Black Curiosities
Dreaded Anxieties

"While I know you're not fond of change, do give Ms. Nightingale a chance."

The feeling of dread welling in the pit of his stomach didn't go away, despite Richard Granger's attempts to assure him that things would be alright. He would now and forever be a Granger with nothing that would ever change that.

And yet—

"How many times have we told you not to worry about your past?" he'd been told more than once about his forgotten memories of the past he couldn't recollect in the back of his mind. Sebastian couldn't even remember a time when the memories of his past had tried to resurface, as if nothing in existence could bring them back.

And then—

It was on the twenty-fourth of that month, June, when it happened relatively late at night while Sebastian minded his own business.

Nobody else was around either, leaving him entirely alone to his thoughts, which of course, involved that feeling of dread that had kept growing since he saw that sign, almost as if seeing the Bell, Book & Candle sign was some kind of warning that he should—to be honest, he wasn't sure what to think, or do, which only made the feeling that lurked in the back of his head even worse.

And then it happened.

It was a sharp pain in his left arm.

Such was the pain that he dropped the book he'd been reading, his hand reaching out to grab his arm while his head tilted back, which in turn, wasn't the worst part.

He could still feel the pain, but he was no longer there in the room, but in a cave instead, surrounded by an eerie green emanating from a basin. Sebastian looked down at the strangest-looking creature, an elf-like creature with big eyes and bat-like ears that, for some reason, seemed familiar, not to mention the only thing that felt safe in that cave. He could feel his mouth moving, saying something to the creature, yet he couldn't hear anything.

And then he was back in the front foyer of the Granger household, sitting on the couch with his book still dropped on the floor as he stared up at the ceiling, tears in his eyes. He swallowed, his right hand hovering over his left forearm, only for his right hand to latch down when another wave of pain from the spot rushed over him.

He was then back in the cave; the friendly creature was now gone; as he stared out at the water, the overwhelming feeling of thirst washed over him as was a buzzing sensation in his head as if someone or something were yelling at him. Even more frightening, though, was the hand of a corpse reaching out for his arm when he tried getting a drink of water from the nasty lake—an arm that sought to pull him in, to pull him under while the faces of the dead started to appear all around him.

Warm tears falling down his cheeks pulled him back to reality, his teeth gritted, coming close to biting the tip of his tongue while his entire body shook.

And then it hit, this time not a feeling of pain in his arm, but that feeling of dread that had been welling up suddenly pushed forth from the back of his mind, overwhelming, bursting forth from the pit of his stomach, leaving a wave of nausea.

He lurched up, hurrying then to the nearby lavatory, and vomited the contents of his dinner. Sebastian felt his entire body shake, and a cold sweat broke out over his whole body. For some reason, he could remember the feeling of fingers tearing at his flesh, yet there's never been a scar attesting to such a thing happening. However, the memory of the pain resulted in more vomiting and his head pounding.

Eventually, the vomiting stopped, and Sebastian found himself sinking against the far wall, his entire body still trembling, his left forearm still throbbing. His cheeks were still wet from where a few tears streaked down his face, but now his face was starting to feel sticky instead of the warmness from fresh tears.

Sebastian took a deep breath, lowering his head, looking at his left forearm, his mouth pushed into a frown. His head also pounded, the memory of the cave still fresh in his mind, as was the strange feeling he needed to remember what the importance of that particular cave was, yet he couldn't. Instead, he stared at his left arm, his right still clutching the sleeve tightly.

And then he pulled it back, the sleeve.

"Bloody!"

He pushed himself to the toilet again, vomiting again at the sight of the snake wriggling across the pale skin of his forearm, his fingers gripping the toilet tightly as his stomach heaved from the shock.

And his mind had to go elsewhere, to a dark place where he felt someone gripping his shoulder which made him turn to see a woman with black hair and gray eyes, the inkling they were related sending a chill down his spine, his first thought being the woman was his actual mother. Still, she could hear her cold words as she lowered her lips to speak in his ear. "I hope you like what I got you for your sixteenth birthday, baby blackbird."

And then he was in front of a man, a chill running down his spine as the man reached out for his left arm, pale and without the tattoo of a writhing snake coming out of a skull. The man's nails bit into his arm as he held Sebastian's left, and he lowered a wand as if to touch his skin.

"No!" It was his own voice that brought him back to reality this time, his hands flying up to cover his ears as he found himself sitting against the bathroom wall again. "I don't want to remember! I don't want to!"

Sebastian felt his entire body tremble for what felt like forever, the smell of vomit coming from the toilet.

Eventually, he calmed enough to reach out to flush the toilet, freezing upon seeing his left arm and the terrible sight. His right hand reached out, yanking his shirt sleeve over the mark so he could no longer see it before going with his non-dominant hand to flush the toilet. And Sebastian sat there, rocking slowly, his mind unsure of what to make of what he saw, as if he felt like losing his mind.

The door opened, and he heard his wife. "Sebastian, are you," she started to say, and then. "No, you're not alright."

"Just a bug," he managed to get out.

"A bug?" she asked. "Did you throw up? Perhaps you should lie down."

"Yeah," he said.

He started standing up, and she reached out for him, only—

Sebastian flinched and knew from how his wife reacted that he'd flinched. His eyes opened and closed, his mind unsure of what to do in that particular situation. Eventually, he muttered. "Sorry."

"Don't worry. I know you aren't fond of people touching you when you don't feel well. How about I bring you a cold rag? Actually, do you want to go up to your room rather than ours?"

"Yeah, I think I will," he said.

He started up the stairs, only for each one to feel like his feet were of lead. Eventually, he reached the attic room, the place her parents put together so he could have a quiet place of his own, and flopped onto the bed. He reached out his hand, gripping his forearm.

"What should I tell her?"

He didn't know the answer.