smile for me,” she said, shaking my leg with a thin smile on her face. “Come on.”
   
    I couldn’t. I tried, but . . . I just couldn’t.
   
    Not with the swift mental flashes of bullet holes on Dorothy’s head.
   
    Not with the overflowing blood that covered her face.
   
    Not with the fact that I did it.
   
    Not with Lalita’s unfortunate, ill-fated demise.
   
    Blood and gore were all I’d known lately, and I doubted that I’d recover from the trauma I’d been through. Everything was overwhelming for me.
   
    Everything.
   
    “Hey, hey, look at me.” Sewa’s ever soft voice cut through the tension, her hands directing my face to hers. “Sam, listen…
   
    “I know what you’re thinking, and I know that it’s not something that’ll go overnight, which is why I won’t ask you to forget it by force. No, I won’t,” she said optimistically, her fingers dancing around my cheeks. “As humans, pain is natural for us. It demands to be felt, and that is precisely what we are passing through now. Only difference is that I’m more open to healing and support, in and out, while you’re fighting alone, battling with something that’s much bigger than you and unyielding to seek help from anyone, not even me.”
   
    Sewa was right. She was always right. I was too reserved for my liking, way too much. And even though solitude seems peaceful and comforting, it gets addictive and lonely sometimes, blocking you from the rest of the world with a negative, steadfast grip on your mental health.
   
    You have to be really, really lucky to get out of it. Really.
   
    “See this.” Sewa wriggled her wrist before my face, letting me see her rosary clearly. “Guess what?”
   
    I raised an eyebrow, lost.
   
    “Faith,” she said. “Faith is everything, and it never needs a reason. It doesn’t cost a thing. All it requires is your spirit, heart and mind to manifest wonders in your life, to turn things around for good.”
   
    “So much for not costing a thing, though.” I joked, invoking a chuckle from Sewa.
   
    “Well, you get the point,” she opened my clenched fist, softly, and slipped the item into my palm before closing it back. “There you go.”
   
    “What’re you doing?” I asked, surprised.
   
    “Keep it,” Sewa said, enveloping my fist with her hands. “It’s yours now, and I want you to remember this day whenever you’re down. Like I always say, the power lies not in the tool but in one’s faith, and that faith, I pray, shall set you free at last, in Jesus’ name.”
   
    “Amen.” I said, cherishing her optimism whilst pocketing the gift. “You’re a godsend, Sewa. I mean it.”
   
    “So I’ve heard.” Sewa set her crutch in its initial position, gripping my right arm in preparation for our departure. “Come on, a whole new world awaits us.”
   
    “Indeed.”
   
    Before leaving, however, arm in arm with Sewa, I looked back at the graves and earned an instant eyesore, so much that I flinched and got Sewa’s attention.
   
    “Sam?” Sewa called, but I was too occupied with gazing longingly at the sight to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
   
    “Did you see that?” I swallowed, pointing at Lalita’s grave.
   
    “What, Sam?” She looked, confused, unable to spot a thing.
   
    “That picture… Lalita’s picture just morphed to her mom’s face, and it moved in the frame.” I confessed what I saw, still pointing at it. “But now it’s normal. How?”
   
    Upon scrutiny, Sewa turned to me and said considerately, “Sam, there’s nothing there, trust me.”
   
    “But… but…”
   
    “Trust me,” she reaffirmed, linking her pleading eyes with mine. “Trust me. If there was a presence here, I’d have felt it long ago.”
   
    I guess that made sense. Maybe I was just being a little too on guard, overthinking things, due to the recent happenings and all. Perhaps my mind was just stressed and making up stuff on its own, for all I knew.
   
    It had to be.
   
    “You know what? You’re right; there’s nothing there.” I told Sewa, honing the forced smile I wore. “Let’s just go home, shall we?”
   
    Now gaining relief, Sewa nodded yes, and we commenced our trip back home, but just before we exited the cemetery, I saw a bleeding inscription on a tree, which goes:
   
    “𝑰𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒅. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌.”
   
    I blinked once and it wasn’t there anymore.
   
    “Sam.” Sewa seemed worried again, joining me in staring at the blank tree behind us. “Why are we stopping? What did you see?”
   
    “Nothing,” was my reply. “Nothing. Let’s just go.”
   
    I could tell that Sewa thought that I was being weird by the unsettling look she sported, but she was considerate regardless. Her face expressed uncertainty while her eyes bore love and concern, and I couldn’t keep putting her on edge like this, so I beamed a better smile at her and continued walking.
   
    One last glance at the blank tree showed the certainty of one thing: the necromancer was gone for good and never to return. There was nothing to worry about anymore, for it was all over, once and for all.
   
    Or so I thought.
   
    𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳.
   
    . . .
   
    𝙾𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝚃?