《The Book of Apotato》


 Bound to Secrets

    ¡­esaeu naozzes l''taeuhgr''q gae yiz ¨C apotato.


    ¡°Memaw was probably deep into dementia when she wrote this, the poor thing.¡± Emily thought.


    The enigmatic words were there, written in reddish ink; they had been handwritten upon the very first page of that musty tome, a collection of yellowed pages that her grandmother used to cherish as her journal. Emily¡¯s grandmother had passed two weeks before, so there shouldn¡¯t be any problem in giving it a peek. Maybe her teenage years had been full of superfluous adventures?


    Emily flipped a few pages. Almost immediately, her nostrils were hit by a wave of dampness. Her memaw¡¯s journal had been found stuck behind a wooden armoire and what looked like the moldiest wall possible to have inside a house. Now, Emily had it opened on the desk in her bedroom, under the light of a cozy table lamp.


    ¡°Atchoo! Whew, bless your heart, memaw. Now I have some decade-old spores in my lungs.¡±


    After the fungi cloud settled down, Emily was finally able to read a few lines on the page. They carried a boring story on a birthday her grandma had ¨C when she turned eighteen. There had been some sort of dancing party at the barn of a farm, and Memaw had gotten interested in a guy. The guy¡¯s name was not that of Emily¡¯s grandfather¡­ So maybe that had been her first crush.


    As Emily kept flipping the pages, they were full of even more tedious stuff. Living back in the middle of the past century as a young lady had not been eventful. House chores, helping her mom, being courted by the community¡¯s men¡­


    Then, right around the center pages, the writing ceased. Weird. Several blank pages came after that, and it took a number of them before her grandmother¡¯s calligraphy made itself present on the pages.


    The wait, however, was worth it. A single sentence had been dropped at the bottom of the page:


    Today, I ate mashed potatoes.


    Emily gasped. Not in a million lifetimes she could have guessed her sweet memaw had once eaten mashed potatoes, as she didn''t use to be adept of the smashed cuisines. Her heartbeat accelerated as if racing to reach the following pages, and her fingers followed suit, flipping away.


    The next page had more smashing details.


    This has to stop. It has been five times, five times! I dare not write its recipe here, because I fear Dad will find this out. I think he could pretend he didn¡¯t know about it if it were just a silly thing between two silly people, but if he ever knew what it was that I ate, that would certainly shame him in the community. I do not know why I feel like I must write this here, as it is risky; but I must tell someone or I can explode!


    Emily¡¯s fingers kept on digging her memaw¡¯s secret out of the past. That was very shocking¨C and fascinating!


    So, Dad learned of it. He says he doesn¡¯t want us mingling with the Bakers anymore. The way he puts it, it¡¯s like Mrs. Baker put a spell on me, a curse! She fed me potatoes, of course, but I enjoyed it very much. Now Dad wants to take me to someone who can fix me.


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    ¡°Ugh. I¡¯m glad I never met the jerk.¡± Emily said to no one, as she was alone. Then she flipped the page and saw a loose photo of a potato, recently picked. Could that have been Mrs. Smith''s vegetable? It sure looked tasty and fresh, so Emily¡¯s memaw appetite for her had been more than justified.


    Under the photo, more words:


    We went and saw this Indian fortune teller of sorts. At least, that is what I think she was. Dad asked her to break my curse, and then she made me say a very strange phrase, ¡°esaeu naozzes l''taeuhgr''q gae yiz¡± while looking at Mrs. Smith¡¯s potato''s picture, three times. Then Dad paid her a large sum of cash. I wonder if Mom is watching us from the heavens, and if she is ashamed of me too.


    Emily recalled the weird gibberish from the first page of the journal, so she went back to check if it matched the phrase her grandmother chanted. They were the same, except for the last word, Apotato.


    An uneasy feeling crept up Emily¡¯s stomach. As a scientist ¨C a mycologist ¨C she didn¡¯t really believe in mystical or occult stuff. But for some reason, passing her eyes over those enigmatic words made her fear something. It felt wrong.


