Blair Bathory

A thin red cord knotted tightly around a single glass bead painted with the evil eye. Malakio. I didn't know then how serious she was about it. To me, it was just one of the many little charms she pressed into her palms when she came to visit. Crosses, vials of holy water. But the bracelet felt different. It was warm, even when I left it on the windowsill.

A thin red cord knotted tightly around a single glass bead painted with the evil eye. Malakio. I didn't know then how serious she was about it. To me, it was just one of the many little charms she pressed into her palms when she came to visit. Crosses, vials of holy water. But the bracelet felt different. It was warm, even when I left it on the windowsill.

A thin red cord knotted tightly around a single glass bead painted with the evil eye. Malakio. I didn't know then how serious she was about it. To me, it was just one of the many little charms she pressed into her palms when she came to visit. Crosses, vials of holy water. But the bracelet felt different. It was warm, even when I left it on the windowsill.

After Nana passed, we flew back to her house in Calabria to help clean it out. Everything was heavy with dust and silence. The air inside her bedroom had an old weight to it, like incense left too long to rot. Her prayer books were still open on the nightstand. A half-burnt candle sat in a dish beside a bowl of salt gone gray. I found the bracelet in a shoebox at the back of her closet.

After Nana passed, we flew back to her house in Calabria to help clean it out. Everything was heavy with dust and silence. The air inside her bedroom had an old weight to it, like incense left too long to rot. Her prayer books were still open on the nightstand. A half-burnt candle sat in a dish beside a bowl of salt gone gray. I found the bracelet in a shoebox at the back of her closet.

After Nana passed, we flew back to her house in Calabria to help clean it out. Everything was heavy with dust and silence. The air inside her bedroom had an old weight to it, like incense left too long to rot. Her prayer books were still open on the nightstand. A half-burnt candle sat in a dish beside a bowl of salt gone gray. I found the bracelet in a shoebox at the back of her closet.

I hadn't even realized I'd lost it years ago. But there it was, still knotted. The red slightly faded. The eye in the center cracked just slightly down the middle. That night, I dreamt of her. She stood at the front of my bed, arms stiffed at her sides. Lips parted just enough to whisper something I couldn't hear. Her eyes were glassy, watching me too closely.

I hadn't even realized I'd lost it years ago. But there it was, still knotted. The red slightly faded. The eye in the center cracked just slightly down the middle. That night, I dreamt of her. She stood at the front of my bed, arms stiffed at her sides. Lips parted just enough to whisper something I couldn't hear. Her eyes were glassy, watching me too closely.

I hadn't even realized I'd lost it years ago. But there it was, still knotted. The red slightly faded. The eye in the center cracked just slightly down the middle. That night, I dreamt of her. She stood at the front of my bed, arms stiffed at her sides. Lips parted just enough to whisper something I couldn't hear. Her eyes were glassy, watching me too closely.

I woke with a taste of copper in my mouth and three deep scratches on my shoulder. I told myself it was nothing, a weird dream, sleepwalking maybe. We flew home. My father boxed up the few things she'd left to me. Rosaries, old photos, a small ceramic dish that always smelled faintly of camphor. I kept the bracelet in my room, I'm sure, if I wanted to wear it. That's when things began to shift.

I woke with a taste of copper in my mouth and three deep scratches on my shoulder. I told myself it was nothing, a weird dream, sleepwalking maybe. We flew home. My father boxed up the few things she'd left to me. Rosaries, old photos, a small ceramic dish that always smelled faintly of camphor. I kept the bracelet in my room, I'm sure, if I wanted to wear it. That's when things began to shift.

I woke with a taste of copper in my mouth and three deep scratches on my shoulder. I told myself it was nothing, a weird dream, sleepwalking maybe. We flew home. My father boxed up the few things she'd left to me. Rosaries, old photos, a small ceramic dish that always smelled faintly of camphor. I kept the bracelet in my room, I'm sure, if I wanted to wear it. That's when things began to shift.

The accident started small, a glass sliding off the counter without touching it, a candle tipping over when no one was near, my cat refusing to enter my bedroom even when I coaxed him. Then, the static. It buzzed through the walls at night, faint but constant. I thought it was electrical, maybe something with the wiring, but it wasn't. The power company found nothing. No faulty circuits.

The accident started small, a glass sliding off the counter without touching it, a candle tipping over when no one was near, my cat refusing to enter my bedroom even when I coaxed him. Then, the static. It buzzed through the walls at night, faint but constant. I thought it was electrical, maybe something with the wiring, but it wasn't. The power company found nothing. No faulty circuits.

The accident started small, a glass sliding off the counter without touching it, a candle tipping over when no one was near, my cat refusing to enter my bedroom even when I coaxed him. Then, the static. It buzzed through the walls at night, faint but constant. I thought it was electrical, maybe something with the wiring, but it wasn't. The power company found nothing. No faulty circuits.

No surges. Still, the sound grew louder every night. It wasn't just buzzing anymore. It pulsed, like breath through teeth. I tried to sleep with earplugs, with the TV on. Nothing worked. That's when I remembered what Nada used to say when we were kids. When the bracelet breaks, something has seen you. I checked the one I'd found in the closet. The crack in the eye had widened.

No surges. Still, the sound grew louder every night. It wasn't just buzzing anymore. It pulsed, like breath through teeth. I tried to sleep with earplugs, with the TV on. Nothing worked. That's when I remembered what Nada used to say when we were kids. When the bracelet breaks, something has seen you. I checked the one I'd found in the closet. The crack in the eye had widened.

No surges. Still, the sound grew louder every night. It wasn't just buzzing anymore. It pulsed, like breath through teeth. I tried to sleep with earplugs, with the TV on. Nothing worked. That's when I remembered what Nada used to say when we were kids. When the bracelet breaks, something has seen you. I checked the one I'd found in the closet. The crack in the eye had widened.

The cord was fraying. One morning, I found the bead sitting by itself on my desk. The thread had come undone entirely, and that night it saw me. I didn't sleep. I couldn't. Around 2 a.m., the air went still. The buzzing stopped suddenly. Everything was too quiet, like the house was holding its breath. Then the mirror in the hallway turned black. Not shattered, not fogged, just dark.

The cord was fraying. One morning, I found the bead sitting by itself on my desk. The thread had come undone entirely, and that night it saw me. I didn't sleep. I couldn't. Around 2 a.m., the air went still. The buzzing stopped suddenly. Everything was too quiet, like the house was holding its breath. Then the mirror in the hallway turned black. Not shattered, not fogged, just dark.