by Mark Lumby
She agreed. “But the doll with the dark hair looks like me.”
“Yes, I suppose it does. Tell me, did he touch Sam?”
“So, I guess thats my favourite.”
“You can have them all if you tell me.”
She watched me for a moment as though I would soon change my mind. “Yes…the other children, too,” She went over to collect the dark haired doll, brought it to the bedside and caressed its hair. “But we told you all this.”
“I know you did,” I gasped. “Listen, it doesn’t matter. I’m still drowsy from the sleep, that’s all.”
“Oh…Ok.” There was a hair brush on the drawers. She picked it up. She placed all of her attention into grooming the doll; nothing else mattered.
I stood and straightened my clothes. Before leaving for downstairs, I turned to her and said, “Will you do one last thing for me?”
“Of course. What is it you asked?”
“Can we keep this between the two of us? No one else need to know, right?”
“What, a secret?” Isabelle sounded astonished. She watched the wall, nervously, as if she expected someone to walk through. But know one did. She composed herself, head held high, and confirmed with a sharp nod, “Between the two of us,” and animated zipping up her lips and throwing away the key.
“Thank you, Isabelle. I trust you. Oh…one last thing.”
“Something else, Daniel?” She lowered the brush as if all she wanted was to be left alone to groom her new toy.
“The children that were buried in the garden; you don’t happen to know where they were buried, do you?”
She looked very perplexed, and she hesitated before telling me. “Under the apple tree.” She promptly resumed combing the dolls hair, and I could tell that she wondered whether she had made a mistake in revealing the burial place.
I closed the door and waited a few seconds. When I heard a bang from within the room, I opened the door. I wanted to check to see if she had gone. The doll lay on the bed and the brush had been dropped on the floor boards. “Of course you have, little girl,” I muttered. “Run along; tell your brother.”
***
I remained quiet for the rest of the day; I read and cooked myself a good meal. I didn’t want to attract the children’s attention. When the time came to eat, I refrained from calling them. Although, there was enough food; I laid out their plates and positioned cutlery. I knew they wouldn’t eat, but I didn’t want to raise suspicion. There was a radio at the side of the kitchen sink, but I suspected the mirror was blocking the frequency. The same went for the television set. But I did have it switched on regardless; the white noise was comforting and broke up the silence.
The shadow was always around me, though, lingering like a rotten cabbage smell that wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. It shifted around me, distorting the air like shimmering heat. Sometimes, it was even tempted to pass through my body. It invaded my body for short pulses of time, as if it was trying to steal it. But when it was there, my mind bled out unclear images of impurity. I sampled warm blood in my mouth, and felt my teeth sinking into raw forbidden meat. Then it would leave and I would be empty. For the first few seconds after its absence, after it had aborted my mind, the hunger remained and I had an overwhelming desire to feast on blood-dripping meat.
I thought about enquiring to Sam what the entity was, but I feared I may not like the answer given. I didn’t think he would give me the truth so easily, either.
The evening meal was ready and I eventually invited the children to join me. I didn’t expect them to show and I wasn’t disappointed. But still, I waited at the table for a while before tucking in to a beef dinner. I cleaned up afterward and went to the sitting room for some white noise and a read of one of many books from the bookshelf collecting dust. I started the log fire. I stayed up all night, because night was my new daytime. The fire cracked and spat. When I didn’t read, I stared at the licking flames.
I drifted asleep for a short time, but was awaken by a scurrying through the walls like grit falling behind the plaster. “Isabelle?”I said with a start. The sound ran all around the room, through the floor, the ceiling, and then there was a bang from upstairs. I ran out of the room and peered up into the dark hallway. “Sam, is that you? You playing?” There was no answer, but I could hear mischievous giggles of the children. A door slammed, floor boards creaked, and then silence. I checked the kitchen, made myself a coffee and returned to the sitting room. The heat from the fire was appreciated compared to the rest of the house. There was no warmth from the radiators; there was no hot water, either. The boiler in the basement wasn’t working. I don’t think it had been for some time. I set my watch alarm for six in the morning, and inevitably, after finishing the hot beverage, I drifted again into sleep.
I jolted upright as six o’clock rang out, stretching and disorientated as to where I was. I checked my watch whilst rubbing my blurred eyes. “Its time.” I went down to the basement and rummaged around for a shovel. I’d seen one lying against the hole so I used that. I left it near the rear door entrance and then returned to the hallway and up the stairs. The house was in total silence as if all the children were sleeping, but I knew that wasn’t true. They were watching, and so was the shadow, probably suspicious of me by now. I entered the bedroom and climbed into bed. I inhaled deep meditated breaths, cleared my mind, and thought about where I wanted to be.
There was no waking up on the grass or under the tree like I was expecting. Instead, I was just there, standing randomly on the back lawn with the house looming over my shoulders. It was autumn, and dying leaves littered the grass in shades of brown. I’d hoped for a little sunshine, but the sun was hiding behind grey clouds and set the mood for the work ahead.
