Nicholson 1

Michael Nicholson
Mary Carroll-Hackett
Advanced Fiction Writing
02.02.2017
A Fury Like No Other
It all started at a flea market on the side of the road. Thats how all these stories start huh?

Some guy gets involved with some stupid thing on the side of the road out of curiosity. Its the

incurable human condition to wonder after every little weird thing, to ascribe meaning to the

meaningless. Maybe its because deep down were terrified of the underlying chaos and

unknowability of the world and maybe its because our minds get bored too easy. I digress

though, youre here to hear about my story, not the philosophical ramblings of an accused

murderer.
It was early summer when things went down. I was riding down the road in my moms

old jeep. I call the rusted blue fossil the hotbox, an affectionate nickname for it not because I

smoke the devils lettuce but because the AC has been busted for three long years now. Every

few minutes Id have to wipe the sweat from my forehead, the window switches were busted too.

I was driving down to North Carolina, the outer banks. My parents were renting out a beach

house and honestly I was taking every opportunity I could to get out of the rental house I lived

in.
Back then, I was still hurting about what happened. I figure I still am since even writing

this sentence sends my heart slamming against my ribcage like its trying to break out of a prison

cell. The girl Id fallen for and spent five long weeks working to stay in touch with had replaced

me. With my own friend. It always hurts to get replaced, but she didnt miss a beat; the second I

took some space to think about myself, she picked up my friend.

Yknow I said I wouldnt get off topic and wax philosophical but fuck it, youre a captive

audience so you get to hear the long and ugly of it. She promised me she wouldnt replace me,

alright? She told me directly that she liked me more than him, and my friend even told me he
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didnt hang out with her and didnt want to replace me. For brevitys sake lets call them A____

and M___. A____ said he never wanted to replace me but I shouldve seen that for the rat faced

lie it was, since the first time he met her and I told him M___ was engaged (though her fidelity

comes into question more and more with each passing day) his response was wouldnt be the

first time I used my dick to break up an engagement and laughed like some sort of cartoon

villain.
So yeah it still hurts and that wounds gonna be sore for a while, even if whats left of

them looks more like a strawberry puree than the picture on their IDs. She fuckin lied to me

about actually caring and he lied to me about not wanting her. Damn shame, since I met M___s

fiance and he actually seemed like a cool guy, he doesnt deserve that shit.
Back to the story at hand. I was driving down the road and it was a hell of a scorcher.

Humid out, bugs smushed up against the windshield in an ugly collage of browns and green. The

very chassis of the vehicle rattling with every bump. I sure as hell didnt wanna be home with

A____ cause he texts M___ constantly and gives me a shitty grin to let me know hes doing so.

Kinda fucked up he lords it over me, but back when I was closer with her I did the same thing. I

can hate him for it but I cant pretend I didnt do the same.
Still, I was scanning the side of the road for really anything that might give me an excuse

to get out of the vehicle. I was taking a dirt backroad so the thing was rattling so much I felt like

it was gonna fall apart at any second.

Flea Market, 5 miles up on the right! proclaimed a sign held by a wooden farmer. I

took in a deep breath and regretted it. A few years back the Jeep had been left unused for a few

months and rats had nested near the engine. The scent never really left it, and heat always made

it worse. Days of setting in the sun made the black leather steering wheel feel like hot iron in my

hands. My tongue was practically shriveled in my mouth from licking the sweat from my upper
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lip. I felt like Id eaten an entire bag of pretzels. I kept driving, and in a few more minutes

another wooden farmer reminded me that the flea market was just a mile further up on the right.
If I stopped it would add time to my trip and Ive always been against making things take

longer than they have to, but the hotbox was turning into a torture chamber and I needed a breath

of air that wasnt the musty rat scent that pervaded my personal vehicle.
I saw the flea market and pulled over, gently pushing on the brake while my car stumbled

to a halt. Last time my dad looked at the brake line, it had been so rusted through it looked to be

made of wood.
I opened the door and a new wave of heat pushed its way past me and into the car. I

wiped my forehead off again and picked up my empty plastic water bottle, chucking it into a

nearby trashcan. The flea market was your standard roadside affair. Outside there were peaches,

honeydew melon, and some bottles of honey. I was surprised to see there was an inside to the

shop, the hum of air conditioners was a sirens song and I couldnt resist making my way up that

aged wooden ramp and into the shop itself. Yellow wooden signs proclaimed FUDGE,

DRINKS, and more oddly PEACE OF MIND in large friendly red text.
The inside wasa bit odd. From the outside Id seen that picnic blankets had been

draped over the windows but it gave the inside light a burnt yellow hue, there wasnt even any

electric lights inside the place I could see. I shrugged, since there was an AC unit in more

windows than not, I figured electric lighting was probably more than the generator rumbling

alone outside could handle. The floor of the shop was covered in a thick Persian-looking carpet.