    As she turned the page, Emily was greeted by another chunk of blank pages. The only page that had something written happened to be the very last one. And it said something, alright:


    I reckon Apotato killed Dad.


    Now that had taken a turn that Emily didn¡¯t like at all. Her grandmother used to tell Emily that her great-grandfather had died of a heart attack, so what was that about someone or something killing him? And besides that, ¡­ What was Apotato?


    Dizziness made its rounds in Emily¡¯s head. She wished her memaw was still alive to ask all about those final pages. But that had to be a maddening secret, one the old woman wanted to take with her to the grave, and there was no way of knowing the journal even existed until a few days before then.


    Compelled by some unknown force, Emily slowly got back to the first page, the one with the supposed spell on it. The red ink it had been written in now looked¡­ wet. Yes, that was it. That was the cue for Emily to shut that book and get ready for bed. All those fungi were probably rotting her brain away, anyway.


    In a few minutes, Emily was in her purple satin pajamas, which had been a present from her grandma. She grabbed her nightly friend, a colorful unicorn, and set it on her nightstand, in preparation for her little story time before falling asleep. Since the table lamp was still on, she walked toward it¨C and saw the journal again, with that puzzling sentence etched in the paper.


    She figured that giving it a try wouldn''t hurt. It was all doohickey, anyway.


    ¡°Esa¡­eu naoz¡­zes l''ta¡­euhgr''q gae yiz¡­ A-po-ta-to.¡±


    Her head hurt at the same instant she pronounced the last syllable. It was a stabbing pain. When Emily attempted to look around her, everything was blurred.


    ¡°Oh, no. Stroke. Dying¡­!¡±


    When she was just about to faint, Emily heard a sound that filled the small bedroom. It was an a stupid, funny male voice.


    ¡°Bless your lucky starch, girl. It¡¯ll pass, as it always does. I can¡¯t believe you¡¯ve gotten this weak over the years. Then again, it¡¯s been a loooong time, hasn¡¯t it? You''re a real spud.¡±


    The voice was unnecessarily cheerful. Emily sat on her bed, and the pain was just starting to go away. Her sight was getting sharper as well¨C sharp enough to notice she was not alone anymore.


    An oval silhouette was close to the door, near the table with the journal on it. The blurry image looked as if she was completely still.


    ¡°Come on, now. What hash come over you?¡±, the voice asked.


    ¡°Hash? Who¡­ Who are you? I¡¯m calling the police¡­ in a bit.¡±


    The silhouette rolled closer and stopped in front of Emily. Whatever it was, it smelled good. A sweet, potato-ish smell.


    ¡°Is that you, Maria?¡±, it said nonchalantly. ¡°Sure looks like you¡­¡±


    It straightened its potato spine and seemed to go toward the door. Then it changed course and reached for the table lamp, pointing it at Emily¡¯s face.


    ¡°Girl, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve done, but you look younger!¡± she concluded.


    ¡°Who¡­ the hell¡­ are you?!¡± Emily blurted out, finally regaining her full senses.


    The shadowy figure then moved its pointy end toward the table lamp, shining light onto herself. Finally, Emily could check the invader out. It was a small, slender potato who looked to be as fresh as it could be, It wore nothing, because it was a potato.


    ¡°See? It¡¯s me, Apotato.¡±

 A chip off the old block

    ¡°You know too well that thing there doesn¡¯t work on me, Maria, dear,¡± said Apotato, as it watched Emily doing the Christian sign of the cross over her chest over and over.


    ¡°You¡­ Go back to hell, demon! What are you?!¡± cried Emily.


    ¡°But¡­ But it was YOU who called me. Now you want me to go home. Pfft. I know your mind hasn¡¯t been well for years, but I still had some hope, since you were able to say the enchantment.¡±


    Emily snapped. She grabbed her heavy backpack, that rested on her bed, and threw it at the potato, who fended it off with magnetic powers.


    ¡°Maria, come on¡­¡± Apotato had just started to complain when Emily lunged at it, yelling and slapping it all over its peel.


