I'm going to get one thing clear: My life was great. Before Molly came, it was ok, but after she came, my life was perfect. She matched me perfectly. She had a deep love of herbs and medicine, just as I did, and a lovely personality. Her amber eyes always shone with absolute brilliance and joy, while her smile held a kind softness no one could resist. She was such a pleasant girl, and it didn't take long for me to fall head over heels in love with her.
I finally got up the courage to tell her how I truly felt about 2 years after I met her. We stood in front of the lighthouse as a stared down at my feet and stuttered words of confession spilled from my mouth. Once I was finished, I heard nothing but silence, so I looked up to find tears in Molly's eyes.
What have I done? I thought to myself.
Apologies streamed out of my mouth as I insisted how unprofessional I was being when all of the sudden, she had her arms wrapped around me and her lips on mine. I was utterly stunned. She pulled back and smiled that sweet smile and said to stop apologizing, and that she couldn't tell me how long she had waited for me to say those words.
We were married a week later.
I moved in with her and we were happy from then on. The house was beautiful, but always seemed to have a cold chill in the air. I didn't notice this until later, but once I did, I came up with many logical explanations. I don't believe in anything beyond the Harvest Goddess and what I can see, so one might call me a skeptic.
Occasionally, things would happen around the house. My shoes would end up in a different place than I put them, the sink would stop working or would turn on late at night. Books would fall off the shelves, cabinet doors would open when they were closed, clothes would be strewn about the floor when I got home, but there was always a logical explanation. Always. Many of the explanations I came up with involved drafts, the cat, accidental knock ins, and a forgetful memory.
A year after our marriage, Molly came into my office, sweating and panting, supported by Anissa and Renee. She was clutching her stomach and in terrible pain. I directed the two girls to set her on the bed gently and called for Irene. Irene took one look at her and sent me out. No explanation, but told Renee and Anissa to stay. Hours passed as I paced the lobby and heard the pained screams of my wife in the other room. Occasionally, Renee or Anissa would leave the room to fetch something for Irene, but mostly stayed behind the curtain.
Only when I heard the cry of a baby, Renee came out and told me I could come inside. I came into a scene of my wife lying on the bed, covered in a sheet, holding a small bay with a tuft of black hair. Molly looked at me, tears of joy in her eyes.
"It's our baby," She whispered.
I came closer. The little infant was fast asleep, breathing in and out softly, curled up against his mother. His hands opened and closed, as if reaching for something in a dream. For a moment, I was horrified. How did we not know she was pregnant? How did I not know?
Irene answered as if reading my mind.
"She had a rare type of pregnancy. The baby developed too far down in the uterus for her to become large." Irene gestured toward the baby. "He's so small, though, I don't believe it would have made a difference."
"Let's name him Marcario," Molly spoke, excitement in her eyes.
I could only smile and agree silently. Marcario. Blessed. A perfect name it seemed.
If only we knew how wrong we were.
Years passed and Marcario grew to be a smart young boy. He had spikey black hair and blue eyes, he had his mother's sweet smile and imagination, while gaining my hair and love for herbs. All in all, he was perfect.
One evening, right as I had gone to bed, Molly snoring next to me, I heard a noise. The sound of feet scurrying across the hall, before stopping at my door. The door slowly creaked open, and a small silhouette stepped inside and moved to my bedside.
"Daddy?" Marcario whispered.
I sighed, having been a bit frightened by the noises. "Yes, Marc? What is it?"
I could only see his shadow, but could hear his slightly frightened tone. "There's something in my bedroom."
I smiled to myself. "Oh, buddy, you must have been dreaming. Just go back to sleep."
Marcario just stood there firmly. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"
I remembered when I went through a similar faze. Irene would let me crawl in bed with her when I had nightmares when I was young. Why should Marc be any different?
"Ok, but just tonight."
Marcario scampered up into the bed between Molly and I, and fell asleep quickly.
The next morning, as Marcario headed off to school and Molly prepared for a day's work, I told her of the night before. She chuckled.
