“Laura? Are you alright, darling?” He reached over again to touch her now that she was fully aware.
He took her hand, bringing it closer to him so he could in turn bring her closer to him. He entwined his fingers with hers and glanced down at their joined hands.
He jerked her hand closer to him so quickly she squeaked in protest.
“What the hell?” He ran his fingers tentatively over the bruising that encircled her wrist, the abrasions that joined it.
She hissed in a breath at the contact but didn’t pull her hand away. She stared at the mark and, remembering her dream, brought her other wrist to join the one he held. The same marks were present there.
She pulled her hand from his and kicked the comforter aside. Her movements were frantic, panicked as she brought her ankles into the light. The abrasions were angrier there, the bruising more prominent. She touched them gingerly.
“Laura?” Andrew’s voice shook as he spoke, but he said nothing more than her name.
Laura ran her hands through her hair. This was not possible. This was not happening. It had been a dream. Just a dream. Dreams couldn’t hurt you. And yet there she was, staring at the marks that she couldn’t explain.
She pulled her hair away from her face and wound it around her hand, using it to ground her. The moment she pulled it aside she heard Andrew’s sharp intake of breath.
“Christ…” He reached out to touch the scratches that covered her upper arms and extended over her chest and across her back. It looked as though fingernails or claws had been raked across her skin. The marks were red and angry looking, standing out against her skin.
“What the hell happened?” He looked from the marks to her, his eyes filled with confusion.
“I – I don’t – I don’t know,” she stammered.
Her eyes darted from the bruises to the scratches. It had just been a dream. This wasn’t happening to her. Not after everything she’d already been through. There was no way this was happening.
“I’m still dreaming,” she muttered, her eyes meeting his, hoping that he would agree. “I must be still dreaming.”
Her voice broke on the last word as she saw him shake his head. She felt the tears well up in her eyes and spill over. She choked on a sob and her hands flew to her mouth.
“It was just a dream. It was only a dream.”
Andrew gathered her close, mindful of the marks that now covered her body. He held her and rocked her as she cried and repeated those words.
“It was just a dream.”
He didn’t know what he was going to do with her. This had never happened before. She had never harmed herself before. It was completely out of character, but Dr Sinclair had warned him that, if her depression got bad enough, it was possible.
He held her and wondered if that was what this was, just a side effect of her mental problem. Perhaps it was her medication.
Right now, all he could do was comfort her. He knew that was really what she needed in this moment. She needed his support and he would give it. But he couldn’t pretend that what he saw didn’t terrify him.
It scared him more than anything he’d ever experienced in his life.
Chapter 5
Presence
* * *
After the nightmare incident, Andrew refused to leave Laura alone in the house. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. He figured it was best if he kept a close eye on her for the a while until the situation became less critical.
Despite her protests over the demand to supervise her, she was glad to have him around. The sense of unease she had felt the previous day had thoroughly settled around her. She did not want to be alone in the building, especially with her limited mobility.
They stayed together that day in the house. Andrew made meals for them. Laura read her book. The day passed peacefully enough. It was almost enough for her to believe that nothing had happened. If it wasn’t for the marks that she could see on herself as a reminder of what was haunting her. She could almost believe it was just her imagination, if it wasn’t for the pain and the bruises.
And that night Laura woke up screaming again. She woke up with more scratches. She woke up with the bruises darker than they had been the night before. She tried to explain it to Andrew. She tried to tell him what had happened in the dream. She tried to make him understand.
He had looked at her in horror as she had regaled him with what she had seen. His eyes had widened and his hands had folded in his lap. Her logical Andrew couldn’t fathom the creation of such a dream within her mind. He couldn’t understand that it wasn’t her doing.
So naturally, he insisted that they call Dr Sinclair. The concern for her was clear in his eyes and Laura, having barely slept the last two nights, couldn’t find the energy to argue with him.
He thought that she was making this up. He thought that she had gone off the deep end. She couldn’t exactly blame him. If it was anyone else, she wasn’t certain that she would have believed him or her either.
“Dr Sinclair said that your medication could cause hallucinations. This could be a perfectly normal side effect.” Andrew held the phone in his hand as though it was a lifeline.
Laura looked at it as though it was already a life sentence to an insane asylum. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t hallucinating. There was no world where nightmares could hurt you. There was something wrong going on. She knew it. But there was no way for her to say it without sounding crazy.
So she just nodded absently. She couldn’t bring herself to even speak an agreement. She was so tired. She was in pain. She was exhausted. But she was not crazy. That was the one thing she was absolutely certain of.
She just sat in her chair at the breakfast nook as Andrew dialled and handed her the telephone. She brought it to her ear, reluctantly, and prepared to listen to someone else doubt her sanity.
She listened to it ring, and ring, and ring. She was about to hang up when she heard the connection click through. She wanted to curse when her doctor actually picked up, but instead she put on a pleasant voice to reply to the greeting. Even though she was tired and sore, that was no reason to be rude.
