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    Invnarcel
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Wicked - 5. Kyle 3

From across her glass-cut table Marie Humberdross probed her forehead, looking out with eyes closed.

"I really do feel for you, this is some crazy shit." she murmured.

The fact she didn't consider herself too mystical to swear in front of me, and the fact she still wasn't charging me money, only being interested in helping a friend of a friend that she felt was in trouble, made me really start to think there was something to her power after all. My body rejected terms like spirit guides, chakras and worst of all... magic. It was intangible nonsense, none of it had a clear practical basis. But what if somewhere within the nonsense there was a little credence. Human power that many still didn't take seriously because it was nestled in all the bullshit.

My friend Kim had got us in touch again, she was sitting by the counter stool and leaning over to scratch behind the old corgi dog's ears. Marie Humberdross's hair was piled up in a colourful African head wrap, her face was shiny and smooth like an Ethiopian beauty. We were sitting barefoot on her soft white carpet, glasses of melting ice sitting beside us from the grapefruit drink she'd proffered. Her lacquered nails shone as she scratched her forehead and breathed deeply.

"So..." she sighed and adjusted her sitting before getting into it "There's mental instability here, he's a mentally unbalanced person. This is the kind of person who loves attention and tries to get it wherever they can. He gets off to himself too, thinks he's real hot shit. This guy is very sexually active, with lots of different people. I wouldn't be surprised if he was involved in sex groups or something like that. There's drug use and trouble with the law."

She turned her head the other way, nails itching her forehead "He wanted to be great but wasn't smart enough. He's sensitive too, not in a good way – sensitive to criticism and things like that, he doesn't care if he hurts someone. This person plays with their image a lot, different people see them in different ways. And he's not interested in genuine relationships, for him it's all about control. He's spoiled and sour. Judges people quickly. Cunning. He's not going to change, he likes toxicity, I feel major player vibes too. He'd not stop unless you could strip his masculinity away."

"Marie I don't know anybody like that." I leaned across the table, my hands were sweating on the edge of the glass. She lowered her head and paused, digging deeper.

"He thinks of himself as a little prince. I can see past lives, one of him as a noble in China. He was damaged by something past-life, before this incarnation. He has a closed heart chakra and an unbalanced root chakra."

"I don't know what that means or who he could be."

She opened one eye and sighed at me "He's keeping tabs on your social media, stalker-ish. I see... flashes of animals: a scorpion, a wasp, a spider, a snake. The snake is lingering for me, I think it's a metaphor. The snake is an animal without limbs and I feel that likewise this guy is missing parts to him. Like he's underdeveloped, emotionally stunted. He's restless and unsatisfied, always feeling like the grass is greener elsewhere. Has money problems. He wants to control you. I can see a snake around your neck, protecting you, though it may bite you."

"If this guy is keeping tabs on my social media then he's got to be on my friends' list since I set Facebook to private." I commented "Guess I'll go through profiles and see if anyone has any Satanic imagery...?"

"We may very well be dealing with the dark triad."

"What's that? Some kind of occult thing?"

"No." Marie blinked at me. "No, the dark triad are the three major anti-social personality types: Psychopathy, Machiavellianism and Narcissism. My husband has a degree in criminology, and I like to read psychology textbooks from time to time. This guy is definitely a narcissist, and he's probably a psychopath too. He shows signs of all three types, a very dark and self-centered individual."

With a sigh Marie got to her feet "I'm real sorry I can't just give you his name, honey. Dates, timing, names aren't really my thing. Though in the past I've randomly got hits on street signs. The way this guy feels about you is very love-hate, like he's seesawing. Unstable. Be careful, he's very dangerous."

"Thanks so much for all the help!" Kim told her gratefully.

"Yeah, thanks." I was too worried to convey much emotion, she gave me a kind smile.

"All the best, Kyle. If you talk to this person there's a chance you can get them to stop cursing you. But like I said, be careful."

Kim grabbed my arm "You haven't had any more near-accidents have you?"

"No... no... I just can't shake this really bad feeling. Like I know I'm in trouble, and it's something I can't see, run from or defend against..."

The two of them gave me a sympathetic look. Kim and I both thanked Marie again as we left her nice home, her little dog clicking over to get a last look at us before its owner smiled and shut the door. I walked with Kim to her blue car, eyes down and my lips in a hard frown. I still had difficulty believing any of this could be real. And whoever put a curse on me, surely they didn't understand the gravity of what was going on either. Surely whoever it was didn't actually want to commit murder. After meeting me in person they'd snap out of it, we'd be able to sort out whatever the misunderstanding was face-to-face.

"I'll pick you up for school tomorrow," Kim said kindly "So you don't have to catch the bus."

She drove me home. After dinner I tried watching Jonathan Demme's 1991 Silence of the Lambs in my bedroom. It's one of my favorite films, but the ominous nature of the thriller and the recurring theme of psychopathic killers put me off. Reminding me too much of what Marie had said about the dark triad. When Hannibal Lector was in the middle of one of his famed monologues I shut off my desktop. Tried for an early sleep instead. I tossed and turned in the dark. Woke up before sunrise and went back to my computer, started looking through every guy's profile on my Facebook list. I found nothing suspicious.

