Black Letter

Carlos Horacio opened his mailbox expecting nothing, but instead he was surprised by something. A black envelope was sitting in his mailbox. He took it out. On it was his name written in white ink. He took it and walked back to his house. His feet took him to his couch and his hands began to open the letter. Inside was a black letter with with the words written in white ink. It read:

“Dear Carlos Horacio,

I see you. I see what you do. I know you more than you know yourself. I know that you are expecting your wife to return home with your child from school in about fifteen minutes. I know that they will not come home because I have them here with me. I also know that your neighbor has found a sword in their yard. I know that this sword belongs to me. I know that if you do not retrieve that sword and take it off Miss Serrato’s property within the hour, then your wife and child will never return home. I know that you are a reasonable man. I know you will not fail me.

The clock is ticking,

            Suzy”

Carlos Horacio turned the letter over in hopes that this would prove to be a joke, but there was nothing. At least, there was nothing at first. As he stared at the back of the letter, words began to appear as if an invisible hand with an invisible pen were writing on it. When the words were written they read “Take you gun” in white ink. 

Carlos Horacio was a small man with the nerves of a mouse. He began to cry in fear of his wife and child’s safety. Tears rolled down his tan face and onto his button up shirt. As the waters of fear and sadness soaked his beard, the black letter turned to black dust and settles onto the floor in the shape of a clock. The black clock made of the black dust that came from the black letter began tick as the black hands moved. 

Carlos Horacio got his revolver and filled it up. He had six bullets. He had six shots to protect himself. He offered up two prayers. One was for the safety of his wife and child. The other was for no violence to occur while he confronted his neighbor. He put his pistol in its holster on the back side of his waist and ur on a jacket to cover it up. He did not want anyone to think he meant any harm. He walked out the door of his home and carried himself to his neighbor’s door.

Carlos Horacio knocked on the door. “Beatriz,” he called as he waited for the door to open, “there is something I must discuss with you. It is very urgent, so may I please come in?” 

Immediately after Carlos Horacio finished speaking the door opened, but there was no one inside. Carlos Horacio let himself in. As soon as he was in the house the door closed behind him, shutting out all light. Carlos Horacio began to break down again, for he was a small man with the nerves of a mouse. 

“So Carlos Horacio has come to play?” said the voice of Beatriz Serrato all around him. He could not pinpoint her location. “Has he tired of his own wife and come seeking something new? Or maybe he has simply come for sugar. Yes. Sugar. Maybe Carlos Horacio would like to stay for supper.”

Carlos Horacio reached for his gun. He heard breathing in his ear. He heard his beating as silence consumed the small house. His breath became shaky and slow. He realized that he needed to pee, and feared it would soon leave him. The breathing in his ear stopped. He slowly turned around.

“Carlos Horacio and I,” said the voice, but this time Carlos Horacio could tell where it was coming from, “could have quite the FEAST!” 

Carlos Horacio finished turning around quickly and fired his pistol where the voice had come from. In the second of muzzle-flash, he saw what had become of Beatriz Serrato. She was hanging from the ceiling by claws like those of a lion. Her brown hair was no more and her skin had become whiter than the ink on the letter Carlos Horacio had received minutes before. When the bullet fired from the gun hit Beatriz Serrato’s shoulder, she screeched like a harpy in the old Greek tales. Behind her bloodstained lips were razor sharp teeth that were also bloodstained.

After firing his gun and seeing what had become of his neighbor, Carlos Horacio fled while the demonic creature that was Beatriz Serrato was stunned. He ran into her bedroom and hid behind the bed. As he sat down quickly, his hand touched a cool metal. He felt around it and his hand found a hilt. The sword! Carlos Horacio thought as he pulled the sword out from under the bed and gripped it tightly. 

“So Carlos Horacio has rushed to Beatriz’s bedroom,” said the monster’s voice all around him. “He does not come for supper but for dessert. Yesssss… I is hungry too. Eat, eat, eat. Yes. We need food. She gives us food. The girl in the hat keeps us full.”

As his neighbor spoke, Carlos Horacio heard the claws scraping the ceiling. He heard her voice narrow into one spot: right above him. “If Carlos Horacio desires food,” said the creature, “then let us EAT!”

Carlos Horacio instinctively held the sword upright. In doing so, his neighbor fell onto the blade. Carlos Horacio felt her warm blood leaking onto his shirt. “Thank you, Carlos,” his neighbor said in a tired voice before she stopped breathing. Carlos Horacio immediately pulled the sword out of her and ran to one of the windows at the front of the house. He tore the curtains open and looked at his house. His wife was leading his son through the door.

Carlos Horacio sighed and looked down upon himself. His shirt was covered in blood and so was the black sword in his hand. He looked at the sword, and in words began to form on it. “Your job is not yet done” the white words said. Carlos Horacio ran out the door and over to his house. He got into his car and raced off at the top speed of 50 miles per hour to his brother-in-law’s farm.

Carlos Horacio hid his car in the woods began running through his brother-in-law’s farmland. He ran until he was in sight of what he was looking for: a well. Carlos Horacio turned his head to make sure there was nobody following him. When he turned his head to looking front of him, there was a girl wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, boots, and and a cowboy hat. Her skin was tan and her hair was a dark brown. “Hiya, Carlos Horacio!” she said as she waved. 

“Who are you and how do you know my name?” Carlos Horacio asked as he held out the sword before him. 

“Why, it’s me,” the girl replied, “Suzy. I sent you your letter. Now kindly give me that there sword.”

“You drove that woman insane,” Carlos Horacio said in shock. “You threatened the lives of my wife and child. This sword has brought no good to me, so I am disposing of it.”

“It’s not yours to dispose of Carlos,” Suzy said dangerously. “You won’t like whatcha find in gettin rid of it.”

“I think I’ll like anything that gets this sword away from me,” Carlos Horacio said. He ran past Suzy expecting a chase, but she did not follow. She only turned around to watch him run. He was getting close to the well.

“Bye bye, Carlos Horacio,” Suzy said. 

As soon as those words were out of Suzy’s mouth, Carlos Horacio tripped on a rock. He was so close to the well that he tumbled right in. The blade was thirsty and positioned itself just right so that when Carlos Horacio hit the water, the sword went straight through his gut. As blood ran into the water, Carlos Horacio lost all consciousness. As he lost all consciousness, he lost his life. His body was never found, for the well dried up and no water was ever pulled from it again. The only water that would ever be in that well would come from those who held the black sword in their hand.