When Janet didn’t reply, Sara yanked open the door and shone the beam of the flashlight inside. Sure enough, Janet was inside, with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees.
“Janet, wake up,” Sara said sternly. “What are you doing down here?”
Janet woke with a start. She blinked at her mother, then began to cry.
“Lily told me to hide,” she said. “She said there was something bad.”
Sara put her hands on her hips.
“This imaginary friend stuff is getting tiresome,” she said. “Come on. Back to bed. Not to mention you gave your brothers quite the scare by going into their rooms on the way down here."
Janet didn’t move. Sara reached inside the cupboard and roughly pulled her daughter out by both arms. Ignoring the yelp of pain, she picked Janet up and kicked the little door shut.
"If you keep hiding in there I am going to have to bolt that thing shut Janet." Sara could feel Janet's tears soaking into her shoulder. It might be time to get Janet some help.
Sara dismissed the thought for another time as she tucked Janet back into bed.
“Now, please, go to sleep,” Sara said. “I’m very tired. If you keep this up I am going to have to tell Lily she can't play with you anymore.”
"We'll behave momma, pinky swear."
Sara stopped back by the boys' room. They were back together in the same twin bed. How they fit comfortably was beyond her.
"It was your sister boys. She had another episode. Now please can we all get some sleep?"
"But mom it was bigger than Janet..." Sara cut the sentence off with a motion of her hand.
"Good night."
~~~~~
Each day was pulling her deeper and deeper into a hole she didn't feel like she could get out of. She was so tired and all of this hijinks on a regular basis was not helping. She dragged herself into the bedroom and collapsed on top of her bed without even bothering to climb under the sheets.
Janet is really starting to act out strangely, she thought to herself, yawning and rolling over. Maybe I should ask Paige if she knows any good child psychiatrists around here. Janet should really see someone. Sara felt a pang of guilt. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with her.
Sara thought about what John had said, about the house. She frowned as a fresh wave of anger filled her body. He doesn’t know what kind of time I spent finding this house – it’s not like Kurt had a huge policy!
This was the only place we could afford, and I’m certainly not going to take a cut by selling it. He’ll just have to get used to it, she decided.
Sara was just drifting back to sleep when she heard the voice – it was distinctly male, and much too old to belong to either twin.
“You’re a terrible mother,” the whisper came right beside her ear.
Sara bolted up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp; looking around the room with her heart thudding so loudly she probably wouldn't have heard the voice even if it spoke up again.
“Who’s there?” Sara called loudly. She sounded much braver than she felt.
The room was silent.
I must have imagined it, Sara thought as she reluctantly flicked the lamp off. I must be hallucinating.
As she lay down to sleep, Sara had a very hard time believing she’d imagined the voice. But for her sake she tried very hard to chalk it up to the paranoia that seemed to be running rampant through the house that night.
Chapter Seven Tea and a Story
The next morning, Sara took James, John, and Janet to the local schools to register them for classes. James and John would be starting eighth grade, and Janet would be in the third.
After an exhausting morning filling out paperwork, Sara treated the kids to a fast-food lunch. She felt an immense amount of guilt about the way she’d been acting.
“I’m sorry I’ve been weird, you guys,” Sara said, reaching onto Janet’s tray and plucking a French fry from the box. “I think it’s just the stress of moving.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” John said.
“Yeah,” James echoed.
Janet didn’t say anything.
“Janet, honey, are you okay?” Sara reached over and pushed Janet’s dark bangs away from her forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel good,” Janet said. She looked down into her soda. “My tummy hurts.”
“Maybe we should take you to the doctor,” Sara said, frowning. She hadn’t yet abandoned the idea of a child psychiatrist, either – Janet had always been sensitive, and maybe the move had been harder on her than Sara had realized.
“Okay,” Janet said, with her usual calm demeanor.
After lunch, Sara brought her children home.
“I’m going to start cleaning out the boxes in the hallway closets,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the prospect of the task ahead. “The previous owners must have left in a hurry – there’s a ton of random stuff upstairs and downstairs.”
"Don't forget the boxes we moved out of our room mom and if you find anything cool I wanna see it." John's voice was muffled from his head being inside the fridge.
"I just fed you boy, get out of there." Sara laughed but at the same time felt a small coal of rage start burning inside her gut. These kids were just never satisfied. "Go play outside while I do this please."
“Can we go bike riding?” James asked.
“If you take your sister,” Sara replied. “And please, keep an eye on her.”
“Okay,” James said. “Come on, Janet.”
As Sara watched her children leave the house, she felt a sudden surge of affection for them.
They’re good kids. They really care about each other.
Maybe she should think about seeing a therapist as well after school starts; her emotions just seemed to be going all over the place.
There had been boxes in quite a few of the rooms upstairs and downstairs when she had purchased the house. The real estate agent said they came with the house and the previous owners didn't want to take them.
