Epilogue

The decor was arranged to relax clients and patients. The walls were painted dark red, and the furniture were all made in leather. The windows were wide open, inviting the fresh air that hailed from the mountains. Medical books and journals were arranged in alphabetic order at one bookcase, while another was filled with children books.

Sisi was lying down adjacent to Dr. Wright. She stared at the ceiling, concentrating at the blank, white space above her. She then clenched her teeth and then squeezed her eyes, staving off the pain that assaulted her mind.

"Have you been taking your medications?" asked Dr. Wright.

"I have, and they get me to sleep. But..." said Sisi.

Dr. Wright looked from his writing pad, waiting for Sisi to continue.

"But I can't take them anymore."

"Why is that?"

"When I get to sleep, I return to that house."

"The abandoned house?"

Sisi nodded. "They try to pull me in, get me stuck in that house. I fight them off. Ghosts. You know they can be punched or kicked just like any other? Maybe in my dreams. I'm not sure if they're dreams anymore. When I get free, I run out of that house only to come back to it."

"Then how do you escape?"

"I drown."

Dr. Wright wrote on his pad. The notes were separation anxiety, guilt, abandonment issues.

"I drown myself until I come back to reality. But the crazy thing is, I cough out water."

"And you're sure it's not spittle or phlegm."

She shook her head and turned to Dr. Wright. Her eyes had the hint of defeat and of sleepless nights.

After their session, Dr. Wright prescribed the same medication but with a higher dosage. Sisi's narcolepsy had become a problem to her career. At the behest of her agent, she was scheduled to meet with her doctor every week to find a cure or at least a reprieve from her malaise.

When Sisi stepped out of the doctor's office, the sims in the waiting room recognized her. Even the affluent of Bridgeport asked for her autograph or a selfie. Sisi always agreed to it, and she forced her smiles.

Before she stepped out in public, Sisi wore her sunglasses. She checked herself on the mirror and fixed her hair, making sure she looked good for the paparazzi. At the edges of the mirror, Sisi saw them staring at her, peeking from the edges—the ghosts she had left behind.

Chapter Thirteen: Summoning

Sisi rocked back and forth with the screaming book close to her chest.

"Where are you? I can't see anything!" said Isabel. Sisi told her that everything was going to be alright, that she will take care of her no matter what. She stood up from the floor and walked outside into the cool midnight.

"I'm scared," said Isabel, her voice muffled through the book.

Sisi ran faster. She planned to leave everything behind and start anew in Bridgeport. Growing old and turning gray didn't scare her anymore. Not after this. She stretched her arm out and hailed for a cab. When she got in, she told the driver to head for the airport.

"No luggage?" asked the cabbie. Sisi shook her head. When the cab jumped forward, Sisi appeared in the middle of her mansion. Believing she was hallucinating, Sisi closed her eyes and forced herself awake.

"Mom? What's happening?" said Isabel.

When Sisi opened her eyes, she was still in the mansion. The indoor lights were out, but the moon glowered outside. Sisi exited through the front door and ran from the mansion. After thirteen steps, Sisi returned to the living room. She tried again, this time through the back door. She ran past the greenhouse, and after thirteen steps, she was back in the mansion. Sisi fell to her knees.

"Complete the ritual," said The Third, speaking through Sisi's mouth, "complete the ritual, and you can be free."

Her tears pelted the leather cover of Isabel's tome. Sisi begged The Third to take her soul in place of her daughter's. Grant Isabel immortality rather than herself.

"You think I want your tainted soul? Complete the ritual!"

Sisi sobbed at the inhuman tone of her voice. She stood up shaking and ambled towards the greenhouse. She knelt down next to an empty pot and planted Isabel's seed thus silencing her.

Powerless against the force inside, Sisi took all thirteen books from the bookcase and brought them all inside her mansion. The dining table was turned into a makeshift altar. While holding their book, she summoned the souls by invoking their name. At the last book, Sisi struggled to utter her daughter's name.

The souls appeared, their essence brightening the unlit room. They roamed her estate, wondering why they were summoned. Although Sisi was at the thick of it all, not one soul saw her—it was as if she was invisible.

Isabel and Cayden were finally reunited, but Isabel was still shaken after her recent death.

"Where are we?" asked Isabel, reaching out to Cayden and embracing him.

