The Raven's Conjuring: Dreams of Desolation, page 2
part #1 of The Raven's Conjuring Series
“Jax?” Morgan said as she looked at the crate and found it empty.
“Where is he?” she questioned.
She ran to the recliner where Katrina had been sitting.
“Move,” Morgan said, pushing her aside.
Katrina stumbled over the coffee table and started crying, prompting James to appear faster than a lightning bolt. Morgan tried to open the recliner, but the handle was stuck.
“What happened?” James asked, seeing Katrina on the floor.
“Morgan pushed me because she didn’t want me to dance,” Katrina cried.
“Let everyone have a turn,” James responded.
“That’s not it, daddy. I can’t find Jax. He was in his crate, but then I heard him yelp. I think he’s under the seat. But I can’t open it,” Morgan’s eyes teared up.
“Calm down, I’m sure we’ll find him,” James said as he walked to the recliner and grabbed the wooden handle.
Morgan knelt and looked underneath while James pushed back on the handle. Still stuck, he pushed down harder, and the footrest flew up. The mechanism had crushed the puppy’s tiny body under the chair, and Morgan screamed at the top of her lungs as blood splashed on her face.
“Jax!” Morgan screamed, horrified.
Chelsea and Sage screamed as well, as the rest of the adults ran into the living room
“Morgan? What happened?” Terry screamed, seeing Morgan covered in blood.
“It’s Jax,” she managed to say through her sobbing.
“Katrina killed him,” Sage said.
“I didn’t know he was under the chair,” Katrina screamed back as she ran to her mom.
With all the kids crying and Morgan covered in blood, Terry shot a hostile glance at James, blaming him for the loss.
“I’m going to take her upstairs and get her cleaned up. James, would you mind taking care of the mess down here?” Terry asked as she hurried up the stairs with Morgan in her arms.
“Heather, take the girls downstairs, will you?” James asked.
“You got it. Come on, kids, let’s go.” carrying Katrina, she descended into the basement.
“Daddy,” Sage cried.
“It’s ok, sweetie. Go with Heather,” Norman said.
Chelsea grabbed Sage’s tiny hand and walked with her down the stairs, behind Heather and Katrina.
Norman, James’ brother, stood silent in the living room, watching everything unfold.
“Help me turn this chair over,” James said.
“You know how I get when I see blood,” Norman said, covering his mouth.
James didn’t respond. He just shot him the same look their father used to give them when they were children, making Norman cave in an instant.
Norman and James flipped the recliner backward to clean up the mess. Both were sickened by the creature’s remains, hardly reminiscent of a dog. It was reduced to mangled fur and intestines entwined in metal coils.
“Oh my God…” Norman said and ran to the kitchen sink to throw up a combination of beer, burgers, and guacamole.
“Mom, I swear I didn’t know the puppy was under there,” Katrina sobbed, still wrapped up in Heather’s arms.
“I know, baby. It was a terrible accident.” Heather tried to console her.
“Is the puppy dead?” Sage asked.
“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” Heather said.
“I knew it wouldn’t last long. Happiness never lasts long in our family.” Katrina said.
“Why do you think that?” Heather questioned, confused.
“Every time things start going well, something happens that makes everything go to shit!” she exclaimed.
“Where did you hear that?” Heather said, shocked.
“Aunt Terry says it all the time, we get one foot in the door, and it smacks us in the face. The Crawford Curse is what she calls it,” Katrina said.
Heather was confused. Her sister’s life was beyond ideal. Terry always had it more comfortable, ever since childhood. Now, she had the perfect husband, the house, the career, and most of the inheritance left by their mother. On the other hand, Heather worked a decent job at a fancy restaurant and had just received a promotion to assistant manager. Heather always struggled in life, and although Terry seemed to have everything figured out, she was never satisfied.
Heather tried to explain the inevitability of everything coming to an end. Too young to understand, Sage and Chelsea cried themselves to sleep. Still, Katrina felt terrible about what happened and was full of remorse for her jealousy towards Morgan.
