Part Four: In which there are unexplained disappearances, a death, and Harriet gets the last laugh
I became conscious again just after it became night. I usually love this time, and consider it magical. It was not magical to me now, as I was trying to get over the fact that I was just attacked by something, or someone, that I couldn't see. Scrambling up the hill and towards the house, I could only make out the outlines. I was tripping over my own feet, and thinking about what the heck was going on and where did Sarah go when—THUD—I fell flat on my face. I couldn't get up, I had sprained one of my ankles by the feel of it, and my mouth was full of dirt and weeds. I groaned, and tried to lift myself up. After a couple of tries, I started moving, limping quickly, towards the house. I had some questions that I wanted answered.
As I neared the house, I could here my mother's muffled cries, and my dad's comforting words. Looking into the window, I could see my mom sitting on the chair and crying her heart out. They must be wondering where I am, I thought to myself. I opened the door and eased myself in, not wanting to hurt myself any further.
I was greeted by my parents, who had become frightened after I didn't come home for dinner. But I learned, much to my concern, that I wasn't the only one missing.
"Oh Jessie," my Mother sobbed between gasps, "have you seen Sarah? She…she…hasn't come home! We tried to call the police, but…but…the phone wires had been cut…" Harriet, I immediately thought. I had begun to believe in her after she nearly choked me to death. Who wouldn't?
"Where's Lila?" I asked.
"She's upstairs in her room," replied my dad, "she wanted to take a rest and read—" but my dad's words were abruptedly ended by my sister's shrill screams.
We all ran up the stairs, shouting her name and trying to get a reply. When we got to the top of the stairs, the attic door was wide open. Lila had gone into the attic. My parents made me go up there, while they searched the rest of the house for Lila. I reluctantly climbed the rickety stairs, and each step creaked as if they were telling me to get out. The attic was large, with enough cobwebs to stretch to the moon and back. It was filled with objects from the past; a wedding dress, a gas-powered lamp, and many photographs of the same girl and her family. The first was of a happy blonde-haired toddler, a smiling mother, and a solemn looking father. The next was of the same child, now older, looking depressed, with her father behind her, smiling bitterly. The mother wasn't there. The next photograph was even more puzzling. The girl was alone. The father wasn't there, the mother wasn't there, and she was just by herself. She was angry this time. She wasn't dressed as well as the first picture, she was shabby and scrawny. Then something strange happened. I could feel what the girl was thinking. Her thoughts came to me like a wave. "My step-father killed my mother… It was him… He treated me like a slave...he treated me like I didn't exist… And then he killed me… But I had my revenge… He got what he deserved…"
"Jessie?" it was undeniably the voice of Sarah. I wheeled around, about to hug my sister, but I shrieked in horror. Instead of my sister there was a little girl, right in front of me, with white skin, blood red eyes, and sharp teeth. It was Harriet. I screamed and she disappeared. I wanted to get out of there, to run for my life, but I had to find Lila. I knew she was in this attic! I ran panting to the other side of the room and there, I found myself staring into the lifeless eyes of Lila, still wide with shock. My sister was dead. At that moment I heard a soft, childish laugh by my ear.
"You loose."
That night was July 18th, 1955. It was the worst night of my life, and I'll never forget it.