Questions at Midnight
When was I born? When will I die?
‘When was I born?’
‘When will I die?’
Those two questions had haunted Naomi for weeks now. Not so much the first; she knew what her birthday was, so no surprises there. The second though, the second kept her up at night. Her days weren’t any better. Food felt like it stuck in her throat, and even the simplest of tasks were hard to do.
All she did was think about it.
It consumed her, because the entity that had answered the question only said one word.
‘Soon.’
The game required something special to her, a cherished childhood keepsake. A security blanket, a toy, a stuffed animal even. Naomi settled on her old stuffed cat. She’d carried it everywhere when she was a child, to the point that its white fur was looking a little more beige now.
It’d be perfect.
There’d be clear skies for the next few days, which was important. For reasons not explained, the ritual couldn’t be performed on a stormy or windy night.
All she needed was herself, the toy, a flashlight, and a room big enough to walk precisely twelve steps into in a straight line. The back room that she used mainly for storage fit the bill nicely. There wasn’t that much in it right now anyway, so it wasn’t like it was cluttered or anything.
At the stroke of midnight she began, carefully counting out twelve steps as she went into the back room, placed the stuffed animal on the floor and walked back to the threshold, closing the door behind her.
“Mother Midnight, take this key. Mother Midnight, you are free. Mother Midnight, let me see.”
After a few seconds something sounded like a woman crying, but from far away. Gradually it grew louder until it sounded like the crying woman was just in the next room.
Slowly Naomi opened the door and turned around, shining her flashlight into the gloom.
Standing in the middle of the room was a pale woman with very long, dark hair. Her black dress seemed old-fashioned, but Naomi couldn’t place exactly what time it was from. Mother Midnight looked down at the stuffed cat on the floor, seemingly ignoring anything else.
Time for the first question.
“Mother Midnight, when were you born?”
Without taking her eyes off of the stuffed animal, the woman spoke in a low, quiet voice. “January 9th, 1895.”
“Mother Midnight, when did you die?”
“January 9th, 1925.”
Exactly thirty years. She almost wished she could keep talking to the ghost, asking her more about herself, but that wasn’t permitted by the rules of the game. The only things you could ask Mother Midnight were her birth and death dates and yours.
“Mother Midnight, when was I born?”
Once again, the woman spoke in a low, quiet voice. “July 16th, 2004.”
That was her birthday alright.
Naomi shivered a little. Even though it was early summer, three weeks from her birthday in fact, she felt cold. For a brief moment she was tempted to end the ritual without asking Mother Midnight that final question. Did she really want to know? Was she prepared for that knowledge?
Yes. Yes she was. That was the whole reason she went to the trouble of doing this.
Mother Midnight waited, motionless and silent. Taking a deep breath, Naomi asked her final question.
“Mother Midnight, when will I die?”
The woman turned her head, looking right at her with milky white eyes. Rather than a precise date, she spoke only one word.
“Soon.”
Naomi had burned the stuffed cat. You had to destroy the item to prevent Mother Midnight coming back for it. Before the game she had felt a little sad about disposing of something that was so important to her, but afterwards she couldn’t do it fast enough. Just looking at the thing sent her into a panic.
It took her over a week to set foot back into that room too. Supposedly it was safe after sunrise, but she wasn’t so sure. It felt cold in there, far colder than it should be.
Thinking a change of scenery might get her mind off of things, Naomi decided to go for a walk. It was a nice afternoon, not too warm, not like it’d be once summer really got underway.
It worked for a little while, but soon enough she found her thoughts wandering back to the ghost’s grim prophecy.
She’d thought that Mother Midnight would tell her exactly when she’d die. She also figured that date would be quite some time off, so she could plan accordingly from there. But no. Not only did she have less time than she thought, all she got was ‘soon’.
What did ‘soon’ mean? Next week? Next month? Next year?
Naomi was so preoccupied that she didn’t even notice the car speeding towards her when she stepped into the street.
This installment of The Cobweb Game was inspired by Mother Midnight, a ritual game you can read about here: https://theghostinmymachine.com/2020/10/14/the-most-dangerous-games-mother-midnight/
OMG! Loved the mystery and suspense as always. :D Sad that she had to burn her stuffed cat :( . But burning it didn't save her, either. Ironic that she was so spooked by Mother Midnight and the room, when in reality, it was the car in the middle of broad daylight that was the danger...
Really enjoyed this Lauren. Got American Gods vibes and also a little bit of Barker thrown in there for good measure 👍🏼