Nightmare with the Neighbour

by Martha Greenwood

  Speaking of which, the bloody things were still on me. I guess I had gotten so used to the rashes they were giving me.

  "Thanks, Lyle. Could you cut these off, first?"

  He whipped out the knife he always carried in his back pocket and tenderly cut through the fibres.

  "Wait...if you had that knife with you the entire time..." and realisation dawned upon me like a sack of potatoes.

  "Shhh...slaves shouldn't talk so much. I knew I should have gagged you when I had the chance. Thank goodness for you that I'm such a lenient Lord."

  Overlord, more like. The Overlord of Eternal Darkness. He probably didn't even have to try and dress up for the Costume Competition.

  With every incision that Lyle made made I felt more than just my fat get loose. I felt all my anxieties and petty feelings like hate escape from my body. Or was that merely the strong rush of blood to my body? Either way, the extraordinary feeling secretly had me wishing I was all tied up again, simply so I could once again experience the release. Yes, I was finally going insane.

  I was feeling so light-headed that the next thing I knew I was sleeping on a bed of cotton candy...

  Chapter XVI: Doubt

  * * *

  I woke up to a murky, sinister morning, alarm clock clucking away like it was having trouble laying a particularly huge egg. After smashing it, I took a quick look out of my window. The street lamps were replaced with grotesque pumpkin heads, and all I could think was that it was such a waste of good food. I was regretting the amount of pumpkin pie and pumpkin soup that I was relinquishing to support Sparrowick's weird obsession with Halloween.

  At last October 31st, 2010 had arrived.

  Halloween. The day before the sacred All Saints Day. The day Sparrowick forgot it was a respectable suburban town and partied like a metropolis. The one day in the entire year when the walls separating our world from the netherworld loosened up, and unwanted souls haunt our precious earth. (Perhaps Lyle Parker had found his way to the human realm on a past Halloween, having lost his way to the graveyard whence he came?).

  Well, there was no denying the truth. Unfortunately I did not have the power to magically eliminate a day. I would have to endure the endless enthusiasm and tasteless turpitude. Still, to be on the optimistic side, there were a few things to look forward to. Daya and the Costume Competition, for instance. Her winning the generous cash price would mean endless free lunches for her best friend. Steven's violin performance would be something to look forward to, too. Come to think of it, the Parkers' Haunted House would be cool. After all, I had helped out (even if it was against my will).

  And the rumours about Lyle's father coming back were still very much rampant. I would be lying to say I was not interested in what effect this would have on Sparrowick's inmates, Lyle in particular, but also his mother. How does one deal with a husband they haven't seen for the past five years? Give them the official Parker treatment by tying him to a tree? Offer him tea and biscuits?

  Whatever happened, if I truly wanted to enjoy the town's festivities I would have to dress up. The outfit Lyle had bought me at the Halloween shop hung from my door. I sure would need my dear mother's help getting that monstrosity over my shoulders.

  "My little baby, you look so beautiful!"

  "You would say that, mum, wouldn't you? I think it's in your contract," I replied, glancing into the full length mirror behind us.

  "Absolutely, but I do mean it today. You are a hundred times more pleasant to the eye without fertilizer stuck in your hair."

  I smiled a little. The puffy, ugly dress actually looked rather elegant on my body. Topped with my graceful hairstyle and cute hat I looked like I had literally walked out of the Forsythe Saga. Heck, I was seething jealous ofmyself. Perhaps Lyle had intuitively known that the dress would look stunning on me. I made a mental note to thank him later.

  "You might even with the Sparrowick's Hottest Teenager! competition!" my mother continued. Oh yeah. How could have I forgotten about the world's most productive event?

  "Very funny. You have to enter to win. And you probably need to be a C-cup too."

  "Nonsense. Are you headed out then?" Mum asked when she saw me wearing my shoes.

  "I guess. I can see the guys playing a game of 'Bobbing Apple'. I'll be back for lunch!"

  "Wait!" Mum called out. I turned around inquisitively.

