Blue Castaway by Rod Mertes
The evening moon summoned forth a batch of wandering clouds from the darkness of forever. They huddled together in front of the moon like soldiers forming around their commander. The clouds remained motionless, as if waiting for some secret orders for the night.
Like good soldiers, once adequately briefed, they were off to carry out their assigned mission. On that particular night, the mission was to spread moonlight madness on the unsuspecting world below. They made their descent, moving at a snail’s pace. Once earthbound, they made their way stealthily through the suburban streets.
Malvada stood thoughtfully at her living room window, paying slight attention to the unusual summer fog. Her beady eyes shifted upward. She admired several waves of clouds as they presented a slide show of shapes in front of the moon. Her focus shifted once again to the upper right corner of the window. There she saw a small, brown house spider diligently working its web. It would attach a strand to the highest point of the web, then drop to the lowest; trailing a moist, new thread as it glided down. Working from an innate blueprint, it positioned each sticky strand as perfectly as the one before. Malvada marveled at the precision and graceful motions of her tiny artisan.
“You have enviable talents and qualities, you little bastard,” she mumbled.
As she watched it work, she wiped her hand against her soiled, black dress and raised it deliberately toward the web. She waited until the spider reversed course and traversed down again. When it reached the bottom, she broke through the delicate spider work with her hand and maneuvered the spider onto her less than steady palm. She eagerly grasped the spider between the wrinkled index finger and knobby thumb of her other hand and crushed it savagely.
Malvada smiled decisively, displaying her rotten, black teeth and an equally black tongue. She scrutinized the splattered spider guts on her fingers and then brought them to her eager mouth. She slid her tongue across the fingertips and licked them clean; leaving a solitary spider leg sticking to her lower lip.
She stared into the moonlight and said, “What do you have for me tonight, old friend?” The clouds glided past the moon, allowing her an unobstructed view.
She listened intently and smiled once again. “You bring the news I've been waiting and longing for. Like the spider, my life too shall soon be forfeit. I see a three-headed creature, consumed with drunken rage. It will come screaming and meet me in the darkness. It will divide itself and spit red-hot fireballs at me.” Malvada looked around her living room and then at the floor. She rubbed her chin and looked back at the moon. “Those fireballs will suck the life from this tired, old body…a body way too tired to fight any new battles. I am glad of it. It shall finally be my turn. I’m ready to feed the flesh of my body to the creature and let it have its pleasure. I’ll permit it to savor the victorious juices of its insane rampage, but once again, I will not allow it to vanquish my soul.”
Malvada crossed the room and eased her thin frame into her favorite, black rattan chair. She raised a filthy glass from the floor and eyed its contents. It was filled with a grimy elixir that looked like it had been scooped from a septic tank. As she swallowed the last drop, she wiped her lips with the back of her wrinkled, old hand. She let the glass fall to the floor and uttered, “Alas, time to prepare.” She patted the armchair and continued, “Don’t worry, my dear, old friend. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of. We will have to alter your diet somewhat. I hope you don’t mind.” She rose slowly and adjusted an entangled, pewter pendant hanging around her neck.
The charm, attached to a very worn, black strip of leather, was her most prized possession. It was given to her by her mother many years prior and never left Malvada’s body. It had been her intention to give the ancient pentagram to her daughter or someone equally worthy. Much to her dismay, she was denied both.
She smoothed the folds in her dress and gradually made her way to the center of her living room. She stopped at the edge of her Persian rug, its glamour now just something to reminisce about, and gave a sharp snap of her fingers. As she did, the rug rolled itself up and exposed rotten, barely stable, floorboards. Then Malvada walked to a dusty, wooden bookcase and removed three Mason jars filled with powdery substances. She shuffled back to the newly exposed section of floor and twisted open the lid of the first jar. With a grand, sweeping motion, she scattered a black powder with tiny green specks. When the last of the powder settled to the floor, Malvada spoke the beginning words of what would be her final chant.
“Chimey yok, chimey yok…weotic!”
Then she opened the second jar and sprinkled a bright yellow powder on top of the black. Again she chanted, “Rebada jokay, rebada jokay…weotic!”
