Gypsy Girl
Disclaimer: I do not on A Haunting In Connecticut or the characters used, Just my OC Tatiana. I am not sure that there were any gypsies in Connecticut during that time that Jonah was alive, so I am sorry if I get facts wrong.
A/N: The story is in Tatiana's point of view.
My name is Tatiana Victoria Black; I am sixteen years old and hail from the great state of Louisiana. Oh dear, let me rephrase my age: I only LOOK sixteen years old, but I am so old that I have forgotten my true age, as well as my own birthday. You see, I was immortal. How did I become immortal you ask me? The story is neither enchanting nor great, but it is a story of love, heartbreak and evil magic used by armatures. Many times I have had to fake my death in order to protect my secret, moving to a new state or country every time. I did not age at all, but stayed as young as the day I earned my immortality.
I grew up in rural Louisiana, on a former plantation site with Mother and Father. There were many places to explore, with the abandoned slave quarters and the bayou close by. Both my parents were what we like to call "traveling performers", but history recalls them as gypsies. When time passed, our so called "family" grew larger, and I became an apprentice to a shaman. The dirty Victorian dress that I had on been my favorite outfit (as well as my only outfit) used to be a crème and white colored frock, with a soft pink corset. Though the corset was missing, I stole it from a theatre troupe that had been traveling from Virginia.
Then on my fifteenth birthday, I did not expect my worst nightmares to come true: the locals had found us and burned down the plantation main house. Mother and Father were shot dead, along with most of the family. Only the shaman and I survived by fleeing to the east to Connecticut, earning money by selling the things that we had swiped from the main house before it was set ablaze. The shaman wanted to go to Connecticut because he had some children there before he became a shaman, but they had been taken by sickness.
The house was close to the cemetery, and we lived next door to the Aickman Funeral Home. The gentleman Aickman was a dear friend of the shaman, but he refused to go into the Funeral Home, even with me by his side. It was Aickman who had introduced me to the sweet medium Jonah, the innocent boy who had consorted with the wrong man. The boy that would become my esposite, my love and my grief.
I remember the day as if it were yesterday: It was mid-summer, the sun beating down on the riverbank yet it was not hot at all. Mr. Aickman had purchased a new wardrobe for me, complete with the swimwear that was fashionable at the time. I was grateful, of course but there was something about Aickman that made me queasy, maybe even frightened. He smelt of death and Formaldehyde, but that was to be expected of a funeral director. Jonah and I were in the water, playing and splashing each other, but I could tell that he was constantly tired and drained. It was that day that he told me about the séances that he was performing and I pressed him to tell me more, but Aickman had cut me off with a glare that would scare even a devil.
Before we knew it, a year had passed and we had found a growing fondness for each other. Society would not allow a white boy and a gypsy girl to be together, so we were each other's secret. I could see my love's health declining as well as his mental health, so I grew concerned. He had not been at our secret meeting place (the riverbank) for nights, and when the shaman and I would see them both, Aickman and Jonah would be very tired.
On a night when he actually came to the riverbank, he had looked so grim and I demanded to know what was going on with him and Aickman. Of course he denied anything other than he had been working late most nights, helping prepare the dead bodies for funerals and holding séances with Aickman in their spare time. "It is none of your concern, what I am doing late at night" his fists began to tremble as his eyes welled up with tears. "We must stop seeing each other, we cannot be in love. Stay far away from me, you wretched gypsy whore!" That was the night he tore my heart out, and that I had began to suspect that there was something more than what Jonah was telling me.
The next day I snuck into the house when Aickman and Jonah were away, what I saw in the basement threw me into a tizzy. There was one body, already dead and it had markings on it. They were a mixture of English and Runic languages and the person had no eyelids. My hands began to shake for I knew what kind of magic this was: truly evil, one that tampers with the dead and defiles them. The unfamiliar tingle went up my spine as cold hands came around my neck, turned me around and both of us fell to the floor.
