Darkness Chose Her

“Whatever you do, stay here. The car stays locked, so wait for me to come back, and do not open the door for anyone else unless it’s me.” The young man turned to his passenger; she was an even younger girl, about eight years old.

He had pulled up next to a few other parked cars; they were just off the main road and clustered near a gated entrance. It looked worn down and rusty, but it was busted wide open. A freshly cut padlock and chain lay on the ground nearby. Tonight, the only light was a single streetlamp. Beyond the gate, the moon hung above a rocky road that disappeared into darkness.

On the brick wall next to the gate was a sign: “Vandercroft Estate Museum – Est. 1694.”

“Charlie,” the little girl spoke coldly. “I’m not afraid. I don’t care.” She turned away from him, pouting.

Charlie removed the key from the ignition, opened the door, and locked the car before putting the keys in the glove box. “Rose.” His voice wasn’t as calming a presence for her as he thought it would be. “I have to do this.” He grabbed her hands and held them tightly. “I’ll be back, and hopefully soon.” He brought them up to his lips for two quick kisses on the backs of her hands. “I promise.”

Charlie reached into the back seat to grab a backpack. He went inside it and pulled out a book, some prayer beads, and some gum; he handed it all to Rose. “Keep yourself occupied with this, or if not, try to fall asleep.” Next came an old flip phone. “Don’t call me. I will call you when I am on my way back. I’ll keep the volume on high.” He put it in the center cup holder. “But if anything goes wrong, and it won’t, call for help. If everything goes right, I’ll be back with my friends, and we can all go home before Aunt Hilda comes looking for her car… okay?”

Rose could only stare out the window at the full moon; storm clouds seemed to be settling in. She didn’t answer and only nodded her head.

“Good… I’m sorry. I know we were supposed to have tonight for ourselves, but I’ll make it up to you, and I’ll be back. And please stay put. Don’t leave the car, and don’t come following me. I know you’ll want to, but please, just don’t do it this time.” Charlie slung the backpack over his shoulder as he stepped out of the car. He closed the door, putting his finger into the left-open crack of the window to make sure there was plenty of room for air. He tapped the hood of the car, getting Rose’s attention for one last moment of eye contact before sauntering off beyond the gate.

Charlie entered the darkness. Every few yards, he turned to look back at the small parking lot of cars. Each time he looked back, he could see Rose, and the light grew smaller and smaller to his eye. Eventually, it was gone from sight, and Charlie was alone.

The treetops were dense and barely let moonlight in. The ground was uneven; tree roots invaded the space of old laid stone, making the stones indistinguishable from ragged rock and dirt. It all sounded the same under his shoes as he carefully made his way.

He carried a flashlight, but he noticed it was low on battery. Wanting to conserve power for later, he opted to go ahead by whatever sight his eyes could attune to in the dark.

The crunch of his steps was accompanied by the light whooshing of wind in the branches, the chirp of crickets, and the myriad cries of unseen creatures in the woods. Yet his steady breathing was the only thing he could focus on.

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes had gone by, and Charlie was still walking. He knew it should have been a shorter trip, but his pace was slower so he could be careful with his footing.

His efforts paid off, as he could see moonlight shining more clearly up ahead. There was a clearing within the woods. And in the center of it, at the end of this twisted path, lay something wicked.

As Charlie pushed out of the overgrown brush, he got chills and a terrible feeling. It was a house, an old Victorian. It was massive, painted black as night, and decrepit. Nature had overtaken the exterior in several places and was unforgiving to the craftsmanship built ages ago.

Charlie stopped some yards away and just stared at the house with unease. The spires and towers looked twisted and jagged. With their rough edges, the broken windows glinted in the moonlight like teeth in a ragged maw. Right ahead, the front door was slightly open, and the wind rattled some shutters; it was as though the house was taunting him, mocking and daring him to enter.

Taking a deep breath, he approached the stairs. For a moment, he paused in front of them, struggling to lift his foot to the first step; he gripped his backpack handle tighter, trying to steady his nerves.