With that in mind Sara didn't really expect to find anything too valuable but she was very happy about the antiques that had been left behind so maybe there was something at the bottom of one those grimy cardboard boxes.
At the very least it was a good way to waste time and even a few old pictures or notes would make for an interesting discovery. She hadn't been in the mood to work lately and while the bank account would soon need some sprucing up, Sara just couldn't focus on the words on the page without drifting off for hours at a time.
Sara decided to start with the closet under the stairs. She had moved as many boxes as she could into the tight room so they wouldn't be taking up prime real estate in other places in the house.
After Janet had revealed her hiding spot, Sara had tried putting some boxes there but her daughter always found a way to push the things out so she simply stopped trying to block the space from her sleepwalking delinquent.
A groan left her mouth as she pulled the closet door open and stared at the stack of the boxes in front of her. It seemed to be a monumental task.
Maybe it would be good idea to let the kids go through it. They would be sure to bring her anything that caught their interest and everything else she could just go through later. She reached for the top box and gave it a yank. Dust swirled around her face and she held hard onto the box as she held her breath trying not to sneeze.
Knock Knock Knock
The knocking almost caused Sara to jump out of her skin.
"One second please!" Sara backed out of the door frame and bumped the door close with the box still in her hand. The knocking came more frantically as she tried to find a place to set the box down without hurting the contents.
"I'm coming." Gosh if someone wanted her so badly they could wait a few minutes. Sara placed the box down next to the stairs and went to the front door. Opening the door, she was greeted by a warm breeze and an empty porch.
"Hello," Sara looked around the porch
but didn't see signs of anyone being close by and there was no sign of the children. A loud crash sounded from the hallway and Sara jumped into the front door.
"What the..." Looking down the hall she could see the closet door had not closed all the way and a box had tumbled out onto the ground. She laughed to herself.
I really should have made sure to close that door all the way.
The last thing she needed was a cascading waterfall of old papers and boxes filling up the first floor of her house. Taking one more glance outside, Sara closed the front door and moved to the fallen box. The box wasn’t labeled and she saw immediately that it was filled with old books and photo albums.
This could be interesting, Sara thought as she lifted the top book from the stack. It was a leather-bound book, with a single gold swirl on the front. She opened it and held it up to the light, peering down at the pages.
She was shocked to discover the pages were full of handwriting – it was a diary. Sara closed the book and checked carefully for a name, but there was nothing – not even initials.
For a moment, she stared down, wondering whether she should read someone’s private thoughts. But they left it here, she told herself. They obviously didn’t care about their privacy, and who knows? Maybe it’ll tell me something about the house.
She bit her lip and flipped the diary open, starting at the beginning of the entries.
Jan. 23rd
Mark and I had another fight today.
It was about the children.
It’s always about the children, now.
He said he doesn't believe I am trying hard enough. Who does he think he is?
Mark thinks it’s enough to be around on the weekends, taking the kids out while I go out for a walk by myself. He thinks I should be content with an hour of alone time, when he spends practically the whole week away from the house during the day.
Sometimes I hate him.
Sara blinked down at the pages, biting her lip. A strange feeling of dread welled inside of her chest, and she closed the diary. But the curiosity was too much. Besides, the kids weren’t home anyway – it was the first time alone she’d had in days.
Taking the book and kicking the box against the wall, she headed to the dinner table. In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and settled down in a char.
In the light of day, the diary looked worse than ever. It was moth-eaten and dusty, with pages ripped out. The fact that it was obviously old gave Sara some comfort. These people have probably been dead for a long time, she thought.
Somehow, thinking that made her feel less like a spy, and more like a researcher.
Sara opened the diary again.
Mar. 1st
It was my birthday today. Last year, there were cards from the children outside the door and Mark had cooked breakfast. He had even let me pick out something from the catalogue.
Mark and the kids took me out to dinner. They also did all the cleaning. But then I blacked out - I had been stressed. Everyone knew I was doing much better this year but today?
Nothing.
No cards. No presents. I had to make breakfast for Peter and Lily. They are just like their father - worthless.
They don’t care about me.
I work so hard for them! I do everything for them, I gave up my life for them! Mark is turning them against me.
Sara blinked. She frowned, gnawing on her lip until blood spurted into her mouth. Something about the names listed in the entry were familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The entry was deeply chilling, and Sara shivered despite the warm air of the kitchen.
The worst thing was, reading these entries made Sara empathize. Being a mother is hard, she thought, flipping through the stained pages. But something had obviously happened to this woman to make her feel the way she did.
And now Sara was more curious than ever before.
Sara flipped past a few more entries.
Jul. 3rd
Peter and Lily are testing me.
At least, that’s what Pastor Skip says at church. I think Mark went behind my back and talked to him, because today’s sermon was all about how God tests us.
Well, I’m sick of being tested.
When I woke up this morning, the kitchen was a mess. Peter and Lily had gotten up early, and tried to make themselves breakfast. The floor was covered in cereal, the stove was covered in raw eggs, and the one of them had dropped the milk bottle. Everything was ruined.