"It's your mother. Something to do with your mother,"

Isabel shook her head.

The ghosts screamed and ducked at something Sisi couldn't see. They watched the ceiling, and some huddled in the middle of the room. Something was trying to grab them. One of the ghosts flew backwards and was sucked into the walls. Another was picked from the ceiling and was gone. Cayden burst into bright red and dissipated in the air. Isabel sunk into the floor. She locked eyes with Sisi, and before she could call and reach out to her mother, she was already consumed by the house.

Stillness came. Sisi sat on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest and cried. She tried to purge all her guilt and all her regrets, but there was no end to her tears.

Morning came. No one spoke to her—not The Third, not Isis. Routine resumed, and the birds' song and the sidewalk bustle broke the silence. She was alone.

There was clarity, an ugly clarity: she finally got what she wanted. She chose this path; the burden was hers. Sisi stood from the floor and stepped out of her mansion. She sauntered away, took fourteen steps and never returned.

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.

Chapter Eleven: Eavesdropping

She had done it. She had finally sealed her daughter's soul to an infernal book. The Third reminded her that immortality will soon be hers. It was cause for celebration, but Sisi was disgusted at the thought of it.

She opened the book and began to read Isabel's mind. The latest chapter wrote itself, letters forming into words and into sentences, flitting across the page like a lit fuse. She read about Isabel's opinion of her mother, the one who didn't care for anyone but herself. Isabel had expected Sisi not to be in the funeral, and it would be a great relief if she didn't show up. The last thing she needed was an insane, selfish woman derailing someone's eulogy.

Sisi flipped to a different chapter, disgusted at what she had read, but mainly disgusted at herself. She read about Isabel's first kiss, a private and intimate moment. In it detailed the tingling sensation and the butterflies that had made Isabel giddy inside. Hearts were kept; heart were broken. Such was the cycle of life and young love. Sisi skipped at the part of her first WooHoo.

Sisi turned to an earlier chapter. She then landed on Isabel's first meeting with her. She couldn't read her mind then, but now everything was at the open. Isabel didn't think highly of her mother, and she was more of a stranger to her. However, her father always insisted that she will care for her and love her, yet Sisi had turned them away, had screamed at them to go and never come back. At that moment in her life, Isabel had cried because seeing her father tear up hurt her more.

Sisi closed the book and wept.

The funeral went on without Sisi. A week had passed, and Sisi remained in her mansion, alone. She fought with herself—not with Isis or with The Third. Just herself, debating whether to reach out to her daughter or not. She wanted to set things right, to return what Isabel had lost. A futile thought, but the minutiae of hope pacified her troubled soul.

After tending the garden, Sisi opened Isabel's book and did some research. From what she had read, Isabel loved the playground as a kid and had fond memories of it. There were entries where Isabel, even as an adult, would visit the park and reminisce the days of her youth.

Sisi mustered all her courage and took out her phone. She dialed Isabel's number. While she waited for her to answer, Sisi read the latest pages being written. Isabel did not want to talk to her so all calls were ignored.

After the fifth attempt, Sisi left a voicemail, telling Isabel that she'll be available by cellphone. If she wanted to talk and if she wanted to reconnect, Sisi would be at the park waiting for her.

The next day, Sisi went to the park, and while she waited, she read more chapters on Isabel's life. When she finished the chapter about the funeral, she flipped to the back and skimmed the current events. Just her luck, Isabel had been around the area, but had fled at the sight of Sisi. She closed the book and sighed.

Yet she persisted. Every day, she left the same voicemail and waited at the same bench. When Sisi caught up with all of Isabel's chapters, she remained vigilant at the newer entries, reliving the narrative that wrote itself before her eyes.

Finally, Isabel invited the thought of reconnecting with her mother. Like every other sim (as well as other sims in different realities), she debated with herself, thinking about the pros and cons of seeing her distant and insane mother. Sisi held her breath. When she turned the page, she smiled at what she had read. She closed the book, hid it inside her purse and waited for Isabel's arrival.

 

Chapter Ten: Suffering

Cayden rose from his seat and asked, "what am I doing here?"

She repeated the lie, telling Cayden that she had captured his soul so he can be released to a higher realm. Paradise.

"Did you capture Isabel too?"

Sisi shook her head.

