Muriel sneered as the thing on her table flailed useless, the creature showing no real cognition beyond the occasional scream. This show had gone on for days at this point, and Muriel knew when to give up. Cutting the magic from it, the once human corpse fell still once more.
“It isn't even worth its parts at this point” Muriel mumbled to herself, pushing the body onto a cart. Looking around at the mess of the room, she stepped over the gore to the cart, grabbing it before weakly rolling it out the shack, fresh ocean air replacing the scent of acrid meat. Rolling it to the edge of a cliff she dragged the corpse off, laying it down before kicking it over the edge. She watched as it tumbled down, a large wave quickly swallowing it whole.
A “wave”, certainly what a less observant person would call it, Muriel would call it a shaky alliance. Something dwelled in the deep, whispering offers and knowledge to the wizard. Muriel never accepted anything beyond knowledge, and sometimes it wasn't even good knowledge, like how best to scale a fish, or how to avoid sandworms. Muriel wouldn’t step foot in a desert, so she saw no need in writing that one down.
The air hummed as it spoke, some kind of gibberish in the form of a melody that made Muriel's hairs stand on end as she forced herself to still, muzzling her fear like it was a rabid dog. In another life Muriel would have studied this creature, but in this one she had bigger fish to fry. She didn't break eye contact with the dark of the water till is silenced, and didn’t turn away till her heart calmed.
She soothed it by feeding it her leftovers, perhaps it used its knowledge to soothe her in the same way. She wondered if they mutually held each other in the same regard, if it felt any unease towards her, fear maybe. Muriel turned and walked past the shed she had set as her laboratory, and made her way to an idyllic cabin a bit further in the forest.
The pink and white flowers bloomed down the stone path, a white picket fence surrounding an welcoming cabin. Muriel hummed contently as the scent of soft flowers and fruit trees met her nose. Pushing open the white door, muriel walked into the main room, the fire a pile of sad ashes. The inside of the entry room was bare, possessing a kitchen table, some of andrews toys, and two chairs, one of which Andrew had pushed over to the window, where he sat staring out.
Muriel stared for a moment before saying in a soft tone “Honey, no one is going to hurt you here. You don't need to look out for anything anymore, mommy wont let anyone hurt you”
Andrew flinches slightly, almost unnoticeable as Muriel reaches out and lifts him off the chair. Balancing him on her hip she pushed the chair back to the table. Placing it perfectly in line with the opposite chair. She placed Anderw to sit at the counter. Muriel gave a thorough look over him to make sure none of his stitches came loose, moving his arms and legs around clinically. She made a mental note to stock up on silken string next she was able. Everything seemed fine, and she moved him back to the floor.
“Do you want to play? I can make some friends if you want?” Muriel asked softly, crouching to his height. She had left some of the previous owners in one piece.
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If Andrew had skin, it with be prickling right now. His mom couldn't hear the zombies think, but he could, they made him sad. He used to try to stay away from them, but then she would take them away, and what she would do would be worse. He shook his head softly, toddling over to his blocks. Muriel smiled softly, sitting at the table and writing down her days activities.
As the evening settled, Muriel led Andrew to bed, tucking him into one of the two small beds in the room. He looked around at the soft blue painted walls, eyes fixing on the little etches on the doorframe, each marking two different heights as the years progressed, each getting taller as time passed. Muriel missed his gaze as she walked over to the book case, pulling out a small book. She sat beside him, a lantern illuminated the pages, casting an ominous light on the wizard, the light reaching the underside of her hat. His mother had grown sickly looking over the years, it was as if every corpse she brought back bit off a little more of her own soul. Andrew thinks he can remember when his mothers hands were warm. He thinks her hair used to be brown? Or was it black? It couldn't have always been gray… He tried to ignore his thoughts, he didn't want to get upset with her around. He never understood why she smiled when he cried, smiled like whenever she came back from her lab, like he was a successful experiment. He pretended to sleep so that Muriel would leave, and after a couple minutes, it worked. He looked around the room from the bed, using the last of the sunsets light. She always said others were “sick” or “ill” and after a while andrew began to question what “sick” was, the house didn't smell of any sickness, Muriel didn't sterilize it before moving in...
Muriel left the room, taking a moment in the restroom to straighten her hair. Removing her hat, the mirror shattered, they had a strange habit of doing when displaying her face. She frowned momentarily before carrying on, rubbing a small bit of fat on her hands before running them through her hair. After washing her hands she grabbed a small powder puff, dusting her hair with a mix of talc and the sweet fragrance oils of white hoary stock. Over the years Muriel's hair grew brittle and she had to turn to older grooming techniques to maintain it.
A buzz of nausea passed over her as the sun set, her mind growing slightly foggy. It had gotten worse over the years. She could only stop the effects of aging so much, and a phenomenon known as “sundowning” had been steadily getting worse. She gripped the wood of the basin tightly, if her skin could pale more her knuckles would be white. Muriel bit her tongue as she held back a scream of anger, stepping away from the basin as she saw a shadow in the corner of her vision. Chasing it into the kitchen, she found nothing, no traces of magic, no change in the air, the hearth still burned warmly in the center of the house. Muriel did a double take, did she light that? She quickly pulled the matches from her pocket.. One was missing. Did someone take it? Muriels mind ran on mania and fear as she ran through ideas. Was he here? No he’s dead, she glanced at the door to Andrews room, relieved to find it locked. Muriel wouldn't let him take their son at any cost. Spotting her journal on the table, she stumbled over towards it, hands trembling as she flicked through the pages. What was the year again? She couldn’t seem to remember writing all this, it was a different journal than what she remembered too… Flipping to the most recent page, she let out a sobbing sigh of relief. She had lit the hearth, and best of all Andrews father was long gone. She collapsed into her chair, quietly sobbing into her hands.
Andrew sat fearfully in his bed, trembling. He could hear her frantic mumbling and footsteps from his room. He always got so scared, she did her worst work when she was like this. A loud thud echoed the house as the front door slammed. Andrew remembered they had past a small farm they had past on the way here.. They had horses a couple of goats too. Andrew imagines Muriel has the kindness to at least free the animals before leaving them alone. He has too, he has to pretend there is something good left of his mother. The lie does not comfort him how it used to.
