Again, slight blood and gore, so watch out. Next chapter will deal with Minnie. Hope you enjoy!
So by now you're starting to see a sort of pattern emerge, correct? Perhaps that will make my story as a whole more believable. Unfortunately, the tragedy still has plenty to go on. After all, you wouldn't be reading this if you didn't find want it to end too quickly. My suffering is a part of the enjoyment. I digress.
My third lifetime had me born and raised in a city that was beginning to bloom with industry. Every year the neighboring forest was chopped down little by little to make way for progress. My rank in society was not too high nor too low – I wasn't a pitiful commoner but I still had to work to earn a living. Education was still unequal between the sexes, so my forced dream career was a tutor. I would go to the homes of elegant rich daughters and teach them enough so that they didn't look like a moron when they talked at parties. I rarely complained because the pay was good, and I would often myself enamored with the young women I got to teach. My favorite – and final – student was named Daisy.
When it came to high society, it was difficult to get higher than Daisy and her family. I felt overwhelmed just by looking at their home, and it took effort just to get my feet inside. I felt it was a very lonely house, for every step I took echoed across the many rooms. The only people I saw within that first day were Daisy and her father, and the latter left for business once the payment negotiations were over. I got the impression that her father was the kind who always put business before pleasure, but I didn't dare speak of it. Daisy, on the other hand, burst to life the moment her father was out of the room.
She was a very pretty thing, with pretty eyes and pretty feathers, and had she been smaller, she could have been mistaken for the kind of doll I longed for as a child. She wasn't terribly bright, but then, that was what I was here for. We exchanged quick pleasantries, and then I set straight to work. I began taking out several books, ready to start off her lessons. Most girls I had taught would sit still and be quiet as I readied myself and be obedient to my every command. Daisy was not like most girls.
"Are you married?" She asked before I had even flipped to the first page. Typically when one woman asked another this question, it was nearly catty, and I was at an age where a ring should have been on my finger quite a few years ago. But Daisy was genuinely curious, striking up a conversation, and gazing up at me expectantly.
Though I could sense her good intent, I was still flustered at the sudden invasion of privacy. "Ah… no, I'm not."
"That's a shame, you're so lovely." She cocked her head to a side, thoroughly examining me. "You know, you would look very nice with your hair down. That bun doesn't do you any justice. Come now, take it down!" It seems I didn't have any say in this, as she stood up, and on her tippy-toes, reached up to weave her fingers through my hair. "There!"She triumphantly announced when my long hair fell at my shoulders. "Oh yes, so much better. How was I supposed to pay any attention when you don't pay attention to your own looks?"
Somehow she became the teacher, and began to instruct me on how to better improve my looks and fashion sense. I couldn't get mad at her because I knew every action she took was made with her best intentions in mind. We easily went into conversations outside of class, talking of our everyday lives while time flew fast. She was bubbly and delightful, and I found myself adoring her as one would an excitable little sister. I was actually reluctant to leave when her father returned, and I noticed how quiet and withdrawn she became when he made himself known. I would return in a few days for a follow up lesson… well, really, the first lesson. We hadn't gotten a single thing accomplished that day, aside from sparking up a friendship.
As I stood on her front steps, I was ready to put my hair back up in my traditional bun, but decided against it. When I walked home that day, it appeared as though Daisy's advice that more wisdom than I gave her credit for, as I could feel the interested gaze of several men I passed. I couldn't find the will to speak to any of them, but my confidence had gotten a significant raise. I began looking forward to seeing Daisy again, though I would try to put up a bigger fight to actually teach her something. Even the usual nightmares had a difficult time erasing my good spirit… though they did succeed.
Yes, I had the nightmares again in this lifetime. This time, I relived both my time as the naïve dog breeder and the doomed queen. Every night I would be forced to encounter the man in red, and I desperately wanted to believe they were nothing more than nightmares. In this life, I never spoke of them to anyone, for fear I would be locked up in a madhouse. Yet for so long I was terrified that the man in red would come and bring death to myself and those I cared for. What did he want? Why was he after me?
I never shared these feelings with Daisy. It was the only thing I never told her, for in the weeks of my visits to her, we shared everything else. She continued to give me advice about how to live more comfortable with my appearance, and every so often I managed to squeeze in a lesson. But when the seasons began to change, so would our lives. Summer was chilling into fall when I noticed a new picture frame resting on her mantle. I picked it up as I entered the room, and saw it was a photograph of a rather handsome duck, donned mostly in green with a grin that looked a little condescending. I inquired about him, and she replied with an odd dullness in her voice "That's Gladstone Gander, my fiancé."
