Necromancer Chronicles

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Chapter 12

My phone showed four in the morning. I closed my eyes and when I reopened them it was five. I turned over and closed my eyes again. When they opened again it was six. Then seven. Then eight. I was waking up every hour for some reason. My brain demanded I get out of bed, but my body wanted to rest. There was disregard my sore muscles and aching back. There was something deep within my subconscious pleading with me to wake up.

I thought I finally decided to get out of bed, but for another ten minutes I didn’t move. I was wishing myself to go back to sleep, but knew there was no use in fighting it. I sat up and moved to the edge of the bed in an attempt to motivate myself to take a shower.

There was a knock at my door and Madison’s voice called out, “Charlie, are you up yet? You want to hang out today?”

I didn’t respond. It was too early for the conversation we were destined to have. I had to tell her the truth eventually, but not right now. I could just talk to her. Let her know I would catch up to her later. Yet, I pretended to still be asleep, putting any kind of conversation off until later. I would get to it, but I would drag my feet in anticipation.

“Charlie?” She questioned in defeat. “Okay. See you later.” I heard the floor boards creak as she walked away feeling crushed.

When I was sure Madison was gone, I texted Diana, “bored. want to chill?”

Thirty seconds later she responded, “helping my dad. funeral tomorrow. bad burns on body’s face. why you bored?”

“want company?” I texted back.

“no thanx, but rain check.”


“prob not, maybe all nighter. why won’t you hang out with madison? she said you are avoiding her.”

“im hiding fact, im a necromancer,” I was going to type, but deleted it. “family stuff,” I texted back. “no worries. see you tomorrow?”

“of course. talk to your sister, charlie. she misses you.”

“i will. talk later.”


The burns must be pretty bad if Diana needed to help her dad with getting the body ready. With Diana’s help they would pull it off, but it would take the entire day and maybe night to make the burns magically disappear. After a thick layer of epoxy, clay, and cosmetics his face will be safe for the entire family to view without traumatizing any of them.

On Sunday mornings my grandmother made breakfast for all of the guests at the Sunnyledge. Afterwards she would go into town accompanied by my grandfather and plan the meals for the following week. It was a ritual my grandparents had taken part in for years. I could go with them, but I wanted to give them some alone time. Since I arrived at the Sunnyledge my grandmother had to pretend my grandfather’s spirit didn’t exist. Now that Madison new the truth, they could go back to their normal routines.

I wanted to try to break Laura out of the necromancer’s prison, but I needed help from Martin. My grandfather said there was a way for a necromancer to transfer power to a spirit, but failed to show me how. I could try it myself, but I had the feeling waiting for my grandfather would be a much better idea. There was always a chance the other necromancer would be there. I didn’t know if I even had a chance in a real fight.

I decided to just sit in bed and read for a while. I grabbed the the professor’s journal from the side table and sat against the bed’s back board. The morning sun provided enough light for me to see as I flipped through the ramblings of a mad man. T.C. Howell had kept a journal and over a hundred years ago went looking for proof to the existence to the after life. When I found it, the diary was just a novelty. It contained parts only I could read and therefore made me feel special. There were only a few more entries until he started to write in the strange language.

July 18, 1910

My colleagues in Pittsburgh laugh behind my back. I know they mock me, but this time I can finally laugh back. This time I am closer to the truth then ever before. The childish amateurs at the college cannot comprehend the true significance of my work. They would mock me for even whispering tales of the paranormal. To them the after life is only about religion and myth. Only the cultural anthropological implications mattered.

For years I’ve hidden my real passion from them. My love is hidden from them behind socially excepted cultural anthropology. Yet, I fear some suspect the truth to what I have hidden. Some know my search for the after life is more than rumor. There are whispers inside the cathedral’s walls. I believe, what I find will propel my research bringing me one step closer to my goal. Only then will I reveal my discovery and leave the shackles of academia behind.

After years of searching through testimonies of mad men, stories by the insane, sightings by the feeble minded, and the false rumors of poltergeists by the heretics in the church, I think I’ve finally found the proof I’ve been looking for.

After weeks of wondering the countryside I found a town deep within the mountains of West Virginia. The locals are hospitable, but only a few would speak of the local lore. Only after bribing was I able to get lips loosened to whisper the name.

