Chapter Three: Oubliette
Minnie struggled to see correctly through her only eye. Something was…off.
Nothing in the room had changed since Halloween, but Minnie had. Her hair, once prim and smooth, curled up the sides of her head like horns. Her skin was patchy with edges of roughly sewn skin, and one of her eyes was missing, leaving a gaping socket. And inside she'd changed. Despite the horrors and pain she'd gone through, it had all been worth it to see Junior look at her with a brightened smile and attitude now. In a way, it was like looking upon herself, her dreams, as he looked back with her other eye. She was so much happier now.
But something was off. Missing.
The only thing she remembered about the room the last she was in it was an investigation of some kind. She was looking for something. But like a hard to find word, it was on the tip of her tongue. She couldn't remember, which made her tremble because what she did recall was that it was very important. Minnie could only look around for a clue.
Finally, after much rummaging around, she found something. It was a smooth crystal ball of green emerald. She remembered putting it there after looking for…something. But its image was clear. Nothing.
She tucked it back under. What, oh what in all of Hell was going on?
But as she pulled back from the hiding place, she noticed something that should not have been there. A footprint. Uneasy, Minnie compared it with her own. It was nothing like her dainty little feet, being much longer and slimmer with a pointed toe. Judging by the smooth indent the mark had on the dusty floor, it was by someone with a love for good shoes.
And something wriggled in the back of her mind. Pictures.
She immediately returned to her sleuthing, going through every picture she kept. There were many beings with small feet, a dozen feet, or no feet at all, but none with good shoes. She sat down in frustration. "For sooth," she mumbled, "This be most vexing." Minnie had to take deep breaths. Then she made a realization. Who did you turn to when in a fix? Granny Grim!
"Awright child. Lessee what we ken do."
Minnie sat patiently in a chair at Granny Grim's little den, the entire room full of hanging spices, limbs, feathers, and other things. The skeletal woman was fussing about a giant cooking pot, throwing in ingredients to make it hiss and bubble while mumbling in her Jamaican accent.
"Kids deese days. Dey don't feed ya de right ingredients cher!" she declared, "Up and out witcha mind one o'deese days what withcha in sucha fix!"
"Indubitably Granny." Minnie replied.
"Aha! Now ain't dat a pretty work cher?"
Minnie got up and hurried to the pot which was now fizzling and sparking in excitement. Granny Grim took a big iron ladle and scooped some out, sticking it towards Minnie. "Dere ya are cher," she said confidently, "One dose an' a right proper nap'll getcha mind back ta workin'."
"I thank thee verily Granny." Minnie replied in excitement, sipping down the concoction quickly. She resisted the urge to cough it back up, the spicy flavor making her eye water for a moment, but she held it down before leaving with another thank you. On the way to her room she kept yawning. Perhaps it was in the potion's effects to make one drowsy…for she had a difficult time so much as walking to her room. She managed a sleepy tug at the door, before swaying and falling face-down into her pillows, asleep before she even landed.
"Just a hint…"
Minnie was hanging in a floating space. It was a thick, poison green, and images circled around her as she hovered in the dream space. Her eyes were wide at everything that was coming in so quickly.
"If it were not for that mistake I would never have had you," sobbed the voice of Nergal, "But if I never made that mistake I would have never lost her. Fate has rarely been kind in what I lose-"
"Showeth me Laore"
And what Minnie saw gave her mind violent shocks of realization. The woman lying on the thick grass, taunted by the man in black. Dusty pictures from a wedding long past. The tears and howls of her uncle Nergal, maddened with grief and longing. And a thick red scar, tainted and impure, on a woman who chose not to forget-
And Minnie jolted back to the conscious realm. Laore! Laore! She remembered!
But something was still wrong, even though Minnie had realized the truth once again. Like creeping vines, a strange and foreboding amnesia was tugging them away again. She repeated them over and over to ward it off, before yanking out her diary. She flipped the flowered pages to a fresh one and scribbled a new one.
Remember Laore whom Nergal loves and whom loves Nergal, she began to jot down. Saint Martha's Sanatorium for the Disabled and the mocking Senior. Laore scarred, Laore broken. Laore in the corner of the Wedding. Minnie surveyed her notes. They were hurried and untidy, but cryptic enough to keep her knowledgeable while others would be less so. Then, remembering the amnesia episode, she wrote.
Laore forgotten?
"Brother, I beg thee to accompany me."
"What? What's wrong Minnie?"
