The Golden Curse by K.L.Patrick

"But just as her hand reached him, she too had become a golden statue."

 Jeremy took a deep breath and looked at his daughter, Faye. She was on a ventilator, but they say those in a coma can still hear. That's why he had been reading her favorite story to her. Jeremy looked away. He couldn't bear to see her, his only daughter, in such a shape. Bandages covered her face, and both arms were in casts. The sound of the ventilator was deafening, along with her irregular heart coming through the monitor. Each beep pierced his heart. The I/v stood like a monolith over her, and there was an old television bolted to the wall directly in front of Faye's bed. It was on mute, and from the angle that Jeremy sat, he could see that the local news was on. To his dismay, they were reporting on the car wreck. The wreck that brought his world crashing down.

Jeremy looked away, his gaze falling into the hallway. He was in the ICU unit. The oversized door stood open in front of him. He could see the nurses' station down the hall and a couple of women sitting typing on their computers, drinking coffee, or talking. Next to the door was a small curtain that could block out the outside world, a sink, and a bathroom. Jeremy looked back at Faye. He gripped her index finger on her right hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before taking her panda blanket and pulling it up to her chin. He stared at her for a moment before tears formed in his eyes when he heard a voice, he didn't recognize from behind him, but he couldn't make out what the voice said.

"What?" He asked as he turned, rivers running down his face. He couldn't make out the person in front of him, but he could see the shape of a clipboard and maybe a doctor's coat. Jeremy wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. His vision focused, revealing a tall doctor. He had a mass of black hair and half-moon spectacles sitting upon his tiny nose in front of his chocolate-colored eyes.

"Mr. Lorn?" The doctor asked.

"No," Jeremy said, standing up to shake his hand. "Jeremy Devlin; her mother changed her name after the divorce."

"I see." The doctor stared at Jeremy for a moment, avoiding the handshake. "Mr. Devlin, my name is Dr. Wilkins. Can I speak to you in the hall?" Jeremy felt his stomach drop, but he nodded and followed the doctor.

"Mr. Devlin, do you know why your daughter is here?"

"Yes," Jeremy said,

"I'll go over it, anyway. Your ex-wife and daughter were in a fatal car wreck. A head-on collision with a tree that ejected Jessica Lorn, killing her instantly. Faye was unconscious. Luckily, she had her seat belt on. She got to the hospital around 11 P.M. She had coded once on her way in, and they revived her. She has two broken arms and severe bruising on her abdomen. "

"I knew most of that," Jeremy responded. Dr. Wilkins nodded and continued.

"We took her to get x- rays and a C-T scan. We thought we were in the clear at first, but… She has internal bleeding. Her ribs are shattered, and the splinters have punctured some vital organs. We need to do immediate surgery to save her life."

"Then do the surgery," Jeremy replied. "Is that what you came for, my consent?"

"Yes, and no. I also wanted to inform you of an issue."

"What's?" Dr. Wilkins interrupted before he could finish.

"She doesn't have any insurance." Jeremy couldn't believe what he was hearing. When did she lose it? He thought.

"She's fourteen."

"I know she is, but her mother had no insurance for either of them. Do you happen to?"

"No, I don't. Lord above, Jessica was supposed to put her on her insurance after I lost my job…." Jeremy felt heat enter his cheeks as his anger seared at his ex-wife, but he stopped himself from raving.

"Since she doesn't have insurance, we can't operate without a down payment."

"A down payment?" Jeremy said through gritted teeth. " You gotta be kidding me."

"No, we cannot help her without it." Doctor Wilkins replied. Jeremy stood in thought for a moment.

"How much do you need?" "I only have three hundred dollars." Jeremy muttered to himself. Doctor Wilkins took notice but didn't reply.

"1500 dollars." There is no way he could get that much money tonight, but what choice do I have? Jeremy thought. "Okay, I'll find the money," Jeremy said, his voice relented.

