The Raven Mocker

Sitting in the middle of a salt circle outlined by flickering candles, Mary held her breath. Magic binds the raven mocker to your family. It survives on the fear and wildness of your ancestor’s power. Control your magic and mind, Mary Williams, and you will be free, Uncle Eddie had told her. Mary bit her lip as her shoulders slumped. A strong wind rustled the leaves of the large pine tree that inhabited the courtyard of James White’s Fort. A cold chill down her spine made Mary shiver. This is ridiculous, she thought. I’m not a witch or clairvoyant or anything else. The only power I have is in my pen. A rumble of thunder caught the 28-year-old off guard. Lightning danced in the sunset sky.

Mary had no idea what she was doing. She had no spellbook, no scribbled notes- nothing. Mary cleared her throat. “Hello? Is anybody out there?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end. Louder thunder shook the pine tree- taunting her for her ignorance. Mary closed her eyes and tried to focus. Flashes of her Uncle Tom, Aunt Rose, and grandmother projected through her mind like an old family movie. Mary’s mind rattled before settling on the person she wished to communicate with the most. “Please, Uncle Tom. I need your help.” she said. Abruptly, a burst of wind made all of the candles go out with a single whoosh. The breaking of glass alerted Mary to the light in the Main House’s upstairs window. Did I leave the light on in there? She asked herself. And what the hell was that sound?

Mary stood and creeped toward the Main House. Her legs moved of their own accord- like she was being pulled by a string. The wooden stairs creaked as she made her way up. She was immediately able to identify the source of the mysterious sound. A small glass figurine had fallen off of the fireplace mantle and shattered. As she stepped closer to the object, Mary’s bones froze. A unicorn? Exactly like the one in the museum? She thought. A deep, raspy chuckle was heard from directly behind her. She swirled around and met the affectionate gaze of her great-uncle, Tennessee Williams. “Haha, Uncle Tom. A unicorn? Very funny.” Mary said, giggling nervously. The faint, ghostly visage of her great-uncle sighed and pinched his nose. “What unicorn, darling?”

Mary turned halfway to point out the broken glass figurine, but it was no longer there. “You tricked me?” she asked, moving to eye Uncle Tom skeptically. He chuckled again, but this time he lifted an airy cigar to his lips and took a big puff. “I’m assuming you aren’t the brightest in your immediate family, am I correct?” he asked. Mary scoffed, walking toward the fireplace and searching for the figurine. “It’s not there.” Tennessee stated flatly. Mary paled, but suppressed her rising fear by showing her great-uncle the middle finger. “I know that now, jackass. Are you going to be helpful or just play theatre?” she asked. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I see you have Rose’s dry and mischievous sense of humor. Yay me.” he stated, sitting on the edge of a nearby bed. Can ghosts even sit down? Mary thought. Tennessee narrowed his eyes as if he heard her. “I can hear you, darling. Loud and clear; whether I’m corporal or not. I have to say I’m impressed. Not many of our relatives can achieve such mastery with little to no knowledge or experience! Bravo!” he explained slowly, as if he were conversing with a toddler.

“So I am a witch?” Mary asked. Uncle Tom nodded, although he winced at the question. “It’s a White thing, apparently. I never knew much about our magic myself, because I really didn’t care. It never manifested for me in the same way it has for you and Rose.” he stated, taking another puff of his cigar. “So the hallucinations… the voices… Is all of that real? Not a part of our schizophrenia?” Lightning cracked as Uncle Tom barked a laugh. “Heavens, no! Rose was not schizophrenic- neither are you or Jason. Bipolar, yes. ADHD, absolutely. But none of you are crazy. Or were.” Tennessee said, his voice falling to a whisper by the end. He shook his head, as if arguing with his own demons, and stared at Mary. “We both know that isn’t why you called for me. What do you need, darling?”

Mary shifted her feet and twirled the ends of her hair. She swayed slightly as anxiety wrapped around her like a vine. Uncle Tom flinched and put a hand out to stop her. “Please,” he croaked, “Don’t do that. That’s what my Rose used to do.” Mary attempted to, but her anxiety continued to increase. “I can’t help it.” she admitted. “It helps me calm down when I’m nervous.” Uncle Tom reached for Mary’s hand and she took it without question. She couldn’t feel the embrace, but it was still a comfort. “You are too much alike. It’s almost painful.” he whispered, squeezing his niece’s hand. “You mean crippled by self-doubt, sexual trauma, and a world that will never understand us? I would have to agree.” Mary retorted. Uncle Tom winced again. He got up from the bed and began to pace the room. “What do you need, darling?” he repeated, finally stopping to look Mary in the eyes. They were blueish-green with a hint of gold around the irises- just like hers.

I don’t really know, Mary thought wildly. I just wanted to make sure you were there, to be honest. I’ve felt so alone and hopeless lately- like a body trapped underwater. Or writhing in a closed casket. Uncle Tom hummed, deep in thought. He took another puff of his cigar before saying, “That’s only because you’re scrutinizing the wrong person, love. Of course, Tennessee Williams had to be perfect and resilient and all these other things. I would have never survived my teenage years without those masks. But, you see, Mary, Tom Williams is a completely different person.” His eyes flashed as his face tightened. “Tom was everything you are. Scared and lonely… lost in whirlwinds of depression and mania that made my mind shatter. However, he was also kind, brave, loyal, and incredibly gifted. Just like you, darling.” he continued. Tears welled in Mary’s eyes. She hated her life- she hated herself and her family. She hated the dark legacy of addiction and mental illness that she couldn’t escape. She hated not understanding her true power.

“What makes you think you can’t escape it?” Tennessee asked. Mary jumped, startled. She forgot that he was a figment of her subconscious magic, which meant that he could read her like a book. Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s like the ocean. Sometimes the water is calm, but a tidal wave will always show up to beat you back down. To make you submit.” Tennessee remained silent for a few moments. When he spoke, his eyes shone with ghostly tears. “That is very true, my dear. Very true, indeed. It can feel like that. It has felt like that, for me. But do you want to know the secret?” he said, his eyes dancing with mischief. Wisps of cool air hit Mary’s cheek as Uncle Tom tried to cup his hand there. “We aren’t meant to control the ocean, my dear. It is wild and free- the way the Universe intended it to be. Prepare yourself for the harshest wave, and the others will feel only like bumps on the road. And while the ocean is calm- enjoy the feeling.”