Frightful Tales #1: Rose's Thorn

by Wesley Thomas

  “Did you like my note Laura?” the low, odd voice questioned.

  Her whole mind was racing, spinning around a race track, a beat shaking her head. After this subsided it was as if she woke from a dream. A red mist clouding her sight as she came gradually from fogginess to lucidity. On the phone, with the man still breathing, having asked a horrifying question. She was clueless: threaten, beg, hang up?

  “Who is this?” Laura began to sob, to her dismay.

  Breathing.

  “Please, stop this, I haven't done anything to you.”

  Breathing.

  “So you like romance novels?” he asked.

  OH MY GOD! He saw me go into the library only a few minutes ago! Laura felt faint, propped against the small table, chest aching, gasping for breath.

  “Rose are red, violets are blue.

  At midnight tonight, I am going to butcher you.”

  The phone went dead. Then adding to the overwhelming martyrdom, Laura glanced at the time on the phone. It was 11:30, she had half an hour to live.

  Laura tried, but couldn't move. Once again drawn into an imitation of the ice queen, ridden of movements, in the total definition of angst. After a few minutes of this terrifying numbness, she snapped from the initial trauma and had the presence of mind to dial 9-9-9.

  “Hello, emergency services how may I direct your call?” a robotic sounding woman asked.

  “I need to speak to Officer Thompson please,” she whimpered.

  “One moment please,” then silence.

  Silence had become Laura's worst nightmare. It was when the deepest darkest monsters surfaced and played out in her mind. Sound was a welcome distraction, but lack of any noise forced her to listen to the plaguing insecurities.

  Until he spoke and brought interference, “Hello, Officer Thompson speaking.”

  “Officer Thompson, it's Laura, the babysitter at the castle,” she was racked with nerves and shook uncontrollably as she spoke into the phone. Her voice wavering badly, throat burning from withholding a downfall of tears.

  “Hi Laura, is everything okay? Has something else happened?” he seemed calm, but suspected trouble.

  “Yes, I got another note and this time it read- 'Did you really think Dr Anderson was behind this. Or stupid little brats. Guess again blondie'. Then he called and threatened to kill me at midnight tonight.”

  “That's in fifteen minutes.” Officer Thompson palmed his forehead and immediately regretted that outburst as it would more than likely add more anxiousness to the young lady in peril. “I mean, okay, how exactly did he threaten you?”

  “He must have seen me go into the library and get a romance novel, asked if I like romance novels, then read me a poem. Something like roses are red, violets are blue, at midnight tonight I am going to butcher you. I'm terrified,” it couldn't be contained any longer, Laura wept down the telephone line, struggling to maintain composure. She felt warm, sticky and congested from the stream of tears.

  “Okay, okay, calm down,” he soothed.

  “CALM DOWN?! He can see me, and he has been in the castle, he left a note on the bed, and he will kill me!” She wailed hysterically.

  Tears glided down her scrunched up face as she began to think of the people she may never see again. A flash of faces and places played out in Laura's mind.

  “No, I won't let that happen, I am sending out a patrol car now, it should be with you in twenty minutes,” he promised with a stern voice.

  “But I only have fifteen!” she was completely panic-stricken.

  “That's why I need you to do something for me, I need you to go get Toby, and he will take you to the panic room on the top floor of the main tower.”

  “A pa-” Laura was pleased to hear that, but rudely cut off.

  “Don't say it! There is a chance he can hear you speaking, and we don't need to alert him to the panic room. But yes, there is one and no one can get in unless you let them, okay? And Toby knows the code. So get him, tell him what's been going on, and tell him the police are on their way but it will take a while, so you need to hide in the panic room. Understand?” he sounded firm, full of authority.

  “Yes, but what if he is waiting for me in the halls?” goosebumps crawled on the nape of her neck at that prospect.

  “Okay. Is there anything in the room you can use as a weapon, just in case?”

  A weapon?! I can barely fight teenage girls at school, let alone a full grown psychotic man!

  “Erm.....only candlesticks...” Laura was terrified of confronting this stalker.

