I sneered back at the child, “Oh, but you’re such a bore.”
Grasping the centre of the towel, I tore it from the mirror’s surface and threw it aside. Moonlight streamed around my body as I span around to face the creature that had invaded my home. I raised my cane and as I brought it down on her tiny skull, I allowed my body to fall to the floor, permitting the moonlight to rush her.
She let out a discordant shriek that fell far too deep in places to come from the body of any normal child. The sound abruptly tailed off and when I looked up, all I saw was dust floating in the shaft of moonlight.
In spite of myself, I dared to think, Is it over?
But as any horror movie aficionado will tell you, it ain’t over until you watch ‘em die. And I certainly wasn’t going to open myself up to any godawful sequels.
My body aching, I pushed myself to my feet and commanded my shaking legs to hold it together for just a bit longer. I hurtled towards my secret weapon’s hiding place, the place I’d hidden a souvenir from Mason, a place no one dared enter, let alone slept in any more – my Mother’s bedroom. Swinging open the door kicked up a sheet of dust that tumbled through the stream of moonlight cutting clear across the room from the window seat. I wasted no time admiring it, turning my attention immediately to the underside of the vanity where I’d tucked Mason’s blade.
I was so engrossed by the knife, turning it over in my hands and unsheathing it, that at first I ignored the tendrils of ill ease raining down on me from the ceiling. After all, by the time the hapless crew member notices the Alien’s saliva marking their shoulder, their fate is already decided. But my fate was not set – I was beginning to realise then that it never had been - and I wasn’t a fucking Red Shirt.
Stubbornly, I refused to look up at first. But, alas, when I heard the scratching, the scurrying across the plaster above me, my gaze was drawn upwards. And, of course, she was there staring back at me.
Her face was now fully transfigured, a sneering mess of teeth. When I finally acknowledged her, her jaw appeared to unhinge as she hissed at me, somehow revealing even more teeth, her mouth a field of rows upon rows of tombstones. She launched herself at me, knocking me onto my back with such force that my cane was sent hurtling out of my grasp. I held firm on the hilt of the knife though and when she immediately tried to sink her jaws into my bare neck, I thrust the knife upwards. My body was too addled by adrenaline to think much of aim but somehow I managed to wedge the not insignificant blade right through her mandible.
It did nothing to deter her. She thrashed about, jerking her head from side to side in an effort to dislodge the blade. Black liquid oozed from her wound and painted the room. I do not know what this vile liquid was but when it spattered my face it felt both ice cold and burning hot.
I was petrified of losing my grip on the now slippery blade handle. It really would be game over then. I needed to get out from under her. I began to lean my body to the left. She took the bait and pulled away to the right. Without warning, I pitched all of my force into the right, destabilising her just enough to get one leg free and aid her in her descent with a flailing kick. She went down but as soon as she was free from the blade, she disappeared from my field of view in a blur.
For a moment, everything was still. I stood rigid, gripping the knife tightly, inspecting every corner of the room. I saw new trails of black liquid circling around me but I could not even get a glimpse of her.
Now, if my life were a film, this would’ve been the part where the audience would begin screaming at the screen. Alas, I could not hear them. So focused was I on leaving no corner unmonitored, I stood more or less in the same spot she had attacked me the first time.
The scene burst into life once more as she dropped down onto my back with so much momentum that I was sent barrelling forward, smashing the mirror of the vanity with my temple. The child dug every single tooth and nail she possessed into my flesh. I cried out but the pain was so all enveloping that before long it snuffed out any sound I was capable of making. I threw my hand clutching the knife backwards, stabbing her side, her cheek, her eye. She was unmoved, letting out only a vaguely annoyed growl.
My strength draining away from me, I knew I was running out of time. But in my fractured reflection, a solution presented itself. Reflected in the broken mirror, I saw the window seat and the pool of moonlight streaming through it. With every inch of my skin and muscle burning, I launched myself towards the window seat, hitting the edge of the bed on the way down. I grasped at the sheets for support, pulling them clean off the mattress as I launched myself forward once more.
I landed in a heap face-down, drenched in moonlight and my own blood. The girl squealed and was finally compelled to free me from her rigor mortis grip. She tumbled over me, landing as a thrashing, smouldering mess before me and the window seat. She was desperately trying to right herself, trying to move out of the light that was attempting to devour her. Well, I knew that a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.
Pushing myself onto my knees and clasping the blade with both hands, I brought the knife down with as much force as my exhausted body could muster. Her screaming ceased as the blade pierced her chest. She stared into me with one remaining red carnelian, a look of betrayal on her face. I ripped the blade free only to bring it down again and again. Her whole body flinched and spasmed with every blow.
The light began to peel away tiny flecks of flesh, revealing blackened tissue underneath. I couldn’t bear to look at it. I focused on the blade and ending this nightmare.
Her chest wall was beginning to fall in on itself, revealing a crimson quivering mass inside. She launched a hand out towards me, drawing my gaze back towards her horrific face. Half of her skull had fallen away, what remained having shifted back to the face of a scared child with one bloody tear streaming down her cheek. Her lips were moving but at first I could hear no sound coming from them.
Then, faintly, I heard her croak the word, “Mama.”
“Stay dead!”
I turned the blade’s attention to the trembling red mass visible inside her crumbling shell. I struck it once. Her whole body arched and she threw her head back, unleashing one final, drawn out wail. As the sound rang out, the edges of what was left of her blackened and rapidly tumbled inwards, her entire degeneration taking seconds that felt like centuries. Eventually, there was nothing left but a distinct singe mark on the bedroom carpet and the fading echo of her cry.
