Authors Notes: Okay guys, I wrote this because I was reading my friend Vee's fic, One o'clock, which is EXTREAMLY good, and it put me in a mood. Add that to the score for Sleepy Hollow, written by Danny Elfman and you've got the kind of combination that creates creepy one shots like this. Now…this IS a one shot so please don't ask for a sequel or an update. I wrote it to get it out of my head and there's a possibility I'll make a novel out of it if I really try…in which case this story will be deleted from
The names I used in this are the English names, not the Japanese names and that is for a reason. I wanted to give the setting more of an England type feel so I stuck with the English names. Its also AU. So, keep an open mind if you stumbled across this and aren't really sure if you're into things like this. I hope it leaves you guys feeling at least a little bit spooked. And if you cant tell, I'm already itching for Halloween to hurry up and get here!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or any of its characters.
The Dead Of Night
The cold settled in gradually, like a spook descending upon the one it intended to scare, using silence as its weapon even though it had no reason for doing so. For what reason would a ghost have to put forth effort into being stealthy? With the chill the leaves changed, fading in their greens and turning shades of red and gold that were beautiful in the light of day, but brittle when gray clouds filled the sky, threatening to bring with them the snow that the villagers of the small town expected.
Settled between the valleys and surrounded by woods, Elbeth was a town that had seen many a harsh winter and had lost several of their townsfolk to the drastically low temperatures, or at least that's what they told themselves. It was never a surprise when someone came down with a deathly cold or flu and had to be taken to the town doctor. Most of them expected this fate and did the best they could to prevent the worst from happening. This year though, as the winter started late and the temperatures stayed surprisingly warm, the villagers believed themselves safe for one year and breathed a collective sigh of relief.
It was at that moment, when they all started to relax, when mothers stopped over bundling their children and men stopped fearing what lay in store for their families, that she returned.
She came with the cold, almost as if she were bringing it with her. She floated in on the creeping fog. It swirled around her kidskin booted feet as they passed over the rough gravel road, clung to the folds of her cream satin skirts, caressed the soft fur cloak that draped from a set of tiny shoulders.
Eyes the color of the ocean stared straight ahead, looking upon the sleeping town with not a trace of emotion. She saw the light of candles flickering in the windows, the shadows pass over walls as people moved around in their small houses. And she felt the peace. The town was full of it, pulsating with strong heartbeats and trust. It was a good town-one that had been blessed with close friendships and strong family ties.
The woman, pale of complexion and slight of frame, made a small humming noise and paused to scan the tiny village. Trees outlined it like a fence, hills rose above their tops, extending toward the overcast sky where a full moon tried feebly to cast its light over the land. At the end of town she could make out the point of a church above the rooftops and past that, where the road seemed to end, the manor that overlooked the village. It was a large home, much larger than the small houses that lined the gravel street, and several of the arched windows produced weak, flickering candlelight. It gave the manor an eerie, unfriendly look.
Full pink lips quirked up in an unpleasant smile and the woman started forward again. On either side of her, long pigtails of spun gold hair flowed, shining despite the darkness. She was a woman that exuded beauty and light, yet on the inside, was as cold as ice. As cold as death.
She made her way up the steady incline to the manor, climbed the three stairs to a narrow porch and used the snarling lion knocker to announce her presence. Several minutes later the door was pulled open by a bleary eyed young man with a tousle of raven colored hair and fresh stubble shading his jaw. He managed a muffled greeting, obviously still half asleep and rubbed the heel of his palm against his eye. She said nothing.
"Its late. What do you need? And at this ungodly hour it had damn well better be something important," the man growled. Now he looked up and his eyes, a deep, startling blue that had captivated many woman, widened in shock. "My God…Serena?" he uttered in disbelief.
Again, she said nothing.
Darien Shields stared at the pale features of his wife-a wife who had, two months ago, disappeared. "I…I can't believe it. I thought you had died! The entire village did…yet here you stand."
The touch of awe in his voice brought a cold, tight smile to her lips. Without a word, she crossed the threshold, brushing past him. She felt his warmth like an infestation, an unwanted disease, and the smile left her face. As she paced the foyer, her gaze passing over everything from the elegant curved stairway to the marble floor and the richly painted portraits of unsmiling ancestors, he followed her, staying close to her heels.
