Frightful Tales #1: Rose's Thorn

by Wesley Thomas

  People would probably not give it a second thought, as they did have a very similar look, and were the same age, and size, with the same hair colour. What a crafty, conniving, deceitful creature, Declan hissed, fists clenching.

  Then from nowhere a calendar blocked his vision, and red ticks began marking off the days: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and so on. Until it stopped, and the calendar disappeared. Two weeks had passed by Declan's calculations, did that signify that time in this world had moved along two weeks? He was still in the attic bedroom of Rose, where Aderas, posing as Rose, was perched on the bed. She was holding a doll. Rose. Or that is what Declan knew it to be named from the future. Aderas was having what looked like a conversation it.

  “I know you told me he hurt girls, I know he hurt you. I told him, I warned him, you understand?” Aderas said with a thick Jewish accent, still learning how to form sentences in English.

  The doll didn't move, but there was an acknowledgement in Aderas' eyes, showing an understanding from a response the doll had given.

  “I warned him you would kill him, that you would get revenge if he hurt me. I miss you Rose,” Aderas began to snivel, wetness trailed her snivelling face.

  “I bet you, I will make you proud, make your name live on. Even if I marry, my name will be yours, I will carry on Clarimonde line,” then a few more tears, and Aderas hugged the doll.

  Aderas looked to a small book on the bedside table. A diary! It was one of the diaries! Declan thought, and if he remembered correctly, it was the last one of the bunch.

  “Yes, I will keep them, I will do what you want Rose.”

  The door slammed open interrupting Aderas' conversation with the doll, and as usual Augustus stood, looking intoxicated on fury. The behavioural similarities between Augustus and David were scary.

  “I told you stop talking to that fucking doll. Rose is dead, not in the doll, I give you this life, and this is how you pay me back? You are worse than her, I will kill you like I killed her you ungrateful shit,” he shrieked in animosity.

  Aderas jumped from the bed like a grasshopper fleeing death, and ran to the window. She opened it, and climbed onto the balcony.

  “That won't save you,” he laughed, mocking her pathetic attempt to escape.

  He approached slowly, intimidating Aderas. Each step was like a threat, a threat that he would end her life, as he had his daughters.

  “You know where I put your friend’s body? zu verstehen? Understand?” he sniggered, “I took her from the floorboards of this room and buried that waste of a human in the field. I buried her where you two play, she will rot forever where you play,” he laughed so loud and obnoxiously the war of anger and horror began inside Aderas, and Declan. But Declan was nothing more than a ghost observing from another level of existence. Augustus stepped out into the night, onto the balcony, mere metres away from Aderas. Aderas was squashing herself again the balcony's fence. In a last ditch effort to put as much distance between herself and the loathsome monster as possible.

  “Come here little girl, time to play, then die,” he whispered, still giggling.

  He unzipped and flopped out his penis. Aderas then went into a state of consciousness that made her tap the back of her head repeatedly against the fence, and mutter, “No, no, no, no, no,” over and over again, like a broken CD.

  Her sanity was on the brink of extinction, along with her innocence. Not only was she a young girl, but Declan assumed she had no family, and that they had all been killed as a result of the holocaust, so that was too much inner turmoil and angst as it was, but enduring sexual abuse was an overload of strife.

  “Come here little girl, do not be sad, you will like it,” he chuckled, stroking his foreskin.

  As Declan once again felt sick to his stomach, fighting the urge to purge, stomach squirming. His face was creased in revulsion, struggling to look, but wanting to know how everything played out.

  Aderas suddenly broke free from her catatonic state, but stayed still and stared behind Augustus. Augustus turned to see the doll standing behind him. He laughed and kicked the doll back in the bedroom, and gave it no thought.

  “Sie Machen Fehler,” Aderas said, appearing very calm.

  Hold on, Declan thought, I have heard that before, no, I have read that before! That was written on my bedroom wall in red, he remembered the translation, 'you make mistake'. No sooner than Declan thought it, Augustus was lifted several inches off the ground. He made a rapid transformation from horny and humoured, to absolutely terrified. A coward.

