Chapter 5

BEFORE

2003

She was crying and a part of him understood why. She was about to lose her life, to lose her soul, even if she didn’t know it yet.

She was searching for a bucket. She wanted to wipe her hands. The shadows told him this as he hid behind a tree. Azban held onto the harsh, scratchy bark with both of his dead hands. The hands he had stolen. He peeped his head out, right in the open, to the side. He watched her as his black eyes turned back to the color blue.

Phoebe glanced around her, worriedly, as she realized what she had done. She had run away from school.

But why?

Because she had messed herself.

But she didn’t understand, no matter how many answers to her questions she received from that unsetting voice in her head, Azban could no longer bend her will. He started to panic.

“Hello!” her tiny voice called out and it was louder than he expected. “Can anybody hear me?”

He hoped so, only so he could eat this time.

He sucked in a deep breath, almost annoyed that he had to act again, and stepped out.

Phoebe paused when she saw the boy. He was dirty, very dirty, and he looked like the hungry kids she sometimes saw in the streets beside their poor mothers. He looked to be the age of the kids in the grade higher than her, those aged 6- the ones who thought they owned the world.

She thought she might know him but he was in a uniform she didn’t recognize, one that was torn and stained. He didn’t have any shoes on and the sight made her shiver as she imagined how cold he must surely have been feeling. His blond hair blew along with the wind, in several directions, making him appear wilder than he looked. Phoebe hoped she didn’t look like as dirty as he did.

Phoebe sniffled as the boy took a few shy steps closer towards her. His innocent eyes reminded her of her own. He looked scared, tired, hungry; everything she currently was.

She leaned against the red brick of the well and waited for him to speak.

When he didn’t say anything, just continued to watch her shyly, she sighed. He had probably been told, much like her, not to talk to strangers.

“Are you lost?” Phoebe tried.

The boy took a minute but he shook his head no.

“Do you know where we are?” she asked, hopeful.

When he nodded, she didn’t know why she wanted to cry.

“Can you show me the way?”

When he spoke, she was startled by how confident he sounded. His frail voice spoke softly to her but his words seemed to echo throughout the valley they were in.

“For a price.”

She didn’t have anything, didn’t own anything, but she assumed he would maybe want a dollar or a sweet.

Surely her parents would reward him for showing her the way, she didn’t doubt it one bit when she nodded vigorously. Azban stifled the grin that threatened to spread over his dead face. He took a step forward and extended his hand. In the center of his palm was one quarter.

Phoebe frowned at the coin in the boy’s hand.

If he had money, then what did he want from her?

“I just came for the Wishing Well,” he said, answering her question.

What Phoebe didn’t know was that the Shadows were whispering all her thoughts to him, aiding him as always; they were in debt to his master.

“But I don’t know what to wish for.”

Phoebe smiled for the first time since her fall. She closed the space between her and the boy and grabbed his coin. Together, they slowly walked over the Autumn leaves that had flooded over the ground beneath their feet towards the well.

It was an old well. One that had been worn out over the years, by harsh wind or bad treatment by animals and humans- she couldn’t tell. There was water inside of it, she could hear its ripples tinkling now and again from the gusts of the wind as it blew the leaves down to the bottom.

“It’s easy!” she said. “What about a toy car? Or a new house? Or a pet puppy?”

The boy shook his head after every suggestion was made.

Phoebe bit her lip anxiously.

What would a boy possibly want?

“You’ve gotta do it,” he said, quickly.

He stared at her with desperate eyes, as though he would die if she didn’t. And truly, he would.

“Is this what you want?” she asked.

Azban nodded.

“You promise to take me home?”

I’ll take you somewhere, alright.

Azban nodded, again.

They stood at the broken edge of the red brick and she could see just how large the well was. It was dark and covered in forks of moss that had grown over the years. She couldn’t see the bottom of the well. From her angle, there was nothing inside it but darkness. An unforgettable and hollow pit of darkness.

She forgot what she was doing.

Azban quickly poked Phoebe lightly on the back.

“Make your wish,” he urged.

She shook her head of her thoughts, now focused once again on the task at hand.

The shadows told him that she was once again right on track.

He wished he could get it over with, do what he had been freed from the Underworld to do, and then go and devour a few humans before he had to find a new body to take over- but he knew it was too soon.

She had to wish.

Without a wish, The Mist would never rise.

Never.

“Remember, you’ve gotta wish to The Mist,” the boy said quickly. “Or else the wish won’t work.”

She nodded her head.

Phoebe began to enjoy what she was doing.

She forgot what had scared her in the first place and when she looked back into the well, it appeared brighter than it had before. Phoebe felt a little dizzy, but she ignored the feeling. She was tired and hadn’t eaten the peanut butter sandwich her mother had made.

Phoebe clumsily flipped the coin over in her hand. It had two faces, like any other coin, but one side was blank. She peered into the well, eyes widening involuntary to adjust to the dim light, and she sucked in a deep breath.

Should she wish for ice cream? Maybe a new mother or maybe that she wouldn’t get into trouble for dirtying herself? She thought to what she wanted the most, other than a Barbie and other than a new blanket, she thought of what she always day dreamed of when the Grammar teacher was talking and everybody was pretending to pay attention except her.

She wished herself a happy life, the best of the best, muttering under her breath:

“Dear, The Mist, wishing well, sir; I wish to be happy”.

Azban smiled.

He released the bubble of laughter he had been holding in, his eyes wild, and Phoebe turned around, startled at the sound. Her eyes met his face as his blue eyes turned to black- his mouth stretched wide as he grinned, yellow teeth peeking out like chipped wooden forks- and Phoebe let out a shrill scream.

Azban didn’t need to silence her, he didn’t even care that she was making a noise; he moved his dead hand forward, just an inch, and pushed her into the well.