Carnem Levare by Jaxx Summers

Author:Jaxx Summers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ghosts, short story, paranormal mystery, paranormal short story, paranormal love story, 1800s historical fiction

*****

The Awakening

After Stefano was thrust back into the mortal world, he went in search of his family home. Inside he found his mother burning candles and chanting along with her friends. The room was otherwise dark. Five of them sat about a tiny circular table that was covered with a black skirt. Each woman was covered in matching mourning shades. Their fingers clung desperately at each other. Mrs. Bonaro’s voice rose well beyond the others. The ritual halted after twelve minutes.

“Is he here?” one of the ladies asked.

“Can you feel him?” another inquired.

“Stefano was my son, I always sense his presence.” Mama Bonaro was irate. Her actions were sharp.

“One year, my friend . . . you've journeyed into this darkness for one year. When will you stop?” A friend mumbled from across the table. “We know nothing of spirits and traveling the realms, only what has been discovered this year.”

The woman to Mrs. Bonaro’s right released her grip. “We have called up Stefano’s spirit countless times. He has not come to us. Perhaps he is not dead.”

“Anastasia’s body was found wrapped in his coat—”

“He was never found—”

“Let it go, please?”

“My son is buried in the waters. I need to know his soul is at peace.” Mrs. Bonaro’s strength was waning. “He would never leave me. My son fell into the arms of that harlot. He is gone because of her.”

No! Stefano cried out. Anastasia would never hurt me. I am the murderer!

“I only wish that I could bring her back to life, so that I could kill her as well,” his mother declared. She pulled out a lock of hair, wrapped it in cloth and allowed the parcel to singe to nothingness. “I hate the entire Soranzo family! May their souls not rest until I see my dear son again. I curse their lives and their generations to come.”

Stefano paced.

He fretted.

He stomped.

Rage made him a viable threat. The angrier he became, the more his abilities came alive. Upon feeling his vibrations, Stefano paused. The room became silent. He started moving once again. Nothing . . .

Mrs. Bonaro looked around, her eyes briefly settling across the room. She stared down her co-conspirators.

“I curse the spirit of Anastasia Soranzo, until my son is found and his soul is at rest.”

Stefano wailed. He began tossing aside every object that he could grasp: lamps, cups, figurines. With each step, Stefano was able to incite fear in the inhabitants, except for his mother. The other women cowered together, slowly backing away from the fluttering candle.

To this madman’s dismay, Mrs. Bonaro continued on. Each declaration she made cut through her son’s heart. She shred and tormented, unaware of what was at stake. While the four women stood clear across the room, his mother sat at the table with her back facing him. Stefano lunged for her. His fingers pressed down into her shoulders. As he sunk into the silky fabric of her dress, he felt empowered. With little fight, Stefano managed to elevate her. The other women raced from the room.

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