The Witch's Son

It was about time Erica Stevens got home after pulling a double. The client was restless that day from the behaviorists’ pressures on him, but Erica did what she could to comfort the man after they left. 

“If he doesn’t want to shower right that moment, why do they force him to?” she thought to herself as she walked through the door. Her cat Sprinkles, a chubby girl with black fur, nudged her cheek against Erica’s leg, where she then picked her little friend up to give her a hug and kiss. 

“Aw, did you miss me, my friend?” she asked. Sprinkles made a little “rowwww” in reply. The cat flicked her tail as she walked toward a room with a table after Erica put her down. The table had the picture of a smiling boy with a black bowl cut in the back, with his favorite Beanie Babies monkey plush surrounded by candles and roses. The picture was of her son, Felix, who died of a seizure the year prior. As she looked upon the picture, she could remember the pangs emanating from her heart when she saw him collapse. Desperation and adrenaline coursed through her with each thrust of her hands into his chest. Although she was always a calm and collected witch, her tender soul could never recover. 

That table was not just a shrine, but an altar. Erica swore to her spirits she would do anything to hear his voice again. Her memories of him replayed daily like a hamster on a wheel without breaks. Whenever the sun shone, he jumped, wanting to reach the sky after seeing superheroes like Superman fly on TV. Erica showed him her favorite superheroes, like the Scarlet Witch and Doctor Voodoo, who could connect with forces often beyond human comprehension. Felix preferred the astronomically strong characters like the Hulk and Superman but shared a common interest with his mom over H.P. Lovecraft. They both agreed Cthulhu was one of the strongest beings out there. 

She knelt before the altar again as she communed with her spirits. Erica needed to concentrate beyond the memories and allow total presence. For her, a soul would only appear to a clear mind. An invisible essence from a dimension behind the perception of the naked eye entered her vicinity. While the subtle steps of two little feet skipped across the carpet, Erica held still as a statue. Any movement or even a thought beyond Felix would alter the outcome of a spell that involved fragile variables. She needed a vessel to allow the soul to manifest, and she chose something that reflected love while Felix was alive. 

It stopped. Erica opened only her eyes while the rest of her body waited to move. She raised her head to gaze on the monkey before her. There was an energy, but only a region of her brain opened by magick could perceive anything beyond the plush on the table. 

“Felix?” she whispered. 

Nothing moved, yet something was there. 

“Hi mommy,” the monkey said. 

“Hi honey,” she said to the plush as her heart skipped a beat. “It feels so good to hear your voice again. I waited for you for so long. Every day I think of you. You’ve never left my heart or my mind.”

His voice was the way she remembered—complete with the emphasis on “m” sounds—but it was the only recognizable feature.

“Can we play, mommy?” Felix asked.

Erica’s lips reached to her cheekbones. “Of course we can play,” she said. “I have your Superman figure underneath the table just for you.” The particular figure was Erica’s from 1994 that sported a long black mullet as opposed to the usual short quiff, which was one of Felix’s favorite toys.

Superman was in his signature horizontal flying position, ready to take the monkey into the sky.

“Here he comes, Felix,” she said before she hummed the John Williams theme song from the 1970s film. With her other hand, Erica held both the toys together and spun them in her ritual room which used to be her son’s bedroom. In place of the small twin bed was a pentagram, and a velvet couch instead of a dresser.

“I just want you, mommy,” Felix said. She rested the Superman toy on the couch.

“I think I’m fine with that, baby. Mommy’s here,” she told him.

The plush’s head moved for the first time to take some skin off her palm before blood splashed onto the pentagram. Her concentration ceased and her heart thumped like an antelope trying to escape a predator up a hill.

“You’re not Felix,” Erica said before she swung her arm to fling the toy off her hand. “My son would never do that.”

The monkey’s body was limp as it flew across the air and plopped in the corner of the room. Waves of energy pierced Erica’s temples.

“You’re out of your element,” a masculine voice whispered outside her ears. “There are forces you were never meant to summon.”

The energy entered the plush through an invisible plane, springing life back into its feet before the rest of the body. It grew eyelids before the shape of eyebrows pointed down to its nose.

The air left Erica’s breath for an instant before the monkey sprinted at its target. Erica foresaw its next move before she exited and slammed the door behind her. She squeezed her hand and clenched all the muscles in her biceps on the doorknob to contain the monkey and prevent it from biting anything more than her hand, or to enact any other plans the spirit behind its lifeless beady eyes had in store. 

The toy bore the strength of five men despite its size, and the sweat on Erica’s palms lubricated the doorknob, opening an opportunity for the demon. As the door swung open, the monkey’s hair frayed like a mangy dog and smiled with what resembled human teeth. 

“Time to play!” the demonic voice roared as wind rushed past the toy. Focusing on Felix was ineffective, as the demon was no longer confined by Erica’s concentrated magick. Her only options were to destroy it or be devoured. If Erica were to die, she’d prefer it be by her own hand or natural causes. She had faith her time was yet to come. 

Her veins reached a pulsing record as she ran to the only other room she could defend herself. Down the hallway was the living room where the fireplace was, as it was the only gateway back to Hell for her to send the monster to. The monkey monster dug its teeth into her shoulder, using all the force in its jaws to snap the bone. Her teeth gritted as she rolled down near the fireplace. Erica squeezed the top of the monkey’s head, which separated the teeth from her shoulder with just enough time to snatch the fire poker near her. 

She slammed the monkey down face first on its belly and impaled it through the back, which made it scream as if it had human organs inside, before she held it over the fire like a frantic roasting marshmallow. Green ooze seeped out of the fur as its physical form melted into the wood. 

Once the poker clanged onto the floor, Erica couldn’t help but fall down with it, as she cried into her knees upon the revelation that her son was truly lost forever. 

A gust of wind materialized from the fireplace and made its way through Erica’s ears. A sudden bloody smile formed underneath her tears.