I suppose I have a lot of people to thank for this.
You know who you are.
Obviously I don't own Twilight.
[Partially betaed by Ever heard of a Dictionary, fully by Bitter Sea Light]
The house at the end of the street had lain abandoned for a while before the Swan family moved in. It was an old house, two floored, with a long, wide balcony running its length. In its day, it had been beautiful, but now, without proper care, it had fallen into despair. The shutters were broken, and the glass was grimy and cracked. It was almost derelict when Charlie Swan, a caring but simple-minded millionaire, had bought it.
"It's good investment," he protested to his wife, later that night. "It's a beauty. And these old things go for a lot of money."
Not that the Swan family needed money. Indeed, if they didn't accumulate another dollar, Charlie's grandchildren would still live comfortably on the profits. However, though he didn't know it at the time, he would never have grandchildren.
The next morning, Charlie, his wife, and their seven-year-old daughter visited the house. It was in a state of deterioration, and Renée Swan looked at it disdainfully. There were contractors outside, as Charlie wanted to begin on the house as soon as possible. Or, rather, Charlie wanted the company he hired to start on it as soon as possible.
A small, wiry man came up to the millionaire as he stepped from the BMW.
"Have you been inside yet, sir?" he asked, voice curiously guarded.
"No, why?"
The man muttered something only little Bella heard.
"Feels... strange in there," he said.
"Hmm?" Charlie asked. "Speak up, man."
The man flashed Charlie a fake smile.
"Nothing, sir. We'll set to work within a couple of days. Feel free to look around, the worksite is secure." The man wondered off.
Bella looked at her father, who was smiling at the back of the man as he walked off.
"Come on," he said to his daughter. "Let's go see the inside."
Charlie and his family entered the house. It was even worse inside. The house was mildewed and rotting, beams of oak hanging precariously from the ceiling.
The house had a malevolent presence. It sunk into every pore of the Swan family, but, pleased with his purchase, Charlie didn't notice. Renée didn't care. She didn't care about anything. But Bella felt it, and she shivered involuntarily.
The house was sparsely furnished, with only a few couches in the entry hall, a couple of beds, and, in one of the bedrooms, a portrait.
The portrait was stunning, seemingly capturing a living soul. It depicted a girl with black hair, who smiled impishly out from the wall. In the background of the portrait, the room in which it hung could be seen.
Bella shivered once again as she looked at the portrait. It seemed to radiate cold, and the girl in it was almost leering. Suddenly unable to look at it any longer, Bella turned away. Together, the family walked out of the room, Charlie chattering away with Bella, who wasn't really listening, and Renée talking on a mobile phone. They left the house soon after that.
The portrait watched as the small girl with long, brown hair left the room. Soon, it thought. Soon.
It was, in fact, eight months before the family moved in. To their credit, the contractors worked very hard, and the house was soon restored to its original valour. The wood shined. The old carpet was ripped up, a new one fitted into the floor.
And, so, the week before Bella's eighth birthday, the Swans moved into their new house.
September 18th, 1907
The girl ran down the hallway, as though something was chasing her. Which there was.
"Come back!" yelled the black-haired girl, her not-quite-there feet making no sound as she ran after the other girl.
"Go away, Alice!" screamed the other girl, jumping down the steps two at the time.
"I only want to play!" Alice's voice was lonely. Why was her friend leaving her? Rosalie was Alice's friend. No one else's.
Rosalie faltered at the bottom of the stairs. Alice noticed this and lunged down through the banister, trying to catch Rosalie. Rosalie screeched, and, just as the ghostly hands clutched at her, she ran out the front door into the sunshine. Alice wailed in despair. She couldn't go outside. The sunlight would finally banish her. She sighed reluctantly, and floated back to the room, where she flew into the portrait. And, there she stayed, until more than one hundred years later, another girl moved into the room.
October 24th, 2008
Bella was playing with her dolls when she first heard the voice. Her room was set up quite nicely. The walls were a light shade of pastel pink; there was a rainbow stretching from the far wall to the ceiling. All quite cheerful, and the room would have been a little girl's paradise if it wasn't for the creepy portrait on the wall.
The contracts had tried to move the portrait, but it was stuck fast, hanging maliciously on the wall. Short of ripping out the wall—and Charlie Swan was quite adverse to tearing out priceless old walls—there was nothing to be done. So, the portrait had stayed, and at night, little Bella imagined the portrait watching her when she slept.
Which is exactly what it did, though there was no way for Bella to know that.
She'd put her dolls on the low table—pink, of course—that her parents had bought her, scattered among crayons, tea-cups, and a plastic pink tea-pot. She then put her three best teddy friends on the chairs that surrounded the table, before pouring cups of 'tea'—really, water—for her friends.
It was at that point, the voice spoke.
"Can I play?" it asked.
Bella looked around in confusion.
"Over here," said the voice, coming from the corner.
Bella turned, and was greeted by the sight of another little girl, with black hair tied with ribbons, a small blue dress, and a mischievous smile.
"Who're you?" asked Bella, frowning and wondering how another girl had gotten into her room without her notice.
