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The Dark Matriarch of Springfield	By : MegFallow Category: +S through Z > Simpsons Views: 6981 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 4
Pairings: JessicaxBart/ OCxOC/ LegsxOC
Warnings: Graphic violence, gore, and language.
At the Simpson house while Lisa was in her room doing her homework, she was having trouble concentrating because of the constant banging that was going on in the room next to her, she growled at how Bart would always seem to know when she did her homework so he could do something loud and obnoxious to distract her. The banging was ongoing, shaking the wall that divided their bedroom, Lisa gasped as her pictures began falling off the nails.
Lisa: Bart, stop it or else I am telling mom!
After a few minutes the banging stopped, she sighed and went back to completing her history homework, but then it started back up again, even more loudly than before. Angrily Lisa threw the textbook on the bed and left her room. The hallway was empty saved for Snowball 2 sleeping on the carpet. Cats can pretty much sleep through anything, Lisa remarked as she opened Bart's door and stepped inside.
Lisa: Bart! I have an important test I have to study for (walks into his room)-what the hell?
Bart was walking into the wall next to his window, over and over again, with each loud bang was a whiny "Ow" Lisa thought of this as odd, even for her family, she walked quietly over to Bart making sure not to make a sound (which come to think of it would be drowned out by the loud bang) and took a closer look. He was dressed still in his school clothes with his shoes on, but his eyes were shut. Come to think of it, he did say something earlier about taking a nap before dinner.
Lisa: He's sleepwalking, well...barely...but I don't remember him doing that before.
BANG
Bart: Owwwww"
BANG
Owwwwwww!"
BANG
Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!"
Lisa: -He is going to get a killer headache afterwards-
Downtown Springfield, Evening
The streets were empty as Gideon could see. Hardly even a vagabond passed out on the sidewalk to step over he noticed. So much had changed before his eyes and so much he had seen altered before him as he laid low in Springfield after being given the power of eternal life by the devil in exchange for his soul the night he died in his own house. So that he could be there for when Elizabeth would be bought back to life. And she would, he vowed, as soon as the child was found.
After the encounter with the four men, Gideon walked through streets silently; he reveled in the ability he could muster to walk amongst the mortal living. It had been more than a century since he and his wife died, she was trapped in purgatory awaiting the child she prophesized would resurrect her, but Gideon found himself in Hell with Elizabeth nowhere to be found.
Gideon: "We were lost my love you in purgatory and me in hell but not no more"
He walked down the main street area, until he was where the Town Hall was located and in the center was the statue of Jebediah Springfield, he walked up to the statue and knelt down in front of it as if he was bowing to the metal replica of the town founder.
Gideon: (rubbing the ground with his hand) It should be here, right here, hopefully it was not already dug up, the child will need to find the spell book soon, and when he finds out, I will be waiting here to take him to the Manor….or her I guess…
Gideon waved his hands over the blades of grass under his feet, years of waiting, of selling his soul to the devil for eternal life so that he could finally be there for the day in which she would arise would all be soon. He even smiled to himself knowing who that child was, like that, bitch descendent of his would even have known that. The moment that child was born, he knew immediately that it would be the one to use the spell book to bring to life his wife.
Gideon: Soon spell book soon (a patch of earth began to move suddenly, beating within the ground, quivering like a worm underneath the dirt wanting to be dug up) we must call Bart Simpson back to this place, for years I have stayed hidden in this godforsaken hellhole, just so that the boy could be born, out of the family of our 'direct' descendent, no one but you and me were ever aware of what he would do someday, and now, when the time is right, you will call him here...little book...call him here and make him find you...
†
Moe's Tavern-Evening
Meanwhile, it is 6:59 pm, Homer is with the other men in the bar talking about the stranger that they saw on the way to the tavern.
Homer: -yeah, he was weird, but looked good in that trench coat," he replied, "of course, with tall guys, they can never look bad in one I always say, anyway, he just walked off, I have this strange feeling that I met him before..."
Lenny: You know my brother saw him one time, said he could be Robert Kennedy's twin...you know, more similar-looking twin that would get just as much girls as the other guys?"
