Shattering screams By James Quinn

                                   

       It was the sounds of screams and sobbing that brought Helen to the grave of her daughter which lay in a pile of red, orange, and brown dead October leafs. The screams gave her headaches and kept her up most of the nights. Sometimes they would come in the forms of dreams that haunt her mind. 

    It would be Lisa’s 5^th birthday party, the one that never happened, and she would be holding her at the end of the day. She would be tucking her into her bed and kissing her goodnight on her forehead. Then she would hug Lisa, and then Lisa would suddenly go limp in Helen’s arms like a doll. Helen would release Lisa from her arms and look at her face. Lisa would lay dead in her arms and her flesh would start to quickly decay right in front of her. Lisa would decay until only a skeleton of her former self lay in the small bed.  Helen would still be holding her. She would scream, then she would wake-up.

That wasn’t the worst of it.

      The nightmares had manifested itself into the form of sounds of crying and ear-shattering screams that only Helen could hear.  At first the screams scarred her and she would stay in the house trying to make it stop. She would try drowning out the sound with music from her ear-buds, but the crying would get louder, and her headache would grow worse. The screaming soon became daggers of sound in Helen’s head that cut its way through the temples and infest the brain with its pointed edge.  Her husband would mostly sleep in the living room, growing irritated of Helen’s constant shifting and mumbling in bed.
“Honey, I don’t mean to sound rude.” He would say “But maybe you should consider seeing someone.”

“Are you trying to say I’m crazy, because I’m not? Why can’t you hear it too?”

“You have to see somebody, a doctor, a psychiatrist, anybody, but first you have to admit that this is a problem.”

      After weeks without sleep, Helen had dark sink holes in her head where her eyes stayed and she gave no attention to her messy hair.  It was definitely clear that there was a problem, but Ms. Symone didn’t want to be sent to an insane asylum, strapped in stray jackets, constantly hearing the screams.

“She wants something Dan. She must want something.”

“What do you mean want something? Are you talking about that magic bull again?”

“Dan please hear me out. I know we have our differences in faith but-

“No, no, no, not this noise again. I’ve told you this, I want nothing to do with this witchcraft none-sense, and you know how I feel about that.”

“Please, I know what this means to you but…”

“For god’s sake Helen, you’re about to have our second child in in 8 months. Take care yourself of yourself huh?”

Daniel got up in a fury from the kitchen table and grabbed his coat.

“When I come back, I’m gonna pack all my things and stay over my friend’s house for a while.”

“DAN!” Helen yelled.

“How do I expect you to take care of a child, when you can’t even take care of yourself? You’re going to make yourself sick, and kill our child. I won’t be part of that. Get yourself some help Helen.”

Dan slammed the door on his way out.

Helen cried and sobbed, along with Lisa in her head.

      Helen Symone stood at Lisa Symons’s grave. Helen still heard the screams she made in her head.

“Please stop.” Helen cried “I’m begging you. I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. Please forgive me, and stop screaming.”

      It didn’t stop. Helen knew what was going to make her stop and that is why she was here. It was after Daniel had left her that she reached to someone for help. A day later Helen was walking toward a white church in her coat. Helen had made an appointment with the Pastor of that church and was nervous as to what he would think. Helen went into the church silently and walked up to the steps up into the sanctuary. It was cold and silent, and she sat down on the cold pews still hearing the screams. Helen massaged her temples and was so concentrated on aiding her headache that she didn’t notice the pastor come in.

“May you be Helen Symone?” The Pastor asked.

Helen looked at the pastor in his long black robe with astonishment.

“Oh! Sorry I didn’t notice you coming in.”

“Well you clearly have a lot on your mind I presume.”

“You don’t know the half of it Pastor.”

“Please call me summers, Bart Summers.” He smiled “How may I be of service to you Ms. Symone?”

