Bewitched

I

It has been said that a peculiar woman lives in the corner of Everset and Washington. Not your regular "eccentric" type that collects vintage corks and listens to swing music at 3am, no, she was much more different. The type of peculiar that you see in the dead of night, roaming the streets. The type of peculiar that just escapes your gaze. The type of peculiar that seems impossible to figure out. Such stories of this woman include a shop within her home. Most would call her a demon, but she simply goes by the term "witch." They say that if you enter her shop, she can give you what you desire, for the proper sum of course.
     This was where one boy had planned to go. Well, as soon as he left this dreary hospital.
     Young Markus Galakin was laid on his uncomfortable bed in a bland hospital on a dismal day. He sighed as he flipped through multiple channels trying to find something to ease this mind-numbing boredom. He saw flashes of the news, a home rental show, something about aliens in the past, he even saw the auctioning of a 25,000 year old dog leash. Markus finally decided on a show about baking.
     "At least it's interesting," he mumbled to himself.
     The nurses popped in throughout the day to check if he had any pain, not that any of them enjoyed the task. Markus had the habit of being a bit...troubling. One nurse, however, had taken a liking to his sarcastic behavior and assigned herself to his room.
     She opened the door carrying his lunch. "How'r things goin', sugar?"
     Markus didn't look away from his baking show and waved the stump where his left arm used to be in the air. The nurse chuckled and placed his tray in front of him before taking a seat. They sat in silence with only the sound of the tv in the background. Markus wrinkled his nose as he probed his "chicken carbonara" with a fork.
     "I'm supposed to eat this?" he asked, looking up at the woman.
     She nodded but pulled something out of her pocket, "'Fraid so, darlin', but I managed to sneak you one of these babies." She tossed a pear to Markus which he caught with his only arm.
     He smiled and took a bite. "Thanks, Missy."—Markus closed his eyes— "What's going on in the outside world?"
     "Nothin' much, really. Only thing that's really happenin' are those murders. Lord almighty, first time I heard about these deaths it scared the dickens out of my ma and pa. My whole family dropped everything they were doing on the farm and flew all the way up to Manhattan just to check on their baby girl! Imagine, two parents, six brothers, a crazy drunk for an aunt and a retired marine for a cousin all packed into one visiting room! But enough about me. What about you? What are your plans after this? Any relatives you can go to?"
     "No," he said, shifting in his seat, "but the social workers will figure something out for little ol' me."
     Missy noticed the disgust in his voice and put her hand on his shoulder. "They visited today, didn't they?"
     Markus only nodded and tossed the pear core into the bin. The room grew quiet again.
     Missy broke the silence, "So what are ya gonna do?"
     "Dunno, but I have to get out of here. I have to go see someone who can help me."
     "Markus, you can't leave the hospital. You have to get your last examination, you don't have anywhere to go, you don't ev-"
     "I can do whatever I want because you aren't my legal guardian. The hospital can't touch me. Missy, I swear if you try to get me to stay I will scream."
     She stayed silent.
     "Just go. You've been a great help, really, but I need to leave this place." Markus looked down at his empty plate until she left. Once he heard her footsteps fade he leapt off of the bed, wobbling a bit before he could find some balance. He stretched and grabbed his clothes from the desk. Markus sighed in relief when he put on regular clothes rather than the uncomfortable hospital ones. He looked in the mirror and shuddered. He was in desperate need of a haircut and a shower, and his clothes definitely needed to be washed. He picked the fuzz off of his dark red hoodie and tried to wash off a dried blood stain from his shirt.
     "Let's do this," he said to no one in particular. Markus grabbed the paper with an address written on it. He slipped out the door and kept his head down until he got to reception. When the nurse at the front desk looked away he scribbled a random signature under his name and slipped away again through the entrance.

     The chilly February air nipped at his nose, and tendrils of steam curled in front of him with every exhale. It was getting dark, and he needed to get to his destination before it got colder. Markus gripped the paper and snuck onto a public transit bus. He found a seat in the back near the heater and leaned his head on the fogged glass to sleep.
     What felt like a few minutes must've been hours. Markus was woken up by the bus driver calling out for the end of the line. The remaining passengers filed out and into an unfamiliar neighborhood. Markus mentally cursed and looked at the bus map. South Manhattan. He sighed with relief since his destination was in this neighborhood. Markus wandered the streets until he saw the street signs labeling the corner of Everset and Washington. Markus took one last glance at the paper and looked for the apartment number. He saw a door marked 208 and moved to the base of the stairs. The breeze swept leaves to the door, like an odd force was trying to pulling him in. He debated on whether he should go further, but since he had nothing to lose, he made his way up.
     As he reached the top, Markus couldn't help but feel uneasy. Endless possibilities wrestled through his mind as he walked. He stood in front of a dark mahogany door and it opened before he could touch the handle. Immediately, his senses were overridden with the smell of cinnamon and chamomile. The room seemed hazy, most likely from the burning incense in all corners. The floors were dark oak and the walls were aged brick. Shelves lined the shop with artifacts, books, jewelry, and many more oddities. Plants covered the counters, shelves, and trailed down the shelf ends. He spotted an array of succulents, vines, and ivy that climbed the walls and filled cracks in the brick. The lights were hovering close to the large window in the ceiling with nothing suspending them. Markus reached out to touch a hovering dark purple crystal that had caught his eye. Before he could lay a finger on it a voice cut through the silence.
     "I wouldn't touch that if I were you."