The Summoning

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Not a single wooden soldier had escaped Autumn’s chilling touch, so cold, it burned the branches to nothing more than twisted bark draped in all hues of red. The frigid concrete step beneath me froze my bare feet. While wisps of wind playfully tugged at the thin fabric of the long coat covering my pyjamas. 

"Ari, get in here!" 

My mom hollered from inside the house. I grunted and turned back inside, abandoning the peace of the neighbourhood in the early morning light. 

"Urgh," Mom stumbled into my line of sight, a mountain of undelivered newspapers in her arms. 

"Ari, you're gonna need to step up okay. Get ready for school and go join Lucas on his bike," 

I nodded shyly, then shuffled past her into my room grunting a small yes. Lucas was our neighbour, not exactly a friend of mine. But our moms’ were friendly so the two of us had biked to school together every day since the first day of elementary school. 

"Good," Mom sighed exasperatedly then walked out the door. 

In my room, I threw on a pair of faded jeans, a bright red hoodie several sizes too large as well as a small yellow paster covering a scar over the bridge of my nose. Then just before I left the room, I picked up an ornate photo frame with a tattered photograph of another boy around seven. He resembled a near copy of myself, pale from his fair skin to his snowy hair and eyes bright with the innocence of childhood. My brother, Caldon. I threw down the photo on my bed and wiped away a tear making its way down my cheek.  

Bag slung over my shoulder, I wheeled my bike down the path stretching down to the road. Lucas was already waiting with a sour expression on his face.

“Took you long enough!” he shouted from over the road. I mumbled a short apology as I wheeled my bike over the tarmac to meet him. He just huffed and began to pedal away toward school. 

With me panting as I laboured to keep up, Lucas called over his shoulder to me. 

“So,” I perked up my ears to pay attention. “You know how this stupid little town has that whole history of ghosts thing going on,” I nodded before remembering Lucas couldn’t see me and yelled yes. The pitiful little town we lived in practically thrived on its so-called supernatural location. The history of the area was thick with rumours of ghosts and terrible creatures around the Autumn months. Today most people regarded the stories as nonsense but a passionate love for Halloween and autumn still burned in each inhabitant. Giving birth to a complex culture consisting of superstitious nonsense and a hive of dark summoning instruments ripping through the town once each year. 

Lucas slowed his bike till we rode pressed side by side, then whispered. 

“Zena, my friend from school, has managed to get hold of a summoning deck. We’re going to activate it tonight with a few others. But to get it to work we need someone who has witnessed death. We thought you might like to join us and be that one.” 

Conflicting thoughts churned through my mind. On one hand, the opportunity to hang out with Lucas was a privilege. But at the cost of what, being a tool, and if I was honest I was terrified. 

“Oh come on,” pleaded Lucas mockingly. It was clear he didn’t care for me, but his Mom would be damned if she didn’t make sure her son at least made a small effort to be friendly. 

“It’ll be fun, we might even summon your brother Caldon. Remember, the one who died last year,” 

I fell silent as I remembered walking home together with my arm over his shoulder in a brotherly manner. Tears tracked down his face as he sobbed uncontrollably. I remembered his smooth hands gripping mine as he whispered a sorry saying he needed some time alone before running off. I didn’t even have the time to warn him before the ominous screech of tires tore my world in two. 

“Yeah,” I mumbled to Lucas, “I remember,” He waited for a while till I finally nodded. 

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Lucas whooped and pumped the air with a fist. 

“Cool,” his chest rose in relief at my response. “I’ll text you later with Zena’s address, I might ask you to pick something up if that’s okay. Just stuff for the summoning you know.” I didn’t respond, still shaken by memories. Lucas grinned widely, taking my silence as a yes. He shouted a sharp bye in elation before speeding off, leaving me to pedal like a mad man after him. 

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Later in the day, I sat stiffly in my seat. The teacher scribbled words on the whiteboard hastily as she explained to us the cycle of a volcano. My classmates were either integrated to the point where they were falling off their seats from leaning so far forward or staring up at the ceiling in utter boredom. I was one of the latter. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy learning. I was the smartest kid in the class by far. I only found it tiresome as teachers went over topics I had known since kindergarten. 

My stupor was broken as I felt my bag vibrate against my foot. It was Lucas texting me. I reached for my phone and stared at the small writing on the screen.

Lucas Augan

• Are you still good for tonight?

Ari Michel

• Yup, need anything?

Lucas Augan

• Just a pinch of that town pumpkin spice from the science lab.

Ari Michel

• Got it, meet you soon.

