Page 31 of Heir to a Curse

I left my shoes beside the door, and found my way to the chest of drawers to dig out some clothes for sleep. Didn’t need much, but I found an actual pair of pajamas, thinking that if monsters attacked again in the middle of the night at least I wouldn’t be meeting the mystery man in my underwear again.

Taking my phone to the bed and crawling beneath the covers, I searched for a while. Everything from the Chinese meaning of rabbits, toqilin, to the name Jun Xiang. Nothing specific came up for the name. Though I did download some music played on the same instrument I’d seen the man play in my dreams. It was actually pretty soothing.

I turned the volume to low, set the mix of instrumentals on repeat, and flicked off the last light before rolling over to sleep. Maybe I’d dream of him again. Falling asleep to the sound of the harp-like thing dropped me into dreams of floating.

To say my sleep was fitful would have been an understatement. I dreamt that I was searching some sort of old Chinese palace. The place spanned on forever in a maze of squared walkways leading to branch after branch of living areas, all abandoned. Despite running from place to place, I was freezing, like the world I’d been dropped in was in some Arctic place. Snow and ice covered the ground, decorated rooftops, and there was no heat that I could find. My breath huffed out white, and I rolled over fitfully thinking that my germs were spreading around the place, even though it seemed empty. Real world with the dream one often created an unusual mix.

I wasn’t quite certain what I was searching for. Someone. The man perhaps? With room after room empty, abandoned, even stripped of furniture, I wondered why he would have been in such a place to begin with. The music of that old instrument covered the sound of my footsteps, or any chance of hearing anyone else. I ran from place to place, throwing open doors, each empty room making my heart sink lower and lower.

The deeper into the palace I went, the darker the sky seemed. Like the most inner sanctum had been an abyss of loneliness rather than a home. Panic rose as I continued to open doors to empty rooms and the idea that I was running out of space echoed through my head. Then I was at the last door. Not sure how I knew it was the last door. Only that my gut did back-flips as I reached for it. There was no sign of warmth from the room. No signals of life.

Yet I had hope when I shoved back the door, that someone would be there.

The door opened to reveal a furnished room. The only one I’d seen that way so far. A bed, tables, even one set up with tea, a desk filled with old scroll like papers, and the abandoned and silent musical instrument. I stared at that thing, expecting it to magically keep playing because I heard the sounds of it, though it didn’t move. This room sat as lifeless as the rest, abandoned.

I sank to my knees, feeling overwhelmed with grief, trying to process what I was seeing. Had he been here? Recently? Where would he have gone? Perhaps he was outside somewhere.

Right. Outside in the frigid temperatures, picking flowers that somehow only grew through snow?

On the table beside the bed sat some sort of stick. I struggled to my feet and crossed the room to find part of the hairpin he often wore. Though how I knew it was his, I couldn’t have said. Vaguely my brain latched on to the thought that my little dragon statue would fit into this, tying together the gems and the elegance that the piece made. But he was never without it. Perhaps he’d replaced it since the little dragon end had gone missing? Or had he given me that piece?

I reached for it, expecting to pick it up and magically put the thing together somehow. Instead I lurched up out of bed, gasping for air and staring into the darkness of the cabin, disoriented for a few minutes, and fearing I’d somehow caught the virus that was killing everyone.

But the shortness of breath faded with the dream, and I reached over to pick up my phone and turn off the music. Silence blanketed the cabin, even as I strained to hear anything. Was someone messing with the shrine again?

My heart still thudded in my chest like a wild thing racing from a predator. Terror that he was gone filling me. I didn’t even know whohewas. Yet the loss was profound.

Carefully I climbed from the bed and went to the door, slipping on my shoes. It was like three in the morning, all dark and still. When I opened the door to the cabin, all I could see was the net of stars overhead, and the slivered moonlight casting a pale glow. The shrine looked empty and still, yet I was drawn to it, even going so far as to cross the bridge and pull back the plywood I’d used to temporarily keep out the elements.

Nothing but the trickle of the fountain from inside. No scary monsters or missing men. The small edges of light from the moon weren’t enough to really illuminate the space, so I flicked the switch for the sconces built into the wall, realizing I’d not had Jerry check the electrical in those. Another thing to add to my long to-do list.

They blazed to life, all but one, which seemed to have a burnt-out bulb, and the space was filled with a warm glow. Empty. Lifeless. And yet I still felt comforted. Sofia’s urn on the far shelf, surrounded by the flowers I’d given her, sat in a silent vigil. Though when my gaze fell to the small area beneath the name, where I had left more flowers earlier, I realized those flowers were gone. Not on the floor or having blown off from the wind, as I couldn’t see them anywhere. Just gone.

I was certain I’d left flowers there. Maybe this was all a dream? My dreams attaching to real life memories? I stepped up to the fountain and peered in the water expecting to see him. But like the frozen palace, nothing appeared other than my own reflection.

Maybe I remembered wrong and hadn’t left him flowers. I doused the lights, and headed back to the cabin, thinking maybe this house was having an odd effect on me. Could it be the curse that was messing with my head?

I let myself back into the cabin, kicked off my shoes and headed back to bed, hoping for a few hours of restful sleep at least. When I crawled into bed, I began to fall asleep almost immediately, warmed by the covers, and the soft cradle of the mattress. For a few seconds I felt like someone was there, holding me, safe. But when I tried to rouse enough to open my eyes, instead I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, unplagued by memories of days long past.