Hauntings (8 page)

              “Let him in.” Randal said. It wasn't Heinrich who choked you, Bridget. Let him in.” Randal seemed to be returning to himself. Bridget agreed.

“Ozzie open the door.” she said. Ozzie looked at the door, but didn't move a muscle. The door silently opened of it's own accord and Heinrich stepped into the room, his head somehow tilted oddly on his neck.

              “That door was locked, I swear it was locked.” Randal said aloud, to himself as much as anyone else in the room.

              “I seem to have dozed off in the other room. Did I miss anything important?” Heinrich asked the small group sincerely concerned that he may have missed an apparition of his beloved Theadora. Ozzie chuckled, Randal laughed hysterically.

              “3:00 AM, the witching hour. Are you game to try again tonight? Or would you prefer to wait until the cock crows?” Heinrich asked with a smile revealing his ancient yellow stained teeth.

              “Some of us haven't had any sleep yet.” Randal ventured.

              “Some of us just awoke from a restful nap.” Ozzie replied.

              “I am glad you are rested then, let's get to work while the spirits are willing.”  Heinrich held out his hands to the others. “               “Let's form a circle, take my hands, please.” with more mindless obedience than enthusiasm Ozzie and Bridget each took one of Heinrich's hands then held theirs out to Randal. Randal sat motionless staring at them as if they just went insane.

              “Take their hands Randal, they won't bite you, will they?” Not knowing why he did it Randal reluctantly took Bridget's hand in his, and then Ozzie's completing Heinrich's circle. Instantly he felt twinge of electricity course through his hands into his arms completing a circuit somewhere within his chest. He felt filthy, he felt defiled.

              “Theadora, hear us.” Heinrich intoned, “Theadora come to us.” Heinrich repeated in a melancholy chant. “Theadora, do you have anything to say to us?” Randal felt a jolt come from Bridget's hand, he looked and her eyes had rolled up into her skull so that only the whites were exposed. Her breathing was heavy, uneven and unnatural, she gripped Randal's hand with strength he didn't suspect she had, then in a hoarse growl she spoke.

              “Heinrich, What are you doing here? Why have you invaded my home? Why do you disturb my peace?”

              “Theadora, I miss you. There is so much I never told you, so many unspoken thoughts.” Pounding echoed from the walls, the door opened and slammed shut so violently Randal thought it would break from its hinges and fall to the floor.

              “Theadora, I love you.” Heinrich pleaded.

              “There is no love here. Why do you call me from my sleep?” Bridget growled.

              “I brought you a gift, a body for your use. A young woman's body, warm flesh for you to inhabit. Take it, take it and keep it, Theadora please, you can live again! We can be together.” He pleaded. A table near the bed took flight and flew across the room smashing into the vanity mirror shattering it into shards and splinters scattering the pieces across the floor. The broken bits of mirror reflected light about the room in an maddening pattern of light. Randal jerked on Bridget's hand.

              “Bridget, snap out of it!” Randal jerked his hand free and took Bridget by the shoulders shaking her.

              “Wake up! Bridget, wake up!”

              “Leave her be!” Heinrich shrieked at him. “You can't stop it now, don't you see it is too late!”

              “Bridget, snap out of it, don't let them take you.” Bridget's head pulled back and she roared in demonic laughter.

              “Theadora, we can be together again.” Heinrich intoned. Randal slapped her across the mouth, but she only laughed all the more holding his gaze, staring at him, laughing at him. He looked at Heinrich for some sign of compassion for the girl, but saw only an evil knowing smile grimaced on his ancient face. Randal glanced at Ozzie. He appeared to be lost in sleep. Randal knew he had to act and act now before it was too late. He turned to Randal and struck him in the face, not once, not twice but again and again knocking him to the floor and then continuing to pummel the old man as if his life depended on it. The the coarse laughter coming from Bridget stopped.