The family, Kane, who live in a large house on top of the highest hill in Dumont holds what I am looking for. It is said a key to the spirit world will be found with the family. They hold the answers I seek. With Kane I will show the world.

Somehow the professor was led to Dumont to seek out my family. I put the journal down to do a search online for schools in Pittsburgh. At first two options popped up. One Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and another Pittsburgh, California. I checked California first. Only a couple of schools and none were around in the early 1900′s. When I search in Pennsylvania I was amazed at the number of schools there were in Pittsburgh. I checked Carnegie Mellon University, but didn’t come up with any leads. I did the same with Robert Morris, Carlow, Chatham, and Duquesne, all with no luck. I checked Point Park and even the community college without any hits. I brought up the University of Pittsburgh’s website last and did my search again. This time several results populated the page.

I clicked on the first link to the faculty page. The archive had every professor from the university since it opened in 1787. Among a column the name Theodore Claus Howell stood out along with 1905-1910. The initials matched and the journal was written in 1910, which meant shortly after T.C. Howell recorded these pages he stopped working for the university. I clicked back a page, and then clicked on the second link, but it ended in an error message.

The third sent me to the university’s library page with a list of publications. I scrolled down to the highlighted text and saw Theodore Claus Howell again, connecting to his paper, ‘The Cultural Implications of Dancing Rituals among the Native Population of Lower Americas.’ If the university found out about what he was really up too, they would have cut his funding without any hesitation.

Howell went on about his hatred of the university’s board of directors. He ranted on, page after page, about the board’s incompetence and punctuated the degree of loathing when he hinted at the chairman’s supposed “sexual exploits with penguins.” It was more than obvious that Howell did not like the men he worked with.

July 24, 1910

Today, I made contact! I have seen the specter with my own eyes. My search has finally produced substantial results. I have discovered life exists after death. The specter has shown me my life’s work will be awarded.

Communing with the specter is like nothing I could prepare for. If my eyes were not enough proof I was able hear and talk to her as well. The specter’s name is, Lilly. She died at the age of ten of tuberculosis in 1887. I have seen the spirit with my own eyes. I have heard it with my own ears. I have studied it closely. It is void of any other color except vibrant shades of blue. The specter casts no shadow even though I could plainly see my own. It is truly a sight to behold.

There were several more pages about the appearance of the spirit. He described the chill he felt when she past through him. The next entry wasn’t in English, but the odd script I could somehow read. I could translate the complex language as if I had always known how. The fluidity of translation felt normal, like I could always translate the words.

July 27, 1910

I woke up with knowledge of an ancient language that has no name. How it had been placed inside my mind, I haven’t the faintest idea. I know it is very old, a language that has never been used by the living. Somehow, I had the ability to read and write in this strange alphabet without the faintest idea how.

I know the language is voiceless, used among the spirits, and the keepers of souls. The language is older than any other form of communication in existence. I am still uncertain how I know any of this, but can only conclude interacting with the specter had a part to play.

Over a period of mere hours this wonderful language was solidified in my mind. I’m grateful for the knowledge, but do not know who to truly thank. I will write the rest of my journal in the nameless language, as a small exercise in my ability. I will name this language, Necrovul, or more literally, ‘words from the dead.’

“Charlie, what are you reading,” I looked up and realized Martin was sitting on the chair opposite, trying to read the cover of the journal. Not sitting exactly, but as close as a ghost could get.

“That looks like an antique,” my grandfather said. “Hold it up for me will you? I want to see it clearly.”

I did as my grandfather asked. “How was town?” I asked as he examined the book. “Did you have a good time?” He seemed satisfied and I lowered the book.

“It’s nice to see friends even if they can’t see you,” my grandfather explained while he leaned back. “I love Dumont in the winter. The used to love walking through the snow. I could listen to the crunching sound forever.” Martin looked back the book. “Where did you find that?”

“In the attic. Found it in an old ratty briefcase. Does it look familiar?”

“I’ve never seen it before.” my grandfather said as he examined the book a second time. “You say you found this in the attic?”

“When I was up there with Madison and Diana. It fell out of a briefcase when Madison knocked over a pile of stuff. Is it okay I’m looking at it?”

“Of course, Charlie,” my grandfather said. “Anything up in that attic is yours.”

“Have you ever seen this language?” I asked as I turned the book to face him.” I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find anything to compare it to.”

Martin studied the pages I held up, but shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he replied. “Looks like gibberish.”