Norman and James cleaned up the mess in the living room and put the dog’s remains in the same box he gift-wrapped for Morgan. James contemplated keeping the chair after cleaning it but decided to put it in the garage so Morgan wouldn’t have to see it. He would put it out for the trash on Monday morning. After puking once more, Norman left with Sage, without saying goodbye to Morgan, and dropped Chelsea off at home, while Heather and Katrina stayed behind. After Terry bathed Morgan and dressed her in her favorite unicorn patterned pajamas, she laid with her in bed, comforting her. It was something she didn’t do too often. She caressed her daughter’s hair while she hummed a song she remembered from her childhood, but as Morgan’s eyes began to shut, a quiet knock on the door alerted her.
“Come in,” Terry said.
Heather walked in, carrying Katrina, her eyes still puffy and red. They made their way to Morgan’s bed, and Katrina finally looked up, noticing Morgan looked the same. Neither one could look at each other, Katrina’s blue eyes wandering around. At the same time, Morgan kept her face nestled in Terry’s arms.
“Morgan, honey. Katrina has something she wants to say to you,” Heather said in a meek voice, trying to comfort her.
“Morgan,” Katrina spoke as she put her hand on Morgan’s.
Morgan didn’t respond. She kept her eyes closed as she laid in her mother’s arms.
“I’m sorry for what happened to Jax. I swear, I didn’t know he was down there. Can you forgive me?” Katrina apologized.
It took Morgan a few seconds, but eventually, she opened her swollen eyes. For being only eight years old, she knew how to tell if something was right or wrong. Of course, she felt it was wrong to have the one thing she wanted most in her young life snatched away from her at once, but she also knew that it wasn’t all Katrina’s fault. It was also hers. She hadn’t locked the crate, and it was her that wanted a dog in the first place. Still, the trauma of the night would follow both Morgan and Katrina forever.
“I forgive you, Kat,” Morgan said as she sat up in the bed and reached out to hug Katrina.
After Heather and left with Morgan kept crying through the night, and nothing Terry said or did, could comfort her. Laying in her mother’s arms, Morgan stared at the necklace Terry always wore. Something about the smooth black stone had always been appealing to Morgan. It was an antique locket with an onyx stone framed by intricate scrollwork. An heirloom, passed down by every firstborn woman in the family and something Terry kept very dear to her heart. She waited a long time for her mother to pass it down, but when the day arrived, she lamented it.
It was a day Terry would never forget. She could still smell the hospital food and hear the beeping of the EKG as she and Heather sat in the hospital, next to their dying mother. Terry on her right, Heather on her left. Dementia and pneumonia had taken hold of the fragile old woman, and the doctors warned them to prepare for the worst. Before their mother took her last breath, she looked at Terry, held out her right hand, and gave her the locket.
“This is yours now. Keep it with you, always. You’ll know when to let go of it. I loved you both with all my heart had to give, but today is my day to die,” the woman said.
“Don’t say that, mother,” Heather cried.
“Fear not my daughters, for this is only the nature of death.” she clenched both of her daughter’s hands as she moaned in agonizing pain and grew cold.
Morgan’s constant crying made Terry remember her own pain on that terrible night and felt a sudden urge that this was the right time to pass down the locket.
“I want to give you this,” she said as Morgan opened her teary eyes.
Morgan stared at the locket dangling in front of her. Wiping the tears away, a smirk replaced the sour frown which had been plastered on her face for the last few hours.
“Are you sure, mom? You’re giving it to me?” Morgan said, sitting up in the bed.
“Yes, I think it’s the right time. I’m sorry about your doggy. Maybe we can get another one soon. But tonight, I want you to have this. It was given to me by my mother and her mother before her. And now, it’s yours,” Terry hung the locket around Morgan’s neck and kissed her on the forehead.
Right away, Morgan grabbed it and tried to open it, attempting to see the pictures inside, but the locket didn’t budge.
“It doesn’t open?” Morgan asked.
