by Carrie King
Feeling uneasy, she placed the doll on the bench top. David would have to have a look at it tonight and see if he could fix it. And she would have to sit Louise down and talk to her seriously about being so destructive with her toys.
Cassie moved around the kitchen tidying up and putting away the breakfast foods. She hummed a little as she packed the dishes into the dishwasher. Then she switched on the electric kettle to make herself another cup of coffee. Suddenly she felt anxious. The day stretched out ahead of her, long and lonely. It felt strange to be here by herself without the girls and David.
Sunlight shone through the kitchen windows and dust motes danced in the beams. It was going to be a nice day. Perhaps she could begin to work on the garden. There were the remains of beans and pumpkins among the overgrown weeds, and she and David had already spoken about digging it over and planting a new vegetable patch.
Before she could decide, the whispering sound that had puzzled her so often, started once more. Feeling her skin crawl she looked around, determined to find the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from the living room. Cautiously, not making any noise that might warn of her approach, she tiptoed out of the kitchen and towards the other room.
The sound grew louder.
Curiosity driving her on, she stood in the doorway and looked around it. Everything was as it should be—the couch was set to one side. The armchairs, their cushions in disarray from an earlier play fight, stood sentinel beside the fireplace. The room looked so normal except for that infernal sound. What was it? What were they saying? Cassie strained to hear and just when she thought she had it...
The whispering stopped as abruptly as it had started.
Cassie walked over to plump up the cushions and set them back in their rightful places. She glanced up at the picture and then she looked again. Something was different. She walked closer and stood, her arms folded, as she stared up at the picture, trying to determine what it was that had changed.
The monk still stooped over his work in the garden; the pump which David had pointed out was in the bottom of the painting; and the sycamore trees lined the spot behind the garden. But there was something …
She leaned even closer. There. In the painted darkness between two of the trees she could see something, a figure or a face. She squinted her eyes. What was it? A young girl?
The sound of the doorbell ringing, startled her.
Whirling around, her heart in her mouth, she stared out to the entrance way. Who was at the door? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Smoothing her hands through her hair, she walked out to open the door.
“Hello?” Cassie smiled at the woman who was standing on the step. She was middle-aged and wearing sensible shoes and thick stockings. Her tweed skirt reached below her knees and she wore a lumpy, hand-knitted cardigan. Her face was free of makeup and was dominated by an unattractive pair of thick, dark-rimmed glasses. Her graying hair was pushed back under the edge of a nun’s coif and wimple.
“Hello, dear. I’m Sister Mary. I live at the nunnery a few miles from here. I wanted to welcome you to Briar Park.” She thrust her small hand forward, and Cassie could see she was holding a jam jar filled with a bright orange and yellow substance. Marmalade.
“Oh, thank you. That is very kind of you.” Cassie beamed at the woman as she took the offering. The glass of the jar felt slightly sticky in her hand.
“It’s nothing at all. I just wanted to give you a small welcoming gift. How are you settling in? We were all so pleased to hear that a nice young family had bought the house. It has stood vacant for far too long.”
“We are settling in very well, thank you. Do you want to come in, I can offer you a coffee or a tea?” Cassie stood back.
“No, no.” Sister Mary shook her head quickly. “I don’t want to hold you up at all. I was just being neighborly.” She hesitated, giving Cassie a strange look. “And everything is all right with the house?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I expect I’m going to find it very quiet here now that my husband has returned to work and our daughters have started at the local school, but I’m sure the gardens and grounds will keep me busy.”
“Yes …” Sister Mary looked as though she was about to say something else, then she shut her mouth, her thin lips pressed tightly together.
“Well, thank you again,” said Cassie brightly, nodding at the jar of marmalade.
“We’re close by if you need us,” the nun said quickly. She turned away. “May God be with you, dear.” Her words hung in the air.
“Thank you.” Cassie walked out onto the step and watched the rapidly retreating figure. Sister Mary was nearly at the end of the driveway already. Cassie turned to walk back inside the house and frowned at a wisp of yellow smoke, it was gone before she could focus on it. Had she imagined it…?
She turned back and looked at the driveway again. Sister Mary was nowhere to be seen, but there it was... a billowing mass of yellow mist hovering at the end of the small track. She blinked and looked again. As she watched, the yellow fog undulated and spun in the air for several moments before dissolving, leaving no trace that it had ever existed.
A whispering noise teased around her head. Cassie turned but couldn’t catch ahold of where it came from and then it was gone. The prickle of unease she’d felt earlier returned. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear the uncomfortable feeling, Cassie walked back inside and shut the door behind her.
Chapter 19
Cassie placed the jar of marmalade on the bench. She looked around, suddenly feeling at a loose end. The house was so empty without her family here.
For a few moments she let the desolation take over and then she picked herself up. Of course, there was always housework to be done, starting with the bedrooms and upstairs bathroom, and there was always the dust to clear away. Cassie looked at the benchtop in exasperation. Already a fine layer of the yellow dust was sprinkled over the surface. Where was it coming from? She glanced up and frowned. A large stain was spread over the ceiling. She hadn’t noticed it before—had it always been there?
