A Curse is Broken

Once upon a time, I wrote a story called The 13 Tombs. It's the earliest in the thirteen series, and has gone through several drafts as the overall story changed in my mind. This is the prologue to the most recent one. Enjoy!

The 13 Tombs: Prologue
"A Curse is Broken"

It wasn't a house one would be inclined to enter voluntarily. In fact, it was a house most people would be likely to avoid. Dilapidated was hardly the word for it; saying the house was dilapidated suggested that it was old and falling apart. And while this certainly appeared true of some sections of the house, there were many sections which could only be described as mutated. One wall resembled a candle whose flame had been in a breeze, so that the dried wax had all collected on one side. And yet for all its unstable appearance, the house seemed more like a secure prison than anything else. It was solid in its deformities, with no apparent intention of falling apart, or even for that matter, opening its doors or windows.

But these weren't the main reasons people would be likely to avoid this house. No, the main reason was that this house had never before been seen in this town. It had not been recently constructed or dropped off. It had simply . . . appeared. No one knew where it came from or what was inside it . . . and no one seemed in a big hurry to find out, either.

Eleven-year-old Samantha Shulman understood all this, and whole-heartedly echoed the sentiment. If it were up to her, she would not go near this house. As a matter of fact, if it were up to her, she wouldn't be out here at all. Unfortunately, it wasn't up to her. Because, Samantha was best friends with Tabbitha Forrester. Tabbitha was aggressive, overpowering, and pushy, everything that Samantha was not. But above all else, Tabbitha was mischievous. Every time she got a gleam in her eye, everyone around her looked for somewhere else to be. She seemed always to be scheming something, and she was fiendishly clever. And Samantha usually ended up being either a target or an accomplice for her pranks. Now, Tabbitha was eyeing the odd house with that gleam in her eye. Unfortunately, there was no where else for Samantha to be.

"Look at it, Sam," she said, drooling over the house like the guys in their class drooled over scantily clad women. "Just look at it."

"I'm looking," Samantha said, shortly.

"Isn't it great?"

"Not the word I would have used . . ."

"C'mon, let's go!" Tabbitha practically bounded for the house.

"Tab! Wait a minute!" Tabbitha stopped.

"What?" she asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

"I mean . . . do you really think . . . shouldn't we be heading back?"

"We've still got a whole hour before we have to rejoin the group. C'mon!"

"But it doesn't even look like anyone lives here," Samantha protested.

"So, no one will mind if we poke around a bit. Let's go!"

"I don't think this is a good idea," Samantha said. Tabbitha sighed.

"Why not? If someone sees us, we'll just tell them we got lost or something. But I don't think anyone's gonna see us. This place looks abandoned."

"Did you ever think that there might be a reason why it's abandoned?" Samantha pointed out.

"Of course!" Tabbitha said. "That's the whole point! This is what Halloween's all about: going out and getting the crap scared out of you!"

"Well, that's probably why I don't like Halloween," Samantha said. "You couldn't have shown this to . . . I don't know, Susan or Libby?"

"I could have. But I chose you. Now, let's go! If it gets too scary, we can always turn around and leave, right?" Samantha hesitated a moment longer.

"All right," she said, resigned. "Let's go." She followed Tabbitha, reluctantly, to the house.

And that, really, is how it all began.

***

Jerome awoke with a start. It had been a long time since he had awoken at all . . . and even longer since he had awoken with a start. He stood up slowly, not used to using his body for anything other than sleeping. Sleeping was the easiest way to ignore the boredom of immortality. Had his wife still been alive, he would have used another method . . . but she was not. Jerome shook his head to clear the memory. He had not meant to think about his wife.

The house seemed to have settled again. His study was a bit smaller than it had been when he had last been awake, but that wasn't too unusual. There was a window this time, though it was so covered with dust, it hardly seemed worth the effort to look out of it. But Jerome tried anyway. Something had awoken him, and he wasn't going to be able to sleep again until he found out what it was. He brushed away the thick layer of dust, and it came away as though it had merely been a thin rug that had blocked the window. He peered out.

They were by the road, in a modern looking town. The cars driving by looked much sleeker than the ones he remembered. They were in the future, but not too far. From the half-bare trees and leaf-carpeted ground, he could tell it was a mid-western autumn. Every so often, Jerome would see a child wander by, dressed in a strange costume, trying to resemble stereotypical representations of witches, vampires, or something even less recognizable. Jerome smiled. Trick or treat night. He remembered it well. He and his brother had always deemed it their favorite time of year. Jerome winced inwardly. He had not meant to think about his brother either.

But what woke me up? There was nothing out of the ordinary here . . . although there were quite a few children roaming about. Perhaps two of them . . . no, it was a false hope. He would only wind up twice as disappointed as before.

Jerome walked over to the door, and gave it a try. It was still locked, sure enough. Whatever Jasper had done to keep him in this room, he had done it effectively. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. There didn't seem to be anyone there.
The man listened further, using his telepathy. He hadn't used it for centuries, because the only two live minds in the house besides his own were in such turmoil that trying to reach out to them was a waste of time, and it was usually a very painful experience. He could sense the mind of Molly if he really tried, but that was just as painful. There had simply been no use for his magic.