"I don't believe you." Cayden disappeared before Sisi's eyes. Sisi called for him and ran outside to the living room, searching for him. She stepped out to the backyard and sprinted towards the greenhouse. Cayden was looking through the bookcase, skimming through the spines, taking them and throwing them on the floor.

Cayden reached for the Simcronomicon, and as soon as he grabbed it, Cayden was thrown backwards and vanished through the window. Sisi hurried outside, but Cayden was nowhere to be found. Sisi looked for him in the mansion and in her room. No sign of him anywhere.

The seed of guilt sprung within her soul, thanks to Isis tending its bud. Sisi didn't summon any ghosts for company. The thought of summoning them began to sicken her. Sisi holed herself inside her room. Days had passed; Sisi had buried herself underneath her blanket. She had forgotten to bathe and had been relieving herself on her bed. She thought of nothing but the futility of all her actions and of her worth.

Her phone rang which snapped her out of a week-long fugue. She didn't recognize the number, but Sisi still answered.

"Mom?" said the voice on the other line, "it's me, Isabel."

Sisi stuttered and acted surprised. Isabel had the tone of a mature woman. No more was the child's squeaky voice that had begged to see her mother, waiting at the front door, hoping she would answer and take her in. Sisi never did until now.

"Dad is dead," said Isabel without emotion, "just wanted to let you know."

Sisi asked if she was alright and if she needed company.

"His funeral is on Saturday," said Isabel and hung up.

Sisi redialed, thinking she was cut off by her faulty phone. But all calls went to voicemail.

Leave me a message, said the voicemail, followed by a long beep. Sisi tried again and again until a hollow voice whispered and said, why don't you write her name already?

Sisi threw the phone on the floor, but the voice bellowed through the speakers, stop wasting time, Sisi. You're not getting any younger. You want to stay young, don't you? It's why you're here. It's why I'm here. And I thank you for all these souls you gave me.

Sisi ran out the room, but the voice followed her. It spoke through the walls and in her head. Why are you resisting? What's the point? Don't fail me now, Sisi.

The room spun around, and the floor wobbled underneath her. Her mind throbbed and ached as if her skull was shrinking and choking her brain. Her bones rattled at every laugh and at every taunt that the voice yelled at her.

Write her name write her name, The Third said again and again. Sisi fell to the floor. Her vision blurred from the tears that cascaded from her eyes. She could hear Isis fight for her, but was drowned out until nothing was left but the deafening silence. Darkness gave her a momentary reprieve.

When Sisi opened her eyes, she felt refreshed. Her sight was clear. A choir of song birds preached at the coming sun, but their aria was silenced by Sisi's screaming. At the table was an open book and a pen. On page one, written in black ink, was the name of Isabel Little.

Chapter Nine: Ascension

Her hunger for food lessened. Her skin and her hair remained pristine. Bathing became a luxury rather than a necessity. Sisi learned new skills, and she mastered them faster than any sim. She became a legend in her neighborhood, a goddess of downtown.

The sims listened as the violin wept at her skillful grace. The sims were enraptured by her concerto flowing through ivory keys struck in passion. The sims laughed like zealots with every joke and gag she had thrown. The sims followed, and Sisi had them in her hands.

Even with her popularity, Sisi never forget her purpose. She sniffed them out and followed their trail. There were some who hid in the depths of the park, and there were some who were holed in the library. But her prey were excited rather than afraid. All were willing victims, unaware of their captivity.

Time ran, and death was at its heels. The old died, and their seed blossomed. The ritual was near fruition. Sisi only needed one more book, but Isis fought The Third's influence over Sisi. Only one name remained, and that was Isabel Little.

After finishing her hunt, Sisi disappeared from the public eye. There were fans who would show up on her doorstep, and Sisi would ignore them. Those who were captured in her books were received with open arms and then treated like royalty. And when they died, Sisi summoned them in their ghostly form. All were fodder to her ritual, but the time soldered a bond between a wolf and her lambs.

Yet some were doubtful of her intentions. When they asked what they were doing in her mansion, Sisi struggled to give an answer. She would talk and argue with herself until finally The Third took over her tongue. "We're going to a higher realm," said The Third in Sisi's voice, "higher than the netherrealm. It is paradise. And I promise we'll all be together."

