by Kris Calvert
Ray pulled his pants from his ankles and buttoned up before placing his hands on his hips—this time, not to entice me. He rubbed his hands through his hair and around the weekend stubble on his face before bending at the waist to hold his crotch. “I’m trying really hard to stay with you on some of this shit that you seem to be going through, Liz. I don’t know what’s up, but you pushing me away at every turn isn’t going to bring us together. I can guarantee it will tear us apart.”
I nodded.
“Are you calm enough to explain that?” he asked as he pointed to the table.
I shook my head no.
“Will you at least come to me when you’re ready? I’m going to dig deep and give you as much space as I can to work all of this shit out in your head. Okay?”
I nodded yes.
Ray took a deep breath and left the room and I sat down against the wall, dropping my face into my hands to cry.
Catastrophe flooded my mind. Park Ave was haunted, I was crazy or worse, it was haunted and it was making me crazy. Every penny I had was trapped inside these old walls and I knew I couldn’t just walk away as the frightened tenant had done. I was here for the long haul. I wanted to pack a bag and get a hotel room, but I knew my credit cards were teetering on the limit and my debit card was pretty sad as well. I felt trapped in more than one way. Still, the old place called to me at times. I knew I was supposed to be inside the house, but something or someone didn’t see it that way.
Another chill raced through my body and a stiff wind blew past my face. Pulling myself together, I walked to the window and shut it. We were done for the day—and in more ways than one. I couldn’t explain what just happened any more than I could explain the message on the phone. The one thing I could wrap my head around was that Ray thought I was losing my mind and I wasn’t so sure he was wrong. A visit to a talented psychiatrist was probably in order, but if I couldn’t afford a hotel room, I really couldn’t pay good money to have someone with a bunch of degrees probe me about my feelings.
This was real. I had the bruises to prove it was. What I lacked was the ability to explain it to someone.
With a swift bang to the window frame, I was able to dislodge it and slide it closed before locking it with the old hook and eye on the top of the sill. I stared out the window looking for answers. The day was nearly gone and the dark clouds that always seemed to make the fall weather drab had started to move in.
I turned to survey the room, still trying to catch my breath. I wanted to think about anything other than what just happened. I closed my eyes only to see the face of the drooling man with the slicked back hair. I inhaled quickly, shaking off the image and decided right then that whatever wanted me gone was going to have to kick me out.
Giving the room one last glance, I noted we’d cleared out most of the first half of the third floor. I hoped that later tonight when I went to Ray to beg for forgiveness, the fact that we’d managed to make some headway would help ease the pain of what I’d put him through. “Dear God,” I said aloud. “What is happening to me? Please, please, help me.”
Dropping my head, I turned out the light, ready to shut the door on my latest heinous experience when a glimmer in the corner of the room caught my eye. The wallpaper was peeling and I checked it out with caution—one rat in the kitchen had already mauled me, I wasn’t going for round two.
There was nothing of consequence to see and as I stepped away from it again, I saw the loose scrap of wallpaper move, as if a breeze was taking hold of it.
Squatting to get a better look, I placed my hand in front of the peeling paper and felt the draft that was the cause of the supernatural phenomenon. I stood and surveyed the room. The wall we were taking down was on the opposite side—the inside wall. The outside walls were to remain. But where was the cold air coming from? If we had a hole in the roof, I needed to know before winter came.
I pulled the wallpaper gently at first and as it took hold, began to peel back a two-foot section. Tearing harder, I exposed a wooden panel. The airflow was stronger and coming from under the floor. I knew what I had to do.
Grabbing a crowbar from the stack of tools sitting by the door, I jammed its flat edge into the baseboard and yanked. The rotten wood cracked and lifted away from the wall in a five-foot strip. I didn’t have to wonder what it was any longer. It was a door. There was a door hidden behind the years of wallpaper and crud.
Sliding my fingers under the remaining sheets of wallpaper, I tore up and away from my body, exposing another three feet. I could already see there was no knob, but there was a keyhole and I jumped to my feet immediately, running down the one flight to my office.
Opening the middle drawer of my desk, I grabbed the set of seven skeleton keys I’d received at closing. I took the stairs two by two in a rush, anxious to see what was inside.
I worked my way through the keys systematically. Each one was a little different than the next, but none of them fit. Finally, the last key slipped into the lock and a shiver went down my spine. I was so excited, I found myself panting at the idea of finding something secret at Park Ave. Each breath I took showed itself to me in a puff of white mist. It had become cold now that the sun was beginning to set.
Two turns of the key, and a distinct click sounded out through the room.
Still trapped by wallpaper at the top, I grabbed a ladder and began to pull away the last layers that stood between me and the hidden secret of my house. The last strip hung on as I slid my hand under the final band and with a pop, freed the door from its confines.
Moving the ladder away, I opened the door. The rusty hinges let out a groan as I swung it wide, my body nearly shaking with adrenaline.
The room smelled of peppermint and mildew and I was thankful the overhead fixture cast just enough light into the closet sized space so I could see what was inside.
Neatly stacked and covered in dust, there wasn’t much there. Three dresses that seemed to be from the early nineteen hundreds and an old sweater hung above a brown leather suitcase, a fabric box and a burlap sack tied at the top.