Malvada popped the lid to the final jar and poured a blue and white powder over the others. She turned her head sharply toward the bookcase, thrust out her arm and chanted, “Selonic eback, selonic eback…weotic!” As she chanted, a book flew across the room at lightning speed and slammed into the palm of her hand. She brought it before her face, kissed it as gently as though it were a newborn baby and tossed it to the ceiling. When it crashed into a rafter, the book burst into blue and white flames. Within seconds, the book was reduced to multicolored ashes that floated down and settled into the powdery recipe forming on the floor.
Malvada removed a small vial from her dress pocket, unscrewed the lid and let a slow glob of spit run into the opening. Then she shattered the contents in the center of the powdery mess. She stomped her right foot violently on the floor and closed her incredibly baggy eyes. When she raised her eyelids, her eyeballs were as fluid and as black as raw crude oil. She raised the index finger from each hand and simultaneously scratched a few drops of the fluid from each eye. She touched the border of the granular circle with her fingertips while they were still wet. Then she stood back and watched as the assorted powders started shifting and swirling. The floor vibrated, causing everything in the room to shake slightly. After a few minutes, the shifting powders produced a crude looking image of the United States.
Malvada moved to a cluttered corner of the living room, removed a long, black pole and returned to the swirling mass. Atop the pole was a shiny black, glass ball, being somewhat larger than a tennis ball.
“Well, good friend, you and I have shared a lot and have fought our share of battles. We have won most and faired well in all. We have tasted the life fluid of our enemies and they ours. We’ve been admired, feared and hated. As such, our existence demands constant vigilance and frequent violent encounters. Their pursuit is relentless. Our peace is not of this world. I am tired and want to battle no more. Our romance has reached its peak and now we are looking at the last chapter.” Malvada kissed the glass ball and said, “It’s your last performance so make it your absolute best.”
Malvada grabbed the pole with both hands and clenched it tightly. “Do it. Do it now!” Seconds later, the glass ball began to spin at a furious rate. As it did, blue arcs of electrical energy danced wildly from its core and ran the length of the pole.
Malvada lifted the pole over her head and touched the bottom of it to her table radio. The radio vibrated, gave off a high-frequency sound and disintegrated into a fine white powder. The powder was then sucked into the pole like a vacuum cleaner.
She spun around and stabbed the bottom of the pole into the swirling map. More blue arcs raced down the pole, met the map and created spectacular red sparks. The radio, turned white powder, was released from inside the pole and sucked into the map where the red sparks were. The illuminated area of the country looked very similar to the state of California.
Malvada laughed hideously, raised the pole over her head and tapped a jigsaw puzzle encased in a baby blue box. Like the radio, it turned into a powder and was also sucked into the pole. Again, she drove the pole into the map. This time the pole made its mark on the state of Illinois. As before, there were brilliant red sparks and the puzzle was sucked into the map.
She quickened the pace and her laughter grew deeper and louder. The stench of vomit ema
nated from her mouth as she laughed, filling the entire house with the nauseating smell.
Malvada repeated the process time and time again with all of her personal belongings until most everything she owned was gone. The only items remaining were a few lit candles, a couple of red flower vases and some empty, green wine bottles sitting on termite-infested window bases.
Suddenly, the few remaining glass windowpanes began shattering around her. It came as no surprise to her. She was ready. The creature she awaited had arrived with the drifting fog. She glanced out the window and looked skyward. The moon had slipped behind the passing clouds so it would be spared the ordeal of watching its friend leave in so violent a fashion.
She raised her black pole over her head and as she did, she felt a sharp, burning pain in her chest. She screamed loudly. It wasn’t a scream of physical pain though. She had finished her business and the scream sealed the curse. The wheels were turning and nothing could stop the pain that would follow. Nothing could prevent her final act of revenge.
Malvada cupped her hand and put it to the open wound in her chest, allowing it to fill with a dark red blood of sorts. She dropped to her knees, let the blood flow through her fingers and drip onto the map below. As she did, she said, “And this shall become the new sustenance that you will require to nourish your souls.” Then she peeled a small chunk of flesh from her wound and threw it into the center of the map. “And this shall become your new food…your reason for being!”
