Pisachas

Chapter Two

Gilia had been right about getting no sleep. In fact after her little “twilight zone episode”, she liked to call it, Gilia was wide eyed and officially freaked out. Her first instinct was to call the police, but after picking up the phone and just staring at the number pad, Gilia knew the emergency operator would not have taken her seriously. They’d most likely send a police car out to take her straight to the nearest asylum.

Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since the incident and calling her dad was out of the question as well. He would take her no more seriously than the police would. Frank Drahves was level headed and reliable, but when it came to supernatural and weird unexplainable stuff, her father was as conservative as they come. They lived in Alabama after all. Most older generations won’t be as open minded as others.

Sibell was an exception to this, though. Somewhere along the way, Gilia figured God said, “Let this one be eccentric! Give the neighbors something to gossip about.” Or it could have been Sibell’s upbringing…motherless like her own. She didn’t really know.

All she did know was that someone or something had attacked her during the night and only one person was going to believe her. But Gilia feared if she ran to her grandmother’s, Sibell would start pulling out voodoo dolls, war paint and have séances next or sacrifice innocent animals to protect her. And Gilia couldn’t handle that right now. She needed to think through what exactly had happened and how much of it was real.

It could have just been a horrible nightmare brought on by her grandmother’s crazy behavior the day before. Gilia wished that were true, but as she gazed at her own reflection in her ugly rose pink bathroom, pushing the long maroon tresses of hair back from her shoulders, there were deep purple marks the size of fingers along both sides. When Gilia touched them, a sharp pain radiated down her arm and then the skin burned for a few minutes. They were not like any other bruises she’d ever had. There were those common times when one slips and falls down or hits a coffee table with a shin and a bruise forms, slightly sore to the touch. But this was different…as if the man’s hands had been fire themselves.

What in God’s name was he? Gilia shivered at the remembrance of the being lying on top of her. She could feel every inch of him with her body, even parts she didn’t want to acknowledge. But she hadn’t even needed to see the guy to sense his power and strength. Maybe it really was Satan after her. Gilia gulped and tried to bottle her fear up tight. Going all hysterical wasn’t going to help anyone, especially her.

Despite the fact it was Saturday and almost six in the morning, Gilia decided to go ahead and dress for the day. Normally she’d just throw something on from her closet, but today—since there was an invisible man running around her room—she grabbed some jeans and a turquoise blouse stopping back at the bathroom to change there on her way down to the kitchen.

She wasn’t big on coffee, but under the circumstances Gilia decided to have a cup. She sat at the oak table, which still had the indentions of words from many nights of homework, nestled against the bay windows facing the backyard. Brown, dried leaves were beginning to scatter across the grass as fall matured. It had been Frank’s job to mow the lawn this past weekend for the last time until after winter. As if Alabama had winters anymore, she snorted; more like a light breeze that came and went all in the same week. If she were lucky, Gilia would get to wear a coat by January. There was just something about cold weather that was so thrilling to her. Maybe the chance to snuggle under warm blankets with hot coco or the winds cool caresses against her skin, she didn’t know. Something about the season appealed to Gilia, always had.

Abruptly the phone rang, making Gilia sling some steamy coffee onto the table. The mug began shaking again in her hands. Jeez, she really needed to get a hold of herself. Setting it down, she snatched the white cordless off the counter, “Hello?”

It was Sibell, “Gil? Are you alright this morning?”

“I’m fine Gran.”

She didn’t believe her, of course. “I had a horrible feeling about you last night. Are you sure you’re okay? Did…did anyone come around?”

Gilia stood there a moment contemplating lying to her grandmother, something she rarely did at all to anyone. It would probably be best if she just told her the truth. Sibell was very intuitive and would figure it out soon enough. “Yes, Gran. I had a visitor last night.”

“Oh my goodness! I knew it! I should have come right over. Did he hurt you?”

She glanced at her arms, even though she couldn’t see the marks under her blouse. They still ached and burned every time Gilia moved. They seemed to be getting worse, not better. “He didn’t,” she lied. Maybe her grandmother didn’t need to know everything.

“Well, what did he want?” Her. Sibell was concerned for her granddaughter, but Gilia didn’t miss the utter fascination in her voice from predicting this late night visitor. She pictured the old woman dialing up Peg Carson as soon as their conversation ended just to gloat about it.

“Gran I have to go. I’ve got errands to run. I’m probably going to the library to catch up on some studying.”
There was disappointment twined in her voice this time, “Alright dearie. I’m just glad you’re okay. Remember what I said, don’t trust him. And keep that necklace I gave you on at all times.”

“I won’t forget. Thanks Gran.”

Gilia set the phone back in its base on the cream countertop. She’d forgotten all about the necklace this morning. She stood there a moment longer debating on whether or not to go back upstairs to get it. Her bedroom on the third floor had always been her sanctuary, but that had been destroyed the moment he came to her. But he hadn’t been able to touch her until she’d taken off the necklace, Gilia thought. That’s right; she was sure of it. Maybe if Gilia had kept the necklace on last night, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything.

Heck, what harm could it do?

As she reached her bedroom doorway, Gilia searched around the base of her dresser for the chain with a black onyx on the end and found nothing. What had happened to it? It was there earlier, she thought. Just when she was about to give up searching the rest of her room, Gilia noticed something shiny lying on the top of her pillow like a mint from a hotel maid. But it wasn’t a chocolaty mint; it was her necklace balled up with the stone nestled on top. Her heart was pounding as she glanced around the room and suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, but no one was there. Or was there someone?

Suddenly going to the library didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Snatching the necklace and her black book bag out of the chair by the window, Gilia slung it over her shoulder, raced down the stairs and out the door. Anything was better than being alone in that house right now. What had happen was just too fresh in her mind. It still felt like he was there. Hell, maybe he was. The man did say he’d come back for her. Gilia cringed as she slid into her little blue Camry and glanced up swearing she saw her white lace curtain falling back into place like someone had just been staring out from behind it. She had to get out of there now, Gilia practically screamed inside her head.

The tires slung gravel as she backed away from the red bricked house. Maybe staying with her grandmother, with or without the séances, was a good idea...just until her father returned from his trip. Then he could sort everything out. And if Gilia was fortunate, this whole thing would just go away, the man would never return as if he were just a nightmare and she wouldn’t have to tell her father anything. Uh huh and skunks don’t stink.