  “What going on? What the hell going on?” Augustus floated, waving his arms frantically, penis swinging as he quickly zipped up his manhood.

  “No, what the.....” Augustus was shouting.

  Aderas just sat staring in part amazement, part fear. Then, he was flung over the balcony. Declan hadn't noticed until now, but there was a small conservatory underneath the balcony, but it was a fair distance away. This was what Augustus smashed through after he was tossed from the balcony. The way he moved through the sky at first was as if he was skidding on air, being dragged by some invisible force, falling horizontal, not vertical. His macho presence was no more, and he shrieked like a girl as he began to descent. This strangeness of evading gravity had ended, abruptly. His body thudded the roof of the conservatory and it instantly cracked like ice. He tumbled through it with shiny speckles of glass decorating his downfall, and landed on the tiled floor with a thwack. Bones snapped and blood splattered the conservatory's interior. Tiny chairs, tables, and plants became spotted in crimson.

  The atmosphere had changed dramatically, from tense and scary, to serene and quite peaceful. Aderas still on the balcony, quite shaken from what had just happened, stumbled back into the bedroom. She wandered to the bed, still quite shaky, grabbed the diary, and opened it. A pen was inside, which she lifted and began using. She scribbled very quickly. The scratching of pen on paper echoed in the attic bedroom for a moment, like the noise of a body trying to claw its way out of a coffin. She reached the bottom of the page, having stained it in dark ink squiggles. He saw her turn to another page and this time he could distinguish what she had wrote. 'R.I.P ROSE'.

  Now it all made sense to Declan. Rose had somehow put her soul into the doll, after being killed by her father. She had sent subtle messages to Declan, which he perceived as hauntings, rather than cries for attention, and in actual fact were warnings of his father's ultimate action that would kill him. Every appearance, every action the doll had done, had been a clue to Rose's past experiences, to tell a story, but to warn of another disgusting father, and that David would destroy Declan, as Augustus had destroyed Rose. Her best friend, who was a Jew, had assumed Rose's identity to carry on her name, and legacy, promising that the surname would remain, even after marriage. That cleared a mystery up that had been alive in him for years. He had always wondered why Elizabeth hadn't taken Paul's surname, now he knew. It was a complex, and intricate tale, but he knew nonetheless. Aderas then began walking towards Declan. He was somehow actually in the scene, not just watching it, but involved and a part of whatever world he currently resided in. He was stood on the balcony, flesh and bone, and could feel physical sensations now. It was cold, and on the inside he felt a great loss. Aderas continued towards him, until she was a matter of inches away; she stood, and smiled.

  Words were not uttered but it was as if he could hear her thoughts. As he had Rose's.

  “I am free, because of you, you heard what I had to say, I knew you were in trouble and I predicted a similar fate for you, than what Rose had. She was my best friend, and her own father killed her, and David was going to kill you.”

  He was still not one hundred percent sure how he could hear her even though her mouth was not moving, but he responded anyway. He was also slightly hazy on Aderas being the one talking to him, but Rose's spirit had been the one in the doll, screaming for attention and raising an alarm.

  Were they both trying to warn him? Had Rose been in charge until
now, when Aderas, Emily's non-biological grandmother, was now thanking Declan for coming along, or had it been Aderas telling the story all along? As Aderas knew what Rose had been through with her father, and how she had died.

  “Am I dead? What is going on?” Declan asked, eyes darting frantically.

  “You are not dead, your mind is in this world, I brought you here, but your physical vessel is at your house. I saw a chance to bring you into this world as you were on the brink of death, so I took you from limbo and brought you here,” she said, the breeze ruffling her hair.

  “What happens now? Do I go back? Will I not just die when I go back if I am going back to being strangled by my father?” he worried.

  “No, you will live,” she promised with a stern tone.

  “But how, I don't understand.....” Declan was flustered.

