Neverlight

by Weatherer, Dan

  Dahlia’s grandmother had passed away only a few weeks previous and her mother was still caught in the throes of mourning.

  “Dahlia, please, you can’t say that to mummy right now. Nana is gone.”

  Dahlia looked confused. “No she’s not mummy, she’s in the kitchen. She says, please don’t be sad. She loves you very much.”

  “Now is not the time for your silly made-up games,” snapped her mother.

  Dahlia was hurt. “I’m not playing stupid games mummy; she is standing right next to you. She wants to give you a cuddle.”

  “Go to your room!” commanded her mother, as grief and frustration finally overcome her. “I don’t want to hear any more talk about Nana, or Sophie or poor Timmy or any more of your nonsense!”

  Dahlia retreated to her room. She was confused and spent the next half an hour talking to Sophie about how mean her mummy was being. Nana stood by and watched the whole thing and Dahlia (who cried herself to sleep later that night), could not understand why mummy could not see her.

  ***

  As Dahlia’s understanding of the world grew, so did her ability to perceive the things that walk amongst us unseen. Through a child’s innocent eyes, all of the people that she met she judged as good. A child has no concept of evil and takes everyone that they meet at face value (whether dead or alive). As her perception of the world matured she began to realise that not everybody that she came into contact with necessarily harboured good intentions.

  It was during adolescence that her gift exposed her to the darker side of the afterlife. Whether it was the onset of adulthood or the maturing of her emotions she could not say for sure, but she woke one day with an increased awareness of the other things that lurked in the shadows. She began to see the deceased with an improved amount of clarity and detail, and this started to trouble her deeply. Poor Timmy’s gammy leg now appeared to her as a maggot-infested hunk of mangled meat, and where once Sly Bob seemed indistinct and blurred, she now saw his pointed features and blood-spattered face in sharp detail. It was almost as though somebody had turned off a light in her head and thrown her entire world into darkness. The darkest secrets of the dead were now thrown into sharp relief, and Dahlia was forced to look upon them.

  There was to be no respite from her torment. Ghouls stalked the classrooms of her high school, preying upon the weak-minded, whispering into their ear and gorging upon their self-esteem. Dahlia saw this happening every day of her school life. She watched helplessly as grade A students succumbed to the touch of the silent spectres that haunted the halls. Those spirits that acknowledged her presence did so mockingly. She saw fewer and fewer of those good-natured ghosts the more that her gift seemed to mature.

  Parents and teachers watched in dismay as marks plummeted, behaviours shifted, and their darling children sink into a state of depression and malaise. Governors shook their heads and requested for more funding, but still exam results slipped. Dahlia had tried to explain what was happening to the numerous school counsellors who came and went during her five years at Sandyford High. All sat quietly taking notes, nodding in approval, giving Dahlia hope that finally, somebody in a position to act was going to listen to her and take what she had to say seriously. But all that happened was that the reports were filed and forgotten. As her classmates began to fall into the clutches of the restless undead, Dahlia began to withdraw from the world that had labelled her as a liar and a fantasist.

  ***

  The click-clack of Nurse Morris’ heels reverberated off the polished floors and sterile white walls of Meadow View. Loud though her footfalls were the sounds of torment still rang from several of the rooms that were situated in the west wing of the compound. Suddenly her footsteps stopped, and only the wailing remained.

  “Come along lady, your roommate is waiting to meet you. We need to get you processed before dinner.” Dahlia had stopped in front of one of the numerous doors that lined the hallway. It was labelled as 6A – Alisha Moore. The thing that inhabited 6A stared back through a thick glass pane with yellowed eyes. “You will find nothing of interest in that one,” began Nurse Morris. “Better you steer clear of the residents on this side of the corridor. These are our special cases.”

  Dahlia watched the thing behind the glass as it worked its thick purple tongue over jagged, discoloured teeth, and began to wonder whether the young nurse stood next to her saw the same Alisha that she did.