    ¡°GET OUT!!!¡±


    Apotato barely felt Emily¡¯s tiny hands on it. They felt like a desperate mosquito trying to fight against a hand that was just about to smack it down. It shook its potato head, clearly disappointed at its ¡°Maria¡±. Then, in a flash, its supernatural force grabbed Emily¡¯s arm and lifted her up from the ground.


    ¡°Enough of this shit. What¡¯s gotten into you, Ma¡­ri¡­a?¡± said it, arching its eyebrows at the sight of Emily¡¯s face, ¡°You¡­ you are NOT Maria! Deceiver!¡±


    Emily was shoved away from the mysterious vegetable and fell on her bed. Immediately, she started to beg for her life.


    ¡°Please, please, please¡­ don¡¯t kill me, demon¡­ Let me be¡­¡±


    Apotato flicked the light switch on, then leaned forward and directed a stare full of angry daggers at Emily.


    ¡°Kill you? You should know better, girl. You summon me, and you don¡¯t even know who I am and what I like?¡±


    It moved closer to Emily, who yelled, ¡°Stay back!¡± Apotato rolled its eyes It took Emily a while to see that whoever Apotato was, it didn¡¯t have any intention of outright killing her. She let a relaxed sigh out, even though tension was still lingering.


    ¡°Can I get closer? I need a better look at you,¡± said Apotato.


    Emily didn¡¯t answer. The hellspawn insisted.


    ¡°Come on. It¡¯s not like I have all day, you know. Just a closer look, that¡¯s all¡±.


    Sprawled on the bed due to the push from before, Emily nodded at Apotato. The delicious piece of root rushed closer to her and observed every inch of her existence.


    ¡°Yeah. You are not Maria. Who are you?¡±


    Emily shook her head.


    ¡°I am Emily. There¡¯s no Mari¡­oh. Don¡¯t you mean my grandmother? Her name was Maria.¡±


    Apotato looked back at her, eyes squinting hard. Suddenly, something clicked inside that beautiful starchy head, and it opened its eyes wide.


    ¡°Sweet Satan¡­ Has that much time passed? Maria has a granddaughter now¡­?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ Maria had a granddaughter. My grandma passed away two weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°...what? Bullshit. If she had died, her soul would pop smack dab in my circle of Hell. That was what we had agreed.¡± Apotato thought it would be a good idea to sit on Emily¡¯s bed, by her side, as it spoke. ¡°When she died, her soul was to drop so deeply and quickly it would make waves in the Earth¡¯s lava core¡±.


    It chuckled. Emily moved away from Apotato, toward the headboard of the bed.


    ¡°I mean it¡­ my grandma Maria is dead. That¡¯s how I got the journal. I would have never found it otherwise, as it was so well hidden.¡±


    The demon¡¯s eyes blinked twice. Reality was starting to sink in.


    ¡°But¡­ Does that mean she went to Paradise? How come¡­? Her soul was as rotten as a vulture¡¯s carcass¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Emily sat upright at once, ¡°Watch what you say about memaw.¡±


    ¡°Me¡­memaw?¡±


    Apotato cackled madly.


    ¡°Is that what you call that wench? Honey, if you knew what I know, you¡¯d be calling her a perverted monster.¡±


    There was so much amusement to be found in Apotato¡¯s face. A debaucherous smirk crossed its tuber lips, as it gazed at Emily.


    ¡°What? That¡¯s the truth, like it or not. Maria used to have a hankering for the taters and went hardcore on what that Mrs. Smith cooked. Hell, she would be eating from the Smith¡¯s plates all day, happier than fresh French fries.¡±


    Emily¡¯s heart was beating faster, now not out of fear anymore. It was wrath, welling up inside her with each of Apotato¡¯s insults to her memaw¡¯s memory. Yet, the beast went on.


    ¡°To think that her asshole of a father tried to summon ME to make her stop being a potato eater. I guess he wasn¡¯t aware that I would show up, but that doesn¡¯t make it any less ridiculous. When your ¡°memaw¡± wasn¡¯t being fed by that married bitch, she would get home and meet me in her bedroom. The next morning, the poor thing could barely walk, because she was all full of gas from all the mashed taters.¡±


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    It chuckled again. Emily tightened her fists in secret.