I nearly dropped the frame in surprise. She had never mentioned a fiancé before! I hastily returned the frame back to its place and rushed to congratulate her. However, her enthusiasm was non-existent. The usual cheeriness I had come to associate with her was dampened as I tried to ask for information about him. "My father introduced us last week. We're to be married before winter. He's very nice." She only stated the facts, and portrayed no emotion in them. I could bring no joy into this context, and so I changed the subject, and she easily enough sprung to life. We walked for hours, and though I was curious as to why she wasn't happy with Gladstone, I decided to leave it be for now.
It was time for afternoon tea when I heard an odd rattling at the windows. I figured it was the wind and ignored it, but Daisy once again changed. This time, her cheeks flushed a radiant pink, and she stared at the window expectantly. She seemed to forget I was there, hastily shoving her teacup aside, smoothing down her dress, and then quickly getting up out of her seat, aiming for the window. She then stopped, remembering she wasn't alone and uneasily looked back at me. Embarrassed, she unsteadily sat back down, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "Um. It's… probably nothing."
I couldn't help but smirk at how terrible a liar she was. I placed my own cup aside and took to the window to see what the problem was. I opened the window, and saw that someone had been throwing small pebbles at it. Looking down, I saw a young man roughly Daisy's age, but aside from being another duck, they were hardly alike. He was absolutely filthy, the most common of the commoners, his clothes a tattered rag and many of his feathers dusty black with soot. He had been about to throw another pebble when he realized he would have struck me, and dropped it sheepishly. "Good afternoon!" He squawked, his voice nearly unintelligible. "Can I… wash your windows, miss?"
I recognized his type, the one who would do any odd job, and from the rank smell of him I could guess he had been through three dumpsters and two chimneys already. I couldn't have such a ruffian interfering with my lesson, but it didn't feel right to reject him with nothing. "These aren't my windows. Now, move along." I managed to fish out a coin from my purse, and lightly tossed it his way. I didn't bother to see if he had caught it, closing the window and returning to my seat. Daisy had been watching the interaction, and still stared at the window, stirring her tea with her index finger. I had to clear my throat three times to get her attention.
"He's harmless, really." She explained as she met my questioning gaze. "He comes around every once in a while, and I let him clean up. His name is Donald. Isn't he nice?" At once I noticed a difference from the 'Gladstone' nice and 'Donald' nice. Before, she had merely told me Gladstone was nice, an indifferent fact that everyone knew. But with Donald, she readily believed he was nice, and really wanted to make me believe the same. I was uncomfortable at the difference in social classes, but at the same time, I didn't want to change Daisy's happy tone. I managed to sway the conversation into other matters, but every so often she would return her fond gaze at the window.
When I left that day, Donald was gone, but I thought of him as I walked. It was quite obvious Daisy had an infatuation with him, but I tried to reassure myself that it was a simple crush. Perhaps Donald didn't even return his feelings, and Daisy was young, she had plenty of time to get over it and enjoy Gladstone's company. I was so wrapped up in these thoughts that I didn't watch where I was going, and I bumped into a police officer. I apologized profusely, but he didn't mind, and to add onto my humility, he was a very handsome young man. Daisy's beauty tips worked their charm, and not five minutes had passed before we knew each other's names – he was Keith – and he asked to see me over the weekend. Delighted at being courted, I pushed Donald and Daisy out of my mind for days, and only allowed my nightmares to trouble me.
With such happiness around me, I told myself that there was no reason for the man in red to ever see me when I was awake. Those previous lives were archaic and barbaric, but this was the age of civilized men. I had no reason to die young, nor did anyone around me. After every nightmare, I became foolishly arrogant, and declared to no one that my life was perfect. There was nothing he could do to me, and I would rebel against him by living happily and keeping those I cared for happy. He couldn't give that damn invitation to those who wanted nothing to change. Perhaps it was this arrogance that helped rush my fate.
The oncoming fall was filled with rain. Despite the gloominess that rain tends to bring, many of my dates with Keith had been during the rain, so I came to treasure it. I was looking forward to seeing Daisy and telling her of my romantic rendezvous, but as I walked towards her house that day, I heard a light 'caw' from a lamppost I had just passed. Crows were a rare sight in the city, so I turned to look at the bird, faintly amused. But as soon as I saw it, I knew it not to be a crow, for it was a raven, with unholy familiar eyes. The same eyes that my dear Pluto, my dear Goofy, that man in the red carried – the blood red that spoke of my nightmares. I stared at it, and it stared at me.
