Taxi Myth

I could smell the cigarette smoke on my clothes, it turned my stomach almost as much as that hundred year old sleaze that had grabbed my ass while I waited for my wine. I raised my hand for the seventh time in three minutes. 

"Taxi!" But, yet again, the black cabs just sped past. 

Growing more miserable by the second, it occurred to me, that I hadn't decided where I wanted to be taken once I'd successfully hailed a cab - if that ever happened. 

"TAXI!" Ignored again. 

Or maybe not, suddenly the car reversed back down the thankfully deserted road, and grinded to a stop halt directly in front of me. Weird, but not enough for me to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

I clambered in to the back of the taxi, having been conditioned by my mother to never sit in the front of  a taxi if you're on your own. Some things just stick, I guess, even when family doesn't. 

"Where to?" The question came with a friendly smile. The driver couldn't have been older than late 30s, tanned and somehow both familiar and completely new. 

"193 New Street. Please." Guess I'm going to Laura's. Good idea? Not even a little. Unhealthy? Definitely. Fun? Hell yes! A night with Laura may not be what I needed, but it was what I wanted. It was my version of putting your hand closer and closer to a flame to see how long you can hold it until you get burned. It was likely going to hurt, but the temptation always was too strong. 

Looking out the window, I watched the world go by...wait! Alfredos? This wasn't the way to Laura's. 

"Hey. You're going the wrong way. This isn't the way to New Street."

"This is the way to we need to go." The driver's voice was still cheerful, no note of threatening. 

Before I had time to panic, the taxi stopped. 

"Here we are." I looked out of the window and see a house that I could have sworn I'd seen before, but couldn't be sure. 

Then I saw him. Simon. My big brother. And in his arms, was a chubby-cheeked baby. 

I hadn't spoken to Simon for a few years. He was dad's son, not mum's. Dad was my link to my older brother. So, when I was disowned for liking tacos more than burritos, we'd lost touch. 

Before I realised what I was doing, I was walking towards the front door. Had I even paid for the taxi?

Could this be my chance of a family that accepted me? 

"Are you just going to keep walking passed my house or are you going to come in?" Andrew looked up at Sarah, apprehension written over every inch of his face. He stood at the end of the garden path, staring through Sarah into the house behind. He should have known he'd have to deal with Sarah before talking to Aimee. As if fighting for his marriage wasn't going to be brutal enough. 

"You've really done it this time." A smirk played in her lips. 

"You're loving this, aren't you?" Andrew grimaced. 

Stupid question, Sarah enjoyed it every time Andrew messed up and Aimee went spare, it proved her right. 

"Of course! My sister's hysterics are so entertaining when they're not aimed at me." Sarah chuckled. 

"How bad is it?" Andrew sighed. 

"Shit storm. Total tornado of terror. Aimee's going ape shit and Mum's playing her usual role of hype-woman and shit-stirrer." Sarah's smirk grew and an amused twinkle shone in her eyes. 

"Your mum's in there? Crap!" Andrew's mission had went from extremely volatile to almost entirely impossible. Aimee's mum knew exactly which buttons to press to keep her daughter riled up. 

"I can explain." He pleaded. 

"She caught you red-handed, dude, not much needing explained."

"I was drunk."

"That feeble excuse will get you nowhere good in there." Sarah gestured into the house behind her. 

"It was my bachelor party." They both knew her was grasping at straws. 

"Oh, you mean the one she didn't want you having? Go in there and say that to her. See how well that works out for you."

Andrew's shoulders slumped. 

"Look, you did what you did. You've got to just own it and own up to it. No excuses, no rationalising. Own up to the fuck up. Apologise and then grovel for your life." Sarah stepped out of the doorway onto the decking. "That's if you still want 'this' for the rest of your life."

Andrew walked up the path, onto the decking. 

"Wow, you really are a glutton for punishment as well as for...well, you know." Sarah teased. 

Andrew just shook his head. As he reached the doorway, he paused and looked Sarah in the eye. 

"It was just a piece of cake."

"IT WAS THE TOP TIER OF OUR WEDDING CAKE!!!" Aimee's shriek reverberated through the house. "You ATE the top tier of our wedding cake."

Andrew winced and walked into the house, while Sarah sat back on the porch swing and listened ti her sister called her fiance every name in the book.  

Clean Up

It was a rite of passage in my family: the day you were shown the jars. One that not everyone experienced. You had to be deemed ready and able to resist the temptations that came with this most treasured knowledge. I'd never resisted anything: that piece of cake; the boy I had a crush on; pushing any button I pleased. How was I considered able to resist the temptations that haunted my family. I would have questioned it, but I couldn't resist getting to see my family's twisted version of inheritance. 