---

When the walk to the top floor became tiresome, Sisi moved her rooftop garden to the ground floor. At the backyard, Sisi built a greenhouse for the flower offerings. She also moved the bookcase for convenience. It also enhanced the decor; it made Sisi smile like a proud mother.

While tending her garden, Sisi heard the screams from the bookcase behind her. She sighed and patted the dirt off her hands. She took out the book and gasped at the name: Cayden Little.

The abandoned family. It had been years since she had seen Cayden and Isabel. Whenever father and child had waited at her front door, Sisi would be paralyzed by the war of words inside her head. And when it got too loud, she would yell at them to go away, to get out. Those harsh words were meant for the voices in her head.

Sisi returned the screaming book on the shelf and planted a seed to silence it. Sisi always summoned the newly deceased to her mansion, but this time, Sisi hesitated. Sisi exited the greenhouse and headed for her room. She planned to write a new novel to maintain her income, but her plan was derailed by Cayden's ghost.

Chapter Eight: Rest

Sisi tossed and turned, but sleep never came. She drank warm milk to calm her senses, yet it never arrived. Frustated, Sisi went outside and worked the treadmill. She figured that tiring herself out was the answer to her sudden insomnia. As she ran at the highest setting, she wondered about Emery, thinking about the chapters in her life that were not meant to be seen, read or known. Such voyeuristic sins were delightful.

Sisi thought about the seed she had planted, the link to Emery's soul. Thinking about the seed prompted The Third to speak up, saying that negligence on Emery's flower would lead to dire consequences. Before The Third could elaborate, Isis interrupted The Third and told Sisi there was a way out of this mess. The voices went back and forth against one another until Sisi stopped her exercise. As she stepped off the treadmill, Sisi realized it was near dawn, the sun hinting its rise from the horizon. She checked her watch and gasped. She had been running for six hours.

Sisi took a bath and went to bed. She covered her eyes with her pillows, drew her blanket over her head, moved this side and that side. She closed her eyes tightly, counted sheep, counted the seconds that ticked and tocked on her watch. She was supposed to be exhausted after a lengthy workout, but her body said otherwise. Sisi threw her pillow and blanket off and stormed out of her room.

Sleep was her refuge from the voices. Without it her head clamored for attention. The Third told her to go downtown and look for more souls to harvest whereas Isis told her to burn the books and burn down the house. Sisi knelt down and screamed, hoping they would shut up, but the voices continued on and on.

She ran outside, hoping the voices wouldn't follow. She focused on the sound of her inhales and exhales, each breath working against the noise in her head. It worked. She ran faster, and she sprinted like a graceful fox skittering through the virgin woods.

Soon, Sisi found herself at the edge of downtown. She smelled their essence. All around her, the sims that passed her by, they all had the scent, the smell of their being. Essence. Love had the scent of warm honey while envy had the scent of frothing acid. Sloth had the scent of mold while body had the scent of musk. Sisi followed her nose to that intoxicating musk.

She entered the gym and locked on her prey. Like a skillful predator, Sisi pounced on her target by cracking a joke. It was a success. Her name was Sonia Pearce, a gym instructors at Movers and Shakers. They chatted and joked and sometimes pranked one another, and soon they were close. Sisi even got a free training from her. When their session was over, Sisi exited the gym and hounded for more.

By the time Sisi got home, she was energized rather than exhausted. She had gotten four names from her excursion. Their names were now bound on their own book of life. She returned to her bedroom and hoped for rest. As hours and days, weeks and months, a year and another went by, Sisi accepted she'll never rest in peace.

Chapter Seven: Flower Offering

The screams came from her bedroom. Sisi opened the door and was smitten by the grating echoes that funneled through. It was coming from the bookcase, and when Sisi ran to it, she saw a book tremble and shake at every scream it gave out. She fumbled for the book, and it fell open to the floor. The screams were amplified, making Sisi tear up from the inhuman shrill.

She sighted the Simcronomicon, reached for it and flipped through the pages. She scanned through the lines, searching for an instruction on silencing the wailing book:

Once a captured soul is released from its mortal body, the soul is bound to its book. The soul will be panicked, and it will communicate through the book with great clamor.

To silence the bound book, one must plant a seed as an offering to the confused soul. Utter and repeat the captured soul's name as you plant and water the seed. This will link and nourish the seed with the soul. The ritualist can now use the book to summon them for service or for company.