  "Just...be careful. Things should be fine during the day, but when night falls..."

  "Yes, I'll be careful of perverts. But frankly, this dress is not that revealing," I looked down at my Edwardian apparel.

  "That's not what I meant. Well, that too I suppose...but no. It's just...last time you went you came back with a lost shoe and lost memory," she said with a pained look on her face.

  "And a lost father. I know Mum. I promise to come straight back if I feel weird," I reassured her. She hugged me.

  "You're a brave girl. My brave girl. Our brave girl."

  "Ok Mum. You're strangling me." I said in response to her herculean hug. Why was she acting so strange? And then it struck me.

  She was acutely missing my father's presence. And his anniversary was multiplying that feeling.

  "I...I don't have to leave now. I'll go later," I said, pained to see my strong mother hurting so.

  "Don't be stupid!" she said reverting back to her normal self, "I'm in charge of the Pumpkin Cafe, be sure to come help out later, alright?"

  "I didn't know you were involved with the Fete!" I exclaimed.

  "There you go, then. I want you here at 11.30 am."

  "But Muuuuuuum, I don't want to work - "

  "Yes, yes, now go!" my mother said, pushing me out the door.

  Hell was at my doorstep. That, or Comi-Con. The multitudes of people dressed up as my worst nightmare (no, not Lyle) far exceeded my expectations. Bloody headless horsemen seemed to be all the rage this year, with everyone trying to be scarier than their neighbour. Stereotypically girls dress as sluts for Halloween, but not in this city. 'Fear' is the key word in this part of the UK, and lingerie isn't going to horrify anyone (except perhaps one's parents). I felt slightly out of place in my Edwardian dress, but I did spot a couple of Victorian Belles walking past me. In a way I admired how proud everyone was of their town's yearly tradition. Picking up my dress, I made my way to the heated showdown of Bobbing Apple.

  My exquisite hairdo was nearly ruined about three minutes into the game of Bobbing Apple. I got a little too into the game as I dunked my head into the tank of water biting into more apples than my opponent. Then the timer went off.

  The judge counted our apples. My opponent (who was a ghost by the looks of things) gave me a dirty look, confirming my suspicion that I had won.

  "Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. Ladies and Gentleman, WE HAVE A WINNER! Please give a hand to Lea Dupont!" shouted the judge (who was actually a grizzly bear). As a terrible joke, he offered me a fake and bloody stump of a hand, which I politely refused. I felt like a queen when everyone around me started chanting 'LEA, LEA, LEA'.

  "Aaaaaand as a prize, you get to keep all the apples you caught!" he continued, as everyone cheered. That was the best prize anyone could ask for. Apples are my favourite fruit.

  "Aaaaand as a special bonus prize, Lea Dupont gets a kiss from yours truly!" the grizzly bear judge said. I took that as my cue to strategically disappear into the crowd.

  Still, the game had been a load of fun. Maybe Halloween 2010 wouldn't be so bad after all. I mean, it's not like I had another father that could be murdered, right?

  "Lea! There you are! Wow, you look really really gorgeous!" Medusa hollered, stopping me in my tracks.

  "I'm sorry, who are you?" I asked, confused.

  "Don't be stupid Lea, it's me, your best friend, Daya?"

  Recognition lit my face up.

  "You are definitely going to win the competition with that. I couldn't even tell it was you, you look just like the real Medusa," I said after we exchanged girlish squeals, otherwise known as gre
etings.

  "A normal person would take that offense at that, but not me," she retorted, and we had a good old laugh.

  "So," I started, changing the topic to more interesting things, "How's your investigation of Lord Sparrowick's appearance in the town going?"

  "Pretty good," she replied, stepping by some children pleading for candy like their parents' lives depended on it. "According to all the gossip, he's going to show up at midnight tonight, at Steven's violin concert. Right before the fireworks display."

  I wondered if Lyle, Steven and Mrs Parker knew about this juicy titbit. As direct family they surely had priority over information regarding the man of their castle.

  "Cool," I said, "So, what's he going to do? Why did he come back?"