There was no mistake, this was the raven from my night terrors. I couldn't breathe, and the world moved slowly around me. Was this a sign of things to come? Was death really this close? It was tempting to given into my fears and run away like a madwoman, as I had the other lifetimes. But now I was prideful – my life was happy, and nothing could ruin it. Though I was still afraid, I tightened my grip around my umbrella, and smacked it against the lamppost. The bird fluttered around, and then took off, and I watched it until it was gone from my line of vision. I may have looked ridiculous there, starting to get wet, striking a lamppost with my umbrella in order to startle off a bird, but I didn't care. To me, it was a sign of defiance. I would live my life fully, to the happiest, and to hell with those with red eyes. I relished in my small victory before I realized I was running late for my lesson, and so I resumed my walk.
Donald had taken advantage of my short absence. I saw him as I came around the corner, standing in the rain and chatting up a storm with Daisy at her window. I couldn't hear them, but their faces were sheerest happiness, occasionally letting their fingers touch and I was forced to admit that I had never seen Daisy as gleeful as she was with him. The boy was humble with his affection, grateful just to be seen with her, while Daisy enjoyed coy laughter and flirting touches to his beak. They were wrapped up in their own little world, probably assuming that the rain would mean less people to catch them. Wasn't it my duty as tutor to protect her?
I slowly approached the two, and lightly called Daisy's name to get their equal attention. They could have jumped right out of their feathers, they were so surprised, and I held back a laugh. "Well now, Mister Donald," I spoke with pretend snobbishness, wagging a lecturing finger at him. "I won't have you expose my pupil to a cold. You're coming with me." I grabbed him by the shoulder, and pushed him inside the house. He didn't know whether to thank me or fear me, but I offered him a kind smile. How could I be mad at the man who brought my dear Daisy such happiness?
We all sat in the living room and Daisy explained the whole affair to me. Months before she was arranged with Gladstone, her father had Donald clean their chimney. Daisy caught him during the cleaning, and when she had tried to clean the soot off of his face, he had barked back that he would get dirty again anyway. They argued, and for reasons I'm still not sure I understand, that lit up romance between the two. Donald would come over every chance he got, and sometimes when Daisy's father wasn't home at night, they'd sneak away to the remains of the forest to be together. During the conversation, they held hands, and Donald would chime in every so often to correct a part of her story, though Daisy would argue that she was right, and every fight wound up with affectionate kisses to the cheek.
"But the wedding is getting closer and closer." Daisy finished her tale with a sad note, hanging her head. "And we don't know what to do… Daddy will never approve of Donald, but I can't marry Gladstone. I don't love him." Donald put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. What he lacked in money he made up for in love, and there was no doubt what these two had was the real thing. Gladstone was a marriage of money and nothing more. My heart wept for Daisy and her circumstances, and I felt implored to help.
I went on my knees before my student, trying to get her to face me. "All fathers love their daughters," I spoke softly, doing my best to assure her as a teacher should. "He cares about your happiness more than getting a few more pennies in his pocket. Explain it to him… and I will back you both up."
This delighted Daisy, grasping my hands in both of hers. "Oh, miss Emily, would you really?"
"Of course. You know I love you more than anything in the world. All I could ever want is your happiness, and if Donald makes you happy, then you must be together." I had barely finished my sentence before Daisy threw her arms around my neck in a tight hug, and I returned the embrace. Donald mumbled a shy thanks in turn, and the cold rain on my skin was warmed by the amount of love the room overflowed with. This was the age of civility, and reason would triumph over greed. I so deeply believed this. The rest of the afternoon was spent in talks of their love, and my love for Keith, and the boundless futures for us all.
I met again with Keith many days later, and I told him of what had happened between my student and the peasant. He was surprised, and he told me that he and the entire police force were on good terms with Daisy's father. "Men like that help us out a lot." He seemed to be trying to word it right so I wouldn't be confused – he made it a habit of dumbing down his conversation for me. "They add extra to our payroll for keeping their families safe… so long as we never discuss it too much." He tapped his nose, indicating that this practice may not have been entirely legal. "I've met Gladstone too. A fine man. I'm sure Miss Daisy will come around." I found it odd that he wasn't on my side about the matter, but I too in turn was sure he would come around. I had no idea just how deep the police would go for that extra payroll.