    ¡°She would eat my cooking like her life depended on it! And my, my, how she lov¨C¡±


    The maniac insultfest was interrupted by Emily¡¯s fist knocking Apotato¡¯s jaw. It coughed and choked, and some thick yellow liquid spilled from its mouth onto the sheets.


    That was it. Emily was going to die. She had acted out of impulse, and now she would be exterminated for her insolence.


    Except she wasn¡¯t. Apotato checked to see if its jaw was still in one piece and stared back at Emily.


    ¡°Well¡­ I guess I deserved that,¡± it said, lowering its potato head. ¡°I got carried away. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    To Emily, that was more shocking than having a demon in her bedroom: she had a demon asking for her forgiveness. She lowered her head a bit too, ashamed of punching the hellish yam. Apotato was still checking if all its teeth were in place, and it wiped the yellow liquid off using unforeseen appendages.


    ¡°I am sorry too. It''s just¡­ I can¡¯t bear to hear anyone say such things about my grandma.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. My bad. I guess it¡¯s been a long time since I last talked to someone from the ¡®surface¡¯. I lost my touch.¡±


    Emily raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°How long, exactly?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Mm. It was around the nineties. Your grandmother made me come around often, so I did it to please her, as she wanted to have me as a¡­ vegetable version of a friend.Like the Teletteebbes, if I recall it correctly.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you mean Teletubbies?¡±


    ¡°Ah! That¡¯s it! Yeah, we partied like there was no tomorrow when I was around. Sorry. Like I said, it¡¯s been a long time. Back then, Maria had this kid, who must be your father, I assume. James, right?¡±


    ¡°...Yes, that¡¯s my dad. Don¡¯t you dare say bad stuff about him too.¡±


    ¡°Relax. He was just a kid. And Maria treated him nicely. He never suspected his mother was a¡­ well, a potato eater.¡±


    That was almost too much information coming at Emily at once. Not only was she learning about her grandmother¡¯s history, but it was all coming straight from the mouth of a wicked demon that she had summoned somehow.


    Amid her inner reflection, Emily hadn¡¯t noticed that the talkative and extroverted legume had gone silent for a bit too long. On its pale peel, there was a drop of something that came from its eye - it looked like a tear, but it was as yellow as the stuff Apotato had coughed up earlier.


    The demon sighed.


    ¡°Oh, well. I wonder why she didn¡¯t show up there in Hell. We were supposed to reign my circle together. Now what will I do?¡±


    For some odd reason, Emily felt Apotato deserved compassion. That feeling was creeping up on her heart, making it heavy. At the same time, another sensation showed up, and Emily felt it as she moved on the bed to get a bit closer to Apotato. The rumbling of her stomach made itself present. She was craving some chips, for whatever reason. The situation was not appropriate for any kind of hunger, but still, there it was.


    ¡°Apotato, is it?¡± Emily started, ¡°Look, I think I brought you here by accident. I didn¡¯t mean to. I just read those words out loud and then you showed up.¡±


    Apotato looked back at her, another yellow tear rolling from its eye.


    ¡°Yeah. I know you don¡¯t want me here. I shouldn¡¯t have come, but I had no choice. Whenever a mortal says those words, I am brought right by their side.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That sucks. But wait, what¡¯s the reason for people to call you? What did my memaw want with you?¡±


    Apotato slowly shook itself.


    ¡°Quit being ugly, Emily girl. You oughta be smarter, coming from Maria¡¯s line.¡±


    It took Emily some time to understand she was being chastised for her supposed stupidity. Apotato then stated:


    ¡°The first time Maria called me was an accident. Well, the woman to whom I was bound passed me to your grandmamew.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s memaw.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. The woman was a trickster who had tried to make me a roasted potato. Then she got bored of old me and tossed me to Maria. That bastard, her father, thought it might cure her potato obsession. Little did he know it was going to make it even stronger.¡±


    It giggled; devilishly, of course.


