The Arts and The Crafts

“Stephanie!” Mark called through the single-story apartment.

“What?” she called back from the shower.

“I’m getting your mail!”

“Whatever!”

Mark trotted through the snow outside and crossed the gravel cul-de-sac. He unlocked it with a slight shimmy of a small screwdriver Steph had given him for that exact purpose. The door swung down with a quick snap and he grabbed the small envelopes in the box. He slammed the door shut twice before the broken locking mechanism jammed back into place.

He trotted back up through the snow to the house, banging his feet on the deck loudly to knock the snow off. Mark didn’t mind getting the mail. He figured if Steph was nice enough to house him for the week while his apartment was being fumigated, he could at least make himself useful.

Steph finished her shower and tiptoed over to the table to read her mail while still in her towel. Neither Mark nor Steph were bothered by the immodesty since Steph was as confident as she was plain, and Mark was as respectful as he was gay.

“Anything interesting?” he asked out of boredom, sitting across the small wooden table from her.

“Yeah, something from this guy named Bill.”

“Really? Hmm.”

“Yeah, wow, actually all of these are Bill’s,” she said with fear in her voice.

“Are you serious?” he asked, suddenly concerned she might have a stalker.

“Yeah, look! Bill, Bill, Bill,” she tossed the letters from her ISP, electrical company, and water services at him while laughing. “You’re so gullible!”

“Ah you suck,” he winced. Then remembered something he wanted to ask her.

“Hey Steph, did you hear anything weird last night?”

“Weird like…”

“You know, some voices from upstairs.”

“Just Greg and Dana, I assume.”

“I don’t know… it sounded like five or six voices at least, and animals too.”

“Maybe they were watching a movie?”

“Maybe…” he relented, appeased for now. He never did like sleepovers. They never went well for him.

Steph patted her thin pale face with her hands absentmindedly, making a little slap slap noise on her cheeks. She puffed one cheek out and pushed on it with a finger till the air filled up the other cheek. Then pushed on them both so she blew a raspberry.

“Neat,” she concluded and got up to change.

She returned from her bedroom a moment later in pink PSU sweats that had been rolled down on top and a loose grey t-shirt that read, “FTK”. Her reddish-brown hair was up in a pony-tale and her wide-set eyes were still red from the heat of the shower.

There was a knock at the door.

“Oh damn, just after I’ve changed, quick let me get naked again, maybe it’s a cute postman come back to save me from Bill!” she threw herself on the table dreamily while Mark answered the door.

A tall blonde man and extremely short dark-haired girl stood on the porch. They were not post-men.

“Hey!” said the girl in a friendly way, “You’re not Steph… a friend?” Her voice was that of a warm alto.

“Yeah, Mark,” he offered his hand and both visitors shook it at the same time.

“Ahh. Weird,” he said aloud, pulling his hand away like it had been violated.

“My name’s Greg, and this is my girlfriend Dana,” the tall man said, apparently ignoring Mark’s discomfort. He was very dark skinned with dyed blonde hair. His jaw looked sturdy enough to chew through a desk. Dana’s almond eyes were bright and lightly made-up. She wore purple lipstick that matched the purple streaks in her hair. She had a bright diamond stud on her left nostril.

“We just dropped by to get the book Steph was going to lend us,” Dana said, standing on her toes when she spoke.

“I’ve got it!” Steph said, appearing out of nowhere. She pushed the book over Mark’s shoulder and it fell into Dana’s hands.

Mark caught a glimpse of the title as the leather-bound volume slipped by him.

The Craft it read in highly angled letters. It meant nothing to Mark.

“Thanks! This will be helpful,” Dana said. The two guests left without a formal goodbye.

After they left, Mark made himself useful around the house again. He dusted some shelves, organized some papers, and helped Steph study for a test they had coming up on Monday. Fortunately, it was Friday and they had the whole weekend.

Just before dinner, Mark heard a car pull into the guest spot.

Those must be the guests I heard last night. He thought to himself.

He checked the window, but he just saw one person climb the staircase with a small backpack. He waited another minute, but no one else showed up.

At eleven, Mark was woken by a sharp scream. His first concern was for Steph’s safety. He bolted to her room and found her awake.

“What was that?” she said, wrapping her oversize flannel tighter.

“I don’t know,” whispered Mark. He looked outside. The car was still there.

“Guests?” he shrugged.

Then he heard a vicious set of barks from the room above.

“I didn’t know they had a dog,” Mark said quietly.

“They don’t,” Steph said, curling on her bed. She started to say a prayer. She lifted her palms skyward and incanted words that Mark didn’t recognize. He was a tolerant person, so he let her pray in peace. Meanwhile, he grabbed her field hockey stick and went outside.

The icy air made the sounds from upstairs sound even more crisp and horrible.

“Darkness is setting over… soon all will… can’t…” came a grating and eerie voice from the upstairs window. A dim light, as if from a candle, flickered in the window.

Mark gripped the stick tightly and cautiously ascended the stairs. His heart skipped a beat whenever one creaked. Finally, he was just below the window. He peaked over the edge.

Inside he saw the three of them circled around a table. A new face sat among them. The new man was tall, pale skinned, had close-cropped brown hair, and was wearing a thin black robe. Stephanie’s book lay open next to him on the table.

“Darkness is setting over the land. Soon all will fall. Your heroes can’t stop me,” he appeared to repeat.

“Mike, I’m rolling initiative,” said Dana, twirling a small bow around her fingers like a fidget spinner.

“Oh… my… GOD!” said the new, black-robed individual. “Will you please let me finish the scene!”

Dana slumped lower and waited while the man continued, “Quick my minions!”

“Yes master!” he said in a totally different voice.

“Attack the infiltrators!” he motioned with his hand at two small figurines on the table while returning to the first voice.

“Finally!” groaned Dana.

“I got a fourteen and Rex got an eighteen,” said Greg.

“Yay! Rex!” piped up Dana while clapping, she then grabbed a small figurine of a dog and barked convincingly.

Mark reentered Stephanie’s apartment. He was shaking his head in disgust.

“Bunch of fucking nerds,” he mumbled.

“What were they doing?” Steph asked from her bedroom.

“Playing some stupid nerd game! I hate people like that,” Mark spat exasperatedly. He returned the hockey stick to her closet. Stephanie was seated on the floor, the scent of incense permeated the room. She had drawn a pentagram on the floor and was holding two small dolls over a candle.

“Oh… won’t be needing these then,” she said, putting the dolls down.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Oh, just religious stuff, nothing really,” she put the dolls back in a box under her bed.

“Well that’s alright then,” he chuckled, “I’m pretty tolerant.”