Night of the Living Dolls
Page 8
Standing on the grass below were Lucy, Mom and Dad. Lucy must’ve gotten them instead of going straight to the bedroom. The three of them looked absolutely panic-stricken. It made me realize how foolish I’d been. I hadn’t considered the impact my actions would have on my family.
“Mom! Dad! Help me!” I shouted.
“Hang on, Zelda!” Mom said. She unfolded something and handed the edges to Dad and Lucy. A large white blanket off Grandma’s bed. They spread out, pulled the blanket taut, and created a safety net to catch me in.
“Jump!” Mom yelled.
I didn’t hesitate. I jumped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I hadn’t considered myself to be afraid of heights before, but three days after I had jumped from the burning school I still felt tense when I thought about the second or two I spent in freefall.
“Zelda? You okay?”
It was Lucy, snapping me out of my daydream. More like daymare.
“What?” I said, confused for a moment as the memory of jumping out the third-floor window switched to my immediate surroundings. We were sitting in Grandma’s family room. My parents, uncles, aunts and cousins were in small groups throughout the house having quiet conversations. I rubbed my eyes and straightened my black dress. “Yes, I’m fine. Just zoned out a little.”
“Still thinking about it?” Lucy asked.
“Every now and again,” I said, an understatement. How could I think of anything else? I imagined I’d be thinking about it for the rest of my life.
Lucy nodded in sympathy. She’d probably remember that day for the rest of her life too, and she’d probably be the only person who would ever fully understand what I — what we — went through. We told Mom and Dad, and they’d believed every word — they’d seen the school, after all, as well as the blue flames that burned it to the ground but left no trace of cinders or ash once the building was gone. But they hadn’t been there with us. They hadn’t spoken with Miss Ashton and they hadn’t been attacked by the dolls. They hadn’t lost a few hours of their lives — I estimated we were in the school for a little less than an hour, but when we finally returned to Grandma’s house the sun was already beginning to set. I should’ve told them what was happening from the start even if they wouldn’t have believed a word. Live and learn, I guess. At least I had lived.
The thought drew my attention back to the casket at the far side of the living room. Grandma had stated in her will that she wanted her funeral to be in her own house. No one had been surprised by that — Grandma loved any opportunity to gather family and friends in her home.
The casket was open. I knew Grandma was inside, but I hadn’t approached it yet. Not because I was afraid of seeing her that way, but because I assumed Lucy probably was.
I stood up slowly. “Well, what do you say? Think you’re ready to go say goodbye to Grandma now?”
She frowned as she stood beside me. “Me? I’ve been wanting to go up since the start. I thought you needed time to prepare yourself.”
I laughed and placed a hand on Lucy’s back. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Dad saw us approach the casket and elbowed Mom. They looked at us with sad smiles. I smiled back.
I rested my hands on the edge of the casket and looked at Grandma. She was wearing one of her favourite dresses, a white one covered in sunflowers. She wore more makeup than usual — I didn’t think she’d like that — but she looked good. Her eyes were closed and her hands were crossed over her belly.
Tears sprang to my eyes, surprising me, as I felt a flush creep up my neck. Once more I thought of square sandwiches and fishing bait and tomatoes and bedtime stories.
“I just want you to know the fire wasn’t your fault, Grandma,” I said. “And sorry I read your journal.”
Lucy laughed in relief and started to cry at the same time. I put an arm around her and she rested her head on my shoulder.
“I love you and I’ll miss you,” she told Grandma.
I thought back to something that had crossed my mind just before I went into the ghost school. “We have our memories, and no one can take those away. As long as we remember Grandma, she’ll always be with us.”
Lucy wiped away her tears and nodded.
We were silent for a moment, sharing time with Grandma and each other.
I thought of a few texts Camryn had sent me earlier in the morning that I hadn’t answered yet.
Sorry about ur grandma
Sorry I was a jerk about ur doll
nbd 2 me if u keep her lol
Maybe I’d tell Camryn one day the real story of what happened to Sadie Sees, but for now it was nice that she’d reached out to make amends.
Thinking of Sadie made me think again of all the dolls melting in the music room and brought a smile to my lips.
But then I saw a twitch of movement out of the corner of my eye that wiped the smile clean off my face.
The movement had come from inside the casket.
It was probably nothing, I thought. It was definitely nothing.
“C’mon,” I said to Lucy, trying to force the smile back as I guided her away from Grandma’s casket. “Let’s go sit down and try to never think of dolls again.”
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joel A. Sutherland is the author of Be a Writing Superstar, numerous volumes of the Haunted Canada series (which received the Silver Birch Award and the Hackmatack Award), Summer’s End (finalist for the Red Maple Award) and Frozen Blood, a horror novel that was nominated for the Bram Stoker Award. His short fiction has appeared in many anthologies and magazines, including Blood Lite II & III and Cemetery Dance magazine, alongside the likes of Stephen King and Neil Gaiman. He has been a juror for the John Spray Mystery Award and the Monica Hughes Award for Science Fiction and Fantasy.
He is a children’s & youth services librarian and appeared as “The Barbarian Librarian” on the Canadian edition of the hit television show Wipeout, making it all the way to the third round and proving that librarians can be just as tough and crazy as anyone else.
Joel lives with his family in southeastern Ontario, where he is always on the lookout for ghosts.
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Sutherland, Joel A., 1980-, author
Night of the living dolls / Joel A. Sutherland ; illustrated by Mark Savona.
(Haunted)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4431-6325-5 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-4431-6326-2 (ebook)
I. Savona, Mark, illustrator II. Title. III. Series: Sutherland, Joel
A., 1980- . Haunted.
PS8637.U845N54 2018 jC813’.6 C2018-901499-7
C2018-901500-4
Photos ©: cover main: Frenta/Dreamstime;
cover smoky background and throughout: Stephanie_Zieber/iStockphoto;
claw used throughout: ra2studio/Shutterstock.
Text copyright © 2018 by Joel A. Sutherland.
Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Scholastic Canada Ltd.
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First e-book edition: September 2018