Do you ever feel that inexplicable feeling that you aren’t safe? That primal sense of macabre that tells you to walk just a little bit faster, to turn on every light switch as you walk through the hallway? 232Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv2IHL9Fd3X
That was what I felt, standing in front of my late grandmother’s house. Thunder rumbled overhead as raindrops drummed against my black umbrella, rolling off its sleek surface as soon as they landed. On either side of me stood my parents, each sizing up the house. My mother placed a hand on my shoulder, attempting to comfort me.
Trying to comfort me was futile. I had never, ever, not once in my life, bat an eye at death. The death of my grandmother, known locally as the town’s resident Crazy Lady, was no different. 232Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnfHO20ogOr
I stood in front of the now-empty home, feeling not even a smidge of grief. 232Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDDIxUqhtGT
Of course, I had loved my grandmother. More than anything. Yet I barely even reacted to her absence, and it made me feel like a terrible person.
“She’s left the entire house to us.” My mother’s hand squeezed my shoulder as she spoke. “Why don’t you go inside and pick something to remember her by?” She gently pushed me towards the house. I stumbled slightly before making my way to the front door. Out of habit, my hand reached up towards the gargoyle-shaped door knocker, but I stopped myself before my fingers, which were almost completely covered by the sleeves of my oversized brown blazer, made contact with the smooth brass. I instead reached for the doorknob, twisting it with a jerk of my wrist.
The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit living room. I squinted, still only barely making out the contours of the plush, overstuffed couch I used to watch TV on with my grandmother. Of course, the lights wouldn’t turn on, seeing as my grandmother relied on her photokinesis over paying the light bill.
I confidently walked through the dark and winding hallways, as I knew exactly what I’d want to have as a keepsake. The nightlight grandma always used to read me a bedtime story. No matter how old I got, she always insisted on reading me one. I had always taken them for granted, not even realising during the very last bedtime story that I’d never hear one again. 232Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBBGvPU5jpC
For some reason, that bothered me.
I turned the corner, already reaching for the handle on the bedroom door, before suddenly I stumbled forward. My foot had caught on something. Upon closer inspection, it seemed like a trapdoor. 232Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZGrwTOivOD
With a bit of physical exertion, I managed to pry the trapdoor open, watching as it teetered over and fell on the other side of the floor with a dull thud and a squeak of the hinge. Underneath the trapdoor was a staircase steep enough to be considered a ladder. Coughing from the dust, I climbed down it, descending into a pitch-black abyss.
I fumbled around in the dark, not bothering to look for a light switch. I knew that if grandma were still here, she could’ve used her Photokinesis to light up the room. With such a harmless power, it was a wonder how I got left out and bullied in school for descending from a ‘witch.’ There were people in my maths class with powers ten times as sinister as my grandmother’s. As much as it came in handy in everyday life, my telekinesis was useless in this situation.
Eventually, my fingers brushed against something firm, covered in a harsh type of cloth. It felt like a manuscript. Curious, I took the manuscript back up through the trapdoor. Compared to the underground mystery room, the ground floor was much brighter. Stitched across the front cover were the words “Desire’s Eden’ in gold. I opened it, and my eyes widened at what I saw. Every single word seemed to be written in blood.
I ran my fingers down each page as I read, my eyes scanning the words with growing intrigue. The texts inside promised me power, immense power, and whatever knowledge I desired. The manuscript claimed I could wish for anything, anything at all, and it would come true by sundown. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“If that were true...” I murmured underneath my breath. “I’d wish for Elodie to die by immolation.”
Elodie had made my life a living hell from the moment we’d met. If I could wish for anything, I’d use it to make Elodie’s life a literal burning hell.
I sat in silence for a few seconds, waiting for the letters to glow red or something, but nothing happened.
I stood up and stuffed the book in my messenger bag, before finally getting the lamp I’d wanted the whole time.
“What took you so long, Marionne?” My father furrowed his eyebrows in concern as I came outside. “You were in there for a while.”
“I was just saying goodbye to the house.” I shrugged. “To grandma.” I felt bad for lying, especially considering how I’d been sitting there, trying to curse my classmate to death.
By the time the three of us arrived back in our neighbourhood, the sun had set. The moment the stars began to shine, we heard blood-curling screams, followed by equally horrified shrieks.
My father snapped his head around, trying to find the source of the screaming. Then, it appeared as if a ball of fire came running in our direction from around Elodie’s semi-detached house.
“Holy shit.” My eyes gleamed with wonder as I watched Elodie burn to death. “It came true. My wish came true.” I thought to myself. Within moments, Elodie had suffocated due to smoke inhalation, and was burned to a crisp all over her body.
Everything around me became a blur. I thought I saw an ambulance show up at one point. All that mattered in that moment was that I had just found a magic wish-granting book. I could do whatever I damn well pleased.
I was basically God.
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