The trailer was filled with shelves. The shelves were full of what I can only describe as oddities.

Glass sculptures in odd shapes, dark brown glass bottles that looked to contain slips of paper.

Odd porcelain sculptures of angels and what looked like half-melted fairies. As I stepped in a

little bell above the door announced my presence.

For a while I closed my eyes and let the cool wash over me, drying my sweat over my

skin, the fresh scent of the shop replacing the scent of burnt rat in my mouth and tasting like
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fresh mint on my tongue. I felt goosepimples raise on my skin as my sweat froze to my back. The

comforting hum of A/C filled my ears as I took it all in, and I got a better sniff of the inside of

the shop.
It was an odd scent, like freshly brewed tea but no tea I had ever smelled before. A

cacophony of herbs unfamiliar to me. Again I looked around and took inventory of my

surroundings, looking for a cooler. I found a squat white rectangle with a laminated paper sign

reading DRINKS on it. With the scent of the shop already firmly in my nostrils I should have

known what to expect in terms of variety, but nonetheless I was surprised to see no drinks I

recognized, not even water, in the stores cooler.

Instead I was greeted by various herbal remedies and bottles that promised to re-

energize me and, I shit you not, to open my chakras. I picked up a drink and felt pretty

dubious, last thing I needed was to pick up some herb and be transported on some kinda pseudo-

spirit journey and smash into a guard rail while I was sobbing to the ghost of my grandmother

about how I never visited her enough.

The safest sounding thing was a drink called Kombucha, which proclaimed to be a living

drink full of yeast, but its flavor sounded harmless enough. Ginger, honey, and I think cranberry

but I cant remember exactly what it said it would taste like. I picked it up, hefted it in my hand,

and started wandering around for a cash register. As I did so I got lost in the maze of shelves.
The shelves all appeared to be equidistant, but as I continued through them they felt more

like a forest, more shelves seeming to appear from nowhere bearing even weirder fruit than the

half-melted fairies. Tall dark green bottles and even short clear ones containing lettering in some

script I could not recognize. It was mostly curls and circles, each letter seemed to be connected

to the next one. It wasnt cursive if thats what youre thinking, I can read cursive. It was like the

old English runes you can buy at renaissance fairs and tourist traps that claim to offer protection

and happiness for the wearer mixed with Tolkiens elvish. It was mesmerizing but something
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deep inside me told me not to look to close. Stare not into the abyss, for the abyss stares back.

That kinda feeling.

Still though as I wandered through the forest of shelves I eventually found a clearing,

illuminated by fluorescent light. Once I got to the clearing I realized I had just managed to get

past the shelves, and behind it stood a bored looking man with a scratchy black beard wearing

flannel. It was kinda hot for flannel but I didnt question it. I put the Kombucha on the counter,

he scanned it with a grunt, and I paid. My every intention was to be on my merry way.
Something about those bottles though. I was at the door but before I put my hand on the

knob I glanced back to where the counter was, obscured as it was by the shelves. I walked back

to it, and the bearded man was still standing there.

So I noticed youre selling bottles of paper, I said, looking him straight in the eye.
Mhmm, he grunted back. The beard was thick and covered his mouth so each grunt

made some of his hair bristle.

What do they do?
My question was greeted with silence. For a second I figured he might not have heard me

for some reason, so I retried louder and slower.

Whaaat doooo theee paaapers in the booottles doooo?
His moustache and beard curled into what I could only interpret as a smugly predatory

grin and he turned around, shouting Maaaaviiis! and opening up a trap door behind the counter

as he walked into an unseencellar? This was a trailer though, and I hadnt seen anything

beneath it. As he opened it, harp music echoed from somewhere beneath the door. My gut was

urging the rest of me to bolt back to the Jeep and head to the outer banks, but as they say,

curiosity killed the cat.

