Daddy Won't Kill You (An Occult Horror)

by Gebbie, Caroline

  Steve left the kids by the lake and rushed to the cabin. He knew they would be fine. It would be cold on the lake, but the journey would only take an hour and soon they would be safe and warm, and Lauren could get help. He felt a new lease of energy as he jogged to the cabin.

  The chair rocked forwards; Val giggled to herself and hugged her arms around her chest. “Come to momma,” she said in a voice that was deeper, coarse almost as if she had smoked for forty years.

  The chair rocked back. The girl's hand was a bloody stump, on the deck the useless remnants of her scattered fingers looked like sausages. Her dress was splattered with dark almost brown stains, and her head lay to one side. Her eyes milky white her lips open. A cockroach scuttled out of her mouth and ran down her cheek.

  The chair rocked forwards, and Val was back. She looked calm, smug and in control.

  Steve stepped onto the deck, was that Lauren? She looked so different. He could not think of this now. He had to get the kids away, and if Lauren would not come he would leave her and come back with help. “We’re leaving, come with us.”

  “Again,” she said in that coarse voice.

  Steve’s hope was fading, what should he do? The wind blew past him, and the paper on the deck flipped through the pages until it settled onto a different view. The chair rocked back; Val was gone replaced by a young man from the paper who sat tied to the chair. He was a teenager, tall and gangly. In the paper, he looked immensely pleased with himself. With a cheeky, yet kind grin that defined his character, I bet he was trouble. In the chair, his cheeks were pulled back to create a gaunt almost skeletal vision. Sweat ran down his face to mix with splatters of blood as he screamed out his pain and terror. A bloody stump wept puss and blood onto the deck from where his right leg should be. Steve leapt back. His skin tingled, and his hair stood on end as his heart seemed to leap from his chest. He tripped on the deck and landed hard on his coccyx. The boy stared at him, defeated eyes pleaded for help. Steve scuttled back away from the apparition. Icy fingers seemed to claw at his stomach, and his mind just kept repeating no, no, no.

  Val laughed as the chair rocked forwards.

  Steve stood up and looked behind him at the children. They were holding hands, stood just within his view; they were fine for now. He moved towards Lauren, was it Lauren she looked so different yet the bone structure was hers. But Lauren never had that look and the eyes were lighter like shards of ice, whereas Lauren’s were the warm sky blue of summer. “Lauren?” he asked.

  “She’s not here anymore,” Val said and the chair started to rock backwards.

  Steve lurched forwards; he wanted to grab her, to pull her from the chair and carry her to the boat. He stopped. If she were to fight him in the boat it could capsize, and the children could be lost. He looked down towards the lake and then back at her. “Lauren, I know you’re in there, stay strong. I have to get the Pumpkins to safety, but I’ll be back for you.”

  He took one last look and then ran from the deck before the chair could rock back to another nightmare. As he reached the children, on the deck, the paper flicked through its pages, backwards and forwards the paper fanned continuously.

  The chair rocked back; the young man re-appeared, covered in blood. Dark splashes ranged from his face, down over his chest and seemed to soak into his trousers. A crudely bound stump seeped blood through the faded gauze that bound what was left of his right leg.

  A saw appeared above his left leg. The blade was rusty; the teeth plastered with dried blood and flesh. It lowered down and touched his trousers just below the knee. He jerked awake and the chair rocked forwards.

  Val laughed and rubbed her knees; the chair rocked back. The man screamed out a silent scream. He rocked in the chair, from side to side as it travelled backwards so slowly. His legs kicked the left one held by rope that grazed his ankle below blue trousers. His right stump waved forlornly as he struggled to avoid the saw.

  The blade ripped through the material and bit into skin. Blood erupted from the wound, and he bucked in the chair, it looked as if it would fall over but then it rocked forwards.