School was somewhat of a distraction, a nice dose of normalcy. At lunch I sat at a metal table on the bark area, shedding trees around my friends and me as I picked at pieces of a muesli bar. Brody had come over to talk to me and Kim, he was still going on about that new movie, the superhero remake. Jesse from General Maths was also here, munching a crispy apple. Katya was actually doing homework, she was a Russian girl on the school's debate team. A high-achiever, humanitarian type and that really set her apart from everyone else, a girl who was barely an adult yet had her head screwed on right. She had the kind of self-discipline you usually only see in middle-aged people; she was serious but could laugh when indulging in small talk. On the other side of the table, Geoff was her opposite. Curly-haired and chubby-faced, he was quietly stupid. He was so stupid that it was almost a mental disability. According to Brody his whole family was like that; he looked around the table with glazed eyes. If we were drinking and someone dared Geoff to scull from a bottle of vodka he'd do it without asking questions. Literally get so drunk he was comatose.

"Yeah why not," Kim was saying, combing her wheat-blonde hair behind her ears, pulling her sleeves over her wrists as she turned to me "Kyle? Want to come watch movies at mine this afternoon? You can bring one of yours and we'll all vote."

Brody was standing at her side with hands in his pockets, he gave a dramatic groan "Not something from over ten years ago."

"I have someone I'm supposed to see after school, remember?" I hinted.

"How about after?" she pushed "Could help get your mind off things."

"Alright, after."

She looked around the table and directed the question at everyone else, there were nods and murmurs of agreement from all.

After school I told my parents of my evening plans. Changed into casual clothes and went for another walk to that damn dollar store. I could see Ethan stacking shelves through the glass front. Tall and skinny, wearing that stupid reindeer headband that the girl from the other day had on. I took a breath before entering. Seriously not in the mood to see this guy but I had no other choice. The little bell made him turn his head, he blinked at the sight of me. I approached with bunched lips, reeking of discomfort.

"Kyle? What are you doing here?"

"I need to ask you something."

"I'm working." He wanted me to leave. The feeling was mutual. There was no desire between us to associate with each other anymore, the brief chapter we shared had been callous and pathetic. A page of history best left to evaporate and be forgotten.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't important."

He could see my discomfort and believed me, sensing it must be something unrelated to us. He set down the snow-globe he was holding and I struggled with my words. Couldn't think how to even broach the subject with him.

"Do you like, hate me?" I struggled.

"What?" he shook his head "I'm indifferent."

"It seems like someone is trying to hurt me. I'm trying to figure out who it might be."

"I'm the one who broke up with you, and you agreed it was a good idea." He had a lip piercing now. I vaguely wondered what was going on in his life. Then again, it wasn't like I'd known what was going on in his life when we were actually dating. I suddenly felt a very intense desire to leave.

"I should go. I knew it wouldn't be you, I guess I just had to be sure."

"If someone's trying to hurt you go to the police. That sounds fucked, and good luck. But yeah, go to the police."

"Right. Thanks." It came out as a grunt. I turned and left him.

What a way to spoil my afternoon, reopening that can of worms. When out of the shop I could have a breath of relief, clearing my head and making my way back up the sloping footpath. I'd not found any suspicious profiles on my Facebook friends' list. There were two other viable options. One boy I'd had conversations with over text for months. I'd driven forty minutes to his hometown to finally meet and he never showed up, most likely he was a coward. He gave me a lame excuse and when I didn't reply he eventually unfriended me because I wasn't giving him any attention. I later sent him another request and he accepted, but neither of us have said anything. The second boy I'd spoken to for a month before meeting him twice at different McDonalds venues. He'd seemed uninterested, rude even, I wasn't in the mood to chase so after he didn't reply to one of my messages I let it fall to the wayside. He was ethnic, Middle Eastern I think, and a very talented painter. Though his stuff was dark and gruesome. Could that be enough of an indication of psychopathy?

It had to be one of those two boys, and I was more inclined to suspect the second. What else was I to do? Go through Grindr and Tinder rereading every conversation? There were too many. And if this guy was someone I'd only messaged once or twice over the phone he'd have to be well and truly insane.

I was almost past the shops when my phone rang, I answered Kim.

"When do you think you'll be ready for me to pick you up?" she asked.

"I'm ready now. Just walking back from the shops."

"How'd your talk with Ethan go?"

"It was unpleasant, like I knew it would be. But I'm sure it's not him."

"That's good. Well I suppose it's not... If he's real we'll find him. Hey on second thought stay where you are. I can pick up some snacks when I get you. My fucking cretin brother ate everything in the pantry."

"Okay, I thought of a movie Brody might be okay with."

"We'll pull up to yours and you can run in and grab it."

"Cool. See you soon."

