This scene was TOTALLY inspired by a nightmare I had. When I wrote it I was home alone and got so freaked out I ended up sitting in a corner with a flashlight and a kitchen knife.
Marina-
Four days late came the most terrifying night of my life. I was sleeping in my room, as I usually was at one a.m., when I heard a murmuring in the hall. I'm not sure how loud it actually was, Icthyo hearing isn't the greatest, but it was loud enough to wake me up. I lay there for a few minute, listening to it, and then as it began to come closer I started to get scared.
It was a weird sound. It sounded emotionless, mechanical, but every few seconds it would break into a short burst of hysterical laughter. But, despite this, I couldn't sense one single emotion, almost as if it was a recording. As it got closer, I realized it was singing. There was someone in my hall chanting to themselves, in a singsong voice. They sounded, well, dangerous.
I felt the muscles in my chest begin to constrict, my gills pulling inwards to my neck, and I shrank under my covers. The singing was now a few doors down from me, and I could understand the words.
Oranges and Lemons
Say the bells of Saint Clemens
You owe me five farthings
Say the bells of Saint Martins…
At this point there was a small burst of laughter which dissolved into a sort of muffled sob. The crying became more and more desperate, interspaced with little cries of "help" so that I felt as though my heart would break if I didn't aid whoever was outside my door. I got to my feet, and went to my door. I held my breath, and opened the door.
In the hall was Fiona.
It took me a minute to recognize her. She was crumpled in a heap a few feet away. I must have made a noise, because she looked up at me, and her eyes were dreadfully empty, and I sensed nothing. I stepped backwards at the sight of her blank face, but she lunged at me and grabbed the hem of my bathrobe. She looked up at me and whimpered "please, please, I can't help it, I can't remember it."
I somehow managed a muffled "what can't you remember." She looked up plaintively at me, through her webbed fingers and said
"What do the bells of O'Bailey say?"
I was so startled by this plaintive request that it took me a few seconds to answer. I sang to her in a chocked voice.
"You owe me five farthings
Said the bells of St. Martins
When will you pay me?
Said the bells of O'Bailey."
She laughed delightedly, clapped her hands and stood up. She looked like a four year old who has just been given what she wanted for Christmas.
"Oh, good, you know it. We can sing it together."
I shook my head, and said weakly
"Fi, I think we should go get a teacher" This triggered off a fit. She grabbed the front of my bathrobe and shook me back and forth. Then she brought her face close to mine and whispered, her huge blue eyes whirling in panic, in a scared tone of voice
"I can't see the teacher, we have to sing it, and otherwise they'll get mad at me."
I asked her who would get mad, and she answered "Them. We have to sing it. Now." She burst into quiet tears and sat down on the floor.
I did the only thing I could think of doing. And that is how I ended up sitting in the hall with my friend, sitting on the floor and hugging her, quietly singing.
Oranges and Lemons
Say the bells of St. Clemens.
You owe me five farthings
Said the bells of St. Martins
When will you pay me?
Said the bells of O'Bailey
When I grow rich
Say the bells of Shore ditch
When will that be?
Ask the bells of Step Knee
I do not know;
Says the big bell of Bow.