Traveler: Storyteller Tales: The Enchanted and The Dead

             Glen found his parents and siblings downstairs in that big living room.  His mother rose and ran to him to hug him and hold him.  “Oh, you’re alright,” she said like she was in tears.  “I was so worried about you.”  Glen thought, who is this woman?  His mother would be yelling her head off at him being so stupid to get himself lost.  Glen pulled back.

             Greta’s mother was there.  Madam Esmerelda was not.  But the Colonel shook his dad’s hand like they were indeed old friends, and then his dad turned and spoke to Glen with one eyebrow raised.  He alternately grinned and frowned like some sort of Morse code as he spoke.

             “Well, we better get back to the park if we plan to go up the Ferris Wheel before they close.”

             “But dad.  I can’t leave David and Greta here.  They found me and saved me.  They are prisoners locked in an upstairs room.  We have to set them free and bring them with us.

             Glen’s dad frowned and this time no grin followed.  “No,” he barked.  “We must go.”

             Glen took a step back.  “You’re enchanted,” he said.

             “What?”  Glen’s brother let out his ridicule voice; it was his put the little brother down voice.  “Don’t be stupid.  Nobody is enchanted.”

             “Yes, they are.”  Glen’s little sister whispered.  She held her mom’s hand and nodded to the truth of what Glen said.

             Glen stared at his sister before he had a thought.  “Don’t be silly,” he said and he put his arms up to reach for a hug from his dad.  He saw and heard everyone in the room exhale and relax.  As soon as his father started forward, Glen turned and raced for the stairs.

             “Hey!”  Everyone yelled.  Then everyone looked around at one another before they reacted and that gave Glen a good five second start.  He was half-way up the stairs before anyone down below moved.  By then it was too late because it was no longer Glen on the stairs, but the Nameless god and there was a shield of force at the bottom of the stairs that the others could not break through.  Of course, the gods normally did not interfere with the lives of the Kairos, but Nameless justified himself.  Glen was still much too young, and the vampire could not be allowed to escape.

             Nameless was not surprised at what he found at the top of the stairs.

             Carl was free and stood in the doorway to the upstairs sitting room.  He was drooling.  Greta and David were backed up to the corner window and David held the sword up with one hand while he pushed Greta behind him with the other.  Madam Esmerelda was also in the hall and she speared to be egging on the vampire.

             When Nameless arrived, the witch took one look at the god, realized who he was and became so shocked and awe struck she died on the spot.  Her old heart quit.  Nameless ignored her, stepped over her and stepped into the room where he shoved the vampire to the wall with enough force to crumple that whole side of the man’s body.

             David and Greta gasped, and while they were drawn to this stranger, Greta especially, they could not help but watch as the crumpled vampire slowly stood, stretched and healed every bone in the process until it was like new.

             “Why do I always get the werewolves, vampires and creepy things like that?”  Nameless complained while he picked up a small wooden chair and snapped off two legs.  He shoved one leg into Carl’s heart with enough force to make it stick out the back.  Then he went to see about the dead old woman in the hall.  He rammed the other chair leg into her heart and her eyes sprang open and she shrieked – a spine chilling sound—before she remained dead.

             Nameless stepped up to the couple cowering in the corner.  “David, do you mind if I borrow my sword?”  David paused, looked at the vampire holding its chest, still on its feet but leaning against the wall and not looking at all well.  David glanced at Greta and at the doorway as if looking for the old woman.  Without a word, he held out the sword.

             “I have others I could fetch, but this one started the job so it might as well finish it.”  Nameless turned and in one swift motion he cut off the vampire’s head.  Then he did the same for the woman in the hall.  When he stepped back into the room, the sword was gone.  He handed David some papers.

             “This is the list of the Swiss and South American accounts.  I’m sorry, most of the art works are in private hands and I am not authorized to straighten that out.  The colonel and his three henchmen are tied up but they might get free.  I recommend the telephone and moving on the accounts first.  As for these two,” he turned to Greta.

             He raised his hand and Greta’s mother appeared in the room, disoriented at first before she put her fist to her mouth to hold back the scream on sight of the Nameless god. “You must fill their mouths with garlic and sew them shut to marinade the brain and make it useless.  Your mother must do that as part of her penance and don’t make me come back here.”  He stared at Greta’s mother and she got the message.  “Then you must bury them with their heads between their knees so the heads do not attempt to reattach to the bodies like the snake.

             “Who are you?”  Greta trembled in the presence of this man.  She could not help it.  It was in her blood to feel the awe of Aesgard, manifest.  David was not quite so affected.

             “Glen?”  He asked.

             Nameless looked at the ceiling and bit his lower lip before he responded.  “I have no name, so I suppose you might as well call me Glen.  Listen.”  And those present could do nothing less.  “Glen and his family will go back to their life, no wiser than when this began.  You must not look for them, and if you happen to see them you must pretend like you do not know them.  Glen, especially must forget his haunted house experience or he will never sleep nights.”  Nameless felt there was no reason to go into a big explanation about how Glen would forget, regardless.  “I will write you a letter someday, or maybe Danna will,” he promised, and raised his hand again and vanished.

             Glen and his family were in line for the Ferris Wheel.  What they had been doing for the last couple of hours never came up.  Glen stood by the window of the car for most of the ride to the top.  He ignored his family and for the most part they ignored him.  When they got to stop at the very top of the wheel, Glen thought he would rather step back a bit toward the center of the train car.  He really did not like heights all that much.

             Mom was in the corner with her baby girl in her arms.  She was pointing out things below.  Probably museums and cathedrals.  Dad was a few steps away with his son.  They were commiserating on what they could see.  Glen was left out and neglected, as expected.  He could intrude on one group or the other or just look on his own.  That might sound sad to some, but Glen was happy at that moment.  He felt this was a sure sign that everything was back to normal; and by the time the Ferris Wheel came back to earth, Glen himself had forgotten all about his own personal haunted house and all that went on there.  He just yawned and looked forward to getting back to the hotel.

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