November Short Story Competition

Dagger Turns to Glass

Sneaking up on my little brother Luke has always been one of my favorite past times. I swear it’s why I was put here on this earth, to see a twelve-year-old on the verge of wetting himself.  My parents used to keep this box of old costumes from the 80’s in our attic, but now all of the mask reside in my room for not so rare occasions like the present. The one I’m wearing today is a really ugly, wrinkly, mole filled old man’s face. Sprouting from the top of the mask is red curly out of control hair. You can’t see an ounce of myself behind it. Its dusk, with the sun setting quickly, just enough light glimmers through the window in his bedroom. Enough for me to see but the right amount to feel hidden in.

Luke loves music and reads a book an hour. He is lying on his bed, so peacefully minding his own business, loud music filling his ears and a new book resting in his palms. His arm is propped up behind him and he is wearing brand new jeans that Mom just bought him. Dark denim, really nice pair of un-wetted jeans. I chuckle to myself.  Luke is a rather introverted kid, he really enjoys time to himself, it’s such a shame he has a sister like me. In about two seconds he is going to wish I were never born.

I crouch down really low and get into an army crawl. I can already feel the giggle creeping up into my belly wanting so badly to escape. Suppressing it only makes me want to laugh more. I use my forearms to ever so gently crawl to the right side of his bed. He has no idea I’m below him, he is probably lost in some far-fetched kingdom, feeling like he has his hand perched on the top of a hilt, ready for battle with his own army filling behind him. I crawl as close to his bed as possible, I can hear his music blaring in his headphones, drowning out any possible sound I accidentally make. You would think he would learn not to wear them anymore. Poor kid.

I finally reach the side he is lying on and I grab a hold of his bed-sheet. When I stand up to scream in his face I’m going to pull it out from him so he thinks this awful man, is pulling him down to the gates of hell.

I silently count to three, stand up and begin the show.

“AHHHHHH, what the, what the..” Luke jumps out of his bed and stampers backward toward the door.

“Victoria, you evil homosapien.” He says between heavy breaths.

“You’re such a nerd, just remember I love you, and it’s good for you.” And with that I leave the room.

I walk back to my room, put the mask back in its sacred hiding box, and go downstairs to grab a snack before bed. As I approach the main level I over hear Mom and Dad talking about something that seems important. I kneel down on the steps and innocently take a listen.

In a very low voice I hear dad whisper, “You know, if that boss of yours continues to give you problems we could break out the Stalin.”

“This is precisely why I love you, now we need to deal with our daughter and her annoying uncontrollable need to frighten Luke.” Mom whispers back.

Oh great, that’s my que to leave these two history nerds alone. We live in Anniston, Alabama, where my Mom and Dad work for the Berman Museum of World History. They met while history majors at Harvard, accidentally had me, got jobs at the Berman, and we moved to Alabama. When I was three they had my brother Luke. Luke is following right in their footsteps, I on the other hand have no idea what is going on in this crazy life. I love my family but our golden retriever more. I may end up going to vet school somewhere in the far away future. Although I am very different from my family they still love and support me. The five of us have dinner together every night, we basically a have fairy tale bond. Lilly the golden, being the fifth member at our feet catching scrapes of mashed potatoes is included in all of our human activities, as a dog should be. My parents never seem to argue, at least not in front of us. I guess when you marry someone so much like you, it isn’t too difficult to work and live together. They do however leave for a week at a time throughout the year and leave us kids at home to fend for ourselves. Nothing ever really changes, Luke and I are pretty responsible individuals.

Suddenly, as I am lost in thought, there is a knock on the door and the pair walks in.

Mom starts in. “Honey I know you get a great deal of pleasure from being the house clown but your brother is walking on egg shells these days.”

I shouldn’t say this but I do, “Yeah, well, he shouldn’t keep his headphones on all the time and he wouldn’t be so easy.” A long pause, they clearly don’t get my humor. “Okay fine, I promise I won’t do it as often.” I feel like I am surrendering my favorite hobby.

And now dad begins his clearly scripted portion. “To insure that promise is kept we have decided that tomorrow since you two are off from school, you will clean and straighten up the attic.”

“But tomorrow is my only day to rest, the attic is going to take the entire day!” I protest.

“Rest from what? You don’t have that hard of a life sweetheart, you can do this for us, and learn to give your brother a break.” Did I say I loved my Dad?

“Ugh okay fine, will do.”

We say our good-nights and they leave me to silently weep in my bed as I watch my entire day tomorrow go to misery. Falling asleep, I drifted off thinking of the children’s stories about monsters in the attic. That night I dreamt of them.