"I'm Alice," the girl said, moving one of the teddies and sitting down at the table. She was pale to the extreme, and seemed a little blurry, like a person viewed through a misty window.
"Oh," Bella said, pouring 'tea' for Alice. "Will you be my friend?"
Alice nodded. "I'd love to be your friend," she said, and Bella beamed.
"It's nice to have a friend," Bella said, before frowning. "Daddy moves around a lot. I wish he'd stay in one place for a long time."
Alice nodded, sipping the water, her mind reeling internally. She had another friend…
October 27th, 2008
Isabella was once again playing with her friend, playing hide and seek throughout the old house. There were plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in, and Bella was having a great time, hiding from Alice, even if Alice did find her immediately, and it seemed that Alice was moving around, because it took forever for Bella to find Alice in places she'd already looked.
The two girls were playing in a dusty room with nothing but a single new sofa, giggling and laughing, when Renee walked in, snapping a Motorola shut with red-nailed fingers.
"What are you doing, darling?" she asked Bella.
Bella blinked, surprised; couldn't she see Alice?
"I'm playing with Alice…" her voice trailed off.
"Is Alice your imaginary friend?" Renee asked.
Bella frowned. Alice was standing right next to her, smiling that same mischievous smile.
She was, however, spared from answering by the electronic trilling of Renee's phone. Renee gave her daughter a smile, before walking off, flipping the phone open and lifting it to her ear.
Bella sighed. "I don't want to go to school tomorrow, Alice."
Alice's smile froze on her face. School? What was school?
"You'll be okay," she said, thinking fast.
"Are you sure?" Bella asked her friend.
"Absolutely. I'm your best friend, and I'm very smart!" Alice said, smiling warmly once again.
Bella was comforted; why would her friend lie?
October 31st, 2008—Halloween, Isabella Swan's Eighth Birthday
Alice frowned, her hands folded over her waist, and her feet planted defiantly on the ground. No one knew she was there, not even Bella, who sat at the head of a table of six boys and girls, all giggling and screaming and horsing around like the eight-year-olds they were. She watched a little blond boy run past, colliding with another boy who was very tall for his age.
"Ow," the blond one said. "You got a hard tummy." His accent was heavily Southern.
"I'm sorry," said the other one.
Bella, meanwhile, was talking quietly with a boy with bronze hair and green eyes. And the more Alice watched, the angrier she got.
How dare she? Alice thought. Bella is my friend!
Alice huffed indignantly as the boy kissed Bella on the cheek as they both blushed and giggled.
Then Charlie came into the room, followed by Renee, who had actually switched her phone off for once, carrying an enormous cake in the shape of a fabulous mansion.
The children cheered, delighted, as it was sat in front of Bella, who was smiling in happiness. Alice glowered as the other children and Bella's parents sung happy birthday.
"…Happy birthday to you!" the children chorused, out of tune and off-key as Bella laughed.
"Happy birthday sweetheart," Charlie said, kissing his daughter on the cheek before disappearing out the door for a couple of seconds. He came back with a number of boxes in his hands.
The children looked on in interest as Bella opened her presents; a new doll, a toy mobile phone, an intricately carved doll's house that must have cost a fortune, and all manner of things that you'd expect an eight-year-old girl to want. Finally, there was one present left.
It was quite large, though not as large as the doll's house, a pink box with a white ribbon on the top.
"Go ahead and open it, sweetie," Renee smiled as she put the box on the floor.
Bella reached down off her chair and undid the ribbon. She took the lid off, and the four sides flopped down, revealing what was inside.
The room was filled with enthusiastic cries of "Puppy!" as Bella lifted her present out and cradled it to her chest.
It was a beautiful Labrador puppy with golden coloured fur and a black nose. It sniffed Bella curiously as she set it down on the floor, its tail whipping around. It then evidently decided that Bella was a friend, because it barked and licked her hand. Bella squealed in delight.
It was only later, when the other children left, that Alice realised something was wrong. Because, for the entire night, Bella sat playing with her new puppy, and did not talk to Alice once.
November 14th, 2008
"What are we doing, Alice?" eight-year-old Bella asked. Bella was lying on her bed while her dog—which she had named Jacob—was running around in laps on the floor beneath her.
"We're going to play a game," she Alice, smiling at her friend. In her ghostly hand she held a knife she had stolen from the kitchen, and she held it up.
"What sort of game?" Bella asked.
"A fun one," Alice said. "But we need your puppy for it."
"Jacob?" Bella said, picking the Labrador up in her arms and cuddling it as it barked excitedly at her.
"Yes," Alice said. "Do you want to know how to play?"
Bella nodded. Alice held out her hand with the knife, and gestured for Bella to take it. Bella took the knife in her hand, and frowned down at it. It was very, very cold, and the blade gleamed wickedly.
"Mummy told me I shouldn't play with knives, or I hurt myself," Bella said, doubtfully.
"We'll be okay," Alice said. "Now, what you have to do is this. You're puppy is 'it'. What you have to do is chase it. When you catch it, you have to hit it with the knife. Then it's your go, and then mine." Alice smiled.