  Val was back she stopped the chair and stared at the lake. With a mean, spiteful smile she relaxed back, her eyes closed concentration wrinkled her forehead and showed in her tensed fists. For a second, the faint image of the girl in white overlaid her body. The image rose from her as if it would float away, a translucent horror that hovered above the chair. The twisted face of the tortured woman grew larger and fainter, and then the image was just mist in the night and Val sat in the chair a knowing expression on her hateful face.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The children clung to each other as they huddled at the front of the boat. Shivering and tired they looked like giant teddies bundled up in their life jackets.

  “Soon be outta here,” Steve said.

  He flicked a switch to turn on the fuel and then pulled hard on the boat's starter cord. The engine turned over but did not fire. Not again.

  On the deck Val watched the lake, a deliriously mad expression on her face. As the chair rocked backwards, a young girl appeared. With blonde curls and a pretty face she could almost be Lucy. Blood ran down her tear stained cheek, like a splash of sauce on white porcelain. As the chair travelled back, she bit her lip and shrank as far as she could into the wood. Terrified eyes seemed to fill her face as she fought the ropes with her tiny arms. Panic set her thrashing against her bonds, but she could not break free. Silently she wailed out her terror.

  The chair rocked forward, Val laughed and pushed back. The rusty saw appeared just above the girl’s left arm. She looked eight years old and frightened for her life. Her eyes screwed tight into her imploded cheeks as tears squeezed between them and ran down her perfect face. They made white tracks through the grime and blood, leaving little rivers of white. The chair moved in slow motion, and the blade touched her tiny arm. Blood erupted beneath it and streamed down onto her thighs. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Her miniscule body convulsed with sobs, as the saw bit deeper.

  The saw sliced through the skin and muscle with ease, catching for a moment as it hit bone. Her head was back, spasmed into a silent scream that went on and on as if there was no end. The saw was through the bone and back into flesh. The blade glided through muscle and skin and into the marks on the chairs arms. For a second, her scream was real, a high pitched wail of despair. It floated out towards the lake, and the chair rocked forward.

  The little girl’s scream pierced the distance and scratched like nails down Steve's spine. He spun around, a greasy sickness in his stomach at the scream that sounded like Lucy. The urge to go back, to help, was almost irresistible but he knew it was not real, and he must protect his own children unless they become the chair’s next victims. Lucy and Chase both jumped at the terrified wail, the boat rocked precariously on the water. Steve balanced his feet, holding the boat firm and could see them looking past him, looking back at the cabin. He prayed they were too far away for them to see anything. He pulled again on the starter cord. The engine turned over, but it still wouldn’t fire. “Shit.”

  “Daddy naughty,” Lucy waved a finger at her father.

  “I know Pumpkin, but tonight it’s allowed.” He adjusted the choke and pulled the starter cord again, giving it all he had.

  “Then shit, shit, shit,” Lucy chanted as Steve tried the engine one more time.

  He jumped out of the boat, almost laughing, but knowing if he started that he wouldn’t be able to stop, hysteria was knocking at his door. He gasped as he hit the cold water.

  “Dad is it all right?” Chase asked.

  Steve waded through the chill waist high water and moved round to the engine. His breath was coming fast, and he could feel his heart racing. He knew he must stay calm, get this over and done with and haul himself out of the freezing water. He lifted the engine cover and shone a torch beneath, cut wires waved back at him. His heart dropped. “Bitch.”

  “Daddy,” Lucy sa
id.

  “Daddy’s sorry.”

  “Dad?” Chase asked.

  What could he do? It couldn’t be fixed, well not here. It doesn’t matter they had to leave. He must get the kids to safety. He felt like the world was spinning away from him as the cold water seeped into his bones and the chill froze his brain. He climbed back into the boat, splashing water across the bottom and the knees of both children. He saw them wince but they sat stoic, their faces eager and expectant. “Don’t worry, I can row us outta here.”

  On the deck, the chair held a blood splattered Val, laughing with that manic grin. The chair rocked backwards.

