Section One-The Spirits
I wake with a start.
It is four 'o clock in the morning.
Far too early for anyone to even think about getting up and moving around.
I miserably get out of bed and decide to make some of my favourite pomegranate tea that my cousin brought me from her travels abroad. It usually soothes me enough to get me back into bed for a few hours, at least until sunrise. At the time I am taking the steaming kettle off the stove, I hear a sound near the door. Who would be knocking this early in the morning? I wonder.
Fear taking over me, I scrambled back into my bedroom and covered under the large wool comforter. After the loss of my husband, I had been running this house on my own for the past few years, everything was scaring me lately.
The noise eventually stopped, but my mix of paranoia and curiosity had not. I tried to tell myself that it was just the wind, and closed my eyes. The noise returned, this time along with a loud meowing noise. I figured it was a cat, but it could also be a killer mimicking a noise just to get you to open the door, then, they take you, molest you, and leave you on the streets to die; sometimes with child.
I decided that I would not take any chances, so I closed all my blinds, made sure all of my doors were locked, and went up into the room right next to the attic. This room was the one that everyone in my family called the 'room for depressing news' because of the dull, grey-aqua wallpaper with faded ducks on it. If I ever had the chance to have a child of my own, this would be the perfect room, that is, with some fixing-up. I was sure that the wallpaper could be restored to the original, jolly blue with vibrant yellow ducks waddling about the border, like when I was a child.
When you were a child…when you were a child…
My mind whispers this to me. When I was a child, I was always told that I was never going to get through life without having to experience rape or abuse. I was told that I was just to pretty, and with that I was forced to be locked up in this room, for days on end, either reading or working on my sewing. My father supplied the abuse for me, saying that I had to figure out rape for myself. He killed my mother, saying that she was a waste of time and energy, which made me mad enough to lose all trust in men.
This very room was also the one that I came to when I was feeling the sorrow of the death of my own husband. I did not hesitate to draw on the walls, break the glass, and scream, scream as loud as I wanted.
I saw the sun peeking its tired head over the horizon, I looked down out of the window to see that people were out on the street. I had not been out of my house for many days, so I decided to go down into town to visit my sister's home and dress shop.
I stepped down the stairs of the front of my home, just to realize that the noise had been a cat all along, there had nothing to be afraid of earlier this morning. I walked the two blocks it took to get to my sister's home and shop, looking at the merry nature despite the gray sky and cool air. It smelled like fall, the carriages with horses trotted down the roads, and people were happy all around me. This was surely the right day to finally step out of my home.
As I got to my sister's house and opened the door, I was quick to notice that the whole interior was all a-bustle with customers ordering new outfits for the upcoming holiday season.
"Veronica? Do you have a moment?" I asked, through the crowd
"Emilee? Is that you?" she asked, baffled.
"Yes, it is me." Was my reply.
I watched as she shooed the people away from her busy desk, yelling, 'we are closed now, come another day!' after she finished, she turned to face me, blonde hair glowing around her pale face.
"Why, Emilee, it has been such a long time!" she beamed.
"It has, hasn't it?" I answered back.
"Well, don't just stand there in the doorway, come in, come in!"
I watched as she waved her hand daintily, gesturing to the chair and table in front of her. The table was a beautiful shade of brown, and the chairs had the prettiest carvings of flowers that had faeries making merry love in between the vines and stems. The fabric on the chairs were a beautiful, rich shade of ivy green.
Sitting at one of the chairs and scooting it toward the table, I saw her bring out a platter of crumpets, accompanied by a full silver pot of what appeared to be pomegranate tea. She sat the platter in the center of the table and sat next to me; the vibrant yellow and red of her dress made me come to realize that I was-and had been-dressed very somberly for the past few years of my life. In fact, the color in her home made my appearance, which consisted of pale skin, dark hair, onyx eyes, and a darker-palette dress, look like a dark grey rain cloud that hovered over the sky on a gloomy day.