"Be quick because the more time wasted, the less likely we can save her." The doctor turned and walked back into the room to check on Faye. Jeremy stood in a daze until the doctor passed him again before turning and disappearing down the hall. Jeremy walked back in and looked down at his daughter. How can I save her? He thought before he looked down at his hand. On his left hand, he still wore his gold wedding ring. He wore it every day despite the divorce. She was the love of his life, but he couldn't dwell on that. He had his daughter to think of.

 Then an idea burst into his mind. The Blue Pawn was just down the street. Yes, it's perfect; this ring would surely get him a thousand, and then he would almost have enough. He leaned down and kissed Faye's forehead.

"You'll be okay, sweet pea," Jeremy said. He then left, stopping only once in the doorway to take another look at her.

***

A bell over the door rang as Jeremy entered the Blue Pawn. The shop was grubby and had multiple lights flickering over the display cases. The lights buzzed loudly with each flicker. Jeremy looked around, and there seemed to be no one in there. Around him, in the shape of an L, were glass showcases he was sure had not been cleaned in years. He could see countless handprints and rust that covered the pieces of metal that connected the pieces of glass. The cases contained watches, rings, guns, and pistols, all without price tags. Behind the counter was another case that held various rifles, and beside that hung different musical instruments, all covered in dust. The floor looked as if it hadn't been swept, and Jeremy could see whopper wrappers and candy spread across the floor. Cobwebs swept down from the ceiling to the doors and counters. The place was disgusting.

 He then spotted the sign that gave him hope. It flashed in red letters saying WE BY GOLD. The spelling was atrocious, but his heart lifted at the sight, and he approached the counter. There was a little silver desk bell on the counter with a sign that said ring FOUR TIMES 4 HELP; Spelling isn't the specialty here, Jeremy thought as he rang the bell four times. He heard a ruckus behind the door-marked office. Then it opened, and a bald man with a shrimpy-looking face, covered in deep wrinkles, appeared. His dark eyes were those of a man who drank too much or needed sleep.

"What can I help you with? You're lucky I'm open until one." The pawn man smiled. His crooked, yellow teeth seemed to gleam. He wore a nametag that said Darr-Lee.

"I wanted to pawn this Darr-Lee." Jeremy removed the ring from his finger and handed it to the man. Darrell examined the ring for a long time before he put it down.

" It's Darrell… How much ya want for it?" The pawn man asked as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and smoked.

"A grand." Darrell blew a smoke ring into Jeremy's face before he laughed.

"Ain't gonna get that here. I'll give yah a hundred."

"Only a hundred?" Jeremy stared at the crusty man in front of him before he stammered. "Why?"

"Ain't genuine gold. It's plated, and only just…." Darrell said without an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

"It was my grandfather's."

"Then he had a fake, didn't he?" Hearing this, Jeremy's blue eyes compressed, his face contorted as the tears began. He sobbed, letting all his built-up anguish escape from every pore of his being.

"But I need the money!" He yelled with tears stinging his eyes.

"Everyone does, buddy. It ain't just you." The tears streamed down Jeremy's face. "Okay, okay." The man said, flinging his arms up like a defense. Jeremy looked up at him. "I can give yah a hundred and fifty. That's the highest I can go. How about that?" Jeremy stared and nodded his head as he wiped his eyes. It is a start, Jeremy thought as he regained control of himself.

"Thank you, sir." Darrell made the ring disappear and produced a single hundred-dollar bill and a fifty.

"Don't spend it all in one place. Now get on out of here. I close in twenty minutes." Jeremy thanked Darrell again and left the shop. He had four hundred and fifty dollars in total. A full grand fifty left to get. Jeremy felt sorrow rising into a scream.

 He let out a primal yell in frustration before dropping to the sidewalk and bawling again. He pounded his fists against the ground and felt the concrete tear into his hands. Before slumping down with his head knocking into the concrete, his blue eyes almost wholly diminished; he couldn't handle losing everything again. Jeremy screamed into the night, raising his head like a wolf howling at the moon. He continued to scream until a louder voice pulled him from his grief.

