She was standing, smiling, staring right at him. A cold feeling slid down his spine, an icy sensation tingled his flesh. He realised that was not just his insides inspiring that feeling, it was coming directly onto his skin. Something cold and liquid was streaming down the slope of his back. He knew he had to look up but he really didn't want to.
In his head he had worked up multiple horrifying visions, pictures of dead bodies hanging from the ceiling. But against all his better judgement his eyes left the fresh looking doll, free of her bag and dirty entrails, and trailed up the wall to identify the location of the leak. His eyes and anxiety both building, one in physical form and the other was the growing feeling of jitters. His eyes absorbed the smooth walls, the shelves cluttered with books and small toys, up to the white skirting board and skimmed across the smooth plaster. Before he had even reached the perpetrator of the wetness, red stabbed his peripheral vision like a rampant murderer. Blood.
Blood was what instantly popped in his tiny infant skull, but then the more distressing question was, what was bleeding? He could not see any physical object, just redness painting the ceiling and wall, little streaks tinkling downwards in small lines, as if each were racing against one another to reach the floor. Then he saw the end result, the answer to the equation, the object that had sprung the pipe leak in his mind, and it was far more mortifying than any one object. It was a message 'SIE MACHEN FEHLER'. To most people this would mean nothing, a foreign language, or even a bored doodling. But Declan knew better. School's language department had taught him some German, not a great deal, but enough to know what that phrase meant in English.
'YOU MAKE MISTAKE'.
Chapter 6
A knock rapped at Emily's front door.
“Could you get that please darling?” Elizabeth politely asked her daughter.
Emily skipped through the living room and into the long hallway heading for the door. Pictures were hung in golden frames on the smooth white wall, and the freshly varnished wooden floor sparkled in the daylight. Emily swung on the end of the stair's bannister even though her mother had forbidden her to do so due to an accident. Emily had insisted she would be more careful in future, but Elizabeth's decision was like a country's landmark, would not be budged due to nagging and begging. So instead she chose to swing around it when no one was looking. It was a long wooden pole with an orb on top that Emily had been fascinated with ever since she was a toddler taking her first steps. She could see a woman's frame through the glass part of the front door, and due to the apron Emily knew instantly who it was, Deirdra. She instantly became excited, assuming Declan would be with her. As soon as Emily let her in, the aroma of delicious desserts wafted through the threshold, food that her parents did not really allow her to eat, not as often as Emily would have liked anyway. Emily could eat buns and pastries until her stomach exploded. But she was displeased to see Declan wasn't accompanying Deirdra.
“Hi sweetie, are your parents home?” Deirdra asked with a look of urgency.
“Follow me,” Emily said and continued skipping through the home.
No matter how many times Deirdra entered their home it still impressed her every time. The shiny surfaces, exquisite antiques that no doubt cost more than her entire home, golden chandeliers glistening like small incarnations of the sun, and their long hallway full of rooms of wonder and fantasy. Deirdra dreamed of living in a place like this. Heck, she would kill to live in a place half this size just for one year. Just to have a taste of luxury for twelve months would be enough, but to go back to her current situation would be less than appealing, so she figured it best she try not to dally in such wishes.
“Deirdra how nice to see you, you look a little out of sorts, are you okay?” Elizabeth said with a serious tone as Emily brought Deirdra into the huge living room where Elizabeth was seated on a large sofa with her husband.
“Could we talk in private?” Deirdra asked awkwardly.
“Of course, Emily, go play in your room, please, while we have a grown up chat,” she ordered, shooing her away.
Ugh! Emily shrugged and exhaled with a mild temper, and subtly stormed off.
“So what is wrong?” Paul prodded, he lifted his face up from his laptop, no doubt he was working from home. So productive. No wonder they were so wealthy, Deirdra thought.
“It's about Rose, the doll,” Deirdra began her tale.
Minutes later, shock and disbelief had been carved into the faces of Elizabeth and Paul. Their usually perfect and fresh complexions were tainted with uncertainty and nervousness.
“I don't know what to tell you to be honest, are you sure you are getting enough sleep Deirdra?” Elizabeth gently asked, hoping not to anger or patronise her.
“Yes, I feel fine, and I know this does sound insane, but all these happenings are real, I promise, my sanity is completely intact.”
“What do you want us to do? What can we do to help? Do you want us to take the doll back?” Elizabeth suggested.
“Well that had been my intention, I put the doll in my car this morning before work, but she wasn't there when I checked after work.” Deirdra scratched her forehead.
There was an awkward pause that was not well suited to the splendidness of the surroundings, a place where tea parties often ensued with the richest in the country, and this tumble-weed moment was not welcome.
“I was hoping you could tell me all you know about Rose.”
“I don't know much really,” Elizabeth started to explain, “I know my mother had the doll during the holocaust and when she was in Germany living with my grandfather Augustus, my grandmother died very young, shortly after the birth of my mother from what I was told. I did some research and during the holocaust there was a report of my mother being trapped under rubble and somehow surviving, there were photos of her as a little girl in a newspaper. Two weeks after this my grandfather Augustus died, reports said it was due to the chaos going on around him, and almost losing his daughter.....and the death of my grandmother,” Elizabeth trailed off, liquid glazing her eyes.