The world paused. The darkness dissipated, light returned, there was the sound of the film carrying on in the living room as though it had never stopped. Ecstatic, I could not allow myself to enjoy the relief. I clamped a shaking hand to the wound quietly babbling on my neck. I dragged myself from my Mother’s bedroom to my own, leaving a trail of blood despite my best efforts to maintain pressure. I had no energy left and my limbs burned but I had to reach my phone. There were no two ways about it, I was going to survive the night. Beginning to feel light-headed, I slapped a clumsy hand that no longer felt entirely like it was my own around my dressing table. Only a few seconds of searching felt like days of fruitless hunting in a snow storm for shelter - cold. Mercifully, my fingertips finally sniffed out the black mirror and illuminated its surface. Warm, white light welcomed me as my vision began to cloud. I swiped for the emergency call function and pressed the phone to my ear.
A neutral voice, completely unappreciative of the seriousness of the situation, asked me which emergency service I needed. In that moment, they all sounded a bit insufficient given what I had just been through but I croaked the word “Ambulance,” and waited to be connected.
Involuntarily, I fell back on the floor, all of my strength now diverted to keeping the phone pressed to my face and my lips moving. I managed to give the operator my address, tell them that the door was locked and share a few choice words before I finally blacked out:
“God, I hate Halloween.”
Epilogue
For the first time in a long time, I was
laid up and dying to be doing anything other than lying in a bed all day. The nurses had to more or less pin me down when I woke up.
It wasn’t the first time I’d spoken to the police but it was no less nerve-wracking...especially with the statement I was going to have to give them. Naturally, they were bemused at first, desperately trying to keep their faces straight while I tried to do the same with my story. I expected that, I expected the disbelief but I was surprised by the anger that quickly followed. I stuck to my story, even if it was completely barmy. I knew what had happened.
After a procession of police officers, nurses, doctors and even psychotherapists by my hospital bed, things quietened down momentarily and then someone very different stepped into the ward. Someone that believed me. Someone that knew exactly what I had been through. Someone that offered me their business card and a job.
Their business card read:
Counsellor, Excorcist, Wendigo Specialist: Nina Quispe.
Despite everything, I was still left incredulous reading that.
When she saw the million and one questions written on my face, she began by answering the one, “Straight off the bat, I can tell you it wasn’t a Wendigo.”
The first conversation us two Ninas shared in that silent ward pulled my entire world from black and white to full techni-colour.
For starters she was able to clarify a few things about Mason’s knife. He’d never wanted to hurt me, he was just doing what he’d always done…
When I was finally discharged, the first thing I did was sign up for physiotherapy and archery lessons again. Both were incredibly painful to revisit after years of absence. I can’t shoot for shit now but I’ve made some progress fighting for just a shred more mobility in my legs. I can walk for a bit longer with my cane now but it still exhausts me. I’m never going to get to the point of ditching my chair completely but then I’ve always been way faster with a set of wheels, anyway.
Speaking of, I’ll tell you what I did do though, I finally got myself a new chair. I no longer have to squish myself into the seat, all hunched over, nor do I have to listen to the maddening squeak of those old wheels. It’s a nippy little thing and it’s made longer outings a lot more palatable.
Burn scar contractures are a bitch and I know no amount of work will make what happened unhappen. But what good does it do to dwell on that? I have all the motivation I need: To avenge the shit out of Mason. And so I string my bow, I keep shooting, I keep missing, I let the physio bend my limbs to the point I’m sure they’ll pop right out of the skin because I know I’ve got an awful lot of work ahead of me.
I finally cut my hair as well. I need to see where I’m going for one and for two, I’m so done hiding. I may be further scarred but I am still radiant and terrible.
Ms. Quispe tells me I’ll fit right in with my new colleagues.
I never thought I’d be the cemetery wandering type. Well, a lot changes when your best friend kicks the bucket.
I visit Mason a lot. After all, I know he’ll always listen and he won’t ever fuss now.
My Mum comes with me most of the time.
After the funeral, she told me, “I’ve taken some personal leave from work.”
“Wow, that was way more than three words. Guess you’re planning on sticking around then?” I spoke with a stiff jaw.
She looked at me, offering a small, sad smile: a definite look of ‘I deserved that.’
She sighed, “For as long as you’ll have me,” After a considered pause, she added, “I’m done running away.”
“Good,” I nodded, turning my face away as the tears took me by surprise, “Because you’ve got an awful lot to catch up on.”
Maybe one day I’ll tell her everything but, uh, you know there’s a lot to go through. And I don’t want to scare her off again…
She was crushed when she found out about Eeyore. I saved her from the goriest details. It’s still a bit soon to get a puppy but it’s not completely off the cards for the future. It’s something we both want.
It’s not all been Sunshine and Helianthuses though. Mum suggested I start seeing someone like Mrs. Sharma again.
I wasn’t exactly polite about explaining how much I hated that idea; I believe my exact words were, “Fuck off back to the other side of the planet so I don’t have to hear you start up again with that shite.”
I flounced from the house, threw myself into my chair and took off at stop speed. I’m not sure how long I was gone for, propelled by a white hot rage, but I spent at least five minutes with a wheel wedged deep into a pot hole and that took some of the wind out of my sails.
But when I returned home not long after that, my Mum was still there. Seeing her still there after how rude I’d been winded me. I tried desperately to avoid her gaze but she still found mine.
I guess she really meant what she said.
When Halloween night rolls around again, I shan’t be sat alone in the dark. Maybe Mum will sit up with me carrying on the tradition Mason and I began, staying up all night watching awful movies. Maybe she won’t. Maybe we’ll have a new dog – or even a cat – that could keep me company. Who knows, maybe I’ll invite a colleague or two over and make a night of it. Whatever happens, I’ll welcome the night with a bowl full of sweeties and my bow tightly strung.
-End-
I Hate Halloween Page 7