"How have you been, my dear sister?" her sunny voice asked me, full of cheer.
"Very nice, it is good to get out of the home once and a while, take a break from the books, and finally see something that is not black and white, but true color." I replied, trying to hide the fact that I had, in actuality, felt quite anxious.
"I absolutely adore the fact that you are now thinking brightly. I now see a side of you that I have not seen in a very long time."
"So, have you had anything new come up in your life?"
"Not so much new, but drifts of the old. I was indeed very shocked to find you at my doorstep today."
"I was shocked that my legs still had the will to leave my home!" I took another sip of my tea.
There was a knock at the window, what could it be? I had to figure out somehow, but I told myself that I would have the will to stay by and visit with my sister. Yet that sound was frightening me..
"I see that you have acknowledged the presence of my new friend." She said with a cheery tone in her voice.
"Your…your new friend?" I asked, cautious.
"Oh yes! Have I not told you about Benjamin?"
Benjamin? Who was Benjamin? Was he the ghost of one of the people whom had died in this house long ago? Was he a killer who sought shelter in the home of my sister? Was he lethal in any way?
I snapped out of what seemed like the millionth trance that day and silenced my restless mind. How dare I think those thoughts on such a sunny day? I figured out who Benjamin was as I saw a small white nose poking out of the side of the door. A small white kitten entered the room.
"Is he sanitary?" was the first thing I asked.
"Of course he is, Emilee!" she replied.
"May I hold him?"
"I would be insulted if you didn't! He is such a baby, always longing for attention."
I picked him up and felt the soft white fur in-between my fingers. He let out a little squeak that would soon become a meow, a growl, a hiss. His little claws dug into my hand, and I let out a small gasp of pain as I put him down onto the wood floor.
"Did he hurt you?" came Veronica's worried voice
"No, he only left a small scratch." Was my reply.
There was a knock on her door, perhaps a customer coming to order a dress. I looked at the clock; I had been over there for over two hours. No wonder people were waiting at her door! I decided that I should leave if I were to make it home by dusk.
I slowly walked out the door and bid my dear sister good-bye. She waved as I walked out of the door and let in a rush of about seven people.
As I walked down the street and up the stairs to my home, I looked out and silently said good-bye to the outdoors. The sky and its pretty blue color, the birds that tweedle-deed their morning hellos to everybody in the early hours, and the pretty trees, whom had turned a lovely shade of yellow, red, and orange.
I, unlocking my door, stepped inside, and looked at all the things that laid before me.
First of all, the kitchen was a mess. It had not been cleaned in days. The other rooms seemed okay, yes, they looked okay. But there was a small, small, stain on one of the table cloths. I had to clean that up, too. I, deciding that I was too rattled to clean, went into the bathroom and drew myself a nice, hot bath to soothe my mind.
After what had seemed, and turned out to be, an incredibly long time, I stepped out of the tub, dried myself, and looked at my large grandfather clock to find that the time was just after eleven p.m. I went to my room, turned on the light, and shed the skirt, bodice, petticoats, and corset that surrounded my being until I was only in my underclothes. I slept like that for what remained of the long, dark night.
As always, I awoke at four o' clock a.m. exactly. Not four o' one, not three fifty-nine, but four o' clock. I stepped into a dress, not exactly sure what one it was, and went to prepare breakfast. But I had forgotten one small process; I had forgotten to wash up first. I moved my body into the bathroom, quickly and quietly, so that the others would not see me moving about so early in the morning.
My hair suddenly does not look right, so I hack it all off, one piece by one piece, hacking it all off. I am also very hurt by my actions, so I take the point of my scissors to my wrist, my hips, my arm. A person appears in the mirror, I try to shake the horrid image away. It is no one, it is my mind, my overtired, over thinking mind! The image speaks to me, I speak to it, too, it makes me hurt.
