Creature of Fear and Strife

This story includes domestic violence, specifically physical abuse against a pregnant woman, and mentions of childhood trauma, depression, and suicide.

“She pushed me, I’m telling you, she pushed me, and I hurt my hip. Look.” She lowered her pants to reveal the bruise on her right hip to her son.

Amalia flinched at the sight of Grandma Merita’s panties. Why didn’t she just describe the bruise instead of showing it?

It was a blue bruise, likely a day old, but Amalia couldn’t say for sure.

“And I tripped and fell on the dresser,” Grandma Merita said.

“Why did you push my mother?”

Now, his eyes were on Lucia, his wife.

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, now she’s calling me a liar!”

The conversation flowed in both directions. Lucia claimed she had no idea how Grandma Merita got hurt, while Grandma Merita accused her of causing the injury. Amalia’s eyes darted around the room, unable to understand why her mom would harm Grandma Merita. What for? Nothing came to mind, but her mother frequently hit her, and her father hit her mother a great deal, so the concept wasn’t completely absurd. Grown-ups appeared to be causing a lot of pain. Confusion clouded Amalia’s mind. Hitting was wrong. She had learned this at school. Violence was accepted at home, though, as long as she wasn’t the one being violent. Who would she possibly hit? In the house full of towering figures, she was the smallest one. Just seven years old. Also, she knew hitting was wrong.

The room went quiet with a sudden, loud thud, causing Amalia to jump. Her father angrily punched another hole in the wall.

“You,” he said, pointing at Grandma Merita, “say Lucia pushed you. And you,” he pointed at Lucia, “claim you do not know how this happened.”

“Who are you going to believe, son?” Grandma Merita asked with a harsh but cunning look on her face. “Who’s the real threat to our family, your mother or that stranger trying to tear us apart?”

“My mother isn’t a stranger,” Amalia thought to herself.

Grandma Merita was either a chronic liar or possessed by the devil. Franko’s aggression had intensified since she moved in. Every disagreement resulted in him physically assaulting Lucia, dragging her by the hair into the bedroom and savagely beating her. Despite knowing Lucia was pregnant, he didn’t hesitate. She suffered a miscarriage last year following a period of physical abuse, but both parents reassured Amalia that the abuse was not the reason for the loss. Now she’s pregnant once more.

Lucia made sure to close the door, even slightly, so Amalia wouldn’t have to witness the violence. Grandma Merita, though, believed it was a good lesson for a young girl to learn about the consequences of misbehavior.

“You have to take it like a woman. The strong woman does everything the husband tells her to do, and when the husband wants to beat her dead, she doesn’t react. She takes it like a woman. She doesn’t cry, like you’re doing now. Why the hell are you crying? I’ll give you a reason to cry if you don’t stop that. Yeah. Better. Now watch proudly as your father teaches your mother a lesson.”

Amalia kept her eyes glued to the bedframe, her breath caught in her throat, as she refused to look at the people lying on it. Her silent sobs held a desperate hope. The injustice of it all choked her, and she prayed, with every tear, that the new baby, a sister or brother, wouldn’t be taken from them again. She prayed her mother wouldn’t die. The thought of calling the police crossed her mind, but it hadn’t been effective before. Her dad had charmed them, convincing them that there was no arguing. He said his wife was out running errands and his daughter was just being a prankster, sorry about that. Following that, he made a threat to physically harm her if she dared to involve the police again. But he kept his hands to himself that time. Who’s suggesting that he wouldn’t hit her now?

Grandma Merita held her firmly, drawing her head towards the unfolding event. Amalia averted her gaze. Then, she shut her eyes tightly, begging for the ordeal to end. Even though she couldn’t see, she could hear every sound.

Then, a random thought popped into her head. She had encountered a strange woman at her friend’s party recently. She seemed awkward, like she might have been an uninvited guest. Her white hair, as long as her legs, cascaded down her back, highlighting her remarkable height. Her eyebrows were white, and so were her lips, and most likely her eyes as well. She wore a floor-length white dress. Because her friend having the party was from the Philippines, and the party was full of Filipinos, she concluded that she must have not been invited. Amalia, herself, stood out as the only white child in the crowd. And then there was the Godmother, she was from Australia. Initially, Amalia thought the pale woman with the freakish white eyes might be a friend or something, but then she saw her standing in the corner of the room, watching her intently.

She asked her friend Grace who that woman was.

“That’s my lola,” she said.

“No, I know your lola, I mean the one standing beside her.”

Grace laughed. “Don’t be silly. No one is standing beside my lola.” And with that, she left, her words hanging in the air like a ghost.

No one was there. But there was. Amalia could see her. And later that day, she actually spoke to her.

The woman, who was not a woman, claimed they were a creature from another world and had come to tell her that she was going to be fine.

“Am I not fine?” Amalia asked.

“I know things are hard sometimes,” the woman said, “but I promise you that I’m watching over you.”

