Bearskin
by Andreas Britz
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
conclusion
It took Ned a moment to notice the bearskin rug hanging inconspicuously on the wall above the TV set, like a Viking tapestry, the teeth reddened with human blood, Ned’s blood. He barely had time to raise the herb scissors when the rug leapt upon him, knocking him to the ground and began chomping at his chest.
The bear’s breath was hot and foul-smelling, like the air inside a slaughterhouse. Ned tried defending himself with the herb scissors, but these proved ineffectual and quickly came apart in his hand. With the bear’s snapping mouth inching closer and closer to his throat and feeling his strength greatly diminished, Ned reckoned his time was up.
No longer able to resist, he was about to submit to his grisly fate when he happened to look over at the Swiss army knife lying on the ground next to his head. The nail file protruded slightly from the handle, its sharp tip caught in a knot of carpet fibers.
Seizing the opportunity, he reached over, grabbed the knife and plunged it into the bear’s left eye socket. The clink of the knife hitting the glass eye was followed by a horrific wailing, the likes of which Ned had only encountered in his worst nightmares. A jet of steaming-hot blood shot from the socket, hitting Ned in the throat. He screamed for help once more, still fending off the creature nipping hungrily at his jugular.
Then, a moment later, all was still.
Ned suddenly felt like he could breathe again. His lungs decompressed and his vision gradually unblurred, allowing him to see his surroundings and to confirm that the bearskin rug was indeed gone from this place.
He stood up, teetering slightly, and bracing himself on some furniture, hobbled his way over to the phone on the floor. He picked up the receiver, listened for a dial tone and, this time, he got one. He dialed the number for an ambulance, explained that he’d suffered some unspecified accident and needed immediate medical attention, then hung up. He was strangely calm all of a sudden. His hands had stopped shaking and his heart rate had returned to normal, or near enough, anyway. He thought maybe he was going into shock.
Easing himself into a wicker-backed chair beside the fireplace, he sat staring at the space where his left foot normally would be, and thinking how sorry he was to have to miss the Kellogs’ party tomorrow night. They’d probably assume he was staying home in protest. It’s possible that they might call to remind him of the engagement, but he very much doubted it. They would remain enemies, it seemed, forever, or at least until one of them bumped the other off. The way things were going currently, it was no mystery who that would be.
Still, he wondered what they would say about him in his absence? What jokes and witticisms would be batted around the dining room at his expense? Imagine Mike Kellog trying to be witty! The funniest thing about him was his haircut; short and bristly, like a nailbrush. And those aviator sunglasses he insisted on wearing day and night, as if he had swastika-shaped pupils. He probably did.
Anything’s possible: The Bears could win the Super Bowl. He could regrow his foot. Judy could come to her senses and move back in.
Stranger things have happened.
* * *
“How you feelin’, Bud?”
When Ned opened his eyes, he found himself in a well-starched hospital bed, surrounded by three blurry individuals, one of whom was wearing a white coat. He blinked a few times until the figures looming over him gradually came into focus. Bill and Judy were there, holding his hands and exchanging concerned looks, while Dr. McCormac stood a few feet away, reviewing Ned’s chart.
“You’re extremely lucky to be alive, Mr. Gartner. Extremely lucky.” The doctor flipped the chart shut and bent over Ned to check his heartbeat. “Most people who encounter a bear of that description do not live to tell the tale.”
Still reeling from the cocktail of drugs they gave him, Ned worked some moisture into his mouth, lifted his head and said, “What description?”
“The one you gave before we put you under.” Dr. McCormac fingered the stethoscope around his neck. “You told one of the PAs that a bear attacked you inside your home last night. You said that you stabbed it in the eye with a knife, causing it to flee. We’ve contacted Animal Control and should hopefully hear back shortly.”
Ned tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his sternum kept him horizontal. Drawing breath was a chore. He noticed one of his arms was immobilized and his head was wrapped in several layers of gauze. Had he possessed a mirror in that moment, he likely would have smashed it against the floor.
“Told you that knife would come in handy,” his father-in-law said.
Bill, in contrast, was the image of perfect health with his wrinkle-free brow, straight, white teeth — all original — and hands as soft and smooth as a young maiden’s. He even appeared to be regrowing lost hair, defying medical science and making him look about twenty years younger. Squinting, he and Ned could have nearly passed for old schoolmates.
“When they brought you in,” the doctor continued. “your right leg was badly damaged. The foot itself was missing — likely eaten by the bear — and blood loss was a major concern. You were rushed into emergency surgery at 1:00 a.m. this morning. Your leg was successfully amputated just below the knee.” Dr. McCormac pulled back the edge of Ned’s blanket to reveal the gauze-wrapped stump.
Ned stared, wide-eyed, at the space where his right leg normally would be and tried to hold back tears.
“I know this is a lot of take in right now. But I want to stress once more that you are very fortunate to be alive. Try to get some rest. The nurse will be in soon to check your vitals.”
With those words, the doctor nodded to Bill and Judy, turned and left to go attend to his other patients.
Ned wanted to cry. He wanted to blubber into his pillow like a scolded child but managed to restrain himself.
Bill and Judy were sitting at the end of his bed, leering at him. After a few seconds, Judy turned to her father and said, “Dad, will you give us a minute, please?”
Bill nodded and then rose. To Ned’s surprise and embarrassment, he said, “I love you, son,” before making his exit.