Homer: (shook his head) No, that can't be it, I mean, I think I saw him someplace else, oh-Marge was there, at the hospital, yes that's it, I saw him at the hospital when Bart was born...man, that guy must be doing something good he doesn’t look a day over thirty.
As Homer and his friends were talking, the phone rang and Moe went over to answer it.
Moe: (putting the reciever to his ear) Moe's Tavern, hang on I will check...Hey, is there a Mick Big ball...have everyone...I'm looking for Big balls!"
Suddenly the men started laughing...
Barney: Hey Moe, Why don't you try Chippendales!
They laughed even louder.
Simpson's House, Living Room.
Bart and Lisa laughed loudly as Maggie sat on the couch watching with the pacifier in her mouth, she never understood why they kept laughing into that phone, and maybe she never will. Marge came over and suddenly grabbed the phone putting her hand over the receiver.
Marge: What have I told you children about making prank phone calls to people, now wash up and get ready for supper.
Bart and Lisa groaned as they got up.
As Marge hung up the phone, she noticed a rather large red bump on Bart's forehead when she watched them run up the stairs to wash their hands.
†
DownTown Springfield
Gideon finished his musing at the statue and continued his walk through Downtown Springfield with his hands in his pockets, passing a dark alleyway he suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked left and right before disappearing into the alley. The end of the alley was filled with rows of trashcans and shards of glass and broken crates, sleeping in the corner was a dirty old vagrant, which he had hired to guard his weapon for him from anyone that would steal it or uncover it. This particular weapon didn't go over so well being taken in the underworld and he figured that anyone in the earthly realm would appreciate him being in possession of it, particularly someone of the police department.
Gideon: Lets see, I knew I hid it around here somewhere. I hope Smelly Pete didn't sell it for a bag of marijuana or something...
Gideon eyed the sleeping vagrant as he walked towards a few large wooden planks propped up against the side of the wall and moved them aside taking out a long scythe with a metal pole. He wrapped his fingers around it feeling its dark power surge throughout his entire being. Gideon than turned around and nudged the sleeping vagrant with his foot. As the vagrant stirred from his slumber, the order of rotten cheese and stale urine lingered around Gideon's nostrils making him nauseated.
Vagrant: (mumbling in his doze) Zzzz, Mom...George Clooney, (awakens with a start), What!? What-Well, look who is here, yes I see you still have it, it didn't go no where’s, Old Smelly Pete made sure nobody steal it, you-you be honest with me, you really take it from the Grim Reaper did yes-ah, you don't have to tell me, that must of been quite a trick to have mister old deathly butt himself part with that thing, (Old Smelly Pete wheezed before continuing) now where is my pay boy, you guts the sandwich I've been hankering for?"
Gideon reached into his coat pocket and took out a turkey sandwich wrapped in waxed paper and held it out before Smelly Pete, being a wolf, he sniffed the sandwich and snatched it out of the young man's hands and was shoving the contents into his mouth, paper and all.
Gideon: (looking digusted) Don't you want to remove the paper first?
Smelly Pete: (licking the paper) Are you kidding, the paper is the best part!
Gideon tucked the scythe under his arm and proceeded to make his way out of the alleyway, but before he could make it another step he felt a slight tug at the base of his trench coat and saw Old Smelly Pete on his hands and knees with the sandwich in his mouth, gripping onto the coat with one of his grimy hands. Looking up into the ancient witch's eyes with a solace gaze of pleading and pathetic composure that would have been sympathetic, if not for the fact that fleas were doing swan dives over his ragged hair.
Gideon: What?
The old vagrant took the sandwich out of his mouth and got to his feet, letting out of Gideon's coat and placing it over his upper arm squeezing it. In the other hand, he held the sandwich in such a grip that mayonnaise was oozing out of the bread, meat, and lattice.
Smelly Pete: Something, is going to happen isn’t it? You are, going to destroy-d-d-throw the whole world into apocalypse,(clasps his hands together like in a prayer) please, then take me with you! I don't want to die alone, no one will die with me, I am old and ugly, and filthy, take me with you! I can be useful...I can..."
He trails off and reaches a hand out for the male witch's face.
Gideon stepped back and brushed the vagrant's hand away from his arm with the flat side of his blade.
Gideon: (admiring the blade of the scythe) There will be no world wide destruction as you put it, just that of Springfield's destruction, and if you have a problem with dying, you should not of met me.
