Dark Winter

by John Hennessy

  The planchette moved slowly, but deliberately, to NO on the ouija board.

  “Okay…what can you tell us?”

  The planchette moved furiously. Toril nominated Beth to write down the letters, but her hands were trembling so much it was hard to make out what she was writing.

  Soon, it became clear, and shocked the girls terribly.

  BOY. TRAPPED. FIFTH. FLOOR. CURIE.

  The last word in particular scared the girls. It mean that the spirit summoned through the ouija knew someone the girls knew, Mr Curie, the school caretaker.

  “Boy trapped fifth floor? And Curie?” I really don’t understand, said Jacinta.

  “The Ouija won’t literally spell it all out for you, Jay,” said Toril.

  “I think it means some poor boy is trapped somewhere in the school,” said Beth breathlessly.

  “Why would you think that?” asked Jacinta.

  “No…she’s right. That’s logical. It makes sense,” said Toril. “Maybe…..maybe some boy is trapped, on the fifth floor-”

  “In the girl’s toilets,” said Beth. “By Curie! I bet that old devil is involved in this! We have to go, and go now.”

  But the plan was doomed to fail before it even started. The girls knew all too well that the school was locked up by Curie every night, but they couldn’t deny what they had just witnessed.

  “We have to go, we have to get in there, somehow,” said Beth, exasperated. She found her sense of bravery rather overwhelming. Perhaps it was just because she would love to know that Curie was up to no good and would be caught in the act. Then the police would have some evidence to go on.

  “We’re staying put,” said Toril. “You know as well as I do that there is no way into the school, and even if there was, Curie will be there, and he’ll have four kids to look after instead of one. You know, Bethany, I’m surprised at you even suggesting this.”

  Beth started to feel more anger than anything else. “Is this a bit of fun, or for real? If it is real, you can’t let him get away with this Toril. You can’t! Can we at least call the police?”

  “Of course not,” said Toril. “Can you imagine it? Oh, hello, Police? Well, we’ve been using a ouija board and we know a boy is in trouble, and is locked up by the crazy caretaker at the school. Can you go and get him out please?”

  Toril paused for a moment. “Come on Beth, can’t you see how that would go down?”

  “That’s why we have to go,” Beth stammered. “This is no longer a game, Toril. Now I have played this damn thing with you and we have to do something, now that it has become real. If a boy dies because we don’t do nothing, can you live with that? Can you? Because I can’t. That Curie, he’s evil. You know it.”

  “She’s right,” said Jacinta. “We called the spirit out. We should be thanking the spirits, to be honest, even if it’s a malevolent one. Staying put isn’t a plan.”

  The rain continued to beat down. The girls talked amongst themselves, trying to formulate a plan.

  Something loud, something un-nerving, something that in the day-time, would be quite normal, stopped them in their tracks.

  With no-one else sure to be on the street at this time of night, in weather like that, there was a loud knock at their door.

  A Knock At The Door

  They didn’t want to answer the door at all, but as it was raining down even harder than ever, and Toril knew they would have to get going soon anyway, it couldn’t hurt to give whoever it was a towel, so they could dry off for a moment?

  She looked at her friends’ faces.

  “I wouldn’t let him in,” said Jacinta.

  “If it is a he,” said Jacinta. “Why in God’s name would anyone be going around on a night like this?”

  Toril was about to answer when the door was banged down again.

  “Jesus!” shrieked Beth, who instantly covered her mouth.

  Toril felt the figure wasn’t going to go away. She decided to open the door.

  The figure was that of a man. He wore a long cloak, but he was soaked through. His hands were ringing wet, and even in the darkness, Toril could make out he was a man of advanced years, and was no real threat to the three girls. He didn’t look like he was in any position to cause trouble anyway.

  Through the peep-hole, the man’s eyes burned into Toril, and she unlocked the door, as if he commanded her to do so.

  Whilst Beth and Jacinta looked perplexed by Toril’s actions, the man crossed over the thresh-hold, into the house. We glanced a What the hell does she think she’s doing look at each other.

  The man shuffled over to the table where the girls were sitting. Jacinta had wanted to hide the ouija board somehow, but it was all too late. The man dried his hair with the towel Toril gave him, wrung out his hands, and Toril seemed to have gotten herself together again, seeming shocked that a strange man was in the house.

  Pointing to the door, Toril said, “Well! Looks like the rain is stopping now. Wouldn’t want to keep you! Best to be on your way.”

  The man shook his head. Toril’s heart sank. What to do now?

  Worryingly for the girls, he kept his focus on the table, and then, as soon as he placed his hands towards the planchette, the door wrenched itself out of Toril’s grasp, slamming itself shut.

  Toril gasped. The man looked at her, and pointed to the ouija board.