Judy rolled her eyes, but Ned found himself tearing up once again. Once they were alone, Judy scooched closer on the bed and spoke softly so that no one could overhear their conversation. “First, I want you to know that I’m glad you’re okay, Ned, and I feel terrible about what happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault—”
“Just listen to me,” she said, firmly. “I’m happy you survived the attack, because, honestly, if you hadn’t...”
Her voice suddenly trailed off. After wiping her eyes and blowing her nose into a kleenex she had tucked up her sleeve, she went on. “I want you to know that I feel responsible for what happened and hope to make amends, starting right now.”
“I don’t get it. How are you responsible? It was a bear that attacked me. It was totally random.”
“It was a bearskin rug, actually.” Judy’s face turned a deep shade of red as she made her confession. “And it wasn’t quite as random as you say.”
Ned was silent. Judy was silent. An elderly man was crying out in agony in the background as one of his bones was being set, but neither paid him any mind.
“You have questions, I know.” Judy stood up and started pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. “And I will do my best to answer them. But the point I want to drive home is that I was angry and wrathful for reasons not entirely having to do with you and... well... I sort of made you the scapegoat.”
“I had my leg chewed off by a piece of décor,” Ned hissed. “What exactly are you telling me right now?”
Judy sat back down and started fidgeting with one of the tubes taped to Ned’s arm. “You called my house after midnight and threatened my boyfriend. I was seriously pissed.”
“It might be the drugs I’m on,” Ned retorted, “but the way I remember it, he threatened to kick my ass.”
“Regardless, it was a knee-jerk reaction and I apologize.”
“For the last time... what are you saying, Judy?”
“It was me,” she admitted, angrily. “I enchanted the rug. I made it come alive and maul you. I’m the wicked one.”
“Come again?”
“I’m a witch, you dummy.” She drew a rough pentagram in the air with her finger. “Don’t tell me this is news to you. You know all about my past... er... interests.”
“I know you used to be a Wiccan.”
“It was more than that. Honestly, Ned...”
“You used to pour salt on the floor and brew strange potions from time to time.” He managed to crack a wry smile. “Dance around naked in the woods with your New Age friends.”
“I never did that,” Judy protested.
“Really? Must have been one of my other ex-wives.”
She tittered. “We all have to start somewhere. I’ve moved beyond all that now. I’ve become highly proficient in the dark arts.”
Ned gestured to his stump. “Clearly.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“Prove it.”
Judy looked over both shoulders, making sure there were no nurses or doctors within earshot. Then she reached over and plucked a hair from Ned’s head and wrapped it around her little finger.
“Ouch! What’d you do that for?”
“Just wait,” she said, sticking the finger in her mouth for a few seconds to get it damp, then held it up for Ned to see.
“Okay?”
From her coat pocket, she then produced a small obsidian stone the size of a quail’s egg and held it against the finger with the hair. For a solid minute, she mumbled cryptic incantations, punctuated with heavy breathing and odd, unpleasant throat-clearing. At last, when she’d finished, she returned the stone to her pocket and wiped the wet hair on her knee.
“All done.”
Ned was starting to believe his wife was stark raving mad.
After getting no reaction, Judy groaned and said, “Your leg, silly. Look down at your leg.”
So saying, she drew back the blanket on the bed to reveal a healthy set of legs and feet. The bloody bandages had vanished; ten completely intact toes stared back at Ned, miraculously restored. Suddenly overcome, he let out a short scream, which Judy quickly stifled with her hand. “Quiet, for heaven’s sake. You want the whole damn hospital staff to come running?”
“How did you... I mean... it doesn’t make—”
“Sense?” Judy interrupted. “And being mauled by a bearskin rug in your living room does?”
“So this means the whole time we were together, you were—”
“Putting hexes on people? Not really. This is complex stuff, Ned. I’ve spent years honing my craft to be able to do even the simplest enchantments.”
“What else can you do?” Ned asked, suddenly curious.
Judy thought for a moment, then said, “I can brew potions that improve one’s constitution.”
Ned took a moment to ponder his ex-wife’s words, feeling the mental fog brought on by hard, intravenous drugs slowly lifting. When at last the truth dawned on him, he couldn’t help but smile from ear-to-ear. “Your dad?” he said. “You’ve been de-aging him this whole time.”
Judy nodded.
“So it wasn’t my imagination? He really is getting younger?”
“In appearance anyway.” Judy waved her hand, nonchalantly. “It’s too soon to tell whether the elixirs I’ve been giving him will actually increase his lifespan. But they’ve certainly done a wonder for his complexion.” Then she added, “Don’t tell him, by the way. Not sure how he’d take the news that his little girl’s a witch.”
“So... like... do you have a cauldron?”
The two laughed, then Judy leaned down and planted a big kiss on Ned’s cheek, causing him to blush.
They held each other’s gaze for a long while. For the first time in months, Ned felt truly happy. He wanted to believe that they could patch things up, give their marriage another try, though that might have just been the narcotics talking. As Judy said, it was too soon to tell.
“Wait a second. What are we going to tell Bill about my leg? As soon as he sees I’m bipedal again, the jig will be up.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Judy replied, confidently. “Nothing a bit of black magic can’t handle.”
“One last question. Where did the rug go? After it left me for dead, I mean?”
Judy shook her head. “Beats me. Probably back to the thrift store where you got it.”
Ned smiled and said, “We’re safe, then. I doubt anyone working there will have noticed.”
Copyright © 2025 by Andreas Britz