              Heinrich let out a groan and lay motionless on the floor where he fell, his face a bloody mask. Randal Got up from the floor, grabbed Bridget by the blouse, noticing his bloody hands for the first time.
No time to do anything about that now.
He pulled her after him dragging her out of the room. Running in the dark, down the corridor as fast as he could trying to get his bearings ignoring demonic the shadows dancing along the walls, pulling Bridget behind him.  Randal hoped he remembered the way to the great hall and then the exit, but the only thing he knew for sure was he had to get out of there before it was too late.

              Laughter echoed after them.
The old man must be alright. Randal thought,
Randal was relieved, he had feared that he may have seriously injured Heinrich, that he may have killed him. Running for all he was worth, gasping for breath, his breath burning in his throat, he felt the space of the great hall more than saw it. Knowing escape was now within their reach he doubled his efforts. Bridget seemed more awake, more herself now, she appeared to be moving under her own power now, relying less on his strength pulling her along, but running beside him of her own free will. They made it to the opening, it was the great hall, moonlight shown from the windows exposing the great doors of the formal entry.

              “This way!” Randal shouted tugging on Bridget's arm to be sure that she followed him out. They ran up to and into the door. Randal fumbled at the latches unlocking them, glancing behind to be certain Heinrich hadn't followed. Unlocked he tried the doors. It felt as if the doors were pushing back against him. Randal tried again, throwing his weight into the door forcing it open.  A gust of cool fresh autumn air greeted him washing the scent of the vintage mildew of the castle from his lungs. He was out, he had made it! Randal turned back and Bridget stood motionless at the threshold, looking out from within.

              “Bridget, come out of there!”  Randal ordered, but she only stared in his direction. Wanting to run away as far and as fast as he could, but not willing to leave her behind, Randal reached back over the threshold for her, grabbed her arm again and pulled her out into the fresh air. he kept moving until they were safely in the grass near the riverbank. Once there, Randal let himself relax. He let go of Bridget's arm and he let himself fall to the ground exhausted and out of breath.

              Ozzie walked silently approaching from the castle disturbing only the dew wet grass.

              “So you were just going to leave me there?” Ozzie accused with a shallow smile on his face. Randal suddenly felt ashamed, remembering how he left Ozzie alone with Heinrich.
How could I leave Ozzie behind like that, alone with that crazy old man.

             
“I, I would have come back for you.” Randal lied.

              “Sure you would, right after you made sure Bridget was safe. Right?” Ozzie mocked him, he knew the truth and wanted Randal to know he knew. He wanted to make Randal pay.

              “He is dead you know.”

              “What?”

              “Dead as a doornail, no question about that. An old man can't take a beating like the one you gave him, too old and brittle for that sort of thing. Don't you think so Theadora?” Ozzie asked looking to Bridget for confirmation. Bridget nodded.

              “Heinrich, he is dead, you killed him Randal. You know that make you a murderer.” Ozzie replied smiling that same emotionless shallow smile.

              “Come Theadora, it's not safe out here, we had better call the police.” Ozzie said holding his hand out to Bridget. She reached for his and held it tightly, gracefully in her own.

              “It has been so long. I have missed you so much.”

She looked down at Randal one last time.

              “Yes Heinrich, I know. We should go in now it is unseasonably cool this morning, and of course we do need to call the police before he gets away.”

              “Yes darling.”

A Gathering of Sparrows

A Novella

by

Lewis Stanek

Introduction

              Oswald Hubbard PhD, doctor of medieval metaphysics, tenured professor at Leicester University has lost the faith. No longer can he stride into his classroom, look the gaggle of impressionable youth, young adults really, in the eyes and spout the drivel he is so well paid to dispense. The truth is something else, the truth is somewhere else. Oswald Hubbard suspects the truth is not even dreamed of within the covers of the expensive books his eager students are assigned to read, to study, to believe, to base their lives upon. Lies, all lies, damnable lies. Years of persuading the gullible to hold and believe the politically correct lies of the gentry, the unseen ruling class has had it's devious effect on Oswald. Wearing him down like fine sandpaper year after year.  To the casual observer he appears to be more polished, more knowledgeable, a quicker wit than he once was years ago when he first crossed the threshold of Leicester's hallowed halls, but that is all a facade, a mask he wears day to day to hide the inner decay and rot and cancerous growths upon his soul. It is time for a change!

