You’ll Be Sorry #2
Already William is grabbing my hand and leading me in, where the surprises keep coming. This is no Lemon Squeeze. Not only can I easily slip through the opening, but within a matter of feet, I’m standing in a soaring cavern, the size of which…I turn in place, first in one direction, then another.
“Holy shit.” I can’t help myself.
William giggles, while Henry smirks. The older girl—Violet?—gazes at me in reproach.
Never in my wildest dreams did a cave of this magnitude exist right in my own backyard. No wonder the kids had been thrilled with their discovery. A pirate’s lair to be sure.
The dogs have entered as well. There’s more than enough room for them to roam about, sniffing at various tumbled stones, inspecting for anything canine worthy.
The Dixons have rigged lighting of sorts: lanterns spaced at strategic intervals, which bathe the mica-flecked granite in glittering splendor.
I can see what appear to be additional offshoots, though upon closer inspection most of these openings quickly peter out.
But this massive cavern has got to be one of the town’s best kept secrets.
“This is the living room,” Violet informs me, pointing to an area that has been outlined with smaller stones—and upon closer inspection, cleanly swept.
“We have snacks.” The younger girl eyes me politely. She points to a broader boulder where I make out a collection of juice boxes and granola bars. The dogs are already sitting in attendance.
I follow her over, still trying to take in everything at once. The air is cool and fresh, implying some kind of circulation. The floor must be another stone slab, yet it feels conspicuously soft in places—where it’s less rock, more earth?
The younger girl, Josie, hands me a container of apple juice. I accept just as my gaze falls upon a large, flat stone positioned in front of a rear alcove. It gleams black and glossy, both enticingly beautiful and terribly ominous.
Just like that, I can hear the screaming.
High, thin wails. One female. No, another, then another. Men in robes, torches in hand.
I brace my hand against the wall to steady myself, and the shrieking intensifies. Hastily, I snatch my fingers back.
The oldest boy, Henry, is frowning at me. “You’re not hexing us, are you?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. The images…no, the feeling of wrong, of unnatural acts and absolute awfulness is still coursing through my veins.
I know this place. I can feel it in my bones.
But I’d swear I’ve never been here. So I must’ve read about it?
But the problem with reading as extensively as I do is that the various books get mixed up in my mind.
That exact title, author, story. I know I know it, but at the moment, my brain struggles to pull it up.
Now I cross the cave as if in a daze. Flatten my hand against the wall on the opposite side. Shudder once more at the immediate flashes of pain and fear.
“You shouldn’t…” My throat is too dry. I have to take a sip of apple juice, wincing at the sweetness. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Told you!” Henry’s voice is triumphant. He whirls on his younger brother. “You shouldn’t have invited her. Witch or not, she’s still an adult.”
William appears offended on my behalf.
“She is not! I mean, not like other grown-ups. And her dog likes our dog!”
Both dogs appear worried now. Lovey whines anxiously, their dog named Dog picking up the cue.
“I just…” I don’t know how to explain what I don’t even understand. “I don’t think this was a pirate’s lair.”
“Well duh!” Henry’s tone implies I’ve proved his point—adults are stupid.
“It’s something worse.”
Now Violet sidles closer, expression concerned. “What do you mean?”
“I know this cave from somewhere. I don’t think you four are the first to discover it. And whoever found it in the beginning, they didn’t use it for good things.” My gaze falls on the slab of onyx again.
“Doesn’t matter,” Henry scoffs. “It’s our place now.”
He’s all swaggering bravado, this young boy who still sleeps with a nightlight. His siblings appear less convinced. But I have nothing more to offer.
My head is starting to hurt. These huge, pressing boulders don’t offer solace. They’re bathed in shame and rage and terror. This place is not a shelter; it’s where hope goes to die.
I work to pull myself together. Lovey is now pressed against my legs, her nose nuzzling my hand. I try to think of something suitably intelligent or convincing. What I come up with is:
“Take it from a witch, there’s dark magic here.”
Henry’s eyes open slightly, though he quickly catches himself. “You’re not a witch. Even William knows that.”
William’s gaze is reproachful. He does know better, and I should, too.
I don’t know what else to say. “I have to go. Thank you…thank you for the apple juice.”
Then I turn and quickly make my way back to daylight, Lovey close to my side.
Vaguely, I’m aware of their dog following me out. William as well. Maybe he waves behind me. Memory is such an imperfect thing.
I don’t think I turn back. I think I mostly retreat to my cabin, where I bolt the door against whatever madness is out there, and take two hits of my father’s favorite whiskey just to steady my nerves.
And then…
I do nothing.
Because there’s nothing to do?
Or because all these years later, that’s all I know how to do?
I failed you. I know that now. First the journal, then the cave…I should’ve stayed a shut-in, kept myself to myself. I should’ve known better.
But sometimes, the anger and pettiness get too much for me.
And other days, the good memories can be as painful as the bad.
You think I’m coming for you; the truth is, you’re coming for me. And when that moment arrives, when you want back everything I took from you, I will stand before you and let the hammer fall.
Epigenetics. No escaping it anymore. The die was cast hundreds of years ago, long before either of us were born. And yet, here we are.
Ding dong bell, the witch is in the well.
Red witch, blue witch, black or white; One for love, one for fright; One will dance all night long; One will see you dead and gone.
Ding dong bell, the witch is in the well
Night’s a-coming; She draws near; Wind’s a-howling
Which one’s here?