  “Just trust me, I will take care of you but in return I need something from you,” her face stiffened, becoming serious.

  “Okay,” Declan said hesitantly.

  “I need you to take care of Emily, she is the next generation of Clarimondes, and she needs to be free from harm, I will help her as much as I can, but you also need to protect her, understand?”

  “Oh my God, is Paul abusi-”

  “No, no, he is a good man, a dying breed unfortunately, but no he is not abusing her in any way,” she responded, holding up both hands.

  Her pronunciation and grammar was getting better even though she wasn't technically uttering a word.

  “Yes, I will, she is my best friend, I will keep her safe,” he nodded.

  “Then it is time,” uttered Aderas now known as Rose.

  She raised her hand and Declan reached for it, this time with no doubt, or uncertainty, he now trusted her, and understood everything. He had clarity and closure, and was overjoyed by that fact.

  White flashed and he felt a pull again, similar to what he felt coming here. His skin went taut and hair ruffled as if on a roller-coaster. Air was blown into his eyes as he fought to keep them open. Then he began to feel warm, he was still, and heat rushed through his body, a red glow came into view and he was overwhelmed with a hotness, not only actual heat, but in mood, he was happy.

  Until the red faded like a painted, wooden fence, and everything began to outline in front of him.

  It was being sketched by an otherworldly artist, the outline of his bedroom: window, floor, shelves, and his father, which brought dread. The lines were given colour, and life, wood was painted beige and given a three dimensional gloss, and the windows were painted a mixture of white, with the garden blurred through it. David was water coloured in fleshy tones, and lines formed on his face giving the many wrinkles excessive drinking had caused, and brown charcoaled onto his rotting teeth. Bags puffed out from under his eyes and a thick stubble grew on his lower face. Soon he was fully back in reality, no longer in 'limbo' as Aderas had called it, but truly back in the land of the living. But David still tightly gripped Declan's throat and the clarity that had warmed him previously, had now vanished, and he was at a loss as to how he would prevail this. Aderas, or Rose, as he should refer to her as, had promised he would live, but how? The lack of feeling, physical that is, that he had in limbo, had also disappeared and now he felt the burn in his throat, and the panic in his heart. His oesophagus was being crushed and preventing oxygen coming in, and carbon dioxide going out. Then someone came behind David, holding up something high in the air. It was his mother.

  Deirdra was holding a ceramic ornament. It was heavy. Declan had tried to move it in the past when cleaning the living room for his mother, but couldn't. He was surprised to see she could not only move it, but lift it, it must weigh more than several babies. She was standing there, not with anger in her eyes, but a dedication, an expression that showed her suspicions had been confirmed, and she was putting an end to it, permanently. She raised the heavy object even higher, almost scratching the ceiling, and brought it down with an admirable speed. The way in which she lowered it, was incredible, done with the gall and strength of a warrior. A warrior that was vanquishing his enemy, with a lust for the kill in his eyes. But Deirdra didn't have the lust for death in her eyes, but a look of vengeance. The ceramic, surreal object, that was comparable to an occult themed goblet, crumbled on David's drunken head. The collision sounded like a plate hitting a wall, that shattering noise of rapid contact between two items, one of which easily broke when enough force was applied. David's grip loosened and his eyes that were so full of antagonism, emptied instantly. His creased face reverted to a neutral indifference, his frown lines smoothed out, and the lines from nose to mouth relaxed and softened. He became an empty shell, once alive with an alcoholic, lazy lout, now simply nothing more than a body, an empty vessel. Had the blow instantly killed him? Declan quizzed. Then his question was answered.

  David's body slumped, little by little. First his knees hit the floor with a crack, then he fell backwards and his rump smacked the backs of his legs, and then his upper half dropped to the floor, with his bent legs mashed by his carcass. Declan noticed there was a huge hole in his recently deceased father's head. Blood was spurting out as if it was a water feature in a garden showroom.

  It spurted out bit by bit, sometimes shooting out a load, other times it dribbled down his skull.