They didn’t even care. He cried and cried. Always crying.
And Lily? Always in that damn cupboard. She hates me. She won’t even hug me. When Mark is home, she clings to his leg.
She hates me, and I’ve done everything for her.
Children ruin your life.
A cold chill ran down Sara’s spine and she shivered. Suddenly, she knew – the house was haunted. Janet had been talking about “Lily” ever since they’d moved in…her imaginary friend was a ghost!
Sara shuddered. Skimming the rest of the pages she noticed that the majority of the remaining book was empty. The entries that were left just went off in a ramble about hatred and God.
The handwriting got messier and messier as the summer entries went on to the point that Sara couldn't make out any more of what the writer was trying to convey.
She slammed the diary shut and set it down on the table, where it seemed to glare up at her like a malevolent demon. Sara got to her feet and walked over to the cordless phone.
She looked up the number for the local library, then dialed. Whatever she did, she knew she needed to find out exactly what had happened in her house. What had happened to Lily, Peter, Mark, and the unnamed writer of the diary?
The phone rang and rang, finally an answering machine clicked on, informing Sara that the library was closed on Mondays.
“Damnit!” Sara cursed, slamming the phone down and stomping her foot in frustration. She couldn’t go too far from the house, as the kids were out biking, but she decided to visit some of the neighbors. It was funny – she and Paige had been friends for weeks, and she still had no idea which neighboring house belonged to Paige.
Sara washed her dusty hands and left the house. She crossed the lawn and knocked on the house directly next door.
An old man answered. He gave Sara a friendly-yet-apprehensive look.
“Hello there,” the man said.
“Hi,” Sara said. “I’m looking for Paige…I just realized I don’t know her last name,” she added, blushing. “Does she live here?”
The man frowned.
“She’s about my height, with blonde hair and blue eyes,” Sara explained helpfully. “She has kids, too, and I think she’s divorced? Maybe they live with their father?”
The old man’s frown grew deeper and Sara felt a chill wave of anxiety crest over her head.
“I don't think I can help you,” the man said.
He went to close the door.
"Please," Sara stuck her hand out and looked at him. "I've been having a hard time and she has come over a few times. Maybe she is visiting someone?"
The man eyed her warily but didn't try to force the door close.
"I just wanted to ask her some questions about a family that I think may have um lived in my house a while back." She pointed back to the porch she had just left.
He sighed.
"I'm sorry, you just caught me off guard a bit. Would you like to come in for some coffee?"
Sara glanced over her shoulder. There was no sign of the kids.
“We’d better sit on the porch,” she said. “My children are all out, and I don’t have a way to reach them.”
The man nodded. He gestured for Sara to sit on the porch swing and then closed the front door. Sara waited idly, twisting her fingers in her lap. When the man reappeared, he was carrying two large glasses of iced tea. He passed one to Sara.
“Your friend, you said her name was Paige,” the man said slowly. “I think that’s impossible, miss.”
&n
bsp; Sara frowned. “Why?”
The man gave her an ominous look. “A woman named Paige Clark used to live in your house and she matches the description you gave,” he said.
Sara blinked.
“She... she had some problems,” the man continued.
“I think my house is haunted,” Sara cut in. She flushed. “I know that sounds crazy,” she added. “But all of this weird stuff has been going on, and I just don’t know anymore! It’s all so strange!”
The man stared at her for a long time.
“May I ask your name?”
“Sara Gideon,” Sara said, her voice trembling. She took another sip of iced tea, barely tasting the sweet liquid as it flowed over her tongue.
“Well, Sara, my name is Rico,” the man said. “And because we know each other’s names, we’re friends now. And friends tell each other things.”
Sara nodded.
“Paige – Mrs. Clark – lived in that house, years ago, with her children,” Rico said.
“Peter and Lily,” Sara said. She bit her lip again. Somehow, saying the names of the children out loud seemed to make everything feel truly real.
“Yes,” Rico said. He sighed. “This is a grim story, Sara. Are you sure you want to hear?”
Sara nodded wordlessly.
“Everyone speculated she had some kind of undiagnosed post-partum depression,” Rico continued. He kept his blue eyes locked on Sara as he spoke. “Her husband worked long hours and sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time.”
“Anyway, she would do crazy things to her children that today would get you arrested sooner than later for abuse. The neighbors always tried to help the young'uns out because Paige wasn't right in the head.”
He took another sip of his drink.
“I remember when I was a child she came running over and told my father to get his gun because demons had possessed the family dog and it was trying to lead her to the gates of hell."
"It seems she grabbed a shovel and took care of it herself when she couldn't get a gun. I was terrified of going by her house after that because the dog used to always be in the yard and I figured that a ghost dog would be just as scary as a possessed one. But her children – the boy was a teenager, the girl was a little younger. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but she killed them both one night.”
Haunting and Scares Collection Page 27