I was looking deep into the eyes of a similar creature that I had found just moments before, but the previous one was a male and the one choking me was female. I called out with what voice I had left "Master! Mister Aickman! JONAH!" More of the creatures showed up, all of them putting their hands around my neck. Tears of pain rolled down my face as they were choking the life out of me, I could see them growing darker and darker; my line of sight grew smaller by the second and then I completely went black.
When I woke up I was in my own bed with Jonah cuddled up against me, as if he was protecting me from some evil presence. Our eyes met; his filled with remorse and shame while mine were filled with fear. He said to me "You saw it didn't you? The body with the carvings?"
"Yes, but I saw more than one…" I stammered out as he drew me closer to him, so that I could hear his heartbeat. "It was like there were dozens of them…souls that are restless…" I sank down to his torso and grabbed his shirt with tears of pain, sadness and anger rolling down my face. "What you are doing…is against the laws of nature…purely evil intent… soon they will turn against you and devour you whole."
"I know, that is why I thank God that I was the only one home when you screamed. Aickman and the shaman are at the market after the funeral" I could hear his sniffling and feel the tears fall from his face and onto mine "I am sorry for what I said last night, and for putting you in danger today. I will now disclose to you my sins…" He then told me about the bodies he and Aickman dug up, filled the empty coffins with sandbags and defiled the bodies so that they could strengthen his abilities. "Now that you know as well, you will be in danger of being tormented by these beings."
"Then run away with me!" I said to him, his eyes were transfixed upon me in bewilderment. "We can leave all these atrocities behind and start a new life, as husband and wife!"
"But we are only in our teen years! How will we be able to make it on our own?" he said as we locked hands.
"We will find a way, I promise" then I kissed his forehead. That night we made love in my bed. The most blissful night that my memory holds to this day, he snuck back into Aickman's house that morning, before the man awoke for that day's funeral services. Before he left my side, he gave me another kiss with his sweet lips. As day turned into night, I had arranged to meet Jonah before what would be his final séance. He was getting his things together quickly, for Aickman had found out about us running away. I could hear the elder man's angry voice calling for Jonah, I was waiting on the other side of the door, trying to help him escape that death house. My heart sank as I heard Aickman get to him first and pull him back, I could hear my beloved plead for his life. Aickman came back for me next and I let him get me and put me in the basement, where I saw the dead the day before. I could see them this time as well, they were all on top of me with their fingers around my neck but I could hear the séance starting and all of the spirits floated up to where Jonah was.
His horrid gagging on ectoplasm was sickening to hear and I wish I could have been there to comfort him. Then I heard the explosions and smelled the burning flesh; it was like that night when the main house at the plantation was burned down, with the living and dead inside of it. Then there was scuffling about upstairs, then the house started going insane upon itself. In a moment, I heard the meal tray descending and Jonah's screaming.
When he reached the bottom, I rushed by his side and said "Stay with me! I'm right here! I will save you!" I tried to open the door to the furnace, but the vengeful spirits pulled me back. Every time I kept trying to get the door open and they would push me back again. The same cycle would repeat itself until the fire went on. When the spirits stopped pulling me back, I knew that I could no longer save the love of my life. I reached into the burning furnace and said to him "Forgive me, I have failed you my love."
He gagged on the accumulating smoke that clouded his vision and tears were rolling down his eyes. "No, it is I who have failed you. We were supposed to run away together and live our lives away from this Hell Hole" he took my hand (which was getting very burnt) and grasped it tightly. "Wait for me before you cross over…I don't want to wander aimlessly in this realm as a vengeful spirit."
"I shall wait as long as it takes, my esposite" I wept into the cold iron of the table that the dead were prepared for the funerals. I could feel Jonah's life slipping away from him, from me and all I could do was watch as his flesh burned. I remained there until the shaman came to get me. Aickman's dying words were that I was locked in the basement. The father figure took hold of my arm to pry me away from my fallen love, but I pulled away from him with "Leave me! I want to die here!"
