October Short Story: Dying To Be Your Friend

     “Hi, my name is Timmy O’Malley. I ‘spose for an eight year old, I have some pretty tall tales to tell.” He pauses to lick some ice-cream which is melting down his cone and onto the sidewalk. “My gramps was an archeologist. He went all over the world digging up neat stuff. One day he brought a discovery home with him.” He pauses again to give his dog a taste of ice-cream. Timmy looks at you and then shakes his head as if to say you’re never going to belief this.

      It was an overcast autumn day. Timmy was home alone. While he played with his favorite action figures in his bunk bed, he heard a noise in the attic above him. An investigation was warranted. He switched on the light at the base of the stairs and walked up. Although the light was dim, he knew right where to go beside the only window. Sure enough, there was a plump mouse with half of its body in a mouse trap. He would take care of that. He reached for an empty Coke bottle and beat the mouse in the head until he was satisfied that it was dead.

“Ew gross!” he exclaimed as he tossed the bottle haphazardly.

He heard the crashing of glass when the bottle struck an old family photo that was framed. He ran over to inspect the damage.

“Oh, crap! I’m gonna get it for sure when mom and dad see this!”

Timmy scrambled to find old coats and blankets that he could hide the broken picture in. In doing so, Timmy discovered an old trunk that looked older than he was. He turned his attention to opening the trunk. Once the lid was open, he removed stacks of journals and maps. Timmy discovered the skeleton of a child in the bottom of the trunk that was wrapped in a hand woven blanket. A burial stone with intricate drawings on it was lying beside it.

“Woah, cool!”

Inside of the blanket there was a scroll. It looked like perhaps that his grandfather had taken notes on this old parchment from carvings at his archeological digs. One note in particular began by explaining that the little Peruvian boy’s name was Cezar. He was the son of an Aztec priestess. Cezar became fatally sick and died. His mother cast a spell over his corpse and gathered some objects to resurrect him. It was also noted that her people became extinct for reasons unknown.

Another of his notes was entitled How to Raise the Dead. There was a list of things needed to raise the dead:

·        Black candles

·        Incense

·        Blood

·        Singing bowl

·        Bark

·        String

·        Water

“Directions: light your candles and incense. Wet the bark with water. Place the bark on the string like a necklace on the corpse. Smear the blood on the head and the feet of the corpse. Finally, chant repeatedly into the singing bowl these words los muertos cobran vida.”

That was all that was written. Did his grandpa plan to resurrect this little skeleton? Did he die before he could perform it? He sat there surrounded by the contents of the trunk thinking it over. Then he decided he would finish what his grandpa had set out to do.

Timmy lifted the little skeleton, still wrapped in the blanket, and set it outside of the trunk. Next, he cleared a space to place the black candles and incense. His parents warned him about playing with matches, but he kept some in his back pocket. He found them useful for burning the ugly beetles he found in the garage. The candles were now lit while smoke curled nearby from the incense. Timmy found a big piece of bark that was already strung on a piece of string in a plastic bag. Since he had no water, he spit on the bark and proceeded to tie it around the skeleton’s neck. Blood was on the list. He walked over to the dead mouse. Using a scrap piece of paper, he scraped some blood off of the floor and smeared it on the skull and feet of the skeleton. As Timmy held the singing bowl in front of his face, he began to say the chant over and over.

There was a sudden rush of wind. The attic went dark. There was a strange rattling noise, almost like a wind chime made with…bones. Timmy struck another match to find himself face to face with Cezar. Timmy jumped backward in fright, but he was soon overcome with fascination.

“Hi, I’m Timmy. I don’t know if you can understand me, but I want to be your friend,” he said as he placed his hand on his own chest. Cezar mimicked the gesture. “That’s great! I bet you’re hungry after being in that trunk all this time.” After noticing that Cezar had no stomach he murmured, “But I see that you don’t have anywhere for your food to go. That’s okay. You can still come with me to the Dairy Queen.”

 Timmy helped Cezar down the attic stairs and into his bedroom where he dressed him in a T-shirt, Marvel Comics superhero pants, and a baseball hat. Off they went down the sidewalk in the direction of the Dairy Queen. All of the sudden a pack of neighborhood dogs surrounded little Cezar, pouncing on him all at once. The clothing flew in all directions as Timmy helplessly stood by watching. Each dog took a bone from Cezar which left him wiggling in the street with one arm attached to his head. Just then a huge Culligan water truck ran over what was left of Cezar and killed one of the dogs. Timmy was devastated. No one would believe this story. He proceeded to walk to the Dairy Queen to drown his sorrows with a large chocolate dipped ice-cream cone.

I wonder if that spell would work on a dead dog? he sighed.   

*****

 This short story is an entry into the October Skeletons contest for the Fiction Writers Guild on LinkedIn. The guidelines were 750 words that had to do with Skeletons, a tombstone and something impossible versus something possible. This story was later changed from a skeleton to a mummy boy, the plot lengthened, and the story was renamed "Curse of the Incan Mummies". It has been published in "31 Days of October" in 2016.