  “Come now, this way.” Nurse Morris resumed her impatient march and Dahlia followed after her. Though the nurse was young and relatively pretty, she harboured a coldness that chilled Dahlia to her core. She stopped abruptly and opened the door to her right. “Room 12B. Kayla Winters, meet your new roommate Dahlia Chambers.”

  Kayla was sat on her bed with her knees tucked tightly into her chest. Dahlia knew that the girl was of a similar age as herself, but the lines that crossed Kayla’s thin face made her look older somehow. “Hi,” said Kayla with a voice that sounded weak and underused.

  “Hi,” replied Dahlia. “This one mine?” she asked, pointing to the bare bed that lay against the wall nearest to the doorway. Kayla nodded.

  “I’ll send the orderly with your bed linen shortly. Kayla, you do your best to make Dahlia feel welcome.”

  “Yes Nurse Morris,” replied Kayla, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

  “Welcome to Meadow View,” said Nurse Morris as she turned to leave the room. Dahlia was about to ask when she could next see her mother, but the door to the room slammed shut. Nurse Morris grinned at the girls through the glass pane as she locked the door behind her.

  “Hey…hey! You can’t lock us in here! This isn’t a prison; it’s a hospital!” shouted Dahlia. The thin face of Nurse Morris disappeared. “HEY… COME BACK HERE!” Dahlia began to pound her clenched fists on the back of the steel door.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  Dahlia turned towards her new roommate shaking her hands that were already beginning to throb. “Oh, and why is that? They can’t keep us locked in here! We are patients, not prisoners!” she said.

  Kayla’s eyes returned to the floor. “They can and they will. If you keep acting up, they will tie you to your bed and pump you full of meds, you won’t know where you are or what day of the week it is. They will just leave you there laying in your filth, totally at the mercy of…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Of?”

  Kayla shifted uncomfortably and pulled her knees tighter into her chest. “I’ve said too much.”

  “No, you haven’t,” said Dahlia as she crossed the floor and perched herself on the edge of Kayla’s bed. “Whose mercy are we left for? The orderlies? The doctors… do they pump you full of experimental drugs, is that it? I’ve read about places like that online.”

  Kayla raised an emaciated arm and pointed towards the doorway. “No, they leave you to the mercy of those.” A mass of blackness was gathered in the corner of the room that the open door had concealed when Dahlia had entered. The mass twisted and contorted before them and settled upon the outline of the tall, crooked male figure. “Dahlia…” began Kayla with a note of fear in her voice, “… meet Mr. Chuckles.”

  ***

  The burly kitchen attendant took a long drag from his cigarette and tipped a ladle full of cream coloured slop onto Dahlias’ dinner tray. “Eat up kid; that'll make you big and strong.”

  “You aren’t supposed to smoke indoors or around food you know. It’s against the law…” Dahlia challenged. She attempted to read the nametag that he wore on his filthy apron but could not make out the letters as it was encrusted with thick layers of yellow grease.

  “It says Mitch.”

  “Well whatever, Mitch, I’m gonna report you.”

  Mitch waved his hands in mock panic. “Oh no, better call the cops l’il lady cuz I got a pack of ten here that I intend to finish before the end of my shift. Tell ‘em where I am, I won’t resist arrest, I’ll come quietly,” he joked.

/>   Kayla nudged her new friend in the ribs. “Hurry up, the line is getting tetchy.” Dahlia diverted her look of disgust from Mitch to the sea of angry faces waiting in line behind Kayla. “There’s a table over there, c’mon, leave it now.” Dahlia nodded and followed her friend to the deserted table in the corner of the institute’s canteen.

  “Is this what they always feed you?” asked Dahlia, stirring the sludge on her tray.

  “Uh-huh” mumbled Kayla, who had already begun to eat.

  “No wonder you’re so thin.”

  Kayla stopped eating and regarded herself for a moment.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just… you look tired.” Dahlia looked around at the rest of Meadow View’s assorted residents. There were around fifteen tables dotted around the hall, and most were in full use. Dahlia guessed that there were between fifty to sixty boys and girls under the care of Pinched Face and his cohorts. Alisha was not sat among them. “Come to think of it, you all look tired.”