Charlie regained his composure. Steeling himself, he unmounted his backpack and reached inside. Pulling out a rosary, he wrapped it around his left hand, fashioning it like a dangling bracelet. Next, he pulled out a vial of water, sprinkling a few drops into the same hand and massaging it into his palm with his fingers. Charlie then traced a moist cross along his forehead and then into the palm of his right hand.

Checking his phone, he looked at the signal. No bars. “Damn,” he muttered to himself. Next, from the bag, he pulled out an army knife and clipped the sheath to his belt.

He carefully made his way up the steps onto the front porch and beelined for the door. Not wanting to back down, he shut his eyes and pushed forward to stop himself from getting cold feet.

Dread washed over him the moment he crossed the threshold. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was suffocating. Like a hand on his neck, gripping and never letting go. He could feel his heart pounding like crazy in a constant rhythm. The bass echoed loudly and more pronounced; in fact, it sounded like a speaker’s bass.

Charlie finally opened his eyes to witness a raucous, loud party happening in the house’s foyer. About forty or so college students were dancing, drinking, and having a great time. Some were hanging out by the stairs talking to each other, and some were in the corner doing keg stands.

Makeshift rave lights darted across the room as Charlie relaxed and put his knife away. Scanning around the room, he saw his target and made a beeline, weaving through the crowd.

They stood around looking content with the party, drinks in their hands and happy smiles. The one facing the right direction saw a familiar figure approaching.

“Whoa.” One of them looked shocked.

The other two spun around and reacted the same.

“Charlie!” the three voices all exclaimed at once, and the three people ran over to greet him.

“Oh, you’re here,” Ricky exclaimed.

“Charlie. You came. I’m shocked…” Mackenzie said, almost choked up.

“Jesus Christ, are we glad to see you.” Javier was practically cheek to cheek with Charlie. His arms were the tightest in the group hug. “We thought you weren’t going to show up at all. Didn’t you say you were gone all night?”

Charlie finally let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank goodness you guys are alright. When I got Ava’s text, I…” He cut himself off, breaking away from his friends. He glanced around the room, at the hallway they came from, and finally back at his friends. “Where’s Ava?”

The trio didn’t respond. They all sort of shrugged it off.

“Guys… where is she?” Charlie pressed.

Mackenzie huffed reluctantly. “She… she kept going deeper into the house, following everyone else.”

“Are you serious?” Charlie asked, shocked.

“She said she wanted to check out the house,” Ricky jumped in. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think a frat party was her style, but she practically begged us to come because it was going to be here… so here we are.”

“And you just left her there?” Charlie scoffed and grabbed Ricky by the collar. Javier jumped in and wrestled his hand away.

“Hey, man, take it easy. She pretty much tricked us into leaving… did she say she was in trouble?” Javier slowly guided Charlie’s arm down.

Charlie took a deep breath. “I can’t believe this.” He turned to pick up his dropped knife and re-holster it. “Yes. She sent me a text saying she needed my help, and it was urgent. Did anything happen?”

Mackenzie let out a worried sigh. “Well, if we hurry now, we can catch up to them.”

She looked at Javier, who just shrugged and nodded. Ricky, on the other hand, looked unsure.

“Ava led us to the basement. She said it was where they kept all the museum’s hidden artifacts. She said she wanted to take some pictures and told us to just hang tight up here,” Mackenzie added. “I think we came from that way.”

“Well then.” Charlie puffed his chest. “Lead the way.”

Mackenzie took off with Charlie in tow. Javier nudged Ricky and took off after them. Ricky looked back at the front door, still open, and then back at his friends leaving him alone in the room. He stomped his foot, muttering, “Shit,” under his breath before reluctantly running after them.

After some time, the four of them retraced Mackenzie’s route and found themselves at a cellar door that had been broken into.

“Was it locked before?” Charlie asked.

Javier jumped in. “Yeah. Ava convinced several of the jocks to pretty much bulldoze it down. She had them convinced it was like an old cellar or something.”