But wait . . . there was something. Was it a clear, sane mind? Surely not . . . perhaps his magic was malfunctioning. But maybe, just maybe . . . But how could that be? The doors were sealed. It just couldn't be . . .

Jerome pursued the mind, hardly daring to hope. Yes, there was definitely something there. Two somethings, in fact. Were they young? Yes, very young. Maybe . . .
Jerome rushed again for the door, forgetting that was still locked. He cursed himself and the man who had locked him here. Then he calmed, sat down, and reached out with his mind. He could discover these children physically, but he could discover them mentally. He closed his eyes, and concentrated . . .

***

Lily suffered a lucid moment. Lucid moments didn't come often for Lily anymore. In fact, she hadn't suffered one for quite a while. How long was hard to say; time had no real meaning in the house, especially for an immortal. But the house had shifted many times since the last time Lily had felt sane.

The girl glanced around. She was in the main dining room. She heard muttering from the kitchen . . . Jasper. Jasper had gone crazy before Lily had. Jasper hadn't had a lucid moment since Jenny's death. It was Jerome that had done Lily in. As all of her friends and mentors died around her, young Lily had remained firm. Then Jasper went mad and locked Jerome away in his study. The crazy Jasper was Lily's only company . . . and Lily had quietly gone mad herself.

The muttering stopped. Lily looked toward the kitchen. Had Jasper heard her? Did he know she was know longer the lethargic nothing she had just been?

The door was open. Jasper was a short man. At one time, he had been handsome with jet black hair. Now his hair was white, his face was gaunt, and his eyes were wide and shadowed. By the same token, Lily had once called herself beautiful, though she didn't imagine she looked that way now. Jasper stared at her. There was something different about him now. He seemed to actually be seeing her.

"J-Jasper?" Lily asked timidly, using her voice for the first time for what had probably been decades.

"Lily?" Jasper asked similarly. He unconsciously reached up and straightened his wild hair. That little motion removed all doubt that Jasper was sane again. They rushed into each other's arms. They just stood there for a moment, hugging, crying, trying to hold onto their newfound sanity.

Finally, Jasper stepped back. "Something must have happened. The curse is breaking."

"Is that why . . ?"

"I think so. But it won't last. The curse isn't the only thing that made us this way . . . there were other circumstances, and they will return." He began going through his clothes, searching for something in various pockets.

"I don't want to go back to being like that again," Lily said.

"Now that the curse is broken, we can be helped. But we can't do it alone . . . presumably, people will be entering the house. They'll need someone who still has his sanity . . . and who's still alive. Ah!" He pulled a small, silver key out of his shirt pocket and gave it to Lily. "Take this. Find Jerome's study and unlock it. He probably knows about the curse breaking as well."

"But I don't know where it is. It could be anywhere now."

"Then search! Try every door. Jerome must be released!" He took Lily into his arms. "This may be the last time I can say this as a sane man . . . I love you, Lily."

"I love you, Jasper." They kissed.

"Now, go! Quickly!" Lily took the key, and ran.

***

Molly. The ghost who had once been called Molly stirred. Molly, can you hear me? Strictly speaking, she couldn't hear anything. She had no ears, and the one talking had no voice. But she could sense the words, and she had been a ghost for so long, that feeling almost seemed the same as hearing.

Jerome. She thought back.

The curse is breaking. Do you feel it?

Yes.

I need you to help me. Can you watch for whoever enters the house?

Yes.

I know it means leaving Stephen . . .

That's all right. He's not going anywhere.

Thank you, Molly. The ghost drifted away from the stone statue that had once been her husband, and went off in search of those who had broken the curse.

***

Lily hurried, but her feet and legs weren't used to running. Or walking for that matter. In her previous state, Lily had mostly shuffled along, and sometimes could not even be bothered to hold her body upright. Plus, the rooms in the house were now so twisted, she began to wonder if she would even be able to find her way back. Every time she encountered a door with a lock, she tried the silver key in it . . . always with no luck. She began to doubt that Jerome was even still alive. Even if she did find the door, which seemed even less likely, she might find nothing more than a rotting pile of bones and flesh inside.

Already, the mad depression was returning. Lily tried to pick her feet up, but they felt numb and heavy. She forced herself to try the key on the door in front of her. Nothing. She kept walking. Her walk began to turn into a shuffle. No! she thought urgently. Not again! She focused on putting one foot in front of another. Her hand encountered another door. Nothing.

Suddenly, she was back in the kitchen; her route had wound back here. Jasper was writing frantically in a book, looking as though he was struggling with his sanity as well. He looked up.

"Did you find him?" he asked, struggling to maintain a calm tone. Lily tried to answer, or even shake her head, but couldn't be bothered to make the effort. "Lily? Lily! Stay with me! You must find Jerome! If you don't, we . . ." he stopped. His breathing was very erratic. Now it slowed. "Well, that was close," he said, calmly. "For the moment there, my sanity threatened to overtake me." He chuckled. His chuckle slowly turned into maniacal laughter, as he picked up the book he had been writing in and tossed it to the other side of the room. Lily barely noticed. She had slipped down to the floor, the energy she had used to stand taken from her.
Moving slowly, she took the silver key and slipped it into a pocket somewhere, before the last strands of her sanity drained away. Above her, Jasper laughed crazily . . . at nothing.

Things were back to normal.

***

"What's next?"