Musings Read online

  Contents

  Musings

  Copyright

  Find out more

  Introduction

  Cassandra

  What We Left Behind

  Adverse Reactions

  Musings

  by

  S.E. Sasaki

  Oddoc Books

  Erin, Canada

  Copyright © 2016 by S.E. Sasaki

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

  For more information about the author and publisher, visit www.sesasaki.com

  Published by:

  Oddoc Books,

  P.O. Box 580,

  Erin, Ontario, Canada

  N0B 1T0

  Find out more about the author at

  www.sesasaki.com

  Introduction

  These three short stories are an offering to you, gentle reader, and represent my efforts at short story writing. My preference is to write long, complicated novels with many characters and more than one twisted plot line, so I do not possess a resumé comprised of a long list of published short stories. I do hope to accumulate more in the future. For now, the ones here have not been sent in to magazines or journals. They do not quite fit the standard genres: science fiction, fantasy, and horror but perhaps they fall somewhere in between. I hope you enjoy them!

  S.E. Sasaki September, 2016

  Cassandra

  Cassandra

  I warned them.

  A fetid reek of malevolence seeped in, like a low-lying fog, infiltrating the air in burgeoning waves, obfuscating and then obliterating the natural sweet, budding aromas of early spring. The foul odor gathered and grew, until it overwhelmed and engulfed our yard and home in a tsunami of nauseating putrescence. So sickening was the stench, that my initial instinct was to flee before this offensive assault on my olfactory organs. It caused my nose to burn and my eyes to sting, raining forth a deluge of tears. The horrible stench caused a mind-numbing paralysis in all of my limbs. I wanted to lie down and bury my face underground. With effort, I succeeded in finally awakening myself from panic-stricken immobility to suss out the source. On trembling legs, I forced myself to creep forward, all senses alert, looking and listening for the source of this stink of death.

  The sensation that something terribly evil was approaching, in an inescapable flood that would overwhelm everyone in its wake, drowned what meagre daring I may have possessed. Resolutely, I fought my fear, as I forced myself to peer out onto the street and at the walkway that led to our most precious home. To my bewilderment, nothing appeared amiss. As I stared out our front bay window at the odor-oblivious passersby, I could hear the commonplace and cacophonous symphony of lawn mowers, hedge clippers, weed whackers, and lawn sprinklers of all the energetic individuals, enacting their habitual Sunday routines in blissful ignorance. Everywhere was the usual hustle and bustle of people working hard to make their homes look more presentable than their neighbours.

  I examined the members of my family. No one else seemed discomfited. Everyone went about their business, comfortable and carefree and clueless. The fug that was so foul to me, that it was all I could do to keep from retching, was nonexistent to them. I wanted to scrub out my nostrils. The vileness was pervasive, coating me with its unbearable odour, and I could not tolerate it. I could not stop scrabbling at my nose.

  How could it be that no one but myself noticed it? It was more than revolting, this rotting stench, and it was gradually growing stronger. I imagined an enormous, slime-covered, gangrenous monster, shambling down the street towards us. Whatever was approaching, it could be no less than a disaster of unimaginable proportions. My miserable nose and my burning eyes told me so.

  “What is it, Cassie?” Helena asked—beautiful Helena of the elegant, long, golden tresses and the aristocratic features—with a voice of crystal clarity, recalling sweet birdsong, and a gentle disposition that seemed to attract all men. She was dressed in a cornflower blue dress of cotton and lace, the colour the exact match of her eyes, her hair tied back with a blue and white enamel clip.

  “What are you looking for?” Helena peered out the front window, looking left and right, seeing nothing untoward.

  I let her know, in no uncertain terms, my distress.

  “Come away from there, Cassie. Sit down,” she said. “You’re making me dizzy, watching you run back and forth, from window to screen door like that. You’re going to wear out the carpet!”

  Heed Helena, I could not. I was compelled to keep checking, on guard and alert against a terror I could not describe. It was too disgusting to imagine. Never before had I encountered such a reek. Had the entire inhabitants of the local cemetery climbed from their eternal rest, it parade down our street, I believe it would not have smelled so foul. Of what could I warn my loved ones, when they did not detect a thing?

  I let them know anyway, in increasing agitation and alarm, in incessant chatter and outcry. I told them, my beloved family, again and again. But no credit was given to my fearful concerns. Alas, listen they would not.

  They told me to hush. They ordered me to be silent. They held me and hugged me, attempting to allay my anxiety, unaware that their dismissal only heightened my concerns. Mother, Helena, Little Paris, even handsome Hector—all grown up and home from college— crowded about me, confusion on their faces, as they tried to calm me. Father just scowled at me and raised his hand to strike me.

  “Hiram,” Mother said sharply.

  Father lowered his hand.

  “Shut up,” he said to me, in a tone that brooked no dissension.

  I shut up, for the moment.

  But I continued to pace, glancing repeatedly out the front window, fearing whatever it was that was approaching.

  Evil incarnate.

  That was what it felt like.

  I began to pant, through my mouth. My heart beat staccato in my chest. I knew it was coming. The disgusting stench was getting stronger and stronger. I struggled with my panic.