The scythe was raised and glided with speed and grace into the side of the vagrant's head burying deeply until thick globs of blood gushed out of the diseased man’s head and flowed messily down over his craggy clothes and over Gideon's hands. When Gideon moved the scythe around he caused a wave of blood squirts to splash into his face and chest the more he pried the blade out of Old Smelly Pete's damaged face. No sound was made, not even a dying scream as the bum fell to the ground with only half a head smashing against the glass strewed cement as the other half slide off of the scythe's blade leaving chunks of flesh and brains behind in its wake. He sighed and wiped the blade with his coat before resting it over his shoulder and walking off whistling non-chillingly.
†
North Fieldfare Apartment, East of Springfield-Midnight
Catherine Davison's first day of work was dull, only two people stopped in today, one for directions to a deli and the other thinking it was the Video store, most of the time when she wasn't busy stamping "overdue" on her hand over and over she read her book that day. The rest of the time she sat going through the various records of the Crosse family history and there whereabouts around Springfield. On paper was a timeline with various points in the years where something remarkable happened, a death, a scandal, a birth, as she read she couldn't believe how much pain and suffering this family bought on to itself and to the other families. Most happened to the women of the family.
The Library closed up and sitting on her couch drinking some hot coca, Catherine changed into a pair of slacks and a t-shirt and studied over the family timeline once again making sure there was nothing looked over.
Catherine: Most of these occurrences happened by mental insanity, particularly depression, suicide, and hallucinations...that could explain great aunt Millie...lets see what can be said about the prophecy.
Catherine placed the papers on her coffee table and scanned for instances were Elizabeth's Prophecy was mentioned, but so far, after 1655, when David took over as man of the house along with his two remaining sisters, no mention of the prophecy was given, not even a clue. The spell book did become something of a family heirloom however, switching hands and presented as a wedding gift or given to daughters upon their mother's deathbed.
Catherine: (reading out loud to herself) But with the control of the spell book, those that possessed it seem to have undergone a change that few could predict," She , "few ever received the Spellbook without incident-often among the other female members of the family there would be quarrel, jealousy, or feud. In short, there were reports that some would actually plot someone's death or kill the woman that had control over the spell book- (She took a sip of her drink adding,) -obviously no one in that family had control of the spell book it had control over them.
Catherine placed her drink down on the cozen and dug through the rest of the stack of papers in her briefcase, she pulled out a essay that was two pages long written by Millicent Davison in her youth when show as studying the family curse and the prophecy. It was getting late, and there was no way she could read through all of that in a single night. She took out her green highlighter and looked for a certain paragraph or two that she could concentrate on for the mean time. On the second page in the third paragraph was a note about "The Child".
1. Elizabeth would be using the spell book to lure the child, she would not know what would become of her own spell book, but if the spell book was not buried with her, it would of been lost in time through her family and then beyond. If buried, the area would be a place, where the child might have been before, as to make the amount of time reaching the place shortened and less confusing. Therefore, the locale would be a familiar area.
2. A mental connection that would affect the child's psyche or subconscious. Appearing in a dream, or a vision that would no reappear. Depending on the child's intelligence and sensitivity to stimulation, the two signals of both the spell book and the child would cross paths or failing that, latch hold of one with more divine attributes. I doubt the child that Elizabeth would want to beckon would be a dolt. This second one is however risky to raise alarm to others and may rarely be used.
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Simpsons's House. Bedrooms
She felt it to be a dream. It had to be a dream. Lisa, for the first time in her life, couldn't understand what was happening. Assessing her surroundings, she could make out the living room. Her typical family living room. But the pictures were hanging upside down and there were inky splotches dripping from the walls. Oozing out like blood from a open wound and down the fine texture of the wallpaper. In front of her the television was on but she didn't remember turning it on. There was staticy snow on the screen. She wanted to change the channel but her hands and fingers felt like weighted bricks.
Lisa: What is going on? A dream...?
The Television started to speak robotically in incorherently speech patterns that she could almost make out.
Voice: The headless Statue...find it near the headless statue...
Lisa: Who is it? Whose there?
The voice crackled overlapping in a thousand different sounds that were being drowned out by the constant rhythm of wood knocking.