In a few moments, a new person emerged from the trap door. She was tall, pale, and

skinny, with curly orange hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore dark green flannel

over a tight fitting white tank top and thick looking jeans. She smelled like lavender.
Sup dude? asked in a husky voice, waving at me.
UhI should be going, I half-muttered.
Sure thing, she shrugged, turning around.
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Wait! I blurted out just as she was opening the trap door. A sly grin crossed her face as

she returned to the counter.

Whats in the bottles? I asked, cold sweat running down my back that wasnt from the

trip here. My hands began to shake.

Depends on the bottle, she said, leaning forward on the counter before throwing her

legs across it and making her way to the tall, dark oak shelves. She pulled a slender amber bottle

down and pointed to it, this one for instance cures dysentery.
What? I said, Thats dumb, you mean like a spell?
She winced at the word spell, then raised a hand to shush me, Spell isnt really the right

word for it. You see when you use one of these-
Wait youre really trying to sell me magic? I couldnt help but laugh.
She tapped a foot impatiently. Western culture really got the whole idea of magic wrong.

Youre not bending some magic spirit energy around you to your will, youre using ancient

words that were used to form the earth or calling the name of some spectacularly powerful

ancient being.
Thats crazy, I replied, turning towards the exit.
Whatever, chicken, she shouted back at me.
Again I was about to leave the store but honestly the whole idea intrigued me.
How about you prove this stuff works, I said, stopping where I was.
Sure she said, I could hear the shrug in her voice.
I walked towards where she was in the shelves as she retrieved a dark violet bottle. She

uncapped the bottle, pulled out a little piece of paper the size of a fortune cookies fortune, and

read off of it. A bright light flashed before my eyes then

Nothing. Nothing happened.
Neat trick, I scoffed, turning back to the door.
Whatever you say frog-face, she smirked back.
What did you call me? I asked, turning to face her.
She held up a mirror, and sure as the light of day my face had been transformed into a

dark green slimy mess, my eyes were bulbous yellow orbs. I put my hands to my face in case it

was some kind of magic mirror trick and was greeted by a thick coat of goo. At least in the

mirror my hand still looked human.

Believe it yet? she asked, still wearing a wry grin.
What the fuck? I shouted at the top of my lungs, heat rushed to my cold-blooded face.
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Everyone only gets one free sample, she continued, her smirk turning into an impish

grin. The spell to change back is only five bucks.

This cant be real, I muttered, patting my face again, and yet my hands only confirmed

the reality of my situation.

You should see your face, she chuckled.
This cant be legal, the mirror stubbornly refused to confirm what I was saying.
I handed her a five dollar bill, and in another flash of blinding white light my face was

returned to normal. The inside of my nose smelled like a swamp.

So what kind ofmagic do you sell here? I asked, still shaken and shaking from my

previous transformation.
Pretty much everything, she said, the impish smile faded to a smaller more genial one.
Everything? I asked
Yeah, she said, youre not one of those creeps that wants a sleeping spell so you can

roofie a girl without leaving evidence behind?

What the hell? I took a step back, do people really do that?
She shrugged, takes all sorts man, Snow White was pretty bad publicity for our shop.
I couldnt help but snicker at that, I guess I never thought of the story that way, I had

been told the German version was a bit rougher than the fairy tale Id been told as a kid.
She gave me a sour look but said nothing.
Anyways, I dont know, is there anything here that gives you fortune or dashing good

looks?
Nothing you could afford, she said, giving me another wry grin.
Jeez, I dunno, I shrugged, letting out a sigh, youre the one who said you carry

everything.
Yeah but youre better off taking only what you need, she explained, gesturing to the

bottles on the shelves. I mean when you use magic youre kinda messing with the natural order

of things.
Thats a given, I turned to her, it honestly all felt kinda condescending to me.
Have you ever seen one of those shows about time travel? she asked me, the ones

where time doesnt wanna be changed? Its like that. She plucked a dark grey plastic bottle off

one of the shelves, I mean this is a spell of infinite allure and I could probably sell you a rock
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for $50 and youd thank me for it if I cast it, magic just tends to want to even out stuff

eventually.
Wait what about my frog-face? I asked, how was the world gonna fix that?
She chuckled, that spell was only temporary anyway, and transformation spells never

last forever.
Okay fine, I grunted, feeling some heat rise to my face again, but how does a spell of

infinite allure wear off? Or a killing spell?

