Cheap Spellbook

I'm just dumping writing here

[cheap-spellbook]

When I moved into Calm Rapids I had no plans for, no idea where, the direction my life would head from there. I knew nothing of the friends I would make, the obsession that would come to consume my life or the pain that I would cause so many. I entered Calm Rapids with very little knowledge of the rules of Heaven and Hell or those who defy them. I simply arrived seeking a fresh beginning and I couldn't even have that.

It was only a few days after my arrival into Calm rapids. I laid naked on top of a second hand mattress with tears running from my eyes. I made the conclusion. I had failed to outrun the pain.

The physical hurt I had long since accepted was going nowhere. The burning pain that plagued my right foot was as a part of my being as the heart beating frantically in my chest. It was the nightmares and sadness that I sought refuge from.

I had fled my family and ran a thousand miles from home. Seeking sanctuary through distance to no avail. I had dreamt of rising from bed without my volition watching passively as my body took up my pocket knife from the bedside table and made its way outside my apartment. 

I screamed silently trapped in my head as my body walked the shared hallway gently trying each doorknob. Searching for one left unlocked. I woke as one hand successfully opened a neighbor's door and the other raised its knife. I was already crying when I woke up.

I made the difficult decision to get out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. A moment's relief later I found myself before the bathroom sink and its terrible mirror. 

I didn't want to look at myself this morning. Seeing the red in my eyes and the wet streaks left from my tears would make them more real than they were before. Physical evidence of an awful dream.

I decided brushing my tooth would take too much effort this morning but convinced myself to gargle some mouthwash. The alcohol burn gave me something else to hate besides myself.

This would be the first of many mornings I'd spend on my couch staring into space. A ritual I came to practice almost like meditation. Almost because instead of focusing on the present I used this time to plan ahead. I'd create elaborate plans to better my life. Complex schemes built from promises from myself. I'd spend the rest of the day breaking these promises.

Eventually this habit drove me to madness or at least the edge of it and I decided to leave my home for some reason other than survival. I think it took two months for the patterns to bring me to this desperation.

I knew no one wanted to see me so I dressed plain to avoid standing out. Even then I worried obsessively about the space I took up. I'd go to get food and take a table for two just for me and panic over how greedy I must come off as. 

I began walking as a way to escape. As long as I was moving I didn't need to think about my life or my mistakes. Eventually this practice led me outside of a small shop in the middle of nowhere near the edge of town. An old man sat outside smoking a pipe.

"Your spirit is restless isn't it young man?"

"What?" The man sat his pipe down and looked up at me.

"You can't sleep at night. You dream of tragedy without fail."

"Yeah I-"

"Don't talk. Come inside."

The man waved me into his store. The door rang a small bell as he pushed it open. The building smelled both of the old books that cluttered the shelves and of cigarettes. He walked me to a small couple chairs and told me to take a seat before pulling the other chair across from me and sitting down himself.

"I know a sad man when I see one. This world is so full of people bowed over from the weight of the regret they carry with them at all times. I was one of these people. Are you one of these people?" As he spoke he gestured at his chest before pointing his finger at me. I was enthralled, and maybe it was only because this was my first meaningful human interaction in months but I believed every word this man said to me

"Yeah, I think I am." The old man nodded sagely and smiled at me. I smiled too.

"I know how to help you let go, but first tell me your name. Mine was Ted short for Theodore but I go by Bear now as it makes me smile to hear."

"My name is Eric."

"Eric, you frowned when you said it. Does your name bring you pain?"

"Just unpleasant memories."

"Then you need not use it, at least for now, let the name be free of its association to your guilt. Choose something new."

"I wouldn't know where to begin." Bear laughed at my hesitation and reached for my hand. I let him take it.

"Names are simply words we call ourselves. Let them have only the power you give them. Choose a word, it need not be forever, just for now." I thought for a while before I spoke again.

"Call me Evening, please."

"Evening, peaceful, a time of rest. Does it make you smile Evening?" I was indeed smiling even as my eyes filled with tears. I nodded my head fiercely. Bear laughed and squeezed my hand.

"Good! Then let us talk."