  "I guess the main reason would be that Lyle is officially a man, being eighteen years old. It's probably some boring legal stuff to do with inheriting the property. But listen to this - "

  "So why doesn't Steven get his hands on it? Why is he so quiet about everything?" I asked, strongly suspecting something awry.

  "Dunno. Most likely he wants to concentrate on his music career, that being the more lucrative option. But, get this - "

  "Midnight, eh? That's still a good fourteen hours away. If I've done the maths right, that is," I said, highly doubting myself.

  "I'm turning you to stone if you don't stop ignoring me!" Daya interrupted in her most Medusa-like voice. I nodded to indicate I was listening. "This is very secret information. I got it through my most devious cunningness, and stooped as low as blackmail, threatening and obscene flattery."

  "I get it. You eavesdropped on a conversation," I translated.

  "Well, you wouldn't be my best friend if you couldn't read my mind. Anyway, I was listening in on a veeeery interesting dialogue between Lillian Desai and her mother. Get this. She wants to prevent any chances of Lyle's father naming him the heir. Apparently she has legal documents to prove her claim that Lillian is the true inheritor!"

  "Ooo, the plot thickens," I said mysteriously, "and skeletons are found buried in closets," as we passed a fake skeleton that popped out like a jack-in-the-box.

  "What?"

  "Well, good work, but I know this. In fact, I'm helping Lillian with her true and noble cause. I texted her to say so last night."

  Daya, for an unknown reason, looked flabbergasted.

  "But what about Lyle? These lands are his, and the Desais are going to steal it. You should be on his side!"

  "Actually, I'm not sure if I even have a part in this whole charade. But as long as people are dragging me in, I'll play on the side of justice," I said nonchalantly, even though I thought what I said had sounded really cool.

  "Idiot! Justice is by Lyle's side," Daya said firmly, her snake hair looking awfully realistic.

  "Why would you say that? You don't know half the story," I said, thinking back to the tale of Morgan.

  "I don't need to. I do know that you should always be by your true love through difficult times. And you can't betray Lyle's trust, not when he feels the way he does about you," Daya ended, with some difficulty.

  I didn't comprehend much of what she said. True love? What was this, a Jane Austen novel?

  "If by feelings you mean we want to strangle each other, then yes, we have plenty of feelings."

  "Don't be stupid. The whole world can see it except you two. Come on," she pleaded, "Can't you see? If one day you marry him, you'll enter the glitzy world of socialites and high tea parties. You look the part already," she said, eyeing my dress, "If Lillian inherited, you'd never be a part of it. Not in this country anyway, not yet."

  Marrying the guy who pulled out strands of my hair because he had liked the 'lyrical sound of my scream'? Not bloody likely. I mean, this was Lyle we were talking about.

  "I'm grateful for the whole speech, but I'm still helping Lillian."

  "You'll change your mind by the time the night is done. I know you'll do the right thing and stick with your real friends, not ones you met a week ago. Anyway, I see the guys watching a gory film in the cafe there. Want to join them?"

  I declined, knowing how my constitution turned to water every time I saw blood. Horror films are another reason I hate this holiday.

  "Hello, Lea," came a smooth, dark voice from behind me. I turned around to see Lyle dressed in the same bloodied t-shirt and torn jeans from the other day.

  "You didn't dress up?" I questioned.

  "You must be blind. I'm the Hot Teen Serial Killer."

  "Never heard of it."

  "Clearly you haven't watched any good films lately. I need your help running the haunted house, people are flooding in, and our choice of decorations was a great success. Don't forget the foot massage you owe me after this," he ordered.

  "I'll be there. Umm...Thanks for the costume, everyone has been complimenting it."

  "No..." he said slowly, as if unsure of what he was about to say, "They are complimenting you," Lyle replied, smiling.

  He smiled? It wasn't a sarcastic smirk, or a lazy half-smile. It was a full, real smile.

