Middle: Chapter One:
10 months later:
Emily sat alone in her bedroom, sitting by the window in the rocking chair. A new rocking chair – the previous one had to go! Too many splinters in the wood, and too many bad memories. Despite it being a bleak February day, the weather was surprisingly cheerful – the sun seeping in through the curtains, a slight warm breeze in the air, and the smell of fresh flowers by the window sill. But none of it affected Emily. She was sad, depressed, and felt like she would never recover from it. Not without a miracle.
Victor watched from the doorway of their bedroom, a tray in his hands. Upon it sat a plate of steaming hot food, made freshly from the kitchens, and a glass of water standing proud beside the cutlery and napkin. Everyone knew what day it was, and everyone tried to think positively. So they made Emily's favourite dishes, they kept the house spotless, the flowers fresh in the vases, all of the curtains open to invite the sunshine in, and the pantry stocked with the more favoured foods, should Emily be up in the night, looking for a way to drown her sorrows without alcohol. She could do with the nourishment, she has lost a lot of weight in her time of sorrow, and was looking frail and delicate, as if she would break at any moment and shatter in to a million pieces – like a china doll.
It was now 2 o clock in the afternoon, and Emily hadn't left her chair since 7 that morning. Victor had woken to see her there in her nightclothes, her hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, and her eyes were red and swollen from excessive crying. He knew there was nothing he could do except share her heartache and show it with hugs, kisses and holding hands.
He walked towards her and set the tray down by the table behind her; in the hope she would move and eat something.
"Alfred made your favourite" he said, hoping the aroma of the food would entice her.
"I'm not hungry" she said, silently and emotionless.
"At least have a potato. Or a bite of the chicken" he suggested. Emily didn't move.
"Don't waste your time, darling. Apologise to Alfred for me. He knows how much I enjoy his cooking…but I can't stomach anything. Not today."
Victor knelt down beside her, placing his hand on top of hers and rubbing his thumb gently over her knuckles, the other hand stroking her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the warm touch on her face. As she did, she started crying. Tears poured down her face as she leaned over and embraced Victors open arms. He wrapped them tightly around her, comforting her once more. It didn't help that the baby cot was right next to her, within his eye line, reminding them both of why they were so heartbroken.
"I miss him" she wept.
"I know. I miss him too" Victor said, kissing her cheek.
"His first birthday…and he's not here. No presents, no party…nothing!" Emily cried, pulling away from Victor.
"Are you sure he's not down there?" she asked, urgency in her voice.
Victor knew what she meant. The morning after Christopher had disappeared, Emily suggested 'somehow' getting in touch with the Land of the Dead. To see if their baby boy had died and therefore turned up. The bizarre suggestion had somehow worked. It was as easy as making a phone call.
Victor had walked downstairs to the only phone in the house and picked up the receiver.
But it was pure surprise that he heard a voice on the other end of the phone, before he had the chance to press any buttons.
"I'm sorry, he's not here." The voice of Elder Gutknecht spoke at the end of the phone, giving out what little information he had.
"Elder Gutknecht? How did you…?" Victor asked.
"I've been watching you. Just me, from the tower. To keep an eye on things, and make sure you are both safe."
"We're not exactly jumping for joy, at the moment."
"I know, and I am sorry to hear. But last night, when I saw you return from your party, I sent out a search party for him. Young Christopher could've ended up anywhere in this land, but he was nowhere to be seen. I'm sorry."
"Oh…well, thank you for trying…but…can you keep checking?" Victor asked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Keep checking? In case he turns up. For Emily's peace of mind. Please."
So onwards from then, every Saturday lunchtime for the past 10 months, the wise old skeleton sent volunteer search parties across the land in the hope of finding Christopher. Every week, the same faces and some new ones would combine forces in search for the baby. They searched every house, every alleyway and every shop. But no such joy. Elder Gutknecht then sent a message back to Victor, via messenger bird. One of his trusty ravens, with a piece of parchment tied to its ankle. And each time, it said the same: "He's not here. Sorry"
Which gave Emily hope. He was alive!
