by Lily Taffel
Her body fell on emptiness except on a head-her daughter's decapitated head! It wailed a chilling wail upon contact, deafening as well as hair-raising. Unable to run away and surrounded by bone-chilling monstrosities, Susan did the next thing her reflexes made her do.
She screamed.
But again, there was no sound.
She was truly back to the nightmare and something snapped when she realized she was going through the same horror again...
13
JIM WAS NOT sure if he was dreaming.
He was in the bedroom. The dimness of their room increased the sensitivity of his ears. For many moments, it was silent. He lay still, listening.
Nothing.
Jim decided to go back to sleep after a while. He even turned over to one side. But when he closed his eyes again, the sound magnified around him. He began to hear a consistent panting and now that he was hearing this detail, the stronger it got until it felt like the sound was from inside the room. But he was alone. He listened some more to make sure he wasn't just imagining things. But the sound would not go away. The panting would not stop.
Jim abruptly got out of bed and faced the side where his back was to. The sound was still audible, but there was nothing-no presence there.
He listened hard and approached the direction where he thought the sound came from. Ahh, it came from outside the room. The door was open and light and shadows filtered in. Something passed by, momentarily cutting off the light that streaked through the door.
Jim paused, his senses on alert. Whatever passed was large enough to blot out the light for a second, and yet it made no sound. The panting sound was still there, though. So Jim tiptoed towards the door to go out into the corridor, looking from side to side as he did so.
He guessed where the panting was coming from once he was sure there was no one in the corridor, and he headed for Jenna's room. The sound got stronger as he approached. Jim went in, ready for whatever emergency there might be.
What he saw was puzzling to him.
Susan was on the bed, cringing, breathing heavily and audibly. He could see she was shaking, her hands were positioned as if she was shielding herself. His daughter, Jenna, was on the floor, eyes wide, looking at the far corner of the room. His eyes followed her stare.
Nothing.
"Babe, what's going on? What's wrong?" he asked in succession as he picked his daughter up from the floor.
Jenna fought him the moment he touched her, as if whatever she was looking at was coming for her. It was happening again, whatever it was that happened that morning and brought his daughter her fever. Jim whispered assurances to his daughter, cradling her and pulling her close so he wouldn't drop her. He laid her down on the bed next to Susan, then he tended his wife.
"Honey? What is it?" he asked again. He was very worried now. Susan didn't answer. She just lay there, shaking. Jim tried to pry her hands away to reveal her face but Sue resisted with all her strength, as if the light was enough to do her harm. Jim had noticed that Jenna was burning up again and knowing how protective Sue was with her daughters, Jim used that instead. "Sue, Jenna's very hot again. She needs you. Please, what is wrong?"
But Sue still would not wake up from her catatonic dazed state. Jim did not give up, he had no choice. Leaving them here like his was not an option, and after felt like half an hour of coaxing, Susan finally showed signs of listening to him. She reluctantly removed her hands from her face.
The moment she saw Jim, she looked so relieved and she hugged him over Jenna. Then Jenna moaned, and Sue immediately bent her head to kiss her daughter profusely, whispering words of love.
Whatever it was that she or Jenna was afraid of, he didn't ask just yet. Instead, he made sure both were comfortable in the bed because Sue just wouldn't let go of her daughter. He was too afraid to ask, and Sue was clearly in no state to talk. He decided to ask his wife in the morning and let her rest on the side of the bed close to the window while he tended to Jenna.
Sue fell asleep after making him promise he would not leave and slept without steering until two in the morning, when she had to get up to use the bathroom. This time, she was persuaded to sleep in their bed.
"I will look after Jenna, okay? You need a complete rest. You look exhausted, Baby. You can't get sick."
"Maybe it's just that... we've done so much the past several weeks and I just must be very tired," she mumbled. Then she took a deep breath and smiled. "I'll sleep on our own bed, in our room. Maybe I just need to sleep in our own old bed."
When he peeked in on her later, he found her soundly asleep in their bed. And he was relieved.
Jim looked after Jenna the entire night. He could not sleep. His mind was filled with the strange happenings of the day. There was no explanation for them and he did not believe his family was going crazy.
Maybe it was just the move and the new house and the environment. They just had their house blessed, for goodness sake! These would all pass. He just had to believe they would get through this.
He could not believe the house and the land was haunted.
14
DAWN WAS AT its end and the sky had finally started to light up after what seemed to be a very long night.
Outside, the outline of the treetops could be discerned already and the lights surrounding the house began to lose power. A thin mist covered the entire area. Being near the river, humidity was more likely to stay longer here than in the urban areas. The mistiness of the morning was just one of the beautiful things about the place that had beckoned to the couple when they first visited the place.
Jim woke up after a short nap. He was seated on the chair that Susan had vacated. The only difference was that he was now facing the side of the bed and his legs were propped up on it. After Sue woke up and headed for their room, Jim decided to pass the time. He tried to read the book that Susan was reading. He fell asleep doing that.