All of the things that hurt, all of the things that die, just like my mother…
Tears pouring from my eyes, I hurl my hand at the mirror with all of my strength. The glass shattering all over my arm, blood gushing from my hand. In panic, I wipe it on the carpet and use some toilet tissue to create some type of wrap for my hand. I shall go to a doctor either today or tomorrow, whichever is the safest. Tomorrow is a Sunday, Sunday is a safe day, I shall go then. For now, I must get breakfast ready for the unhappy guests that are greeting me.
I feel a push at my back. My father is coming back to get the revenge he said he would have. I grab a knife, taking a swing at the spirit whom is after me, with no avail, he is still there. I feel the comfort of my husband around me, the only gentleman I ever put any trust in, he is dead. They are all dead. I am the only survivor.
It is all right, it is all safe, he is dead now, nothing to worry, he is gone, he is not here…
That is all a lie, all a lie! They are still here! All of them! I feel them in the air around me. I see my mother and my other sister. I see them happily sewing in this very dining room, making conversation. The old man walks in, drunk as ever.
He hits me first, of course. Then he goes for the others, I run to protect them, but I only get dragged by the collar into the blue wallpapered room and the door is locked. This is the one time where I go without food for two days. Once he finally leaves again, I step out to find the severed limbs of my mother and sister. I take up the unfinished stitchery and put it in my room to finish myself. I pick up a couple of rolls that were left on the counter and take them back to the room where I eat and eat, but feel only emptiness as I curl up into a ball, a pitiful lump on the floor, and sleep as heavily as the dead.
Here it is again, I do not wake at four o' clock am this time, but I wake at four o' clock pm. It is a miserable routine that MUST stop soon. I am still sitting in the aqua room, awaiting my beating, if any; if I am not left alone forever. I sit as still as a tiger waiting to catch its prey, but I feel more like prey that is about to be eaten. I decide to work on the sewing that my mother and sister left me. Goodness, did they choose dark topics to tell about! One is a skeleton, the other a corpse with a rose lying upon its breast, how morbid.
As I fix up the patterns and the weaving, the figure of my father walks not into, but through the door. I wonder how he has done this. The only powers he ever had to any of us were the power of a fist and a paddle. He is sure to be a witch. I scream and scream until he finally leaves my presence.
I step out of the room and move, quickly and quietly, to the living room and sit down on the couch and start a book. The book clears my mind, and the sleep finally tries to take over me yet again. I am dozing off as I look in the glass of the grandfather clock. I see my mother. She is sitting there, her big eyes shining, as if she has just received a wonderful gift from a friend.
It is all over, you are safe…you are safe, rest…
No. No, no, no, no! Not them again! I take up the book and use my strongest arm to whip it into the clock many times, bawling as I do so. The clock is shattered into many small pieces. The spirits are sure to be gone now! They must be! There is nothing left of my house to remind me of them. They are gone. Just to make sure they are gone, I decide to ask Veronica if I can stay the night at her home.
Walking through the night is frightening to me. The trees whistle and dance their nightly song, the water from the brook spits and spatters on the bank. I am very cold. I knock on her door, she comes to it, yawning.
"May I stay at your house for tonight?" I ask
"You may," she yawns, "do you have any idea what time it is?"
"No, mother made me destroy the clock" I reply
"You are so tired that you are talking nonsense! Get inside and warm yourself!"
I have always adored my sister's motherliness. It is what makes her so inviting. It is probably why she is such a successful seamstress. She sits me down with a blanket and some coacoa; she takes one look at my hacked up hair and questions what I do in my spare time.
"Father made me cut it" was all I could mutter
"Father is dead" she says
"No, he is not. He is still alive in the house."
"He has been dead for many years, my dear sister"
"He still scares me. He tells me that we are all worthless. He is making me cut my hair."
She holds me, her touch comforting. I feel warmer in her embrace, I have found out how incredibly cold I actually was.
"I think what you need is some good night's sleep."
With that, she leads me into my room and I sit on the bed, she sits a glass of water by the bedside and shuts off the light. I curl up in the thick blankets and close my eyes.