by Ayse Hafiza
“Oh, come on Saima! Everyone, including your teacher, knows you have an overactive imagination, which means you make stuff up.”
“Okay, if you don’t believe me that is up to you, but you must see that Mom and Dad are not acting the same? It is because they are sick.”
“Sick how?” asked Laila.
“Sick because they’ve been infected by Lizzy and George,” whispered Saima in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.
“Oh no! What do we do?” asked Saima, finally understanding what her younger sister was trying to explain.
“We run away,” said Idris.
“But we have to be ready so we don’t upset them in any way.”
“How are we going to get away?” asked Laila, she looked both confused and scared.
“We aren’t in the same classes at school, so if we tried to run away from school there is more chance that we’d get stopped because there are more adults. But if we leave at night we can leave from the front door and escape into the night,” said Laila.
“But Mom sleeps in our bedroom,” reminded Idris. “She sleeps with her eyes open. We’ll need to be extra careful.”
Laila took a deep breath, “Are you sure about this?”
“Are you not sure? Why would you get a slap for asking about Dad?” said Idris. “Anyone can see they aren’t the same. We need to stick together in this.”
All three children nodded, it wasn’t a great plan, but it was all they had.
So they played the role of model children, they didn’t complain to dad that they wanted a bedtime story. Instead they brushed their teeth and kissed their parents’ good night. When they got upstairs they changed from their night clothes and wore their jeans and shirts. Their school bags were already packed with clothes, and in Saima’s bag, she had taken a picture of her parents with them.
They waited in bed, struggling against the desire to fall asleep until they heard their mom come upstairs and come into their bedroom. They wished now that she slept elsewhere, but why would she when their room used to be Lizzy’s old bedroom.
She climbed into bed, and after a while, Saima slowly raised herself to glance over at her. Kawser’s eyes were open, they couldn’t be sure she was sleeping but they needed to get away, they didn’t feel comfortable in the house anymore.
“Mom?” Laila whispered. There was no reaction, so slowly Laila pushed away the bed covers and trying to be silent so that even none of the mattress springs made a sound she stood up. She turned to look at her brother and sister, but before she could do anything else Saima could see the black mass in the corner of the room, it was behind her older sister’s head. So Saima pretended she was sleeping. There was no denying it, there would be no escape.
The black mass spread through the room, a huge black mass like a silent swarm of bees moved from one corner of the room to the other, then as it neared the door it stopped. It moved eerily in a sickening wave until it was just above their mom then suddenly dropped down into Kawser’s body.
Kawser stood up silently behind Laila.
Laila was beckoning them, but Saima held tightly onto Idris keeping him in the bed.
“Wake up,” Laila mouthed at the younger children.
This wasn’t good, nothing was going to save Laila now, and there was nothing they could do to warn her. Saima knew her knuckles were white, as she held onto the shirt that Idris was wearing.
The black mass formed a hand that slipped over Laila’s mouth and lifted her into the air, it seemed to paralyze her. Laila’s eyes widened, and urine trickled along the leg of her jeans and soaked into the carpet. The mass carried her out of the bedroom, their mom stood up and walked out the door behind it.
The younger children lay in the bed frozen with fear.
23
Together Again
When she felt that the coast was clear, Saima stood on the bed and looked out across the garden, she saw the black mist carry her paralyzed sister into the garage at the back of the garden, and it was followed by their mom and dad.
Saima stood up and grabbed her school bag from under the bed.
“Come on Idris, now. We have to go now!”
“We can’t leave her,” protested Idris.
“We can’t save her. It’s over for her. She’ll end up where Uncle Waleed is. While they are busy with her, we need to run. Come on!” said Saima, feeling the opportunity that the moment had represented begin to slip away.
“We can’t, she’s our sister!”
“Yes, she is but they have her and whatever they do to her, they will do to us,” said Saima.
“Did you know this was going to happen?”
Saima shook her head as she slipped her feet into her sneakers.
“Please Idris, we need to go now.”
Idris watched the light in the garage flicker on and off for a second.
“Idris. . .please, now!”
He jumped out of bed and grabbed his school bag, sliding his feet into his sneakers. They moved quickly but quietly out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
When they reached the door, Idris put his hand on the lock and turned it, the door opened. He pushed it open wide and ushered her out, Saima ran past him to open the garden gate but when she turned to look behind her Idris was no longer moving, he was paralyzed at the door. The black mist was circling him, lifting him into the air.
“Idris! IDRIS!” she called out to her brother, the fear was almost choking her. She didn’t want to take a step back toward the house. Why hadn’t he got away? Why hadn’t he left? It was then she noticed her moms hand on his shoulder, and she realized that he was never meant to get away.
Lizzy was glaring at her through her mom’s eyes, she could almost hear her words in her ear.
“Run. . .” said Lizzy.