  Why was Mother dressed in her Sunday best? Everyone was. Beautifully pressed dresses and perfume scented hair. Brilliant white shirts and dark silk ties. Subtle colognes and black shoe polish. Expectant smiles and polished silver. Relaxed and teasing laughter, all around. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen, a veritable feast in the making. The delectable Sunday dinner aromas tried unsuccessfully to wage war with the malodorous miasma, approaching like an impending storm. The scrumptious smells, that had always enraptured me in the past, were succumbing to the foul fetor, yet seemingly for my senses alone! Oh, how I writhed in wretchedness, unable to awaken my most adored family to the danger that was imminent! Oh please, bar the door!

  Something is coming!

  Whatever it was, it was now at the door. The stench was overwhelming and I raced forward, to block the entrance. Whoever it was, with this foul odour of rot and decay, could not be allowed access to this house. I was determined.

  Through the glass of the front screen door, I saw a tall, young man, astonishingly handsome in his midnight attire, though terribly pale, a broad, white-toothed grin on his clean-shaven face. He had smooth, ebony hair, combed back in a perfectly manicured coif. He smiled broadly at everyone, and though I stood in the way, Father beckoned him in.

  “Father Ulysses, welcome to our home! Happy Easter!” Father said in a booming voice, as he nudged me out of the way. He threw me a stern, reprim
anding glance.

  “Thank you, Mayor Prime,” the black clad figure answered, and stepped in the doorway.

  I howled my dismay.

  “No! You must not let this fiend inside this house! You know not what folly you commit, what perfidy you invite indoors! I forbid it!”

  Hector pulled me back out of the way.

  My entire beloved family looked at me with such shock and scorn, that my heart shattered. I quailed, while they all apologized to this abhorrent figure.

  Father ordered me away, until I could behave. Hector ushered me outside.

  “Cassie, calm down. What’s gotten into you?” bold and beautiful Hector asked, firstborn male and brilliant, away for the last few months studying law at university. Hector had always been so caring and kind to me, and I had missed him terribly. He gave me a reassuring hug.

  I told him of the danger. I warned him of the evil. I told him, in no uncertain terms, to eject this horrid monster from our house and to do it soon. Before anything horrible happened! Before it was too late! I could not stand still, while voicing my anxiety and my vehemence.

  Oh, how could they ignore me so?

  Hector just shook his head and smiled patronizingly.

  “Why don’t you just stay out here for a while, Cassie, until you calm down a bit. Okay? You need to cool off! Chill a little.” Then Hector turned and walked back inside the house.

  I slammed my shoulder against the closed back door in outrage and fury, caring not what my beloved family thought. I growled my frustration. I knew I was acting crazy, but what else could I do?

  I peered in through one of the back windows, to watch this visitor in black as best I could. I listened carefully to the conversation that wafted out through the open dining room window. The stranger’s stink made my head pound but I could not take my eyes off of him.

  He was asking Hector about school and everyone was laughing, listening to Hector relate one anecdote after another, about the shenanigans that went on at his college dormitory. I so wanted to listen in on this. I resolved to behave better, in order to keep careful watch on the malevolence amongst us, like the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing. I also did not want to miss out on all of the family stories. Better to be amongst my beloved flock, shepherding them as best I could from their naiveté and folly, than to be banished for bad behavior whilst a predator sat within their oblivious midst.

  Gentle, beautiful Helena poked her head outdoors.

  “Cassie?” she called.

  I went right up to her. It was beginning to get dark.

  “There you are,” she exclaimed. “I don’t know what got into you, Cassie, but if you’re going to be good, you can come back in. Just try and behave yourself. Father is not pleased with you!”

  Helena stepped to the side and let me enter. I resolved to keep my foolish mouth closed. Saying anything never helped anyway. No one ever listened to me.

  As I entered the living room, I eyed the black-clad stranger with menace. His dark eyes met my gaze unflinchingly and he smiled so blatantly triumphant, that I wanted to tear out his throat in a rage. I saw murder in his eyes. I could sense it, in the way he looked at everyone. I vibrated with fury.

  Who was this demon, dressed in holy garb, sitting so comfortably on our couch? How could he partake of Easter dinner at our table while contemplating deeds most monstrous? Whoever he was or whatever it was, I would not let this evil commit those crimes, in this house. I would die, trying to prevent them. This I swore.

  The demon grinned back at me, as if he knew my thoughts. The stage was set. The battle had begun and not a word yet spoken.

  Father said, calmly, “This is Cassie, Father.”

  “Hello, Cassie,” said the fiend in priest’s clothing.

  Walking by the vile devil, I merely glared. I maneuvered so I could sit in the midst of my innocent family, nestling between pretty little Paris, in her golden ringlets and white-collared, pink dress and gentle Helena. Here, I could carefully monitor the monster’s every movement. I longed to cover my nose. The eye-watering stench of this stranger, intolerable and painfully potent, now hit me like a sledgehammer between the eyes but I refused to reveal any weakness to my attentive adversary. Father frowned, presumably at my rudeness or possibly at my belligerent behavior, but said nothing.