  “Okay, oh! I've got an idea. Every room, except bathrooms, are under surveillance. But only Dr Anderson has the code to access them, I am going to get a hold of him and get the code, and then we can find out where the person is.”

  “What do I do in the meantime?” Laura moaned helplessly, wiping dry tears from her face.

  “Lock the door, and hide somewhere unseen, like under a bed, or in a wardrobe.”

  “Okay,” uneasiness was building inside her like lava boiling and ready to explode outside a volcano, spurting acidic hotness into the atmosphere.

  “Oh and do you have a mobile number?” he asked quickly.

  “Yes, it's 07854020704,” Laura replied, trying endlessly to calm down.

  “Great, keep it with you at all times, I will call back in a couple of minutes. Be careful, and stay in that room,” he was beginning to get serious, clearly concerned about her safety, or lack there of.

  “Okay, I will,” she uttered.

  “Speak soon Laura,” then the phone cut out.

  The next few minutes adopted the feeling of hours. Each second was like a slow week day, dragging along, refusing to end. Laura had grabbed her phone and was now squeezing it, looking at it as if it may detonate at any second. The door was locked and she was hid in a spacious wardrobe, with a mountain of clothes hung overhead.

  She had cloaked herself with the various attire that dangled from hangers, and sat, crouched, waiting for the phone to ring. Stuck in a dark space, wheezing, and petrified, Laura felt adrift. In a sea of unpredictability, fate unknown. The clock was ticking, and now it had taken on the persona of a hyperactive child, the clocks handle tittering onwards. This was due to her life's supposed deadline being at midnight, and it was now 11:50. Ten more minutes left. Just as Laura felt another panic attack coming, the phone rang.

  Laura fumbled for a second and then jammed the green button, clunking the phone to her head. It stung for a few seconds, but she couldn't care less, Laura wanted out of this hell.

  “Hello,” she mumbled.

  “Laura, do not react to what I am about to tell you, do you understand?” he demanded, choking on distress.

  “Okay....” Laura was frightened at what was burdening Officer Thompson so badly.

  “I have been watching the cameras after speaking to Dr Anderson, I have told him everything is under control but he wants to come home immediately. He will be there in just short of an hour with his wife.” he informed.

  “And....” Laura whispered.

  “Now, this is where you have to stay quiet, and whatever you do, don't scream,” he begged.

  Now Laura was on an entirely new level of suffering, fighting for air, chest ablaze.

  “Okay...” she gulped, tears forming and nose burning.

  “There is a man dressed as a clown roaming around the castle. He broke in from a back wing; he is the one who has been leaving you notes. He is carrying a knife,” Officer Thompson revealed.

  Laura slapped a hand across her mouth, instinctively tightening her grip on the phone. She squealed through a set of trembling digits. Every single hair on her body rigid with terror.

  “And I have searched the castle to his whereabouts, and according to CCTV he is laying under a bed, in the room that you're currently in,” he confessed. Laura heard him take a huge gulp. Her hand released the phone as her body shuddered in despair.

  She heard Officer Thompson speak down the phone that was
now wobbling on the floor of the wardrobe. It's luminous screen streaking through the gloom of the wardrobe. Her head was on fire but she somehow managed to pick it up, putting it back against her ear with a quivering hand.

  “Laura, are you there?” he asked, with a tone suggesting abhorrence.

  “Yeah, I... I'm... yeah,” she had lost the ability to form coherent sentences, mumbling through speech like she had a mouthful of food. Laura's face was again, tear-soaked.

  “Calm down, this could work to our advantage, he doesn't know that you know his whereabouts. If you act calm and leave that room and get to Toby's, you two will be temporarily safe. Then when you are locked in there I can keep tabs on the guy, and advise the best time to get to the panic room,” Officer Thompson could hear sobbing on the other end of the line.

  “Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but, if you can just be strong for me, and do this, you will live.”

  In that moment, she somehow managed to derive the ambition to do this, after picturing her parents. Sorrow and regret were added to the cocktail of emotions, at the last encounter with Bruce, how Laura had walked away from him, leaving him feeling guilty, upset and ashamed. She then made a solemn vow, that would not be the last time she saw him. Or her mother for that matter.

