So we are back in the woods were Dennis was last seen...damn almost forgot about him.
Dennis woke up for the third time that day. Or was it the fourth?
Didn't matter but he was alive....Mostly.
There was a ceiling above him cracked wood, flaking in all the right places. A spider in the corner was either doing yoga or plotting a tiny murder. Somewhere close, water flowed softly. Birds chirped like they didn't live in a cursed world.For a second, it was peaceful.Then the smell hit.
Burnt something; garlic or maybe fear.
"Don't move too much now," a voice called.
Dennis turned, groaned and saw a man standing in the doorway with the build of a retired tree; Garry. Holding a cup of something steaming and suspicious.
"Where… am I? Heaven?" Dennis muttered.
Garry chuckled, stepping in. "Son, if this is heaven, God's got some questionable interior design taste. You're in my house, by the river. I found you passed out like Moses without the budget. Dennis tried sitting up. His ribs filed a complaint then entered Jasmine.
Small, tense, and holding a bowl of something that looked like soup but smelled like a curse."Eat this," she said.Dennis blinked. "What is it?""Soup.""What kind?"
Jasmine stared at him like he'd just asked her to solve a killer case. "The healing kind."Dennis stared at the bowl and It stared back."Great," he muttered. "Can't wait to poop out a miracle."
Jasmine didn't laugh. Jasmine didn't do laughter, she hovered,she loomed,she crept around the house like the floor owed her rent.At first, she was sweet...gave him warm towels. Tucked him in like she was auditioning for Creepy Grandma of the Year. But by day two, things got weird.
There were whispers, glances and her creepy salt lines across the windows. She started labeling the salt jars "demon ward," "ghost ward," "emotional trauma ward."
Then came the knives.Under pillows, In the fruit bowl and In the soap.
Dennis knew paranoia when he saw it. Jasmine? She saw the Antichrist in dust particles."You okay, ma'am?" he asked one evening."I had a dream," she whispered, eyes fixed on nothing. "You were floating. Eyes glowing. Speaking backwards."
Dennis blinked. "Are you sure that wasn't your husband's snoring?"She didn't blink.
The next night, she blessed his socks with sage. The night after that, he woke up choking on crushed eggshells."Protection," she said softly.He didn't sleep after that. The soup started looking at him funny. He was sure the salt was moving. One night he caught her whispering to a potato.
Then came the finale.
He woke up to her standing over him. Knife in hand, eyes wide. Breathing like she was doing a horror movie audition.
"You're cursed," she whispered. "I felt it. Something inside you. It's not human."
He did the only thing a traumatized, exhausted nine year old boy could do.
He screamed. Loud. High-pitched. The kind that summons neighbors and ghosts.
Garry ran in, nearly slipped on a salt line, and screamed too mostly out of confusion.
Dennis didn't wait for explanations. He booked it, barefoot and In his bandages. He ran out the door straight into the moonlight .
And Jasmine? She stood at the doorway, whispering blessings and throwing rice like he was marrying Satan."