Charlie scanned the basement vestibule, up and down. A set of hard stone stairs descended into darkness. Above the mouth of the stairwell was a portrait of three women. One was blonde, the other brunette, and the last one a redhead. They were depicted in colonial dress and looked like nobility.

Charlie reached into his backpack and pulled out his flashlight. Better some light than none. The four of them headed down into deeper darkness to find their friend.

It was a slow descent, but they kept going nonetheless.

“So… do you guys think it’s true? The legend?” Ricky asked.

“The Vandercroft legend?” Javier replied.

“No, the legend of Thomas the Tank Engine. Of course I’m talking about the fucking Vandercroft legend. Why else do you think we’re here?” Ricky snapped back.

“Ricky, take it easy,” Charlie said. “A legend is just that. A story. Nothing more.”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you have prayer beads wrapped around your hands and a knife on your belt, or are you just playing dress-up?” Ricky continued.

“Lay off him, Ricky. He’s just… superstitious. Same with me. Same with Javier,” Mackenzie cut in. “There’s nothing wrong with being cautiously afraid.” Charlie couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, but I’m just saying. It’s a terrifying legend.” Ricky calmed, opting to pay attention to where his feet were going on the way down.

“Well, what’s so scary about it? I’ve heard a few bits and pieces, but nothing too bad,” Javier said. He didn’t seem too fazed.

Ricky sighed. “Well, if Ava was here, she could explain it better than I can. She lives for this stuff. But let me try.”

“You remember that painting we saw earlier?”

“Yeah, the one with the three women.”

“Well, those are the Vandercroft sisters. As the legend goes, they were three sisters who mysteriously came to Oakhaven, MA, and through an outside benefactor built this estate here, so far in the woods. Their names were…”

“Marigold, Winona, and Saracen,” Mackenzie chimed in.

“Yes, thank you. Now, the odd thing is they came the year after the witch trials ended, which was…”

“1694,” Charlie calmly added.

“Yeah, what he said. Anyways, they came here the year after the witch trials ended. Some townsfolk thought they were ‘refugees’ escaping the trials and relocating, but they kept to themselves. However, rumors of witchcraft formed quickly… and a lot of young girls from the surrounding town supposedly went missing.”

Ricky took a moment to catch his breath.

“During a town festival, the three witches began to prepare a ritual. No one knows for sure what it was, but they invaded the town and decided to massacre the festival-goers. A local priest that day was brave enough to fight back before the rest of the town could be killed and supposedly banished them with the power of God or something.”

“Yeesh,” Javier recoiled. “Sounds heavy. How does this horror story end?”

“Well, I’m not sure. All I know is that this museum is supposedly the house they lived in. Ava knows the rest.” Ricky paused. “Kind of freaky how into it she is.”

The group continued down as the flashlight now showed the bottom and the open door that led to the next room. As they approached, they could hear voices.

“Catholic boy?” a mocking voice called out from the doorway below. Looking up at them was a six-foot-tall jock in a letterman jacket. “How did you losers even find your way here? This party was closed invite.”

He began to ascend the stairs, and plenty of other jocks followed behind him. They all had either drinks in their hands or some kind of random trinkets and junk.

“Clive. Where’s Ava?” Charlie didn’t sound impressed to see them.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, Virgin Mary?”

“Yeah, I would. Is she down there?”

“Yeah, yeah, your little weird-ass girlfriend is still down there. She told us there was booze hidden in this basement, but the moment we got down there, it was just a room full of junk. I mean, we’re taking a few spoils of war home for wasting our time, but she pretty much snagged some weird candle that was hidden down there. She’s still there acting all weird and shit over it, saying some stuff in ancient Greek or whatever. Sounded like gibberish.” Clive and his gang rudely brushed past everyone on their way up the stairs. “Word of advice, Chuck: find a better girl, because she’s crazy.”

“Oh, shut up, Clive,” Charlie fired back.

Both groups leered at each other until they finally went separate ways.