"Oh, it was probably just a nightmare. I'm sure he'll be fine tonight," She stated.
With that, I kissed her goodbye, and headed off to work.
The next few nights were no better. Every night, he came out of his room and begged to sleep with us, insisting someone was in his room.
One night, I had enough. I was getting ready for bed, planning a speech to give to my son about how there was nobody in his room and how he was perfectly fine. Molly slept next to me, her soft breathing audible, yet faint. I turned off the lights and fell asleep just as my head hit the pillow.
A few hours later, I woke to nothing. It was till dark, and I began to wonder why I had awoken. I wracked my brains for only a moment before it hit me: Marc had not come in to sleep with us. I felt a bit of satisfaction before the worry set in. I had no idea why I was worried. This was good wasn't it? He had finally grown out of that stage.
Unable to shake the worry, I decided to go check on him. I rose from my bed and stepped into the hall, where I heard whispering. Raspy, faint whispering coming from the end of the hall.
From Marcario's room.
I quickened my pace, yet still creeping down the hall to my son's door. The whispers were louder now, and sounded almost like a chant. I opened the door to the room and froze.
In the corner, staring at me, was a tall, dark silhouette. Its rasping whispers tripled over, and grew louder and louder. My son lay sleeping fitfully in the bed. The shadow approached me, gliding in a slinky manner, very slowly. I could not move, could not scream, and could not run. I was frozen where I stood.
The thing continued approaching until it stopped, mere inches away from me. It had not face, no hands, no skin; it was just simply… there. Its voice changed, sounding like Molly, Marcario, and my own voice were being played over each other, except more raspy and evil.
She's mine.
I could only shake in fear as the thing spoke.
Did you not understand that? She's mine. You took her from me. Her soul was that of the purest and you stole her.
I shivered. Soul? This thing wanted my wife's soul?
Marcario is pure. Marcario is mine.
The thing sang softly, growing louder with each verse
Marcario is pure. Marcario is mine.
Marcario is pure. Marcario is mine.
Marcario is pure! Marcario is mine!
MARCARIO IS PURE! MARCARIOIS MINE!
Red eyes gleamed on the face of the thing and it took a step towards me with each word.
SO
GET
OUT!
And it lunged at me, teeth bared.
I awoke, heart pounding, sweaty, and Molly over me, a concerned look on her face.
"Honey! Are you ok?" She asked worriedly.
I did not hear her. My mind was racing. Marcario. Is Marcario alright?
I stuttered. "Mar-Marcario… Marcario…" I looked up at my wife. "We need to go check on Marcario!"
Molly spoke in a soothing tone. "It's ok. It was just a dream."
I leapt from the bed and raced down to my son's room. Swinging the door open, I fell to my knees. Marcario lay on the ground, a knife in his heart, with a note attached to it, saying:
Marcario is mine.
Molly let out a muffled sob behind me. I crawled over to my son. I had no energy to walk. I silently removed the knife from his chest, and held his lifeless body in my arms. His pale skin even paler, green eyes blank, and black hair spiked everywhere. Molly kneeled down next to me and sobbed over her Marcario. We must have been there for hours. My little boy, my beautiful, little boy, was dead. All because of me. Because I told him to just go to sleep
The police came and so did an exorcist. After a thorough search and a cleaning of the house, they all left, leaving me and my wife to our peace. They told me we would be fine, and nothing would bother us anymore, but as I write this, I can't help but feel that it's going to come for me tonight.
Hello! So, this is this month's chapter. I hope you have nightmares. :) I'm kidding. This is probably my favorite one I've written so far. What about y'all? So, it being the holidays and all, I won't get a story out for the rest of this week or next week, but if your interested you can read some of my other stories or something like that. One more thing. I got a 3DS and Harvest Moon: A New Beginning, and I've been playing that nonstop for the past few hours. It's pretty good, I've got a few problems, but it's still good. Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza, Happy Hanukkah, or Happy Holidays. Whatever you do, be happy with it- Beetle