Everyone from lunch was at Kim's house. It was one-storey but stretched long-ways to the back porch, far enough that it was essentially more spacious than my home. Kim's Mum was one of the nicest people I'd ever met, her features were all rounded curves with no harsh edges, an open face. She had an easy laugh, accommodating and breezed between rooms. She was active and did Pilates and Zumba. In the TV cabinet were several exercise and dance DVDs, an exercise ball and rolled-up yoga mat were lined against the wall. She tried encouraging Kim's stout younger brother to watch movies with us but he insisted on playing Minecraft, even had a headset for it. While he returned to his bedroom, Kim's Mum left the house for some evening beach yoga class she was doing with friends. Then she was having dinner with Patricia, her partner and my old boss.

The back porch was above-ground on tall stilts, facing the foresty bushland. Kim and I joined the others at the outdoor table in the cool breeze. Katya was sitting up straight and smelt of grandma perfume. Brody and Jesse were chuckling, Brody was flushed and Jesse's eyes were blazing. Due to the flush on Geoff's ears I guessed they were laughing at his expense. Usually he was too dumb to even know when people were making fun of him, he must have done or said something especially stupid. Around them were glasses of breakfast juice and blackcurrant, a little plate of cheese and crackers in the middle.

When Brody saw us come through the sliding glass door he spotted the DVD I was holding and leaned back with a sigh "Okay movie historian, what'd you get?"

"This one was made in 2012 so no complaining," I showed him the cover "Seven Psychopaths by Martin McDonagh."

"What is it with you and psychopaths?"

"It has a good plot and a decent amount of explosions. A compromise."

He leaned on the back legs of his chair, considering my choice with reluctance.

"Let's all show what we got and then we can have a vote." Kim said as she sidled into a chair.

Katya brought 'Marley and Me', Geoff had 'Stepbrothers', Jesse brought a compendium of the 'Saw' series while Brody had 'Iron Man'. Kim couldn't choose between 'Bridge to Terabithia' and 'Devil Wears Prada'. After much debating we ended up going with Katya's choice. I could've gone with Brody but his teasing attitude of late didn't make me sympathetic. It didn't feel right for him to get his way yet again. The five of us sat in the living room and watched Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston get acquainted with their new pet Labrador. It was supposed to be heartwarming.

Halfway through Geoff lost interest. He was the only one sitting on the floor, he turned and started running his fingers over the gaps in the floorboards.

"Aw no more chips..." Brody's greasy fingers swiped the bottom of the plastic bowl.

"There's another packet in the pantry." Kim told him with eyes fixed to the screen.

As he got up I reached into my pocket to check the time "Oh crap! I left my phone on the bathroom sink at home. I hope Mum hasn't been trying to reach me."

"I can take you back," Jesse offered.

"You don't drive." Katya reminded him while biting the head off a gummy snake.

"We can walk. Would be better than this crappy movie."

"If we walked it'd be twenty minutes at least." I told him.

"I know a shortcut, a bush path that goes around." Jesse said with eyes forward.

I still didn't know him that well, he was tense and weird. Even ten minutes sounded like it'd be nothing but awkward conversation at best.

"Woah is that a Ouija board?" Brody exclaimed from the other room.

"Wrong cupboard!" Kim called out, eyes still glued to the film.

"Can we try it out?" his shaved head rounded the corner. Kim popped an orange snake into her mouth and chewed.

"After the movie."

It was getting dark when my best friend searched her Mum's bathroom for a candle. It would be necessary to make the Ouija board experience more authentic. We sat around her polished-wood coffee table, atop the messy carpet. A poor rendition of being at the psychic, Marie Humberdross's living room. It was dim but not dark, orange sunlight burned through the see-through curtains. Kim lit the candle with an incense lighter. We all did the hand-holding thing while Kim took deep breaths. The others were all eyeing the planchette. They were at least eager to do this for fun, I seemed to be the most skeptical here.

"Envision yourselves in white light, by setting the intention that you are protected you'll make it so." Kim said this in the most mystical way she could, unlike Marie this was all about the theatrics.

"Whatever, can we talk to ghosts now?" Brody rolled his eyes.

Katya smirked while Kim gave him a dirty look. One at a time we all put our hands on the planchette. Kim started asking if there were any spirits nearby that wanted to contact us. Nothing happened for a while.

"Oi ghosts! Speak up if you're there!" Brody yelled and Kim slapped his arm before putting both hands back on the planchette.

Eventually it started to move and the room was abuzz with eagerness and accusations.

"Geoff's pulling it!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Somebody ask another question."

"Kyle?" My best friend asked and I looked up at all the staring faces. I thought for a moment before speaking.

"Is somebody trying to kill me?"

The other teens were quiet. Slowly the planchette started to move in the flickering candlelight, it landed on 'yes' at the bottom of the board. Another flurry of excitement, only Kim and I were quiet and serious. Was Brody pulling another prank?

I cleared my throat "Who? Who is trying to kill me?"

The planchette moved and everyone stooped over the table, adding each letter and sounding it out until the name was spelt out entirely.

"Lilith."

Copyright © 2020 Invnarcel; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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