  The little girl had the saw half way through her left leg. Like a joint in a butchers shop, red flesh protruded from white skin and blood splattered and ran from the saws cutting edge. She had stopped screaming; her head bent over her chest, and her golden curls, matted, and dull hung down her bloody, bruised face. As the saw dragged back, blood oozed from the meat, and she screamed again, mouthing words. The saw hit the bone and caught. She screamed for her life, and the words. “Mummy, please.” Were real, they echoed down towards the lake, just as the chair rocked forwards.

  Steve was pushing the boat away from the shore, with an oar. The words tore at his soul, and he looked at his own children to steady himself. He smiled weakly. He had to keep their spirits up; this would be a long, cold journey. “Chase keep the torch handy, but save the batteries, right let’s go.” He settled back into his seat and prepared to row.

  He dug the oars into the crystal clear lake and slowly the boat moved away from the shore. The lake was dark, but there was enough light for them to navigate, there had to be. He pushed the oars into the water and pulled with all his might. The boat sprang across the water and pulled away from the shore. It was hard work heaving the heavy boat through the water and he tried to regulate his breathing and to calm his heart. They were safe now, all he had to do was make it across the lake and thirty odd miles downstream to the town.

  Up on the deck Val stopped the chair and watched as the small boat pulled away from shore. She reached down and picked up a kitchen knife. With the gleaming blade in her hand, the chair rocked backwards.

  A young woman dressed all in white was in the chair. Her shift dress was sheer perfection but as the chair continued back it was sprinkled with blood. Cuts appeared over the dress, across her arms, her stomach her thighs, the chair rocked forwards. The woman was still there; her face drawn, the skin collapsed inwards as the muscle beneath it decomposed. She had a grey, blue complexion and her eyes were milky white. Fly’s buzzed around her face.

  As the chair rocked backwards, she remained there. Val was in the chair, but the woman stood before her. She stepped away from the chair a translucent nightmare. The only thing real about her was the knife. The dress seemed to shimmer as she stepped towards the lake, her head turning, back to the chair. She opened her mouth as if to protest, beetles scuttled from it and ran down the white of the dress to the deck. She turned as if resigned to her fate and with the knife before her she walked towards the lake.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The oars dug deep into the silent waters as Steve rowed them away from the shore. He was puffing badly, and his arms burned but they were moving, if painfully slowly.

  “Daddy,” Lucy shrieked her arm pointed to the shore.

  Steve followed her hand, while still pulling with the oars. He could see a figure in white stood at the side of the lake. His heart leapt, was Lauren coming with them? No, he could see it better now. It was the girl he saw in the chair, a decomposed nightmare dressed in white cotton.

  The corpse smiled through missing lips as a cockroach scuttled from its mouth across a paper thin cheek and into its ear.

  “Kids look away, it’s just the mist,” Steve said putting more effort into the oars.

  “What mist,” Chase challenged.

  “Look after Lucy,” Steve grunted as he tugged on the oars.

  Chase nodded and pulled his sister's head away. He retrieved Bunkie from the pack at her feet and stuffed him into her arms. Steve could see the boys face, ghostly white in the moonlight. His hands were shaking, but he kept his sister amused with the rabbit, kept her looking into the boat.

  The figure on the shoreline changed, for a second it was Val, then Lauren and then it was back to the distraught girl, pointing her decomposed arm accusingly at them. It was as if she blamed them for her fate. Steve had stopped rowing. The oars lay still in the lake. He had to get them away.

  He clasped the oars and pushed them deep into the water, pulling back with all his strength. On the shore, the white figure opened its mouth to scream at them, a silent, eerie scream. Steve could not drag his eyes from it as he pulled on the oars. The figure shimmered and was Lauren, her face twisted with anguish and horror, then it was Val’s smug expression with hatred hot in those cold blue eyes, and then it turned back to the corpse.

  Steve rowed for all he was worth, the tune to row, row, row your boat came into his mind, and he almost laughed. The figure on the shore raised her almost skeletal head and projected insects up into the night. More and more insects were spewed from the paper thin mouth, up into the air and finally landing silently on the lakes stony shore.