I had never seen the rear garden before, but apart from a change in seasons, it was just as pristine as the front. Immaculately well kept given the fact that nobody had taken care of it. The apple tree was in the far corner taunting the house with it’s wavering branches. There were apples clinging onto their last threads of hope, but most were rotting on the grass.
I walked back to the house, leaped up the steps and slowly opened the door. I was expecting the hinges to protest with a squeak, but it opened like any other well-oiled door. I collected the shovel I had left leaning against a shoe rack. As I checked the time, I listened for the children and heard only silence. I knew they must be around. They were watching, as curious as children were. I reset the alarm on my watch, returned to the tree and began to dig.
***
“Where do you think he went this time?” Sam said, as he watched over the sleeping body.
Isabelle crouched by the side of the bed, stroking the hand that hung limp over the side. “Wherever he is, don’t you think he deserves to go?” she responded.
“I just like to know where he goes.” He was hiding his hands in his pockets and looked out of the bedroom window to the front of the house. He let out a Pff and threw back his head. “I don’t like it. Father doesn’t, either.” He spun on his heels, looking at his sister as though waiting for an answer.
She looked back at her brother, sticking out her neck in defiance. “Well, I don’t mind. I say let him go. After all, he thinks that he’s taking care of us, when all you want off him is to allow Fathers passing through the mirror.”
Sam placed his hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. “We want this, Isabelle. Just you remember that. We are family.”
“Oh…yes…I meant to say we.” She reached over for the dark haired doll that Daniel must have placed on the drawers. She patted down the black nylon hair, and then ran her palm down her own hair. She smiled at Daniels body.
Sam stole the doll off her. “Unless you feel different?”
She flinched. “Give it back!”
“What? He gave it to you!” He threw the toy at Daniels. It bounced off his head onto the floor.
She took the doll back, embracing it in her arms like her child. “I like i
t…its mine.”
“You’re changing, Isabelle. Father won’t like that. You feel different.”
“No…no…I don’t,” she stammered. “Really, I don’t.”
“Because if Father heard your words,” he warned, “you know what would happen?”
“It was a slip of the tongue, Sam.” She got up and walked to the toy box. “Don’t be so silly. And besides, Father is in no state to harm us.” She picked up another doll and straightened up it’s clothing. She peered over her shoulder expecting her brother to be watching her, but his attention was on other issues. She smiled at the toy, dropping back into the box, and carefully lay Daniels gift next to it.
She was different. She did like Daniel, and didn’t want him hurt. She didn’t like lying to him, either. She wanted him to know the truth, but that would mean being punished, or exiled; and that was a far worse outcome. But for the moment, her loyalties belong to her brother.
“He can’t harm us, yet, sister,” he said. “When he’s here, though, there will be change.” He approached the bed with a clear distaste for the body that lay there. “Where are you, Daniel? Where have you gone?” He poked the body in the stomach hard enough to leave a bruise.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “You’ll wake him!”
“Nothing…” He sighed and spat liquid hatred in Daniels face. “I don’t like him,” he confessed. He started to push his finger into Daniels eye.
“Stop! You don’t like anyone, Sam. You didn’t like Carl; you didn’t like Jack, either.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t really care, but retreated his finger. “Because they’re not like us. They reek of humanity, of flesh and bone; their vulnerability it sickens me. They’re all so weak, they make my skin crawl.”
“But they are not so vulnerable, are they? Having contact with three of these human is nothing too go by, is it?” she sniggered. “Your vast experience overwhelms me, brother.”
“Don’t mock me!” he shouted, punching the mattress to the side of Daniels head. He strolled toward her. “When Father arrives, do you know what will happen to you?” He stood behind her. Her head was down looking into the toy box as he twisted her hair around his fingers like a pair of chop sticks.
“I know what will happen to me,” she muttered. “My role here is as clear as the duty given to our sisters. We are to be your mate; to give you child; a product of a pure breed.”
“Yes…of pure breed…the purist of any breed living on this realm. And we shall continue to breed within each other, keeping our blood line pure. We will blend in with society, growing in size, becoming stronger.” He breathed down the nape of her neck as if his lips wanted to caress her skin. Then he tugged back a fist full of her hair, pulling her head backwards.
“Yes, brother,” she tried not to scream out, but couldn’t help herself. She hummed as though making this sound would keep away to tears.
“But you show defiance again, little sister, and I swear to you, I will cast you aside, and I will kill you myself.”
She fought back beads of wet that were threatening to fall from her eyes. She needed Sam to leave so she could be alone. She kept humming, fighting away those tears. “I understand, brother.”
The twin sisters emerged through the wall. She left twin frowned, looking worried over her sister. The right twin went over to Sam and whispered words in his ear that seemed to shock him.
He glanced over at Daniel. “Are you sure?”
She said, “We don’t know; we can’t see him, but we can hear something from the kitchen.”
“Something?”
“Outside…in the garden,” the twin confirmed, and she turned to Isabelle in distaste.
Sam looked at Isabelle. “You hear that, sister? Apparently, your Daniel is in the garden.”
She shook her head helplessly. “He’s not my…”
“And why do you suppose,” he broke in, “he is out there? Could you tell me that!”