She winced at the last one, Look man, we dont sell killing spells here, youre gonna

have to summon a demon or something to get that done. As for the infinite allure spells, she

paused for a second and put a finger to her lips, I dont know, people who use those usually end

up going crazy narcissistic or doing something to ruin their reputation, sometimes both. If the

world cant directly undo what you did itll just take some kind of revenge on you for changing

things.
I let out a breath I was surprised to find I was holding in, I guess I dont need a spell

then.
That isnt true, she frowned, the shop only appears to people who need a spell.
I dont know, something to get me to where Im going faster? I knew it was a lie the

second it left my lips. I just didnt want to say I wanted revenge. I was a little ashamed of what I

wanted to do, and a little scared of what would happen to me if I tried something like that.
Are you asking me what you want to buy? she replied.
No, I guess not, I sighed, look I know you said you didnt carry any killing spells but

what do you have in terms of revenge spells?

Revenge spells huh? Thats pretty dark dude, she said, when I turned to look at her

though I saw she was wearing a serious look instead of a teasing one.
The best one we have is here, she retrieved a dark green bottle from the top of a nearby

shelf, just $20.

I walked with her to the register. I luckily had $20 in my wallet and handed it to her but

she shook her head.

Just because we sell spells doesnt mean we dont charge sales tax, she said. I snapped

my fingers and handed her my credit card.

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She handed me the bottle in a black plastic bag and said Dont read it unless youre

really ready for whatever comes out of that bottle.

I raised my eyebrows.
Look man, she looked me straight in the eyes, I dont want to tell you how to live your

life but that spell is pretty potent, you really shouldnt embark on a journey of revenge unless

youre really ready to just devote a few days to hunting down and hurting somebody. As

Confucius said, when you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
I brushed off the advice as I returned to the Jeep and drove my way to the outer banks.
I took a sip of the kombucha and spit it out immediately, it was fucking awful. Sourness

and bitterness fizzled over my tongue, and I spit it out before it could tear at the back of my

throat. I spat it all over my console and the gear shift was sticky the whole way to North

Carolina. The drink ended up only serving to freshen the air in the car, filling it with the scent of

fruit instead of dead rat, though the scents ended up mingling in a combination that smelled like

something had died while drinking a smoothie.

The rest of the trip was uneventful except my windows started working again near the

beach. It was dusk by then, and rolling them down let cool salty wind gush into the car, washing

the scent of dead rat from my nose and nipping at my cheek. Before I went to the condo my

parents rented I stopped at a gas station to inspect the wares I had just purchased. I asked for the

bathroom key and a fat man in a trucker cap and a tight plaid button-down that left far too little

to the imagination handed it to me. Dont do anything unholy in there, he huffed through a

double chin.
You have no idea, I thought, carrying the key with me and opening the bathroom.
It was your standard affair, flickering fluorescent lights with a few moths throwing

themselves against the bulbs, some unidentified liquid on the ground that looked like water but

smelled like piss. I brought the plastic bag in with me and pulled the bottle out, staring at it for a

few seconds before uncorking it andreading seems like the wrong word.
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When I looked at that paper, something happened. It was like I was watching myself read

it. The text seemed to float into my own mouth and even I didnt know what I was saying, but in

an instant there was a bright crimson flash and I was in control of my own body again.
I rubbed the stars from my eyes and realized in front of me there was a naked woman

with bat wings and loose black hair hanging obscuring her face kneeling before me.
What is your bidding? she asked. The skin on her wings was a light grey-blue and

seemed to glisten with some unknown substance, while what I could see of the rest of her was

pale.
W-what? I barely managed to stammer, taking a few steps back and realizing exactly

how small this gas station bathroom was.

She stood up, and I could see she was very wiry, appearing slender and harmless but as

she stood up her abs bulged forth in a way that was unnerving. Her eyes had yellow irises and

her pupils were vertical black slits like those of a snake.

You summoned a fury, mortal, she replied, I assumed you might have some idea what

to do if you were able to cast such a powerful spell.

A fury? Id read Greek mythology before but furies were rarely mentioned in them.

Still, summoning a spirit of revenge for only $20 was a hell of a deal and I couldnt deny I was

happy with the outcome.

Yes, mortal, a fury, she intoned in a bored voice, now if you dont have anything for

me to do Ill be on my merry way but if there was a reason you summoned me you may as well

spit it out now.

