Rekindled

Beatrice was driving back home after another long day at the office. However, it wasn’t just any other day. There was something special about it. It was to be a night of mischief, excitement, and magic. Halloween evening, and the children were already loose upon the streets, strutting in their costumes, ravenous for all sorts of candy. All along her neighborhood road, Beatrice couldn’t help but notice the decorations. The obligatory carved pumpkins were greeting passersby with ominous smiles, their fiery eyes all but fixed on them. Black bats and giant spiders hang from walls and the edges of roofs, intricate webs covering fences and porches. Beatrice had stopped caring much for Halloween after middle school, but she always made sure to do her part for the children. So, she would put up the decorations like everyone else, and make sure to have a substantial number of sugary treats handy on this day.

She finally reached her house and parked in the driveway. She checked her watch. Early enough, she thought. While crossing her front yard she paused in front of the makeshift ghost she had fashioned out of sticks and an old sheet. She shook her head in quiet disapproval and straightened the sticks. There you go, she thought, and admired her craftsmanship for a moment. The light breeze kept the sheet waving, giving life to the construct. She got in the house and turned on the lights. Looking at the small table next to the door, she glanced at the bowl resting on top of it, overflowing with candy bars. Relieved that the festive preparations were in order, she took a hot shower, changed into comfortable clothes, and started cooking dinner. It was roast pork with vegetables. She was almost done when the doorbell rang.

“Trick or treat?” she heard a choir of happy children’s voices shout.

“Just a moment, loves,” she shouted back while shoving the roasting pan back in the oven. She wiped her hands furiously on her flowery apron and rushed to answer the door. When she greeted her visitors with a wide smile, she saw four kids smiling back. A chubby boy dressed up like some superhero Beatrice couldn’t quite recognize, a shorter boy with braces and glasses dressed as a vampire, and two little girls dressed as twin ghosts with dark circles painted under their eyes and wearing matching torn-up dresses. “Wow. You guys all look awesome,” she said and produced the bowl of candy.

“Thank you,” the two girls said in unison and giggled.

“Huh, you’re not wearing a costume, lady,” the bespectacled vampire noted.

Beatrice looked at herself. She was wearing her apron over a set of sweatpants and had her hair tied up in a messy bun. I never did put on my hairband with the devil horns, she realized. “Well, of course I am dressed up. I’m a supposed to be a woman who’s struggling to keep up with work, household chores, and social life.”

The vampire boy gaped at her.

Beatrice cackled and waved the whole thing off. “I’m just being silly. Here’s your candy. Have fun and try not to eat it all in one sitting.” The kids thanked her again and started walking away as she was closing the door. Then something dark and blurry darted between her legs and vanished behind her before she could get a good look at it. “What the hell?” she mumbled and closed the door. She left the bowl of candy on the table and reached for a broom she used to keep near the door. It’s probably a cat. I got this. She walked down the hall and checked the kitchen first. There was no sign of the mysterious intruder. She entered the living room and switched on the lights. There she saw it. It was indeed a black cat with yellow eyes, sitting on top of the desk as if it owned it, staring at the mirror hanging from the wall. The cat was seemingly captivated by its own reflection and didn’t seem to pay Beatrice any mind.

“Here kitty,” Beatrice whispered in the softest tone she could muster. The cat was thoroughly indifferent, simply idling and lazily waving its tail left and right. “Here creepy kitty,” she tried once more. After getting no reaction, she decided to approach the cat with the broomstick still clenched in her palm. Step by step, she managed to reach the cat without disturbing it. At least it’s calm, she thought, and for lack of a better plan she touched it. When her fingers brushed against the silky black fur, she realized she had been holding her breath. At Beatrice’s touch, the cat was finally roused from its stupor and purred.

Beatrice sighed in relief and kept scratching the cat along its back and the top of its head, between the ears. You’re just lost and afraid, aren’t you? she wondered. The cat meowed loudly. Beatrice was startled by the sudden sound and lifted her gaze.When she got a glimpse of the mirror she froze. She was looking at herself, but at the same time she wasn’t. The reflection before her had her own appearance, her face, her green eyes, her crooked nose, her arms. It even shared her expression of confusion and horror as she saw herself wearing dark robes, having rotten teeth and blistering pale skin covered with tattoos of spiral patterns. When she raised the broom, she noticed it was made of wood and straw. She freaked out and threw it across the room with a scream. Then she stepped away from the mirror and looked back at herself. Everything appeared to be normal. She even ran her fingers all over her face to be sure.

The cat was still sitting there, looking at the mirror and every now and then glancing back at Beatrice. Okay. I should get some rest. Seeing things is not a good sign. She went to the kitchen, filled a glass from the tap and gulped down a mouthful. The water felt rather cold as it rushed down her throat. She shivered. Before she could lay the glass on the counter, she heard the water starting to bubble and saw that it was giving off steam. A fraction of a moment later she felt its warmth against her hand. The heat became too much to bear, and she let go of the glass with a cry. It shattered as it met the floor, spilling boiling water all over the kitchen tiles. Beatrice stepped back and looked at her hand. How? One minute I drink it and it’s too cold, then it boils in my hand? Am I losing my mind? She turned on the tap again and carefully tested the water temperature with her pinky finger. It was cold. She stood there with the water running for some time. It’s fine. Maybe there was something wrong with the pipes. I should check it out again later.