Sisi didn't know about the seeds or the offering ritual. She got up, ran out of the house and hailed for a cab.

An hour later, she returned with thirteen garden pots and a packet of lilac seeds. She went to the third floor and positioned the garden pots equidistantly. With her knees on the floor, she could feel the screams vibrating from beneath.

With the last pot arranged, Sisi chanted Emery Thornton's name. She planted the seed and watered it. The screaming stopped.

Sisi walked down the stairs to the first floor and entered her bedroom. Emery's book of life remained open on the floor. It was silent and still. Sisi picked it up and read the last pages of Emery's life. She read that Emery had met a handsome stud named Don Lothario, and she had invited him for a midnight WooHoo. The night had been so impassioned that Emery's heart burst in excitement—literally.

Sisi closed the book, gave out a sigh and returned it back to its shelf. When she turned around, Sisi screamed at the ghost standing behind her.

"Sisi? What am I doing here? And why is my voice weird and echo-ey?"

Emery moved towards Sisi and noticed that her legs were missing. And she was floating. Emery looked at her arms, her palms, her chest.

"I'm see-through! Why am I see-through? Sisi? What's happening?"

Sisi took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. Her first impulse was to reach for Emery's hand. When she took it, the hair on her arms and her nape stood on their ends, and there was a tickling sensation that pulsed through her body. Bliss—the feeling that she could stay awake forever.

"Sisi! Please!"

Sisi snapped out of her moment. She told Emery that her soul was safe in her hands and that her soul will be free soon. Sisi was uncertain about the souls being free and being safe, but one thing was for sure—they were in her hands.

"Why do you need us? What do you have planned?" asked Emery, doubtful of Sisi's intentions.

Sisi then told her a lie, a lie that she had not thought of nor had she control of saying. It was The Third taking over her tongue and saying, "because you will be saved. All of you."

Before Emery could respond, her ghostly body faded. She had said something, probably begged Sisi to do something. But her words were unclear like a drifting echo. Soon, Sisi was left alone. When midnight drew near, Sisi went to bed. She closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come.

Chapter Six: A Mother's Bond

Sisi woke up with a smile on her face and with the morning rays stroking her cheek. What a pleasant dream, Sisi thought as she stretched her arms to the heavens. When she turned to the end table next to the bed, she saw the steel cup that had contained the potion of youth.

The voices were quiet this morning. Sisi carried out her ritual by making breakfast, watching her shows and writing some novels. Each page she wrote was like writing a check to herself, and when she mailed the book to her publisher, she was cashing them in.

After finishing her latest novel “Die Trying 2: Don't Die Harder,” Sisi printed and bound the book. She sat up and made her way to the front door to mail it out. Before she could step out, someone knocked on her front door. Sisi checked the window to see who it was. Rabid fans were everywhere, and Sisi didn't have time to waste with them, especially if they were void of the essence she required.

“Sisi, I know you're in there!” said Cayden. Sisi ducked down before Cayden could see her.

“Why doesn't she want to see us?” said a little girl. Sisi's heart sank. She knew who it was, but she had never seen her face. Last she had seen her, she was still a newborn baby. Now, she was on her two feet and was talking—feats that marked her growth, feats that would captivate a parent's heart, feats that Sisi had missed.

“She's a mystery, Isabel,” said Cayden, now banging on the door.

Isabel. The name echoed inside Sisi's mind, the name rebounding as if trapped in a hollow chamber. Amid the tumult of her brain, The Third and Isis didn't help much. Isis commanded Sisi to ignore her lover and child, have them leave and forget about her. But The Third compelled her to open the door, to invite them for dinner and then to write her daughter's name on a book of life.

Or else, Sisi could abandon her road to immortality and turn into dust. Sisi shuddered. Her daughter's name droned on and on. So long as they were outside, there was no peace. Sisi screamed.

“Sisi!?” said Cayden from the other door. Cayden peeked through the window, shifted his angle and saw Sisi who had her palms against her ears.

“What's wrong, dad?” said Isabel.

He slammed his body against the door until it gave way. Sisi opened her eyes and was blinded momentarily by the light from outside. When she saw Isabel's glowing outline, the voices finally ceased.

“Are you okay?” asked Cayden, helping Sisi up from the floor. Sisi nodded. Isabel hid herself from the doorway, occasionally peeking and studying the woman who was supposed to be her mother.