“Hello, Dr Sinclair, sorry to bother you at home,” Laura began. The cheerfulness in her voice was forced, but it was still there.
“Oh, not to worry. I gave you this number for a reason, dear. What can I do for you?” Dr Sinclair’s voice was genuinely cheerful, though Laura had never found a time when the woman was not happy.
“I’ve been having some odd reactions to the pain meds you put me on.” It wasn’t exactly true, but it was the theory that Andrew had at the moment, so it was what she was going to go with. It was the reason they were calling.
“Oh no, dear. What is the matter?” Dr Sinclair’s voice radiated concern as it drifted through the receiver.
“I’ve had some trouble sleeping, some very strange dreams. I’m wondering if it is a result of the medication.” Laura tapped her fingers idly on knee as she waited for a response.
“Well, I warned you that it was a potential side effect. Though it is odd for it to happen so late after you starting on them.” Dr Sinclair seemed to consider it for a moment. “If this persists I recommend returning to the city so we can pursue an alternative medication. But wait it out. It could just be the change of scenery.”
Laura sighed into the receiver, partly out of exhaustion and partly because of the lack of a real answer. “Thank you for your help, and sorry again for bothering you at home.”
“Think nothing of it, dear. Call me if things get worse.”
Laura listened to the connection break. She set the phone down on the table and ran her hands through her hair.
Andrew looked at her from across the table. “You didn’t ask her about the marks.”
She raised a brow. “I figured these-” She waved her wrists for emphasis, “would be a little difficult to explain over the phone.”
No to mention, she added to herself, I’m sure these have nothing
to do with my meds.
He frowned and looked as though he was going to say something else. He even opened his mouth to speak but his words were drowned out by the resounding sound of every door in the house slamming closed.
Laura jolted in her seat. She would have jumped to her feet if her legs would have supported her. Andrew certainly was on his feet in an instant.
His eyes went to the kitchen door, which was firmly shut. “It was probably the wind.”
She glanced towards the window, which was as firmly shut as the door presently was. He followed her gaze. “The wind?”
“Old houses are draughty.” He gave a half shrug not even certain he believed the words that were coming out of his mouth.
“Mhmm, draughty.” She held up her wrists. “It was clearly a draught that did this.”
“Now, Laura, be reasonable.” He began but stopped at the sound of music. He tilted his head slightly, not positive he’d actually heard it. “Did you turn on the radio?”
She shook her head as the familiar chill ran up her spine.
“Perhaps it was the wind,” she joked but she couldn’t help the unease that was settling in again.
She watched Andrew open the kitchen door, following the music to the living room where it was blasting from the radio. She didn’t get up from her chair. She didn’t want to enter the living room. Not after the other day.
The same dread that had filled her two days ago, that had driven her from the house, consumed her again. There was something not right about this place. There was something unnatural.
Andrew switched the radio off, his eyes furrowed in confusion. He must have just forgotten he’d turned it on. He’d been distracted with wanting Laura to call the doctor and he’d just forgotten. There was a logical answer to this. Electronics didn’t just turn on by themselves.
He turned to leave the room again as the grandfather clock began to chime.
“Odd,” he muttered as he glanced at his wristwatch. It wasn’t even half past yet. But old clocks were finicky. It probably just needed to be wound.
He walked over to it, opening the front glass to access the inner dials. And just as he was about to insert the key to rewind it the radio turned back on.
Then the door slammed closed.
Then the light flickered on.
Andrew dropped the key and took a slow step back from the grandfather clock.
“Draughty house, faulty wiring, old electronics, and forgetfulness.” He listed off the logical reasons for what was happening around him. But even his rational thinking couldn’t keep the fear from crawling its way up his throat.
He backed slowly towards the door, his eyes scanning the room for the source of his fear. The room was empty. The room was normal. So, what was he so afraid of?
Except that the clock resumed its chiming. The radio blasted its music. The lights flickered on and off. And out of his peripheral he noticed the rocking chair by the window begin to rock.
The room was going crazy.
He grasped for the door handle, feeling the cold metal of it underneath his fingertips. He turned it and yanked it hard.
Andrew all but fell into the hallway and at Laura’s feet. He stared up at her for a moment, panic in his eyes, then glanced back into the living room. All was silent and still through the door. It was as though nothing he’d just experienced had ever even happened.
“There was – It was – The lights – And the radio – And the clock.” He stammered through half sentences as he pushed himself to his feet looking ill. “Did you see any of it?”
She shook her head, but the feeling of unease permeated from that room. She reached over and pulled the door firmly closed. “I suggest we stay out of the living room.”
He nodded enthusiastically. His eyes went to her wrists and tracked the marks down her arms. Perhaps she had been telling the truth, he wondered. She’d never been one to lie to him.