So, she did, she ran as fast as her little legs would carry her until she found herself in the park. She was so tired from the whole thing that she fell asleep on a bench even as she tried hard not to. The light changed from twilight into daylight and when she woke she asked herself, why hadn’t Idris hadn’t been allowed to leave, but it was an easy question to answer. Idris would be a replacement for their son Frank. George, Lizzy’s husband, hadn’t enjoyed having Frank as his son, so maybe he would enjoy having Idris instead.
Saima cried into her hands, how could she have left him? But there had been nothing she could do. She was still only six-years-old.
She was hungry, so when the policeman walked toward her, she hoped that he might have a chocolate bar. He did, but he told her it was back at the police station, so Saima was led there. She was told to sit at the police officer’s desk. Inspector Barry decided to take pity on her and gave her a chocolate bar to eat. Her school logo was on her bag, so he called them. That was how Saima, the young Pakistani girl, was recognized as the youngest child of Mr. and Mrs. Rashid Khan.
Inspector Barry was not used to dealing with runaway children, he normally investigated more gruesome crimes, but the little girl with the overactive imagination amused him. She didn’t look like the typical street urchins, and she wasn’t poorly dressed, so it appeared her parents took care of her. He felt it was worth speaking to her about why she had decided to run away from home and why she was wasting police time. It was all just a matter of procedure for him.
“Saima, can you tell me why you left?”
“Because Mom and Dad were ill.”
“Well, surely you should have been there looking after them?”
His words made her feel guilty.
“Did they scold your brother and sister, and you were scared, is that’s why you ran?”
Saima nodded, that wasn’t exactly how it happened.
“Come on, let me take you home,” said Inspector Barry.
Saima shook her head violently, she didn’t want to go back there. She never wanted to go back there.
Inspector Barry ignored the protests of the child and took her in his car.
When he pulled up outside the address,
he turned off the engine and sat for a moment looking up at the house. It gave him a chill, it was the house he remembered from a long ago. The house Jane had visited last before she had disappeared. He didn’t like to think about those days, the loss of Jane had hit him hard. He couldn’t believe how much time had passed and he felt guilty for having forgotten about his ex-lover.
He opened the passenger door of the police car and led the little girl up her garden path. Pushing the doorbell, he could hear noise from behind the window of the front door.
The little girl hid behind him and she was shaking.
‘What was she so scared of?’ he thought to himself.
He was dropping her off at her parent’s home, even if it was the same home that he had taken Mr. George Blades body from, and the same one Jane had visited before disappearing. He remembered the old dear that lived there before, Mrs. Elizabeth Blades. He impressed himself with his memory when he realized that he could still remember a case from many years before. He needed to put all that out of his mind, this was different, it was a different family. This was a runaway child he had agreed to take back home. She would get in trouble, of course she would.
The door opened, and a Pakistani woman stood before him looking at him. Saima was still hiding, he pried her little hand free from his leg and held onto her shoulder making sure that she wouldn’t run.
“I think you lost something Madam,” said Inspector Barry as he pulled her out from behind him.
Saima stood with her head tilted forward she didn’t want to look at her mom because she knew it wasn’t her real Mom who would be looking back at her.
“You’re right Inspector Barry,” said the woman with an undeniably cruel smile. It gave him shivers. What was it with this house, it had the ability to do that?
“Can I come in? Is Mr. Khan available?” he asked.
“Of course. You’re in luck, he’s not feeling well, so he’s not at work today,” said Mrs. Khan.
“Of course, you’ve had a little run away to deal with. I’m sure he would be worried sick.”
The police officer gestured and Saima took a reluctant step inside, the coolness hit her immediately. It was different, the house smelled and felt different.
Her Mom led them into the front room.
Inspector Barry remembered that room, he remembered how the police officers crowded around Mrs. Elizabeth Blades, and the kindness of Jane when she offered the older lady tea before questioning her. He shook the memories from his mind to concentrate on the now, he didn’t want to remember Jane, he didn’t want to remember the affair he had.
“Tea?” asked Mrs. Khan.
“That would be lovely. I’d just like to have a quick chat about young Saima with your husband.”
“Please take me with you,” Saima whispered when her mom was out of the room.
“Goodness, I’m sure your parents are reasonable people and whatever it is that you are scared of cannot be that bad.”
“It’s bad, it’s really bad. Please, can we go anywhere but here?” begged the little girl.
The door opened and Saima sat still, she kept her mouth shut. Mr. Khan came into the room and walked over to the police officer.
Inspector Barry held out his hand and shook his firm grip. The little girl’s father showed no emotion and Inspector Barry noted that. It was an odd reaction he was witnessing from the parents, seeing as he was returning their child who had run away. In situations like this Inspector Barry would have expected the parents to hug and then scold the child, not treat her like she didn’t exist.
“Mr. Khan, I just wanted to return your daughter,” said Inspector Barry.
“She’s not my daughter. Gail is my daughter’s name.”
“Your daughter is young Saima here,” said Inspector Barry gesturing to Saima who had moved away from them all, she was moving toward the corner of the room.
“Gail, Gail come here,” called Mr. Khan.
Laila entered the room, “Now that’s my daughter.”
Inspector Barry hadn’t expected a young Pakistani girl to be called Gail that was an unusual name.