  “I suppose. I never really thought about it,” nodded Kayla as she continued with her meal.

  “Anyway, I’m not here to talk about the food, I wanna talk about what was in your—our room.”

  Kayla stopped mid-gulp. “You mean Mr. Chuckles?”

  “Yes or whatever it is. Let me get this straight. You can see it?” asked Dahlia.

  Kayla nodded.

  “And it doesn’t freak you out that I can see it too?”

  Kayla shook her head.

  Dahlia sat back in her chair, her food untouched. “I don’t get it. I thought that I was the only one, Wjat is it that you’re in here for anyway?”

  Kayla shrugged. “The usual… are you going to eat that?”

  Dahlia slid her tray over to Layla. “Feel free, but I want answers okay?”

  “Sure,” nodded Kayla as she spooned the contents of Dahlia’s tray onto her own. “What do you wanna know?”

  “Tell me why you’re here. What’s your story?”

  “Okay, well… I don’t know where to start really. I wasn’t doing great at school, I hated being around the other kids, they were asses. I spent a lot of time on my own and my parents got concerned.”

  Dahlia raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s all it took to get you in here?”

  Kayla shook her head and continued. “Oh, I did some other stuff too. Like this one time, I opened my arms and bled myself all over the kitchen floor because Mr. Chuckles told me to. He said that he was feeling sick and that if I did that he would feel better. He didn’t though, he just laughed.”

  “Ah. Right. That’s kinda more like it.”

  “Oh and then I tried to burn the Methodist church down, the one near the railway station.”

  “And why did you do that?” asked Dahlia, who was becoming more and more intrigued by her new roommate’s colourful past.

  “Mainly because I saw a load of demons go inside. Turns out there were also a bunch of pensioners in there. I didn’t notice them, though.”

  Dahlia smiled. “Holy… how long have you been in here?”

  Kayla took another mouthful of food. “About two years, almost anyway.”

  “And Mr. Chuckles, how long has he been with you?”

  Kayla stopped eating again; the question seemed to trouble her. “I-I’m not supposed to say. I’m not supposed to talk about him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s not real.”

  Dahlia leaned forwards and lowered her voice. “If he isn’t real, why can I see him?”

  Kayla frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe you aren’t real either.”

  Dahlia threw herself back into her chair. “What?” Her raised voice caught the attention of the orderly nearest to the exit. Layla motioned towards him and shook her head. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But you’ve been in here far too long! Now listen to me, Mr. Chuckles is real, I can see him. I can see a lot of things like him. They’re everywhere; I think that you see them too. Am I right?”

  Kayla nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the tray of food before her.

  “I know that neither of us is crazy, I mean who knows how many more of us in here can see what we see?”

  Kayla shrugged. “I don’t know, no one really talks much to anyone else.”

  “And what’s the deal with that Alisha girl?”

  Kayla dropped her spoon, and it clattered to the floor. The hall came to a silent standstill. “You aren’t supposed to mention her,” whispered Layla.

  “Why not?” Dahlias voice rang out loudly, and her words were met with gasps of horror.

  Kayla shrunk in her seat. “Uh-uh, you shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Dahlia was confused and unnerved by the sudden silence. All eyes were now upon her. “I said, why not?”

  A heavy hand landed hard on Dahlia’s shoulder, and thick fingers tightened on her collar quickly. “This way lady, that’s enough disruption from you today.” The heavyset orderly yanked Dahlia from her chair and began to drag her towards the exit.

  “Hey, hey! You can’t do this! Somebody stop him, somebody help me!”

  The door slammed shut, and Dahlia disappeared. Nurse Morris appeared from the office that was situated to the left of the hall. “Okay everybody, back to your meals. That’s your drama for today done with.”

  Layla sat staring at the closed door that had swallowed Dahlia only moments earlier. She knew that the next time that she saw her friend she would be much more careful about what questions she asked in future.

  ***

  The orderly finished securing the last of the restraints and stood back to admire his work. The surgical chair had been heavily modified with the addition of ankle and wrist harnesses, both of which now held Dahlia securely in place.

