Chapter Eleven: Mr. Grieves’ Curse:

1833.

Mr. Grieves had just escaped from the plantation. His frail body pushed itself to keep going. His feet trembled through the swamp as he panted. Blood ran down from his eyes. This was all part of his ritual. All part of his curse. All part of his revenge. Mr. Grieves drew out a knife and cut his hand. He chanted as the blood dripped onto the surface of the murky water. The dogs barked in the background. They were coming. Mr. Grieves held his hands up in the sky. He knew this would be it. He let out a loud scream to the sky.

When the overseers found him, his body was covered in maggots.

1991.

I sat on my bed when Grandma and Doris came into my room.

“Sweetheart,” Grandma said. I lifted my head.

“What?” I asked. They sat on either side of me. The worried looks on their faces scared me.

“Did I do something bad?” I asked.

“No, dear,” Grandma said, shaking her head. She pulled me into her arms. Doris kept her eyes on me.

“Do you see the man in the window?” she asked. I slowly nodded. Doris put her hand on my forehead and began chanting. Grandma held me in place. I looked back and forth as my heart pounded against my chest. Doris’ eyes rolled back into her head.

“Grandma?” I asked. “What is she doing? Grandma? Grandma?”

“Shhh,” she whispered. My body started shaking. I looked out for Miranda. I couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Miranda? Miranda? What is happening to me?” I asked. “Please stop!” Grandma shushed me again and kissed me on top of my head. Doris let out a low groan and released me.

“How is it?” Grandma asked. Our maid caught her breath.

“It will take more work,” she said. “But he won’t touch her now.”

“Good, good,” Grandma said. She held me tightly in her arms. I was still scared and confused.

“It’s okay now,” Grandma whispered. “That scary man in your window won’t hurt you. We fixed the problem.” That was the thing. Doris may have stopped Mr. Grieves from hurting me, but she also let something in with me. I was trembling in Grandma’s arms. She put her hand on my forehead.

“She’s burning up!” she wailed. Everything sounded muzzled around me. I started breathing heavily.

“Call a doctor!” was the last thing I heard Grandma yell. That would be the night I ended seeing and hearing more things that I did not wish to. Years later, I would learn that Mr. Grieves’ curse had already sank its fangs into me.