“I don’t know how I’m doing it, but I’m translating it using my powers. Somehow I am using the blue energy to do it.”

“You can’t see it?” I asked. “I would have thought because you were a spirit you would be able to read it.”

“Doesn’t look like it. Does the language have a name?” My grandfather asked.

“The professor named it, Necrovul. Ever hear of it? He called it the language of the dead. Is it like an ancient necromancer language?”

“If it is I’ve never heard of it, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it doesn’t exist. Take a look and let me know if it’s worth my time. I trust your judgement. In the meantime want to practice your reanimating skills?”

I snapped the book shut and set it aside. I was excited to reanimate something else. I was getting used to the idea of bringing dead animals back to life. Reanimation didn’t gross me out nearly as much as it did at first.

After parking the truck, I followed my grandfather to a small church off the main road. Behind the church was a large cemetery that went on for what seemed like miles. Impressive granite mausoleums were sprinkled through out the rolling hills. Marble angels wept at the feet of magnificent stone markers. At first I thought I would have to reanimate a person, but remembered the golden rule. No raising nefari.

“Why are we in a grave yard?” I asked as I followed Martin behind the church to a separate gated area. The tombstones were slightly smaller than the others in the main area. As I read the names, ‘Mellow,’ ‘Luna,’ ‘Misty,’ and ‘Snuggles,’ I realized this section was reserved for animals. It was a real pet cemetery. I was standing in a real pet cemetery. At that moment I wished Madison was sharing this with me. She would have loved a pet cemetery. She went crazy for Stephen King and ‘Pet Cemetery’ was one of her favorites.

Martin floated to a tiny head stone marking a freshly filled plot. Carved in block letters on the front of the tombstone was, ‘R.I.P. Ms. Nibbles.’ The plot was only a quarter size of a person’s. It occurred to me that the size of the animal did not diminish that pet’s emotional value to its owner.

“Let’s see if you can get Ms. Nibbles to climb up and play,” my grandfather joked.

“What do you think Ms. Nibbles is?” I asked as I got in position closer to the grave.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” my grandfather said in response. “That’s half the fun.”

Martin wanted me to reanimate whatever was down in this grave. I knew my odds were really good it was a handful of animals. I was hoping Ms. Nibbles wasn’t some kind of snake. I didn’t like snakes. They creeped me out because they didn’t have legs. I didn’t like the way they slithered around, no way of knowing where they were going.

I sent my will down into the dirt to search for Ms. Nibbles. I was surprised when I found her closer to the surface than I expected.I focused on the animal as my power coursed through its flesh. I could tell it was a small house cat and was instantly grateful I didn’t have to reanimate a dog yet. I was more sentimental when it came to dogs. I needed more time to acclimate to the idea.

I stood over the cat’s grave and realized it would be a challenge to reanimate. The cat had more mass to take hold of than the mouse. If I was going to reanimate something that big I needed to increase the amount of energy I was using. I struggled at first to expand my power, but as I relaxed the necromantic energy became easier to manipulate.

I could feel my will pulsate through the cat’s dead flesh, powering it on like a computer. I tested the legs first, making sure they worked properly. I felt three legs move under my control but for some reason I couldn’t move the forth. It didn’t respond to my will, yet I was certain it was there.

I could move the cat’s muscles with my mind and its three legs started to dig their way through the dirt. I felt it’s paws claw through the earth a inch at a time. I could make the cat climb, but my hold slipped when I lost my focus. I had to figure out how to keep it animated without my constant attention.

The Dumont Baptist Church had an odd collection of animals. Twice a year a carnival came through Dumont with a dozen or so acts, which included exotic animals from around the world. For some reason, that no one could figure out, the animals that traveled with the carnival died more often than they did in any other town they had performed in. They tended to set up along the outskirts of town near the church. They would leave the animals behind unfortunate enough to die from an injury or infection. For years the church made it their mission to bury the animals left behind.

“Been years since the carnival came back,” my grandfather explained. “They passed through our small town enough times to know better, I guess. You know the last time they were here they left a lion behind.”

“A lion?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’m still trying to figure out this cat,” I admitted.

“Charlie, if you concentrate you can read the cat’s mind. It will give you an empathy towards the animal you wouldn’t get when reanimating nefari. Concentrate on how this feline died.”

