Magic Blood

Sarah glanced at the clock, it was late. She folded the page corner and set the book down next to the lamp, then flipped the switch, when a light suddenly came on at the neighbors' house. That's strange, she thought. The old house had been empty for months, and she had no recollection of ever seeing anyone move in. Curious, she pulled herself out of bed and went to investigate. With her face pushed close to the glass, she narrowed her eyes to get a better look.

A man, sitting in the living room. He appeared to be talking into a cell phone. His skin was pale white and his hair a salt 'n' pepper gray, straggly, shoulder length, possibly in his sixties? but she couldn't be sure. Then, he stood up, and began pacing the room, the phone still to his ear. He was wearing a black cloak, rather theatrical like a magician with a flash of red silk beneath the collar. His lips moved rapidly as he ping-ponged from one end of the room to the other, his body language seemed to suggest that whoever he was talking to was about something of a concerning matter. Suddenly, he stopped, directly in front of the window and lowered the phone to his side. The conversation had ended. He stood there for several minutes, motionless, staring at the floor... then, he looked up, straight at her. The surprise stare caught Sarah off guard, her heart missed a beat as she quickly pivoted out of sight. Christ! did he just see me? she whispered to herself. He couldn't have, she thought. It's pitch black outside and his room was all lit up. After catching her breath, she decided to take another look. She slowly eased herself out from the cover of the wall, only to see the house in complete darkness.

Sarah lay in bed thinking about the man, that stare, and those eyes, black as the night, there was something about him that didn't feel right. After tossing and turning she eventually drifted off to sleep. She was awakened by the sound of the message alert on her phone. Who would be messaging at this time of the morning? she muttered, as her hand fumbled around in the dark feeling for the phone. Holding it above her head, she swiped the screen. Her eyes widened as she read the message. "I SAAAAAW YOU." She shot a quick glance at her window. Was it him? she thought. How would he know my number? A sudden panic gripped her.

Remembering she had forgotten to check the back door before coming to bed, she slipped her dressing gown on and gingerly made her way down the stairs. The heavy fall of snow that evening had turned the house icy cold. As she walked pass the kitchen the refrigerator suddenly burst into a hum, causing her to force a little gasp. When she got to the door, she grasped the handle and turned. It was locked. She peered out through the glass, but it was too dark to see anything, so she flipped the outside light on. Her eyes began scanning the backyard, she didn't notice anything unusual or out of place. As she was about to flip the switch, something caught her attention. She turned back to look, and saw them, leading up to the back steps. Shoe prints in the snow. In that very moment, a melodic whistle rang out from inside the house.

Her heart thumped and a cold clamminess filtered into every pore of her skin. She went to open the door, forgetting it was locked, the key, she screamed inside her head, where's the key? The whistle came again. It was coming from the front of the house. Sarah ran down the hallway and up the stairs, frantic to get to the safety of her bedroom. She slammed the door shut and turned the lock, her ear pressed hard against the door, listening. My phone, she remembered as she reached into her pocket, but It wasn't there, realizing she must of dropped it in the hallway. I could climb out the window it wasn't that far of a drop. She grabbed the window handle with both hands and heaved upwards, but it wouldn't budge. She tried again with everything she had, her face grimacing, but the window wouldn't move. Click, Clock, Click, Clock. The foot steps were coming up the stairs. Then nothing. The sound of heavy breathing emanated from outside her bedroom door. Sarah cupped a hand to her mouth, to stifle her gasp, her body froze. Suddenly, the door crashed open. His demon black eyes looked straight at her. A half smile played across his thin lips as he playfully tapped the large blade on the side of his head. He lunged straight for her. The knife cutting through the air in a single stroke.

Sarah bolted awake from her dream, her body shaking uncontrollably.

All week Sarah couldn't shake the dream from her head. She kept telling herself it was only a dream, but it felt so real. She glanced across at the 'For Sale' sign, the old house was still empty. She was about to mount her bike, when a voice called from across the road.

"Ms Sarah! come quickly, I needs you dear." Mabel Brown had lived in the neighborhood for as long as Sarah could remember. Since the old woman's husband had passed away, she spent most of her time in front of the TV and talking to her cat.

"Morning Mabel," said Sarah, as she pushed her bike up the footpath. The old woman stood on the front porch, half stooped, clutching the rails of her walking frame.

"I needs your help Ms Sarah," said the old woman. " The cable guy come to my house dis morning. He said I gotta pay whats owing or he gonna disconnect my cable. I says to him, please Sir, my TV is all I gots... I said. You gotta help me Ms Sarah."

"I'll see what I can do when I get home from work Mabel," replied Sarah.

"Oh! thank you Ms Sarah."

"By-the-way," Sarah decided to ask. "Have you noticed anyone at the old house lately."

"No, I ain't seen nobody. Whys dat Ms Sarah."

"It's nothing Mabel," said Sarah, as she pushed off with one leg and headed along the road.

It had snowed for most of the day, blanketing the street in white powder. Sarah leaned against the kitchen counter, holding the mug in both hands sipping the hot liquid. It had been almost three weeks since she had the dream. Although she realized it was just a dream, there was something in the back of her mind that bothered her.

She finished her drink and headed to bed. The temperature in her bedroom had dropped, so she decided to go down and turn up the central heating. As she was about to go back up the stairs, she heard the sound of glass breaking coming from her bedroom. She pushed the door open to see an old photo of the small town of Sleepyhead had fallen off the wall, scattering bits of broken glass across the floor. Returning with a broom and bucket, she began sweeping up the glass, when she noticed another photo sticking out from the back of the frame. She carefully pulled it free and sat on the end of the bed to take a look. On the back, written in red crayon was a date '1824' with the words 'Magic blood' below it. Rather odd, she thought. She flipped the photo over, and her face froze with horror. It was the man in her dream. This can't be possible? And who was this man? She had to find out more.

Sarah leaned up against the headboard with her laptop open. She had typed in any keyword she could think of in the hope of something showing up that would lead her to finding out about the man in the photo. She was about to call it a night when an old news article with a photo popped up on screen. It was him, hanging from a rope. Either side were two men in uniform smiling at the camera. Sarah traced her finger further down the article and began to read a passage out loud.

Robert Jones also know as 'Magic Blood' was hanged at Big Hill prison today for the murder of three women. He was well known in the community for performing magic tricks at various local establishments. Mr Jones resided at 114 Hollow Street in the small town of Sleepyhead.

It was the house next door. Sarah closed her laptop and a shiver shot up her spine as she stared at the wall, when a light suddenly came on at the neighbors' house.