[cheap-spellbook]

A Few Words on Curses

File 36, of the ████ report, ███, Indiana. Heading south

The Radio Man sits in the passenger seat of William Burroughs's 2004 Honda Accord while the sedan drones its way down gravel paved country roads. The dry summer heat pairing hideously with the manure and horse shit. The car’s ac does nothing to fight the heat, mostly because it’s broken. William forgoes his suit jacket yet sweats through his dress shirt. Johanna stubbornly remains in his leather jacket.

Bored already of counting bean fields and horse buggies Blant leans back in his seat asks his cohort.

“So how much do you know about monsters?” as the words leave Johanna’s mouth William smiles. He doesn’t get the chance to talk about this often, obviously.

“I’d reckon I’ve read a good portion of everything that's written down.” Burroughs waves, “No first hand experience, I’ll admit that. But I've done my research.” A large tractor pulls to the side to let them pass on the narrow road.

“Alright then. As long as your not floundering once we get there.”

“Oh I know! Quiz me.”

“Na.”

“Come on. What else is there to do?”

Blant closes his eyes. Kids got that much right he thinks.

“All right then. How are monsters formed?”

“Easy, Curses.”

“And curses are?”

“A Curse is formed when someone consciously or not weaves together an enormous amount of Hate that manifests as a malevolent entity that corrupts its surroundings”

“Close enough.” The car enters a town. Two houses and a gas station blur past. The car then exits the town.

“Only close?”

“It doesn’t have to be hate. Anything will do. Tremendous grief, insatiable envy, or ungodly disgust all work. Any feeling felt strong enough that wishes to change the world. Positive ones top, man. Call those ones blessings if you want but they do the same thing. Sit and work their way slowly into everything around them warping anything that stays too long into tools to serve them. Rage against a neighbor deforms the neighborhood ‘till nothing left.”

They drive for a minute in silence. They pass a cow. William breaks the silence.

“How do you stop them.” Burroughs waits for Blant to reply. The radio man smooths back his hair and takes time to collect his words.

“It's a lot of work. You either feed the curse everything it stands against. Throwing symbols and confessions of love into a curse of hate or you have to beat them at their own game. Drown them out in your own emotion. Prove them nothing next to a greater source of rage or want and they’ll dissolve into nothing. Satisfied that there’s a greater source of change working in the world.”

Johanna ends the lesson there content to keep the third method to himself for now. A last resort but an option he knows all too well. When all else fails place warning signs, leave the wretched magic be, and just hope nobody's stupid enough to bother it again.

[cheap-spellbook]

The Monster of Greenpark

File 35, of the ████ report, ███, Indiana

"I think it's lovely you're going to help those monsters." Candel Wck whispers as he winds himself around his love. Johanna Blant, The Radio Man, sighs and runs his hands along Wck's serpentine torso. He remembers finding Candel all those years ago.

The reports all spoke of a monstrous snake with a mans face and a fiery eye. This monster guarded the eighth floor of the abandoned Greenpark apartment complex. He had wound himself thought every room twisted into countless knots. Candel Wck would scream and thrash about chasing away all who came near his floor. He survived by snatching birds from outside the windows.

When Johanna arrived it took him days to gain Candel's trust enough to approach him. It took another week of work to untangle him from both the apartment and the binds of the curse that bore him.

For years afterwards Candel still refused any human contact besides Johanna. He loved music though, always had. They listened to Further Temptations on loop while Blant worked on releasing the curse. Bone Idol is still Candel and Johanna's song.

"I just wanted to spend more time home, ya know?" Johanna ran his hands through Candel's braids.

"You would have never said no to the kid."

"I could of for you."

"No you wouldn't. You wouldn't abandon a monster for anyone."

"I wanted to say no. Just lay here with you for more than a day."

"Well to bad Mister Hero." Candel Wck laughs.

[cheap-spellbook]

Enter Aloe Holdsting

File 34, of the ████ report, ███, Illinois

Aloe Holdsting stood by her hotel window phone in hand and ache in head as she listens to her father ramble.

"-And these are important clients so treat them with some damned respect this time. Our reputation is riding on this and reputation is number one in this business!" Saguaro Holdsting's tirade had been going on for 14 minutes and Aloe could see no end in sight.

"Yeah Dad I get it! Show up, act nice and kill the monsters. It's not difficu-"

"Oh by god KILL the beasts this time Aloe! That damned pack you keep around is disgraceful. But I let you have them, because I love you."