"Sir, ain't cha a bit ole for a tantrum." A gruff voice said. The voice startled Jeremy out of his sorrowful anguish. It took a second for him to find where it came from. He scanned the darkness and saw a man standing in the middle of the intersection. "Cat gotcha tung son, come on ova har an elp me cross da ro." Before he knew it, he had an old man, clad in rags and a bright orange stocking cap, leaning against him as they crossed back towards The Blue Pawn. When they arrived in front of it, the man leaned against the pawnshop wall.

"Thank yah very much, sonny. Few people would elp an omeless man dis late in the nigh."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Now, let me ask yah somethin. Why in da world were yah screaming into da night?" Jeremy was cautious initially, but something about the old man's blue eyes calmed him.

"My daughter is in the hospital, and she ain't doing well… she needs surgery, but I don't have the money to pay," Jeremy explained.

"An da man in there wouldn't give yah much?"

"Only a hundred and fifty…." The man cackled, making Jeremy's temper flare into his cheeks."Dat man in there ain't gotta lick of sense."

 "He seemed nice enough, and sir…." Jeremy stopped and thought this man could use the money. Then he decided. "Would you take this money? You need it more than me." The old man cackled again and seemed to light up. Jeremy could now make out the most beautiful blue eyes and felt no anger.

 "I don't nee no money, sonny. I got somethin better. I got tha gift, and fer your help, I'll share it with yah." Before Jeremy could protest, the old man seized his hand with his calloused, leather-like ones. A glow radiated out of his hands when the man let go of it. Jeremy saw a small silver ring.

 "This ere will elp yah. All yah need. Now touch tha ring with yer fangertips." Jeremy did as he was told, and to his astonishment, the silver morphed into gold, as if it had been dunked in the stuff, except in reverse.

 "My gift is yers now. Whatever ya touch will turn ta gold, except fer these gloves." The old man handed him an old weathered pair of leather gloves. That seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Put these on and don't take em off. But don'cha worry, the gift don't work on the livin, only non-livin. Ain't like King Midas. When you're done with da gift, warsh your hands, and all will be well." Jeremy nodded and thanked the man.

 "Betta, get into the stow before it's all closed up." The man then moved down the alleyway next to the pawnshop. Jeremy clutched the ring in his right hand. Before slipping on the gloves. He took one last look down the alley. The man had disappeared., but he didn't give it a second thought because he had little time. Jeremy re-entered The Blue Pawn.

 Darrell was walking towards the door and almost bumped into Jeremy as he opened it.

"Yer back?" The pawn man asked. A look of confusion fell across his face.

"Yes, I found this." Jeremy pulled out a solid gold ring and held it before the pawnman's face.

 "Where did ya find it?" Darrell asked as he took the ring from Jeremy's gloved hand.

 "It was outside on the ground, and I ain't gonna go looking for the owner this late at night." Darrell didn't blame him for that and gave him two thousand dollars after an examination. Jeremy thanked him and rushed back to the hospital.

***

Once at the hospital, he paid the fifteen hundred dollars. Jeremy quickly went to Faye's room and caught her as she was heading to the O.R.

 Three hours later, the nurses rolled Faye back into the room. She was still unconscious; Dr. Wilkins came in after her. Jeremy looked at the solemn man with hope.

"She did well, Mr. Devlin; her condition was better than we thought, so we could fix most of the lacerations throughout her intestines. She should live."

"Thank god!" Jeremy exclaimed, bounding to his feet to hug the doctor. "When will she wake?"

"In the next thirty minutes or so. Remember, Faye will still be weak for a while; she might not answer your questions or talk." With that, Doctor Wilkins said goodbye and left. Jeremy then remembered the rest of the expense of the surgery. He sees a pen on the table, as well as a remote. He hoped these two small pieces would be worth enough. Jeremy slipped off one glove and touched each, and they turned to gold.