“Are you sure? Looked like you were having an episode or something,” said Cayden. Sisi assured him that she was fine. She then changed the subject by offering Cayden and Isabel a home cooked meal—roast chicken that she had perfected recently.

Sisi and Cayden caught up with one another as they ate dinner. She learned that Cayden was a painter, and he boasted his earning from selling Pop Art masterpieces. When Sisi tried to converse with Isabel, Isabel would avert her gaze and pretend she didn't hear.

Sisi tried again. She asked how school was.

“Like you care,” Isabel finally responded, glaring back at Sisi.

“Isabel,” said Cayden staring down at her. Isabel stood up and walked away from the table.

As the day ended, Cayden and Isabel prepared to leave. Cayden went to the bathroom for the road. Isabel sat at the couch and was followed by Sisi. Sisi tried again to connect with her daughter.

“Well, if you really cared, then drop a line once in a while, will ya?” said Isabel in a scathing tone. When Cayden stepped out from the bathroom, Isabel jumped away from the couch and ran outside.

“Let's go, dad!” said Isabel.

“Kids,” said Cayden to Sisi, “We'll we see you again?”

Sisi nodded. She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sisi watched them walk away, and as they went further and further, Sisi felt a heaviness inside her heart. When they were out of sight, everything became lighter as if nothing happened.

Sisi closed the door and sighed. She wanted to cry it out, but her melancholy was cut short by a blood curdling scream coming from her bedroom.

Chapter Five: A Taste

She woke up gasping for air. She turned her head left and right and was relieved at the sight of her blanket, her dresser and her bookcase. Her bookcase. She was safe inside her bedroom, but the smell of morning disturbed her—it was midnight.

Sisi had a dream, but for Isis, it was a nightmare. After the third voice had corrupted their mind, Isis tried her hardest to evict the foreign being, fought to dissuade Sisi from listening to it. It was the darkness, the essence of eternity that opened the gap inside their psyche. It whispered glory and greatness and godhood. Isis saw it differently. She saw suffering.

There was no name attributed to the third voice. They just called it The Third.

Sisi argued with herself again, debated on the pros and cons of immortality. The big pro was not dying. But at what price? Sisi had never considered the price, and she had doubts after the birth of Isabel, a sacrificial child. It was a terrible word that Sisi wanted to erase from her vocabulary—sacrifice. Isis repeated it again and again just to convince Sisi to stop the ritual.

And it worked. Isis took control. The plan was this: take all the books of life and then burn it. Isis didn't consider the possibility of harming the souls bound to it, but it was okay. Isabel was safe since the child was not bound to any book. Isis got up from the bed, but before she could reach the bookcase, her legs stopped.

Images flashed in her mind. She saw herself. Her skin wrinkling and crusting and drying and turning into dust. Her eyes bore the expression of fear, and it burst into dust. As her skin and guts blew against the wind, her bones remained. Then it shattered like glass.

Sisi sank to the floor and screamed. Isis begged her to push on.

“A taste.”

The thrumming sound returned. She turned her head towards the door that led to the living room. The thrumming grew louder. It wanted her out of this room. It wanted her to forget the books. Sisi struggled to stand up as if her body weighed twice its size. When she balanced herself, she exited the room.

The lights were off outside. Only moonlight and the headlights from passing cars illuminated the inside of her home. She unknowingly stepped inside the kitchen and spotted a faint glow by the sink. Plumes of light emanated from the glow.

As Sisi neared it, she learned it was a steel cup containing a bright liquid. The liquid blinded her as she stared directly at it.

“A taste.”

She grabbed the cup. It was cool inside her palm, and it weighed as if it was made of air. The liquid sloshed around as she drew near it to her lips. Before she could take a sip, there were screaming and screaming, but the thrumming noise drowned it out.

A taste. Only a taste.

Chapter Four: Voices

Mr. and Mrs. Aset were wary of their only child. Sisi spent most of her time with her best friend that no one else could see but her. She looked as if she was talking to the air, to the grass, to the trees and to the toaster oven. If she was interrupted from her deep conversation with herself, Sisi lashed out. One time, her parents listened in on her dialogues, but they couldn't understand any word she was blurting out. For sure, it was not of the simlish language.