The next morning, I wake up to the sun shining brightly through my bedroom window. Sleeping in is nice until it feels as if a fire has started itself on your face. At least I got a few extra hours of sleep. After a quick shower, I go downstairs and make Luke and I breakfast. This will probably be the only time I see him all day. Mom bought him a new book for his day off school and I’m stuck cleaning the attic. We both scoff down our pancakes and sausage and after putting on some old clothes I head for the attic string.

Each time I pull on the string I swear it feels as if I am going to pull down the roof with me, the attic door just barley creeps open each time. Then with the release of my hands it slams back to meet the ceiling once again. This is for the birds. How am I even going to get up there to clean it? I grab the string and pull with everything inside me. Slowly the door peaks open, and the stairs are visible. Its dark and I cannot see the monsters that have to be hidden in the dust up there. Finally, I am able to release the stairs. Climbing up, pieces of ceiling fall each time I put weight on the steps.

When I reach the top and finally step on the brittle floor, I find a tiny light switch and cut it on. With the room lit up I can fully see why I was asked to clean this. Dust so thickly covering boxes and tubs with Christmas and other holiday decorations packed inside them. There is a box labeled family albums, baseballs and bats, and other attic like containments. It is pretty well organized but in need of a good wipe down of pledge and some physical scrubbing. I put my hair up in a bun so that is isn’t in my way, shake the dust and dirt off me, and get to work.

It’s a good thing I brought a whole thing of pledge and more than one rag up here because after dusting off one tub, the rag is a nasty blackish brown, and I need knee pads. This is going to hurt tomorrow. I start on the right side of the room closest to the window and see kids playing out in the street. I get this overwhelming sensation of being in jail. Looked up in the attic by my parents and asked to clean has to be a crime. If social services came it’s not like they could hide me, with every step there is a loud creek, the floor beneath me is ready to drop any moment now.

After cleaning off a few tubs, stacking and re-organizing some boxes I come across a white sturdy box in the very back corner. There is no label on this odd box, and still bleach white, dust hasn’t touched it. Curious as to what it contains, I open the flaps and reach in. There are about twenty smaller boxes, still unlabeled, and untouched of dust and dirt. Must be magic I think and chuckle to myself, as if such things existed. If in fact they did, I wouldn’t be here cleaning this attic. Trying to forget about the old saying “curiosity kills the cat”, I open one of the smaller boxes.

Inside I find a glass, translucent, Christmas ordainment? Carefully I pull it out. On the outside a name is written.

“Vladimir Lenin”, I say aloud.

This name reads and sounds in a familiar way. I think I remember reading about this guy in one of my history books from school. Please, do not tell me that my parents are such nerds that they have Christmas ordainments from their favorite history villains. If these are ordainments they don’t have hooks to attach to the tree, and I haven’t ever seen them before.  Now in the mindset of Sherlock Holmes, I place Vlad back in the box and gently pick up another one.

“Hopefully Jack the Ripper?” Okay, this is getting even stranger. First of all, what do you mean hopefully? Partly out of horror and partly out of confusion I place the glass ball back into its box and hope that my brother drugged my orange juice and this isn’t actually happening. A tight, sickening knot beings to wrap itself around my inner stomach. This has to be some sort of bad joke. With a strand of hope left inside me I pick up one more individual box and open it. The same familiar glass shaped ball is inside. Not having a clue in the world why, I slowly pull it out.

The name written on the front of this one is “Jonah Siavish”.

“Victoria!!”

As soon as Luke’s scream hits my ears, the glass ball slides out from under my fingertips. What was once one piece, is now at least a hundred lying on the floor below me.

“What do you need Luke, I am busy cleaning up here?” I turn and yell back down the attic ladder.

“Nothing, never mind” His voice travels back up to me.

“pssssttttt.” I feel a tiny hot breath reach the back of my neck and with it my hair stands up.

“Don’t scream, you will ruin the fun for both of us.” A mischievous, adenoidal voice commands as tiny pieces of spit carries with it.

I slowly turn around and a very large standing, scrawny man is towering over me. 

“W.. Wh… Who are you and where did you come from?” I demand.

“Oh, a pleasure to meet you too, you have the privilege to be standing in front of time travel.” This man has got to be nuts. But then again, how did he get here? I didn’t leave any windows open, Luke knows not to let strangers in, I must be crazy.

“Sir, I don’t know who you are or how you got here but you need to leave immediately.” I say, as if he is actually going to listen.

“Hahamwahhaha.” His laugh really creeps me out. I can feel my stomach twisting and turning like an old roller-coaster coming off its hinges.

“My name is Jonah Siavish, which you should have noticed written on the ball that you so kindly dropped for me.” I didn’t do anything for this nut case.