Time to get rid of the gift, he thought as he walked over to the sink, took off the other glove, and washed his hands in the warm water with soap. He could see the gold swirling down the drain. Gold tendrils just swirling into the darkness. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Jeremy's gaze moved up towards the mirror. He saw himself for the first time in a long time. His once vibrant blonde hair was greasy from being unwashed. Its former shine gone. His face was creased, and he had a two-week beard growing. It was full of gray. Then there were his eyes. That scared him the most; his formerly gray eyes were gold. As he continued to wash his hands, the gold seemed to fade, all the light gone from his eyes.

Jeremy heard a rustle from behind him that broke him from his trance. Jeremy whirled around and saw his daughter's green eyes looking at him. He didn't cut off the sink nor dry his hands as he rushed over to her.

"Faye, I'm so glad yer okay." He pulled her close and stroked her hair. As Jeremy stroked her brown locks. He saw strains of gold whirl out of the spot his hand first touched. In horror, Jeremy watched as the gold ate at her brown hair. Swirling into it before moving to the root. Gold seeped out of every pore on her face. Like sweat, it ran down her face. Faye screamed, and golden tears ran down her rosy cheeks. Slowly, the gold welled out of her mouth like vomit, slipping over her entire body.

The realization came to Jeremy's face as he stood. "No." He muttered as he tried to stop it, hoping that if he touched her again, it would stop, but it only increased the speed at which the gold took over. Faye had become a statue of gold. Jeremy screamed. His eyes bulged as he yelled into the ether. He fell backward onto the floor, and gold sprayed through the room, every inch becoming painted in gold. Jeremy regained his feet, ran back towards Faye, and hugged her cold, heavy body, tears streaming down his face. A look of anguish etched onto her face forever.

***

The night nurse Daphne heard screaming from down the hall. She jumped to her feet and ran through the sterile, barely lit hallway. Around her, the other nurses had jumped to action as well. They arrived at room five of the ICU around the same time. They looked in and saw Mr. Devlin holding his daughter in a room of glittering gold.

Beneath the Maple Tree by K. L. Patrick

It didn’t start how people said it would. There weren’t any flashes of light or an ominous feeling. No sense of drawing to the house. The house I bought was ordinary; Completely and totally ordinary. No rumors, nor was it known as the local spook house. It was a fixer-upper; it was normal as could be... Till it wasn’t.

The house had stood for more than a hundred years. A farmhouse without a farm. It sat about half a mile off Dusty Rock Road. It was in what the locals call a “holler”. Two immense oak trees framed the house. A vast, dead maple stood alone in a field about a hundred yards to the house’s right.

I moved into the house in early fall. The leaves were just changing color; the house was like something out of a Van Gogh painting; so bright and full of color. I drove my truck to the sound of the last of the birds chirping as I crunched down the driveway. I put the car into park, parallel to the front door. The house rose high above me. It stared at me with blank, long dead eyes, but nothing unusual. The house had a similar architecture to the Amityville horror house, but there was never any fear. It was normal. I approached the front door and went to turn the old crystalline doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Crap, the key...” I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past nine in the morning. The realtor wouldn’t be here till ten. I walked towards the back of the house. The porch had a missing handrail, and the window that looked into the kitchen was in pieces. Towards the brush, behind the house, was an old shed. The roof had caved in, but the door remained intact.

I opened the door, which squawked into the crisp fall air. I grimaced at the sound. Inside, it was pitch black. Almost darker than night, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was looking back at me. I quickly closed the door and made my way back to the front of the house just as John, my realtor, arrived. 

He was a thick man, with a huge red mustache, and slicked back hair to match. He approached me without saying a word, handed me my key, then turned to head back to his convertible.

“Hey, aren’t yah going to show me around?” I asked. 

He turned to look at me and smiled a big salesman smile. 

“Too busy, gotta go.” He said in his thick southern accent. He jumped in his car and sped away, slinging up gravel. I probably should’ve realized then he knew something I didn’t.