But Mr. and Mrs. Aset loved her anyway. Sisi was the heir of their legacy after all. They had given her the right education and the support to survive the next generation. As she grew to become a young adult, her parents told her of the legacy she would inherit. Sisi rejected them.

Her mother was distraught. Her father was incensed. It was the first time that Sisi received any yelling and screaming and swearing in her whole life. She was kicked out and was left with no inheritance, no simoleons, no support.

Homeless and penniless, Sisi slept at the park, enjoying her solitude and sustaining herself with what nature offered her. Fish from the lake fed her, and the voices inside her head accompanied her.

There were two voices: her own and her best friend Isis. Isis controlled Sisi's emotions. Isis was loving and affectionate when she felt like it, but she was also scary and dangerous when she wanted. Sisi sometimes tried to calm Isis down in her negative moods, and this struggle between two voices is what put people off.

Alone in the deep forest, Sisi stared at the night sky. The stars glowered bright as darkness surrounded the earth around her. She saw a shooting star arc across the heavens. Sisi made a wish. Her second voice, Isis, asked what she had wished for, but Sisi turned to her side and slept.

Morning came with a cool, calming breeze. As Sisi opened her eyes, the music of the birds were mute. She couldn't hear their music, the music that she listened intently to as the haze of dawn faded away.

A disturbing noise. Her eyes watered at the thrumming sound, warbling and garbling at the insides of her ear. Sisi called out to her second voice, but she didn't respond.

Sisi stood up, and the ground felt like it warped beneath her. The thrumming sound came from around her, above her and below. It was the trees, the grass, the gray sky, the coming rain. She reached for her bag, and the noise swelled. She opened the flap and found a large tome inside.

She jumped back and gasped. The book did not belong to her. She looked around, hoping to find a prankster watching behind the trees or bushes. There was no one there. She took the tome out and stared at it. The book had a tan color, and its texture felt like dried skin. On the face of the book was a large, black diamond that pulsed as if it consumed light around it.

Sisi stared at the diamond, peered deep inside its abyss. The thrumming sound stopped, and Sisi could only hear the whispers of an unknown being. It sang to her. It promised immortality.

Chapter Three: Books of Life

Sisi wanted to take her mind off her child. She called Emery Thornton, a friend from her past. She invited her over for spaghetti, a dish that Emery enjoyed. They caught up with one another, talked about Emery's mansion and the empire she had built from creating a videogame that had enslaved almost half of the population. Due to a non-disclosure agreement, the author of this entry is not allowed to divulge the title of said videogame.

The smell of parmesan cheese and freshly cut oregano suffused with Emery's essence—greed. It was pungent, a distinct scent from her recent captures. Greed smelled like an old newspaper drenched in gutter water and piss. Sisi held her breath and carried on, even though the smell made her gag.

After dinner, Emery said her goodbye. Sisi created a new book of life and wrote down Emery's name. She noticed how the words flowed naturally from pen to page. It was as if the book was writing itself. Her hand was merely a guide, a conduit of an arcane tale.

Sisi didn't know Emery's childhood, but the first chapter detailed how she was an only child and how she was raised by her two loving fathers. The next chapter told the story of the cowplant incident. It was the chapter in Emery's life that destroyed her family and her fortune. The death of her fathers was the birth of her greed.

Sisi closed Emery's book. She felt sick at reading every detail, every thought, every emotion that was available to her within pages. But her voyeuristic curiosity proved stronger after a couple of minutes.

Sisi reached for Cayden Little's book. As she skimmed through some chapters, Sisi couldn't recall writing any of the chapters. However, she did remember writing the last chapter, the chapter where Sisi had met Cayden for the first time. As she finished reading that chapter, she flipped to the next page and found another chapter she could not remember writing.

She read on. She read about Cayden's struggle with raising a child by himself. Isabel just started talking, and the child asked about her mother. As Sisi read on, she noticed that the empty pages were being written by a phantom writer. Ink appeared out of the page, and Sisi continued to read and read. The narrator was Cayden't thoughts, and Cayden thought ill of Sisi and her child.

Sisi closed the book. It was that moment the Sisi needed to confront her lover and meet her child. The third voice supported her on that decision as well.



 

Chapter Two: Birthing Blood

Sisi had the sudden compulsion to speak with a child, and she didn't hesitate when she sighted a boy that strutted in front of her home. She introduced herself, and the child was frozen in place as he witnessed her speak in tongues, which was normal for her insane self.