  Mother said, “Excuse Cassie, Father Ulysses. She usually isn’t like this.”

  “Oh, think nothing of it,” smiled the demon in priestly garb. “In my line of work, I am accustomed to being judged harshly.”

  “I find that rather hard to believe, Father,” Mother said, a confused expression on her pleasant face.

  “Many people no longer trust men of the cloth, Andrea,” the evil creature said to Mother. “And rightly so. Many depraved crimes have been committed by men of the Church. The order is facing an accounting, which it must, and a cleansing, that is long overdue. What the Church stands for, its role in society, must now be reevaluated and revamped. The evil must be expunged and a clean slate restored. So I am well used to challenges from many sides.

  “I actually welcome the confrontation,” the evil being said and looked straight at me, with an avid gleam in his eyes. A snarl began to build in my throat like a growing crescendo, which I fought valiantly to contain. It would not do to be sent from the room again for misbehavior. No admonishment or challenge escaped my lips, but threatening looks I launched from my eyes, at this most attractive of unholy visitors.

  “What happened to Father Aquiles, Father Ulysses?” Mother asked. “We never heard why he left so suddenly and we loved him so. We will miss him dearly.”

  “My understanding is that Father Aquiles had a sudden death in the family and had to urgently leave the country on family business, Andrea.”

  I could tell the fiend was lying.

  “Where did he go?” Hector asked.

  “Macedonia, I believe,” the demon priest answered.

  “When can we expect him back, Father?” Helena queried.

  “I am not aware that Father Aquiles is ever coming back,” he said and looked away, a sad expression on his face. I was sure by the timber of his voice and the set of his jaw, that this villain had had something to do with Father Aquiles’ disappearance. His veiled emotion, regarding his predecessor’s disappearance, was one of delight.

  My emotions roiled. I wanted to know what this fiend had done to Father Aquiles. A gentle and kind man Father Aquiles had been, a defender of the weak and impoverished, and one who would never have hurt a single soul. My outrage at the crime against Father Aquiles boiled over and my concern for my family erupted into a conflagration of curses. I lost my temper and lunged at the villain.

  Hector caught me and looked askance at me. He quickly bundled me out of the room, while I listened to Father and Mother again apologize profusely for my unruliness. I knew I

  would be banished to my room without dinner, now. I wanted to kick myself. How could I keep an eye on the evildoer, when I was banished from the gathering?

  “I have no idea what has gotten into you, Cassie, but you are acting insane! I’ve never seen you like this before! What is it about Father Ulysses you don’t like?”

  I let Hector know, in no uncertain terms, how I felt, what I feared, why I fought. He gazed upon me with sympathy in his eyes.

  “Father said you had to go to your room, Cassie. I’m sorry,” Hector said and began to close my door. Just before it completely shut, he said, “I will bring something in for you later, after Father Ulysses is gone. Okay?”

  Banished to my room.

  This I would not tolerate while evil stalked the halls of my home. I waited for a few minutes and then pushed on the door—it never fully closed properly—and crept out, silently. I could hear the voices of the family and of that iniquitous priest in the dining room, gathered about the table. Father was seated at the head of the table, his usual spot, and Mother seated at the opposite end. I peeked in through a crack between the dining room door and the doorway molding,
hidden in shadow.

  The devil in priestly dress was seated to Father’s right and Hector sat on Father’s left. Beautiful Helena sat next to Hector, facing pretty Paris, with her pink hairband and little butterfly mouth. Paris was seated to the left of the demon. I panicked, when I saw what proximity to evil, little Paris was. How could I protect my sweet Paris?

  How could they contemplate eating? The foul stench wafted around the Easter feast, its source sitting right there, exuding putrescence at the dinner table. It was more than I could comprehend. Was my entire family dead in the nose? Could they not taste the foulness of the tainted air? I wanted to retch with every breath.

  Watching from the hallway, attentive and alert, I listened to the fiend have the effrontery to say grace. The family murmured ‘Amen’ at the end and thanked the villain for his kind blessing. Had they listened as I listened, they would have heard the facetious mocking tone inherent in his speech. The villain no more believed his prayers than a charlatan would, extolling the virtues of his miracle cure.

  At mother’s invitation, the family members all began passing the dishes around the table. Everyone was commenting on how the food looked so appetizing. If it were not for the malodorous stench, it might have been! I watched closely as the vile fiend turned to little Paris with a bowl, offering her the roast potatoes. She looked up at him, smiling trustingly, and nodded slowly at what he said to her . . . and then it happened!

  It was so swift, so skillfully done, that I was unsure, for a moment, whether what I had seen was mere confabulation. The fiend had bent towards the little girl, bowl in hand, spooning a couple of potatoes onto Paris’ plate in such a relaxed manner. Could I be certain that what I had seen had indeed occurred? I watched, spellbound. My darling, sweet, adorable Paris sat, uncharacteristically motionless, staring vacantly up at the face of the false peiest, smiling smugly down at her. Paris had just been the victim of a heinous assault, so nefarious and devious—but also exceedingly swift—that no one but me knew the wiser.