God Wouldn't Mind

The smell of sulfur filled Emily’s nostrils as she struck the matchhead on the side of the box. The light from the flame caused her to temporarily see spots every time she blinked. She extended the match to the fresh wick resting atop the blood red candle she had found in a drawer in the house and lit it. The wax instantly pooled and ran down the sides of the beacon before dripping onto the grass. Emily rested on her knees next to the freshly filled hole with her Bible in her hand and optimistic thoughts on her mind.

She needed her Henry to come back to her. Emily missed him dearly.

Emily closed her eyes and cleared her mind of the doubts that had piled in the back of her head. All she could focus on now was hope. Hope that she knew what she was doing. Hope that she had the strength. Hope that Google wouldn’t lie to her.

Being brought up in a religious household, Emily knew what she was about to do may be an afront to God, but she had to push those fears aside. She could reconcile with him later. The echoes of her mother’s voice filled her thoughts, “God works in mysterious ways,” over and over. It ate at her. She knew he did and believed it whole-heartedly, but maybe he got this one wrong.

The light from the full moon illuminated her surroundings and helped guide her hand as she drew a star on the grave. The article said “pentagram,” but she wasn’t about to go to hell over Henry. No, she just spun the star a few degrees until it looked normal and not satanic. In her mind, this would help her case should God need any further details.

A few rhyming verses were instructed to be repeated as part of the ritual, but Emily felt uncomfortable saying them, so she made up her own chant:

“Be it day. Be it night.

I ask you to see the light.

I like burgers. I like fries.

Please let my Henry a…RIIISE.”

She repeated these lines several times with a synchronized arm movements for emphasis. Every time she repeated herself, she got a little louder. Apparently, she was supposed to be waiting for the candle to get blown out. That would either mean Henry was coming back to life, or to haunt her. Either way, she’d get to see him again, or so she figured.

As she begun to lose her breath, she yelled the verses as loud as she could and raised her arms to the sky one last time.

The smoke from the snuffed candle tickled her nostrils and brought a grin to her face. She waited patiently for what may come next. According to the instructions, if done correctly, the ground should start shaking and Henry should appear one limb at a time like a phoenix from the ashes.

She waited.

And waited.

The longer she waited, the damper her eyes got until the tears streamed down her cheeks in consistent flows. She wailed in pain. It just had to work, she thought to herself. But it hadn’t.

She stood up and frantically stomped the dirt around his plot. The dust in the air caused her to cough a little bit and it mixed with the tears causing her face to become unexpectedly dirty. She ran inside and straight upstairs, only stopping in the bathroom to wash up before diving into her bed and crying into her pillows.

Her clock said 3:24 when she was suddenly awoken by an oddly familiar noise. It was if something was slowly rolling across the floor, occasionally bumping into things as it guided itself through the darkness.

It couldn’t be, Emily thought to herself, piecing together the noises.

“Henry? Is…is that you?” There was no response. “Henry?” She asked into the night once again.

Emily peeked her head out of her room and quickly scanned both ends of the hallway. Left, right, then left again. But she didn’t see anything.

“Henrrrryyy?” Her voice echoed off the walls and into the dark voids of the house.

The rolling started again, but it sounded further away, so she left her doorway and began walking down the corridor towards the stairwell. She heard a bump coming from downstairs and got a little excited. She quickly darted down the stairs, her feet patting each step with a quick tap as they swiftly moved from one to the next.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and held her breath, listening for any signs of life.

A shuffling came from the office and she immediately turned to walk towards it. As she approached the doorway and let her eyes adjust to the images she was seeing, her smile quickly turned to a grimace and the air left her lungs completely.

“Oh…God.”

The creature that stood before her was not Henry. No. It was something that looked like Henry but Emily knew it wasn’t. It had glowing red eyes and snarled as it noticed her. She gasped in horror as it pivoted to approach her. Its long, disheveled hands reached for her, grasping at the air with distorted tendrils.

She screamed.

And screamed.

The longer she screamed, the redder her face got until she felt like her skull was going to explode. She shouted in distress. She had to move, to run. But she couldn’t.

Suddenly, the lights in the office flicked on and Emily noticed her brother Zach standing just inside the room. Henry’s evil spirit had vanished.

“Are you okay?” Zach asked in a panic. “I heard you screaming from all the way upstairs.”

Emily had to catch her breath. The sweat beaded on her forehead and began to moisten her brow. She tried to speak, but it was hard to find the words. “H…He…Henry….ghost…res…urrected.”

“What?” Zach was completely confused and gave Emily a few moments to compose herself.

She slowed her heartbeat and begun to form actual sentences. “I missed Henry. So, I looked up resurrection spells.” She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket and handed it to Zach. “I think I did it wrong, because his angry spirit tried to get me.” She pointed to the corner that she had first noticed Henry in.

“Henry? As in your dead hamster?” He scratched his head. “That Henry?”

“I just missed him so much.”

Zach sighed, looked at the paper, scolded her for trying to conjure some black magic in a Christian household and sent her to bed. “I will say, though, that’s pretty impressive for an 8-year-old.”

She tried to laugh but hadn’t gathered that much strength yet.

She laid in bed long after Zach had shut the door and stared at her ceiling in the dark. She went through all that had happened to her and feared that God had punished her. “God works in mysterious ways” entered her mind again.

And so did the rolling and bumping.

Only, it wasn’t in her mind. It was right outside her door.