“Oh I am so sorry Elizabeth, I didn't mean to...”
“It's fine, anything else you want to know?” Elizabeth sounded open for questions but touched with a stroke of impatience, wanting to move this conversation along to a more pleasant subject.
“No that is fine,” Deirdra still had a scroll full of questions stored in her head, but her senses were screaming at her to leave well alone for now, so she bowed down and obeyed.
Deirdra couldn't shake the feeling that Elizabeth was holding something back, as if the reason for wanting to skip this chat was not just upsetting memories, but as she knew something much, much, worse. So Deirdra let it go, for now.
“Anyway I really should get back home before Declan gets home from school, thank you so much,” Deirdra stood.
“Oh is that it? That was a short visit. You will have to bring Declan again and soon, Emily has been going on and on about when he is next coming round,” she laughed, also standing.
“Sorry, I have just been busy with work, and Declan has had a lot of school work to do and well, David, you know.....”
“Oh no, it is fine, we understand, we just miss you both, that's all, and of course David,” Elizabeth politely added David to the list, but it was obvious over the past couple of years, since they had become aware of his laziness, and attitude, their distaste for him was growing.
They followed her out and said to come by any time, and that they would be more than willing to take the doll back and keep it out of Emily's sight as to not upset or offend her kind gesture to Declan. But for now Deirdra wanted to study it, if she could even find it, as its whereabouts were still unknown.
***
For the first time in his life Declan dared to shout, “DAD! HELP ME.”
Moments later he heard footsteps hammering the stairs, followed by a pounding on the door.
“Open the door!” he yelled, handle thrashing.
Declan jumped and leapt to t
he door, unlocking it and letting David barge in.
“What the fuck is wrong?” David appeared out of breath and his eyes showed that he was still drunk and yet to experience his daily hangover, eyelids droopy and speech slurred.
“She is under the bed, mum hid her, she shouldn't be there I..... It's ju.....” Declan started sobbing frantically.
“Alright shut up you're giving me a headache, I'll just break the bitch,” he said with annoyance now in his voice.
Declan went to say 'no' but nothing left his mouth, his face and body were paralysed in shock.
David crept down, grabbed the doll and stood with her, staring hatefully into her painted eyes.
“Now will you just fuck off,” David screamed at Rose then lifted her high above his head and brought her down with incredible force and let her free from his hold.
The doll fell to the floor fast, the push of David had driven the journey much faster than had he just simply dropped her and let gravity take hold. Her hair scooped up behind the small porcelain head, the bottom of the dress billowed behind her petite legs, and her eyes appeared to look at Declan for a micro-second. She projected a feeling of animosity, and Declan knew that this wasn't over, her physical form being shattered was irrelevant, she would now haunt him with a much stronger will, as vengeance was embedded far inside her heart. She will be back, he thought, but prayed he was wrong.
Then a second later her entire body shattered into a thousand pieces, scratching the wooden floor with their sharp edges and scattering across Declan's bedroom floor. The crash slapped their ear drums with what could be compared to the sound of a plant pot breaking. After her collision with the ground everything appeared to transform into slow motion. Her pottery body breaking into chunks and imploding outwards into the air, the noise scratching their aural senses, and the inner chaos that Declan's heart created. His tiny muscle worked overtime, tapping his ribcage and beating at his wrists and temples.
“And the bitch is gone, now shut the fuck up I am trying to sleep downstairs,” he hissed.
David then left the room and travelled to the alcohol-stained upholstery of the living room.
Declan stared in complete dismay, a small fraction of his self felt guilty at this expensive doll that had been generously donated by his best friend, being broken so easily and cavalierly by a drunken lout. But guilt was nothing compared to the percentage of terror that eroded his innards. Breaking this doll was sure to incur the wrath of Rose at such a huge expression of disrespect. Then the front door swung open, startling Declan. He moved cautiously to the top of the stairs and peered down to see his mother in her work clothes.
“MUM!” Declan shouted and raced to embrace her.
“Calm down, what's wrong?” Deirdra asked as he fell into her hug. She immediately began caressing her son's back to settle him.
Declan went on to explain everything, from Rose appearing under his bed, to David rushing up and breaking the doll. Deirdra promised that it would now be over, the body had been broken, and she would not come back and haunt him anymore. But that was not how she truly felt. Judging by the horrifying fact that Rose had gotten from Deirdra's car to Declan's room, unaccompanied, only reinforced her beliefs that something was very wrong with this toy. For all she knew breaking the doll would destroy her once and for all, but a part of her that refused to shut up, told her it wasn't over. This wasn't the end of their anguish. To expel this doll it would take a great deal more effort than simply smashing its physical presence. But regardless, Deirdra stayed hopeful and tried to get on with her life. As did Declan for that matter.
Soon enough the weekend rolled around, and surprisingly to Declan and Deirdra, there had been no problems, Rose had kept quiet and stayed dissembled. No ugly reincarnations or resurrections.
