Paid in Full

From my brain

COPYRIGHT 1992

Jonathan Parker and I had been friends since elementary school. We lived next door to each other for the majority of our developing years. His parents had been divorced since was very young, even before I had met him. As a result, he grew close with his mother, whom he lived with. He never really had anyone else to play with, so its possible our friendship may have grown out of me feeling sorry for him. Anyhow, we were the best of friends even when his mother's inheritance of a rather large estate caused them to move away. For many years, we remained in close contact through our letters.

I received a very usual letter from Jonathan's mother sometime last October (or possibly November). The letter was of great interest to me because Jonathan had not answered any of my letters for the previous six months. I tore into the envelope, eager to read its contents.

Something strange has come over Jonathan. He stays in his room almost the entire day; leaving only to got to his classes. When he returns home, he goes directly to his room and works on his class work. At supper, he scarcely says a word through the entire meal. I ask him how classes when and he merely nods and says, "Fine." We finish our meal and he proceeds to lock himself in the attic. Sometimes he falls asleep whiles he's up there. At other times, I hear the sounds of rushing winds and creaking boards mingled with odd and frightening laughter. I can't get through to him anymore. Please come to visit us. You may be the only one to help him through this.

Sincerely,

A. Parker

On conclusion of the letter I contacted my employer and was given an appropriate amount of time off. The next day I flew off to Jonathan.

I arrived early that afternoon at the Parker house. The building was set far off in the countryside; a refreshing change from the noise of the city. The taxi dropped me off at the wooden gate of the old stone fence in front of the house. The aged rocks accentuated even more the placidity of the surroundings. The fence circled the entire house, and from what I could see, there was not one fault anywhere to be seen in it. Not one rock lay on the ground at any point along the wall. Passing through the gate, large rectangular slabs of sandstone proceeded to the porch steps.

As I drew nearer the house, it seemed far too large for just too people. It stood a full three stories, possibly a fourth as an attic. The siding on the house was very weather-beaten; the paint was chipping badly. Looking upward as I walked, I noticed lights flickering on and off continuously in the four arched attic windows.

The old porch boards creaked loudly no matter how lightly I stepped. The large oak door matched the fine craftsmanship of the entire house. I grabbed hold of the heavy iron ring of the knocker and let it loose. The deep coldness of the iron chilled me to the bone as I looked into the eyes of the dragon carving which held it in its maw. The eyes seemed alive with a thousand fires. For a moment, I began to daydream (perhaps hallucinate) that smoke began to billow from the dragon's nostrils. My dream was broken by Ms. Parker's kind voice.

"You've made it," she said, sounding relived. She took my bags from my hand and then embraced me, "It's good to see you again." I could not see her, but I'm sure she wept a little. Ms. P. had always been like a second mother to me, and it was good to see her once again. She looked very tired though. Always a slender woman, she now was terribly thin, sickeningly so. Also, deep bags hung below her eyes. It was clear signs of a worried mother sitting up late at night.

"It's good to see you too Mom," --she let me call her Mom, she had "adopted" me-- "How's he doing?"

"He's still the same as when I wrote you," sadly shaking her head in despair.

"Did you tell him I was coming?"

"No, I wanted it to be a surprise. He's up in the attic, as always. Follow the stairs to the top; the second staircase leads to the attic. I'll take your things." She picked up the bags, then set them back down again and hugged me once more. "It really is good to see you."

"Thanks, Mom," I said, smiling, feeling sorry for her. I couldn't imagine what she must have been going through; being so separated from a son she was so close to.

The walk up the stair was longer than I had thought it would be. The stair boards creaked much in the same way as the porch boards had. As I reached the second floor landing, on each side there was a large oak door identical to the front door. (Thankfully they were without that dreadful dragon though.) The staircase continued up on my left.

The third floor was similar in most appearance to the second. This time, a shorter and narrower staircase continued upward. The stair to the attic held a different feeling than that of the the main stair. Where the latter had creaked loudly with each step I took, I could hardly even hear the touch of my shoe against the boards. This was especially odd being that the steps were bare and the main stairs were carpeted.

I mentioned feeling. The main stair had been comforting; it felt like home. The attic stair had a peculiar coldness to it. As I continued up to walk up, I had the same strange waking-dream state that I experienced at the front door. As before, the door's opening brought me out of my trance. This time, it was not a warm, friendly face to greet me. Jonathan sat working across the room busily working at some project in test tubes. Even from behind, he looked strange. It nearly caused me to retreat back downstairs.

"Come on in," he answered back to my silence as he continued to work, "I'll be done in a minute."

I slowly stepped into the room. It look ghastly; cobwebs were strewn everywhere. A podium was set far back in the corner near where he sat. On it, rested a large, leather-bound book; obviously old by the yellowish tinge of the pages. To add to the eeriness, a trio of ravens perched themselves five feet over Jonathan's head. One of them looked down and met my eyes with a menacingly cold glare.

I gathered up the courage to take a few steps further into the room and nearer to my friend. He didn't look at all as I had remembered him. Granted, a few years had passed since we had last seen each other in person or in picture, but this was nothing to be expected. He had always had short, black hair, brushed straight back. His hear was still brushed the same, but it now was long, with silver streaks running horizontally on either side of his head.