A few months passed, and I made the house my own. As I was renovating, I found gifts from previous occupants. Mainly in the walls, probably because of mice bringing them in, I figured. A rose petal, an old toy car, and, lastly, a box tucked between two beams in the kitchen ceiling. The box was filled to the brim with old photos. A chill cut through the house, despite the heat being on, and I shivered.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. That’s when it started, right? Wrong. The house remained normal. I sat the box aside and continued to do my work and didn’t pick the photos up again for another month or two. When I did, the images fascinated me. They were of a happy family. A mother, a father, a baby, and a young girl. Every photo was taken beneath the maple in the field. 

I stepped out into the fall air and made my way the one hundred feet to the maple. A chill pierced through the warmth of the day as I stood where they had stood. I touched the tree and closed my eyes. When I opened them, the world had turned black and white. Something tugged at my elbow. I suppressed a scream, not because I was scared, but because it was so weird. I blinked, and hoped color would return to the world, but it didn’t. Fog crept out of the grass, moving upward toward the sky. 

I have never seen that before.

 The fog took shape, and before I knew it, the family from the photo stood in front of me with their backs to me. Each of their heads turned one by one with a sickening creak so they were facing me. Father, mother, daughter, and last, the baby. They didn’t turn like an average person does. Their heads rotated a hundred and eighty degrees. Their cold eyes stabbed at me and the baby spoke with the voice of a ten-year-old boy. 

“Help.” He said.

 The universe flashed black, and the color slowly returned to the world around me.

 I fell.

 I awoke from my daze laid at the foot of the maple. I jumped to my feet and ran back to the house and into the kitchen, despite having been out for some time. 

The door slammed behind me as I walked in, and I jumped. Wind blew through the house, and it caught the photos. One by one, they flipped into the air. As they did, the baby and little girl grew while the parents aged. All the photos were taken in front of the maple tree. The wind stopped, and I looked at the last photo as it floated into my hand, and only saw the mother, father, and daughter. 

What happened to the son? 

Something scraped behind me, and when I turned around, the magnetic letters on the fridge were moving on their own. Until they spelled the word “flip” and stopped. I flipped the photo over. Taped to the back of the photo was a newspaper clipping from 1920 that read “Child missing.” It said he went out to play in the woods outside of his house and disappeared. A chill ran through me once more. Something grabbed me and gently pushed me back out of the kitchen door, towards the shed behind the house. The sun fell behind the mountains and there wasn’t much time left until dark.

I opened the door, and despite the darkness, I saw an old rusty shovel which I grabbed. The shovel was in my left hand as I walked toward the tree. Icy air encapsulated my right hand. Despite my shock from the feeling, I kept moving until I stood in the same spot from the photo. When I got there, the hand let go of mine, and I approached the tree. A tiny hand tugged at my arm, and a small voice whispered “here” in my ear after I stepped back a few feet.

Blindly, I dug. The deeper the hole got, the colder my body became, until I hit something that sounded like a rock. It was hard enough that it bent the tip of the shovel. I threw it away and dug with my hands till two empty eye sockets stared back up at me. I had punched a hole in a casket. The cold let go of me, and a single whisper came.

“Help.” 

I screamed and ran back to the house to call 911.

The police arrived and questioned me. I couldn’t explain to them why I dug there; I just knew I needed to. They exhumed the body and promised me they would give him a proper burial and try to learn his name. After they left, I went back to the house and entered the kitchen. Startled, I almost leaped out of my skin when a small boy appeared in the room. I recognized him immediately as the boy from the photos. He walked up to me and embraced me. 

Cold filled every pore of my body, but no malice. Just cold. He thanked me and slowly dissipated in my arms. I cried into the night as the icy air took over. He was gone; I knew he had left. His spirit left when he dissolved in my arms, but I still wanted to find his story. To find his relatives. Not just to bring closure, but to bring hope. The effect the spirit had on me will last till the day I die. To my last breath, he and the experience will never leave me.