“No, it doesn’t. At least, I’ve never been able to open it,” Terry said as she hugged her little girl once more.
“Thank you, mom, I love it,” Morgan said, kissing her mom on the cheek.
After Morgan had fallen asleep, Terry slipped out of bed. She didn’t want to leave Morgan alone, but the bed was too small for both of them to sleep in. James was already in bed as Terry walked into their bedroom. He was tired, sad, and upset for Morgan, and although he thought he had done the right thing by getting the dog for his daughter, he never imagined it would cause her so much grief. He knew that everything with life dies, but only after having the appropriate amount of time to serve a purpose. Perhaps the dog had done just that, he thought—to teach Morgan about joy, loss, death, and forgiveness. A bit too fast, maybe, but not a bit too soon. When Terry climbed in the bed, she laid with her back to her husband and checked her email, as she did on most nights.
Morgan had suffered her first traumatic experience of life, and even though it had been the worst thing to happen to her, the worst was yet to come. She fell asleep that night, clutching her new given locket. It was comforting to have something she always wanted, like the puppy. It was reassuring that her mother was understanding and cared about her enough to attempt to make up for the pain.
Later in the day, around 3:15 in the morning, Morgan laid in bed, eyes open and parched. She sat up suddenly and remained that way for almost ten minutes, feet dangling over the floor, staring at the same spot on the wall. When Morgan stood up and began walking around her room, wall to wall, corner to corner, and finally made her way into the hallway and somehow made it down the stairs without falling. Morgan wandered around from room to room aimlessly but searching for something that would give her satisfaction. When she reached the living room, Terry woke up to the sound of Morgan crashing into the coffee table, knocking over a flower vase that broke on the ceramic floor. A sound that would have startled anyone, Morgan didn’t wake up from the noise. She just kept walking around, unbothered by anything. Terry quickly checked Morgan’s room, where she found her bed empty before she hurried downstairs, where she found her daughter.
“Morgan, honey,” she whispered in the darkness.
At first, it seemed Morgan was awake as she turned to face her—but her dead stare said otherwise. She stared at Terry, but Terry could only see the white of her eyes. She was emotionless, mouth open, barely breathing. Terrified of what was happening, she ran back upstairs to wake James. They watched as Morgan stopped in front of the wall by the front door, where the family portraits were displayed. She picked up the framed picture Katrina had given her and stared at it with the same disdain Katrina showed. Clutching the picture in her arms, Morgan sauntered to where the blue recliner had been, lifted the picture frame over her head, and smashed it on the floor. Again, Morgan remained in a trance and kept walking, this time stepping on the shards of glass beneath her feet—feeling no pain.
“Oh, my God,” James ran to Morgan and picked her up.
As her father embraced her, she became conscious once again, screaming out in pain from the cuts on her feet. They rushed her to the hospital for treatment, but the doctor had never seen anything like this. He had never heard of a sleepwalker who wasn’t woken up by pain, and after treating her wounds, the doctor pulled her parents aside.
“What’s happened to her?” Terry asked.
“It’s uncommon for young children, but I believe she could have been sleepwalking. Has she ever done something like this before?” he asked.
“No. At least I don’t think so,” Terry said, looking at James.
“I’ve never seen her like this. It was like she wasn’t alive.” James added.
“Well, there are several things that can cause somnambulism. Stress, overtiredness… um, it can also be hereditary. Have either of you suffered from the condition in the past? Or anyone in your family?”
Terry and James both shook their head.
“Well, then it’s a possibility that whatever trauma she’s experienced may have brought on this episode. I’ve stitched up her feet and prescribed some pain killers. Keep an eye on her for the next few days. Obviously, she should remain in bed.”
“Do you think this can happen again?” James asked.
“Hard to say. Some people experience this once, but other people tend to suffer their entire life from the symptoms.”
“Maybe it was just a fluke,” Terry said.
“Or maybe, it’s just the first time we’ve witnessed it,” James said, taking the prescription from the doctor.