The room was starting to fill with the savory smell of the roast being cooked. I haven’t eaten all day. This must be it. She took the roasting pan out of the oven and set it down on the kitchen counter. Then she pulled a fork from a drawer and looked back at the roast. She shrieked at the sight of a bloated pie with big lumps moving around just underneath the crust. From within, squealing rats and writhing maggots burst forth and started crawling around, bringing with them the stench of sickness and decay. The odor coupled with the hideous sight made Beatrice retch. She wiped her mouth with a sleeve and when she looked up again, she saw that the room was lit by black candles. All the counters and tables were made of roughly hewn wood, there was a fireplace instead of an oven, while dried herbs and weeds hang from hooks on the walls. Instead of a fork, Beatrice was now holding a bloody butcher’s knife. No. No. Forget this. She ran back to the hallway and her hallucinations seemed to shimmer away.

The cat meowed again. Beatrice clenched her fists. That damn cat. She walked into the living room, determined to grab the unwelcome guest and throw it back outside. The cat was waiting for her, calmly perched upon the desk. This time it was looking straight at Beatrice. “I’m gonna kick you the hell out of my home, you hear me?” Beatrice shouted. It meowed back. Beatrice tried to grab it. The cat jumped away right at the last moment. And again. And again. Beatrice shrieked with anger. “I will get you. It’s been a long day and I’ve had enough.” She kept on trying to catch it, each fail making her more desperate and angrier. She almost had it then, her fingers closing around a bit of fur, but the cat managed to slip away with a twist of its body. It jumped on the couch and meowed. Beatrice felt her rage flaring. Then the couch burst into flames. She panicked as the fire started spreading around the cat. How? Why is this happening? The cat slowly moved away from the flames and approached Beatrice. It meowed. Beatrice felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“What is going on? What do you want from me?” she asked aloud. There was now smoke filling up the room, making her dizzy. The smell of leather burning seemed to light up memories long ago buried in her mind. She saw the terrible image of herself being tied to a pyre made of logs and sticks, the gaps filled with hay. She saw men bearing crosses and splashing her with holy water as a crowd of people gathered around her, cursing and spitting at her. She heard them calling her Beatrix, the devil’s whore, the slayer of men, the herald of the plague. She heard them denounce her, sentence her to suffer in hell, praying to the lord to burn away her sins as they burn away her body. And then she saw herself cursing them back. “You’ve no power to sentence me to burn,” Beatrice was whispering the words while watching her other self, the one in her memory, shouting them at the people. “You all pray to a deaf god and dream of heaven, but in your future you shall find only hell. There’s no devil, fools. There’s no need for one. Evil breeds within, and we’re all more terrible than any devil ever could be.” She saw the crowd cower in fear then, and her executioners lighting her pyre. But as she, or rather Beatrix, screamed in pain, she saw it among the crowd. Stalking under the villagers’ feet, unseen and unheard. With glistening yellow eyes that reflected the light of the flames, and a mischievously waving tail. And in those bright eyes a promise. A silent promise between companions.

Beatrice snapped out of the memory and found herself back into her home. She stumbled to her knees, unable to process what she had experienced. It defied all reason. It all felt like a dream that she finally remembered she had seen, after having forgotten it the moment she woke. Suddenly it was as though there were two souls inside her body, two different lives, two different morals coexisting in superposition for a brief moment in time. The cat meowed at her. She ignored it. The fire on the couch was still spreading. Beatrice raised a trembling arm towards it and wished it away. The flames flickered in objection but were indeed extinguished. The cat meowed again. Beatrice watched her hands, unable to stop thinking that something was missing. Too soft, too bare, too innocent. The cat meowed once more. Beatrice ignored it and burst into tears.Why did this evil come to me? Why must I suffer? The cat moved closer and meowed louder. Is this my fate? To become this wretched thing I keep seeing? The cat forcefully crawled its way into Beatrice’s lap and meowed. Beatrice felt an urge to strangle the cursed creature, but her hands refused to obey. Instead, she petted it and as she did so, she felt more confident and capable than she had ever felt before. As if suddenly she had found new purpose in life. Everything she had done up to this time somehow seemed pointless. How low must I fall now? How terrible must I become? she wondered. Only as much as I need to. The two personalities coalesced into one, the black hole devouring the shining star, both changed forever.Then came the familiar ring of the doorbell.

“Trick or treat?” she heard the merry voices of children ask.

She stood up, shook some dust off her clothes and took the cat in her arms. It pressed its head against her neck and purred. Beatrix started walking towards the front door. “Come Azazel, it looks like we have visitors.”