  “Thank you, Evan, that will be all.” The orderly nodded and disappeared from the room as Pinched-Face came into view. “I didn’t think it would be too long before we met again. Nurse, will you prepare the treatment, please?”

  “Yes Doctor Thorne,” came the reply from the nurse who was standing out of sight. Dahlia smiled to herself, at last she had a name to put to the weasel-faced Doctor.

  “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t treat me like this! I’m gonna tell my mum about this, and she’ll tell the papers, you’ll be out of a job in days!”

  Dr Thorne’s face hovered inches above Dahlia’s. “Well here’s the thing, your mother signed an agreement giving her consent for any treatment deemed fitting to be administered under my care. She is troubled by your behaviour, as are we all. Such, how shall I put this, ‘intense’ psychological issues are in need of radical forms of treatment, wouldn’t you agree? Nurse, are we ready?”

  “Yes, Doctor.” A slender hand holding a nasty looking syringe entered her field of vision.

  “Thank you, nurse, that will be all.” Dahlia heard the sound of a door closing somewhere behind her but had the distinct feeling that she was not entirely alone with the doctor. She felt a sharp scratch on the inside of her right elbow and an icy coldness began to spread through her arm. “Now this is likely to be a little unpleasant,” laughed Doctor Thorne. “Who am I kidding; it’s going to be extremely unpleasant!” He leaned into Dahlia’s face again. “But you have brought this upon yourself, you know!”

  Dahlia’s head began to throb, and her vision began to slowly drain of all colour. She could still hear Doctor Thorne hissing something at her, but his words were lost amongst a maelstrom of fragmented whispers. She saw him turn to address a dark shape that had appeared from the murk to her left, a shape that wasn’t entirely human, a shape that she had seen before during the initial meeting in his office earlier that day. The Doctor and the dark shape turned their attention towards her and began to laugh.

  ***

  She was adrift in a sea of blackness.

  Spinning end over end at a speed that was impossible for her to comprehend. She was everything, and she was nothing. T
ime ceased to exist. A fear gripped her, snarling and primal. She was alone in this place, and nobody could hear her screams.

  ***

  “Dahlia. Dahlia, wake up. Please!”

  Dahlia’s eyes briefly fluttered open. “The…light…turn it off! Turn it off!”

  “Oh—of course. Hold on.” Kayla leapt from the bed and crossed the room to close the blinds. “Is that better?”

  Dahlia slowly opened her eyes again. Her head throbbed, and her heart beat like a drum. “Can I have a drink?” she gasped. Kayla passed her a glass of water.

  “Try this. Slowly. Just sip it.”

  “How long was I asleep?”

  Kayla looked towards the floor. “You’ve been in here three days but before that you were gone another two. Probably up on the ward somewhere?”

  Dahlia rubbed at her aching temples. “The ward?”

  “Yeah, it’s where they keep you when they give you the goo.”

  Dahlia narrowed her eyes at her friend.

  “That’s what some of us call it. I guess that is what you had given the amount of thrashing and moaning I’ve had to put up with!”

  As she finished the water Dahlia’s mind began to clear, and the horrors of her medically induced purgatory began to tug at the fringes of her nerves. Suddenly, her memory of the events preceding her drugging snapped into sharp focus. “That Doctor, the one with the pinched face—Thorne, he knows.”

  Kayla looked up, suddenly surprised. “Knows what?”

  “About all of this! Mr. Chuckles, the figures that we see, the dead people that follow us around sometimes. He knows about it all!”

  Kayla smiled. “Of course he does silly, it’s in our notes.”

  Dahlia shook her head. “No, not like that. The black mass that I saw in his office before they brought me here. I figured only I could see it; then I found out you can too, you must be able to as you can see Mr. Chuckles right? Well, I saw Dr Thorne talk to something like that before I blacked out. They were laughing; I can still feel their eyes on me.”

  “Are—are you sure?” stammered Kayla. Dahlia sat up and felt every muscle in her body protest at the rashness of her sudden movement.