Mated to a Human

☽ 4 ☾

Last night I had a nightmare about the thing I saw. Most memories of the dream faded in the few seconds it took me to open my eyes, but the instance of its piercing stare remains as clear as day; I can still see it.

The thing's gaze is so lively — it must be alive, but somehow that seems more terrifying than the beast being dead.

"Mia? Honey? The laminator sucking you in?"

I look up from the white tabletop machine. "Oh, no, just concentrating."

Mom smiles. "Alrighty. That the last bulletin photo coming out now?"

I nod and take the picture, stacking it with the others once the laminator spits it out. "I just have to trim them."

"Why don't I do that, and you take that box downstairs for me?" She points to the brown box Harvey dropped off the other day. "Walking down the steps with that big thing at my age makes me nervous."

"Your age? Mom, you're not old."

She pets my head as I pass her. "Aren't you just my favorite thing ever? Thanks, Babe. Careful on the last step — remember it's shorter than the others."

I squat and lift the unsealed box, opening one of the cardboard flaps and peeking inside; some of the stuff is gone, some is still there. Mom turns her back and starts trimming the laminated pictures, so I take the box into the short hallway off the Society's back room where there's a hole in the floor for a questionably old staircase. The stairs lead underneath the building, into its basement. There aren't any windows on this side of the basement, but there's a switch for a singular lightbulb fastened to the unfinished ceiling. I turn it on halfway down the stairs.

Despite the number of artifacts and papers and boxes in the museum basement, there isn't much to look at. Everything is sealed up, boxed away on metal shelves. I set the box on the folding table in the middle of two shelves where unsorted things go. The light from the one blub only reaches so far, creating an eerie shadowed tunnel between the rows of shelving and the brick wall.

It's been a few days since my strange encounter and talk with Abby, but all I've done is hide in my room with the windows covered, stroking Teddy like he's a therapy animal, doing school assignments, and calling in sick to the café. Mom asked me to come to the laboratory to help with Society Festival business, and I agreed only to stop her from asking what's up with me lately.

Black Lake was founded long ago, but it seems impossible for all of this stuff to have historical significance. I start to wonder if Marianne, the museum curator, has hoarding tendencies.

With no one watching, I impulsively open Harvey's box on the table and rummage through the antiques and artifacts left inside it; whatever was taken out must have been worthy of a display. There's a photo album, doctor's journals, and the bloodletting tools Mom showed me before.

"Mia?" I hear my mom call.

I surface from the basement, shut off the light, and return to the Society meeting room. My mom stands staring at her phone. "You won't believe who just got a hold of me. Harvey Norwood — who brought the box of stuff from Norwood House. He said he found the original Equinox Festival banner from 1954. Do you think you could swing by and pick it up on your way home?"

"From him? A-at Norwood House?" I question, my tongue tying.

"Yeah, from Norwood House."

"I can't." I improvise, "I have a quiz for school that's due at a specific time and—"

"Well, I guess I could make the time," she considers. "I'm going to be here until four, and then I have to stop by Vic's to get some timesheets, and he's a chatterbox, but after that... I wonder if Harvey would mind me coming at—"