"Yep. Okay kill the monsters, fine. I'm hanging up now."

"What, Aloe!"

"Uugh, yeah?"

"I love you."

"Cool, love you too Dad." Aloe ends the call and groans head in hands. Saguaro could never just give her a job. There was always a speech. She throws herself backwards onto the bed. On the other side of the hotel room a toilet flushes and a moment later Wendy Breaker joins Aloe in the room proper. They made an odd pair the two of them. Where Wendy was tall and wiry with long straight hair and a face made for scowling. Aloe was short and fat with frizzy hair and would normally be found with a determined smirk.

Oh course right now was Aloe’s turn to scowl. Wendy makes her way over to the bed and sits next to Aloe, wringing her hands as she spoke.

“I’m going to assume talking to your dad went just as well as it always does.” Wendy brushes Aloes hair with her fingers and sighs.

“So, Who are we killing this time?” Aloe sits up and leans into Wendy.

“Might not have to kill anyone this time. We’re serving as protection for a construction project. As long as no one tries to stop our client no one dies.” Aloe grins up at Wendy

“If they do get in our way however, You get to show them why your name is Breaker.” Wendy smiles as well, showing of her sizable fangs, and trills. Her blade tipped tail lashes behind her in excitement.

[cheap-spellbook]

Enter Radio Man

File 33, of the ████ report, ███, Indiana

William Borough sat down at a long dinner table opposite Candel Wck who was leaned over the table grabbing pieces of pork chop with his saw-like teeth. The wax men had brought his meal out already cut into small chunks. If Candel had arms William never caught him using them. Anything requiring fine motor control a wax man would waddle over to do instead.

“So Mr. Borough,” Candel Wck spoke around a piece of broccoli, “The Wax men said you helped them mop this morning?” Will swallowed his food before replying.

“Is that okay? I was only trying to help.” Candel leaned back and smiled showing off his numerous teeth.

“It’s perfectly fine Good Sir,” His voice gravel on wood, “Simply unnecessary. Those seeking my sanctuary are to be treated as guests. A wax man appeared from the hall and shuffled his way over to Candel Wck motioning for him to lean down and whispered something in his ear.

“I enjoy helping, It's not a burden at all!” William assured. Candel Wck straightened up and sighed before speaking.

“The Wax men are heading out later today to meet with our supplier and wanted to know if you wanted anything, as a way of saying thanks.” Candel’s flaming eye glared at the Wax man.

“Oh, I’m fine, honestly-” Borough is cut off by a new wax man leading in taller not wax man.

“I know the way man you don't have to escort me.”  The newcomer is a heavyset man wearing a black turtleneck underneath a leather jacket. A patch on the jacket as well and his voice confirms to William, this is the man he came here to meet. Radio Man saunters over to Candel who’s positively beaming.

“Heya Sweety, I see who made a new friend?” Radio Man plants a kiss on Candel’s cheek and turns to William.

“So what are you running from? Parents, the police, ghosts maybe?” Radio man throws his arm around Candel Wck and takes a seat. a third wax man carries over a fresh plate of food.

“I’m actually here for you, your last broadcast said you were heading here next.” Radio’s eyes widen a little and he looks over William a bit more intently. 

“So, You're here cause you're a fan of the show?” Radio man broke off as Candel Wck leaned into him laying his chin on radio’s shoulder.

“Well, no. I am a fan don’t get me wrong it's just I came all the way out here out here to ask you for help.” William grows quiet as Radio’s face doesn’t change.

“Listen, I just got back from a job. You know that, and am not sure I’m looking for work so soon kid.” Candel Wck straightens and pouts at Radio Man.

“Aw, Honey Dear let the boy say his piece at least. He has been such a good guest.” Radio man glares back at Wck’s grin for a moment before waving William on to continue.

` “My father bought the Hexenkiefer Forrest and he has plans to clear the whole woods. Dozens of spirits and monsters make their home there and he wants to run them all out. I need help to relocate them before they lose their home.” Willam Borough let out a sigh of relief, maybe he could do this after all.

“Listen kid those monsters have ran out every attempt to reclaim that forest for the last couple hundred years, how is your dad going to be any different.”

“He’s hiring the Holdsting Hunters to slaughter any that put up a fight.”