  He pulled desperately on the oars. “We’re doing fine kids, let’s sing a song.”

  Lucy held onto Bunkie, but she was huddled next to Chase, her face white, her lips trembling. Steve looked back at the shore the figure was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they were too far from the... what? The spirits influence? He eased up on the oars, allowing his heart to have a breather, and he rowed gently away from the shore.

  He caught a flash of white in the water just at the edge of his vision. A crazy fear gripped him, and he froze for a second. Recovering he steered the boat away from it.

  The white appeared on the other side of the boat. He saw it better this time, a tatter of cloth on a decomposed arm. He steered away again, the boat now going in a crazy zigzag pattern.

  The white appeared again to the right of the boat. He saw a glint of cold steel raised out of the blackness of the lake. Steve felt his heart stabbing in his chest and moved the boat away again, how long could he keep this up?

  He steered the boat from side to side, avoiding the flash of white or deadly steel sometimes only by inches. He was tiring; his arms ached, and his chest was tight. The kids huddled together in the center of the boat never uttering a word. Steve searched the murky waters. It was gone. He set the boat back on a straight course and pulled on the oars. During their crazy meandering course they had hardly made any ground and he was exhausted. He had to keep going, he could rest when they were safe.

  “Are we safe?” Lucy asked her voice small in the dark.

  “Yes Pumpkin,” Steve answered.

  They heard a scrape, like steel on the bottom of the boat.

  “Did we hit something?” Chase asked.

  The noise came again, like a finger on a blackboard. It set Steve’s nerves on edge. He knew this lake well. There was nothing here to hit. The realization hit him. “Get your legs up.”

  Lucy turned and looked her eyes huge in the moonlight. Tears had dried on her cheeks, and she looked so young and so vulnerable. Chase tapped her leg and pulled her knees to lift her feet off the boat. He started to do the same, just as a glint of steel came through the wooden hull and nicked his ankle. He cried out and pulled his feet up onto the bench.

  Lauren surfaced through the grimy water to the left of the boat. Her long hair was plastered to her head, and she wore the tattered white dress. She wheezed to clear the water from her lungs and looked desperately at Steve. Her face seemed to fold in on itself and became Val, the shorter, straighter hair, the spiteful eyes and the mean set to the jaw all differentiated the two women. The fight between the two individuals thrashed the water into a whirlpool, and then the corpse was back.

  For a second brown eyes met with Steve’s and seemed to plead for help, or release,
he did not know which, and then they clouded became milky white, and the corpse sank. The right hand held the knife above the water, before slowly disappearing into the cold dark depths.

  “Lauren,” Steve dropped the oars and searched the water. It bubbled where the fight had been, gradually settling, until it was still. The inky black depths did not allow him to see through the surface to what lay beneath. “No.” Steve was unsure what to do. He wanted to jump in and search for his wife, but the lake was not that deep and the children. He stood rocking the boat and leaned towards the side. The boat tilted precariously.

  “Dad, look” Chase tugged at his arm and pointed at the cabin. They could just see the rocking chair, silhouetted in the moonlight, it was empty.

  Steve sat down righting the boat that rocked from side to side as it gradually settled. He felt lost, defeated. He stared at the water had Lauren drowned herself to save them? Could he still find her, he stood up, scouring the surface of the water, he wanted to jump, to search the depths.

  “Daddy.” Lucy was clutching a bedraggled Bunkie to her chest, sucking on his ear.

  Steve looked at her, her eyes wide and pleading. “It’s gone,” he said. Staring into the waters, he whispered, “Lauren.”

  “Dad,” Lucy asked.

  He stared at the now smooth, black surface of the lake; there was no sign of any disturbance.

  “Dad.” Lucy tugged at his sleeve.

  “What?”

  “My feet are getting wet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Torch,” Steve shouted. She’s gone, how can she be gone?

  The light came on, and Steve grabbed it from Chase. He shone it down at the boat. Water was pouring through a dozen holes. Steve put his boot over one of them, trying to stop the water.