"We spent a month searching for you. I tried to continue after the others had given up…but I quickly lost faith that I would ever see you again. Where were you Serena?"
She could smell beeswax and lemon. This wasn't the way the house had smelled when she had left it. It had smelled like wild flowers and the sweet summer air. It had smelled like her. Now it smelled too clean, as if someone had tried to scrub away any trace of her.
Two hands suddenly gripped her shoulder, roughly turning her to face her bewildered husband. His dark hair hung in his eyes, eyes that were now narrowed in slight suspicion. His pajamas, consisting of deep navy silk pants and a matching nightshirt, hung over his muscular frame. Many of the buttons holding his shirt together had come unbuttoned. Probably from tossing and turning in the massive bed they had shared for three years. A "v" of hairless chest was exposed, tanned flesh stared back at her, mocking her. It would have, at one time, had been tempting to reach out and press her cool fingers to that spot…but now? The very idea was repulsive.
"Serena, my love…why won't you speak to me? Has something happened?" he asked. His voice had a desperate edge to it and that pleased her immensely.
She moved past him towards the coat rack that hid in the dark corner beside the door, which was still gaping open and grabbed his cloak, handing it to him. Outside the fog had taken over the small valley. It lay like a blanket over the earth and the moon was still nowhere to be seen. Silence. That's all there was now. No wind, no incessant chirping of crickets, no barking of village dogs or the loan cry of the wolves that sometimes prowled the hilltops late at night. Just silence. And it was into that silence that she took him.
When they reached the foot of the steps he stopped. "Now just a moment Serena…what's going on?" he asked, his voice growing less unsure and more demanding by the second. "You show up here in the dead of night after missing for two months and then drag me out into the night without saying a word. I demand to know what you're planning right now."
Slowly, Serena turned to face him. The mist curled around her, hugging her body and she smiled. One hand reached up and undid the clasp that secured her fur cape over her shoulders, and with a harsh whisper, it slid away, leaving her exposed. The bodice of her gown was cut drastically low, and the creation lacked straps or sleeves, leaving the swell of her breasts, her collarbone, shoulder and arms completely bare. It was with that and her haunted eyes, that she seduced him into joining her, into following her into the woods where the trees crept up from the ground as if trying to unearth themselves, stretching gnarled, dead limbs towards the black sky and the fog drifted ghostlike above the damp ground. Here, no light existed. Yet he followed, a slave to his passion and the tempting sight of his wife's flesh.
They went deep into the forest, farther and farther until they came to a clearing that lacked fog and trees. The gray, opaque clouds drifted around the clearing, circling it, almost as if it were afraid to go anywhere near this circular expanse of bare earth.
Fearlessly, Serena went to the center of the circle and spun to face her husband. A seductive smile curved her lips and she lifted a hand, curling one tapered finger in invitation, beckoning him forward.
Darien could not resist her. He moved forward, his movements no longer his own for now she controlled his body, his actions, his thoughts. When he stopped in front of her, it was her doing, when his hands eagerly sought out her breasts, weighing them, caressing the soft flesh that swelled above the neckline of her gown, it was her doing, when his teeth came down on the gentle curve of her neck where her scent was strongest, it was her doing. Everything was because of her.
She pulled him down to the earth that would be their bed, straddling his waist and allowing him to watch as she ran her hands over her body, as she pulled her hair free of its restraints and let the golden tresses spill across his chest and onto the earth. He said her name over and over, sometimes whispering, sometimes groaning out each syllable as if he were dying.
When he was certain he could take no more of this sweet torture, he made an attempt to push her onto her back only to find that he couldn't. Something held him where he was. He looked down, expecting to see the sweet flash of skin and Serena's knee holding him in place and instead saw a hand protruding from the ground, shackling him in its icy, dead grip. He opened his mouth to scream and another decayed hand slapped over his mouth. He could feel the bones of fleshless fingers digging into his cheek and the stench of death caused him to gag.