While I concentrated on making the cat climb to the surface I focused on the cat’s mind. A sudden series of images flashed through my thoughts. The images were clear but distorted. My perspective was low to the ground and the rest of the world was gigantic. It’s mind was simple, but more complex than the mouse. I knew what everything was, but the cat didn’t have names for things. There were no labels or putting objects into categories. There was no judgement in the cat’s world. No bias against anything except for where it obtained food and what it feared.

“It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t put it into words.”

“This isn’t a human being, Charlie. It won’t have the same way of thinking as we do. Your prospective will be different. Your understanding of language will not help you. Words will not help you. You won’t be able to navigate it with words. Move forward to what you want. Just focus on where you want to go. Try to concentrate on the one moment you want and shuffle though the memories.”

I focused on the cat’s mind and tried to dive into its last moments of life. My world view changed to compensate for the size. I became an overly confident house cat in the prime of her life. I was chasing my shadow hoping I could stop its continued attachment. I tried to outrun it, but the shadow followed me out to the street. I heard a noise in the distance, but had no reason to fear it. I jumped away from my doppelgänger but a predator caught me off guard. The last image of the cat’s memory was of a car tire crushing it.

“A car,” I said while I took a deep breath and refocused all of my attention on getting the cat out of the hole. I hadn’t been prepared for the helplessness I felt. I watched as the cat broke through the surface and popped its head out of the ground.

“What are you doing up here, Charlie?”

I turned in surprise and almost lost my balance when I saw my little sister standing behind me. She caught me off guard and I was already guilty I didn’t tell Madison the truth in the first place. I didn’t want her to find out like this, but I felt like she caught me red handed.

“Madison, you scared the crap out of me,” I said as my heart tried to return to a normal rhythm. “Do you have any idea how mean it is to surprise someone like that?”

“I’m dead and even I jumped,” my grandfather said jokingly.

“I heard you talking to someone,” Madison said. “Who’s up here with you?” She looked around, but wouldn’t see Martin. She didn’t possess any of the powers I inherited from my father and would think I was crazy.

I looked at my sister for the first time and was surprised by her appearance. She was disheveled and crying. Her eyes were red and puffy around her cheek bones. She was sad, that much I realized.

“Are you okay,” I said as I embraced my sister. “What happened to you?” I was still upset at her for creeping up on me, but I felt guilty for snapping at her. She was obviously having a bad day. The least I could do was to take care of her.

I should have told her already, but how did I explain my new life to anyone? My mother had said it. I wouldn’t believe unless I saw it for myself. She wouldn’t believe me if I just told her. I had to prove I was telling the truth.

Madison stomped her foot, getting my attention. “Why are you being so sketchy?” she yelled. “I came here to hang out with you. I wanted to spend time with my brother, who I’ve barely seen for the last two years. This is what you would rather be doing than spending time with me? You’re in a cemetery in the middle of the day playing some kind of weird role playing game. I don’t see anyone else besides you so that means you are still mentally ill. I’ve caught you so many times talking to yourself, Charlie. I am so worried about you.”

I felt the cat rub against me as it crawled out of its grave. I was still inhabiting the cat with my energy. It had clawed its way to the surface somehow on auto pilot. I was already getting stronger and here was the proof. I pulled my will away from the cat hoping my sister hadn’t seen it.

After a pause my sister gasped. Then she let out a high pitched supersonic scream a dog would howl at. I covered my ears at the shear pain. It’s pitch higher than the human ear was ever supposed to be subjected to.

“Charlie, what the hell is that?” Madison loudly questioned from behind a small tombstone she was using to shield her.

“It’s a cat,” I said, “A dead cat.”

“Why did a dead cat crawl out of that hole?” My sister shot back. “Dead cats don’t just jump out of the ground like in some crazy Stephen King novel.”

I was trying to think of a really good lie, but wondered if lying was the answer anymore. I needed to tell her the truth and this was as good a time as any.

“Madison, I need to tell you something. I’ve been hiding something from you. Since I got here.” I paused. “Sorry, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Oh my god, are you going to come out to me? Are you secretly gay? I would love it if you were gay. I always wanted a gay friend.”

“No, that’s not it. Why do you think I’m coming out to you?” I asked, not sure why she had thought that. “How do I explain this? When I came to Dumont I was kind of broken.” Madison nodded in agreement. “There was a reason the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me. There was a reason they thought it was all in my head. They could never see it. I found out what was really wrong with me. It turned out the headaches were being caused by a buildup of necromantic energy. My dad put a mental spike in my brain when I was a baby to block my powers. When I came to Dumont, my grandfather fixed me.”

