Page 48 of Jacob Michaels is Dead

“It’s a’ight, Rob.” He reassured me, his other small hand coming up to pat the top of my hand while his other held it. “You’ll ge’ the hang o’ it.”

“I’m awful.” I groaned. “I don’t even know why this matters. I mean…I’m going to end up dead anyway, right?”

Ernst’s face turned up, and he thumped my hand.

“Now, don’ go talkin’ like all tha’.” He gave me a stern look. “Ya’ gonna end up ‘owever you wan’ to end up. And ya’ will get the ‘ang of this.”

“Maybe.” I sighed. “Thanks for…being my friend, Ernst.”

Ernst’s little cheeks turned pink.

“What?” I asked, finally smiling at him.

“Never ‘ad no friend before.” He mumbled. “’Specially with your kind. Nah supposed ta anyway.”

“Well,” I shrugged, a trait I had learned from Oma over the previous years, “I keep breaking every other rule she gives me. We can break that one, too.”

Ernst grinned impishly up at me as we squeezed each other’s hands.

“I’m honored ta be yer frien’, Rob.”

“Forever, Ernst.” I nodded and leaned down to hug him. “Forever.”

Like stepping out of a fog, things changed. I was no longer remembering my life as a series of memories or dreams, drifting overhead incorporeally, looking down at the events, but instead stepping up to a stage to watch them be acted out. It was almost like I was walking up to the front row of a theater and taking my seat, waiting for the show to start, but I was the only one with a ticket. I gazed out at the scenery before me as nothingness dissolved and was replaced with vague shapes and blurs, slowly coming into focus.

The play…maybe movie?...started with a view of a field of lush, green grass, and I immediately knew that I was looking at the land where Oma’s—my family home—should have been. Except there was no house. But there were more trees. The grass looked more…wild. What would once be called Lake Erie was off in the distance. A young girl skipped into frame, but lazily, as if in slow motion. I stared up at the scene as I—sat there, I guess?—and watched the young girl, probably no more than ten-years-old enter the frame of my vision. In the middle of the field, the girl fell to her knees gleefully, then laid back in the grass, staring up at the brilliantly blue, sunny sky overhead.

Lying there in the grass, the girl’s eyes closed, and she smiled, beatific in her innocence and happiness. I couldn’t help but smile, though in the back of my mind, I remembered why I was experiencing these things. For several moments, I watched the girl in the grass, eyes closed, smiling at nothing…and everything…and then two people stepped into frame. Oma and Carlita. From the girl’s garb and the clothing of the two people I knew already, I ascertained that this had happened so long ago that I had no way of putting a specific date to the events.

Carlita was the first to open her mouth, which startled the girl, though I couldn’t hear what Carlita said, nor could I hear the girl shriek as she sat up quickly and scurried backward like a crab several feet. Oma stepped forward, her hands out as though to calm the girl, speaking mutely as the girl looked up at the two of them warily. For what seemed like forever, but was probably only seconds, I watched the three of them interact silently, not even one piano chord played to this silent movie, and then the girl rose to her feet. She took Oma’s hand with a smile, which Oma returned, and then they walked away, my vision going black.

All I could hear was my heart in my chest, thuh-thumping for the space of a few breaths before the blackness started to fade away, revealing the same field once again, only at night this time. I gasped, though I couldn’t hear that either, as Bloody Bones stood there in his black hooded cloak, fire shooting forth from an upraised hand at the girl. Oma and Carlita were standing several yards away, near the woods, watching as the girl returned her own magics in Bloody Bones direction. I watched in horror, seeing the toll this display was taking on the child, not much older than she had been in the first scene.

The fight wore on for several minutes, back and forth between Bloody Bones and the girl, but finally, with what I could only assume was a scream of rage, Bloody Bones was defeated. He reached towards the sky with fury and panic as the ground split open and he was pulled beneath, scratching and clawing, screaming silently at the girl. Once Bloody Bones had been sealed away, the ground swallowing him and sealing after him, the girl fell to her knees, exhausted and bleeding. Carlita and Oma stepped away from the woods, relieved smiles on their faces, as though they would approach the girl.

Disdainfully, the girl turned her head to glare at the two, making them stop in their tracks, suddenly afraid of this progeny of theirs. With a mouth twisted up in a howl, magic seemed to burst from the girl, spilling out and over the land, sliding over everything in its path. Without hearing a sound, or any narration, I knew this girl was imbuing the land with her magic, sealing Bloody Bones away for as long as the magic could hold. I gasped, though still soundlessly, as the girl fell to the Earth. In direct contrast to how it had accepted Bloody Bones, the Earth accepted the girl, cradling her like a baby in a bassinet, as if lulling her to sleep, slowly absorbing her into the ground, then sealing shut behind her. Magic continued to glimmer, even as the ground sealed gently shut around her body, sparkling over the surface of the land, the trees, the lake in the distance.

Seconds ticked by as Carlita and Oma stared at where the girl had been, until suddenly, a well slowly sprouted from the ground, growing inch by inch until it was waist-high to a man and as wide as a human is tall. Oma and Carlita stared at this strange artifact, unsure of what to make of it. But when green light began emanating from its depths, bathing the ground around it in a sickly green halo, Oma and Carlita looked at each other with concern.

These scenes played over and over in front of me, fading to black, reappearing, disappearing, Bloody Bones fighting to his death. But always with a different opponent. Sometimes a young girl. Sometimes a boy. Sometimes a teenage boy or girl. The well stood watch as they met on this field. Then, after several versions of this fight, a house was the backdrop to the fight, with no well in sight, obviously tucked away in its cellar.

In between each fight, flashing scenes of people peering into the well, their faces illuminated by a sickly green glow, greedy smiles on their faces showed before my eyes. A fight, a different person staring into the well. A fight, a new person going to seek the magic in the well. Over and over, again and again, time passing as battles were fought, and people became greedier and more envious.

Finally, when the scene faded to black, then slowly faded back to show another fight, and I saw a moonlit night, with my father stepping into frame, I screamed.

And I finally heard sound.

“What is it?” I heard my voice.

Looking around, all I could see was darkness. But I had heard my own voice…well, my younger voice…so I knew that I should be seeing something in this vision.

“The source of your family’s magic.”

That was Oma’s voice.

Slowly before me, like when the vision had started previously, a scene came into view. Barely breaking through the darkness at first, then gradually getting lighter and brighter until I could see what was going on. Oma and I were in the cellar of the house. I was on one side of the well in the cellar, and she was on the other. Clearly, I remembered the day I had wandered into the cellar—maybe thirteen-years-old—and found the strange structure right in the center of the room. Oma had always told me not to go in the cellar, going out of her way to remind me that I should never go in the cellar. One day, curiosity got the better of me. Though, when I had finally gone in the cellar and Oma had found me, my eyes had been on the well. I had never looked up at her when we spoke in the cellar, instead looking into the depths of the well. Watching this scene replay, from the outside looking in, I was able to watch Oma instead of the well.

She was smiling.