Isabelle couldn’t answer, but reached back for the dark hair doll, more as a distraction.
“Sister?” He waited for a response and was angry when it never came. “Isabelle!” he shouted.
She was nearly sent out of her skin, and the doll crashed into the box. But she refused to turn around. She was terrified of him, and even though he couldn’t harm her now, she knew that as soon as her Father passed through the mirror, this would change.
“What did he tell you? He must have said something…anything.”
She acted as if she was recalling what he had said. She cocked her head to the side as if by thinking. “Erm…no…I don’t remember. I promise, Sam…nothing. I would say…I would tell you.” She looked at him. “Please believe me,” she persisted.
He approached her, played with her hair again, like a mother would with her daughter. He caressed brown strands tucking them behind her ears, judging her as he did. “I believe in you.” His fingers squeezed her chin and he moved it so they faced each other. He kissed her on her tightly closed lips. “I believe in you, sister. I really do.” He pushed her away like a lover who had been betrayed. He returned to the body lying limp on the bed. “But, surely there are more interesting places to visit than the back of the house. So, what are you doing in the garden, Daniel? What are you playing at? If only I could step out and see for myself, but you know I can’t; you know I can’t follow you.” Then, he stepped away from the bed as though he had figured out his reasons, and glanced at the twins. “He knows.”
The twin stare at each other, confused.
“He’s digging; he’s trying to find the bodies.”
The twins said in unison, “But…there are none,” a monotone sound that was neither aggressive nor evil, but could chill the skin and bone just by listening.
“I know,” he confirmed. “And once he realises that also, he will know that we have lied to him. And with the lie, we lose his trust.” He looked satisfied at Isabelle.
“Isabelle? You know what that means, don’t you?”
The twins glided smoothly over to the foot bed as if they floated and didn’t walk, and each of them produced a nine inch long carving knife that dropped from their white cotton sleeves. The left twin went around the left side of the bed and the right twin went to the right side. They stared each other in the face, smirking as if they would really enjoy participating in what was about unfold. They patiently awaited for their brothers instructions like animals ready to pounce on their prey.
Isabelle didn’t want him to die; she really did not want him to die. But what could she do? Showing no remorse, she said, “If there is no other way, then it has to be done.” She turned her back on them. She didn’t want to see the murder; she didn’t want to hear it, either, but at least he was sleeping and would feel no pain. “No…wait!” She spun around. “Is there no other way?”
“None that I can see,” Sam grinned. “It’s all over, sister. We need to make plans and move on to the next candidate.”
“But Daniel can do this,” she urged. “He will pull through. It will take too long to select another. You know that, brother. And Father will be displeased. He will not like it!”
“But he will no longer trust us; how can we continue if its broken.”
“Bridges are built, we just need to work hard to rebuild them.”
“I’m not so sure…perhaps it is you who are compromised,” Sam said.
“Thats a ridiculous accusation,” Isabelle yelled, possibly in an attempt to wake Daniel, or perhaps to alert him from the garden.
He leered at her before turning to the twins. He told them, “Continue,” and at the same time they raised their knives above their heads and thrust them into Daniels chest, again and again, slicing through with unusual ease considering it was children executing this crime. But they were no ordinary minors. They were the Devils children, and although they were minors physically and in strength, mentally, they were different. They showed signs of rage that shouldn’t be received from children of that age. The b
lades sliced through his flesh and hit bone, and they resumed stabbing him like a factory production line, slicing clothes and puncturing his stomach, breaking his ribs, striking his pelvis with a crack. Blood flowed into the sheets underneath, bubbling from wounds that resembled fish guiles. And still, the twinned attacked Daniels body with so much anger, Isabelle pleaded for them to stop. They did, panting at the mess beneath them. They stared down on it as if they were making a mental recording, proud of their work. They moved to his face, one of the twin drawing lines of crimson down his pale cheeks with the back of the blade. They looked at one another, nodded courteously, and still recovering from the first attack, they thrust the blades into his face, slicing through his jaw and striking his neck and skull.
Isabelle gulped as if she was about to vomit, and appeared to swallow it down.
“Thats enough,” Sam instructed, holding up his hand.
The twins were delirious, and continued to execute Daniel.
“Sisters!” he shouted. “Sisters, enough!” And he pounced forward, ready to push them away from the body.
They stopped, looked up at Sam, and angrily parked the knives into his chest cavity, and stepped away from the bed. Their white dresses were mostly red, blood splattered and speared across their faces.
Skin hung from his torso like raw bacon and merged with the shredded sheets until it was hard to make out which was which. His wounds like open mouths spoke of the pain he would have felt if he was awake.
Isabelle battled to keep back her tears, but she tried not to show signs of weakness, and perhaps vulnerabilities over Daniel. But he was dead. There was no doubt about it. No one could survive that level of attack, loose that much blood, and still wake from his sleep.
Sam approached the bed, studied the lacerated corpse, and looked up at the twins in horror. He had to step away, because it was too much. He glanced at Isabelle as though he was somehow sorry for his actions; she ignored him and left the room through the door.