And there was Serena, still perched upon him, watching him with a sadistic smile. He made a weak attempt to call out to her, to beg for help, but she was not listening. Finally she spoke, and when she did he truly wished that she had just remained silent, for her voice was no longer hers. It was the voice of many-of the children, of the healthy young women and young strapping lads who had died over the years. They spoke to him now, their voices low, rasping and angry.
"Do you recognize this place, Darien Shields? Do you recognize this unmarked graveyard?" they asked.
He shook his head, but he knew. He'd been here many a time…and she knew that. They…knew that.
"Ahh…but you lie love. You lie, good town doctor." In eerie unison, the voices laughed. "You know this place…it is your home away from home, is it not?"
Serena leaned forward, watching him with those pale blue eyes that were just as haunted as the earth beneath him. This time when she spoke, it was her own voice that he had once found so soothing. Now though, it held only spite. "I used to fear every winter, just as the villagers did, wondering who would be next, which of my friends would lose a loved one or worse, die herself. I used to fear that, yet at the same time I had hope. Hope that you, my love," she sneered, "would save these helpless souls. I knew that you were strong in your profession and that it was your sworn duty to protect those you tended. I was a fool…and you thought that as well, did you not?"
Darien struggled against the dead hands holding him. His blue eyes were filled with terror. He shook his head fiercely from side to side, as if to deny what she was saying was true.
"You did. I know you did. I happened upon you one night, as you were caring for Timothy Sutton. He was very ill…he was going to die, and I wanted to watch a miracle happen. I wanted to see you save him. Instead…I watched you kill him. I watched you inject a poison into his body and seconds later he died. He died by your hand…dear, sweet doctor.
"After you were certain that he was no longer breathing, I watched you pick him up…I followed you into the woods…followed you to this very spot where you dug a hole and buried him. Not even two days later Natalia Olson perished…and I watched you do the same thing. Winter was not the killer in this tiny village…you were."
Serena stood slowly, staring down her pert nose at him with despite. "You, who everyone trusted, killed all of those innocent people…and then…you killed me."
The mist gathered now, shadowing the hands that unearthed themselves and reached up, their decayed fingers clawing the ground and closing in around Darien. He was crying in earnest now, screaming against the hand that clamped down on his mouth with inhuman strength.
"You had realized that I knew…and while I slept, you injected into my body the same thing that you used to destroy the lives of your other patients. You…whom I had loved so dearly at one time, murdered me and took me out here to be with the rest of your victims. Do not think me a fool Darien, for I am the only one who was wise enough, and strong enough to come back and carry out revenge for myself, and every other poor soul that has died by your hand. And it is I who will take you to your grave, my love."
The hands circling his wrists started to pull, as did the one smothering his shrieks of horror. The others joined in as well, covering his body and tugging him down, but he knew the ones intent on burying him alive were hers. They pulled at his wrists without mercy, tearing the flesh with their nails, marking him with angry bruises and they did not stop until the earth swallowed him whole.
Serena listened to the sound of his screams, waiting for the earth to muffle them and eventually stopped them all together. It was done. A content smile passed over her lips, causing her face to twist in a frightful mask. But that was not a surprising thing for her, for what ghost was remembered for being beautiful? Certainly none she had ever heard of. And that was what she was now…a ghost, a spook…a creature forced to stay upon the earth until its days were up because her soul was burdened by an awful secret that she could not tell.
The smile upon her face vanished, leaving the pale features drawn and Serena turned towards her home, drifting with the mist as it shrunk away from the haunted clearing and revealed the hand that reached up out of the ground, moving…twisting…bending…until it fell still.
If you guys have any questions as to why the villagers acted the way they did or why Darien did…I'll explain. The villagers did not point fingers at the doctor, but instead felt there was something more to all the deaths than there was. They simply did not point fingers but instead, had their suspicions and kept them to themselves.
Why Darien acted as if he were so happy to see her and not at all guilty? Wouldn't you want to act as normal as possible if your significant other suddenly showed up after you had "supposedly" killed her? He was shocked, and simply trying to cover up what he did by acting like the sweet devoted husband who missed his wife instead of the sadistic man who killed her off because she knew too much. Any other questions…please feel free to email and ask! Thanks guys!