My fingers hovered over the screen of my phone as I watched Lucas reply begin to load. Original town pumpkin spice. Who was I kidding, the spice crafted by the first pioneers to settle in this town and was a rare collector’s item at the very least. The science teacher’s meagre stocks filled only one tiny vial displayed on her desk which she used thanks to the spices explosive properties. Still no turning back now.

When the bell finally rang loud and clear through the classroom I raced out with the others. I recognised Zena across the hall as she stalked past. Her choppy black hair hung from her sharply angled face in vicious spikes, like a warning. Get the spice or you’re dead it seemed to say. 

With a gulp, I turned back into the class. My teachers back faced me as she bent over a desk reading the engraved words left by students over the years. I rushed forward to the desk and ducked. My teacher turned suddenly but didn’t spot me crouching down. She shrugged and walked out of the classroom closing the door behind her. 

I sunk to the floor in relief, then reached up for the vial. The spice inside was a dusty orange filling only half the glass container. It resembled sand as I poured it into a small plastic container from my lunch box. But its sound sounded like a chorus of whispers chanting one long shush as it settled in the container. With the spice secure I slung my bag on my back and crept into the hallway towards the exit. Phase one, secure spice, complete. Phase two, find Zena’s house. 

-----------

The door before me was a peeling mess of auburn paint. The iron door knocker squealed as I tapped on the door. The choppy harried girl from the hallway answered. 

“You Ari?” she questioned. I felt somewhat disgusted as she punctuated each word with the sound of chewing gum stretching and slapping over her tongue. 

“Oh yeah, is Lucas here yet?” at that moment Lucas appeared over her shoulder a can of coke in his hand.

“Hey, Ari you made it, we’re down in the basement. Do you have the spice?”

“Yeah,” He flashed one of his signature grins and pushed aside the door allowing me to follow Zena into the house. 

The so-called basement was far less intimidating than I thought. It had been converted into a sort of man cave, with the thin carpet you find in garages covering the floor and serval couches basked in the warm light of an overhead lighting fixture. Zena gestured to a couch where four other kids sat impatiently. They were all swathed in black fabrics and carried an air of overwhelming confidence. 

We talked for a while until Lucas finally stood before us studying a deck of plain black cards dusted with spice in his hands.

“Okay guys are we ready for this,” he was met by a chorus of enthusiastic you bets. “Cool Cool then, right now in a circle.” I moved to the floor as Lucas handed us each three cards and moved us into a position on the cool carpet.

My knee bobbed up and down in anticipation as Zena explained the rules. We were each to take the cards and take turns to go around the circle and chant the phrase With these cards I hold three, I speak to the dead and summon thee. Then when the ghost rose it would speak only to someone who had witnessed death. 

I gripped my cards as each child recited the phrase and placed their cards down. We could be summoning my brother right now. I could finally talk to him and apologize for not holding him back. I gulped stale air and repeated my lines. 

“With these cards I hold three, I speak to the dead and summon thee,” 

A wavering blue light wafted us from the centre of the circle, it twisted and turned weaving itself into the hunched body of an old man. The figure floated translucently in the light of the room, unmoving despite the raucous calls of my peers. Then it turned its head and looked me right in the eye. His deep eye sockets held pools of fire burning with rage. A wispy hand pointed in my direction and the others fell silent. 

“You summon me boy?” whispered a soft voice. I looked around, the others hadn’t heard. After a curt nod, the ghost continued, 

“But I am not the one you want, am I right?” again I could only nod. Fear gripped my stomach, what was going to happen? 

“I,” whispered the ghost “can help you. Just throw your cards away and I will be free. I promise when you return home your brother will stand over your bed,” I gasped at the unfazed ghost, around me the other began to shout demanding I repeat what had been said to them. 

But this was a personal thing right, and it wasn’t like the ghost was going to do anything bad. Without hesitation, I shouted yes, startling Lucas and Zena, and flung my cards around the room. My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, I had done it, now what. 

The ghost's eyes glinted with malice and he unfurled from his fetal position. A sharp incline of his head was all I received before he lashed out at the small boy sitting opposite me. Screams filled the room and I fell back. The ghost was on a rampage, slicing at air and flesh with mad determination and drawing blood at the slightest touch. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted up the staircase. My arms pumped with furious vigour until I was clear of the house and into the night. Then the tears came. 

Sniffling and shuddering, I walked home, unlocked the door and dragged my feet to my bedroom. My hand froze above the doorknob, perhaps there was still hope for me to see Caldon again. 

A silvery figure turned as I shuffled inside. He had grown despite death and our similarities were more prominent than ever. I choked gasp escaped my throat, Caldons eyes widened. 

“Oh brother,” he whispered, “what have you done,”