Rise of the Warlock

Then there was Elsie and Sam; twins and girls ran in my mother's family. They were both dark haired with blue eyes at five eight and a buck ten. Lithe builds and long legs defined them, and they were also super close. They talked in their own language, tended to dress the same, and loved to mess with people by confusing them into thinking they were one or the other.

"Elsie, Sam," I said, glancing from one to the other as we hugged. I always knew who was who. It was something that annoyed them to no end.

"Grinch," they said in unison, their nickname for me since Jim Carrey played the role some years back. I gave them a smile. It was expected.

"How are you, Bart?" Aunt Maureen asked.

I turned to her responding, "I'm fine. I knew he was sick and despite him trying to hide the pain, I'm happy knowing he's at peace and remembering the good times." I was sincerely hoping that would keep her from worrying and bugging me all the time.

"Ah that's so nice. You're so strong," came the sympathetic voice of my cousin Sandra. She and my cousin Bethany were also twins, but unlike my younger sisters, they weren't identical. Sandra was strawberry blonde, buxom, and I imagine the typical beautiful blonde people think of. However, she was far smarter than most gave her credit, and to this day I have yet to beat her in a game of chess. Bethany was raven haired and got her looks from her father's side: five nine, pale skin, and blue eyed. Unlike her sister, she was shy and preferred to stick to the back of situations almost as if she believed that as long as she didn't say anything people would forget she was there.

After accepting my hug from Sandra, I turned as Beth gave me a hug as well before giving me a shy smile and stepping back.

"Well, my family's here, so I guess you'll be taking off Mrs. Jean," I mentioned, turning to the older woman.

"Oh, no, it's almost time for the wake so I might as well stay." she replied with a smile, before turning and proceeding to talk with the others. Seeing a chance at escape I turned and sneaked away. Before long I was back outside staring up at the clear sky.

"Should be raining, huh?" Beth said behind me. "Like in all the movies with a sad scene of tears while music plays a quiet dirge in the background."

"It isn't a movie and death is nothing to be sad over," I replied before turning to her.

"Hm, figured you would say something like that. You were never one to cry or be over emotional," she stated matter of fact.

"Never saw the point of crying over the things you can't change. Death is death. The flesh breaks down, the will weakens, and we no longer wish to stay. It's better this way," I responded before turning to her, "Tell them I went for a walk".

I passed through the trees along several animal paths in the forest. My family owned almost seventy acres of land. Upon it was the house, and a large stream or small river cut through heading for Apple lake a little way to the south. A cemetery where almost ten generations of Schultz were buried or at least had a headstone sat to the south west of the property. My mother and grandmother were there and the hole was dug for my grandfather.

The Wake

People had started pouring in around three. That was the problem with small towns, everyone knows everyone meaning there are no small affairs. Everyone is family, which can be a blessing or it can be hell. I personally leaned toward the latter. Everyone from town had to be here, the old house was huge. A real redneck mansion, and by that, I mean it may have been owned by poor folks but they were good with their hands as each generation added space and when needed fixing, what had to be fixed was. Still, the house was packed. I watched as the county sheriff walked past a sixteen-year-old with a drink in hand. Any other time he would have tossed him in lock up for the night, but at a wake it was tradition. Still, there was Mrs. Jean in the kitchen passing out drinks and 'keeping an eye on her children' as she would say.

I lifted the Jameson to my lips taking a small drink. As my grandfather's heir so to speak, I had been forced to toast with a dozen people, from those who grew up with him to those who just met him in passing, as they gave condolences and shared memories. Walking through the house I entered the living room where my grandfather was in his coffin. People who walked through paid their last respects before moving on. I looked at the people coming through. Most of the faces I recognized, either family or neighbors. Then there were the vets who passed through, men who would act as honor guard when he is placed in the ground. My grandfather was dressed in full regalia, his medals pinned to his chest, his beret upon his head.

Then there was the man I looked for but did not see. I knew my sisters looked for him too, just as we did at my mother's funeral: my father, who decided that after ten years of fatherhood his obligation was up and took off. I wonder why my sisters looked for him. Me personally, it was to bury a second man beside my grandfather.

