Fictional Account | True Story | Supernatural

Money for Nothing

Is Never Free…

There are always some people you never can quite trust. It’s never precise, nothing you can put your finger on; just something about the way they come across in a way that never quite seems genuine.

Or maybe it was just because I didn’t like the way Sheldon Lord smiled.

He would come into the medical facility, make his way to my dispensary window, blocking out the light as he was slightly less wide as he was tall. There he would stand, blocking up my work space. Bleeding out my day. Taking up space that others needed.

And every single time, he would ask for something I couldn’t give. A few Ibuprofen today for a migraine, or maybe a couple Mylanta for his stomach after he’d been drinking. Once he even asked me for condoms.

For the love of God, how did he arrive at condoms? He knew I was stationed at a working dispensary, not the community pharmacy.

What grated on my last good nerve was the way he’d follow up his requests with a smile that was as fake and plastic as the curling lips on a child’s doll.

How could I just give him anything? At least once a week the man tried to get away from the routine process of seeing the company doctor, paying like everyone else for his prescription and then sitting patiently in the waiting room to collect his meds.

Instead, he would sidle up my window, smiling as if we were long lost pals, one gold tooth shining from the back of his mouth, and wheedle his way into convincing me to hand him medication for free.

People have been fired for less. Sigh.

So it was strange then, the day he came up to my window and asked me if he could pay me for a couple of Ibuprofen tablets. That was new. I paused and looked at him, gold tooth shining in his broad shit-eating grin.

“Right,” I said. “Lord, since when do you pay for anything?”

“I can pay, boss,” he said, and he pulled out a roll of bills the size of my fist. My eyes must have widened. He laughed and I could see his belly jiggle beneath his tight T-shirt. “Like you didn’t think I had money or what?”

He peeled off a $100 dollar bill and waved it at me, “Take this, we could keep it going.”

I couldn’t quite understand what I was seeing. A roll of hundred dollar bills the size of my fist. And Lord there casually bribing me as if money was nothing.

I shook my head. “Mr. Lord, there is a procedure. Kindly go see the doctor, get a prescription, and come back with it. I can’t just hand you things, I have a family and I like this job.”

Lord laughed out loud, I still remember how hale and hearty it sounded, interspersed with glimpses of gold winking at the back of his mouth. “Okay Mr. Pharmacist. I’ll do it your way.”

Thinking back on it now, there was something else that struck me. He had a smell about him. High and sour, like the stinkbugs we used to catch in plastic bags as children.

The next week he came back again.

This time he wore a thick gold chain with links the size of my little finger. He had a prescription in hand, he’d seen the doctor and somehow managed to get a prescription for 200 Ibuprofen tablets.

I’ve never seen a prescription for more than 30. It was a company rule we couldn’t break. But somehow Lord got the doctor to write him enough tablets to tranquilize a moose.

I wondered again about the roll of hundred dollar bills.

I gave him 30 and told him to come back when they were finished. He just laughed, gold sparkling everywhere, the sour smell of stinkbugs strong in the dispensary window.

His wife came to collect the rest of his tablets. I always wondered what she saw in Sheldon Lord. She was bubbly, absolutely charming in every way that Lord was not. She had a way of holding your attention with a look. And making you love her with just a smile.

On the islands, we’d say chalk and cheese. Two different things entirely. That’s what they were. Chalk and cheese. Maybe that’s why I didn’t like the man. Maybe I was jealous. Whatever.

When she handed me the repeat prescription for her husband, anyone could see something was wrong.

Her shoulders sagged, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Even her ponytail was limp.

She sat alone in the waiting room. As I worked, I glanced down the corridor. She stared into space, frozen in place like a mannequin. I wanted to ask her what was wrong but it was a busy day, we were swamped. I had other patients.

When she collected Sheldon’s ibuprofen, I smelt it again. The smell of stinkbugs. Strong. Sour to the point of nauseating. I still remember her sad smile as she turned and left.

I wouldn’t see her or Sheldon again.