“For about two weeks now, I have been hearing the screams and cries of my dead four year old daughter. I’ve tried ignoring it, but it just seems to be getting louder. It’s giving me headaches and I haven’t been going to work because of it. My boyfriend has left me because I can’t move on in life with this…voice in my head.”

“I suppose you didn’t mention this on the phone, because you felt as if I would dismiss this situation as pure lunacy, correct?”

Helen nodded.

“Well don’t fret ma’am, this is a common case for the likes of me. Being that you came to me specifically and not anyone, I’m to assume that this isn’t your first time in dabbling with the magic and supernatural?” 

        Lisa’s screams grew louder in her head, Helen struggled to listen and not show her pain.

“Well I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know where this came from. I started playing with magic when I was a teenager with my friends.  It wasn’t for any real spiritual reasons; we just did it for fun.  One day when the freak show was in town, we stole some items out of the tent of a fortune-teller. We stole a necklace with an amulet attached, the crystal ball, and her spell book.”

“What were you planning to do with those items?”

“We were going to mess around with her stuff. We thought we were little magicians, performing spells and trying to summon up demons to torture our teachers, or use seducing spells on someone we had a crush on.”

“Sounds like some pretty rebellious years.”

“I won’t lie Pastor Summers, we had fun and didn’t have much regrets at the time, even when the fortune-teller found out about her stolen objects. She had confronted us the next year when the freak- show came to Louisville again. She pushed us and demanded her things back. We gave it back to her, but then she started reading Latin phrases out of her book. We ran away from her as if that was going to stop her.”

“She had cursed your little group of friends. Do you know where they are now?”

“I haven’t heard from none of them after high school, and not even a phone call once I got to college. I’m starting to think that they’re all dead, and or miserable like me somewhere. I can just feel my life falling apart.”

“But you’re not dead, be grateful for that.”

“I’d rather be dead right now Pastor Summers. I can’t live with my daughter constantly tormenting me. I fear as if I’ve damned her to hell. Can you help me?”

“While I’ve done this before Ms. Symone, it is a very dangerous task to get your daughter out of hell’s cage. Breaking the spell however will be easy; I can practically break and reverse spells in my sleep.”

      The man in the black robe waved his hand around Helen and like the fortune-teller from years ago, spouts Latin phrases that she couldn’t repeat.

“Now that’s taken care of, I’m sorry if my Latin was a little rusty.”

“Was it that easy?”

“Indeed. The woman who put the spell on you used a common coursing spell that is common amongst those who practice the dark arts. The real trick of this dilemma is getting your daughter out from hell. You’ll have to come with me and it’ll be a very dangerous task. First, I’ll gather my materials.”

      Pastor Summers had dashed off into his office. He had seemed more enthusiastic about the whole affair, in a way that Helen couldn’t understand even having dabbled in magic herself.  Helen didn’t have to do much in the ritual; she just had to be at the grave of her daughter.

She was there at the gravestone that read Lisa Symone- 2005-2009-Loved daughter. Helen was still helplessly begging the gravestone to stop torturing her head with screams.

MOTHER HELP!!! Lisa screamed MOTHER PLEASE!!

Helen knelt down in front of the grave, and bowed her head with tears pouring from her face. She rubbed and massaged her temples with her eyes shut, gushing out massive amounts of tears in the process. Pastor Summers approached behind her in silence.

“I am greatly sorry for your loss Ms. Symone.”

Helen got herself off the ground and wiped the crushed leafs off her knees.

“You shouldn’t have seen me that way.”

“Your pain is greatly understandable Ms. Symone. Death is a very depressing business, no matter what stage it’s in. I’ll tell you something personal Ms. Symone. When I was little, before I got involved in magic and the supernatural, I had no real concept of what being dead would be like. When I thought about it, it scared me Ms. Symone. Most will say that death is the end of all your perceived senses of the world. No more sight, smells, feelings, and tastes. But in my experience Ms. Symone, in the things I’ve seen in my years, what has always kept me from getting depressed was that there was something for the senses to experience after death, whether it is in heaven or hell.”