  “Oh….I know!” she said. “But it’s just a game, for fun, see? We don’t really know what we were doing with it really. Makes a change from tarot cards though.”

  Toril was rambling, and didn’t feel she was convincing herself, never mind anyone else present.

  Having a moment of clarity, she wondered why had she opened the door. When she would have time to think about that answer later, it may come to be that she just had to open the door. The man, the figure on the other side of the door, was not there by accident. He would have gotten inside the home, one way or the other.

  This wasn’t for the girls, and specifically, for Toril to know at this time.

  He pointed to the three girls. First Jacinta, then Beth, and finally, Toril.

  He then pointed to the three chairs the girls had been using prior to that knock on the door.

  Toril did her best to stay calm and play along.

  “Oh! Oh yes! You want us to sit, okay….that’s fine. Come on Jay, Beth. Don’t be rude to our guest.”

  Jacinta and Beth cast unsure glances at each other, and tentatively sat down. Now it was the man in the middle, with Jacinta and Beth sitting either side of him, who all placed their fingers on the planchette.

  The man’s fingers looked incredibly old, and his fingernails were very long, even longer than Beth’s, which was saying something. There was bits of soot under his nails, even in the low-light of the room, that was plain to see.

  Jacinta hid her disgust at the man’s nails. Inwardly, she thought He smells like death.

  Beth hid her annoyance at the man’s rudeness. He hasn’t even said a single word to us.

  Toril thought he lacked basic courtesy. No thank you for the towel, no word about being such a trouble for us so late at night. No way of knowing if he will go quietly, and leave us alone. No way of knowing what the hell he actually is, or what he wants. Not to mention controlling my mind and getting me to open the door, the cheek of this dotard.

  Toril recounted one of her books of the occult.

  Ghosts don’t fade away. They are just out of our range of sight. They never actually fade away. Was this one of those times?

  More worrying thoughts.

  There’s no way to get rid of him, and we’re stuck playing ouija with some stranger who I only wanted to help, and now I wish I hadn’t, because we could all end up paying the price for my kindness. Ghost, human, devil, stranger…whatever he is, we have to get rid of him. I hope he can’t read my mind.

  Toril looked on transfixed, trying with all her might not to betray her true thoughts and feelings, and was just willing Beth and Jacinta to get this over with. M
aybe then he would go.

  The planchette started to move. Toril suddenly found herself with a pencil in her hand, and she started to scribble the words.

  First word: TWO.

  Second: WILL.

  Third: DIE.

  Toril started shaking uncontrollably, and collapsed, holding the pencil in her hand, so tightly, it was like she had rigor mortis.

  From her horizontal position on the floor, she could see the man’s feet. They were not human, but cloven hooves. Toril knew what someone with cloven hooves represented. She convulsed on the floor some more, and passed out. The devil was visiting them this night.

  As the figure stood up, the candle-light burned out in Toril’s house, and the screams of Beth and Jacinta could be heard from miles away.

  The Girl With Tainted Hands

  The Winters were making their way back from their summer retreat.

  “You know,” said Daphne Winter to her husband, “I think the snow comes quicker every year. We’ve only left the place and it has changed from light to dark, from hot to cold, in just a few minutes. Amazing, really.”

  Married for over twenty years, Ronald Winter had heard it all, and especially this same old tired line from his wife for the last few of those years. It hasn’t been a few minutes. It’s been four hours. You’d think she’d have cottoned on to this by now.

  “Don’t you think so?” said his wife, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Yeah, sure, Daph.”

  “You do think she’s alright, don’t you? We didn’t make a mistake, leaving her on her own, did we?”

  The same old lines again. Ronald Winter loved me, Romilly, his daughter, very much, but I had made it very clear I was a grown-up, and could stay in the wood-cabin, do my own thing, whilst the ‘rents’ could do their own thing. Daphne, being his wife, and my Mum, objected at first.

  “Milly, no. Absolutely not.”

  “Why not?” I countered sharply.

  “Because, you’re too young. I wouldn’t stay there on my own, and I’m much older than you. I forbid it.”

  “You forbid it?” I started to get very annoyed. “Well, now I’m definitely going.”

  “Then we are definitely staying. This is very selfish of you, Romilly Winter. Go to your room. I’m telling your father now.”

  “Yeah, and I hope that when you do, you tell him why,” I said. “I’m not a little girl anymore. You can’t keep me here trapped all the time.”

  Mum put her hands on my shoulders. “You know why. Your hands. It’s just not safe for you-”

  I pulled myself from her grasp and ran upstairs to my room, slamming the door as hard as I could. I buried my head in the pillow whilst Mum picked up the phone, and ratted me out to my father.