Sheldon’s mother — Julie — told me about the fire that took their lives. I didn’t have to ask, it was all over the company’s news. I even put money into the collection they took up to help the family. She’d come to the dispensary with a prescription for their granddaughter — Sheldon’s baby.

Julie wept as she told me what happened. Sheldon had called her in a panic. Said the shadows were moving in the house and to come quick. To bring Holy Water. He was screaming for her to come.

Holy Water, Julie repeated, her voice shaking. She was a strong Catholic, she always had Holy Water at home, blessed by the Monks on Mount Saint Benedict. She grabbed her rosary and the water and raced down the road to Sheldon’s home.

She told me, he opened the door in his underwear, still wearing heavy gold chains, rings on his fingers, and one diamond earring. And he was screaming she said. Begging God to help him. Saying he would give the money back.

Inside his wife, poor Mary, lay on the floor. She wasn’t moving. Next to her was a board. Letters and numbers. A pointer. Julie recognized it immediately, it was an Ouija board.

Candles were arranged around the room. On the tables, and counter tops. Around Mary in a circle. But their flames were too long, too high. No ordinary flame should burn like that.

Julie told me she took one look at Sheldon and pushed him out of the way. After all, she taught him. Brought him up in the church. Made certain he was baptized and confirmed. Knew his Lord and Savior. And he did this. Talked to the dead. Or worse.

She opened the bottle of Holy Water and began splashing it everywhere. Praying to God to help them. To stand in the way of evil. To shield them. Julie said the flames grew even higher with every word she spoke and she began to smell smoke.

Smoke and something else. Something worse. High, sour, and strong. The smell of stinkbugs filled her chest. Made her cough so hard that her stomach hurt.

And still, Mary lay on the floor, not moving. Was she hurt? Julie didn’t know.

Sheldon held his head in his hands in a daze still moaning. From the back room, she heard the baby cry. Julie said it was as clear as a crystal bell cutting through the madness inside. It startled her enough to move.

She forced her legs to take her — one trembling step and the next towards the nursery. The heat inside the room washed over her like a wave but the baby… She had to get to the nursery.

The baby lay on her stomach, her little arms waving and legs kicking. Julie wrapped her up in a blanket and raced out of the house.

Sheldon began screaming behind her.

“Oh God, Mom, Oh God what did we do? Oh GOD, OH GOD!”

Julie told me she’d barely made it outside when she heard a sudden sucking sound. As if all the air in the house was being pulled inward. Then there was a loud crack as the walls bowed inwards and the roof snapped in half and angled sharply down.

And then the house collapsed in on itself, orange flames hot and eager crackled up the sides as they devoured everything.

The firemen said nothing was left.

Julie began to cry again as she spoke to me. “There was nothing I could do you know?” She settled the baby on her shoulder.

I worried about the baby. It was so still. So quiet. It barely moved.

I wished I had the right words to say to Julie. What can you tell a mother who lost her family in circumstances like that? I wanted to say more. Tell her that things would be all right. But they weren’t.

I felt my own sanity shift just a little as we talked about that day. As if something was loosed inside of me and it left me suddenly breathless.

We kept talking though, until there was nothing left to say. I had patients to get back to and she had to take her granddaughter home.

As Julie turned to go, I looked at the baby, wrapped in the familiar white blanket with the blue and red stripes. I caught a glimpse of the baby’s face. Her little pink cheeks. Her tiny eyes.

Her eyes. I blinked hard. I wasn’t seeing right.

The baby’s eyes were completely black and empty, without any trace of any white. And I smelt it again. The same stink scent I smelled on her father and mother. High and sweet and sour like stinkbugs.

Phew. That was a scary one right? Lol. The story is mostly true. I did know a guy who told me he asked an Ouija board for lottery tickets. He began to win and win and I was jealous for a while. Then I learned that he started to lose and lose and he got into trouble with his wife. In the real real, he stopped in time.

I’m not going to mess with that shit. Nuh uh.

Mitch.

This story was inspired by Photo Prompt 2 — Ouija Board (October Prompts) 🦇 🎃

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