CHAPTER TWO
Devoid of Life
B efore Morgan left her home, she finished packing last-minute things to decorate her dorm room. She took a small bonsai tree she had been nursing for the last three years and a couple of framed pictures. One of her and her parents, and one of her and Katrina, whom she hadn’t seen in six years. Morgan made her bed one last time, as she had done every morning since she was five years old, never changing the layout of the pillows and repeating the same process her mother taught her. She sat down in front of the vanity mirror one last time, grabbed a couple of hair bands, and wrapped her long black hair into a signature ponytail. She took her favorite pair of designer sunglasses, placed them on top of her head, and proceeded to put on the only two necklaces she ever wore. The half heart pendant and the heirloom onyx locket. She looked through her earrings and opted for a classic Morgan look, gold hoop earrings the size of a quarter. She placed the jewelry box in the crate with the rest of her belongings and looked around her bedroom. She smiled, remembering all the memories and sleepovers she had with Chelsea and her cousins. Although she would miss her home, she couldn’t wait for the next chapter of her journey to begin.
“Morgan, we have to go, now,” her mother yelled from downstairs.
“Coming,” Morgan responded as she picked up the crate and shut her bedroom door.
She walked downstairs and placed the crate on the ground. Sawyer, the golden retriever they adopted three years after Jax died, laid in his bed, waiting for his goodbye belly rub. When he was young, he had been very playful and gave Morgan plenty of great memories, but now, he didn’t do much other than lay around and chew on his stuffed animals.
“Bye, Sawyer. I’ll miss you, buddy,” Morgan said and kissed the dog on its head as he licked her face one last time and whimpered, knowing she was leaving him behind.
As Morgan picked up the crate and headed out the front door, James honked the horn as he and Terry were already waiting in the car. The SUV that James used to shuttle Morgan and her debate had now been converted into a moving truck. The trunk was almost packed to the brim. Morgan put the crate in the back, shoving it between suitcases filled with an absurd amount of clothes, and jumped in the backseat behind James.
“Morgan, wait,” a voice came from the side of the house.
She turned around to see a child running up to her—it was Sean, the boy she babysat for the last six years. He dashed towards her, his mother not far behind.
“Sean, what are you doing here? It’s so early. You should be sleeping,” Morgan said as she stepped out of the car, crouching down to meet his gaze.
“I couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye. I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I’ll miss you too, Sean. But I promise, when I come back, we can hang out again, ok?” Morgan said, noticing Sean was beginning to tear up.
“Don’t cry. I’ll be back in town before you know it,” Morgan attempted to console the child.
“You promise?” Sean said through sniffling and sobs.
“I promise,” Morgan said, holding back a few tears of her own.
“Come on, Sean. Morgan has to go.” his mom said as she picked him up and held him. “Morgan, you will be missed around here. I know you’re going to do great in college, but what matters most is that you have fun.”
“Thank you, I will. I’ll see you guys,” Morgan said as she sat back in the car.
“That was nice of him,” Terry said.
“Yeah, he is a great kid,” Morgan said as she flipped her sunglasses down in front of her eyes to not show her tear-filled eyelids.
“You sure you want to do this?” James questioned, trying to convince his little girl to stay close to home.
“No turning back, now,” Morgan responded as James started up the car and rolled down the brick-paved driveway.
In regard to her parents, Morgan was closest to her father. He was home more than Terry, so they spent a lot of quality time together. When she was a child, he would play dolls with her, take her ice skating in the winter. Later in life, he showed strong support for her debate team. No matter what Morgan accomplished, he was always proud of her. While other men at his office bragged about their kids’ sportsmanship, James bragged about Morgan’s academic accolades. Heading into college, Morgan would be focusing on a psychology major with a focus on criminal justice. Her goal was to work with the CIA or FBI one day. She always believed psychology was a gateway into the minds of others and even herself. If she could begin to understand how and why people acted a certain way, perhaps she could figure out her own struggles with sleepwalking.