  A pool of plasma circled around David's broken cranium, it grew in size, and darkened in colour. It was a shallow crimson lake spreading across the wooden floor. Declan knew, not only by common sense, but by paying attention in science lessons, his father, was dead. His suffering was over, for good.

  Declan stepped over the corpse and to his mother, where she held him tightly and began sobbing on his shoulder. Declan could not understand his own feeling of remorse, he felt like a hypocrite, a traitor. He had wanted his father to no longer be a threat to him for so long, but now that it had happened, he did feel a small pang of guilt. Maybe this was due to him being so caring, to a fault, that he even felt bad for the death of a loathsome so-called human being. He felt good at this knowledge, it was proof that his mother had done an amazing job raising him, it was a testament to her, evidence of her remarkable maternal gift. Deirdra pulled away and grabbed Declan by the shoulders, and proved that every human, no matter how caring, have their flaws.

  “I am so sorry Declan, I knew something was going on and I....I..... wanted to ignore it, pretend it wasn't happening, wasn't going on, but I am sorry. I should have put a stop to it a long time ago, I love you so much and I am so proud of you, and am honoured at having such a brave, intelligent son,” Deirdra began to weep, as did Declan.

  “I will NEVER let anything happen to you ever again, I promise, I just hope you can forgive me,” she pleaded, quivering, tears tinkling down her face.

  “Mum, I love you, and I understand you wanted to stay in denial, I was at that place for a long time, and pretended it wasn't happening, because it was easier than to deal with the truth. But I am alive, and have no big scars, or permanent bodily damage, I am just glad he never hit you. You had your suspicions, and it just took a while for you to act on them that's all. You came through in the end, and saved my life, so I definitely forgive you,” Declan said through tears of his own.

  She then affectionately rubbed some hair from his forehead. “How did I get so lucky to have a son, as smart and clever as you? You are going to do amazing things in this world, I know it.”

  They both continued to hug and cry, releasing not only recent trauma, but a lifetime's worth of misery and anguish that will always remain in the hidden caverns of their memories.

  ***

  A week had gone by since I solved the almost ancient mystery of the doll, and mother had slain the more recent beast. I feel like now, not to sound too cliché, but the world is my oyster.

  I no longer have a father who hits and undermines me, and I can rest at the fact that I was never haunted by the doll, just sent not-so-subtle messages to care for Emily, and have Rose's story told. Which I have decided to keep to m
yself, as I fear it will only upset Elizabeth to know her mother was murdered. I have so many dreams and ambitions, that my mother encourages all the time. I want to achieve so much, a lifetime might not be enough time, but I will make do with the time that I do have. People experience abuse of all kinds, at all ages, it can steal years of their life in what can seem like the blink of an emotionally scarred eye. I plan to set up a charity when I am old enough, to council victims of abuse back to health. I have a boatload of books on psychology to read, before I even put this plan in motion.

  I mean, come on, I am still in school.

  Sample From 'Frightful Tales #2: He's Watching Me'

  Laura's legs finally gave way as she collapsed, back thudding against the dresser as it tipped with her weight. Wash cloths and various beauty products streamed from the top, tumbling in mid-air and scattering on the carpet. The blow should have caused pain, but the apparent psychopath stalker was a great pain-reliever. Laura's heart hammered heavily, sending a booming pulse to bang on her ear drums. Then, averting her attention, a phone rang. It wasn't Laura's mobile; it was another phone at the side of the bed, resting on a tiny table. It bleeped into the unnerving silence. Normally she wouldn't answer, but she wanted to let someone know of the troubles that had come to light. She sprang to the phone, vision blurry and mind foggy, praying that is was Dr Anderson ringing to check up on everything. Or even better still the police officer.

  “Hello, hello, I need help,” Laura cried out before thinking. This was sure to instil panic in Dr Anderson. Okay, just relax, breathe. There was a pause, and then came the spine chilling breathing that she knew all too well, causing her stomach to drop.