And if that was the case, what had he gotten them into?
He glanced back towards the living room. He already felt silly about what had happened in there. It was clearly a result of the house being old. There was nothing more nefarious at work. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to open the door and look again. To test fate, or whatever else was at work here.
“Do you want to go into town? We could drive around, see the sights, and have dinner that someone else had to cook?”
She could hear the undertone of desperation in his voice even if he didn’t plan for it to be there. She knew how he was feeling. He wanted to be out of the house as desperately as she did.
“That sounds like a lovely idea.” She offered him a reassuring smile, because she knew that he wasn’t quite there yet. He hadn’t accepted that there was something wrong with this house. But she knew that it wouldn’t take him long.
She just hoped that, by then, it wouldn’t be too late.
As they left the house, all smiles and small talk, the rocking chair in the library began to rock again, slow and steady. And cold laughter filled the empty room.
Chapter 6
Violence
* * *
Laura fell into a dreamless sleep for the first time in two days. After an afternoon and evening filled with adventuring through town, not to mention the wonderful meal they had, she was exhausted. Despite her unease about spending another night in the house, it was too late to leave.
So, she settled back into the bed with Andrew and hoped that when she closed her eyes she would not find herself back in that place. Instead, when she closed her eyes she found nothing. The endless emptiness of a dreamless sleep.
She was not sure how long she stayed there, floating in nothingness, until the voice pulled her out. Or rather, it called her out.
“Laura…”
Where had she heard that voice before? It sounded vaguely familiar.
“Laura…”
She searched the darkness in her subconscious for the source of it. She knew this voice.
“You know what they did to me.”
She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to find the voice. She wanted the voice to go away now.
“You know how I died.”
She ground her teeth together and fought her way from the darkness. If she woke up, then the voice would be gone. All she had to do was wake up.
She pried her eyes open, abandoning the darkness of the dream she’d been in. Her heart raced, she was short of breath, but she was awake. That was all that mattered. It had only been a dream.
“Now you must die.”
Laura jolted at the voice, coming not from the darkness in her mind, but from just to her right.
She didn’t want to look over. She wanted to close her eyes now as much as she’d wanted to open them moments before. If she didn’t look over, then perhaps she was still dreaming. If she didn’t look over, then perhaps nothing was there.
Her head turned of its own volition. She fought against the motion, but she felt it pulling to the side towards the voice.
“You will look at me!”
Her eyes widened as they fell on the somehow familiar red orbs.
“I want to see the light fade from those eyes as you die.”
Laura screamed, but it was cut off before she could barely make a sound. Cold hands gripped her throat, talon-like nails pressing into the back of her neck as the pressure mounted, cutting off her breath. She struggled to make a sound, letting out a gurgled noise before the squeezing increased. She thrashed around in the bed, hoping she could wake Andrew up at least. She felt her eyes begin to bulge.
All the while she stared up into the red eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. The face was so close to hers now, they were practically nose to nose. Her skin was grey, pulled taunt across her bony face. Her hair fell in dishevelled tendrils. She smelled of damp dirt and the unmistakable odour of death. The scent was consuming, revolting. It made Laura almost glad that she couldn’t breathe.
And when she smiled, her teeth were fil
ed down to sharp points. Her tongue forked down the middle like a snake’s. It flicked out, running along Laura’s cheek, tasting her skin as the hands clenched tighter around her throat.
Laura struggled against the thing on top of her. It would have been wrong to call it a woman. Maybe once that was what it had been, but now there were hardly words for the creature. She thrashed under the weight of it, but she could feel the energy slowly but surely leaching out of her body. Her panicked movements were now feeble at best.
Just as she felt the dark creeping across her eyes, just as she felt herself being pulled into unconsciousness, the bedside light flicked on. The room was flooded with a sudden warm glow.
And the creature was gone.
Laura launched herself into a sitting position, gasping for air, gulping in all the oxygen she could in order to fill her empty lungs to capacity. They screamed for it. Her throat throbbed from the pain of the hands that had crushed it. Her eyes watered, the sharp sting momentarily blinding her. And her cheek was still damp from where the thing’s tongue had touched.
She choked on a sob when she was certain that she could breathe, when she was certain that she was capable of making noise. She clenched her hands in her lap because she wanted nothing more than to touch her neck, to assure herself that it was real, that the hands were truly gone. But she was too terrified to know.
She jolted at the feeling of Andrew’s hand on her shoulder. She looked over at him with hollow, damp eyes filled with horror.
His face wore the same confused expression as it had the night before. Andrew, her sweet husband. Her naïve, logical husband. How could she make him understand?
He had not seen it. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he hadn’t witness what she just had. There was concern there, but there was no understanding. How could she make him understand what she had just seen without him assuming that she had lost her mind? Hell, she was truly beginning to wonder if she had.
Haunted Happenings Page 3