The whispering noise started again. Cassie turned her head, listening. What was that noise? She walked out of the kitchen and down the corridor towards the back door. She stopped outside the door to the basement and placed her hand on the handle. Was it coming from down there? She waited for a moment, all senses alert. Heart pounding, she pushed down on the handle and began to open the door, pushing it inwards.
A sudden flurry of movement down the hallway, behind her, caught her eye and she turned. Quickly, she ran back down the corridor towards the front door. The whispering noise intensified, wrapping itself around her. Pushing on her senses, surrounding her with sound just too low for her to make out.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Cassie called out to the empty house, and then she spun around.
The whispering was now louder behind her. Cautiously, she walked into the living room. A beam of sunlight lay across the back of the couch. The cerise rug she loved so much sat solidly in the middle of the room, a splash of color against the wooden floorboards. Slowly, she turned to the fireplace and raised her eyes to the painting on the wall above the mantle.
A sudden feeling of peace washed over her. One step at a time, she moved towards the fireplace and stood with her toes pressed to the hearth, staring at the picture.
“Cassie.” The word was both an entreaty and a caress. It seemed to be coming from inside the frame, inviting and warm.
“Run! Run while you still can!” Cassie whirled around at the sound of a woman’s voice.
A young woman dressed in a nun’s habit stood in the doorway. Long blonde hair curled from under her wimple and her cheeks were youthful and plump. A haunting sadness and deep despair lay within her eyes. She reached her arms out towards Cassie before she shimmered and faded from sight.
“Cassie.” Her name was called again, a male voice this time. As soft as a lover’s whisper. Cassie turned back to the painting. She felt an irresi
stible urge to move even closer to the scene, to be in that peace.
“Cassie.” The voice stroked and enticed her. “Come close, Cassie. Come close.”
Cassie was aware of nothing else but the overwhelming need to be pulled into the voice. It lulled her, as warm as the sunshine and embraced her with a deep and welcoming love. She reached up a hand to gently touch the painting.
“Cassie, do you want this? Do you want this with all your heart?”
Her mouth opened of its accord. She could not tear her eyes away from the scene in the picture. A feeling of utter peace surrounded and pulled at her. “Yes,” she whispered.
Cassie blinked and gasped as a sudden cold chill wrapped itself around her. An evil cackle pierced the air. Her name was uttered again, but this time it was jagged and hard.
“Cassie!” The word was shrieked into her ear so loudly that she thought her eardrum had burst. Crying out in pain, she sank dizzily to the floor.
Cassie opened her eyes. She was lying on the grass by the garden. The smell of decaying leaves and wet earth curled around her nostrils. She sat up slowly and looked around. How had she come to be outside?
She gave a start as she saw someone walking towards her. Hastily, she scrambled to her feet, brushing herself off.
“Hello?”
Cassie looked inquiringly at the man who now stood in front of her. He was dressed in an old-fashioned monk’s gown and his expression was serious. In one hand, he held a gardening fork. He looked at her, but she had the impression that he didn’t see her. His gaze lifted, and he stared over her head. She turned to follow his stare. He was looking at something in the woods behind her. She turned back to the man.
“Can I help you? This is private property.”
The monk slowly turned his head back and fixed his eyes on her. This time she saw something in the depth of his stare. Something bad. Involuntarily, she took a step backwards.
“Perhaps you should leave.” Her voice sounded unsteady and shaky to her ears and the monk took no notice.
As she watched, a wide plume of yellow mist rose up behind the man and swirled in the air around him.
“My husband will be back very soon. He was only dropping the children off at school and then he was coming back,” Cassie stammered. She glanced towards the driveway and frowned. Her own car, which should have been standing where she’d parked it, was gone. She whipped her head around and looked back at the house. Something was different. The paint on the exterior was a different color, and the additional wing was no longer there.
What is going on?
Cassie looked at the monk. He hadn’t moved, and was still staring at her with those cold and inhuman eyes.
“I’m going inside the house,” she said and took a determined step forward.
“Cassie!” Her name was screamed at her again and she gasped.
Terror overtook her and she started to run towards the house. Her feet sank into the grass and her legs felt heavy. Something touched her ankle and she was falling, hands outstretched to save herself. She hit the ground heavily, the wind momentarily knocked from her body.
Footsteps were soft on the grass behind her. The monk?
Before she could turn to look, the garden fork he had been holding was plunged into the ground by her head.
A scream was torn from her and she pulled back as the sharp prongs narrowly missed her head. Rolling over she scooted back, trying to put some distance between herself and the man.
An evil laugh spun through the air like thunder before a storm and the sky darkened. Cassie pushed herself to her feet, breathing heavily. She had to get inside and lock the doors. She had to get away from this madman. And then she would call the police. She took another step and her foot slipped on the grass. She righted herself, saving herself from falling, and rushed forward, her forehead hit something in front of her.