With the power of the Simcronomicon fused in her being, Sisi tasted the essence of soul. The boy's name was Marcus Matson, age 6.

It was said that music was the essence of soul. Marcus possessed the lilt of a singer and the confidence of a music hall artist. The child spoke of his CD collections, a bequethal from his father, passed down from legacy to legacy. As the minutes went by, Marcus said his goodbye to Sisi, and when Sisi returned home, she wrote down the name of the boy inside her book of life thus sealing the child to her ritual.

Three days later, Sisi felt something move inside her stomach. She wasn't hallucinating. Something was poking against her stomach. Sisi ran to the bathroom and tossed her grilled cheese from last night. It shouldn't surprise her at all, but the sensation of carrying something—a someone—irked her.

She opened her medicine cabinet and took out a stick for a pregnancy test. Minutes go by, and the test proved positive. She was eating for two.

Thrilled was not exactly the emotion she was experiencing. Rather, it was sadness. There was a tinge of joy since she was becoming mother, but in the end, the ritual was first. Always.

As a reasonable and respectable sim, Sisi called the father to tell him the news. He hung up as soon as she said the word. Believing that Cayden had left town and flew to the Simsahara Desert, Sisi sat down and thought the world as a cruel and lonely place. She was not exempt from this picture.

A knock on the door jolted her from that melancholy place, a place she was familiar with. She opened the door and was greeted by the shine of Cayden's pearly whites. He asked to feel the baby, asked when she was due. He asked what they would name the baby, asked if they would live together.

That melancholy place opened its doors to Sisi, beckoning her to come inside with promises of free milk chocolate flavored with morose. But she held her ground, and struggled to keep her smile. As the celebration of a soon-to-be father came to an end, Cayden begged Sisi to call him as soon as she was due.

Sisi closed the door as Cayden left. She touched her belly, rubbed it and patted it. A tear fell down from her chin to her navel.

When the time came to deliver the baby, Sisi didn't call Cayden. It was best to have the child and move it out in one quick motion.

Some describe childbirth as a magical process. In another reality, it is the stuff of horrors and nightmares that has screams, blood, knives and hooded beings. But this was another reality, a good and magical reality. There were screams, but there were no blood. Sisi held her tummy and, with one push, she gave birth to her child, a healthy baby girl.

She held the child in her arms, cooed at her and kissed her. What should she name her? And would Cayden like it? Sisi sifted through a list of names: Bo-Beep, Flim-Flarn, Habanube, Steve, Batman. She hit her head with her palm and snapped out of her insanity.

Isabel. A girls name. Wasn't it? After searching through the internet, Isabel is confirmed a girl's name.

She wanted to keep her, but the voice in her head, a third voice, a voice that was not her insane self, told her not to. The strong compulsion to leave the child outside her home was overwhelming, yet promise of immortality overpowered her. Sisi prayed to her deity. The child was taken away.

Chapter One: Lust at First Sight

Sisi psyched herself and pushed herself to meet new sims. She also argued with

herself that cream cheese is not made of moondust. This argument continued on while she exercised for a perfect body.

As she worked on her abs, Sisi felt vibrations in the air. With each passing sim, Sisi could feel their essence, the basis of all souls. It smelled like perfection, the scent of a well tended ambrosia. The scent began to gnaw at her soul, as it was forewarned by the Simcronomicon. Immortality waited for her.

Sisi caught sight of a man, a cute man with shaggy hair and a boyish mien. She stopped her reps and began arguing with herself again. She didn't know if she should introduce herself to the cute guy or to the giant boulder next to her home.

Sanity triumphed. Sisi walked down from her stoop and introduced herself to the

guy. And as the influence of the Simcronomicon had tainted her soul, she felt all of his essence, and the essence of lust swayed her. His name was Cayden Little, the first of the thirteen.

As stated by the Simcronomicon, Sisi was required to woo and flirt and tease

and woo-hoo with him although there was a footnote that states that being

boyfriends with them was enough. No matter. Sisi pressed on. Their talk led to titillating banter, and the flirtatious aura seeped through her like an engorged beehive that dripped of honey.

Days went by, and their bond strengthened. Sisi finally captured the essence of lust, and with it, Sisi caught something else that could lead to the second.