I pulled them out, one by one. The suitcase contained a small figurine of the Virgin Mary, the box contained an ancient baby doll, one of its eyes missing. I wondered if the previous owners at the turn of the century had children. Finally, I opened the burlap bag. Inside I found a small stack of drawings in pencil. Beautiful, they were mostly of roses. I shuffled through them quickly and sat them aside to get to the heavy object that weighed the bag down. Carefully pulling it from the burlap, I could feel it was a picture frame. Excited, I hoped it would contain a clue as to whose closet I was rummaging through.
Confused, I held it up to the light. It was a small oak frame with black glass. There was no photo, and when I turned it over to see if perhaps one was hiding inside the frame, I realized it wasn’t a picture frame at all.
“Liz?”
Ray called to me from the bottom of the staircase and I hurried out the door to meet him. “Yes?”
“When you’re finished up there, get a shower. We’re going out to eat. I want to get out of this house for a while.”
“Okay,” I shouted down. “I’ll get in right now.”
Rushing back into the room, I gathered all that I’d found and arranged it in the suitcase before turning out the light and shutting the door to the third floor project.
Rushing down the stairs, I opened the door to my office, setting the suitcase just inside. I’d take a look at it all again tomorrow with a clearer head and a room full of sunlight. It wasn’t a good idea to do anything at Park Ave in the dark.
11
BEAUTY
The sunlight streamed through the windows of my chambers and the bars that separated me from the outside world cast an eerie shadow across the floor. My head throbbed and my body ached. I sat up in my bed slowly and noticed something different about my room. Except for the bed in which I’d awoken, it was empty. My armoire gone, my writing table gone and then I realized, my clothes, my
drawings and my mirror would surely have disappeared as well.
Pulling my sore body from the bed, I did my best to piece together the events of the day before while I paced the room looking for anything Anna may have left behind. Surely she was the one responsible—that much I could recall.
I pulled the sweater hidden under the messy bedclothes over the white gown I’d worn yesterday. I was cold. I was afraid. My door pounded with a force that shook the iron latch. I jumped, hesitant to speak.
“Beauty?”
It was Edmund’s voice and I rushed to whisper through the lock. “Edmund?”
“Move away from the door.”
Doing as I was instructed, I moved to the window and glanced down, only to see Christine and Zara getting in a carriage. Zara carried with her a brown suitcase. Christine held nothing but her baby doll in her arms. Why were they leaving?
Edmund burst through the door, startling my already frazzled nerves. “Oh Edmund. Do you know what happened to my things?”
I knew by the look on his face that he had as much information about my now barren chamber as I did. “What happened in here?”
“I don’t know,” I said as I began to cry. “The queen came in yesterday. She pulled my hair and choked me. That’s all I remember. I awoke this morning and all my things are gone. They’re sending me away, Edmund. I don’t want to go away. I don’t want to go away…” I said lowering my head and voice. “From you,”
“Where?” Edmund asked. “Beauty, do you remember anything?”
I shook my head. “I only remember feeling afraid. And then I looked into my mirror and I saw you. And then I saw her. Then it was dark.”
“Are you ill? Do you hurt anywhere?” Edmund asked as he took me by the shoulders and looked me over.
“My head hurts and my body aches, but really, I’m just frightened. I’m frightened of what’s to become of me. Oh, Edmund,” I said as I took his hands in mine and brought it to my cheek. “Take me away from this place. If I could just show you—if I could only make you see.”
“Beauty,” he began. “I’m going to find out what’s going on. I’ll be back.”
“Will you look for my things? I need my mirror. I can’t survive without my mirror.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “But stay put. If anyone comes for you, tell them I said that you should stay here. I want to examine you. Understand? Now say it back to me.”
“I can’t go anywhere. Edmund wants to examine me.”
He shook his head as if the delivery of my line wasn’t convincing. “Good enough. I’ll be back.”
Closing the door to my room, I heard the loud click of the lock on my door. I was alone again with nothing but my muddled thoughts. Sitting on the bed I searched the darkest corners of my brain looking for clues, thinking of anything. A strong breeze blew through my room and I once again went to the window, remembering Zara and Christine.
The carriage was gone, and I surmised that they were as well. But where—and why?
The whereabouts of my friends was barely a fleeing thought when the lock clicked and the door flew open. The queen and Solomon walked to me as if I was about to be punished.
“Get up,” she said.
I stood and said exactly what Edmund had told me to. “I can’t go anywhere. Edmund wants to examine me.”
“Edmund has no say in the matter anymore. Now get up. You’re coming with me,” Anna hissed through her stained teeth.
“No.”
“No?” She drew out the word in disbelief. She apparently didn’t hear me the first time, and so she repeated her question again. “No?”
I sat silent. I wasn’t dignifying her question with a response.
“Get her up and out of here, Solomon. I’ll meet you there.”
I ran to the corner of my room and scratched at Solomon’s face as he picked me up and carried me from my chambers, kicking and screaming. I shouted as loud as I could, but I knew no one could hear me. No one cared.