"They've checked dozens of times. There's no sign of him" Victor sighed.
"Then where is he?" Emily cried, louder than expected, clutching on to her husband's hands. "If he's not dead, he must be alive. He didn't crawl out of his cot by himself, and then somehow get down the stairs and out of the front door! You heard what Patricia said; 'a dark misty spirit snatched him away'. What kind of force could do that, Victor?"
Meanwhile:
"Stop crying!" Lord Barkis yelled, reaching the end of his patience. Christopher had been crying non-stop for the past two hours, and showed no signs of being quiet soon. He didn't know what to do to make it stop!
"This seemed a lot easier in my head!" he sighed to himself. Dead or alive, he couldn't risk being seen near the child. The search parties had often stopped by his location each week, but luckily each time, Christopher was asleep or silent.
But today was a Saturday! And once again, the search party would continue in the next few hours. And with this crying, he was sure he'd be discovered. He couldn't risk that!
A year ago, the plan had seemed flawless. Travel upstairs, steal the child, take him downstairs and kill him – but now?! Now he was stuck with a living child, still being searched for, and he wasn't any closer to killing him than he had been 10 months ago. If he had killed him, the revenge would have been taken and the Van Dorts would forever be mourning their loss. He would be happy once more, after so long since his death!
But no! The plan was un-successful! Yes, he had stolen the child and yes, he had heard of the torment that Victor and Emily were going through – which pleased him a lot. But the idea to murder young Christopher completely back-fired.
As soon as he had returned downstairs to his hide-away, Christopher had fallen asleep and was looking so peaceful in his blanket – and he couldn't kill him. Something long dead inside of Lord Barkis had awoken, and he had felt a stab of…love. Upon seeing the sleeping child…who could've been his. Every time he looked at the child, he saw Emily's distinct features on his face. He had his mother's nose and her beautiful smile. If he hadn't committed the act of taking Emily's life, they would've married properly and started a family. Ugh, such vile thoughts! He was getting distracted! He should kill the boy before the search party arrived.
But a voice in his head reminded him that he couldn't, that he wasn't capable of taking an innocent life. Rubbish, he thought! He'd done it before, he can do it again!
"Just be quiet" he yelled once more at Christopher, seeing his toy in the corner of his eye on the floor. The only toy he had. A soft white dog toy, with a little red collar. That got scooped up with him when he was abducted, it wasn't noticed until they returned. And judging by his behaviour, it was Christopher's favourite.
"Here!" Barkis grabbed the toy and threw it at Christopher, which landed next to him on the bed. He stormed away to the window, looking out to see if the search party participants were nearing. Thankfully, no. And Christopher had taken his toy and was slowly drying his eyes.
"Oh, thank heavens!" he sighed heavily, listening to Christopher's squeaks of delight as he played with his toy.
Barkis knew there wasn't much he could do now. What options did he have left? Very little. He could either kill Christopher and be stuck with him as a baby for the rest of his afterlife, or…keep him alive, and watch him grow up…without his mother or father…hmm.
An idea stuck with him. Who knows, keeping him alive might be the best option. To turn him against his own parents.
He could see it all. Bring Christopher up as his own son, tell him that his 'mother' died at the hands of the Van Dorts, and shortly after, they murdered him, leaving him with a blue face forever. But with luck and perfect timing, he saved Christopher's life before they could take him too, and now they lived downstairs from the living world, for protection.
Years in the future, Christopher will have a head filled with lies and false beliefs. And he would then return to the Land of the Living, seeking revenge for his mother and father….on his own mother and father! It was a perfect plan! One that would take time, though. But Barkis knew that all good things came to those who waited.
"How perfect!" Barkis thought, smiling to himself and looking down at the innocent Christopher, thinking of what he would eventually become.