  “Okay, I will do it,” Laura toughened up; swallowing what would hopefully be the last of her tears. Still drizzled in dread, but her abdomen was tensed with determination to save herself, and Toby.

  Laura's cold shaky hand pressed the inside of the wardrobe door with an open palm. She was psyching herself up. Readying herself, calming her nerves, and trying to settle the ripples that were breaking the peacefulness of her inner lake. Laura took a lengthy but undetectable breath, pushing on the exhale. She'd hung up the phone and dropped it in her pocket. Officer Thompson was watching on the camera, monitoring safety remotely while the patrol car made its way there.

  She fought the urge to look down, staying clear of the bottom of the bed. Luckily it was masked with a long white filly sheet that circled the whole wooden frame. So her peripheral vision wasn't taunted by a blurry colourful clown glaring from beneath the bed. She continually reminded herself what was driving her: family, friends, life and the desire to live it. This somewhat helped suppress the aversion.

  The door opened, and she slowly stepped out onto the soft carpet below. Muscles were stiff and some even cramping from the wardrobe's effective but uncomfortable hideaway. Awkwardly, Laura stood straight, mentally motivating herself onwards. She greedily gulped air like it was expanding her with a warrior-like heroism, to vanquish evil and save the helpless victim. But in this case, she was the helpless victim. Laura was a Zebra trying to sneak past a lion's den, avert any attention, and remain inconspicuous in her nightmare-like mission. Then a colourful gloved hand reached out from underneath the bed and her stomach dropped.

  This gave temporary pause as the fingers wriggled like a can of worms, but she persevered, determined to get out as quickly as possible, carrying on towards the door. He doesn't know I know, he doesn't know I know. She repeated, reminding herself with these affirmations. Laura was trying her best to appear nonchalant and leisurely. The door was almost within arm's reach, only one more step. Rain tapped at the window as Laura reached for the handle, dizzy and scared; when someone knocked from the other side of it.

  “Laura.”

  It was Toby. Relief cocooned her like a warm, silky blanket. She unlocked the door and flung it open. He wore creased blue pyjamas, looking happy and carefree, hair ruffled. If only he knew.

  “I couldn't sleep, I wondered if you wanted to watch a scary movie? Get in the Halloween spirit?” he suggested. This was the ideal excuse Laura was looking for.

  “Yes, let's head to the screening room then,” Laura stepped out in the hallway, when Toby looked confused.

  “Who is that clown under your bed?” Toby asked.

  Laura turned to see a clown's head peeping out from the pale sheets, laughing hysterically. The paint had formed deep lines and wrinkles, and the red smeared lips looked horrific, like he'd eaten a brain for supper. But the eyes were by far the scariest, covered in black paint, the eyes themselves full of rage, staring directly at Laura. But he was also smiling. The contrast between angry eyes and mischievous grin was a terrifying combination.

  “RUN!” Laura screeched, pushing Toby down the hall.

  They sprinted to the stairwell, hearts pounding and minds reeling, disorientation smeared on the poor boy's face, whilst Laura was simply horrified.

  “Run upstairs Toby, take me to the panic room,” Laura ordered, panting loudly.

  He looked temporarily befuddled at her knowledge of the panic room, then reverted back to being petrified, moving his little body as fast as humanly possible. Laura had forbid herself to look back, choosing to remain ignorant as to the clown's location, and if he was chasing them. An abundance of heavy breathing echoed in the stairwell, but it wasn't clear as to whose the respiring belonged too. Laura's, Toby's, or the clown's.

  They circled the staircase, whizzing by floor after floor, woozy and discombobulated, until they reached the top. The level which Laura had originally labelled an attic. Their feet were stomping on the steps, each becoming lethargic, energy dwindling, clumsiness a potentially fatal hazard. The frenzied rush made both of them nauseous. They came to the partially carpeted floor with a door before them. A thick metal block that did not blend with the interior of the castle whatsoever. It resembled a bank vault. Toby ran ahead and input several digits on a small keypad, then the metal sheet slid aside after a ding rang out. Toby instantly hauled Laura inside.

