Ghost of O'Leary House

Chapter Seventeen

David finished his breakfast without another word, choosing to ignore Grandma’s pleas about completing some ritual. As far as he was concerned, the book could go to Hell; he wasn’t about to kowtow to a glorified spiral notebook! After consuming a ridiculous number of pancakes, David announced he was going to go into the garden and make sure that no more of the Witch-Hazel had grown in. Grandma, who’d gone silent after his refusal to “finish the ritual” gave him a soft smile and thanked him.

Stepping out into the warm mid-morning sun, David stretched and looked around the garden. Flowers were blooming in a full spectrum of colors, some wide and inviting while others appeared more bell-shaped and daunting. Some looked downright dreadful, like the mushrooms that had spots of blood seeping out of them! Ignoring them all, he walked around the garden in search of any Witch-Hazel shrubs or roots, knowing that he probably hadn’t caught his friends in time to prevent them from planting one or two.

Sure enough, he found a small shrub amidst a flowering group of bushes, the dark leaves standing stark against the pale blue and vibrant pink flowers coming from the surrounding plants. Reaching out to grab the shrub, David yanked it out of the loose earth before feeling a sudden rush of warmth in his hand. Before he could react, the warmth became akin to fire, forcing him to drop the plant at his feet as he looked down at his steaming hand, tears welling in his eyes.

“I was afraid this would happen,” Grandma said from the doorway, snapping his attention to her. She stood there with a bottle of lotion and some bandages, all tucked away in a small wicker basket. “Put on some gloves and toss that in the trash bin, then do a once over for the rest of the garden. Afterwards I’ll fix your hands right up.”

David scowled at his Grandmother’s retreating back, shaking his hand furiously as red welts began to form where his fingers had touched the stalk of the plant. Walking over to grab the rubber gloves hanging from the back door, he slid them on, wincing as the slid against his sensitive skin, and grabbed the offensive plant before tossing it in the garbage. He found three more root balls that seemed to scream “Witch-Hazel” at him. He didn’t know why, or how, he knew, but he merely went on instinct and scooped up the plants and threw them away, before washing off the gloves with a hose, removing them and walking inside the kitchen. When he found Grandma sitting at the table with some of her green tonic and a brush, along with a plate of what looked like olive oil and herbs he heaved a sigh.

“Sit down, David, so I can treat your hand,” Grandma instructed, pointing to a chair across from her. “Did you get any more of it on you?”

“No, just where I grabbed it.” David replied, wincing as he laid his arm out on the table. His arm from his elbow down looked as if he’d shoved it into an ant hill, swollen and red with tiny white splotches.

Grandma carefully took the brush and dipped it into the oil before spreading it over the affected area. They sat in silence as she oiled up his arm, with brief moments of conversation when she asked him to lift his arm so she could reach the other side of it. Only after his arm was glistening with oil did it stop throbbing in pain seem to deflate a little, the slick glean of the oil fading as his skin seemed to drink the substance in. Next, Grandma washed the end of her brush, began to apply the lotion to his hand and arm, before wrapping it all in gauze like one would if they were preserving a mummy. In the end, David was left with his left arm entirely wrapped, his hand now three-fingered due to Grandma peculiar first aid strategies.

She stood up and brought the dirty bowls over to the sink where she began to wash them out, leaving David to sit at the table and think. Looking around wearily, he saw Oliver pacing around the floor, looking up at him expectantly.

“What do you want Oliver?” David asked hotly, the desire to kick the cat growing by the second.

The cat stopped and stared at him with golden eyes before turning and stalking off around the corner and into the living room. David snorted before looking over at his Grandma, who had watched the entire affair with her own eyes.

“What?” David asked, looking at her as if she were about to make yet another terrible statement.

“Nothing,” she said, turning back to the plates. “I guess it’s too soon for that to be kicking in after all.”

“For what to be kicking in?” David asked, growing annoyed.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said with a sing-song voice, turning to give David a broad smile. “You might not even get that after all!”

“Grandma, you’re freaking me out, you know that?” David dead panned.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll have the next few days to freak out plenty,” she said knowingly.

Before David could respond the telephone cut their conversation short, causing Grandma to quickly wash her hands before moving over to the cordless receiver, plucking it off the wall stand.

“Hello? Oh my, hello Jane!” Grandma said, greeting David’s mother. “How are you? Jane? Jane, you must slow down dear, you aren’t making any sense.”

David sat at the table and watched as his smiling Grandma listened to what was clearly a very distraught woman on the other end of the line. She took a pen and began jotting down notes on the notepad hanging by the phone. She was silent, listening to David’s mother, interrupting occasionally, with a short question. After five minutes, Grandma nodded and said goodbye, before hanging up the phone. Turning, she looked at David with a solemn stare.

“It’s started.” She said ominously. “The ritual is beginning to run its course.”

“What? What do you mean, was that Mom?” David asked, looking at his Grandmother as if she were mad.

“Yes, she called from the hospital. She said that she nearly ran over an old woman crossing the street and turned into traffic to avoid her. Both of her legs are broken, so you’ll be staying a while with me while she rests up.” Grandma said with a low tone. “The old woman she described was tall and stately, with her grey hair pulled back into a bun. She couldn’t be found after the accident.”

“So?” David asked, confused.

“So, the book is reaching out to gather your blood from where it can; your mother, your father… they’ll both start having accidents that involve that old woman.”

“You mean the woman upstairs?” David asked, suddenly interested.

“Yes,” Grandma said with a sigh. “The woman upstairs… I’d hoped you would put her out of your mind and just dreamt you’d seen her. But now that you’ve written in the book and started things it’s too late.”