“Energy? Mental spikes! Charlie, you’re sounding like a loon, do you know that? Your grandfather is dead.”

“You’re loosing her,” Martin warned me. “Get to the point.”

“Sorry, I didn’t really prepare for this,” I said to Martin.

“Who are you talking to?” She yelled.

“I’m a necromancer, Madison” I finally shouted.

“Oh my god, Charlie! I don’t want to know anything about your sex life. That’s really gross,” My sister started to back away.

“What are you talking about? That’s necrophilia and get your head out of the gutter.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I said necromancer, necro-mancer. I can talk to ghosts.” I pointed to the cat. “And reanimate dead things.”

Madison stared back at me with a blank face. If anything I thought she was going to laugh at me. Instead her eyes squinted and I thought she was about to cry.

“Ghosts aren’t real, Charlie.” She yelled really upset. “I promised mom I would keep an eye on you. It is not okay for you to go crazy like this.” She threw her arms up in the air. Her voice raised an octave and she took a deep breath. “I thought you were getting better,” she continued to cry.

I realized something else was bothering my sister. Normally, death was right up her alley, but there was something not right. Why was she out here alone? I realized she wouldn’t have followed me. Where were her friends? Where was Sara?

“Madison, why are you out here alone?”

“Charlie, I’m calling mom,” she said as she looked for her phone, until she remembered she lost it. “Well, I will call mom as soon as I find my phone. I can’t believe you’ve been running around this town all this time like this. Has Diana seen you like this? I bet she would flip.”

“I really don’t think we have time for this,” my grandfather impatiently commented before he floated toward my sister. While he moved through the air he began to get darker. The brilliant blue faded to a duller shade of grey. My sister’s face lost all of its color and her mouth fell open. I knew then that my sister could see Martin.

“Perks of being a necromantic spirit,” my grandfather declared. “Hello, Madison. You’ve grown a tad pale. Are you all right dear?”

“Madison, this is my grandfather, Martin.”

“I don’t get it,” my sister said in disbelief. “This can’t be real. I’m still lost in the grave yard. I’m out there past out on the grass.” She backed away from Martin, and started to speed away in the opposite direction. She didn’t get far when she collided straight into a tree just outside her blind spot. Her body bounced off the trunk and landed with a thud on the hard earth. She held her forehead and began to cry.

I knew my sister was surprised, but this wasn’t just about me. She was upset about something else. The last time I saw her this upset was when her father first left for China. She was a wreck over it for months.

“Charlie, let me talk to her,” Martin said hoping to defuse the situation. “I’ve seen many people over the years react like this.”

“She’s upset about something else,” I whispered to Martin, “Let me help her.” My grandfather was about to argue, but changed his mind and nodded in agreement. I knew he had more experience telling people about our secret, but this was something else. It didn’t help that I botched telling her the secret. I walked over to Madison and squatted down next to her. There was a small knot on her temple, but it hadn’t broken the surface. “We should get some ice on that,” I said breaking the silence. At the back of her head she was bleeding, but I knew she didn’t get that from the tree. “Maddie, what happened?”

“Don’t call me Maddie, anymore. You don’t get to call me that.” My sister was shaking her head in disbelief. “Was that real?”

She avoided my question so I dropped the subject. I nodded, “It is. It’s pretty cool really, once you get over the shock of there being an after life co-existing with our own.”

Madison stood up and advanced slowly to Martin’s floating form in amazement. I knew it was changing her whole world, like it changed mine the instant the truth was revealed. “I knew you were keeping a secret, but I never imagined it was this.”

“Pretty, mind blowing, right?”

My sister nodded in agreement and said, “Just so you know, I wasn’t following you. I came here with Sara and the guys. We paired off. I was with Stan, but he left me here after I wouldn’t...” she trailed off. She didn’t have to finish that sentence. I knew what she meant. “They bailed on me. I don’t even know how long I’ve been out here. I’ve been wondering around all day I think.”

“Did he do that to you?” I gestured to the back of her head. When she nodded I pulled her into my arms again. She rested her head against my chest as she let herself cry.

“I’m sorry,” I said and kissed her forehead.

