Lost Souls 
by Kat Yares

 

The man stood motionless at the large picture window overlooking the street below. It was a perfect Friday night. A pregnant and heavy full October blood moon loomed over the horizon rising into a brilliant starlit sky. A thin smile was on his lips as he thought of how everything was in place: the moon, the stars, the day. It was All Hallows Eve, the high holy day of the dead. Patiently waiting, he watched the road. Occasionally he saw a child, costumed in the latest cartoon character craze or possibly a more traditional ghost, witch or vampire, run from house to house, candy bag open, expectation of special treats shown in their squeals of delight.


For Amos Mallory, it was indeed a special Halloween night. One of promise, one of expectation, one of special desires coming to fruition. For Amos, this Halloween was the one that his late wife would return to him. To sit in the leather chair beside the fire, share a brandy and conversation. It had taken him ten years to figure out how, but now there was nothing left to do but the ritual itself.


The candles were in place, the pentacle drawn upon the floor and Laura's body placed within the center of the five-pointed star. Amos looked down upon his wife. She was as beautiful as the day she had died. The fact that her body had been stolen from the morgue was now a distant memory and unsolved mystery in the minds of the community of High Gap. The freezer he had purchased to preserve her beauty had never let him down, The gentle hum soothing him in the basement corner while he researched and learned the secrets of reanimating his beloved.


Now, he was confident he was ready. All was prepared. He only needed one soul to exchange for the soul of his dear Laura and she would again be at his side. He would not have to wait long now. Young Timothy Bryan would be knocking on his door, to again torment him and expect a treat. What the poor young punk did not realize was this year the trick would be on him.


Amos expected few, if any, trick or treater's this year. Since the death of his wife, he had been marked by the town as an eccentric; someone to keep your kids away from. Only the small town hoodlums dared to taunt him, always teasing, always cruel. Those ones would come to his door this night. Amos sat in the rocker behind the large picture window watching the walkway. Timothy was sure to come, he always did.

A few minutes past eleven, Amos' perseverance paid off. The doorbell rang its shill buzzer repeatedly, as if a finger were stuck on the button. Amos opened the door, a broad smile on his usually somber face.


"Hey, Old Man. You'd best have some candy or something to treat me with if you know what's good for you."


"I've been waiting for you Timothy."


"Yeah right. So what's the treat?"


"I don't have one."


"Well, you better cough up some cash then or believe me, old man, you ain't going to like my trick."


"Yes, well...maybe I can come up with something, young Timothy."


"Quit calling me that. It's just Tim. Got it?"


Amos continued to smile. "Why don't you follow me, just Tim, and I'll see what I can come up with."


Timothy stood on the porch and stared at the old man. For the first time, the kid appeared nervous. He looked over his shoulder, as if hoping that his friends were around. All he saw was an empty street. Putting his hands in his jeans pockets, he said, "OK, show me what you got." and followed the older man inside.


Amos led him toward the stairway. He turned back and looked at the young man. The boy didn't appear to be so brave now. A look of confusion caused a deep crease to appear between the boy's brow, his dark eyes were wide and he was constantly licking his lips with his tongue as if his mouth were dry. One hand went up to push his stringy blond hair from his face.


"Where you taking me, man?" his bravado attempting to keep his fear at bay.


"Just upstairs where I keep my wallet. It is cash you want, correct?"


"Old man, you better make this worth it."


"Trust me, just Tim, this will be the most valuable treat you've ever received." Amos could see the greed in the boy's eyes. "Follow me."


Reaching the room at the end of the upstairs hall, Amos opened the door. The carefully placed candles made the room fully illuminated and by the time Timothy caught up with him, he was ready.


"What the hell?" the boy asked, catching sight of what was in the center of the room.


Before he could turn and run Amos had the chloroform soaked rag over his mouth and nose. Within moments, the young man relaxed in his arms; passed out cold.


"Well, young Timothy...excuse me, just Tim. You are in for a very special treat tonight. This will be the greatest trick I have ever done."


The older man placed the boy's body in a heavy upholstered straight back chair. Almost lovingly, he tied the young mans wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair. When he was satisfied his captive was secure; he went over to his wife's cold, immobile body.


"Only a few more moments love." he said, stroking her gray, colorless face. He rose to his feet and walked to the corner where a pedestal stood centered within a circle. Walking around the circle three times clockwise, he chanted 'LUOS TSOL ESIR"redundantly. At the end of the incantation, he turned in the opposite direction and repeated the rite with a different chant.


Upon completion, he walked to the pedestal and began turning the pages of the large book placed on the stand.


Reading again the printed words, he nodded to himself and began the incantation. Over and over, he repeated the words until his voice began to crack and his throat ached. Amos felt dizzy. He could feel a presence here in this room with him. Suddenly the chair that held the bound Timothy Bryan crashed to the floor. Amos glanced at the boy, and could tell he had not yet regained consciousness. He continued with his ritual chant.


He watched as his wife's fingers began to move. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw it was a minute to midnight. The moment when all departed souls were free to walk the earth once more.


He chanted more fervently, knowing that his wife's spirit was now with him. His wife began moving her arms and legs until finally she was sitting in an upright position.


She shook her head. Her long blond hair flowing loosely. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the room.


"I think you can stop now, Amos. You don't want to call back more than you expect."


Amos collapsed in a heap on the floor. Tears ran from his eyes. He had done it. Laura was home now. She was alive. No longer would he be alone.


Laura stood and walked over to where Timothy lay on the floor. "Isn't that the Bryan's little boy?" A frown clouded her features. "Was he still a punk kid? I remember him."


Amos could only nod. She even had her memories. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.


"Laura, my darling Laura. You have returned to me."


For a long moment, the blond woman only stared at the man sitting on the floor in the corner. A smile broke on her lips, her eyes dancing with laughter.


"Returned to you? Not in your wildest dreams. I was leaving you when I had that damned accident. What makes you think I would stay now?"


Amos could hear the bitterness in her voice. He had forgotten that fight years before when she had walked out. All he had remembered was the devastation he felt when he learned she was dead.


"Laura, my darling, I've bought you back. Surely you won't leave me now."

"You make it sound like I owe you something. I owe you nothing. I will not be trapped in a miserable existence like before."


"I promise you Laura, it will be different. I'll make it all up to you."


"Not a chance."


With that, Laura Mallory blew her husband a kiss, turned and walked out of the room. Between his sobs, Amos heard her descend the stairs and the front door slam. He had risked everything to bring her back and now he was left with only more heartbreak, and the body of the teenager to deal with.


Hearing the sound of splintering wood, he lifted his head from his hands, hoping beyond hope that his darling had returned. What he did see was Timothy Bryan, his dark eyes now soulless white, his face contorted with rage walking toward him. It was then, he screamed.