Entering the basement, Charlie looked around with his friends. The lights were dim, but their flashlights were enough. In the back of the room, behind several pieces of furniture, shelving, and stacks of books, was a shifting figure.

“Ava?” Charlie called out.

The figure perked up and ran out from behind the menagerie of garbage. “Guys! Look what I found.” Ava held out a wooden box; opening it revealed a long, slender black candle.

“Well, as the legend goes, the priest did manage to defeat the witches, and he sealed them away within this very house. Unbeknownst to him, the witches had secretly managed to convert one of the young girls they had taken over the years. Supposedly she made a key in the form of a candle that, once lit, would be able to resurrect the witches so they could return to this earth and finish the carnage they started.”

“Which was?” Javier asked.

“They chose the girl as their heir, and every textual version of the legend states they made one last mass sacrifice of souls before joining their lives into a new body, and she would, in turn, give birth to a new coven of witches.”

Ava took the candle out of the box and held it up for her friends to see.

“Well, apparently, the powers the priest used to keep the witches banished were too great for the young acolyte to break on her own, and the wick of the candle would not light. The young witch began a tradition of raising other young girls as centuries went on to take her place in guarding the key and figuring out how to light it.”

“Well, that’s a fine and dandy story, and that’s a neat prop, but we should be getting out of here,” Ricky said. “I just want to get back to the party.”

“Sure, we can go back after we light the candle.”

The group looked around, shocked at her suggestion.

“What? You want to light it?” Mackenzie asked.

“Please? For a photo. It would make this little basement excursion worthwhile.”

Everyone else looked around with slight unease.

“Eh, sure,” Charlie said for the group.

Ava laughed with glee and hugged Charlie. He blushed a little and smiled alongside her. He thought, Damn, I can’t stay mad at her. One photo wouldn’t hurt. Besides, this could be an excellent photo for Rose later.

Handing the candle to Mackenzie, Ricky and Javier touched part of it, and Ava gave the lighter to Charlie. Taking out a disposable camera from her jacket, Ava readied herself to shoot. “Okay, Charlie. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead and light the candle.”

Charlie stood over the candle.

Igniting the lighter in one hand, he reached out and touched the flame to the wick. In one swift sweep, the candlewick caught fire, and for a moment, everyone held their breath. Charlie pulled his arm back and put out the lighter. At that, Ava snapped a photo.

Charlie felt relief and looked back toward Ava; she looked at him with gratitude and longing. For a moment, everything was calm, and the friends slowly took their hands off the candle one by one.

Suddenly, a gust of wind burst through the basement, kicking up dust and blowing out the candle. Ricky couldn’t help but yelp by instinct. “Yeah, now let’s go upstairs.”

Ava looked at him and rolled her eyes. While Mackenzie, Ricky, and Javier went ahead first, Charlie remained behind with Ava. Placing the candle back into the box, they set it on a shelf.

“Can we go now? My sister is waiting for me,” Charlie said in a light tone. He held out his hand, and Ava took it in hers. “Yes, let’s go,” she smiled back at him.

The trek back up was mostly silent, minus the few quips and jokes Ricky made throughout the ascent. Ava held Charlie’s hand tighter and tighter.

“It’s okay,” Charlie said to her in reassurance. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

Exiting the basement stairs and the antechamber, Javier stopped the group for a moment. “Shh. Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Mackenzie asked.

“Nothing,” Ricky whispered.

They retraced their steps back to the foyer as fast as they could. But upon their approach, they heard no noise, no sound of a party. Only the sounds of light whimpering and crying echoed through the hall. Mackenzie, Javier, and Ricky looked at each other in worry and then back at Charlie. Charlie still held Ava’s hand and led the way, heading back to the foyer quickly but cautiously.

No one was prepared for what they saw next.

The party lights were beaming everywhere, and the music was still playing. But there was no party. No joy, no laughter, and no keg stands where a crowd once stood cheering.

There was a feeling, the kind you got when you walked into a situation where fear and dread held a steady hand on the back of your neck. It was sickening. A metallic stench filled the air, enveloping the group that had just arrived, reminding them this wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare come true.