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°After our first time together, she was addicted to me and called me every single day to feed her tummy. And I loved it, as it was just the thing I needed to have all my power back; that savage magician had extracted it from me.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ you needed to feed her for that?¡±


    ¡°Hello! I¡¯m a potato!¡± Apotato revealed. ¡°I was made to be eaten.¡±


    Now it was Emily¡¯s turn to let a hearty chuckle out. Apotato stared at her, eyes squinted and teeth showing.


    ¡°What is so funny?¡± it asked through its potato teeth.


    ¡°You are so lost, demon. As far as I know, potatoes can¡¯t cook, can they? So, there is nothing for you here, and all the story about you and my grandma was nothing but a hill of beans.¡±


    Apotato tilted itself to the right and proceeded to shake itself once again, in pure disdain.


    ¡°Girl, you are outdated. Where did you read that? Was it in that trash, Child¡¯s risible mess of paper, Mastering the Art of French Cooking?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Ugh. That smart-ass chef, Julia Child ¨C she thought she knew all there was to know about potatoes. She forgot to add her heart to the ingredients, though.¡±


    ¡°What does that even mean?¡±


    ¡°Nevermind. All you need to know is what you know about me is wrong. Well, not every single detail, but still. Enough of this drivel. Let me cook up an introduction.¡±


    After its last word, Apotato moved its occult appendages in a way Emily couldn¡¯t perceive. They became a blur only. Then, Emily felt something strange. It was as if she badly needed to eat potatoes, out of nowhere.


    ¡°Try ignoring it. It¡¯s common hunger, mind you.¡± Apotato stated.


    Something¡­ was wriggling, inside Emily¡¯s stomach.


    ¡°What¡­ What the fuck is this?!¡± she cried.


    Apotato snapped its inexistent fingers, and the unwanted sensation stopped.


    ¡°That is something I am sure you didn¡¯t know about us potatoes. It is just a minor invoking spell. Do not fret, because I have already dispelled it. Relax.¡±


    ¡°What did you¨C¡±


    ¡°I summoned a tablespoon of mashed potato up your stomach!¡±


    Emily felt her stomach turning. Apotato saw the look of complete panic and disgust that swept up her face and laughed.


    ¡°I kid, I kid. Relax. It was just a small and harmless input spell to force some jinx into you. Or was it?¡±


    And she cackled again. Emily¡¯s eyes were now welling up, as she was back into the vibes of being terrified by the supernatural presence sitting by her side.


    ¡°Please¡­ just go away¡­ You freak!¡±


    Much to Emily¡¯s surprise, that was exactly what Apotato would do, as it simply vanished without a trace. It was as if it had blinked out of existence. That was enough for Emily to think she had probably fallen asleep and was just having a most unpleasant nightmare. But it felt so real to her¡­


    Apotato¡¯s voice rang inside the young scientist¡¯s mind, reminding her that it was by no means an illusion or nightmarish fever.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what: you have a full day before I come back for you. You called me, I will be bound to you until your belly is full of tater. Juuuust like your mamew used to be when we played together. I never fed for good, though ¨C she always had a few days to recover in between our encounters, so I could keep giving her mashed potatoes ooover and over. Oh, your mamew and I had the best of times, and the worst of times! Oh, blissful nostalgia!¡±


    Emily was unsure if she had any way of talking back telepathically, or whatever that mumbo-jumbo was. Before she could attempt some deep-thinking communication, though, Apotato¡¯s voice filled her mind up again.


    ¡°We will have a fantastic time, Emily lady. What I set inside your stomach will slowly drive you towards a healthy obsession for my starch throughout the day. By the evening, you¡¯ll be desperate to meet me again. And I will be here, yes, feed you, spoon after spoon. And you¡­ you are going to love it.¡±


    After that, Emily¡¯s body felt heavy and soft like molasses. Her lights went out ¨C both those in the bedroom and in her conscience, and she blacked out on the bed.