I want revenge on my friend! I managed. Her voice was cold and almost emotionless, it

seemed to shout cruelty and anger and a worrying lack of patience, and I had a feeling that if I

didnt point her at something she would blow up on me.

Go on, she said, sounding intrigued and yet still angry.
How many people can I take revenge on? I asked
That brought a nasty smile to her face, and her face split literally ear to ear, revealing row

upon row of teeth that looked like they had each been filed to a point. However many you want,

provided youre willing to accept the repercussions.

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I nodded. Whatever the world did to me, it would be hard pressed to make this victory

taste anything but sweet.

I want you to take revenge on my friends A____ and M___, I said, but even as I said

the words I felt a lack of meaning in them. They had hurt me, but I didnt feel like I wanted them

to be hurt, especially not by this hulking creature.

Youre sure about that? she asked
I thought you just wanted me to tell you what to do! I growled
Thats true, the Fury said, but ultimately youre hiring me for a service. The universe

decides at what cost but I dont see why you should pay dearly for something you dont really

want to do.
I dont want to do this then, I resolved, but that felt wrong too.
The fury shrugged, approaching me and putting a slimy arm around my shoulder, I

shivered when she did so but I appreciated the gesture. Look kid I do the whole intimidating act

so you know youre getting bang for your buck but youre not doing yourself any favors by lying

to yourself about hating people.

I do hate them though, I was sure of it, She broke my heart and replaced me with my

best friend, and I just never want to see her again. I never want to see him again. I dont wanna

see them together but I have to every day, I live with A____ and I know he sure as shit isnt

going to let her go even though he knows that would make me feel better.
The fury shrugged again. Then seek vengeance.
I dont know, if I could just get away from them and not have to see it every day, if my

mind didnt tease me every night about it I trailed off. I dont know I got hurt and I know I

shouldnt hurt back but its the only thing that feels right. She doesnt even care that Im gone, I

gently sighed through my nose, looking at my feet.

Sounds like youre going through some tough times, she said.
Tell me about it, I said, you know I have a friend named J____ and honestly every

time Im ready to just try to move on J____ tries to get me to go back and fix everything but my

friends B____ and R____ keep encouraging me to leave her, shit like I dont want to hurt her but
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she hurt me a lot emotionally. I at least want her to be sad Im gone. I felt it in my throat and

before I could choke them back I began crying.

Have you tried telling her that? asked the Fury
I dont know, I mean what does it accomplish? I didnt talk to her for a week straight

and I didnt get so much as an are you okay?

Maybe she doesnt know youre avoiding her.
Maybe not but my friend told me she did. Why doesnt she care? I dont get what I did.
Sometimes you dont have to do anything, the Fury said, giving me a sincere look,

sometimes people are just awful.

But she wasnt for so long, I managed through burning eyes, my vision a kaleidoscope

through the tears, she held me close and treated me nice, I dont get it!
I dont know, some people just use people like that I guess? Im not you, she removed

her hand from around my shoulder, and I realized I had sat down when I began crying. I cant

tell you why she did what she did, but you cant hold onto it.
Why not? I shouted, fury bubbled up to replace my sadness and I didnt try to stifle it.
Because you ended up here she said, rising to a standing position, now unless you

really want me to kill them I really gotta get going, good talk though kid, she reached under her

left armpit and handed me what looked like a business card.

Keep that in the bottle, if you ever make up your mind on killing those two give me a

call okay?
Yuh, I sniffled. I spent a couple more minutes after she vanished crying in the

bathroom, not even caring about the rancid stench of piss on the ground or the various numbers

promising me a good time. I eventually got up and got into the Jeep and drove to the beach and

had a great vacation.

So like I said, I guess Im still hurting about what happened but I legitimately have no

idea what happened to M___ and A____, and I really dont want to. Theyre dead but is that

really better? Sometimes I wonder if she died and was still faithful to her fiance or whether she

and A____ fucked but really I know that knowing that answer wouldnt make me happy. Id feel
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like shit if they hadnt and I accused them of doing it, and if they had then Id be right but that

wouldnt make me happy. Id just be right.

Thats my story anyways. You wont find that flea market unless you actually need it and

I doubt a search warrant or really any legal protection will keep you safe from whatever the hell

is in that shop. Ever since I washed my hands when I was walking out of that gas station

bathroom I decided to wash my hands of them, requiescat in pace and all that shit.