“Excuse me I didn’t do anything for you.”

“Victoria who are you talking to up there!?!” My brother yells from below the attic door.

I look down to see him with a very confused face.

Praying Jonah doesn’t speak any louder I reply, “No one, just arguing with myself about how to organize these boxes.”

With that he walks away. He’s so easy. As I turn to deal with the current situation at hand, I feel a breeze that I have yet to feel while cleaning the attic.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I whisper to myself, realizing I must be dreaming and within this dream Jonah has escaped out of the window. Panicked I look around the room for anything that could possibly help me. Searching through the last box there is a century old diary. Anything will be helpful at this point. Opening up to the first page I recognized my Dad’s handwriting immediately. Conveniently, out falls a handwritten letter to him from my mother. It reads:

I have been passed down the instructions on how to safely enclose these evil begins of history. Once we use the time travel process we discussed in the last letters, and find the location of the suspect all we need is the dagger I have shipped along with this letter. Once we stab the suspect, their entire being will be enclosed in a glass ball that will later be shipped to us from the ministry with their name on the front of it. Next fall when you move here to the states we will spend the rest of our lives keeping these containments safe and our days in the field will be completed. Our next target is Adolf Hitler; we go back to Nazi Germany tomorrow morning at 9am sharp. Once you travel, you will arrive at a bakery similar to the last one we met at, and I will be waiting in a corner booth.

Forever Love,

Dr. P

Having to now make an effort to take regular breaths, I grab the dagger resting next to where the diary was placed, climb down the stairs and I’m out the door. If this guy is from somewhere back in history he can’t be far, he won’t recognize anything around him. I can’t believe any of this is happening and I am going to have to have a serious talk with my parents, but for now I don’t have time to worry of that.

Walking out of my house and into the open world with a dagger just hanging out in my hand doesn’t seem too intelligent, so I conceal it between my spine and my pants band. I think I saw that on a movie once, nevertheless it should hold for now. If I were a, God knows how old, villain from history, where would I go first? Looking around, I realize there is a coffee shop along the next block and the smell would bring any newcomer there. I take off, running as fast as one could with a dagger on their back.

Opening the door, a bell hits the glass and everyone in the shop turns to me. I frantically look around but no Jonah in here. Crap, where could he have gone in such a short time. Walking back out of the coffee shop, having acquired many strange looks from guest, I head to the next smelly business attached, the bakery. In any ordinary town a bakery and a coffee shop would be combined but mine just had to be different. It can be nice, when you don’t want to be tempted with a cupcake and would rather just get away with coffee. But who’s mind has a thought like that cross it. 

Glancing in the window I peak in and see Jonah sitting at a table speaking with a young lady. Oh good he’s made some friends. This really couldn’t get any worse. I stand against the brick of the building contemplating how to handle this. I can go in there and try to convince him to calmly leave with me, I could pretend to be his wife and be angry he’s appearing to be on a date, with hopes of the woman leaving on her own, or I could just drag him out by his hair. The latter seems the easiest as long as no one calls the police.

Steeping into the bakery, I smell the familiar scent of my favorite sweets and am momentarily distracted.

“You mean you can communicate with someone who is not in the same area as you, and you don’t need to send it through mail?” I hear Jonah ask the poor woman.

“Sir do you need me to escort you to a medical facility I think something may be seriously wrong, your sugar may be low.” She replies as I walk up to the table.

“Excuse me miss I am sorry if he caused you any harm, he will be leaving with me now. Come on Jonah let’s get you home and give you your medicine.” I can’t believe I am saying this right now.

“I am not going anywhere with you, you’re going to put me back in that glass ball and I will be doomed there forever without life. I do not think so young lady.” And with that I grab him by the shirt, he may be tall but he is skinny and weak from all the years of I guess you could call it hibernation. I have no realistic idea. Kicking and screaming we now have a crowd watching us. I drag him outside and into the alley on the other side of the two shops.

Pinning him against the wall I give him a farewell before I end this. “Listen Jonah, I do not know anything about you, where you came from or who you are, but I do know what I need to do and I am very sorry for that.”

I slowly pull the dagger out, and interpret his plea with a sharp blade to his heart.

“Excuse me you’re under arrest!” I hear a familiar voice yell down the alley.

I look up from Jonah’s lifeless body and see the lady from the coffee shop coming toward me with a badge. Oh wonderful, she must have been an under-cover police officer and she so kindly followed us. Just my luck, still holding the dagger in Jonah’s heart, I notice him begin to turn to ash. With the world closing around me, hoping to wake from a dream, I release my grip on the dagger and I flea.

 

 THE END