  The pillow had almost stuck to my face. I hadn’t realised how much I had been crying. There was a knock on my bedroom door.

  “GO AWAY!!” I screamed.

  “I’ve got chocolate.” The voice belonged to my father.

  “Go away. I mean it.” I didn’t.

  “You don’t mean that, Milly. Can I come in?”

  Wiping my hair from my eyes, I said, “Sure.”

  My father came in, armed with chocolate. “Here, Mills.”

  Another pet name for me.

  “You know, my name is Romilly. If you didn’t like it, why did you choose it for me?” I spoke with an indignant tone that I didn’t like in myself. I was still crying.

  “Your Nan liked it. Your mother and I like it.”

  “Oh.” God, I miss Nan. She always brought me chocolate, and it was never to make amends, because she never fell out with me.

  “Can I sit down, Romilly?”

  “Of course.”

  Dad didn’t say anything for a while. I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I blurted it out.

  “I shouted at Mum.”

  “So I heard.”

  “So, you’re here to reprimand me?”

  “Maybe not. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  “Hasn’t Mum told you?”

  “Yes, but I want to hear it from you.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You’ll listen to what I say, then just ignore it.”

  “I promise you, I won’t do that.”

  “Mum won’t let me stay in the wood-cabin. But it’s more than that. I’ve never, ever had time on my own. I feel I’m growing up. I want to try it out, and I want you and Mum to have a break from me, you know, for yourselves. I know it hasn’t been easy, bringing me up.”

  These words I spoke with heartful emotion. I meant every word.

  “Milly, don’t you understand? What good is a break for me and your mother, if it doesn’t include you?”

  The next words I would have to choose carefully. Nan had told me in her last few years that it was most important I was at Rosewinter on my sixteenth birthday. I couldn’t betray her last wishes, and somehow, I had to convince Dad to let me stay on my own there. Even though I didn’t know what to expect once on my own, I felt confident I would be alright, because well, we had spent many summers in the wood house, and they were great times. Nan’s prophecy might not come true after all.

  “Milly? Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, and I think you and Mum, on a break would be great. I totally agree. And I will be fine. Thanks Dad.”

  I hugged my father, and yet I knew the subterfuge wouldn’t last. He was a very smart man.

  He looked at me as if to say What did I just ask?

  “Milly, I don’t recall agreeing to anything. Now just why is it so important that you stay at the wood house this year? You are barely fourteen years old.”

  “Fifteen, now,” I reassured him. “And I will be fine. I can’t offer you a reason, because, well, I don’t have one. Except –”

  I broke off. I wouldn’t be lying, but still…

  “Except what?”

  “Except that, Nan really wanted me to go to Rosewinter, and I know you and Mum think I’m crazy and maybe I am, but honestly, truthfully, she wants me to go there. I really don’t know why. In any case, I would like to go.”

  My father looked at me with concern. “Milly, I believe you. But your Mum would not be pleased if you used Nan’s words in that way.”

  “I’m not lying!” I screamed. “I loved Nan, why would I lie about her?”

  “Because, well, you might let a boy stay there. And I can tell you right now, that won’t happen.”

  “Now you are sounding like Mum.” I sat on the bed, arms folded, defeated. If mentioning Nan, mentioning the truth didn’t work, what would?

  I studied my lace-gloved hands. “It’s this, isn’t it?” I said in an accusatory tone. “This is why you won’t let me go. Maybe I should just take my gloves off then, and to hell with the consequences.”

  “Milly, don’t do that. Please. If you really want to know, the wood-cabin…well, it has been in a state of disrepair for a good while now. I don’t want to go there, much less you or your Mum.”

  “I’ll be really good. No boys, I promise, and I will keep the gloves on. All the time.”

  Dad stood silent whilst he took in all I had said. “You’re fifteen, hmm?”

  “Yes.”

  “A young woman already.” He sounded almost sad about that.

  “I suppose I am.”

  “Capable of looking after yourself, right?”

  “That’s right. I would enjoy it, and you two could have a nice holiday too.”

  “What if something goes wrong? You would be miles from anywhere.”

  “I have a phone.”

  “But do you have reception? Milly, don’t you see? It’s crazy.”

  “It’s an adventure, Daddy, come on.”

  “No boys?”

  “No boys. I just want to be on my own, really.” I really did. Boys were just so, uck. Except Troy Jackson, but he didn’t count, because for him, I didn’t exist.

  “Okay. Okay then. I’ll talk to your Mum, and you - you will join us for dinner.”<
br />
  “Thank you, Dad.” I was overcome with relief and joy…and some other, indescribable feeling. But I knew this was the right thing to be happening at this time.

  I cleaned myself up and prepared to go downstairs for dinner. Outside, the rain splattered violently onto my window.