Malvada rose to her feet, kissed the pole like a departing lover and broke it in half over one of her knees. She held the two pieces tenderly for a moment or two, then tossed them gently into the center of the churning map. As the pieces landed, there were more blue electrical sparks and the pole was gone. The map stopped swirling and the myriad of powders became completely motionless. The room became dead silent. Another fireball shattered the silence and lodged in the mortar between the fireplace bricks.
Malvada raised her right arm over the still powders and began turning it in large clockwise circles. Her arm rotated faster and faster. The room began to vibrate once again, its intensity increasing as her arm moved faster. Then she stopped and pointed to a broken windowpane. Her eyebrows were arched so high they nearly touched her scalp. The powders on the floor continued to vibrate and delivered a variety of high-frequency sounds.
“WEOTIC - NOW!!!!” she commanded in an eerie scream. The final spell had been cast…the final curse put into action.
The vibrating powders flew out the broken window at blinding speed. They climbed aboard prevailing winds and were spread throughout the United States.
She surveyed the area and noting that the last speck of powder was gone, turned to the window and said in a deep, low voice, “May greed be your keeper and ignorance be your lover!”
Malvada moved with anticipation to the front door and prepared to meet the creature. It would not only end her existence, it would also bear the responsibility for the end of many others as well. In Malvada’s heartless eyes, there were no living, innocent human beings on earth. Not anywhere. Not at any time.
It would take several years and travel thousands of miles before Malvada’s final curse would work its evil on scores of lives. There were no boundaries, absolutely no restrictions. It would work on any living creature, (with emphasis being on human beings), who dared to get too close or wanted something for nothing. The curse would work its evil on all. All except one that is.
The execution of her curse on a victim could be quick and over in a matter of seconds, or it could linger and savor a victim’s prolonged pain and anguish. It would prove to be most devastating to a young man from Mississippi, named Paul Porter, and a young Midwestern girl, named Helen Wagner. Malvada’s curse would spin their world completely upside down and inside out. It would turn day into nightmare.
CHAPTER SIX
HELEN
Like good soldiers, once adequately briefed, they were off to carry out their assigned mission. On that particular night, the mission was to spread moonlight madness on the unsuspecting world below. They made their descent, moving at a snail’s pace. Once earthbound, they made their way stealthily through the suburban streets.
Malvada stood thoughtfully at her living room window, paying slight attention to the unusual summer fog. Her beady eyes shifted upward. She admired several waves of clouds as they presented a slide show of shapes in front of the moon. Her focus shifted once again to the upper right corner of the window. There she saw a small, brown house spider diligently working its web. It would attach a strand to the highest point of the web, then drop to the lowest; trailing a moist, new thread as it glided down. Working from an innate blueprint, it positioned each sticky strand as perfectly as the one before. Malvada marveled at the precision and graceful motions of her tiny artisan.
“You have enviable talents and qualities, you little bastard,” she mumbled.
As she watched it work, she wiped her hand against her soiled, black dress and raised it deliberately toward the web. She waited until the spider reversed course and traversed down again. When it reached the bottom, she broke through the delicate spider work with her hand and maneuvered the spider onto her less than steady palm. She eagerly grasped the spider between the wrinkled index finger and knobby thumb of her other hand and crushed it savagely.
Malvada smiled decisively, displaying her rotten, black teeth and an equally black tongue. She scrutinized the splattered spider guts on her fingers and then brought them to her eager mouth. She slid her tongue across the fingertips and licked them clean; leaving a solitary spider leg sticking to her lower lip.
She stared into the moonlight and said, “What do you have for me tonight, old friend?” The clouds glided past the moon, allowing her an unobstructed view.