In the time it took Solomon to carry me down the hallway, I thought about what was to become of me. When he took the last turn toward the bath, I knew.
“Strip her naked,” the queen ordered Solomon with her bony finger. “And strap her wrists and ankles to the chair. Then leave us be.”
Solomon blinked at me as a wry grin passed over his lips. “With pleasure,” he whispered under his breath.
“Please…no.” I begged through desperate sobs for Solomon not to take my dress—not to strip me down. But with one motion, he grabbed the front of my white gown and ripped it from my body, leaving me naked and sobbing in the corner.
I no longer fought. I had nothing left. No clothes, no mirror, no drawings, no dignity. I was stripped not only bare, but to my naked soul.
Solomon picked me up and I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear to see him enjoy himself as he tied my wrists and ankles to the cold steel chair. Turning my head, I sobbed and asked him only one question. “Why?”
“I’m just following orders,” he gruffed.
“Get out!” Anna shouted. I flinched at her words and opened my eyes long enough to see Solomon leave the room.
“We can do this the easy way. Or we can do this the hard way. It’s all up to you,” she said.
I opened my eyes when I heard the water and knew. The morning I’d walked in on the queen dousing Zara from head to toe—it was about to happen to me as well. “I’ll be good,” I whispered.
“Smart girl,” Anna said with a wicked smile. She was pure, unapologetic evil. I could smell it seeping out of her pores every time she came near me.
With a large brush and a bucket of soapy water, the queen began to scrub my body from head to toe.
Silently sobbing with each stroke of the rough brush, I promised myself that when I was free, as the king had promised, I would never allow myself to be treated in this manner ever again.
Solomon shoved me back in my chambers in a new white gown. My wet skin tightened into goose bumps as my soaked hair dripped on the floor. Climbing under the pilled blanket that was still on my bed, I shivered violently as my body tried to warm itself.
Turning my face from the window, the fresh air caused my body to quiver all the more. I’d closed myself off from the world around me. So much so, when I found Edmund sitting at the edge of my bed, I jumped.
“When did you come in to my room?” I asked.
“Just now. You were sleeping.”
“I’m not sleeping, Edmund.”
“I have something for you,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I found your drawings and your—well, your mirror?” he asked holding up my gateway into the darkness.
I gasped at the sight of my belongings. “Yes.”
Taking the stack of papers from one hand and the mirror from the other, I held them tightly against my chest. “Thank you, Edmund.”
He stared at me, before brushing a strand of wild hair behind my ear and a wave of butterflies filled my stomach. I knew he felt it too. But he wouldn’t say it. His gentle touch said everything he couldn’t.
Dropping my prized possessions onto my bed, I took his face in my hands and kissed his lips. “You’re the one, Edmund. You don’t know that, but I do. I know that you’re the one.”
“The one what?” He asked, not taking his gaze from mine while trailing the back of his soft hand down my cheek. “You’re a mystery to me Beauty. I shouldn’t be drawn to you the way I am. It’s wrong, but perhaps someday, we shall be together—find our own happily ever after.”
“Yes. But why is it wrong?” I asked, as I felt the tears fill my eyes yet again. “You feel it. I know you do. Let me show you.”
With my legs on the ground, I sat next to Edmund on the bed and placed the black mirror in front of us. “You know, Beauty. This isn’t a mirror. It’s a wooden frame that’s black on the inside. You need glass with silver on the back in order for it to be a mirror.”
I said nothing, but held my connection into darkness in my hands, placing i
t squarely between his lap and mine. “It’s not that kind of mirror, Edmund.”
“Then what kind of mirror is it? he asked.
“Edmund, I need you to clear your head. Think of nothing. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know if that’s even possible. The conscious mind is always thinking. Even when we’re sleeping.”
“Try for me.”
I held the oak frame steady and watched our faces in the darkness. My wet hair became a golden mound of perfect curls. My crown sat exactly where it belonged. Next to me, Edmund smiled—the perfect crown upon his head. As we watched the reflection together, Edmund turned to me in the darkness, taking my face in his hands and kissing me softly, gently. I sighed and smiled back at him.
“Whoa!” Edmund shouted as he stood abruptly and began to pace the room. “What was that?”
“It’s you Edmund,” I replied calmly. “I’ve been waiting all this time for my prince to rescue me and it’s finally going to happen. Don’t you see? It’s you.”
“This is insane,” he said. Pausing only to rub his hands across his face, he looked back at me even more confused than before. The wheels in his intelligent mind had begun to turn and he now knew what I knew.
“Tell me what I just saw. Explain it to me. Because that wasn’t real.”
“Of course it’s real,” I whispered as I stood. Stroking my hand down his arm, I could feel his muscles flinch under my touch.
“Beatrice,” he said.
“Beauty,” I corrected.
“Beauty, tell me what just happened. What kind of mirror is that?”
I took the mirror and the stack of drawings and placed them back in the bag he’d brought into the room. Walking to the wall, I pulled at the loose floorboard. I wanted all of my drawings.
“What are you doing?”
“I have more drawings tucked away under this floor.”
“Beauty, please.” The panicked look on his face made me feel sorry for him.
The door flew open and the queen and Solomon were back. “Once again, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Anna said.