The Im.Possible

Chapter 9: Madame Zesta

I arrived at what I think was an old mountain shack at the bottom of Ben Nevis in Scotland. It's chipped wood gave it a warn and rough appearance. The door hung by a single hinge and it creaked in the cold air. And branches like arms with twisted, knotted fingers crept around the side of the house. The moon lurked up into the sky, causing the clouds to flee in anguish. And the feeling that someone was behind you, their feet crunching on the dried out ground beneath you began to make me nervous. When you get that bad feeling that something will go wrong in the pit of your stomach, then that's the time to walk away. But that adrenaline inside me pumped into the air and I swallowed it with each breath. Something kept me there. It was the way she was so intrigued about me on the phone to Jordan that forced me to stay. Something was up in the air. It was just up to me to get my telescope and look closer.

Decrepit fingers forced their way between the splinters of wood and the door frame which was black and green like a bog in the dark sky. And then the door stumbled forwards, choking on it's sudden movement. And when I finally soaked in the sudden light like a camera lens, I saw her.

Her straggly hair perched on her shoulders and gripped onto her head. Even though it seemed that the place it clung to was inhabitable, it still clung on for dear life. Her clothes, like old curtains were stained with varieties of texture and colour. And they were so loose because she had no structure for them to hold on to. She was all skin and bones. And the skin that was there was shrivelled and prune-like. And then my eyes passed her crooked smile and her bent nose and reached her eyes. They were hollow pits that sucked you in like a black hole. The bags under her eyes were like a shop-aholics bags from a week at Primark. They were dark and sunken and not something I wanted to stare at for too long.

'Come in.' She said waggling her finger at me, The nail cracked and dented. 

I followed her into the dark room where spider webs literally had seemed to fling themselves across the room. In the center stood a small table which held one candle, it's red wax drooling onto the plate below it. And in the four corners of the room more red candles were lit, shooting light into the incredible dark space that was her home. the curtains barely hing from the hooked and the cotton mess draped across the furniture. And the thing that was the worst part of it all? Littered across the floor, was skeletons. Of human heads.

'You have the bag?' I asked not letting on my nerves in my tone.

'Yes. That is what you came here for.' She pushed through a pile of rubbish and sifted through what seemed to be a black bag of things. When she was done there, she disappeared behind a fly curtain and into the next room. I heard a chuckle and some mumbles before she appeared, clutching a tatty brown bag in her left hand. At which time I noticed she was missing a finger. 'Here. Take it. Don't open.'

'OK.' I said, taking the bag trying not to make contact with her withering skin. And then I looked into those dark eyes, and they threatened to pull me into darkness.

'That's where the secrets come from dear.' She said quietly when she had noticed I was looking at her eyes.

My curiosity got the better of me. 'What kind of secrets?'

'Oh all kinds my dear. But mostly dark, deep secrets.' And she gave me a look, that jolted my gut. 

And just as her hand started reaching out, I decided I'd better leave. For my benefit. This woman was creepy.

'I'd better get back to Jordan.' I said my entire body itching with every breath I took. She seen=med to study my every move.'

'But your talents.' She said.

'What about them?' I asked, feeling a little more confidence starting to seep through.

'They're wonderful.'