Curios

Eight months had passed since Robin had lost Malcolm. Eight months since she had seen him dragged back into a grave — his grave. Robin knew not how he had returned to the living, but she was determined to have her man back. The grave read:

“Malcolm Wood

Loving Husband

Killed by Grady Gang

1902 - 1935”

Her belly had grown much in the eight months, due for June 24th. A baby was on the way — the last gift Mal had given.

Robin was still trying to work. A third-trimester dance instructor doesn’t have the same level of balance, and stamina needed, and she was struggling. Mal had set up a fund for her in the case of his departure; she had kept the apartment, but it wouldn’t last forever. Her legs were strong, and still was able to slip into her favorite pair of practicing pants. She had let her hair grow long, it was a straight curtain down to the small of her back; clean, ebony strands dancing as she walked.

On her way to work she noticed a new store. Curiosity Killed the Cat. The store’s windows were filled with stones, and gems, sage, and tea. Mortars, pestles, blades, silver, necklaces, bracelets, but most importantly, books. Among the repository was literature such as, The Book of the Dead, Magick, Wicca, Tell my Horse, a story of Lazarus pamphlet. “Interesting.” she said aloud before continuing on to work.

Her rehearsal was productive, but she felt that her teaching was silenced by a chair. Her feet had swelled, and she had to sit and instruct from the seated constraint. The walk home was painful. Summer rain had begun, Robin’s heels felt wobbly as it was. Water-filled black clouds swarmed, and drops began to downpour from the sky. To escape the deluge she ducked into a store. As the door opened, a bell sounded. The ding was low, like a church bell’s call.

“Welcome in.” A feminine voice called from the back. It was the store from before. Skulls wrapped in silk, and satin. Taxidermied birds flew frozen in the air. Incense filled her nostrils, the pungent and smokey smells turning her pregnant stomach.

“Hello.” she responded.

A man came from behind the crowded closet of artifacts. His face was porcelain white, angular, and beautiful. Wavy, black hair was combed, and moussed back. The man’s smile wide, white, and brimming. “So glad you are out of that ghastly weather.” His British accent was particularly melodic. His shirt was vacant of any buttons above his sternum, and his pectorals were covered in a ivory wrap. “Is there anything in particular here that you would like — something you are searching for?”

“Unless you have something that can bring back the dead.”

“Hmm.” he said, lifting an elegant, pale finger to his chin. “Depends on how you want him back I suppose, deary.”

“I didn’t say a ‘him’.”

He looked at her coyly, up and down, seeing her belly. “Just guessing darling.”

“Well, you’re right.” she grumpily admitted.

“I know. I know a lot of things. Call me ‘Ann’.”

“Robin.”

“Ahh. You know, throughout mythos, birds are sacred creatures. Usually eagles, and falcons, crows, and doves. But robins no less so. They were closer to the gods, as they could travel between our world and the heavens. That is why angels always have wings… Unless they have been removed.” he winked at her.

“Fascinating.”

“Well my little bird. Tell me why this person should be allowed back into this land of the living.”

She scoffed.

“Humor me.” he smiled.

“Mal… Malcolm, was a good man. A good person not only to me, but those around him. He wasn’t perfect—”

“No one is.”

She smiled awkwardly, “He loved me, and I loved him. And I want him to be part of our baby’s life.”

“Many fathers never see their children.”

“And he was dragged away by this… thing.”

Ann’s eyes lit up. “Do tell.”

“Its silly.”

He waved his hand around his shop. “Is this not silly?” pointing at the curios. “It is silly now to many people, but before your time, this was everything. Magic was the answer.”

“We were in a graveyard last Halloween eve. Monsters and ghosts rose from the dirt and took him. They spoke his name. They pulled him down into a grave — his gave. With his name on it and everything. Before his screams he said something strange…”

“Which was?”

““I’m not going back.” that’s what he said.” she explained.

“Hmm.” he pondered again. His eyes closing, she could see the indent of his eyes whipping back and forth underneath the lid as if he were reading some text. Or something exceptionally fascinating was branded into the backs of his eyelids.

“Not every one should be allowed to come back.”

She tilted her head skeptically, “I’m sure that is true… I could move on. Have this baby alone… But I want him.”

Ann gestured toward her stomach, “May I?” He smiled his wide, toothy smile. And the rain stopped. “Come back tomorrow, we can talk about it, I’ll bring him back.”

“You’re lying.”

He smiled, “Maybe. Maybe you’re imagining things, maybe not.”

There was something oddly comforting about the stranger, confident, and at least someone who didn’t think her story was crazy. He flit about the room light as a feather. Robin turned and left.

She had a little spring in her step, though the reason was lost on her.

Arriving home, she hopped into the shower. The faucet made this sort of sickening shriek turning on and off. Cool water gliding down her breasts, belly, and buttocks, she tried to cool down from the day. Sweat, and swell, and chaffing had plagued her throughout the pregnancy. Her hair felt greasy and stiff until the bubbles and suds spilled down her. She wanted a bath, but her apartment didn’t have a tub, much to her dismay.

Robin dreamt of Malcolm that night. That he had come home late from work, forgot his keys and knocked on the door. She opened it, hugging him. Robin combing her fingers through his ebony and ruby hair. He lifted her with ease. Her baby belly pressed into his body. He kissed as a man starved of her. In her dreams, they made love.

She slept sound that night; Mal was close to her, at least in spirit. She heard the shower faucet start; her eyes shot open. There’s an intruder. She reached for the hammer she kept by her bed, her belly just barely poking out from under Mal’s old purple, Patagonia shirt, and a plain pair of underwear.

She sat on the stairs before silently sliding down one at a time. She rounded the corner, and there he was. Malcolm was standing there, bold as brass and shining. Draped in a brown towel, he stood in his birthday suit. I’m dreaming. He was all shiny and new.

“Darling! Last night was incredible!”

She stood agape. “That was a dream…”

“Yeah it was,” he winked at her. “How is our little one doing? I have been keeping an eye on you.”

“You have?”

“Oh yes… Hell is having to watch your loved ones go on without you. Wishing you could be there.”

“Hell?”

“Yeah… I always thought I was headed to ‘the good place’, but I must’ve done something wrong. Not sure what.”

“How are you back?” she shouted at home, pounding her small fists into his chests, the unanswered questions drew the breath from her lungs; she felt faint.”

“I don’t know!” he clutched at her hands and pulled her into a hug, one hand cradling her belly. “We can figure it out.”

“Get some clothes on and come with me.”

Dragging him, he waved at the neighbors and pedestrians on their walks. They would greet him like he had just come back from a long business trip. She pulled him to the shop that Robin had found Ann in.

The store’s Plexiglas door swung open. There was no bell. There was nothing. No books, or stone, or tchotchkes, not curios, or spices, or tea. “What the hell?”

“What love?”

“This was full… there were so many… things in this place A shadowy item sat in the middle of the vacant floor. About a foot tall, it was an elegant ebony figurine. An idol. Long legs, and a muscular torso and arms. At the top was a midnight black dog’s head draped in a pharaoh’s hood.. Under it sat two notes.

One for Robin:

“Keep this close. And you’re welcome. -A”

One for Malcolm:

“Ten years. Use it wisely. I shall keep an account for your next judgment. -A”

Beneath the couple, a sickening squelch sounded. A puddle formed below Robin’s feet, her sneakers were dripped with serosanguineous amniotic fluid. They’re baby was on the way.