[cheap-spellbook]

The brothers Grimsworth were born to human parents in a small village. Conjoined at the chest the tiefling brothers Harpsong and Mirth shared everything from the moment they were born. They lived a happy life, loved by their parents, and mentored in their tiefling abilities by their grandmother Joy. Tragedy struck the young boys one fateful winter at the age of 14 when they succumbed to the flu.

The ensuing fever was harsh and bedrid the brothers for weeks. When the sickness and tremors finally cleared only Harpsong was left alive. He slowly learned to make use of the body he once shared and left home. Hoping to leave behind the painful memories and come to terms with himself as one for the first time.

For the next several years Harpsong traveled alone from graveyards to tombs. He studied under apothecarys, healers and murderers. Eventually Harpsong's study of death lead to a breakthrough discovery. The threads of life that intwine all living things can be transferred. Knotting and tethering together enough threads my even bring Mirth back for good this time.

[cheap-spellbook]

Enter Candel Wck

File 32, of the ████ report, ███, Indiana

William Borough had left Indianapolis several hours ago driving north in his 2004 Honda Accord. He was scouring the countryside, driving slowly past Amish buggies, comparing every lone building in the fields to the one on his photocopy. He found the church eventually. Square brick painted white with a faded green roof and one small tower for a bell. If Mr. Borough brushed aside the ivy choking the sign it would read. St. January’s Prayer.

He pulled his way up to the dilapidated structure, grabbed his briefcase from the seat next to him, straightened his tie, and stepped out from his car. The path that snaked its way from the gravel drive to the door was overgrown with dandelions. The door itself was missing completely and as William stepped into the church he was hit by the stench of rotting wood.

“Hello, I’m looking for a drink!” Mr. Borough had practiced the script on his way up. No need to blow his chance by screwing up the edicate. He stepped deeper into the church past pews that reek of damp. In the darkness the shrouded the altar candles began to light. One after another. 9 then 10. 11 candles in all. The eleventh one flickered and sparked then opened its eye. A snake like slit iris of flame looked William over. Before. 

“Saint January had a secret.” A deep belly song that filled Borough with lead. It rang through his head for a moment before he remembered the proper response.

“I h-hear it’s served with ice.” William stuttered but the 11th candle rose high floating 7 feet high and walking closer, a whiskey barrel laugh echoing as the creature showed himself.

The candle was perched upon the head of a tall, thin man. The man had braided hair swept back behind his head and large glossy eyes like a fish. He wore a high collar and long cloak of many layers and materials. When he spoke his teeth were small but razor sharp and too many.

“I call myself Candel Wck, Welcome to my respite. Do you have a trade for my shelter?” the candles behind Candel moved slowly shifting their way towards Mr. Borough who was quick to reply.

“Music! I heard you like music, songs you’ve never heard before. I’ve brought a record I doubt you've had the chance to listen to before.” Candel leaned down to look William in the eye with his Burning one.

“Your well informed sir, Come follow me downstairs. My associates will bring your car around back. It's less likely to bring cops around that way, wondering who's hanging out at the old church.” the other candles entered the light and revealed themselves and stout round men molded from wax. Their featureless faces lit from above by the flickering flames that sat on their head. On paused next to William and outstretched his hand. Borough reluctantly handed over his car keys to the wax man, who then shuffled off to catch up to his brethren.

“And for the record my home is open to anyone who needs it, no payment required but I do love new music so if you wouldn’t mind putting it on for me I would greatly appreciate it!” As Candel Wck walked ahead of William the eye in his fire turned around to look at him. The downstairs was in much better shape, spotless in fact, with dark stained wooden walls and floors covered in plush rugs. William was led past a large room with a writing desk and a queen sized bed with a pale green duvet. This was to be his room as long as he required it. He was told the Candel himself only at one meal a day so that was when the dining table would be set, but that William was welcome to help himself to the pantry in between meals. 

They reached a sitting room with plush green chairs sitting across from a cabinet that held just about every music player known to man. Willam pulled the lime green vinyl record from its sleeve in his briefcase and placed it into a small turntable.

“It’s the soundtrack from my favorite movie.” Willam went to have a seat as track 1 began. Stay Home: performed by Self. Candel swayed to the beat, nodding.

“I like it!”