Evading Consequence

Where It All Began

Linda didn’t tell Janice who she was planning to visit, only that she needed a quick lift to Elmont. Though Janice needed to pick up her friends in Elmhurst, she agreed to give Linda a ride since it was still relatively early and the destination wasn't far from the Jamaica area. When they pulled up to the address they were both surprised to see it had been condemned. Much to Janice’s disapproval, Linda approached the abandoned residence.

 “Girl, these are not the thrills I’m looking for,” Janice shouted from the window. “I’m staying in the car. Don’t think I won’t leave you here. You got like five minutes before I bounce.”

Linda stood before the splintering plywood gate which was secured with a rusty latch and broken lock. She peeked through a hole in one of the panels. The structure she saw, or rather what was left of it, was a gutted remnant of the house she saw in both her online search and hazy memory. The strange porch lantern still remained intact, though the structure had been brutalized by time and circumstance. The crumbling stucco exterior was etched with billowing black clouds. It seemed as though the fire was still raging within the gutted building as the October sun blazed through the blown out windows that hadn’t been boarded up. The cold wind shuffled the fallen gold and amber leaves across the concrete and shook fresh ones from the sparse dark trees as they swayed.

A flickering flame danced in the corner of her eye. It was coming from the porch light. Just as it had that night, it seemed to glare at her. Violent barking ripped through her ears. She recoiled and did a 180 to face the origin of the sound, all the while bracing for an attack.

“Chill, half-pint. What I tell you ‘bout barking at everyone?” The stern voice came from a young man. He flashed a quick smile and introduced himself as Jeff. “Sorry he scared you. He’s really a big wimp, but likes to show off.”

Linda composed herself as she toggled her attention from the stranger, to the culprit of her unwarranted fear; a small bulldog.

“For a half-pint, he’s got a big bark,” she replied, taking a moment to flash a three-finger signal to Janice to let the stranger know she wasn’t alone. Her friend gave a timid wave in return as she chatted on her cell phone. She seemed to be in the middle of a tense conversation.

“Shopping for real estate?” Jeff asked, nodding toward the building. “If so, you could probably tell this place needs some serious TLC.”

“The front light seems to be working. That’s a start. Actually, I’m not—”

“Must’ve been the sun in your eyes, sis,” Jeff interrupted as he peered through the fence. “Unless someone’s trespassing, ain’t no way that thing lit up.”

Linda leaned forward to double check her original assessment. The lamp was now dormant. Maybe it always had been.

“You live around here?” she asked.

“Just up the block on the corner. It’s not much, but it’s a decent enough place for me and my fiancé to lay our heads at night.” He gently tugged the dog’s leash to guide him away from Linda’s feet, which he’d been sniffing the whole time. Linda noticed that much of the skin on Jeff’s right hand was puckered and dark with a mild sheen.

Linda asked if he knew anything about the residents of the burnt-out house before them. He hung his head slightly and nodded. He described a middle aged woman, named Geraldine, who lived on the property with her daughter Margaret and two dogs and that she operated a home business selling scented candles.

“Such a nice lady. Shame what happened. One fallen candle caused so much tragedy. I was able to get to my fiancé, but not to Geraldine. If only I locked the back door behind me.”

Jeff’s regretful demeanor and the scar on his arm were beginning to make sense. A broader picture formed in Linda’s head; a dying dog staggering into an open door, knocking over a candle and unleashing hell on the poor residents.

A woman approached and hooked her arm around Jeff’s. He introduced her as his fiancé, Margaret. The makeup she wore did a fair job at covering the burns on her face, though the variance in texture was still distinguishable. Margaret was visibly uncomfortable with standing before the property and requested that her husband escort her home. Linda didn’t want to be intrusive, but wanted her questions answered. And so, she walked along with them as she delicately made her inquiries. The blaring of a horn broke interrupted the discussion. Linda motioned for her friend to be patient as she explained her situation to the couple.

“When the offender and victim both refuse to face and let go of their past, they become imprisoned by it,” Margaret explained. “My mother knew that as well as anyone, but yet she’s stuck in that house, reliving what happened all those years ago. If there is such a curse, it can probably be broken if the offender sincerely owns up to what they did. But it has to be genuine, or else things will only get worse.”

“How?”

“The more the past is denied, the stronger consequence will become, eventually eating away at those who deny the truth until there’s nothing left.”

“How do you know all this, about the curse?”

“Because the moment I realized I couldn’t get my mother out of that house, I unknowingly uttered the curse. I was angry. I wanted revenge. Now, I just want peace since grudges are so damn exhausting.”

“If you started the curse, why can’t you break it?” Linda wondered aloud.

“Because it’s drawing power from denial. That, I can’t control. The only thing that can possibly break it is genuine remorse, but it has to be expressed in there.” Margaret pointed to the abandoned structure.

Figures, Linda thought.

“So, was it you who sent the notes?” she asked.

“Every month since the fire,” Margaret nodded, mentioning it was the only way she could think of to send a warning while setting in motion the events that could break the curse she had conjured. This puzzled Linda since of the seven years of notes, she had only received about half a year’s worth.

Linda asked if the couple would accompany her to the house, but they immediately declined, stating that the place held too many bad memories from that night. Linda understood, but dreaded going it alone. Still, she figured she had no other choice. She turned to walk away, but faced Margaret anew.

“And you’re sure the apology will work?”

“There’s no guarantee,” Margaret responded, “but what do you have to lose? It isn’t much of a life if you’re living in fear.”

With that, the couple wished her luck and walked hand-in-hand into the safety of their home, leaving her to her perilous adventure