“I’m fine,” my sister replied and rubbed her eyes. “Really, I’ll be fine. I thought I knew who my friends were. Now I know better.” She changed the subject when she pointed to Martin. “How are you doing this?”

“It’s necromancy,” I spit out ready to reveal my secret. “I can talk to ghosts, Madison. Martin isn’t the only one. They are everywhere. There’s actually life after death and here is the proof. Not only that, but I can reanimate dead things.” I smiled hopping she would relax. “I can make zombies, Madison. You love Zombies,” I beamed.

“Nefari,” Martin corrected me. “But only animals, never humans.”

“All right, if you are a naked dancer…” my sister started.

“Necromancer,” I corrected.

“Sorry,” My sister said sincerely, “If you really are a necromancer you better prove it soon, because in five minutes if I don’t see a zombie cat I’m going to call mom. I believe the ghost thing, but that doesn’t mean I believe you have special powers.” She turned to my grandfather, “No offense, Martin.”

“None taken,” he answered, seemingly having fun at my sister’s demands.

“First off, mom knows,” I explained to my sister. “Apparently, she keeps secrets from both of us. Second, I’m only allowed to reanimate animals. I’m still working on reanimating this cat that crawled up and scared the bejebus out of you. I’m still fairly new to all of this. Before the cat I reanimated a mouse back at the Sunnyledge.”

“Diana said she saw a mouse flying down the stairs,” Madison said in amazement. “That was you?”

“It was,” I answered.

“Let’s see it then. Put your money where your mouth is.”

She was goading me into using my abilities in front of her and seeing Martin wasn’t enough. She still thought I might be full of shit. I needed to prove myself if Madison was going accept it all.

“Okay, I’ll show you, but don’t freak out,” I said as I started to collect my power.

“I’m not going to freak out,” my sister said unsure if she really believed that. I wasn’t going to argue with her. If she wanted me to prove I was a necromancer I was going to do just that. I wouldn’t keep anything else from Madison ever again.

It was more of a natural progression than before. This time when I reanimated the cat I didn’t have to try as hard. I pulled Ms. Nibbles up on her three good legs and started to trot around Madison. The forth leg trailed limply behind, clearly broken at the thigh, while the cat circled around my sister.

I wanted her to see it completely for what it was. I made the cat sit at Madison’s feet. At first she was grossed out at the cat’s corpse, but seemed to warm up as she learned to appreciate my ability.

She tried to pet the cat, but thought twice when she saw a chunk of fur left on her boot. “I knew you were hiding something,” she said as she kicked the clump of hair away. “I just thought you were sneaking away with Billy to get drunk. Or with Diana to you know...” She trailed off, but added, “This is so cool, Charlie.”

“I’m still not sure what to make of it, but yeah it’s pretty cool.”

My little sister was being more supportive than I thought possible. I thought it would take her some time to come around, but this was amazing. Then, for the first time I noticed an odor. I paused and smelled the air. Madison reeked of alcohol.

“Were you drinking?”

“Is that really important right now?” She responded. “You’ve been keeping ghosts and zombies from me. That’s what is important.”

She wasn’t scared of my abilities, but that could just be the booze talking. On the other hand I knew she would get excited over zombies. Either way in the back of my mind I knew no one else would be as easy to tell. I would still need to be careful about who I told in the future.

I made Madison promise me she would keep my secret. “No one else would understand if they found out,” I explained to her. “They’ll come and take me away. I’ll be dissected like a rabbit if this gets out. You promise you won’t say anything?” I was serious, and somewhat over dramatic. I could tell she understood the severity of the situation.

“I’ll keep your secret safe, Charlie, I promise,” my sister said, then added, “This is so cool.”

I felt like there was a weight lifted off my shoulders. The stress of lying to Madison for this long had taken a toll and I was just realizing it. I was happy our relationship couldn’t be jeopardized by the lie any longer.

I made the cat do a couple of tricks and then let it crawl back into it’s grave. I covered the hole with dirt and patted it down. When I was done, my sister asked if I could help find her phone, which she says she left behind in one of the mausoleums.

While we looked for her phone she told me what had happened with Stan. I didn’t want to over react, but I got really upset. It made me want to lash out at Stan. Madison didn’t want me to do anything, besides help her find her phone. She made me promise not to interfere. I wasn’t happy about it, but I promised I would keep her secret and she promised she would keep mine.

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