Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

“Hi Mom,” he said when she picked up, though at this point the conversation was an obligation rather than pleasure. He wanted to bury himself in the sheets he’d shared with Emil last night and never have to come out from under them.

How pathetic was it that he’d grown so attached to a man who dabbled in black magic? Who lied and used him.

“Adam! Finally I get a hold of you. I just wanted to ask if there is really no way for you to visit us for All Saints’ Day? I know it’s tomorrow, but you could take an early train. Would Father Marek not be able to handle things on his own?”

Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Being exposed to her attention at such a vulnerable time was the last thing he needed. He loved his mother, of course, but she had an overbearing nature, and he couldn’t handle that right now. “I’m afraid not. We talked about this.”

“I thought you’d say that. I have obligations at church, but I’ve talked to your dad, and we can’t stay away any longer. We will visit next week. I can’t wait to see you, Adam. It’s been so long. You’ll be home before December, but we want to see what you’ve been up to.”

Adam’s hand tightened on the handset as he sank deeper into the armchair. The faces of saints remained serene in the pictures hung across from him, but their eyes expressed pity, a certainty that no matter how hard Adam tried to hide who he was, he would eventually end up exposed.

“Are you sure? I have a lot of work to do. And, as you said, we will see each other soon,” he said, with sweat beading on his back. If she came here, would she be able to see what he’d become?

Or had he always been corrupted and Emil’s influence only made that aspect of him more evident?

“I just… I want to make sure all is well with you. There’s this woman… She lived there back when we went hiking years ago. Mrs. Slowik. Is she still there by any chance?”

Adam exhaled when he realized Mother was asking about Emil’s grandma, and it took him several seconds to collect himself before he spoke. “No. I heard she passed away. Why?”

Mom exhaled deeply. “Oh, good. I mean, not that I wouldn’t wish her well. I just… she’d spoken to me and Dad about these pagan rituals, so it’s good that these things are not a problem anymore.”

Adam closed his eyes, and the effort to keep calm consumed his whole being. Had Emil’s grandmother taught him the things he’d… probably done to Adam? Was this how it all started?

“No, it’s all fine, Mom. Everyone is very nice.”

“Just stay indoors tonight, okay? Forefathers’ Eve is— You know what I mean.”

No, he didn’t. His mom was religious, not superstitious.

“You mean the Forefathers’ Eve when ghosts of sinners walk the earth and when the living can help them get to heaven? Like in that drama we read in school? It’s based on folklore. You can’t believe any of that,” he said, wishing he could just cut the conversation short.

“Not exactly, but why tempt fate, right?”

Adam massaged his forehead. “Yes. Right,” he said only to appease her. “I’ll stay indoors. Thanks for calling. I’ll be in touch next week.”

They exchanged a few more words, but he was glad to put down the phone. Mrs. Janina entered before he could have recuperated. And her gaze told him from the get-go that she’d eavesdropped.

“I didn’t want to be nosy, but I might have overheard you talking about Forefathers’ Eve,” she said and placed a tray with warm cookies and tea on the table in front of Adam.

He was too tired to brush her off efficiently enough and shrugged. “She mentioned it.”

“Is something troubling you? I have a grandson only slightly younger than you. You can talk to me.”

Adam’s gaze settled on the stack of cookies, which at this point didn’t even seem appetizing. What was the point of eating something delicious when nothing could bring him any joy right now?

“It’s complicated.”

“All things seem complicated until they’re easy,” she said, and it sounded like ‘don’t worry, it will be okay’. Exactly the kind of empty words that never helped anyone.

Adam let out a laugh and met her gaze. Her inquisitive eyes kept watching him, searching for any clues. He swallowed. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway. It’s a crazy thing.”

Mrs. Janina sat down at the other side of the table. “I’ve been alive for a long time. I’ve seen things.”

“What kind of things?” he asked softly and picked up one of the cookies. Its sugary scent, with just a hint of lemon, reminded him of Christmas in a way so visceral he at once missed home.