“Like a guardian angel?”

“Like a dream.”

“How can a dream watch me?”

There was a long pause.

“When you’re feeling really frightened or bewildered, and can’t figure out what’s happening, just call my name. I know you feel like that often, don’t you?”

Amalia looked at her shoes. She frequently felt confused at home. Like, completely confused.

She glanced back up, only to find the woman had disappeared. She had instructed her to call her by her name, but hadn’t bothered to introduce herself.

Now, somehow, out of the blue, Amalia had a clear idea of whom to reach out to.

“Enderr!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the room where her father was viciously attacking her mother. For a fleeting second, nothing occurred. Then, with a thunderous roar, she cried out, “ENDERR!”

The silence following her scream was deafening. However, there were faint sounds. A faint echo, like a distant heartbeat heard through a stethoscope, filled the air as her face struck the floor.

Amalia lay helpless on the floor, the room whirling around her, as if she were a spaceship navigating not space, but time itself.

As she spun, the air roared around her, and she could faintly hear her father’s worried voice: “What’s happening to her?”

Amalia struggled to stand after the spinning stopped. Rising to her feet, she realized something was different. Her hands were a ghostly white, and so were her fingernails. A long white gown draped her figure, and her snowy hair cascaded down to her knees. She took a quick look at her reflection in the window. The whiteness of her face was so extreme, it appeared as if she had dipped her face in white baby powder. The look in her eyes. Their brown hue was gone. They, too, were white.

In that instant, a clear purpose dawned on her.

“Stop that,” she demanded. Though her voice was still her own, it had a newfound maturity.

Her father dropped his jaw and walked away from her mother, now wiping her tears.

“The world will end if you keep repeating this cycle.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Grandma Merita said, who seemed unable to move. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, her face pale and her breath shallow.

“Who exactly are you? What did you do to my daughter?” Franko demanded.

“They call me The Enderr. I’ve crossed the vast expanse of space to caution you against the consequences of your actions.”

The Enderr, whose face was a mix of his daughter’s and someone else’s, pointed at Grandma Merita and accused her, “She’s here to destroy this world.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Grandma Merita exclaimed, then turned to her son. “Franko, teach this woman what it means to be a man.”

“Franko,” The Enderr said, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but your mother has been taken over by The Makth, a dreadful creature from the HDF 4-473.0 Galaxy. The Makth exists solely to inflict damage. For eternity, The Makth and The Enderr have been locked in a bitter rivalry. Our age surpasses that of the Universe. From our vantage point, we witnessed the birth of stars and the evolution of life across the cosmos. Long ago, a prophecy foretold:”

Her voice altered as she uttered the prophecy. The sound was unearthly, like it was being emitted from a broken speaker. It wasn’t Enderr speaking, and it wasn’t Amalia either.

“In the depths of time, 4.6 billion years hence, when the ancient stars flicker and the Earth bears scars of countless eons, a family will rise amidst the turmoil. They shall flee the shattered remains of a fallen rule in the land of Albania, carried by a humble vessel across the ageless seas to the shores of Greece.

“From their lineage will spring forth children bearing hearts of fire and minds of vision. They will rise as saviors in the face of humanity’s gravest trials: the wrath of a wounded climate, the shadows of nuclear flames, and the chains of a new and cunning enslavement.

“The wandering family shall plant the seeds of hope, and their bloodline shall weave the threads of survival, uniting the broken fragments of a world teetering on the edge. They shall be heralds of change, wielding wisdom to battle destruction, and courage to birth renewal.

“Heed this truth, for it is written in the stars and whispered by the winds of eternity: salvation shall emerge not from might or dominion, but from those who bear the legacy of resilience and the will to endure.”

She stopped for a moment, inhaling deeply. Composing herself, she resumed her speech.

“The prophecy is referring to the present time. This is the family. Your lineage holds the potential to alter the course of history. The Makth exists only to cause pain. The Makth is terrified by the prophecy of hope, as it could lead to their demise.”

Franko eyed his mother with doubt. She was petrified, her fear so intense it rendered her completely incapable of moving or thinking. It looked like she couldn’t budge while The Enderr stood before her.

“Even if that’s true, what does it have to do with us anyway?”

The Enderr stepped closer and touched Franko’s forehead with their palm. With The Enderr’s touch, a luminescent light emanated from Franko’s forehead, instantly imparting the secrets of the galaxies. Everything unfolded before his eyes. He seemed to be in a trance.

Across billions of years, The Makth has journeyed from planet to planet, extinguishing the light of prophecies and leaving behind a legacy of ruin. The Earth is the lone survivor, the final refuge of life in the universe. Your mother has been possessed by The Makth, filling your mind with deceit and causing you to brutally attack your wife, resulting in the heartbreaking loss of all her pregnancies. Amalia is forced to witness the abuse. She will experience depression in her late teenage years, reaching a breaking point where she tragically decides to take her own life. As a result, the family line will die out. The prophecy will never come true. The prophecy’s failure will lead to a dystopian future where technology dominates your kind, the climate collapses, and a nuclear war annihilates all life. Earth will become devoid of life. All life in the universe will cease to exist.

