The Simcronomicon is a powerful spell book. Any hapless soul that lay their eyes on its tattered face and its arcane pages are cursed by its ritual. But a curse is a blessing in disguise. The Simcronomicon, though its origins is unknown, grants any wish to its victim.

As its pages are bound by an evil and arcane essence, failure to complete any ritual would guarantee damnation.

Be tempted. Pick a challenge and enjoy.*

*requires Sims 4 and a sadistic curiosity towards virtual people.

December 21, 2014

Chapter Twelve: Daughter

Sisi saw Isabel approach from the road, and she braced herself for the voices to ruin her day. Both, however, were silent. Isabel stopped a few feets from the bench and stared at her mother. Sisi asked her to sit down.

"What do you want from me?" asked Isabel, crossing her arms.

Sisi asked for forgiveness and an opportunity to reconnect.

"Isn't it a little too late?"

Sisi shook her head. It's never too late.

Isabel sighed and sat down. Sisi watched Isabel, waiting, anticipating on what she would say. She was tempted to look at the book, to read what's in her mind. But she hesitated.

"It's funny you chose this place," said Isabel, "I'd pester dad to take me here after school. Of course I'll do my homework. Sometimes I'd say I did, but not really. He would always take me here though. He'd play the sea monster, and me the pirate."

She then turned to the small pond next to them, "We were a team. I'd catch fish and he would cook them. Sometimes I'd get cowplant seed. We always tossed those out."

Sisi nodded, pretending she had heard this for the first time.

Isabel sighed and said, "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Isabel warmed up to Sisi after that day at the park. Sisi would visit her home, and when Isabel showed up at her mansion, Sisi would always take her to the park. When Isabel asked why they couldn't hang out in her mansion, Sisi made an excuse that the inside was in disrepair and in need of sprucing up. She would then segue to another topic, a feat that only a charismatic could do flawlessly.

Stories were exchanged; memories shared. Sisi spoke about her escapades, where some facts were changed for the sake of decency. She also bragged about her mastery in the arts and the achievements she had reaped. When the daily bonding happened at Isabel's home, Sisi would overwhelm her daughter's senses with a home-cooked meal.

"Tell me your secret, what keeps you young-looking?" asked Isabel over dinner.

Sisi choked and coughed out a morsel.

"I hope it's not blood from virgins," Isabel said, giggling at her own joke. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it's genetic and that I get it from you."

Months passed. Sisi had almost forgotten about the ritual of the thirteen, but the toll of time reminded her about it. Isabel's hair was turning gray.

"Do you like it?" asked Isabel. Sisi nodded hesitantly.

The lines on her face deepened, and the skin on her arms stiffened. Sisi felt a hollowness as she watched her daughter wither away.

Then there was the blotch of darkness that waited at Isabel's sidewalk. Sisi paid no mind to it, believing her eyesight was deteriorating. But during one of her visits, Sisi walked towards the lingering darkness. As she drew near it, it shrunk until it was gone. When Sisi walked away, the darkness slowly returned to its original size. From the window, Isabel sighed as she watched her mother struggle with her insanity. Yet Isabel opened the door before Sisi could knock. She greeted her mother with a hug.

The week after, Sisi called if Isabel was available, but she didn't answer. Sisi took out Isabel's book and flipped it to the latest entries. She screamed at what she had read and rushed out the door to hail for a cab.

When she arrived at Isabel's home, she flew to the front door, fumbled for her keys and pushed the door open. On the floor lay Isabel, her essence emanating from her lifeless body.

SHOULDN'T YOU BE HAPPY? WASN'T THIS YOUR WISH?, said a voice. It revealed itself to Sisi. It was the darkness that had waited outside. It slowly formed into the entity called Death. Sisi fell to the floor. She held her daughters hand and could still feel the warmth that remained inside.

Then the voices returned inside her head. Isis wanted to plead for Isabel's life. But The Third wanted to insult Death, to tell Death that the daughter's soul belonged to The Third. And the droning noise returned, the incessant garble that tortured her mind.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. And Death summoned his scythe and released Isabel from her body. The book cried and screamed inside Sisi's purse. She took it out. It trembled and shook in her hands.

MORTAL FOOLS, said Death, vanishing into the netherworld.

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