Junior was puzzled as Minnie tugged him to her room for privacy, careful that their parents had not arrived home early. She huddled and whispered with him, feeling more conspiratorial than ever. "I believe something foul is afoot," she whispered, "I thinketh our dear uncle is suffering from a woe most pained and our parents the deviants behind it."
"What? Why? I mean," Junior stuttered and stumbled before correcting himself, "I know Mom and Dad aren't perfect and all…but this is heavy stuff Minnie. You sure?"
"Most so brother," Minnie nodded. "I thinketh a trip to visit Grandpa Nergal is in order."
"What? But I thought he died when…Y'know…" Junior stuttered.
"So did I brother," Minnie nodded, "I think he has made an escape most stealthy in this case."
"But Minnie," Junior said with a slight plea in his voice, "What is troubling Uncle Nergal?"
Minnie only sighed quietly, before glancing at her diary full of clues and secrets. "Only that which vexes all it touches."
Junior caved in, and with a swipe of his scythe he cut a hole to the Center of the Earth. While hot and teeming with Nerglings, there was still the horned and dark castle of Nergals, Nergal Junior's old home. Minnie looked over her diary. Since her dream episode, she had stuffed it with family photos of the Nergals, even of obscure relatives to provide hints. Unfortunately Minnie's great aunt Sis had died before she ever got to know her grandchildren, but with the life still brimming here it became more and more apparent that Nergal Senior was alive and well.
Minnie made to knock on the door, but the simple force of her rapping knuckles let it open with a slow and chilling creak. The siblings looked hesitantly at each other before slipping in. The castle was smaller on the inside, and would have looked like a regular home were it not for the heavy sense of loneliness in its halls. A kitchen with a checker-print cover and small decorative salt and pepper shakers was dusty. The sink, the cabinets, all of them were gray with age and unused. There were rooms with no people. Minnie dared to peek into her Uncle Nergal's old room, only to wince. Like he had told her while she was growing up, he had been a misbehaved and lonesome child. Severed toy heads were stacked in a pile in the corner. Books nearly buried the bed which was far too small for Nergal now, and still messy.
Minnie felt a stab of pity for her grandfather. To what lengths had he gone to in order to insure nothing changed?
"Minnie, look."
Junior tugged on his sister's arm and pointed to a flight of stairs. It led to the attic, and a light was on. Minnie took a deep breath and walked up to knock on the door. She heard a faint jump behind, as if startled, but nothing happened. With a double dose of boldness, she opened the door.
She first saw his good shoes before she saw Nergal Sr.
His appearance hadn't changed, but like he'd been seen in the crystal it was warped by cunning. And now, somewhat, by fear and suspicion. But he managed a grin when he saw his grandchildren at the doorway.
"Minnie! And Junior! How delightful, please come in, have a seat-"
He strode across the attic room and retrieved a pair of stacked chairs, dusting them off before putting them in front of his own chair, made of dark wood and a green velvet. While he was genuinely happy to see his relatives, the shadows on his twisted face lingered. "But…but…" Junior stuttered as he was ushered to a chair. "I thought the monster ate you."
"Ach that was nothing," Nergal brushed off, taking a seat once Minnie and Junior were situated. "Merely a body they gave to a lingering memory I left in you to help you along. Err…didn't feel too pleasant I wager?" he asked a little cautiously.
"They ripped it to shreds," Junior pointed out bluntly, "That's the complete opposite of pleasant."
"Urgh," Nergal shivered, privately happy it had not really happened. "Perhaps it was good that it was just a silly memory is all." Nergal Sr. then snapped his fingers, "Oh! While you're here, have I ever told you about the time when my great-grandmother Phyllis accidentally-"
"Grandpa." cut off Minnie, "I want to know what happened to Laore."
Much like his son, there was an immediate physical reaction to these magical words. For once Minnie held back the poetry, wanting to catch her grandfather off guard this time to ensure the truth. Nergal Sr. gave a hard flinch, his feet jolting as if ready to run for the door. Minnie could see the cunning on his face return in a guilty pose. Junior could only look between them in utter bewilderment.
"Minnie?" Junior dared to whisper. But Minnie and Nergal Sr. seemed to not hear them, locked in a quiet contest.
"My dear Minnie," Nergal Sr. said in an offhand fashion, "I have no idea-"
"Yes you do Grandpa," Minnie corrected, "When I peered into thine crystal ball, I had seen thyself with her. I know most of the secrets we have been kept from. Tell me what happened."
In a slight reaction to Minnie's low growl, Junior's hoodie sweatshirt writhed and threatened to unravel into tentacles, making Junior nervous. Nergal Sr.'s face finally twisted into a grim and solemn expression that made him look fairly nasty. Junior shifted in his seat entirely uncomfortable.