  Oh god. Maybe Daya was right about something. But I wasn't sure what just yet. Only, the doubt starting invading my conscience. I was beginning to feel a tad guilty about supporting Lillian's plan to bring Lyle down.

  Chapter XVII: Truth

  * * *

  A hastily scribbled note was scrunched up in my palm. Meet us at 11.30 pm under the oak tree outside of the town plaza. There was no signature, but the handwriting was unmistakable.

  George Parker. The omniscient Lord of Sparrowick who so mysteriously left five years ago that one begins to question his innocence regarding my husband's murder. But I knew to trust him, and his wife, gentle Marie Parker – so delicate, and so tortured by her loneliness. After all, we were great friends in the past, and the doctrines tell us to 'Love thy Neighbour'. Even the children, Lea and Lyle could not stand a day apart from each other. Until the unspeakable occurred Halloween 2005.

  All this time I've lied to Lea, telling her that her father unexpectedly died of a heart attack. But forensics said it had been a bullet wound, or something like that. The whole thing was a terrible haze. Nobody knows who shot Leonard Dupont, or why. Nobody except a certain two teenagers, and their memories have been conveniently wiped by the trauma. As long as the amnesia protects Lea I'm a happy mother.

  I stood under the oak tree, all dressed in my mature costume that consisted of cat ears and a bucket of sour apple sweets to throw at annoying children. There were only two reasons Lord Sparrowick would want to meet me so clandestinely:

  He wanted to finish the job by exterminating me.

  He wanted to elope with the neighbour's wife (cliché, but it happens).

  He had somehow managed to piece together the clues I had been staring at for years and had solved the mystery of my husband's inexplicable death.

  I certainly hoped it was the third.

  My hair pricked up as I sensed the presence of two beings creeping up behind me.

  "Marie...? George...?" I called out hesitatingly.

  The two figures were clad in jet black cloaks, and their faces were covered by their hoods.

  "We are here to drink your soul..." came a man's voice.

  "Indeed..." echoed a female voice mystically.

  I scoffed. "I'm too old to be scared at Halloween, lived through far too many of these pranks. What are you two anyway, Death Eaters?"

  "Is this the way you greet an old friend, April? By insulting their costumes? We are Dementors, not Death Eaters," George replied, pushing down his hood, revealing a handsomely aging face topped with fine, rich mustache. His wife followed suit, shaking her long black hair that was speckled with grey strands. It was obvious to see where Steven and Lyle got their good looks from.

  "I told you he'd come back for me, April!" Marie said excitedly. I was surprised but obviously happy to behold Marie's joy. At least she had a husband who could come back to her.

  "I never doubted it," I said,
"Welcome back George," I smiled, and we exchanged a brief hug and a kiss, "I thought your entrance would be more dramatic. Everyone has been looking forward to it."

  "This isn't my real entrance. But let's get to business. Before I go, there is something I have to let you know. Both of you." He said, addressing me as well as his wife. "The two of you must promise me not to raise your voices when you hear what I have to say. It must also be kept a strict secret between the three of us. Do not play yourselves into the stereotype that all women are bad gossips."

  "Agreed," we both whispered.

  Silence reigned for what seemed to be centuries, but was really only a second. I found myself admiring Einstein's theory of Relativity.

  "I've finally figured out who murdered Leonard Dupont. My first priority was to tell you, April."

  I nodded to show I understood.

  "I'm ready. I swear I'll get my revenge. Tell me," I urged. Marie's breathing increased slowly.

  George looked troubled, "You have to agree to something beforehand." He continued.

  I did not appreciate his stalling. I was about to receive the single piece of information that would let me lead a peaceful widowed life. And yet the world insisted on slowing down.

  "Please allow Lea to get engaged to Lyle."

  I recoiled into the tree behind me, and Marie started talking angrily about something. My baby Lea? I'll never give her away. What did a poor seventeen year old have to do with this at all?

  "I refuse. Lea is only a girl. I don't want to sacrifice my daughter's future for something that happened in the past."

  "You never discussed that with me!" started his wife, but calmed down when she saw how serious George had become.