              “I can't take it any more. I can't do this any more!” Oswald spoke aloud to himself, alone in his office. He knew his Medieval Metaphysics 101 class is scheduled to begin in a mere fifteen minutes, but he had no desire to enter his classroom and face the students. Metaphysics is a popular class among freshmen. Fools thinking they will learn the secrets of the universe from a wise old man, but what they get is nothing more than what is needed to be kept docile and easily led mixed in with some high sounding mystical mumbo jumbo. He picked up the phone and dialed .

              “It's me, Oswald.”

              “I'm in a bit of a hurry right now, Oswald, what do you need?” The dean of the School of Metaphysics asked absently, his mind obviously focused on other things.

              “I've got to get away. I can't do it any more. I've need to leave Leicester.”

              “Leave Leicester? That's out of the question. You're needed here Oswald. I can't have one of my finest professors just walk out on me. What of your students? What of the department?“

              “Damn my students! Damn the department! I need to get away.” Oswald slammed the handset into it's cradle. No more than seconds later the telephone on his desk rang. He picked it up.

              “What?”

              “ Oswald I can tell you're upset. We need to have a talk, we need to talk this through and we will, but I can't just now. I need to meet with the board of regents. I have to be there. Please promise me you won't do anything stupid. That you won't walk out on us. At least that you'll wait until you and I can have a serious talk. Alright? Can I count on you to meet with me first, before you make any major decisions? I tell you what, why don't you cancel all of you classes for today and give yourself some time to relax and think things through and we can meet tomorrow to discuss things.”

              Canceling his classes was a tempting thought.

              “Tomorrow then.”

              “Tomorrow” Oswald hung up the telephone, walked out of his office and down the hall. He peered into his classroom from the shadows of the hallway and saw thirty students at their seats, some reading trying to complete assignments at the last minute before class begins, some chatting with their friends. Oswald stepped out of the shadows into the bright artificial light of the fluorescent tubes hanging from the classroom ceiling.  He walked to the lectern at the front of the class. He briefly thought  how much he hated this thing, how standing behind it made him feel pompous, how it divided him from his students. An artificial division at that, after all aren't they and he all seekers after truth what ever that may be. But maybe he needs that division, needs the protection of pomposity to hide his own ignorance. To hide the fact that he knows so little more than they do.

              “Today's class is canceled.” Some in the back got up to leave. A few hands went up in the front with questions.

              “Please continue reading our text. Pay close attention to the finer points of alchemy particularly the effects of the Sorcerer's Stone on the alchemist. I will post further announcements and any changes to the class schedule on my office door some time tomorrow” Oswald ignored the questions and walked out of his classroom leaving his students behind amid the noise of their movement chairs being pushed away from tables, questioning comments to each other, and the rustling of winter garments being gathered up as they followed him out the door.  A girl approached him.

              “Doctor Hubbard, Doctor Hubbard, I need to ask will we still have the midterms as this week? I was hoping that we would have a chance to review with you in class before the test, but now...” She looked absolutely terrified that she may miss a question or two on the midterms without his expert guidance and assistance in the classroom.

              “It will all be made clear tomorrow. I will post what you need to know on my office door.”

              “But will we still have a lab this week?”

              “I will post the changes on my office door. Please try to be patient”. He recognized the girl, but for the life of him couldn't think of her name. She always sat in the front of the class, took copious notes as if every word that fell vacantly from his mouth was a gem that must be treasured forever. He pitied her.

              “It will be all right, I promise. You will have enough time to study before any test, and if I cannot provide that I will simply give grades on classroom participation. You have nothing to worry about.”

              “But what am I to do before then, how can I prepare?” Suddenly her name came to him Tiffany, or was it Cassandra? No it's definitely Tiffany.

              “I'm sorry Tiffany, but something has come up and I need to focus all my attention on that now. Please wait for my note to be posted on the office door. If that doesn't make it clear just knock on the door and maybe we can talk then. This seem to pacify her for the moment and Oswald hurried away.