“But this is your younger daughter, Mr. Khan, this is Saima.”
“She is Rashid’s daughter, not mine,” said Mr. Khan.
“If you are not Mr. Rashid Khan, then who are you?” asked Inspector Barry.
The warm air from his mouth turned to vapor, as the temperature on the room dramatically dropped.
Mr. Khan turned to look at him.
“Frank, can you bring my tool?” called Mr. Khan.
There was no accent in his voice. This surprised the Inspector he expected to hear at least part of an accent.
A young boy entered the room. The children ignored the little girl, and as the scene played out around her she slowly worked her way around the room to the door. She was trying to get away.
“Idris. . .Idris?” the little girl whispered but he did not react. “Frank?” She had barely spoken the name when she got a reaction, the little boy turned toward her and she froze.
He turned his attention back to his father and walked toward him. From inside his sleeve a knife dropped to his palm and he passed it without speaking to Mr. Khan who held it up in the light.
“What are you doing?” the Inspector asked attempting to put some distance between himself and the man.
It was then that Mrs. Khan came back into the room blocking the exit, she stared menacingly at the little girl.
“Ask me that question again?” said Mr. Khan.
“If you are not Mr. Rashid Khan, then who are you?”
Light flashed off the blade of the knife as it was raised above his head and plunged into the police officer’s chest. Seconds later the entire family set on him, the children tore chunks of his flesh out as Mrs. Khan covered his mouth. He had been so busy thinking about Jane, he hadn’t even thought about asking how she had known his name. The little girl was gone by the time Mr. Khan and his family left Inspector Barry’s body on the front room carpet.
“Mr. George Blades, Inspector Barry, that is who I am,” said Mr. Khan standing over the brutalized body of the police inspector. As he felt his life slip away, Inspector Barry hoped and prayed that the little girl was gone. He should have listened to her.
“We met when your team took my body down from the rafters of my garage,” said Mr. Khan. Inspector Barry blacked out and lay bleeding out on the carpeted floor of the room, he knew help was not coming. In this house he took his final breath, and with it, he passed to the other side.
As he stood there he could feel the presence of the many ghosts who had lived inside the house. And he knew then that Mrs. Khan was not Mrs. Khan at all, that she was Mrs. Elizabeth Blades.
Young Saima had managed to get the front door open and had run along the street. Frank had wondered if he should run after her and stood by the door waiting for his mom to give him a signal.
“No dear, leave her, let her go,” said Lizzy.
Mr. George Blades went into his sitting room and turned on the television. Lizzy poured him a drink as the children sat at the kitchen table. She handed him the glass and smiled to herself, killing was tiring work.
“Well what happens now George?” asked Lizzy.
George drunk greedily from the glass. That had been the question in his own mind. His wife Lizzy was here, and so were the Rashid children. He had everything he wanted in life, a compliant wife, his daughter Gail and a better Frank. But that wasn’t going to be the end. George called the children onto his lap. Gail sat on one leg and Frank on the other. It was all he had ever wanted, but now that he had achieved his dreams it didn’t mean that would be the end of punishing Lizzy.
So George did, what he could have done all along. In front of Lizzy’s eyes, he slit the throats of Frank and Gail and rested their heads against his own. Then he used the knife to slit his own. Lizzy ran to him, tried to grab the knife from his hands but she was too late, as death overtook Rashid’s body and his hand lost strength
she managed to wrestle the knife and finally she used it to slit her own throat. She knew what he was doing, she finally understood him. Frank planned to leave her alone in the house, to take the children and leave, he had planned it all along.
She lay on the floor inside Kawser’s body and waited until the shroud of death met her.
When Lizzy woke up, she was laying on cream colored carpet on the floor of the house. George and the children were long gone, and from the photo frames on the walls another family appeared to live in the house. Lizzy looked around the room and noted the television, it was skinny and flat, she had never seen a television like that. The dining table was glass, and the wall between the sitting room and kitchen had been knocked through.
Lizzy didn’t know what year it was until her eyes rested on a calendar in the dark wood kitchen. It showed the year was 2018. She felt confused, moments before she had been living in the 1980’s. She didn’t understand how it was possible that nearly forty years had slipped past.
“Mom?” a young girl called out. The sitting room door opened and a little girl wearing a pink dress walked in. Her hair disheveled she held a dark toy in her hand.
Lizzy looked at her, and the girl looked directly at Lizzy.
Then Lizzy vanished into a black swarm of energy.
The little girl came to her senses and watched the swarm while slowly backing out of the room when she felt she was a safe distance away she rubbed her eyes, she was not sure whether she could trust them.
Also by Ayse Hafiza
The Ghost in the Window
The Ghost in the Mirror
The Ghost in the Water
Coming Soon - Mans End Trilogy
Earth Extinct
The Seven Gates of Hell
Heavens End
Have you read? -
The Azrael Series
The Jinn Series
The Demon Series
Afterword
Join my VIP list at www.aysehafiza.co.uk to get selected stories for free and for notification of new releases.