Inked

Chapter Three: The WestBottoms

I couldn't sleep the whole night. My mind ran through the experience and then reran the whole thing over again. Constantly.
    I never ate my ramen that night. I sat there after the happening for a good ten minutes before I finally moved myself from the terror-struck position I had been in. I didn't even clean up my ramen or put the knife away. I kept it by my bedside and in the bathroom with me while I took a shower.
    I had never had the dark void of a figure ever speak to me. It was 6:30 and the light was just coming up. I threw the blankets off me and stood upwards, pressing my feet into the cold wood. What did that mean? I thought. The image of the cold pallor hand that touched my face was revealed to me once again. This also came along with the growling voice that spoke "Conectuntur the amica mea." I took in a deep breathe leaned on the counter in my kitchen.
What was I doing? I wondered. The flashback to yesterday had taken me off guard. I then nodded grabbed my cereal and opened up my fridge to get my milk out.
    I had started eating of course when Oliver started bothering me. Oliver loved food, except for ramen. He would scratch me, beg me, try to put his fluffy tail in my food...really Oliver did anything he could to get food from me. I never gave in. It was 8:30 by the time I was done fighting with Oliver. I knew it would take 8 minutes to get down to the WestBottoms, so I would slowly change, put some makeup on and watch a little tv before leaving at 10:00. I got up, rinsed my bowl out and walked to my bedroom.
    I cannot say that I am a fashionista. I don't own anything designer. I love fashion but I am not rich by any means. I pulled out a pair of skinny jeans, normal wash with holes in the knees. These were the kind of jeans that I couldn't wear to work. I grabbed a grey ribbed turtleneck and threw on some socks.
    I hate spending hours on makeup when it is not a special event. I put on some light foundation, a little concealer, fixed my brows a bit and put on mascara and I was ready.
    I plopped myself on the couch making the springs in the creaky couch squeak. I turned on the tv. I'm not much of a tv 'watcher', I never have been, but I liked the sound of someone else there in my apartment. It was soothing to me.
    It was 9:45. Fuck it! I thought. I'm going to go now. I can't wait any longer. I got off the couch. Put on my black boots and grabbed my coat. I kissed Oliver goodbye.

    The WestBottoms is one of those places that is filled with mystery...and nostalgia. I had loved abandoned places and still do but the WestBottoms was a place you don't screw around in. Many people died here from gang shootings late at night...unless it was in October. Which was the month I was in.
    During October the WestBottoms were filled to the brim with haunted houses. They were world renowned supposedly and most people stood out for hours before the sun got dark to ensure them a place in one haunted house. But during the day when the sun was up at its brightest there was no one around. This is the true feeling of the abandoned WestBottoms.
    I got out of my car, wrapped my coat around me tightly from the brutal winds. I sighed. Where do I go? I never even got an exact, I heard the shuffling of feet on the pavement to my left. I whipped my head around.
    "Hi!" He stood there his hand up in the air slightly shaking as to resemble a wave. He had a dorky smile one that would be seen on a high school nerd that asked a girl to a dance. He had black hair pushed down onto his forehead. His ears stuck out like Dumbo and he was as skinny as a twig.
    "Hi!" He said again as he got closer to me. He fought the wind his tiny frame. I felt like his pea coat was going to become his umbrella and make him Mary Poppins. "I'm Sam!" He exclaimed above the winds. He held a fragile hand out. I shook his hand. "Why don't you come inside!" He yelled again. He pointed to one of the buildings. I nodded and followed him inside.
    It wasn't as windy inside except for when one of the windows was broken. We walked up to the fourth floor. I followed him down a long corridor which ended in a door that seemed to be replaced. They were not broken and rotten at the bottom like the others. This was a one piece wooden door with dark metal brackets to give it a rustic look.
    Sam fished for his keys inside of his pea coat pocket. "Ahh there you are keys!" I had never noticed this outside because of the excruciating blowing of the winds that Sam was not from here. Not from this country to be exact. His Accent was British.
    "Come on in." He said opening up the door to a apartment. I slowly stepped inside. Sam had renovated this one room. It's was a rustic style. Two iron chandeliers hung down the middle of the room and two leather couches sat facing each other with a coffee table separating them.
    Sam shut the door and took his coat and placed it on the hooks that were nailed into the wall. "I renovated this place two years ago." he explained. I looked around papers were everywhere. Yellow, white, post-it notes. About every type of paper was one whole wall. "Oh those," he commented. He hung himself over a mini bar that held crystal with some type of alcohol in it. "You want some?" He asked as he held up a glass. I shook my head, "No, no thank you." I assured. "I've been documenting, researching," he explained. He walked over to the wall of paper. "The first clue I found as to what being inked was, well was in 1797-98." He pointed to a picture, one which was blurry because of how far away I was. "This is the beginning of being inked."
    I walked closer to the picture. A picture of a goat with people surrounding it was pinned to the wall. An older woman in the picture held up a skeleton to the goat in the middle. One person behind her; a baby. "And what is inked exactly?" I pondered.
    Sam laughed. "Mollie that's your name right?" He questioned. "Yeah it is." Sam scratched his head. Smiled at the floor and laughed "Your a witch," he paused. "You are a witch with powers." Sam took me by the shoulders. "Mollie you can see the dead," he laughed then paused took his arms off me.
    He looked back at his papers. "So that black swirling figure I see...is a dead person?" Sam looked over at me, "You see a black swirling figure." I nodded my head. He slowly started walking over to the couches when I started explaining. "It is like this cloaked figure that at the edges looks like it is ink, black ink swirling in water," I paused. Sam had not said a word to me. "I have never seen this figures face but it's hand are...pallor and thick." Sam got up from the couch and walked over to the mini bar.
    "Mollie you probably are seeing," I interrupted him,"This thing I see is something out of the norm. This figure could not have been human!" Sam laughed at me.
    There was a long pause where I contemplated the phrase I would say, "It wears a ring!" Sam's blue eyes flashed up at me. "What kind of a ring?" He prodded. "I don't know medieval looking," I tried to find words to describe the unforgettable image plastered in my head. I closed my eyes getting a better image of it. "Thick silver band, tree stamped into the top of a thicker square on the top of the band." I listed off anything that I could. I opened them up, looked to the side of me. Sam stood with a piece of yellow paper in his hand with a pen on top. "Draw it for me."
    I grabbed the pen and paper and quickly sat down on one of the couches and pulled the coffee table close. I sketched out the ring and quickly got up. I walked over to Sam who was now at the wall looking at his paper. "Here." I shoved the paper towards him.
    He ripped the paper out of my hands and looked at it. His eyes got wider and wider and scanned the shitty sketch over and over. "Oh my god!" He quaked.

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