An Ex's Hex

C8 : An Ex's Hex

"Hello" the shaky voice tried to calmly knock on the vague but mountainous door in front of him. "Hello."

"I'll be right there" a cheery sounding voice echoed from behind the door. After a couple streams of what sounded like hurried arrangements emanated from behind the door, it slowly creaked open, but the figure behind, seemed not be too fond of looking eyeball to eyeball with strangers. "Hello there, how may I be of service?"

Trying to sneak a peek out of the shy sounding man, the visitor spoke up. "I came to see Jacob. Jacob Fackler." At the mention of those words, a spine-chilling flow of blood seemed to coarse through the veins of both men. The door hurriedly closed, and before the visitor could even try to get another word in, it'd been slammed back harder than a drunk husband on his helpless wife.

He tried banging the door open. Even if for a second, he could get a couple more words in, all to no avail. "Fuck." He turned around, backing the door, picked up the slip of paper in his purple jacket, rumpled it up, and threw it just across the lawn. "Either Chris gave me the wrong address or I just…"

"...stepped on the wrong fucking foot", a deep, different voice echoed right behind the unwelcome visitor. He tried to turn back to look eye to eye with a voice he seemed to temporarily remember, but his moves were immediately halted by the cock of a gun, and chilling feeling of brain-hungry lead waiting to devour a victim. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your fucking head off right now".

"Is that you?", the visitor asked shakily. "I can forget a face but never a voice" He pitched.

"Wrong answer…"

"Okay wait. Wait" he said throwing up his hands. "You have no reason whatsoever to spare my life right now, but I promise you, you'll want to hear this."

"And why in scorching hell would you think that?"

After a couple seconds of hesitation, he spoke up. "It's about Michelle."

The cold, torturing breeze stilled every drooling emotion for what seemed like a number of minutes, but in reality, was only a couple seconds.

"Turn around" the dark voice murkily said.

Counting his steps, the visitor slowly turned back, and on fixing his gaze on the murky character with a gun in hand, he came to one shocking realization. "It is you", he said, his voice coated with fear.

The tall but somehow still concealing figure stepped out a little and allowed the brisk morning sun to do its job of brightening up a ray of darkness. But some things just aren't meant for the light.

In a deep, chilling voice he said, "This better be worth it."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()())

Without question only two things are for sure. Life and death. But all those sayings, idioms, you know, smart people stuff, they're all just words on paper. Until they become the inevitable reality. And that inevitable reality was the knife edge that suspended everyone in Exasthen.

The slow harmonious rhythm from the Grand Piano sitting in the corner of the room drowned all the attendants of the funeral reception in heaven-like reminiscing. Almost everyone in the town of Exasthen was invited to the funeral reception of Mr. David Lautner, rich and poor alike. At first glance it seemed to be a social gathering where the rich would mingle and the middle-class would scorn their every move, but after a couple more looks, maybe it just appeared that way, because it was that way.

"So sorry for your loss Mrs. Lautner", said a smartly dressed female figure just a couple steps behind Mrs. Lautner.

"He was a good man" another not so spunky character interrupted.

"Thank you. Thank you all", she said in a loud but fatigue covered voice, referring to everyone in attendance. "He loved and served each and every one of us in the place we call home", she continued, walking towards the stage set up in the middle of the room with a glass of wine in hand. "He was a father, a husband, but above all, a…", the tears forming in eyes temporarily incapacitated her, "a good soul", she continued. "But most of all a good fucking soul", she echoed in dramatic fashion. "So, I propose a toast", she said raising her glass head high. "To his legacy. The legacy of a true man. Cheers".

"Cheers", the entire room echoed.

Slowly coming down the stage, she was swarmed by a number of people either giving their condolences, or exchanging warm pleasantries. Up until, "My sincere Condolences Mrs. Lautner", a cold, chilling voice said while stretching out his veiny hand.

She stared at him for a while. Probably much longer than necessary, seeming to judge him way deeper than the nebulous attire he had on. His eyes were chiseled black shewing little to no emotion. His demeanor was dark, too dark, and this was a funeral.

"He was a good man", he said, jolting her back into consciousness.

"Yeah he was", she said in a voice that was soaked in curiosity. "Have, Have I met you before?" she hesitantly asked.