"They should have buried that woman long ago," Nergal Sr. said in a low voice, "Then she might not have been as capable of haunting those that matter."
"She came to me that night they fought, the night my son was with Mandy you know. Perhaps she thought that I might have warmed up after all this time to…ha! Someone like her? It was utter nonsense of course; we trusted each other about as far as we threw each other. But I was intrigued nonetheless. 'Where did you get that cut I wonder?' I asked her. She didn't appear to hear me at first, but she finally had to nerve to ask me where my son was. I didn't know of course, but I humored her for a while. 'Where he belongs of course,' I told her. 'Where he's always belonged.'
"She did try to convince me she was not angry. But how could she be? That scar my son gave her isn't a normal wound. No wounds made by us Nergals ever heal properly, unless given care by the Nergal responsible. I merely told her 'If you're so worried, then wait for him a while. He'll come around.' She clearly did not like this option, but I was able to coax her back home."
"When Grim came by the house to inform me of my son's scandal I can't tell you how pleased it made me. My own boy, finally with a lady worth being with. Did you know they were together as children at one point. It ended nastily, but I knew they'd wind up together somehow and this was the proof. After Grim left I went looking for Laore. I wanted her to move on so that when the day came that my son did come looking for her he'd see how much better off she was, how better off they both were and leave. But…" Nergal Sr.'s expression twisted into frustration, "Found her in a damned sanatorium! She'd attempted suicide when my son didn't come back. That wouldn't do…if there was one thing that could ruin my son it would be something like that. So I tried to convince her she was sane, that she needed to move on, but unfortunately she was wary of me and refused to speak. Wouldn't say a word or listen."
There was a heavy pause, like sun before the storm. For a moment Minnie could believe she could still hurry to the sanatorium now, tell Laore the truth, and bring her back to Uncle Nergal to be together forever again. But at the closed eyes of Nergal Sr., his clasped hands and the look of regret on his face, she could see that possibility blotting out all the light and hope for such a thing.
"Grandpa," Minnie urged desperately, "What. Did you do. With Laore?" she punctuated her statements clearly. Junior was staring at them both, teetering with anticipation of what would happen next.
"I put her in the Oubliette."
There was a faint snarl of anger from Minnie before Junior became writhing and alive with tentacles that lunged at Nergal Sr., who could only yelp and howl as they bit and scratched at him, expressing Minnie's rage as Junior gasped and tried to back away.
"The Oubliette? The Oubliette? How could you!"
Far away, away from the shrieks of rage emitting from the Center of the Earth, there was a dark and hollow space. It had a vast cave-like roof, stalagmites and stalactites pointing from top to bottom in the giant cave. It was big enough to hold several large cities with room to spare, and had many floating islands hovering in its enormous space. Thick iron chains, thicker than the trunk of even the mightiest tree, linked them all together. When one peered closely enough into the dark space, there were flickering lights from the islands, their inhabitants moving around quietly.
And in the Oubliette, floated Saint Martha's Sanatorium for the Disabled, complete with its giant buildings, outer structures, the picturesque garden, and one patient.
The doctors, nurses, and other invalids had vanished. The hospital's place in the Human Realm was nothing but a thick crater filled with frightened and confused residents. However none of their terrors could match that of Laore, left to rot in the Oubliette, whose name had already slipped the minds of the doctor's who'd tended to her.
Laore was still frozen on the floor of the front door. She had awoken to the horrible sound of cracking an rumbling, fierce winds shattering the windows and vibrations causing objects to fall pell mell from their spaces on shelves and desks. Afraid she'd been caught in some horrible weather phenomenon, she hurried to door and opened it just as everything went still. She stepped out a foot-
-and almost fell out.
She'd cried out and managed to pull herself in, securing the door, but she was still shaken. The place where there should have been a sidewalk was gone. Below were dangerous looking spikes, ready to skewer anyone clumsy enough to trip over the edge.
Laore wanted to scream. But it was not her logic, who insisted that it was pointless and useless and that she ought to pick herself up and look for a way out, that silenced her. Rather it was the horrible suspicion that Nergal Sr. was still hanging around, waiting for a chance to catch her with her mouth open. Every since the night she'd last spoken he'd sought a chance to have her speak, for it would be a victory if she opened her mouth and managed even a refusal to his proposal. Silence was the only way to win…especially after what she'd attempted…
She could taste the faint memory of aspirin and shuddered. She hated taking aspirin now…it had been a reminder of how low she'd dropped, how pathetic and desperate she'd been to reunite with…with…
Laore forced herself upright, tugging on the worn hem of her green dress. Get a hold of yourself girl, she reminded quietly. Now is the time to investigate.
