Dante used two fingers to create a small opening between the blinds. The townsfolk went about their daily errands as he isolated himself in his bedroom. Unlike the past few weeks, he kept his abode cold and dark as if it were a hidden base deep underground. The people here seemed too comfortable. How could his neighbors go on each day without noticing the strange happenings? From the once-darkened church at the edge of town, becoming active with late-night meetings to the strange deliveries arriving at his house, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.
Of course, he didn't expect his sister or her schoolmates to pick up on the eerie events, but adults should've known better. Dante scoffed and returned to his desk. He turned on his lamp to allow barely enough light to read the letters laid in front of him. At first, the mysterious sender wrote incoherent ramblings, but over time, they became understandable. He sat down and cracked his fingers.
Dear Dabria,
I sense you long to find a community. We know of your mother's history with those sweet birds, but now, it is your turn to take the mantel and embrace us with your new feathery companions. We welcome you to our Weekend gatherings. Our church is at 742 NE Trailway Ave. Our religion is not one you may have heard of, but we'd like to speak of it to you in person.
Best regards,
F.F
Dante circled the address in red marker and underlined the initials. Who was this man? Was it even a man? He scratched his head as he lost himself in thought. Not only were these letters coming day after day, but after reaching out to his mom, she refused to speak about it. She simply told him, 'You're just like your father, too curious.' Of course, not only did her refusal to help him solve the mystery infuriate him, but speaking ill of their father never happened before. Days after Dabria's birth, he passed away, and his mother never stopped talking about him, and for some reason, she showed guilt and remorse. Going on about how, if she were normal, he'd still be with them.
Dante slapped the side of his cheeks to get himself back into focus. This man contacted Dabria, a young child, instead of seeking a parent or guardian for a meeting. Dante reached below his desk and pulled out a drawer. Inside it hid a postcard along with a children's book. The postcard arrived two days ago, and the book arrived yesterday. The card bore a painting of a church while the book showed a teenage girl with blonde hair and fair skin standing in front of a background depicting black birds taking to the skies, and the only text was the name 'Anahita' embedded into the spine.
He ran his fingers over the cover, feeling the rough texture left behind by the paint. And despite spending extensive hours in their local bookstore, he never saw this work or anything like it. Even the town's librarian had never seen a copy, but whoever made it took their time. Dante laid it on his desk. He flipped through the pages, hoping to make some annotations just as he did with the letter and postcard. But when his marker hovered over the page, a powerful force pushed back.
He felt the same sensation yesterday. No. He forced himself to fight back, to leave at least one drop of ink, but the invisible force field stood its ground. The face of the girl in rags stared back at him with her red eyes. She stood in the middle of a village. Knights circled her, pointing the tips of their swords at her throat. Without words in the book, Dante didn't know what the story was, so he only planned to circle whichever images stood out to him. He tried to force his hand downward, but to no avail. Sweat dripped from his wrist, and his heart rate spiked.
But eventually, he managed to leave a red mark right above the girl's head. He smiled for a moment, taking it as a minor victory. However, after a few seconds, a sharp pain entangled the veins inside his wrist. He gripped it and fell to the floor, screaming.
"God Dammit!" He writhed on the ground, knocking over his chair. Within seconds, his mom stomped into his room.
"Dante! What happened?" she asked. The woman knelt beside him and lifted his head onto her lap. Dante squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the pain would leave just as quickly as it came. He breathed in slowly and exhaled with a controlled breath. However, his mother's intense glare toward the book didn't give him a chance to relax. "Didn't I already tell you to leave this thing alone? To stop worrying about our mail? They're not meant for you! They're for your sister!"
Dante rolled off her lap and lifted himself off the ground. "Are you crazy?" he asked. "Yes, they're meant for Dabria, but don't you think they're eerie? Isn't it weird that this mail is asking her to meet them at that church? The one that's been empty for years?"
His mom shook her head. "You're getting too worked up about this. Just leave it alone. Let me handle it."
"But you're not handling it." He gritted his teeth. Never did he feel any sort of tension between him and his mother. His whole life, he appreciated all the hard work she put into raising him and Dabria, but now, he couldn't find any reason to justify her actions.
"You're just as obsessive over mysteries as your father!" As soon as the words left her mouth, she turned away, and Dante recognized the pain on her face.
"Mom, you're not yourself. Please, listen to me." He put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled back. No matter how much he begged, she wouldn't listen. And her behavior only made Dante's mind run wild with questions. Questions asking who F.F. was and the members of this mysterious church.
"I'm sorry, Dante," she said half-heartedly.
After the pain in his wrist subsided, he shook it to make sure he felt nothing else. Two flicks were enough to assure him he was fine. "Mom, why are you so adamant about not doing anything? These letters? This person with the initials F.F. It's odd." His voice trailed off, and his mom sat on his bed. The sheets wrinkled underneath her weight, despite her skeletal frame.
"I don't enjoy seeing you this way. You're well on your way to graduating high school, so why don't you focus on your studies? Stop worrying about these letters." She patted the spot beside her, waiting for him to sit down and talk, but he declined.
"No, not while someone's out there spying on Dabria." He eyed the notes and the book. By now, his mother clutched them tightly to her chest. Dante scanned her and wondered what her reaction would be if he snatched everything.
"Your father was also stressed before he passed. I hope-"
"Mom, what happened to him? Why were you so adamant about blaming yourself for his death?" His mother stood from the mattress without answering him. He reached out to grab hold of her wrist, but her brisk pace toward the doorway prevented him from doing so.
"Don't forget to pick up your sister from school today. You know that girl likes to wander around town window shopping."
"Mom!" he wanted her to stop and answer his questions, but she already shut the door. "I'll bring her home right away," he muttered to himself. Once he heard the grandfather clock chime from the living room, he put on his leather jacket and went downstairs. His mother walked around the kitchen, preparing food, and as they made eye contact, Dante felt a tinge of regret coming. No matter what, he'd find F.F. and ask the stranger about their intentions with his sister.