"Won't that hurt Jacob?" Bella asked, worry evident in her tone.
"He'll be fine. Besides, I want you to play with me." Alice pouted.
"Well, okay…"
Bella set her puppy down on the floor, and it immediately ran off, dodging and weaving around the room, trying to get Bella to chase it. It was a Labrador, after all.
Bella ran after it, down the hall, the knife held awkwardly in her too-small hand. The little puppy barked excitedly as it realised its owner was chasing it.
Charlie Swan wasn't home, and Renee was relaxing in the hot-tub outside, her earphones in. There was no one around to hear a little girl, a puppy and a pale apparition as they ran through the silent house.
Finally, Bella cornered her puppy in the room where Renee had found her playing with Alice a couple of weeks before.
Jacob growled playfully in the corner, and Bella looked doubtfully at the knife again, sure that it would hurt her new puppy.
"It will be okay," Alice said, smiling at Bella. "Why don't you trust me? I'm your friend."
"No, Alice, I don't want to," Bella said, shaking her head.
"Bella, don't you want to play?" Alice asked.
"No! I don't want to hurt Jacob," she said.
"Bella," Alice's tone carried a warning. "I want you to play with me, and you must follow the rules."
"No!"
"Bella!" And then Alice concentrated. The room went cold, so cold that frost crept up the window in tendrils. Bella froze, the knife still in her hand, and her pupils dilated as she swayed slightly.
Then Alice snapped her fingers and panted. It had taken a lot out of her.
"Are you going to play properly now, Bella?" Alice asked.
"Yes, Alice," Bella said, and advanced on the dog with the knife. Jacob seemed to sense that something was wrong, and whined.
Bella struck, and the whine was cut off.
x x x x
It was agreed that the dog ran off. Bella had opened the door and the excitable puppy had shot from beside her, disappearing into the woods.
Bella was distraught, and her parents had nothing but sympathy for her. No one, not even Bella, remembered or knew what had happened to the poor Labrador. Meanwhile, after absorbing the dog's essence, Alice became stronger, strong enough to implement her master plan.
November 16th, 2008
Isabella Swan was sleeping quietly, her room dark. It was well after midnight, a time that could truly be described as 'the witching hour'.
The portrait over her head moved. She was finally strong enough, and it was time. After three hundred years, Alice wasn't going to be alone anymore.
She slid out of the painting, dropping to the bed beside Bella. She then put her ghostly arm on the sleeping girl's wrist.
Bella awoke, and blinked; disorientated for a moment as the world swam into view. The room was lit eerily by moonlight, which was streaming in through the open window. The temperature was just below freezing, and ice coated the walls.
"Alice, what are you doing?" Bella asked.
"I've found a way for us to be together, forever!" Alice exclaimed in a bubbly, happy voice. She gripped Bella's hand and immediately a cold, dead feeling raced up her arm as Bella tried to twist away.
"Alice, it feels yucky," Bella said, writing in her friend's grip. "Please, let me go!"
"No," Alice said, firmly as the cold feeling reached Bella's shoulder, bringing tears to her eyes.
"Please, Alice, please…" Bella writhed and jerked as the dead feeling travelled to her extremities. Alice just held onto her wrist though, smiling in happiness the entire time.
Finally, the pain came to the climax. The cold feeling raced to Bella's heart as she tried to kick out at Alice, and Bella opened her mouth to scream.
She never got to utter a sound though as the feeling quenched the panicked beat of her heart, sending her over the edge into emptiness, a soundless scream still on her lips.
x x x x
They never found her, of course. Renee had come to wake her daughter in the morning and found no trace of her. The Swans, and eventually, the police, were baffled as to how a eight-year-old girl managed to disappear from her bed during the middle of the night, leaving no trace of herself behind. The case was indefinitely marked 'unsolved', and the file shoved into a cabinet at the local police station by someone who didn't care more than his job deemed necessary.
The Swans, for their part, never went back into their daughter's room, staying for another three months before moving, leaving everything behind, never again going into it.
All furniture was left to collect dust and perish until, another one hundred years later, a new family came calling.
September 8th, 2108
Tanya Denali clutched at her stuffed rabbit as she surveyed the portrait.
The little girl was just six years old, and was being shown around along with her father, a rich film star, who had decided to buy the three-hundred-year-old house.
She was in a room filled with moth-eaten furniture and painted pink walls that were peeling at the tops. The portrait sat above a dusty old bed, and showed a room much like that one, with cream-coloured walls and a pale carpet. In the photograph was a small girl, smiling, her hair black and her eyes mischievous. In the background, though, was something less happy. Another girl sat on the edge of the bed. She looked around the same age as the one in the foreground. However, her hair was brown, long and soft, and her eyes were filled with the deepest sorrow Tanya Denali had ever seen in her short life.
She shivered, and ran out of the room, looking for her father.
Alice regarded the new girl with curious eyes, and then shrugged to herself.
She wouldn't appear to this girl.
After all, she already had her friend.