'Now, who is that' I wondered. She was in her forties, south American by her look. Her long black hair hung behind her. She was dressed well but walked like the vets: smooth and obviously a trained killer. She had hard brown eyes and a cold look to her face. She placed one hand upon the coffin and lifted a cross to her lips and whispered a prayer.

My curiosity was growing so I began to move closer when suddenly someone was in my way.

"Your grandfather was a hell of man. He saved my ass in Vietnam. My chopper went down and I said to myself, George, that's me by the way, George. Today's the day. With a broken leg, all I had was my forty-five. I was considering eating one of the slugs when out steps your granddad. He picked me and carried me for two days back to camp. Hell of a man," George finished taking a breath and slapping me on the back.

"Here, a drink to your granddad and the green beret," he said, pushing a drink into my hand. Together we took our shots when he loudly started to sing.

"Fighting soldiers from the sky the brave men the green beret!" as he began a rendition of the ballad of the green beret I attempted to flee, only to be wrangled back in to sing with him and several others.

When I finally managed to get away, the woman was gone and I was again sequestered into a drink or conversation. It was as if everyone conspired to keep a hold of me and not let me go off by myself. The night wore on and judging by the number of people who were passed out or disappeared while their car sat in the driveway, I was sure I had every bedroom filled. Mrs. Jean and some other volunteers must have come and put the children to bed as I couldn't remember seeing any since ten. I headed up the stairs for my room, but opening the door I found it already occupied by Daphne. A small growl uttered from my throat as I turned to find other accommodations.

"Lil brother, I borrowed your bed, I hope you don't mind. Aunt Jean gave the room I was to sleep in away to some of the kids," she groggily said her eyes still closed.

"No worries, I will find something," I replied leaving.

"Wait, as fun as it would be to watch you wander around your own house looking for a bed, why don't you come lie with me like we used to when we were kids?" she asked. It could have been the drink or it could have been just being tired and knowing there was probably no bed available, but I took her up on the offer.

I felt her snuggle into my back and quietly hoped to wake up before her. I felt her large breasts on my back separated only by a thin cotton shirt and breathed in her smell. I fell asleep soon after.

A funeral and a Semi Unwelcome Intrusion.

Daphne McWilliams

Daphne laid awake, her mind in turmoil over the thoughts that whirled there. It hadn't taken long for her brother to fall asleep nor for him to turn and wrap her in his arms. She was sure if she moved or simply whispered his name he would wake up, move, and apologize. But she didn't want him to move. The feeling of warmth and comfort that came from being in his arms was simply too good to lose. She knew despite how unemotional or detached her brother seemed, at times he did care.

Her eyes scanned what could be seen from the side of the bed she was on. Moonlight spilled in from the window behind her. His dresser, which doubled as a desk from the look of things, seemed cluttered with the many odd things that lay upon it. But upon closer inspection, she saw everything was grouped together and separated. By what system she did not know, but there was one that she was sure of. She glanced at her wrist, a silver bracelet upon it, small silver blocks were stringed by a silver chain. Each block had a small symbol etched into it. A small red crystal cut in the shape of a sun was also attached. It was a gift from her brother. A gift that set her mind on a path to the past.

One year ago

"It's fine, alright? I was just clumsy, that's all no worries, lil bro," Daphne said to her brother, a small sad smile placed on her lips. Tears threatened to spill but she did her best to keep her face still, showing only what she wanted to be seen. It was something she had gotten good at in the past year. Daphne had fallen for her first boyfriend. He was the running back for her team. He was confident and handsome and so nice to her. Until he blew out his knee. All his hopes and dreams had been dependent upon a football career but that was no longer possible.

It didn't start right away, but slowly small arguments and drunken triads were followed by him apologizing over and over. The first time he hit her she left but a month later she was back after he promised he'd stop drinking. He didn't, and before long she was sure it was her fault each time he laid hands on her, each time he got drunk and forced her into bed.

Her brother's eyes watched her, his face impassive before he nodded, "Alright, you should be careful you're too beautiful to be bruised." That holiday passed and a week later her phone rang. Her brother was outside the apartment she shared with her boyfriend.