She searched the hospital for anyone else that might be left. But there was neither hair nor hide of anyone, merely a collection of rooms and belongings. The electricity had gone out, clearly incapable of running in the cavern, but the plumbing and pipes seemed to be functional enough. It was a good sign. For now, to deal with the darkness, Laore gathered a flashlight and spare batteries to search.
She finally searched the garden and outbuildings at the back of the hospital. She was relieved to see it was all here, although she was terribly alone as she wandered through. Most of the trees surrounding the hospital had not made the trip, but a few had roots stubbornly clinging to the earth that remained, hanging out like look-out peaks from the sides of the floating hospital.
"Ooh ah! I love rock n' roll! Boom chickah!"
Laore jumped at the sound of singing, and turned around, hiding behind one of the stately hedges. To her amazement, a tall green, something, came climbing up the side of the island, looking around as his head bopped to a made up rock song. He was gangly and tall, with long black hair and goggles, wearing a strange costume of furry leather. He had a large bag hoisted over his shoulder, scrounging for effects no doubt.
"I…hello?" Laore called out. The green man jumped and tripped in surprise, whirling around to see who spoke. "Ack! Whozerr? Come on now show yerself!" he called out to Laore in a slight British accent, and Laore had to ponder slightly how such a man ended up like that before stepping out. The green man's eyes widened as he looked Laore over.
"Aha! A young lady!" he bowed deeply, "An' wot kinda business might you 'ave with old Creeper eh ma'am?"
"Creeper?" Laore echoed in confusion.
"That be me ma'am. Monster, inventor, and henchman extraordinaire, 'atcha humble service."
"Its nice to meet you. I'm Laore." she said politely, much to the delight of Creeper. Now that she stood a little closer, he wasn't very tall at all, but only came up to her shoulders.
"A real lady eh? No one'll believe I'm a lady's henchman, no sir."
"Creeper," Laore said, looking around, "Where exactly am I?"
Her new acquaintance's face fell, "Ach, it not be lady talk ma'am." he muttered, "No, not a nice place to be, best be along, there's a girl-"
But Laore held firm. "Didn't you say you were to be my henchman?"
"Arr, that I did ma'am." Creeper sighed, before pulling his bag upright and walking forward to look around. "Well I regret to tell you…that you're in…" he paused dramatically. "The Oubliette."
"I…see…" Laore said finally, in a cool voice. Well she had no idea what on earth and Oubliette was. "And what, per say, is a place like this for."
"Ack, ask no more ma'am." Creeper sighed as he rummaged through the storage shed, putting scrap pieces in his bag. "It be unfortunate enough that yer her, poor old Creeper don't want to say it."
"Creeper," Laore said in warning, "If you wanted to be my henchman then you need to at least be ready to tell me the truth."
Creeper sighed again, in a deeper tone that made him sound very upset to say it. He turned to face Laore, and she was astonished to see his face weighed down with clear disappointment, mostly self-reflected.
"It ain't a nice place," he said mournfully, sitting down on a large, upside pot. "'Specially for ladies."
"But in truth and Oubliette," he said with hesitance, "Is a place where you put folks….to forget about them."
Laore's blood went cold. The world was a godless, hopeless place, encased in cold diamond ice without any beauty or mercy. No, no, no…it couldn't be. She had held onto her memories with a vice-like grip, praying and wishing and hoping that they would come to fruition, wanting so desperately to see Junior cross the threshold of the hospital so she could say just how sorry she was, to hear his apologies and for all to be forgiven so she could hold and smell and feel him again-
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Wot's wrong?"
Creeper was in a panic, hovering over her. Laore was surprised to see her legs had given out as she crumpled on the grounds of the garden. "What's going to happen?" she asked in terror, unable to disguise her voice with cool logic. "What did you mean by 'forget'?"
"It means you ain't remembered no more ma'am," Creeper said apologetically, "People go on and forget aboutcha. Mind you it takes some time, coupla days mebbe, but it 'appens. I'm very sorry I had to tell ya this but choo were a bit pushy I say."
"Junior," Laore managed to cry out, before blacking out. The cry echoed out in the giant Oubliette, and in the hot pits of Hell, Junior swore he felt something tug on his heartstrings as he ordered his troops. He simply wasn't sure what it was.