Voice: (static-like) bbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt...the book...bzzzzzzzzzzzzbzt...find the book...bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzztz...find the...
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
The knock grew louder and more determined.
"I am going to see who that is," said Lisa, "maybe who ever is there can tell me what is going on with this dream."
She felt herself floating towards the door, her hands reaching out but grabbing nothing there, the door in her reach but her hands could not grab anything. In her split second, she willed herself to grab the door and open it. Standing there was a tall beautiful woman with dark spirally hair wearing a old 16th century black dress, plain with a bloodstained white collar wrapped around her shoulders. Her lips curled into a evil smirk as she stared down at Lisa with her icy cold blue eyes.
Dark-haired woman: Where are you suppose to be little girl...?
Lisa woke up from the banging sound that came from her brother's room, she couldn't take it anymore, if it wasn't stopped then she would never get any sleep. She threw back the covers and stepped out of the room. The door vibrated from the constant banging caused by Bart's slamming against the door, she took a deep breath and turned the knob to open the door. Bart's body was flown at her by his own endurance to leave his room in his walking sleep. Lisa took a step to the right and watched as Bart fell flat on his stomach with a soft thud. His eyes were closed, after a few seconds he got up and walked down the stairs, with no grip on the railing he missed his footing and stumbled down the stairs head over heels to the bottom.
Lisa: (sighing) Oh Bart what is going on with you?
She heard the door to her parent's room move.
Marge: (her voice coming from the hallway in thier bedroom) What is going on out there?
Lisa: Uh...uh...Nothing, I just wanted to get a glass of water and stumbled down the stairs, but I am fine now, just startled.
Homer: (shouting from thier bedroom) Well, be careful next time!
†
"-3. To prevent any notice, the beckoning would happen at night, the mind would refuse this power, but the body is weak, and is in manipulation of the body. The moment the child will be under control would be when his or her mind is not at will with the body, a subconscious presence allowing the mind to be of its own accord and not that of the physical being. Thus, the mind while in dream-like vacancy would not have no control as the body lies motionless...in lame man's terms...sleep walking would be noted in the child."
†
Lisa sneaked down the stairs keeping a close eye on her brother as he got up undazed from the fall, he headed in his slumbering state towards the door pressing the front of his body against the wood but still moving his feet. His sister reached the bottom of the stairs without a sound and caught up behind her sleepwalking brother, his entire weight shifted to the front as if hooked to a unseen string that was pulling him further on. Something that Lisa could not see, but yet feel like a gravitational pull, controlling the ability to walk upon the sleeping boy. From what she had read up on sleepwalking was that the sleepwalker's path was usually erratic with no straight purpose, a mundane heavy ritual that was unpredictable and yet at the same time so methodical in each step the person took. But in this situation, Bart actually seemed to be going somewhere or wanting to anyway, he was evident in his unconscious determination to push the door open without seeming to realize that it was unlocked in the first place.
Lisa made it her purgative to follow Bart and see where he would want to go outside?
Lisa: I feel like I am taking him out for a walk like a dog,
She pushed the button on the door handle that unlocked the door and opened it,” there he goes-"
Bart was out the door with a steadfast pace, she quickly grabbed her coat and Bart's as she ran out the door shutting it behind her. The cold night air was clean and brisk, a full moon cast its light over the night sky blocking out half of the stars that positioned themselves around it. Forgetting a flashlight, Lisa used the moonlight and the glowing streetlamps to keep a eye on Bart making his way down Evergreen Terrance and into Downtown Springfield. It was a dangerous trip however, you see, Bart didn't realize he was walking ON the street not beside it, so whenever a car came up, Lisa had to jump in and pull Bart out of the lane that the car was going down, having to hear swearing from the panicked driver afterwards.
And arriving upon Downtown Springfield as she was rescuing Bart yet again from another fast approaching vehicles. The car surved violently out of the way and hit a mailbox on the sidewalk the car collided against the curve and as she heard a loud crashes from behind her as a hubcap roll past her out of the corner of her eye.
TBC
Next up: Bart finds the spellbook, Catherine further investigates Elizabeth Crosse's Prophecy, and more information will be uncovered.
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The Dark Matriarch of Springfield