Devilishly smirking, "Yeah, I'm J", he said, gesturing back to his hand that had been stretched out for quite a while now. "We were classmates back in the 6th grade."

"You know that's quite odd", she said shaking him, "You look almost half my age."

"Well looks can be deceiving."

The Up and down movement of their rather uncomfortable handshake came to an abrupt end. She stared in his eyes, trying to find something, anything that would give any explanation to what was definitely not the first meeting between the two. Squinting her eyes, she said in cat-like curiosity, "Who are you?" His facial expression quickly turned from unreasonable grinning, to discomforting anger. He tightened his grip on her hands, slowly drawing her closer and said as if it was a line out of a horror movie, "It will all come together very, very soon"

()()())(()()())(()(())()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

.

"And then he disappeared".

"What do you mean he disappeared Mrs. Lautner, he couldn't just vani-".

"Do you think I'm making this up Jones?", she interrupted in a far from polite manner. "Or do you think this is a joke. A couple days after my husband's inexplicable death, which by the way, none of you have been able to figure out…", she said pointing to him and the trembling female officer sitting on the vague black chair by the window just behind Jones, "…some random guy shows up at his funeral reception and you won't do anything about it?

"Don't get this wrong Mrs. Lautner but we don't-"

"You don't what Jones? You don't what?" she interjected, sounding even angrier this time. She placed her finger on her lips as if to tame what she would say next, forcing herself to speak calmer and continued, "You will bring him in for questioning and you will not for a second, ever question my authority again. Is that clear? She said looking at him with unquestionable fury.

Jones let out a sigh, picked up a notebook on the desk beside him and then mumbled in irritation, "wouldn't be surprised if your husband committed suicide."

"What did you say?"

"What did he look like", he said louder with more irritation.

"Well he had a-".

"You don't need to get his description Jones", the female officer behind him said standing up from her chair but still endlessly looking at her desk.

"Excuse me Ma'am? We have to-"

"I said you don't need to get his description Jones". She plummeted back into her seat and slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Stealing a glance at Mrs. Lautner, she said regrettably said,

"You don't need to get his description because I, I know who he is. I saw him too"

"What do you mean you know he is? He's a stranger that came out of the blues, and then disappeared. Right?", he walked closer to her desk, slowly putting his hands on the numerous documents scattered across the table and repeated in a calm voice, "Right?"

She stared at the ground for a while, then looked through the room and finally locked eyes with Officer Jones. Abruptly getting up from the chair, she faced the window behind her, crossing her hands behind her back and said, "That stranger, Jones…", she paused for a while, and then said under her breath, "…is my husband. Ex-husband."

"What?",

"Excuse me?", echoed Mrs. Lautner. "Well this day just keeps on getting better and better, doesn't it? She said, throwing on a sarcastic smile. First, some "guy", she said gesturing with her fingers, "shows up at my late husband's reception, and now you're telling me that he's your ex-husband?" she said getting noticeably getting angrier. "You better give me a Goddamn-"

"Mrs. Lautner", interrupted Jones, blocking her from trying to get any closer to Shelby. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. We've heard your story and we won't hesitate to get on top of it as soon as possible. But for now, you and your story are no longer needed.

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Lautner carelessly said.

"Are you kicking me-"

"I won't repeat myself again ma'am. Either you leave, or we're going to have to continue this conversation from opposite sides of cold and torturing steel bars".

They stared endlessly into each other's eyes, no one breaking eye contact for seconds on end, until finally Mrs. Lautner said, "you win for now Jones, and you to Shelby", she said picking her brown, buffed handbag from the chair a couple feet in front of her. "But I'll be back, and by then, you better have answers. Both of You". She walked up to the door, opening and slamming it behind her in equal ferociousness.

Jones let out a sigh of relief and said, slowly turning back, "talk about being stuck in between a rock and a har—", fully turned back, he realized Shelby, wasn't there. "Ma'am. Ma'am", he said, frantically looking for her, around the office as if she was one of the lenses on his dark, tainted glasses.

"Sh—", the window she was sitting in front of suddenly caught his eye. He walked closer, looked through the window, and saw her frail, fragile figure running to the parking lot, a stone's throw from the station. Slowly turning back to her desk, he mumbled to himself, "The hell is going on?"