       Helen didn’t know if that was supposed to make her feel better, but Pastor Summers conducted in his business. Pastor Summers painted a pentagon on the grave site in front of the gravestone in white paint. On each point of the pentagon, are lighted wax candles, and in the inner-circle that was painted around the pentagon, were symbols that Pastor Summers copied from his small brown book. Once he was done, Pastor Summers stood in the middle of the circle. He threw out his hand, inviting Helen into the circle. Helen went in and they both held each other’s arms.

“I’m going to say the magic words, and we’ll be in the flames of hell. You won’t feel anything, but whatever you do, do not lose sight of me. Follow me wherever I go, I’ve been here before.”

“What is hell like?”

“It’s different each time I go in.”

Helen nodded.  Pastor Summers said the Latin phrases, and then darkness.

      It was all darkness to start with. Pastor Summers was nowhere in sight. Helen was just floating in a black void. Then Helen heard a faint sound from a very far away flying object. As it got larger in her sight, she could slowly hear its terrifying sound. The sound became more overwhelming, and Helen was almost hit by the quick flash of red, orange, and fire.

Another one flew past her with the same screeching noise that almost split Helen’s ears. Several of them were beginning to fly all around her, screeching and crying. They were all phoenix birds with their tails on fire, but they all had the heads of her daughter Lisa. 

     “MOMMY, MOMMY!!” The birds all screamed circling around her. Helen felt as if her head would explode. Helen felt dizzy as if she was being spun around and around, then suddenly she was on a pile of fallen leafs again, the same leafs that were at the grave. Helen looked around and saw that the sky was still pitch black. The ground was completely covered with leafs. Also above her in the black sky, were the fire birds with Lisa’s head. An entire flock of them were flying down in full speed toward her.

Helen ran up the hill of October leafs, and saw a giant bird cage on the very top of it. Helen ran as fast as she could, but the fire bird was aiming for her like a speeding bullet. The Lisa’s head breathed fire and possessed sharp teeth. Helen was almost hit by one of them if it weren’t for Pastor Summers shooting an arrow at the creature. It was with great precision and hit right at the heart of the beast.

“GET TO THE CAGE HELEN!!” Pastor Summers screamed.

Helen ran as fast she could, and yet the cage atop the hill felt as if it were miles away. Pastor Summers continued to shoot arrows at the fire-birds.

    Eventually Helen made it to the cage that possessed 4 year old Lisa tied and bound in rope. Just as she was about to simply open the cage and un-tie Lisa, and the fire birds surrounded her and produced their large screeches and screams. They made Helen’s ears bleed and she couldn’t hear anymore. Helen collapsed and gave up, she thought she was dead. 

Helen was suddenly roughly grabbed on her arm and lifted up briskly. It was Pastor Summers; behind him all the fire birds had arrows inserted in their chests. Pastor Summers was screaming something at Helen as she was getting up, she couldn’t hear him, but she knew what to do.

Helen opened the cage, and un-tied her crying little girl. As soon she saw her mother, Lisa stopped crying and ran into Helen’s arms. Then there was darkness again.

        Helen woke-up on the gravesite of Lisa, still with the pentagon painted on the ground and candles on the points, they were no longer lit. It was night outside, and Pastor Summers was nowhere to be seen. But none of that was the first thing she noticed. Helen noticed the sounds of the ruffling leaf as she lifted herself up from the ground. She noticed the sound of cars as they were vrooming by the graveyard. She noticed the sound of her breathing, and the sound of her heart beating, and the sound of ambulances, and the sound of footsteps walking on the sidewalks, and no longer did she hear Lisa crying. 

The only crying she heard was the crying of her newborn daughter 8 months later. Helen had been through the motions of birth before, and even through the pain it made her feel at peace. As Helen was holding her new daughter, she noticed that the baby looked very similar to Lisa when she was a baby.