Looking around, he found that Jenna woke up earlier than he did. She was staring at him, big eyes aimed at him.
"Good morning, Baby," he said in an upbeat pace. "How are you feeling?"
Jenna didn't answer. She just kept staring at him.
"I bet you're hungry already, aren't you?"
Again, no answer.
"Would you like something to eat? Maybe something like the soup daddy made yesterday?" he asked, curious by the continued silence.
Jenna still did not answer, her eyes transfixed on her dad. This time however, she gestured as if she was nodding. Jim took it as a yes.
"Tell you what, why don't you give me a few minutes? I'll go down and fix up something delicious for you," he finished, standing up and winking at his daughter.
He headed out, making a beeline for the stairs. In his head, he was already thinking what tasty meal he would make that would take less time. Something that Jenna would like. He heard his wife's voice call him when he was halfway down the stairs.
"Honey, come down. Breakfast is ready."
He slowed down. At least there was something ready on the table. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard a door upstairs open. Then came the sound of feet hurrying towards the stairs.
And then, there was Susan's voice... from upstairs.
"Don't go there! Don't go there! I heard it, too!"
It was Susan, still clad in the same clothes she was wearing the previous night, who was going down the stairs as fast as her feet cold carry her.
The hairs on his entire body stood up.
If his wife was the one coming down the stairs, who was in the kitchen?
If his wife was in the kitchen, who was coming down the stairs?
He started to get really scared. It grew every second. Sue, or whatever it was, was now slowly descending the stairs with a terrified look in her eyes.
"Honey? Come down," the voice from the kitchen called again.
Keeping his eyes on the woman descending the stairs, he distanced himself, rounding the end of the banister and hugging the wall. T
hen his eyes darted from the stairs to the kitchen, to the living room, and back. There was no one in the kitchen, the dining area, or the living room.
"You heard that? Tell me you heard that," he asked his wife, sounding like he was begging. Like he wanted her to confirm he wasn't just dreaming this.
"Yes," she answered in a low voice, her demeanor very cautious, but it wasn't him her eyes were questioning. It was like she was trying to find out if she was being crazy or not. Or...
If she was inside a nightmare again.
Their eyes met. Noone spoke, too scared for both their sanities to say anything. But once she caught up with him, they carefully threaded towards the kitchen. The voice could have only come from there.
Then they stood frozen as they saw all of their knives standing end to end, one on top of the other, spinning in opposite directions on every level! They showed no signs of stopping. As they watched, Jim thought they had to keep moving. So he forced himself to step backward, Sue stepped back with him as she was behind him. At three paces, the knives suddenly collapsed -- they all landed with the pointed end down, leaving all the knives upright on the stone counter.
It was so scary. What was more, when they finally were able to step closer enough, they discovered that the entire surface of the counter was covered in palm prints.
It was Jim who noticed the dirty-looking prints first before Susan, who gasped when she saw them, too.
The prints were of two sets. One pair was big, the other pair smaller. While the smaller prints were normal like that of a child, the larger set of prints was oversized, with palms the same size as an adult's but the fingers were very long -- almost an entire foot! At the end of each finger was a mark that looked like sharply pointed ends. Susan was shaking when she grabbed her husband's shirt from the back. But Jim just shook his head and touched the prints on the counter top. It was dirt, like mud but finer, like wet sand. It was still damp.
Susan gasped behind him so Jim looked at her right away. She was looking at the floor. His gaze followed hers. There were prints on the floor, too, but there was only one pair-that of a small child's.
They followed the footprints and it lead in a circle inches from each other, as if the owner of the prints was spinning. The trail of footprints started from the back door, focused on the kitchen, and just ended there. There were no footprints leading back to the backdoor, or to anywhere else. As if the owner of the larger hand prints in the counter who had no footprints had carried the child to wherever they were to go.
Both of them looked up as they heard soft footsteps heading down the stairs from above. Jim bent forward so he could see who was coming down. It was Faith, rubbing her eyes with one hand and holding her favorite rag doll with the other. Jim and Sue watched their daughter descend slowly. Once down, Faith looked up and, seeing them both there, spoke.
"Mommy, I'm hungry," the little girl said.
Jim did not reply. Susan was on the verge of tears.
It was because Faith's hands and feet were covered in dirt.
15
JIM WAS LEFT in the kitchen as Susan took Faith back upstairs to give her a bath. He found that the backdoor was not locked and was unsure whether he did so the night before or not. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, but he took pictures of the prints with his cellphone before cleaning up. Then he started to fix breakfast.
He brought the food up to Jenna's room and they had breakfast there. Jenna was still feeling disoriented. She mostly just stared at them, eating her food as if on autopilot.
The sun came up blazing and, at eight in the morning, the house had become considerably warm. And hour later, they had to open the windows and let the breeze in. It was hot. While Faith was left to play in her sister's room, Jim and Susan went down to do some chores. Sue took her husband aside.