He must have waited until I had fallen asleep to take me home and put me into my bed. The same bed that had been the place where Jonah and I shared passionate love-making just nights before. I knew that I was not with child, for my menstrual cycle came a few days after the incident. The police had questioned the shaman and I about the behaviors that the man and Jonah had taken on but we told them that we had no idea how they were acting strange. The dreams were playing through my head non-stop, and they beat at my head for many a moon.
The most terrifying one was about the defiled bodies, with English and Runic etched on them, they were all surrounding Jonah and I. Jonah was being overtaken by them and soon became one of them. The others had fallen back behind him, and he was wringing my neck, hissing the words "You promised me you would save me…look at me now!" The entire space would be engulfed in flames and one by one the tormented spirits of the defiled dead would disappear. I would wake up from that dream at the same moment and the sheets in my bed still had his scent on them. He was mine, and I was his no more.
The much nicer dream was that he and I were sitting on the riverbank, where we had always played in the water. We were enjoying each other's company, just like old times. We were much older, though in our later years as seniors. Even though his skin was wrinkled, he was still just as handsome as the day I met him. There are some times when I had this dream where we are still young, but not as young as we were when Jonah died. I did not know how to interpret either of the dreams but I did not consult the shaman on this matter. I was angry at him right now, for he had confessed his greatest sin to me.
"I was the one who taught Aickman the way to enhance Jonah's abilities. I only thought he was just curious. That damned fool knew that he was not practiced enough for this malevolent act…"
"So, you enabled him to control those poor souls? You enabled him to enhance Jonah's abilities? YOU ENABELD HIM TO ANGER THE SPIRITS AND KILL MY BELOVED?!" While I screamed at him the shaman stood silent, letting me vent out my frustrations to him. His body clenched with unexpected fear as my anger and hatred towards him grew. "WHAT DID YOU GET IN RETURN?! WHAT DID THE BASTARD PROMISE YOU IN EXCHANGE FOR TEACHING HIM THAT HORRID PRACTICE?!"
"He…he said that he would approve of the love you and Jonah had for one another. I made him swear that he would leave you two alone…"
"You…did it for…me…?" my shock was too great for me to bear, so I left that house forever. Only for an instant did I look back, to look at the Aickman Funeral Home for the last time. It still had an evil aura with the many fragmented spirits inside of it, and my sweet Jonah was now one of them. I looked through the window where his remains lay, and I could see his charred face looking at me. His blue eyes had been sorrowful as were mine, without looking back again, I started a new life on my own.
The streets of Chicago were cold and unforgiving, much like the more fortunate people that lived there. I sat in an alleyway that was sandwiched in between a butcher and a baker, sometimes they would be kind enough to give me their scraps of the day. It was the dead of winter, one of the coldest ever recorded and I was still homeless. I did not practice my lessons that the shaman had given me, for I abandoned the dreadful acts long ago. I lay there dying from the cold, but my last breath didn't come from the frostbite that had taken over but rather from the broken heart that was left inside of me. The burn on my arm was now taken by the bitter chill, not even able to serve the simplest of purposes. I smiled as I drew my dying breath, for I saw my Jonah with his hand reaching out, seeming as if to take me to heaven's door. "My Jonah! My sweet, sweet Jonah!"
Instead, he had taken the broken heart that he had partly caused and absconded with it into the night. He whispered into my ear "You shall live to see me get our revenge."
When I awoke in the hospital, all my frostbite had gone as well as my burns. The doctors had no idea what was going to happen but I knew that with my broken heart, Jonah had taken my pain, my wounds but he left the emotional suffering with me. I had moved many times during the years, never staying in one place for too long or making friends. Leaving them would tear my heart even more.