Something you could make out of a biblical scene of tortured souls, as the party had become a feast in the eyes of the devil, and they were now in his house.

Corpses were everywhere, the remains of what was left of the other students.

Puddles of blood mired the floor and dotted the walls. The mangled masses of men and women were strewn about; some lay cut in two, their entrails decorating the carpet below and the ceiling above. Others hung from the rafters by rope. There were signs of people trying to escape the carnage: some slumped over the railings leading up the stairs, others lying dead at the entrances to hallways. On the main door were deep scratches marking where victims made vain attempts to escape.

In the middle of this carnage stood three women: one blonde, one brunette, and one with red hair. All wore the same black, tattered robes. They had pale faces, black lips, and darkened eyes. The blonde one’s hands were dripping with blood. The brunette carried a large, jagged knife coated in blood with small chunks of torn flesh. The last woman held a person by their throat, forcing them to their knees.

It was Clive.

The woman held a vise grip around his windpipe, and Clive could only whimper and cry. His legs were broken in several places, as if he had been picked up and dropped from the ceiling.

“Why?” Clive sobbed through the pain. “Why would you do this?”

The woman showed no reaction. Clive’s blood dripped down his cheek and onto her hand.

She tightened her grip, pushing her nails into his neck and crushing his throat with a curdling squelch and crunch. Clive gasped his last breath, and the woman rag-dolled his body to the ground in a crumpled mess.

Ricky fell to his knees. Shock took over, stunned and silent. He, like the rest of them, looked on in horror. Mackenzie was on the verge of tears, trembling in fear. Javier remained expressionless, terrified; he started to back up for a quick getaway. And as he tried, something peeled off the ceiling and fell right in front of them with a thud, splashing them with a river of blood. They looked down to see a severed arm, still clutching a beer can.

The three women turned toward the group, and dread washed over Charlie and his friends. The one who killed Clive raised her hand to the young men and women and gestured with her fingers, calling them forward.

An unseen force picked them up and carried them away. They were flung into the middle of the foyer, closer to the women, landing haphazardly into the swamp of remains.

Ricky came to his knees first, eyes wide and jaw agape. He held his hands in front of his face as the blood of his classmates soaked into his pores and clothes.

Without a second thought, he bolted. Fear was his only thought; he didn’t care about anything except getting out alive. He made a mad dash for the door, brushing past the women, who didn’t flinch.

“Ricky!” Charlie called out.

But Ricky didn’t hear him. Instead, he reached the door, trampling over the bodies in front of it.

“Help! Help!” he screamed, terror in his eyes as he frantically clawed and banged on the door. With each hit, his voice screeched louder.

Ricky kept hitting the door over and over until his arm stopped in midair. He began to struggle against an invisible force that held his arm high, and he panicked even more. “What the fuck….”

From behind, the red-haired woman had her hand raised toward him. She pointed a finger and began to wave it up and down. Ricky’s body contorted as his arm snapped back down to his side, and his entire body began rocking back and forth. With a crack, his forehead smashed into the door, and then again, and again.

There wasn’t even time for him to scream. His friends could only watch in horror as his head was bashed into pulp against the wood. Teeth scattered, flecks of flesh tore loose, and his body eventually dropped to the ground to match the others.

Mackenzie released a bone-chilling cry. Hysterical, she scrambled to run. Javier took note and ran as well; he was still silent, eerily quiet like a man gone mute. Charlie didn’t move much as he and Ava clung to each other, still trying to process what was happening.

Charlie looked back at his friends, then whipped toward the robed women, and only the red-haired woman remained in his sight. She stared back at him with emotionless evil.

Charlie frantically looked around for the other two, and then the rushing sound of a large object thrown blew past his ear. A second later came the crunch of a thick blade piercing flesh. Mackenzie was thrust forward into a crumpled heap with a yelp, lying face down. A large, jagged knife stuck out of her back. She was motionless.