She listened intently and smiled once again. “You bring the news I've been waiting and longing for. Like the spider, my life too shall soon be forfeit. I see a three-headed creature, consumed with drunken rage. It will come screaming and meet me in the darkness. It will divide itself and spit red-hot fireballs at me.” Malvada looked around her living room and then at the floor. She rubbed her chin and looked back at the moon. “Those fireballs will suck the life from this tired, old body…a body way too tired to fight any new battles. I am glad of it. It shall finally be my turn. I’m ready to feed the flesh of my body to the creature and let it have its pleasure. I’ll permit it to savor the victorious juices of its insane rampage, but once again, I will not allow it to vanquish my soul.”
Malvada crossed the room and eased her thin frame into her favorite, black rattan chair. She raised a filthy glass from the floor and eyed its contents. It was filled with a grimy elixir that looked like it had been scooped from a septic tank. As she swallowed the last drop, she wiped her lips with the back of her wrinkled, old hand. She let the glass fall to the floor and uttered, “Alas, time to prepare.” She patted the armchair and continued, “Don’t worry, my dear, old friend. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of. We will have to alter your diet somewhat. I hope you don’t mind.” She rose slowly and adjusted an entangled, pewter pendant hanging around her neck.
The charm, attached to a very worn, black strip of leather, was her most prized possession. It was given to her by her mother many years prior and never left Malvada’s body. It had been her intention to give the ancient pentagram to her daughter or someone equally worthy. Much to her dismay, she was denied both.
She smoothed the folds in her dress and gradually made her way to the center of her living room. She stopped at the edge of her Persian rug, its glamour now just something to reminisce about, and gave a sharp snap of her fingers. As she did, the rug rolled itself up and exposed rotten, barely stable, floorboards. Then Malvada walked to a dusty, wooden bookcase and removed three Mason jars filled with powdery substances. She shuffled back to the newly exposed section of floor and twisted open the lid of the first jar. With a grand, sweeping motion, she scattered a black powder with tiny green specks. When the last of the powder settled to the floor, Malvada spoke the beginning words of what would be her final chant.
“Chimey yok, chimey yok…weotic!”
Then she opened the second jar and sprinkled a bright yellow powder on top of the black. Again she chanted, “Rebada jokay, rebada jokay…weotic!”
Malvada popped the lid to the final jar and poured a blue and white powder over the others. She turned her head sharply toward the bookcase, thrust out her arm and chanted, “Selonic eback, selonic eback…weotic!” As she chanted, a book flew across the room at lightning speed and slammed into the palm of her hand. She brought it before her face, kissed it as gently as though it were a newborn baby and tossed it to the ceiling. When it crashed into a rafter, the book burst into blue and white flames. Within seconds, the book was reduced to multicolored ashes that floated down and settled into the powdery recipe forming on the floor.
Malvada removed a small vial from her dress pocket, unscrewed the lid and let a slow glob of spit run into the opening. Then she shattered the contents in the center of the powdery mess. She stomped her right foot violently on the floor and closed her incredibly baggy eyes. When she raised her eyelids, her eyeballs were as fluid and as black as raw crude oil. She raised the index finger from each hand and simultaneously scratched a few drops of the fluid from each eye. She touched the border of the granular circle with her fingertips while they were still wet. Then she stood back and watched as the assorted powders started shifting and swirling. The floor vibrated, causing everything in the room to shake slightly. After a few minutes, the shifting powders produced a crude looking image of the United States.
Malvada moved to a cluttered corner of the living room, removed a long, black pole and returned to the swirling mass. Atop the pole was a shiny black, glass ball, being somewhat larger than a tennis ball.
“Well, good friend, you and I have shared a lot and have fought our share of battles. We have won most and faired well in all. We have tasted the life fluid of our enemies and they ours. We’ve been admired, feared and hated. As such, our existence demands constant vigilance and frequent violent encounters. Their pursuit is relentless. Our peace is not of this world. I am tired and want to battle no more. Our romance has reached its peak and now we are looking at the last chapter.” Malvada kissed the glass ball and said, “It’s your last performance so make it your absolute best.”
Malvada grabbed the pole with both hands and clenched it tightly. “Do it. Do it now!” Seconds later, the glass ball began to spin at a furious rate. As it did, blue arcs of electrical energy danced wildly from its core and ran the length of the pole.
