Uban Legend comes to life as three girls try to conjur up Bloody Mary.
|Three best friends sat upon mattresses spread out in the large attic of an antique house, munching on cheddar popcorn. As it neared eleven o’clock, the high school girls found that it was too early to sleep, as happens at most sleep-overs, and had decided to pass around an aged book, reading passages from it in the darkened room.|
Book in hand; the eldest girl flipped the pages gently, almost as lovingly as one might handle a precious family heirloom, so as not to rip them. ‘My sister says the ones that work are at the end. I watched her do one once.’ Pausing for effect, she stopped flipping and stared at the book very seriously. ‘It made her teacher pass out in the middle of class the next day.’
Bright blue eyes flashed over at her, Holly’s pure red hair framing her face as she looked up at her friend. ‘You mean some of these really do work?’
The older girl nodded her brunette head, closing her violet and green eyes solemnly, ‘Uh huh.’
Grinning, the book was taken by Jennie, her blonde head bent to examine each page. ‘Let’s find a good one, then.’ The three scooted closer together, peering at the ancient pages. Wonder after wonder they read, yet nothing appealed to them.
A dark head shot up from its bent position, looking about the room. The other two nearly held their breath in anticipation, gazing at one another questioningly. ‘What time is it?’
Holly pressed a button on her digital watch, the blue glow lighting up her face, creating strange contours upon it. ‘About eleven-thirty,’ A pause, gazing at her, ‘why?’
Slowly, a wild, wicked grin spread across her face. ‘Let’s summon her.’
Frowning, Jennie closed the book, running a hand through her hair, hazel eyes, narrowing. ‘Her who?’
‘She. The damned one—bloody Mary.’ A stillness filled the room. Thoughts of childhood ghost stories filled the others, of getting scared of campfire stories.
Holly finally spoke up after the awkward silence, speaking what they both had been thinking, ‘Awe, c’mon, that’s so sixth grade!’
‘Besides, you said that this book worked, and all you want to do is play “Bloody Mary?”’ Jennie piped in, cocking her head to once side.
The red head turned to the blonde, ‘Or maybe it doesn’t work and she doesn’t want to tell us.’ She pointed out.
Raising her hands, the eldest girl motioned for her comrades to calm down. 'It’s the belief in the spells that makes them work, not the book. If you want something to happen badly enough, it will happen.’ She paused, a knowing look upon her face, ‘Believe me.’
Jennie nodded, ‘Okay, go on.’
Grinning sadistically, she settled back in the blankets. ‘Every other group of girls has had trouble calling her, but that’s because they didn’t believe.’
Holly shifted uncomfortably in the sheets, frowning, ‘I donno guys.’
‘C’mon, it’s not like we’re gonna kill anything.’ Jennie pat her shoulder, the turned to the other girl, her features solemn. ‘What do we need?’
Mutely, the elder girl pulled out a notebook and a fountain pen, beginning to write in it. Soon, a short list of items was compiled and scrawled out on the page.
Three candles—One for each of us
A sharp knife
The elder girl shuffled quietly about the room as not to wake the rest of the house. In moments, the other two joined the search for the items listed. Soon the mattresses and blankets had all the materials scattered about, as they had been tossed lightly atop them. When they had finished, the eldest girl gathered the items up in her arms and brought them to the mirror standing tall in a corner, covered by a sheet, forgotten and alone. She set them on the floor, the other girls standing over her, watching every move in awe and interest.
First, she set up the candles, small fruit scented ones. The match book was produced and a blue spark glowed in the darkness. Lighting one, she handed the match to Holly who did the same and in turn handed it off to Jennie, who extinguished the match when they had finished. When this was done, they stepped back to observe her. The brunette placed the lights in a triangle form in the right hand corner, and soon the room smelt of flame and sweetness. She stood up from her crouched position, hunting knife in hand, leaving the match book to lie next to the candles. Gently, she pulled the white sheet off the looking glass, letting flutter to the floor to be left in a rumpled pile. Turning to face the girls, she held the knife out to them. ‘Take it. Cut your finger.’ They looked to each other warily. This was not what they remembered of the game as children, but she seemed confident in what she was doing. She stared back, eyes aglow in severity. Gingerly, Jennie grasped the weapon laying in the elder girl’s palm. She nodded in approval, as the blonde held the knife in hand.
Wincing, Jennie held up the knife to her left pointer finger, cutting a small slit in it. The ruby spilt out all over her finger and dripped onto the floor. ‘Write her name.’ The brunette pointed to the mirror. Watching the blood run out, Jennie stepped forward in the candle glow, approaching the mirror. Soon the letters appeared:
Her finger still gushed fourth blood. The elder girl turned about to fish through a drawer of a near by abandoned dresser. This was followed by a ripping sound, and she produced a scrap of cloth, wrapping it about Jennie’ finger. She tied off, kissing it. ‘All better.’ Jennie looked back, giving a small smile. The brunette grinned, cocking her head. She took the knife from the younger girl, then turned to Holly. She held out the blade. ‘You do the same.’
The red head hesitated a moment, glancing at Jennie who nodded in return. Gripping the handle, she in turn cut herself and wrote.
The bleeding finger was tied and kissed. The knife held steadily in the elder girl’s left hand, she slitting the pointer finger all the way down to the palm, the blood pouring out onto the wood of the floor, mingling with the ruby of her friends’. She approached the mirror and repeated the writing.
The blood was covering her arms now, running down from the finger, covering her white nightgown. ‘Now to call her.’ She glanced at her friends who stood on either side of her, poised, waiting for it to begin. Breathing in, they began in one voice, echoing slightly in the attic, the sound bouncing off darkened walls.
At this point, any lingering doubts that this may have been simply a game were chased away, for the mirror began to change its appearance. A fine mist filled its surface, swirling in strange and eerie shapes. A figure began to materialize in it, first ghostly, then more clearly. When her face became visible, the two girls beside her went powder white. In fear, they fell to the floor.
But she still remained. The brunette stared at her reflection in the mirror. Stepping up to the glass, she placed her bleeding palm onto the mirror. The girl in the mirror did likewise. ‘Hello, Mary.’ Their voiced spoke as one. She grinned wickedly. Her reflection sneered back. ‘Finally, we are free.’ The reflection sneered back. ‘Finally, we are free.’ The reflection echoed back. She nodded.
‘Free to taste blood again.’ Laughing sadistically, the reflection disappeared into her hand. It dropped to her side, leaving a bloody hand print. Slowly, she turned about, glaring down coldly at the two girls lying unconscious on the floor, raising the knife. ‘Mary always has her way.’