The wreched house that caused us so much pain and suffering had changed hands many times, not one person living in it for more than a year or so. In the late 1980's I believe (I have stopped counting years; it bore me to death) a family with a sick boy entered the house. That is when I decided to go back to Connecticut after all these years, to use my so called "magic" to guide me back to the place which I dreaded the most. I used birds to monitor the house and it's occupants, and it was confirmed: the boy was so close to death, he could see the dead bodies just as she could have. I could only see the dead because of my ability to stay in tune with both worlds, making it hard for me to look away.
The house that I lived in with the shaman was still there, though it had seen better days. The wood was rotted, the termites had gotten to it many times and not to mention that many other animals had made this place their home as well. When I walked into what would have been my room, there was a symbol on the door there, something that would drive the evil forces away. The shaman must have left it there, if I were ever to return to it, seeking solace and quiet from the outside world and the demons that lurk in it.
Over the next few months, I continued to watch over the house, but never interfered with the occupants living or dead. I just remembered the soft touch of Jonah's lips against my own and every once in a while I would look to the basement window, just to see if my Jonah was still there. Sometimes he would be there but other times he would not, making me wonder why it was he who called me here. I could not make out the words his charred spirit was trying to say but I knew what he was telling me through the gurgling nonsense "I love you."
When the father of the children came home drunk off his horse one night, he went on a rampage against all the lights in the house. His anger plus the fear he caused in the hearts of his wife and children only added the fuel to the fire that powered the spirits to attack with more fervor. The spirits had a field day with no light bulbs in the house and I could see the unbridled electricity illuminating the otherwise dark house. "Humans are so dimwitted in these modern times" was all that I said to myself as I drifted off to sleep in my old bed (which now smelled of old dust).
I did not fully understand Jonah's intentions with this family, not until I saw the priest come in and search for his remains. That fool of a man wanted to let Jonah's remains out of the house, to "free his spirit from the confines of his personal hell". Without Jonah there to calm the angry spirits, the deathly ill boy (who's name I learned later was Matt) began to carve the same markings in his still alive body that they had in theirs. That foolish mother of his thought he had done it to himself, so the family had sent him to a mental ward to live out the remainder of this life.
One of my crows had followed the priest's automobile with the remains of my beloved in his back seat, the sight of his horribly burnt body catching the elder man off guard and nearly causing an accident. The man seemed to understand what Jonah wanted of him, and let him go freely.
I certainly was surprised to see that Jonah had successfully possessed the boy's body, he had to in order to free the trapped souls in the house. The boy had taken all the Formaldehyde in the basement and smashed the bottles against the walls. Had I not known how many dead bodies where in the walls of the house years ago, I would have not dared go in. I now know why the shaman was so reluctant to go in, even with me by his side. The morbid sight of those dead bodies made me vomit. It seemed as if I were not so immune to the sight of dead bodies as I thought I had grown accustomed to. Jonah and the boy threw the pictures of the dead and their eyelids into the fire to burn with them, not noticing that the boy's mother had come inside, looking for him.
She cradled her son in what seemed to be his final moments of life, weeping while saying some Christian holy phrase. This is where I wept as well, for that is the way I wanted to comfort Jonah in his final moments of life. When the firemen came for the mother and son, I dashed for them, fully knowing that Jonah was still inside of him. I stood behind the mother and father, who were trying to retrieve their son from the shadow of death. I moved my mouth, but forbade any words to escape my lips "Jonah, don't take the boy. He has done what you have asked of him. I have waited for you for many a year my love, how long do you intend to make me keep waiting?" I reached my hand out to his and with a mist about the boy Jonah left his body, and cured him of his cancer.
He took one look at the priest and at the boy before he took my hand, as if saying "Thank you" in his own silent way. His appearance was that of what I remembered him as: his handsome self with no burns; complete. I smiled at him and he smiled at me, hand in hand we walked toward the riverbank the place of one of our most beloved memories. He handed me back the heart he had mended for me, and I fell down dead.
With our spirits together again, we played in the water of the river. We laughed on the sand. Our love transcended time and space, making this place so close to hell our heaven.