The Pendulum Lady
by Carolina Dean
The afternoon sun, filtered through the lace curtains of Susan’s parlor, cast long, distorted shadows across the cluttered room. Dust motes danced in the golden light, illuminating the countless trinkets and talismans that adorned every surface – dried herbs strung from the ceiling, tarot cards scattered across a velvet-draped table, and a collection of oddly shaped stones nestled in velvet pouches. Susan, her face a topographical map of wrinkles etched by decades of worry and whispered secrets, watched Cathy fidget. The girl, barely out of her teens, her youthful features usually bright and hopeful, now wore a mask of terror. Her eyes, wide and dark, seemed to hold the weight of a world too heavy for her slender frame.
“It’s…it’s about my boyfriend, Mark,” Cathy stammered, her voice barely a breath. “I think…I think he’s not…normal.” Her fingers twisted a silver locket around her neck, a nervous habit that did little to quell the rising panic.
Susan nodded, her own hand, gnarled and spotted, reaching for the heavy amethyst pendulum hanging from a thick, silver chain. The amethyst, a deep, violet hue, pulsed with a faint, inner light. “Ask your question, child. Let the stone speak. It has seen more than you can imagine.”
Cathy’s voice trembled, a fragile thread in the still air. “Is Mark…is he a demon?”
Susan held the pendulum steady, her eyes fixed on the crystal. The pendulum swung, a slow, deliberate circle, then stopped, quivering as if sensing an unseen presence. It began to rotate in a wide, frantic arc, picking up speed, a silent scream in motion. A sudden, bone-deep chill filled the small, cluttered room. The air crackled with an unseen energy, raising the hairs on Cathy's arms. A voice, a low, guttural growl that resonated with a primal dread, echoed from the shadows, “Cathy, my sweet. Come back to me.”
Mark stood in the doorway, the afternoon sunlight catching his normally handsome features, twisting them into a grotesque parody of a smile. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, burned with an unholy light, a cold, predatory gleam that made Cathy’s blood run cold. The air around him shimmered, distorting the very fabric of reality.
“He’s here!” Cathy screamed, scrambling back, her eyes wide with terror. Susan, surprisingly quick for her age, grabbed Cathy’s arm, her grip surprisingly strong, and pulled her towards the tiny closet tucked under the stairs. The air thrummed with a malevolent energy, a tangible presence that pressed against them. “Quickly, child!”
They slammed the door, the flimsy wood offering little comfort against the unseen horror. Outside, Mark’s voice boomed, amplified by an unnatural power, “You cannot hide from me, Cathy. I will find you.” The floorboards vibrated beneath his heavy, deliberate steps.
Susan wrapped the amethyst pendulum around the doorknob, the crystal humming with a faint, protective energy, a barrier against the encroaching darkness. It pulsed, casting a faint, violet glow, a fragile shield against the demonic power.
However, a moment later, a dark, swirling cloud of smoke seeped under the closet door, tendrils of darkness reaching for them like grasping claws. The air thickened, heavy with the stench of sulfur and decay. Cathy gasped, her breath catching in her throat, "It's him, he's going to get in!" She clutched Susan’s arm, her nails digging into the old woman’s skin. Susan, her eyes narrowed, her face set with grim determination, removed a second, smaller pendulum made of quartz from her apron pocket. The quartz, clear and pure, held a faint, inner luminescence. She held it aloft, her hand steady, and began to swing it in slow, counterclockwise circles, her lips moving in a silent incantation, ancient words of banishment and binding.
The smoke writhed, reacting to the crystal’s power, recoiling from its pure energy. It was pulled, twisted, and sucked upward, into the heart of the quartz, a dark vortex consumed by light. The crystal pulsed, glowing faintly, and the smoke vanished, leaving behind only the lingering stench of sulfur. Mark, or what was left of him, was trapped, his essence contained within the crystalline prison.
Susan, her breath ragged, her face pale, dropped the pendulum into her apron pocket. “He’s contained for now,” she said, her voice hoarse, a low rasp that spoke of ancient battles. “But not for long. These things…they are persistent.”
They emerged from the closet, the air still thick with the residue of dark magic. Susan grabbed a small, ornate glass bowl from a shelf in the kitchen, its delicate carvings depicting scenes of celestial battles. She filled it with holy water from a chipped ceramic pitcher, the water shimmering with a faint, ethereal glow. Then, with a steady hand, she dropped the quartz pendulum into the bowl.
The water hissed, bubbling violently, as if a live coal had been plunged into its depths. A blinding flash of light erupted, momentarily blinding them, followed by a sharp, deafening crack that shattered the silence. The glass bowl shattered, scattering fragments of crystal and damp shards of glass across the floor. The air smelled of sulfur and ozone, a lingering testament to the battle that had just been fought.
Cathy stared, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and relief, her body trembling. "He's gone?"
Susan nodded, her gaze fixed on the shattered remnants of the bowl, her eyes filled with a weariness that spanned centuries. "Gone. Destroyed. Some things, child, are best left undisturbed. They are ancient, powerful, and hungry. And some things, are best dealt with using a little bit of magic, and a whole lot of faith." She picked up the shattered amethyst pendulum, the silver chain now slightly bent, a physical manifestation of the struggle. "And sometimes, even faith is tested, and the tools we use must be reforged."
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