  He paced to another keypad on the inside and poked more digits. But there was an awful low buzz this time. The keypad flashed red. This can't be good. Laura became anxious.

  “What's wrong?” Laura inquired.

  “I can't remember the code for the inside, the one to close the door once you're in,” Toby's eyes were wide with panic. Laura shared this emotion.

  “Think Toby, just relax and think, is it a birthday, place, something sentimental?” Laura nudged.

  “I am trying to think,” Toby looked ready to burst into tears at drawing a major, possibly life threatening blank. Then they both jerked to see the clown ascending the staircase in front of them.

  “Hello children,” he whispered.

  They were more afraid to discover he was equipped with a broken candlestick, one end jagged and incredibly sharp. Perfect for stabbing.

  “Toby please hurry, think,” Laura tried to fight the overwhelming odds of her approaching failure, and demise. Toby entered code after code but the low base drumming continued like a whooping siren blaring, continuing to sustain an aura of anxiousness. Toby thought desperately, forehead creasing in fearful concentration. But now the clown stood at the top of the stairs, laughing at the child's attempts. This didn't help the boy's focus. Until a ping broke through the utter tumult. Then the silver saviour began to slide backwards. A knight in shining metallic armour attempting to guard the two young victims. But this didn't stop the clown rushing at them, smiling. Oh my God, what if he ends up locked in here with us?! Laura struggled to breathe, lungs barely functioning, heart aching.

  The metal barrier only had a few inches to go until complete protection, but the clown was gaining on them. Just when the two thought they were out of the woods, the clown launched the candlestick as a last ditch effort to hurt one of them. It careened onwards, tumbling over and over in mid air. It snook through the tiniest gap and hit Toby hard in the shoulder, sharp section first. He flew backwards and released a deafening shriek as it pierced his flesh. Toby thrashed against the floor as the door closed. But the clown knew with Toby now in an unstable condition, it wouldn't be long until they had to venture outside. To the candlestick-wielding arms of the blood hungry killer.

  A wave of grief swept over the young boy as he shrieked in agony, weeping a stream of tears. Laura rushed to his rescue, although she wasn't sure what to do. Th
e candlestick protruded from his shoulder, at least two inches deep. Does she pull it out? Or let it stay in there until the police come? Questions seemed to accompany them in the panic room.

  “The first aid box,” Toby muttered between sobs, full of agony.

  He pointed to the back corner of the room. It was all metallic, every inch of their current sanctum. The walls metal, floor titanium, ceiling silver. They were awash of essentials to survive in this room. A few beds pushed against walls, drawers, shelves with tinned food, a television, laptop, books, and a green first aid box. It reminded Laura of a high-tech, futuristic bomb shelter. Laura scrambled, grabbing it from one of the many shelving units.

  “I don't know what to do Toby,” she admitted, kneeling at Toby's side, feeling stupid.

  “You need to remove it and then get ready to clog up the bleeding,” Toby advised, breathing heavily and speaking so mature he reminded Laura of a doctor. Guess mum and dad have taught him the basics.

  “I don't know if I can,” Laura muttered.

  “You have to, or I will die, please,” he begged.

  “Maybe not, the police are on the way. I spoke to one on the phone, and a car is on its way.” Laura tried to lift his spirits from the gutter and bring them to at least ground level.

  “But it is doing more damage in me. internally, it is only a couple of inches in, but it could break a bone, and severe an artery or vein, if it hasn't already. It is so close to my neck, which isn't good. Why do you think vampires suck blood from your neck?”

  Creepy blood-sucking fiends were something Laura really didn't want to think about right now.

  “Okay, okay, I'll do it,” Laura promised, taking a deep inhale.

  She tried to find the same courage that had been used when leaving the wardrobe. She searched hard, heeding it out from within her, until she felt that same warmth and power that had possessed her only minutes ago. Laura wrapped her fingers around the candlestick firmly.