Deirdra had swept up the remains and tossed them into a bin outside their home, the bin men had come along and removed their rubbish, and that was that. Days free of nightmares, free of horror and evil in the form of a doll. Deirdra felt it best to continue with her life in hopes of sustaining a sense of normality, but also to regain a much stronger grasp of her sanity. Every movement was done as if stepping on eggshells whilst in a room full of sleeping babies, not wanting to set off a row of healthy lungs bellowing. Steps being performed slowly and lightly, to remain masked in the cloak of incognito as to not stir and wake an entourage of screaming babies. When she came home from work this aura was still sewn to her body, walking within her own home, where she should feel completely and fully comfortable, she still felt trapped. Deirdra was convinced that a malignant presence was stalking her, but she made a conscious effort to ignore it. She remembered her mother speaking briefly about ghosts when she was a child. She told Deirdra that if you ignore them, they will leave you alone. But nevertheless a heightened sense that she was being watched often consumed her thoughts. It was difficult to think of much else. Casually stepping from room to room, a simple action, was done as if she were creeping through a minefield, waiting for the tiniest, most temperamental object to be awakened and set off a domino line of explosions. Fearing that one wrong move could send her spiralling into an abhorrence of scarring visions. Not fully settled as the insecurity that Rose may pop up at any second still clung in her realm of possibilities. She was grateful for one thing though, that Declan finally seemed to be getting some sleep, and getting past this.
He was concentrating at school, receiving great reports and impressive grades, and he seemed happy. This was a silver lining for Deirdra, if only she could take a leaf from her son's book. But as we grow with age it is harder to bounce back from terrors and traumas, or so she had been told. She was sure it would happen soon, but patience, as they say, is a virtue.
Deirdra was confident her son was oblivious to her inner turmoil, but sadly she couldn't have been more wrong. He had noticed a sense of distance, regardless of her physical closeness in hugs and during meals, and flowing conversation. Deep down he knew that underneath the surface of this lake lay an entire bed of worries and troubles. He knew it was Rose. As before her arrival his mother had been fine. He needed to find something that would give her peace of mind. So as it was Saturday and he had no school, he felt a trip to his local library would help his mother. There he could research further into the doll, and Emily's family history. Which all-being-well, would ease Deirdra's angsts.
So he grabbed a blue striped shirt from his wardrobe, pulled out a pair of blue denim jeans, squeezed into some old shoes that were too small, and headed for the library. His mind was like a junkyard, items constantly being emptied into it, but in his case it was not broken electronics, or old furniture, it was deep thoughts. Obviously the majority of these thoughts revolved around his impending research to relieve his mother of her anxieties, but the rest was of homework. He couldn't quiet break from nervousness of his father and if he would continue to beat and abuse him.
Ever since his father had smashed Rose into a broken mass of severities, the beatings had appeared to stop. Declan had as usual kept to himself and stayed in his solitude known as his bedroom, but normally this didn't stop David. But for some reason, him remaining in the shadows was working wonders. He would never forget the feel of a fist or boot at the hands of his father, but the memories felt like they were finally beginning to heal. Declan hoped that it had been a side effect of his drinking and that his violent outbursts were now at bay. But Declan and his mother had one personality trait in common, they knew when their denial was clouding their hold on the truth.
Declan had suffered abuse of many forms for his entire life, unknown to his mother, and he doubted that it would all of a sudden just stop. David would continue gulping down ale by the gallon, and would also continue bashing his son. He knew better, or he knew his father better than that. To his father guilt and conscience were nothing more than a bunch of letters put together like a medication prescribed by a doctor, their meanings did not spark any understanding in him.
Soon enough the public library gl
eamed in the horizon. It had always amazed him that the magnificent library stayed in such exquisite condition even in such a demoralized place full of people sponging off the government, people similar to his dad. Whose definition of work was placing bets, playing the lottery or charging someone for a dodgy, unfinished job. A place where values were a lost cause, and the youth of today knew only of drugs, prostitution, under-age pregnancies, self-harm, neglect and alcoholism. During the day it was like a ghost town, reasonably safe to walk around the area. But at night, the demons and monsters of society came alive, a long line of young men out for violence, thugs ready to rape and rob innocent victims, and women out to make some cash by opening their legs for any man that would risk being infected with an STD. But as Declan walked up the sandy coloured stones to the library he looked around to see very little people, he could glimpse the occasional homeless person crouched into a street corner with a small disposable cup half full of pennies. Old men walking their dogs however, seemed to be everywhere, which was sensible. In any other area walking your dog at night may be a nice scenic journey, the moonlight sky and chirping of crickets, and gentle sprays of wind on flesh that is tired of indoor heating and stale air. But in this area walking your dog at night would be a suicide mission, choosing to walk your dog after the sun sets would make people question your intelligence, or poor ability of self-awareness. So, most smart people of the neighbourhood chose the safety of daylight to walk their dogs and get some fresh air. Or as fresh as air can get in a place which was littered with urine, weeds, various body odours, excrement, and a general stench of rotting and decay.
Frightful Tales #1: Rose's Thorn Page 5