"Jim, I'm afraid. It's creeping me out. I mean, you saw it! The knives, spinning on top of each other, the dirty handprints, the footprints, God, Jim! You even heard that voice!"
Jim saw the fear in his wife's expression. He was afraid, too, but if he let it show, he would contribute to her panic. The children, Faith at least, seemed to be unaffected.
"Listen, it's nothing. We just need to be more careful, make sure the doors are locked."
"Jesus, Jim! You're not suggesting that people were in our house, are you? That voice... that voice... it called out to you!"
He shrugged.
"What about your daughter? You saw her, she was dirty. And the small prints in the kitchen, those were her prints!"
"Honey, we don't know that," he answered, hoping he was right.
"What? Are you serious?"
"Look, all the prints lead to the kitchen. There's not a speck of dirt leading to the stairs or to her room."
"And there are none leading out of the house either. How'd you explain that?"
Susan was obviously affected by it all. Jim knew he needed to comfort her.
"I don't know, Babe, but we'll be alright," he said, holding her to his chest. "In the meantime, let's do what we can. Right now that means pulling ourselves together and finding answers." He still could not admit that the house was haunted. It could be people, or a magnetic field somewhere in the vicinity. There must be a logical explanation to everything that was happening.
Susan did not answer, but the stark terror that was mutely playing in her eyes had him wanting to crawl behind a rock and hide there.
"I'm gonna head over to the garage and see if we still have some of those locks, okay?"
"I need to tell you something," she said, raising her head up, and gazed into his eyes. "Yesterday, when you came down with Faith, remember that?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, before that, I was down here sitting, waiting for the coffee to be ready and someone, something, passed behind me. It cast a shadow, it was small so I assumed it was Faith. When I asked where she was going, she-it-answered me. In her voice. So I just assumed it was her who went outside to visit the garden. And then..."
"And?" Jim asked, hardly breathing now.
"And? And it was not Faith because when you went down, you were with her. You brought her down! And the shadow? It went against the light, not with it! And it could not have just been a shadow cast from another part of the house. It answered me!"
They stared at each other. Jim was the first to move by kissing her forehead and telling her that he was going to the garage like he had mentioned. In truth, Jim's head was flooded with many questions, none of which had answers. If all these were happening, what were they going to do? They had nowhere to go. They had no savings. Everything had gone to this house. What was going to happen to them if they leave this place?
"Talk to Faith, ask her about the dirt," he said, as he walked away.
16
HE WALKED OUT of the house and made his way to the garage, thinking it was going to be a short trip-it wasn't. The slight rain made the earth sticky, even with the grass. By the time he got to the garage, he had to scrape the dirt off of his soles.
He took his power drill, screws, and some chain locks that were left over from when the house was constructed. He had decided from the backdoor to the garage that he was going to fight for their house. There was no other choice. Before going back to the house, he scanned a route where the grass grew thick, where his feet would not get stuck in the mud. Having found one such route, he proceeded to head back to his house. But he stepped on something that was both hard and squishy halfway there. That was not what made him look down.
What made him look down was the sound it made when he stepped on it, like a mayonnaise or ketchup container with the contents being squeezed out fast.
But of course, it wasn't any of that. It was a squirrel, or part of it. It only had a body with the head torn off. The guts were ejected out when he stepped on it.
"Oh... shit," he exclaimed softly. It was gross. The innards were all out, the liquid contents splashing the side of his other foot. He decided to continue to the house, following
the route he had picked out. And then he came across three more dead squirrels-all with their heads torn from their little bodies.
He stared, trembling a little. Not again. Not again.
Then he squared his jaw.
He would come back to take care of those later. His priority was to secure his house.
He hurried down the path to his home, thinking that he would not tell Susan about the squirrels. He had already accepted by then that she was also experiencing her own nightmares. She did not need to know more.
SUSAN PRETENDED that she needed to clean up Faith's room and called her youngest daughter to join her. She needed to ask her questions.
She taught her how to fold her clothes, make up her bed, and organize her little closet. She couldn't find a nicer way to phrase her questions, so she started with the least obvious.
"Honey, what time did you go to bed last night?"
"I don't know. It was night already."
"After supper?"
"Yeah. We watched TV. And then Daddy and I came up. He waited for me while I brushed my teeth, then he left."
"And you went to bed after that?"
"Yeah. I slept right away."
"Did you wake up in the middle of the night? To drink, or pee?"
"No. Uh uhm," the little girl answered, shaking her head.
Susan could see that her daughter was answering her straight. She badly wanted to ask her about the dirt in her hands and feet earlier. Susan had helped her take a bath as soon as she saw it but did not ask her daughter where she got it. She was scared. To say she was confused was an understatement. She finished helping her daughter clean up without saying a word about where the dirt had come from.