SEPTEMBER 5, 2019
In the middle of my room in New Hampshire, I sat alone, surrounded by packing boxes. The things which used to be in here were now either in the trash bag or in cardboard boxes. My dartboard was in the trash, and the Top Gun poster was with my neighbor along with the LOTR series of novels (I gave it myself). I could hear Aunt Jan talking to the movers and packers on the phone downstairs in the living room.
In a week, Jace, Olly, and I would be moving in with her in Oregon. Grandpa was now living in an old-age home beside a hospice in Colorado. He had been diagnosed with lung cancer and was counting the last of his days. Lucifer was still working in the Moonfall Cafe in spite of me begging him to leave Dorick.
In my hand was Pet Sematary by Stephen King.
"What you got there?" asked Jan, entering my room.
"Just a horror novel."
"You don't need to read stuff like that," she said with a tensed countenance.
"Yes, I do," I said. "At least I won't have any surprises when I go to a cursed town in the future."
"Kay," said she. "But you don't have to worry anymore."
"No. I don't," I said. "I burnt that shithole after all."
Jan looked terrified.
The same way Mom had been when she got the blue rose envelope.
"What was that you said?" she asked me.
"I-uh, I burnt it," said I, "set it on fire, you know, to 'free' Barbara's soul."
I just realized what I had said. I freed Barbara's soul.
Barbara was cruel . . . Barbara's brutal nature . . . Grandpa said.
The only reason she let us go was that she needed us . . . . till the end.
—And it was to burn down the cage, not the animal inside.
YOU ARE READING
UMBRA
TerrorAmidst the colossal redwoods lies the small town of Dorick. Most of it seems ordinary, having a typical morning buzz and people keeping to themselves. But the town has its share of stories and secrets - and the ones who know it are cursed with its k...