"Hey sis, I fucked up. I was messing around and didn't realize granddad's new truck was out back. I put a slug in the side fender. I uh, need a place to lie low while he cools off. I really don't want to become fertilizer, so um, can I stay with you for the weekend?" he asked, his voice worried. Daphne didn't know what to do. It was Friday, her boyfriend was late as it was, and she knew where he was.

"Um, I'm no," she started.

"Ah, c'mon, please? Please, pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?" he pleaded. Daphne couldn't help herself. It was like they were kids again, and whenever he wanted something he'd follow her around begging like a puppy for a treat. It was so cute.

"Ok, but only the weekend," she said giving in and pressing the buzzer to open the door.

"Awesome, see you soon, Daph," he exclaimed.

Daphne was having the kind of day she hadn't had in years. She and her brother were watching movies and just talking. It was something she hadn't done in years. It was as if that wall he constantly walked around with had been broken down and he was just a kid again.

Wham wham! "Damnit Daph, open the fucking door. I can't get my key in the lock," hollered Tod, her boyfriend. Her eyes snapped to the door. She knew that tone, and she began to shiver. Then she heard the soft words spoken.

"I knew it. Don't worry, I'll take care of it," Bart whispered to her, a brush of his hand across her face and then he was up. It was then that realization hit her that he never took off his boots. He had laughed with her but he had always watched the room. He noted every alcohol stain on the couch, every scuff mark a drunk made when they couldn't stay steady.

"Bart, stop, he..." she petered out as panic hit her as the door opened.

"What the fuck you doing in my house, fag?" Tod got out before Bart moved and dragged him by his head forward, before twisting and shoving him into a wall. Tod scrambled forward into a hard backhand. Bart had an odd smile on his face.

"What bitch, that hurt, hm?" Bart asked before another backhand cracked across Tod's face. "Speak bitch, or are you too much of a dumb fucking whore?" Bart gripped him around the throat pushing him again into the wall.

"You have a fucking hearing problem don't cha, bitch? Oh well, I enjoy smacking around weak little piss ants who think hitting someone smaller makes them more a man. Fucking pathetic," Bart lectured, driving a knee into Tod's groin. The sound off Tod's breath whooshing from his lungs was heard. He fell back against the wall trying to breathe. Bart glanced at Daphne for a moment, his face slightly softening before turning hard again.

"Ha ha. Man, you really fucked up," he laughed as he proceeded to punch him repeatedly until his face began to resemble hamburger.

"Stop! Dammit, Bart! Just stop, please!" Tears streamed down Daphne's face. He turned toward her, his head cocked to the side like a beast surveying prey, before he turned back toward Tod Daphne was terrified that he wouldn't stop until he killed him. Tears still streaming, she went to grab her cell to call the police. It wasn't until after that she would wonder why with all the noise the neighbors hadn't called the police as they had once before when she was being smacked around.

"Now Tod, Tod, I didn't kill ya, did I? Oh nope, I see a bit of focus in those eyes. You, my friend, have a choice. You will leave and never come back, consider your shit a loss or call a moving service, but you will never come back, okay? Good. If you ever speak to her again you will be nice and civil or I'll find you and cut out your tongue, and lastly, you can either get up and get the hell out or I can help you," Bart coldly said while making a show of looking at a nearby window.

Present

Daphne's mind returned to the present as she remembered screaming at her brother and calling him every name she could think of to deny that she had ever been a victim. That Christmas had been awkward between them. She was still dealing with her mixed emotions as well as the fear of seeing her brother practically kill a man for her. There was also the fact that Bart, while never avoiding or ignoring her, fell back to his courteous but detached manner. But that Christmas morning she and her sisters, cousins, and Aunt all had a bracelet, each different to fit their individual tastes.

Bart never did apologize for what he did and truthfully that made her happy. She, however, had been dying to apologize for what she said to him but hadn't found a way. Her eyes closed as she snuggled deeper into his arms, a small smile playing across her lips an idea forming in her mind.