Cassie, stunned, tried to walk forward again, but it was no use. Something was standing between her and the house. Something she couldn’t see. She put her hands up into the air in front of her and felt a smooth, cold substance. Panic made her hands skitter rapidly over its surface, but whatever it was it wouldn’t budge. Heart pounding, breath so fast she was almost hyperventilating she looked over her shoulder.
The monk was calmly watching her.
She turned again, running a short distance before once trying again to move forward. The unseen wall was still in front of her. A cold yellow mist descended on her, covering her eyes. She coughed and waved her hands in front of her face, trying to clear the air. The mist stung her cheeks and filled her nostrils with the scent of death. It burned her lungs but then it was gone as quickly as it came. She could see with unmistakable clarity.
Cassie stared in horror out of the picture and into her own living room.
What? How can this be?
She was trapped. Trapped in the picture!
The cackling grew louder, whipping through the air above her head.
Utterly disbelieving of the nightmare she now found herself in, her only thought now was survival. The monk was not the peaceful persona she had stared at for so many hours. He was something evil, something bad and she had to get away from him.
Turning, she ran past the monk as fast as she could towards the relative safety of the sycamore trees behind her.
Once she rushed beneath their welcoming boughs she turned.
The monk now stood as still as a statue. Exactly as she had seen him when she stared into the painting.
This had to be a dream, but still she hid amongst the trees.
Chapter 20
David came through the door, swinging his daughters’ flower-decorated school bags from one hand. The girls traipsed in the door behind him, bickering gently between themselves.
“Honey? We’re home.”
He walked into the kitchen, dropping Abigail and Louise’s bags on the kitchen table. They made a hollow thunk and the room felt empty and cold. Glancing around he noticed a jar of marmalade on the bench.
“Honey?” he raised his voice a little.
Louise and Abigail ran up the stairs in a clatter of small shoes upon wood. He could hear them now in their room, arguing over who would play with which toy.
“Cassie?”
David felt irrationally annoyed at the non-appearance of his wife. Pushing the feeling away he peered out the kitchen window at the garden, expecting to see her there... but the backyard was empty.
Lifting the kettle he filled it with water before placing it on the stovetop, then walked out of the kitchen towards the back door. It would take him a few minutes to cut some kindling for the woodstove, then he could make a hot drink. Cassie couldn’t be far away, her car was still parked in the driveway. It was exactly where it had stood when he and the girls had left this morning. Perhaps she’d gone for a walk and lost track of time.
Outside, David picked up a small log and bent over the stump he used to split the wood. This would be perfect. He grabbed the smaller hatchet and raised it when he was startled by a piercing shriek.
Fear loosened his fingers and the hatchet dropped to the grass at his feet. Heart pounding, he ran inside.
“Louise! Abigail! What is it?”
The scream had clearly come from one of his daughters, but he was unable to determine which one. Following the sound of loud sobbing, he ran to the kitchen.
“Look!” Louise was standing by the bench, holding Lillian out at arm’s length.
From where he stood, David could clearly see that the doll’s head was hanging from a thread of plastic. Its wide eyes stared up at the ceiling as its head swung gently from its body. The creepy looking doll was bad enough normally but this gave a distorted and uncomfortable image.
Louise’s lip trembled. “Someone hurt Lillian.”
David felt the same pinch of irritation he’d felt earlier. Where was Cassie? She was better at dealing with these kinds of things than he was.
“It’s okay,” he managed as he reached out an
d took the doll from the little girl. With the doll in his hand he inspected the damage. “I might be able to fix her. Maybe I can glue her head back on.” He gave Louise his best grin but her face stayed grim and hurt. “Lillian will need to wear a scarf to hide the mark on her neck.” The irritation was back. “How did this happen, Louise?”
Tears welled up in Louise’s eyes. “The bad man hurt her.”
David’s irritation threatened to bubble over and yet he never got angry with the children, what was wrong with him?
“Don’t make up stories, Louise. I will fix Lillian soon, but you won’t be able to play with her tonight. I will need to glue her neck and then she will have to lie on the bench until the glue is dry. You won’t be able to touch her until it is set.” He put the doll on the bench. “Is Mommy upstairs?”
Louise shook her head silently. She did not take her eyes off her doll.
“Go and get Abigail. You can sit at the table and have some cookies and milk. Daddy is just going to finish chopping the wood for the stove. I’m sure mommy will be back soon.”
Ignoring Louise he turned and walked back out of the kitchen. Where was Cassie? She’d known what time to expect them home, and after his first day back at work he’d been looking forward to talking to his wife. To destressing after a long day. Picking up the hatchet, he began chopping the wood, hitting the logs slightly harder than was necessary.
By the time the girls had finished their snack and the fire was burning brightly in the grate, David was no longer feeling irritated. Now he was feeling a little worried. He glanced at the clock on the wall, 5:15, and it was beginning to grow darker outside as the early autumn evening descended on them.
“Daddy? Can you fix Lillian? I want to play with her.” Louise’s voice was plaintive.
David pushed himself away from the table. “I told you, you won’t be able to play with her tonight. I have to operate and she will need to recuperate.”