I stood there, at the door to the basement surrounded by those who came before me. My mother, Dad wasn't permitted (this wasn't his family's thing, he understood) and her mother stood one either side side of me. Aunties formed the second wave. Women always outlived men in our family. No one knew why, it was just how things were. 

I winced as my grandmother drew the knife across my palm. She nodded and I placed my hand against the door. Blood Magic - the reason Dad wasn't involved. Mortimar blood did not flow through his veins. The door swung open and I descended the stairs. The others followed two paced behind. As my foot hit the floor of the basement, the lights illuminated the hallowed space. That's when they came in to view. The Jars. Shelves and cases and sideboards chock-a-block with jars. Generations upon generations had added to this collection. And now, I had access. One thing confused me, the contents of the jars looked disgusting. Not in the least bit tempting. 

"You have heard of Pandora's box, Mina?" my mother's voice echoed through the room. 

"Yes." I said solemnly, but thinking 'Where is this going?' 

"And you know who she was?" Listening to my mother's words, I felt like I was being spoken to by generations of my ancestors. 

"The original. The first Mortimar matriarch." I said, an entire life-time of hearing the story of Mortimer family legend flowing through my mind. 

"The tale is true. Pandora let everything from the box out into the world. And this..." My mother looked out onto the jars. "is the clean up."

Isserley and the Hitchhiker

Isserley almost turned him into road kill before she spotted him. He leapt out of the way just in time, landing heavily in the dirt next to the road. She watched as he pushed himself back up. His biceps flexed with the effort, they were almost the size of her head. Too quickly, he was back to his full height. Isserley took her time appraising the adonis standing in her head lights: strong, broad shoulders, defined arm muscles and his shirt was doing very little to hide impressive abdominals. He. Was. Perfect. 

That's when her eyes caught his gaze. Piercing and time-stopping. Without breaking eye contact, Isserley leaned over and opened the passenger door. His intense stare held her's as he walked around and got into the car. 

It was going to be such a shame to kill him. 

"So where is it you need to go?" Isserley enquired as she pulled out from the side of the road. 
"Callonblye. It's outside of -"
"Geller Woods. Yeah, I know. I've lived in this area a long time."


The hitchhiker hadn't taken his eyes off Isserley since he'd gotten into the car. Like a predator staring down his prey. It would have unnerved her, if it hadn't been for the knowledge that she was the hunter bringing home her spoils. 
"I'll drive you all the way to Callonblye, but I'll have to drop by my house on the way. Does that work for you?"
"Yeah, that's cool." The stranger finally took his eyes off Isserley and settled into the passenger seat. 

The short drive to Isserley's property was silent and filled with an atmosphere of sexual tension that could have been cut with a knife. 

They pulled up to a large farmhouse on the outskirts of Geller Woods. Secluded and miles away from the nearest neighbours, this late at night, it was deadly silent and almost eery. Isserley cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Before she closed the door, she bent down and looked across to the man in the passenger seat. 
"Would you mind helping me get the feed into the barn? The bags are pretty heavy and help would mean only one trip."
In response, the man exited the car. They walked around the car and met at the back of the truck. Isserley lowered the truck door grabbed the nearest bag of feed. The stranger grabbed the other two. With Isserley leading the way, they headed to the barn. Isserley used her free hand to open the door and hold it open for her new companion. The man walked into the barn without hesitation, he could see vague outlines of objects in the moonlight. That's when Isserley closed the door and everything went black. 

When Chris awoke, he was almost blinded by a light pointed directly above his head. His head was throbbing, why did his head hurt.  He went to rub it, but couldn't as his hands were bound. As his eyes began to adjust to the light, he saw that he was surrounded by six women. Isserley. Wait, they were all Isserley. Six identical women, all in the the image of the woman who had picked him up on the side of the road. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he had to get out of there. 

Chris tried to struggle, but he was still very groggy and whatever he had been drugged by was still affecting his limbs - all four of which were tightly bound. 

"The sacrifice awakens." One of the clones' monotone voice rang out. Then, in complete sync, they all started chanting, in what sounded like Latin. 

That's when the pain hit. It was like being electrocuted and split apart at the same time. His mouth gaped to scream in agony, but his vocal cords were completed non-functional. Chris kept writhing in pain while the women kept chanting. Turning his head to the side, he saw in horror that the muscles in his arm were half the size that they had been. Terror and heart-break slammed him again and again, as the body that he has spent hours and hours building and toning got smaller and smaller by the second. He was watching himself wither away. He could feel all the strength - both physical and mental - being drained from his body. 

It was only thirty minutes - though it seemed unending to Chris - before all there was left of the handsome hitchhiker was a pile of skin and bones. 

Stood next to the altar, naked and newly appeared, was a seventh woman, identical to the others. 

Their coven was complete.