Winter was fast approaching, and the rain hadn't stopped. Rumors had it that parts of the forest had gotten flooded. I was woken early from my nightmares one morning by insistent pounding on the door. I quickly dressed and was surprised to find Daisy's father at my front door. His face was lined with fury, as I could nearly count his pulsating veins, yet when he spoke it was tranquil. "I need you to come with me right away. There's an urgent matter with my daughter we must all discuss together." I had no idea what he meant, but I thought perhaps Daisy was ill or injured. Worried, I quickly agreed, and followed him, not even having enough time to grab my umbrella.
When we arrived at his house, he slammed the door behind him, and demanded to know how long I had known about Daisy's affair with Donald. With every word he spoke, the tranquility left his voice and replaced it with a fierce angry so frightening I forgot how to speak. I backed up, trying to reason with him, but he accused me of withholding information and trying to corrupt his daughter. He wasn't going to let his daughter waste a good opportunity for trash, he wasn't going to let scum like that ruin her, he would have Donald arrested and killed by the morning, on and on his tirade went. I backed myself into a corner, and from there, I saw Daisy in the living room.
The spirit I so admired in her was gone. She now really was a doll, still and silent, staring straight ahead. I could see fresh bruises on her wrists and one cheek, and I knew if I dared speak up against her father, I would share the same injuries. I choked out apologies as he loomed over me, and cowered before him for mercy. He said I would stay at this house overnight to make sure I wouldn't go and help Donald out, and come the morning, Daisy would marry Gladstone. I just agreed to everything he said, and found myself unable to look at my pupil.
When his tirade was over, I was given a room, and I dared not to leave it. For all my love for Daisy, I could not go against her father. I cried for many hours, lamenting my cowardice and our unhappy fate. Had Keith been giving me a subtle warning? Would he help give Donald a death sentence, for the crime of loving someone outside his class? In one swift day, the happiness I had been so proud of drowned in the cold rain. I didn't eat, and I was too afraid to sleep, thinking somehow the man in red would mock me for trying to be happy.
Night fell, and by then, a tiny bit of my resolve had grown back. Though it would pain me to do so, I wanted to go and see Daisy, to apologize for all that had happened. I waited until I thought her father would be asleep, and crept out of my room. I tip-toed down the stairway, but midway, I heard hushed talking. I recognized the voices – Daisy and Donald. I was amazed to hear from him again, and I pressed myself against the stairwell, trying to see them without being seen myself. They were in front of the fireplace, and the forbidden lovers held hands as they despairingly looked at one another.
Donald had been beaten and blooded to a disgusting degree, and he told her of how the police had grabbed him off the streets and bludgeoned him over and over with pistols and nightsticks, on orders from her father. He managed to fend them off and return a few black eyes, but striking a police officer was itself a death warrant. His left eye was swollen, many feathers had fallen off, and a trace of blood rolled down his head, and Daisy was struggling not to emit loud cries. "I can't live without you," She sobbed, clutching onto his arms, and I forced myself to look away. "If you die… I'll die too! I'd rather die than be with anyone else! I won't leave you!"
Donald could find no words of comfort to give her, and so all he could do was hold her. Hot tears blinded me, knowing that we had run into a hopeless situation. I shook with sadness, and when I thought nothing could make this worse, I heard a rustle from the chimney. I didn't give it too much thought, but the ducks shared a gasp as something - someone – came out from the fireplace, and I heard the voice that had haunted my dreams. "Well now, maybe I can help out."
I caught my breath and prayed that I had misheard. I ever so slowly turned around, but there, there, damn it all, there he was – the mouse in red and black, with golden spider webs and eyes of hellfire, without a trace of ash on him. He was talking casually to the confused ducks, and I didn't hear too much, as I clasped my hands over my ears and rocked my head back and forth in denial. Why was he here? Why now? Was I going to die? But how could I? I wasn't locked in any war, no one had any reason to strike me dead! Yet every time this man appeared, my life ended soon after. His terrible smell, his terrible presence, I felt it grasp my throat and I could not breathe. I was going to die, he was the grim reaper, and all was lost.
But then – only then – did I remember that he first killed the ones I loved. He was here to go after my Daisy – not my Daisy! Every time I had seen him, I had run away, and I so badly wanted to do this time. But I had defied his raven, I could do it again. I would not let him kill Daisy. I forced myself to stand, and I saw that he had already given them his invitations. Forgetting the slumbering temper, I ran towards the group, and shouted in a mix of fear and anger. "You stay away from them!" He wasn't surprised to see me, and looked at me with a calm smile, even as I grabbed him by the collar of his clothes and slammed him to the wall. I heard the ducks cry my name in worry, but I was determined to protect them. I shook and I cried, but I was not going to let him go. "Take your empty promises elsewhere! I won't let you kill them!"