The brunette woman suddenly appeared over the body. Reaching down to grab the knife handle, she tore through more flesh and bone, and a spurt of blood erupted from the corpse. Only a grunt came from the butcher as she held her knife up in the light to admire it.

Javier tripped over his own feet in his escape, landing face-first. His glasses fell away from him. He scrambled to pick them back up. At the last moment, he turned onto his back to find the blonde woman standing over him at his feet. Terrified, Javier remained silent and unable to move.

The blonde woman wore an eerie smirk. She stepped closer and kneeled. She placed one hand on his shoulder, and with the other, she caressed his cheek, leaving a trail of blood from her wet hands onto his shirt as she dragged her hand down to his chest.

Her eyes were a dull amber, haunting and terrifying. Javier finally looked away toward Charlie and Ava and broke his silence.

“Charlie,” he said with no hope in his voice. “I don’t want to die.”

The blonde woman drew her hand back from his chest into a mock salute and pierced his right breast with slow force. Javier gasped in pain and choked up blood; the penetrating hand pushed deeper and deeper, patiently slicing through muscle and breaking bone.

When she was deep enough, the blonde woman clenched her fist and, in one swift motion, removed the young man’s beating heart. Letting the body drop, she stood and held it up high; blood raced down her arm and dripped off. She began to squeeze the heart ever so softly, mimicking its last vestiges of life.

When all was said and done, only two remained.

Charlie was beside himself. Fear, dread, anguish, anger, hate, terror; he didn’t know what to feel. All his friends were dead. He didn’t know what to do. Run and be slaughtered? Stay and be killed anyway? Hope began to feel like something reserved for people who didn’t break promises.

The three women turned their eyes on him. None of them moved; they only watched as Charlie fumbled with the rosary still wrapped around his left hand. Shaking, Charlie brought the beads to his lips and recited a silent prayer into them. Tears welled in his eyes as his voice trembled. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

The women watched, then began to walk toward the pair in unison, closer with each step. “Are you ready?” the women spoke in unison, their voices low and sinister. Before Charlie knew it, they were almost upon him. He snapped to his senses, remembering Ava was still with him. He had to choose.

“Ava,” Charlie mustered the strength to speak. “When I say go, I need you to run. I will distract them and…”

Ava suddenly stood without a word, and the three women stopped. Charlie looked back at her, confused. “Ava? Ava, what are you doing?!”

Ava ignored him and called out to the women. “Yes… I am.” There was no fear in her voice, only hope.

Ava raised her arms to the heavens and began to cry. “This offering, this work I have produced has been all for you. I am ready to become one.”

“Rejoice!” the women exclaimed together.

Charlie couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He couldn’t fathom what he was hearing. He thought, Maybe she’s lost her mind. Maybe she’s trying to trick them. Maybe it’s something else. But it didn’t matter. This was Ava. Someone he’d spent an entire semester with, studying and hanging out, eating, drinking, laughing. Staring at her pretty face, holding her hands as he listened to her gush about history and witchcraft and her obsession with witches… and her obsession with the legend…

He thought back to it all. From the first moment he’d gotten her message asking him to come, everything had felt off.

“Saying some stuff in ancient Greek or whatever. Sounded like gibberish.”

“She pretty much snagged some weird candle that was hidden down there the moment we got there.”

“How did you losers even find your way here? This party was closed invite.”

“Ava led us to the basement; she said it was where they kept all the museum’s hidden artifacts.”

“I didn’t think a frat party was her style, but she practically begged us to come because it was going to be here… so here we are.”

“Ava…” Charlie spoke in a defeated tone. “Why? Did you bring us here just for this?”

Ava didn’t answer. There was a beat of silence.

The wind howled outside and shook the shutters. The rumble of storm clouds above heralded a bolt of lightning that struck the roof. The surge ran through the museum’s power, shorting out the plugged-in party lights in a spectacular array of superheated sparks that sprayed everywhere, setting fixtures, paintings, and cloth-like items all around ablaze.