A silent communication passed between them, The Enderr’s message unspoken yet clear: “You know what to do.”

Franko snapped out of the trance as The Enderr withdrew their hand. His rage, so intense just minutes ago, had completely disappeared. His eyes met Amalia’s, though she was veiled by the creature’s white covering. His daughter was the most precious thing to him. He then turned his gaze towards his mother. Her black dress and veil seemed to be a somber reminder of her husband’s passing. Every day felt like a funeral to her since her husband’s death, and she dressed accordingly. Deep wrinkles etched her face, and her eyelids looked weary. However, a sense of unfamiliarity lingered around her. He had no idea what it was. He lingered his gaze on her. Dressed in black, lines etched deeply on her face, her eyes were dark.

Eyes that were black.

His mother’s eyes were blue, like his.

Was there a strange creature disguised as his mom, forcing him to perform horrifying deeds? Was he trying to make her happy, or was he a truly awful person?

“Oh my God!” he cried out. With a look towards his wife, he reached out a hand to help her.

Lucia flinched, but a moment later, she took the hand. She rose slowly, her head feeling heavy.

“I’m so sorry,” he begged, but she gazed at him with confusion, as if emerging from a dream, needing a moment to orient herself in the real world.

“Amalia!” Lucia gasped, her voice barely a whisper, and sprang to her feet, rushing to her daughter who lay helpless on the floor. The Enderr was gone.

Franko sat up and saw a woman who wasn’t his mother staring back at him. He knew what to do. As he started chanting, his gaze pierced her, then pierced The Makth.

By the light of dawn and the shadow of dusk,

By the breath of the wind and the force of the earth,

I summon the power of all that is just,

To sever the bonds that gave you birth.

A wind whipped around them, the sound like a wild beast, its invisible force sending papers flying and rattling the windows.

The Makth, creature of fear and strife,

I break your tether to this mortal life.

Return to the void from which you came,

Be bound by this spell and erased by your name.

Franko’s hands, glowing with an otherworldly light, spun in a circle around his mother, the wind carrying the ethereal luminescence.

By salt and flame, by stone and air,

By the will of the strong and the strength of the fair,

I draw this circle, sacred and whole,

A barrier of light to reclaim control.

A piercing cry tore through the air as Grandma Merita collapsed to the ground, her face contorted in pain. The wind howled through the room, lifting chairs and papers off the floor and sending them spinning around The Makth, creating a miniature tornado. The closet doors swung open with a loud bang, sending a gust of musty air into the room. The window shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the room.

Begone, The Makth, your dominion is done,

Your shadow fades with the rise of the sun.

By ancient words and the caster’s might,

I cast you away into endless night.

He repeated the final verses, etched into his very being by The Enderr, his arms outstretched in a gesture of ancient power. He saw his mother’s face crumble as his words cut through her, each syllable a sharp blade. Tears streamed down her face as the pain pulsed through her. The black veil, like a dissolving cloud, began to thin, revealing the Grandmother behind it, creating a separation between her and The Makth.

Begone, The Makth, your dominion is done.

Amalia scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding, and nestled into her mother’s embrace.

Your shadow fades with the rise of the sun.

The Makth, a monstrous, swirling cloud of smoke, shrieked at the family as it slowly drifted away from Grandma Merita.

By ancient words and the caster’s might.

The black smoke, swirling and churning, was sucked into the room by the tornado, but a portion of The Makth remained clinging tightly to the Grandma.

I cast you away into endless night.

At last, it let go of Grandma Merita, who slumped to the floor, and a plume of smoke escaped through the broken window, merging with a dense, white mass of smoke already gathering in the air.

The white smoke, like a ghostly hand, enveloped the black smoke and then vanished into the vast, star-filled night sky. In a sudden, alarming moment, the objects around Franko’s mother - books, photo frames, everything - plunged to the floor, as if a force field had collapsed.

“Mom?” Franko’s voice cracked with worry as he rushed to her side.

Grandma Merita let out a deep sigh, then paused, her gaze drifting to the distant horizon. Time seemed to stretch as they watched her, their expressions etched with concern, before she finally spoke. “It’s gone.”

She got to her feet and joined the family.

“Is it really gone?” Amalia asked softly.

Franko reassured them, saying, “Yeah, we’re safe now.” He pulled Lucia and Amalia into a close hug. “I’m truly sorry for all of this.”

Tears streamed down his face.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Grandma Merita said. “It was that thing within me.”

Their cries filled the air, a thick tapestry of sadness, comfort, and a flicker of hope. With The Makth vanquished, the prophecy would now be fulfilled. But Amalia did not care for the prophecy. Finally, after all they had been through, they felt safe.