Now, by silver, I do not mean gray. Any ordinary shade of gray could not be capable of capturing the sunlight in such a way. It was an actual metallic silver. Suddenly, the ravens fluttered, and flew out the window, startling me.

At the same moment (I am unsure whether before or after they moved) Jonathan exclaimed, "There, done!" He spun around on his stool. "It's great to see you again! I was wondering how long it was going to take you to get here. How've you been?"

I was unsure how to answer him. "Fine," I said. It just didn't seem like the same Jonathan.

"Fine. Fine?! We don't see each other for six years and all you can say to me is 'fine'?" What the hell's the matter with you?" he said, laughing as he came over and embraced me. Then he turned back and began to clean up a bit. All I could do was laugh. Now this did seem like the same old Jonathan.

After he finished, we went downstairs and had supper with Ms Parker. Once when Jonathan's back was turned, she looked toward me and shrugged her shoulders in confusion.

The next week went on without incident, including any of things Ms. Parker had written about. The thing that continued to puzzle me were the ravens in the attic. Whenever I would go up to so see Jonathan (he still went up there, though the door remained open), the birds would flutter off into the recesses of the attic and disappear. Then Jonathan would abruptly stop working. If I didn't go up there, sometimes he would be up there for hours at a time.

It was on the eighth day of my stay that the most dreadful of any imaginable events occurred. The night before, I had heard strange voices and sounds of winds coming form the attic where Jonathan had been all day. I deafened my ears to it and fell back asleep. We awoke the next morning to find that Ms. Parker had died, still lying peaceably in her bed.

We held the funeral three days later. It was very emotional for me, but I didn't see anything at all in Jonathan. At the time, I had just thought that he was going though shock, but there had been something more.

That evening, I asked Jonathan what he was going to do now.

"Now?" he said, scratching the stubble on his chin, "Now I'm gonna have the time of my life!" A cruel sickening look came over his face as I heard the flutter of wings at the window. The ravens had perched themselves on the sill.

I stared at him in disbelief, "But, your mother just died! Aren't you upset at all?"

"What? That old hag? I've been trying to get her off of my back for years. Com'on upstairs, I gotta show you something." He led me up the dizzying staircases and into the attic. The door opened before we were halfway up. The ravens too were already on their perch.

He walked over to the podium and pulled down the old book. "Here, look at it. I found it under some loose floorboards in my bedroom."

On the leather-bound cover, in silver detailing, was the inscription Necromantia Arcanus. In the same silver was the encircled star--a pentagram.

"Witchcraft?" I looked at him puzzled.

"Beyond your wildest dreams, my friend. Now, let me see it." He grabbed the book from my hands and flipped through the pages. "Here it is: Death of the Unwanted."

"Are you saying you used magic to kill your mother?"

"Yes," he said it so blankly and without remorse, I couldn't believe it was the same person I had grown up with. "Go ahead, read it."

I read the passage (silently) that he pointed out to me. It described in detail how to cast the spell. I also read a bit beyond the passage.

"Jonathan, what is this part here: 'payment must be made upon the casting of the spell.'?"

"Big deal. I can pay for anything I need now. The old crone had been stashing money away for years. Anyhow who do I have to pay? There isn't anyone I have to answer to now."

He stood there and laughed until he started to dance around like a mad fool. I dazedly walked downstairs in disbelief. I had to get out and go for a walk.

I returned from my walk about a half an hour later to see the attic windows all aglow with shifting red light. I tore into the house; all of the chairs had been overturned. Furious gusts of wind came blowing down the stairway. My mind immediately flashed to the passage in the book--payment.

I rushed up the stairs and up to the attic, but the door wouldn't open. I rammed into it full force, nearly knocking myself backwards in the process. The hinges gave, and the sight I saw will be one I will never forget and can scarcely put into words.

My friend stood poised in the middle of the room holding the book in one hand. On the opposite expanse of the room a giant vortex of swirling red fire loomed before him. Winds blew forth and fire licked out seemingly from the depths of hell itself. Out of this vortex emerged a hideously demonic creature. It stood nearly ten feet tall with two massive arms ending in enormous clawed hands.

"Foolish mortal," the beast blasted forth, "Did you think you could escape payment for the favors which have been granted you?" You must pay, and pay you will!"

Jonathan raised a shaking hand into the air. Electrified pulses of blue energy shot from his fingertips. The beast raised a claw and the bolts disappeared.

"You dare to insult my powers by using them against me? Now you shall see what is the punishment for those who cross me!" The beast took the same hand that had scattered the energy and pointed it at Jonathan. The bolts flared forth in one unified force, ten times more powerful than Jonathan's bolts. I witnessed that moment my friend's body being shred to pieces before I ran away horrified. I scrambled desperately out of the house, running for both my life and my mortal soul.

I never looked back until I had reached the road. Looking back, I saw the house being spun violently in a cyclone. The house burst into flames, leaving nothing but the stone fence and its memory in my mind. My friend and the house were gone, and all debts had been paid in full.