“Draw two!” My brother exclaimed as he slapped the card down on the pile. I smiled behind the two cards I held in front of my face. “Not today punk!” I said as I slapped my draw to card down on the pile “Draw Four!” “You should learn to respect your elders.” Uncle Carl slipped his card on the pile, “Draw Six.” “Oh snap. Somebody’s going to draw but it isn’t going to be me!” My little sister Ann taunted as she dropped her card on the pile. I laughed, “Draw eight brother dear.” Ann was barely containing her giggles, and even Uncle Carl was smiling. He almost never smiled. Brian glared at us. “Well go ahead,” said Uncle Carl. Brian had to be holding at least twenty cards. The game had not been going his way. “You started this Brian, so draw.” I said. Instead, he threw his cards on the table, as he stood up and his chair toppled to the side. “Way to be dramatic Bri.” Ann rolled her eyes, “you’re such a poor sport.” “You guys suck and you cheat!” He stomped off, and a moment later his door slammed. “He always does this, I don’t know why we bother,” I said. Uncle Carl started gathering up the cards. Static seemed to fill the air, and lightning cracked outside. We were all back sitting in our seats holding cards. I looked around the table. I looked around the table, my siblings and my uncle were wearing identical expressions of shock and fear. My brother slapped the draw two card down again and shouted “Draw two.” His voice cracked this time, and as I looked at him he mouthed “what is going on?” I started to shake my head and say I don’t know, as I felt my hand move of it’s own accord and the words “not today punk” forced out of my mouth. The game continued to play out exactly as before. This time after Brian stomped off and slammed his door. Uncle Carl, Anne, and I just sat staring at each other in shock. I turned as I heard my brother’s footsteps coming back down the hallway. The static started filling the air, and the lightning cracked outside. The game repeated, and repeated, and repeated. This was hell.
Being the master chef at an exclusive, high end restaurant was the perfect disguise. Few would suspect me based on my appearance alone, my petite figure, curls pulled into a poof on my head, and smooth, brown skin made me seem harmless. Wearing children’s clothes furthered my disguise of a helpless innocent. The last person you would expect to cause anyone harm. My appearance alone wasn’t enough. If I stayed somewhere long enough, people began to notice they had never seen me outside during the day. Excuses would work for a time, but then the hunters would start showing up. Even in this modern age when few believe in the supernatural there are those who believe, those who’s families have been hunting us for generations. This is where the restaurant comes into play. Several decades ago, I found this to be an excellent cover. I could be seen at fish markets just as dawn was arriving. Without ever stepping into daylight people connected my with the day. Then my restaurant served only dinner and opened late in the evening. I made sure to make dining in my restaurant a unique, luxurious experience. It was fabulous, and the late opening hour was just one of it’s many quirks.
The restaurant business became a boon. A way to stay in one place for years without questions. Truthfully, it also supplied me with an excellent food supply. The dinners would be so full of good food and wine, they didn’t notice the bite, and if they felt fatigued the next day it was chalked up to too much wine and staying out too late. They never noticed the blood loss.
So why tell you now, you may ask? I tell you this now Marco, because you have been a true and loyal friend and I think you deserve the truth. I know that you have noticed my oddities, and have for some time suspected that things are not as they appear. I haven’t met another of my kind in over twenty years. I have been roaming this planet for 200 years, and I’m done. By the time you read this I will be ash on the wind. Goodbye my friend.
P.S. I named you as executor of my estate. You may contact Cain and Son’s Law Firm to carry out my last wishes. They know what I am, and you only need this letter of proof. They will arrange everything.
Michael Channing stood at the end of the dock watching the diving crews work across the lake. They were searching for the body of 13 year old Laura Shuple. The girl and her brother Jacob had been kayaking across the lake when according to the boy it suddenly flipped, dumping them both in the water. He had come up in moments, aided by his life jacket, ready to yell at his older sister. “Laura that wasn’t funny!” He yelled as he rubbed the water out of his eyes. Laura, a year and a half older than her brother wasn’t one to play pranks, but she knew he was scared of swimming in the lake, and he thought this must be payback for the scare he gave her last night. She didn’t reply, and he didn’t hear the laughter he had expected. “Laura?” He called out. Eyes clear, he treaded water, turning in a circle to look for his sister. Jacob saw that he had drifted some from the kayak, which was still overturned. He thought she must be hiding under it. He swam awkwardly to the kayak, and with a little effort, flipped it back over. No Laura. He climbed in carefully, so as not to flood it with water. There was real fear on Jacobs face now. They were almost in the middle of the lake, and there was no way Laura could swim to the shore without him seeing. Was she wearing her life vest, he wondered, in panic. He couldn’t remember. Jacob stood up, shouting his sisters name, and nearly fell back in as the kayak bobbed. He spotted her paddle floating towards the shore. It was nearly halfway there. Maybe she did swim back. Jacob knelt and began paddling with his hand. It wasn’t long before he made it to the paddle, and then took even less time to make it to shore. He raced across the lawn to the cabin his parents had rented. He wanted to yell at his sister, that was some evil prank. She wasn’t there either, and his heart leapt in his chest. That was six hours ago. Now the dive crews searched the lake, and Michael stood on the dock. He could see the boy, with his parents standing to the side watching the crew work. It was too far to see their expressions, but he could imagine. He had stood in that exact same place twenty years ago as the lake was searched for his sister. They had never found her body, just as they would not find Laura’s body. In the last twenty years, eight girls had disappeared in this lake and none had been found. The boy, Jacob, had been right to fear swimming in this lake. There was something that lurked beneath the water. Something that liked to prey on girls.
The mummy exhibit was finally nearing completion. It was a spectacular display of artifacts that would inhabit the entire east wing of the museum. The artifacts, jewelry, artwork, and pottery of the ancient civilizations that lived along the Nile river were spectacular. The only piece missing was the mummy of the Chantress of Amun Re. Unbeknownst to the museum curators, he had prepared the spot with detailed perfection, creating the symbols of resurrection with invisible ink. His only lament was that he would be absent when the symbols were activated and brought the temple singer back to life.