Malvada lifted the pole over her head and touched the bottom of it to her table radio. The radio vibrated, gave off a high-frequency sound and disintegrated into a fine white powder. The powder was then sucked into the pole like a vacuum cleaner.
She spun around and stabbed the bottom of the pole into the swirling map. More blue arcs raced down the pole, met the map and created spectacular red sparks. The radio, turned white powder, was released from inside the pole and sucked into the map where the red sparks were. The illuminated area of the country looked very similar to the state of California.
Malvada laughed hideously, raised the pole over her head and tapped a jigsaw puzzle encased in a baby blue box. Like the radio, it turned into a powder and was also sucked into the pole. Again, she drove the pole into the map. This time the pole made its mark on the state of Illinois. As before, there were brilliant red sparks and the puzzle was sucked into the map.
She quickened the pace and her laughter grew deeper and louder. The stench of vomit ema
Malvada repeated the process time and time again with all of her personal belongings until most everything she owned was gone. The only items remaining were a few lit candles, a couple of red flower vases and some empty, green wine bottles sitting on termite-infested window bases.
Suddenly, the few remaining glass windowpanes began shattering around her. It came as no surprise to her. She was ready. The creature she awaited had arrived with the drifting fog. She glanced out the window and looked skyward. The moon had slipped behind the passing clouds so it would be spared the ordeal of watching its friend leave in so violent a fashion.
She raised her black pole over her head and as she did, she felt a sharp, burning pain in her chest. She screamed loudly. It wasn’t a scream of physical pain though. She had finished her business and the scream sealed the curse. The wheels were turning and nothing could stop the pain that would follow. Nothing could prevent her final act of revenge.
Malvada cupped her hand and put it to the open wound in her chest, allowing it to fill with a dark red blood of sorts. She dropped to her knees, let the blood flow through her fingers and drip onto the map below. As she did, she said, “And this shall become the new sustenance that you will require to nourish your souls.” Then she peeled a small chunk of flesh from her wound and threw it into the center of the map. “And this shall become your new food…your reason for being!”
Malvada rose to her feet, kissed the pole like a departing lover and broke it in half over one of her knees. She held the two pieces tenderly for a moment or two, then tossed them gently into the center of the churning map. As the pieces landed, there were more blue electrical sparks and the pole was gone. The map stopped swirling and the myriad of powders became completely motionless. The room became dead silent. Another fireball shattered the silence and lodged in the mortar between the fireplace bricks.
Malvada raised her right arm over the still powders and began turning it in large clockwise circles. Her arm rotated faster and faster. The room began to vibrate once again, its intensity increasing as her arm moved faster. Then she stopped and pointed to a broken windowpane. Her eyebrows were arched so high they nearly touched her scalp. The powders on the floor continued to vibrate and delivered a variety of high-frequency sounds.
“WEOTIC - NOW!!!!” she commanded in an eerie scream. The final spell had been cast…the final curse put into action.
The vibrating powders flew out the broken window at blinding speed. They climbed aboard prevailing winds and were spread throughout the United States.
She surveyed the area and noting that the last speck of powder was gone, turned to the window and said in a deep, low voice, “May greed be your keeper and ignorance be your lover!”
Malvada moved with anticipation to the front door and prepared to meet the creature. It would not only end her existence, it would also bear the responsibility for the end of many others as well. In Malvada’s heartless eyes, there were no living, innocent human beings on earth. Not anywhere. Not at any time.
It would take several years and travel thousands of miles before Malvada’s final curse would work its evil on scores of lives. There were no boundaries, absolutely no restrictions. It would work on any living creature, (with emphasis being on human beings), who dared to get too close or wanted something for nothing. The curse would work its evil on all. All except one that is.
The execution of her curse on a victim could be quick and over in a matter of seconds, or it could linger and savor a victim’s prolonged pain and anguish. It would prove to be most devastating to a young man from Mississippi, named Paul Porter, and a young Midwestern girl, named Helen Wagner. Malvada’s curse would spin their world completely upside down and inside out. It would turn day into nightmare.
CHAPTER SIX
HELEN