He kept smiling, nonplussed by my threat. "Nice ta see ya too, Emily. Always early ta the party, huh? Wanna wish the newlyweds good luck?"
"Leave them be!" I slapped his face, but no bruise appeared. The touch of his cheek was ice cold, and in fright, I dropped him.
He landed easily enough on his feet, and smoothed down his clothes. "Guess yer not ready ta accept the invitation right. Good thing I'm patient! 'Course, I understand these two." The two numbly looked at the paper envelopes in their hand, unsure of what to think. "I can't until the day I find my sweetheart." He lightly pat his chest, sighing fondly. "But I'm sure she'll come along just fine. I just gotta wait it out. And when I find her, I don't plan on lettin' her go… I'm sure you feel the same way."
I was about to scream at him to shut up, but Donald spoke before me. "I… I do. I feel the same way." He looked to Daisy, and nodded in agreement. "I won't let you go. No matter what." He grabbed her hand, and the two, alike in mind, fled out of the room, heading for the front door.
"Wait, don't!" I yelled after them, knowing a chase would only make things worse. I looked back to the man in red to blame him, but he was gone. It was if he had never appeared in the first place. I stood there, dumbfounded, and then I heard the door slam. The runaway lovers were gone. I knew I had to go after them, but when I stepped out of the room, I heard another door slam open, followed by the angry voice of Daisy's father from the top of the stairs. No doubt my screams had helped waken him up. I rushed to the end of the stairway, hoping to ease his anger, but he was already in a rage. Then, he fell.
Had he tripped? Had some unknown force pushed him? I cannot say. Whatever the reason, he fell over the stairs, and his body twisted with each step, fumbling down until he collapsed in front of me, his neck and head askew. He didn't move, he didn't breathe, and though I did not touch him, I knew he was dead. The rampage of death in this lifetime had already begun. I could not even muster a scream, because I knew who would be next. I ran for the front door, and I saw various police officers going door to door, looking for Donald. Keith was among them. Even then, I still cared for him. But I could not trust him.
I knew where Donald and Daisy would head – the forest, the little getaway for their romantic romps. Keith saw me and called my name, but I ran past him, and the rain drowned out any further shouts for me. They'd find the father's dead body soon, and I had little doubt that they would blame it on Donald too. The forest was damp and murky, as the hard rain had made several small rivers in what space it could be. I saw Daisy's shoes in the wet grass, and a small sense of relief filled me. Surely she was close, and she was okay. I could stop her from accepting the invitation!
I ran faster, but the rain began to blind me, and I fell face first into one of the shallow rivers that appeared overnight. I spat about, trying to regain my balance as I sat on my knees. I rubbed my eyes, and saw a familiar hemline in the river. Without thinking, I grabbed it, and pulled it close to me – sweet Daisy, my Daisy, my dearest friend, my kindest pupil – but when I held her, her arms did not return the favor. I pulled back to lay her in my arms, and she was the final stage of being a doll. She was lifeless.
In the river beside us was Donald, his body face down in the river, and two opened envelopes floating on top of the water. I was too late. They were dead. I howled in anguish, in anger, in everything that we had and everything we lost. I cradled Daisy's body to my chest, rocking her back and forth while I sobbed. How could he have taken them away from me? Why did he do this? What joy did he find in hurting these innocent young ones? I stayed there for the longest time, cradling my student, wishing her eyes would sparkle back to the giddy life she enamored me to.
Eventually, who knows how much time had passed, someone grabbed the back of my hair. It was Keith, and through the storm he was accusing me of drowning the ducks. I opened my mouth to object, but nothing came out. Was it really my fault? Had my arrogance to the red eyed demons spelled out their deaths? Keith continued accusing me and took out his pistol, saying he was going to arrest me for murder. I tried to grab for it – I would not be known for killing someone I cherished! I argued with him, tried to reason with him, we wrestled for the pistol, and between our fighting fingers, it went off.
A hot pain entered my chest, and I fell back into the river. As always, the moment of death begins to blur for me. Was the water spilling into my chest, or was my blood spilling into the water? Was Keith firing more shots at me to ensure my death, or was that just the pounding of the rain? Water filled my nostrils, my ears, my ears, my lungs, my body. I was at once freezing and on fire. It was a long, painful, agonizing death. I know what I saw last.
My Daisy and her Donald, walking away hand in hand, with the man in red at their side. He saw me, and I know exactly what he said, what he had always said at the end.
"See ya next time, Emily."
And that was the third time I died.
End of Chapter Three.