“Charlie,” Ava turned toward him. She smiled softly and spoke with an edge. “Who else do you think would invite a random party at this house? It was easy enough to fool a drunk, degenerate student body into becoming exactly what I needed. Especially those three idiots you called friends. But you, I thought you were going to be the hardest.” Ava placed her hand on Charlie’s cheek and wiped away his tears.

“When you told me you were going to be with your sister for the night, you said you promised to spend the night with her and that you couldn’t break it. That’s why I texted you for help. And when you did show up, I was happy. Because it was you. What I needed was you. After years of reading text after text and learning every bit I could, I came to my hypothesis: if it was the power of a priest who sealed them away, then maybe a priest could undo what was done… or at least someone just as religious could light the candle.”

She pulled Charlie into a kiss, one hand on his chest, the other on his cheek. Charlie was stunned. It took him a few seconds to pull back in disgust and shock.

“Years of reading the stories, the legends, and the myth. Every ounce of it. You believed them too. That’s why you brought those little items for protection. And if little kids get to dream of fairytales, then this is the horror story I had wonderful nightmares of.”

Ava walked toward the witches as the fire spread around the room. Like a living flame, it swallowed everything in sight. It consumed the victims and began to cremate them. The fire glistened through Charlie’s tears as he watched Ava kneel in front of the three women. They began some sort of anointing, marking Ava’s face with blood from their hands while reciting something in unison. The roar of the flames made it all blur into the background.

Then the witches disrobed, their pale bodies bare among the fire. Together they wrapped their arms around Ava in an embrace, and one by one, each began to crumble to dust and fade away, leaving Ava alone.

A new feeling rushed over Charlie. Fear, dread, anger, anguish, and hate were still there. But now it was joined by rage, burning hotter than the fire around him.

With a guttural cry of war and damnation, Charlie ripped the knife from his belt and charged at Ava in a wild frenzy.

“Ava!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, his face shifting from betrayal into something feral.

Ava spun around, held out her hand in a flash, and Charlie instantly froze mid-stride. He tried to fight it, grunting, scowling, straining his muscles, but he couldn’t budge.

Ava approached him and placed her hand on his right wrist, the one that held the knife. Her eyes glowed a dull amber, and her skin looked pale. Blood painted her face and coated her lips.

“I have to go now. I get to be a part of something greater than us. And someday, I’ll get to be a mother. Their mother. Thank you for being a part of this special day.”

She ripped the knife from Charlie’s hand and stabbed him square in the gut several times. He crumpled to the ground, clutching his abdomen against the searing pain. He didn’t have the strength left to cry out. All he could do was hold his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

Ava walked away into the inferno and disappeared.

Charlie reached into his pocket slowly and took out his cellphone. Barely managing to dial, he hit send and weakly lifted the phone to his face. It rang and rang, and eventually, no one answered. A beep sounded from the other line, and Charlie started to speak. He was weak. The fire burned closer and hotter. No life was left in his voice.

“Hey, Rose… I’m sorry. I messed up. I can’t be there to watch you anymore. I won’t be there to watch you grow up. I’m sorry I ruined our night out. I love you.”

Charlie still clutched the rosary in his left hand. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven….”

Outside, in the pouring rain, a young girl was making her way through the rough patch of woods toward the clearing. Disobedient to her brother, she had finally gotten fed up with waiting and decided to find him herself.

Rose stood outside and saw the museum burning. Engulfed in flames, it climbed higher and higher. The tongues of fire that shot through the open windows and cracks licked at her, taunted her. The blaze’s peaks formed sinister shapes, dancing in the wind, a living fire enjoying the meal it had been served earlier.

This was burned into her eyes.

She had left the phone he gave her in the car, and with it, the last words she’d ever hear from her brother. The only thing she heard was the roar of the fire. The sizzle of the rain, the wail of fire sirens approaching in the distance, and the screams of a young man consumed by the hell inside the house.

This was burned into her mind.

In the sinking pit of Rose’s heart, the darkness to chose her.