Sort of Dead

29 - The Spray-Club Exorcism (Bloodbath Part Two)

AAR'S POV:-

One would think that adults could show a little bit of sense sometimes, but no. Mr. Om - Marra's dear, rich, lovely, duffer, one-armed Uncle – ran in the opposite direction from where his nephew was sucking his Dad's blood.

Gruesome imagery, if you ask me.

Bee was hyperactive; I wonder how fast her neurons shoot. She swiped spaghetti off a plate and shoved it into my hands.

Go, she mouthed.

I was on snooze so at first I didn’t really get what she was saying, but then she yanked me at our monster-friend and I could think of nothing but to smash the plate into his head.

TUUUUUNNNNG!

Contact between the steel plate and Marra's head. The plate bent and flew out of my hands. Marra looked back over his shoulder at me with those bloodshot eyes.

'Sorry?’ I squealed.

But Marra slashed his nails – what?! When did he grow those?! (They were prolly a foot long, like lil dagger-thingies) – at me and I swerved leftwards in panic. My own scream sounded like that of a scared choking walrus to me.

Hey, you can’t blame me! I didn’t wanna die so young!

(Well, I still don’t, but here I am on this stupid quest aboard this stupid plane, ain't I? No judgements.)

So there I lay on the ground while Bee was working hitherto-thitherto-bumbo-jumbo and I saw the moon out the window while I tried to stand up on my two useless legs. The Witch Moon. The Ghost Moon. ‘tever you want to call it.

It was large. Larger and brighter than any moon on any night on any place on Earth.

Like, I felt like if I stood on the second-floor balcony of my place I’d be able to extend an arm and touch it just like that. Like, I’d say wow's a word built for that thing.

So, yeah. Wow.

I could see why spirits and all derived strength from it. Shaking my silly head.

Anyway, then Mr. Om came striding back into the room and he had something like a – I don’t know –  sprinkler in his hand? Sprinkler as in, almost like the kind of spray-bottle salons use sometimes. I don't know how to describe it; use your imagination.

I got up, slipped on some slick stuff – bleeding mommy, was that the blood Marra had spilled – then got up again.

By which time Marra’s Uncle was spraying a watery liquid at his dear blood-sucking nephew, which seemed to agitate the latter to no end and Bee was rushing towards them with a club-stick thingy in her hands.

Apparently, the fluid Mr. Om was spritzing on Marra did wonders. The latter started screaming as if in pain, and I thought I could even see literal steam coming off of his skin, like he was melting or something.

What was it? Holy freaking water?

This looked an awful lot like an exorcism, which I’d never even seen in movies like other kids, being the scaredy-cat that I am (told you I don’t like horror films, and now I’m living in one). So obviously I cringed.

Mr. Om kept spraying that jet onto my friend while muttering gibberish. Marra, in turn, was howling in pain. God, I can’t even imagine.

Then Bee dashed in and swung that club of hers and Mr. Ohm yelled the longest 'noooooo' I’ve ever heard in a proper “Padmé is dead and I’m Darth Vader” voice.

Marra, convulsing and shrieking, jumped meters away and the club instead hit his Dad right on the head.

Oops.

ME: You know, my blessings can make  people happy.

YOU: Oh really, then how do I get your blessings?

ME: Not that hard, actually. Just vote on my book, comment your thoughts and try sharing it with others.

YOU: That's it?

ME: Oh, and one more thing.

YOU: What?

ME: Keep smiling and being the amazing person that you are (◠‿◕)