It was at hot as ever in Australia as two teens walked in the sweltering heat, Rob and Daisy. This part of town was close to Sydney yet still run down and old. The street looked like it hadn't been fixed in thirty years, as it was littered with potholes and cracks.
"I don't understand? You just expect me to believe this?" Daisy confront Rob. He had spent the past few minutes while they walked on cracked concrete sidewalks with flowers and clovers sprouting out from the ground.
"It's not logical, I know. None of this is. But you have to believe me or- were here." Rob stopped mid-sentence to inform her of there destination. It looked like the same house that were lining up and down the block.
"I can't believe i'm doing this. I can't believe i'm on my way to some old man's with a crook. And let me remind you, my dads a police officer." Daisy complained, as they walked up the crooked steps.
They how was small yet comfy and quirky. I mean sure it wasn't in the best condition, but if you did a bit of trimming on the hedges, and touched up the cracked shingles, it could be a nice hideaway.
"I was reluctant too at first, but the world isn't as it seems." Rob said while knocking at the old man's door in a white tank top, sandals and blue shorts. It was a strange look, and certainly didn't fit there surroundings. They stuck out like a sore thumb.
"I mean but like magic? Seriously?" Daisy didn't want to consider this, but he seemed convinced on it, which was enough for her to raise an eyebrow at the possibility. Who knows though?
"Do you hear that?" They both focused in on the door, as sounds of footsteps had been prominent inside the house and they heard a sound coming from inside. Someone, presumably old man Bradshaw, fiddled with the lock until a click came from the door and it opened a creek.
An old fellow peaked his head out from the door, a grey stubble on his face and droopy tired eyes. He didn't seem to happy to have visitors, judging by the sigh and the looks he gave at them.
"What do you want?" The old hermit mumbled, preparing to shut the door on them until Daisy stepped forward.
"I'm guessing your Bradshaw." He didn't answer which she assumed was a good sign as she looked back to Rob, as if he was going to speak for her. Rob realized this was his cue and he stepped forward.
"Do you know anything about the last name, Crainer?" Rob spoke hopefully. This was there only hope at solving the curse and possibly stop the death of William's mom.
"Great, more of my mom's bullshit. Go home, whatever she said isn't true." The hermit yelled, about to shut the door when Daisy put her foot in.
"Sir, we need your help." Daisy begged, only doing this for Rob. She felt bad for bothering this old hag, who probably had nothing to do with this curse or whatever witchcraft Rob had talked about.
"You're not going to get it." He warned, walking away from the door in a weird stance, back to his torn couch where a golf tournament was playing. There were little antiques, like a little windup box, and a clock from asia.
"We're searching for the amulets." Rob chimed in, pushing the door further open to reveal a neat and tiny house, which looked like your typical house from the 80's. It was classic.
"Get inside." The old man ran over. He looked surprisingly pretty fit and there was a handgun next to the door, hung up. Daisy and Rob entered in curiously, as he ushered them to hurry up, then shutting the door.
"What's happening?" Daisy asked, reaching for Rob's hand, who held onto it as he closed the blinds then peaked out from the door.
"Was there anyone following you when you walked over here? Anyone looking suspicious?" Mr. Bradshaw asked, looking around and at two teens standing in the middle of his living room.
"No." Daisy hesitantly answered, knowing they had encountered something, but they were obviously confused with his odd change of behavior.
"Listen, what's the deal?" Rob stepped forward, tired with the old man's shenanigans. "I assume you're Mr. Bradshaw?"
"Yes i am. Well, i shouldn't say too much about myself. Now listen to me closely, whatever you're searching for, it's not worth it. That book that i published, I was young and foolish. It's best if you don't follow in my footsteps. I need to talk to my mom about this." Mr. Bradshaw huffed, reaching out for his landline, and grabbing it, his hands shaking and fumbling everywhere.
"Your mom? As in Mrs. Crainer?" Rob took a few steps toward the table that held the phone and he gently pushed the phone down towards the answering machine.
"Yes. Now let me talk to her." He started dialing the numbers rapidly, trying to remember as he held the phone with his left hand and it started ringing. Rob didn't know how to say this, so he just let it out.
"She died. A few days ago. At peace. In her sleep." Rob blurted, also lying to help him cope with her death as his heart sank. Rob saw the energetic, adrenaline rushing Bradshaw turn into a depressed, shocked old man that had flipped a switch.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Daisy spoke, but nothing could comfort Bradshaw, as he walked over to the couch and sat down, his heart empty and blank.
"I should've expected this. They- they were after her." Tears started forming in his eyes, the they he was referring to obviously being the Department and there trained assassins.
"I'm sorry." Rob apologized, at a loss of words. There was silence as the only ambience was the sniffling of Bradshaw and the quiet voices of the announcers on the TV.
"I'm fine. It's nothing." He wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve, and stood up, walking to the kitchen and taking a glass cup to the sink where he washed it off.
"May we stay? We don't have anywhere to go." Rob said guiltily, as he placed the cup down and switched the faucet, a fake smile on the old man's face.
"Sure, stay the night. Would you like some orange juice. We could talk perhaps." The old hag needed some company so Rob sat down at the front of the table, where candles resided neatly. Despite being in this beat up neighborhood, the house had clearly been taken care of and pampered to its full extent. Everything was nice and clean, and it was a calming sight and atmosphere. The two kids nodded, and he grabbed orange juice from the fridge and two cups.
"Your home. It's nice." Daisy admired the house, and the little antiques littered around the estate.
"Thanks. Those antiques, I used to be a traveler. I would visit a lot of places, see a lot of people when my mom was alive. It was fun. I enjoyed it a lot." He reminisced sadly, trying to change the subject. "You like the art?"
There was also a notable amount of art filling the halls and empty spaces. They were pretty paintings with vibrant and fresh colors. It was a gorgeous view.
"Yeah." Daisy laughed, as he poured orange juice into there cups and handed it to them. The hot sun had gotten the best of them and they were quick to drink the orange juice.
"I painted those, you know? I was a different person back then, until the department tried to kill me and hunt me down. I settled in Australia, where I came to a quiet suburban area and had been at piece ever since then. I took my paintings with me." Bradshaw informed them, as they both finished there orange juice and Bradshaw tipped them some more orange juice in there cup. "That painting of Tokyo is my favorite. You should definitely visit Japan."
"About the amulets, what do you know about them?" Rob asked, causing Bradshaw to miss his cup and pour it onto the table as his mind froze. The orange juice made a puddle on the table and started dripping onto the floor as Mr. Bradshaw began to realize what they came here for, and the terrible memories that followed.
YOU ARE READING
The Eight Amulets, Vol. 1
General FictionEvery since William had arrived in Springfield, things had gone haywire. Car crashes, bullies, and trouble following him everywhere. But then there was a final straw when his mom became incredibly sick. It all leads to one curse, and it's down to Wi...
