Eddie sat at his dining room table and stared at the letter from Frankie. He had read it over and over again so many times that he could recite it without even having to look at it.
Eddie,
I know this is a strange request, but please just read through the letter. I need you to put together a spell and cast it at exactly midnight on October 17, 1984. All of the directions and ingredients are below.
- Frankie Walker
P.S. Please don’t tell my daughters about this. Thank you.
The list of ingredients had been fairly harmless. In truth, Eddie probably could’ve picked them all up from the holistic aisle at the grocery store.
It was the way in which Frankie had instructed Eddie how to use the ingredients to perform the spell that stuck out to Eddie the most. It was as if Frankie knew all about the occult. Like he had actively practiced it. Either he was into some weird stuff that he kept hidden, or this whole thing really was the world’s biggest joke being played out on Eddie. He wondered if someone was peeking in his windows and having a good laugh.
Nervously, Eddie looked over his shoulder and out the window. Dusk was setting in, casting a gray, hazy hue over the whole neighborhood. But there was no one even out walking, let alone peeping in his windows. No cars passing by. The neighboring houses were dark.
He was all alone.
The postscript also stuck out to Eddie. Why wouldn’t Frankie want him to tell his daughters about the letter? Sure, it made sense that he would want to protect them, but why wouldn’t he ask them for help? If Frankie was involved in the occult, presumably his daughters were as well. Unless they didn’t know about it. But then again, neither did Eddie. Why would he ask someone who was basically a stranger and not his own daughters? Something wasn’t adding up.
Getting up, Eddie grabbed the phone from the wall and extended the cord to his seat at the dining room table. He stared at the number pad as he considered whether he should make the call or not.
Finally, he decided that he should and punched in the number from memory.
“Thank you for calling Erie Homes and Realty,” a woman’s voice said on the other end. “Our offices are currently closed. If you know your party’s extension, you may dial it at any time to leave a voicemail. If not, please stay on the line to listen to the following options.”
Eddie pulled the phone from his face and was about to get up to hang it up, but thought twice and returned the phone to his ear. He listened to the woman’s voice list all of the real estate agents and their extensions, but Frankie wasn’t listed. After being prompted with another lift of options, Eddie hit the “9” button to listen to the menu again, but Frankie’s name was never stated.
Huh, Eddie wondered. Maybe Frankie moved on to another agency. Either that, or he got his job back at the city.
He got up and returned the phone to the cradle on the wall.
Popping open the fridge, his hand hovered over a can of beer that looked particularly tasty, but his better judgment ruled out and he chose a can of pop instead.
His teeth may rot and his belly might grow, but at least he’d be sober to experience it.
Eddie had every intention to plop on the chair in front of the TV, but the letter sitting on the dining room table caught his eye again. It was a physical reminder of Frankie Walker.
Even though their encounter with each other had been fairly brief, the two of them had struck up a mutual respect for one another. Frankie was new to his job as a realtor, sure, but he was a dedicated family man. And he tried. Eddie respected him for that. So the thought of him needing help and possibly being separated from his daughters weighed on Eddie’s mind.
Frankie had reached out for help. Eddie couldn’t just ignore that.
With a sigh, Eddie nodded to himself. He had made up his mind. Whether or not this was a joke, he needed to try to talk to Frankie in person. That was the only way he was going to be able to get this out of his head.