The Haunting of Anna McAlister

by Jerome Harrison

  “But if it was all a dream,” Anna said. “Then how do you explain these?”

  Anna quickly got up and locked the lunchroom door. She then lifted her turtle neck sweater over her head.

  “Don’t!” Jeffrey screamed. He put his hands over his eyes and his head down on the table. The last thing Jeffrey wanted to see were breasts. They frightened him.

  “She’s wearing a bra, jerk-off,” Stacy laughed. “Besides a little tit won’t kill you.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “Would you two please look at me,” Anna was almost in tears.

  Both Stacy and Jeffrey stared at what Anna was pointing out. She traced a line of small, but definite purple bruises that dotted a path from her neck to her left breast and down her belly. She started to undo her slacks, but Jeffrey screamed that he had seen enough. He said he fully believed that the bruises continued on to a place that scared him even more than breasts, and that he didn’t need to finish the journey.

  “Oh my God,” Stacy said. “Did Tom do that to you?”

  “He says he didn’t,” Anna shrugged. “And anyway, these aren’t, like, hickeys or something. They’re different. They hurt.”

  Stacy moved to Anna and gently touched one of the marks on her ribs. Anna pulled away.

  “They hurt a lot,” she said.

  “And I assume you don’t mean in a good way,” Jeffrey was shocked by the sight of the bruises. He had taken a quick peek before looking away lest one of the breasts pop free, and he was forced to make eye to nipple contact. This, he knew, would of course result in instant blindness or death.

  “No,” Anna pulled her sweater back over her head. “Not in a good way.”

  Nobody said a word for a moment. There was a sudden loud knocking at the coffee room door. Anna screamed. Then Jeffrey screamed. Then Stacy said, “What’s wrong with you two?” and opened the door.

  It was Tony, one of the owners of the agency. He looked at his three employees, looked at his watch and said one of his three favorite expressions, “What-cha working on?”

  Tony’s other two favorites were “Got a minute?” and “CB on an OR with regular mustard.” The first two expressions were said when he suspected workers of not working. The third was most often stated when he was telling an intern what he wanted for lunch, or he was having a sexual fantasy. Tony loved his corn beef on an onion roll with regular mustard.

  “Good morning, Tony,” Stacy took the bullshit by the horns. “How was bowling last night?”

  Stacy knew how to handle Tony. His mood immediately brightened and he forgot all about why he had entered the coffee room. He smiled, and leaned back against the edge of the doorframe. He then rubbed his back against it like a bear scratching itself against a tree. It was another of Tony’s little endearing habits that drove everybody crazy.

  “Bowling was great,” he bubbled and scratched. “I shot a 700 series,” he beamed. “We won!” he almost burst with pride. “So that puts us in the finals.”

  “That’s great T,” Jeffrey said, sounding straighter than John Wayne on a testosterone buzz. “I mean, that’s bowlin.” Jeffrey had no idea what he was talking about, but Tony seemed to like it.

  Jeffrey continued. “You have to tell us more about it . . . at lunch.”

  CB on an OR with regular mustard, the thought popped into Tony’s head. It would be there for the rest of the morning.

  With Tony’s mind now fully focused on corned beef, Jeffrey was able to slip by him and out the coffee room door. “Excuse me, man” Jeffrey said as he passed. “Some of us have work to do.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Tony apologized and stepped aside.

  “No problem,” Jeffrey said. “I just have a shit-load of stuff to get done before . . . lunch.”

  “Lunch,” Tony echoed softly and sighed.

  Jeffrey also knew how to handle Tony.

  Anna followed Jeffrey, and Stacy followed her. Before breaking for their respective offices, Stacy whispered into Anna’s ear, “Remember that it was all a dream. Just let it go, kid. A dream can’t hurt you.”

  “Are you sure?” Anna touched her sweater above the bruises.

  “I’m positive,” Stacy said sharply, refusing to even consider any other possibility.

  Jeffrey came back and whispered into Anna’s other ear. “I want to hear more about that dining room scene. That Tommy-cat of yours can invite me to dinner any time he’d like.”

  Anna laughed at Jeffrey, and thought that Stacey was probably right. If her body didn’t hurt so much, or she wasn’t quite as unexplainably scared, she might have laughed even louder and believed Stacy more.

  Chapter 4

  All day long Anna couldn’t wait to get home, while at the same time she dreaded the thought of walking through her own door. Her physical discomfort was pretty much controlled by pills, but no matter how many Advil she swallowed, she couldn’t stop what she could only describe as internal shaking.

  “Sounds like a female problem to me,” Jeffrey had kidded at lunch. “That’s why men are better. Everything you want to shake is right there on the outside.”

  Anna knew that Jeffrey was just trying to snap her out of whatever she was in. In the past, Jeffrey’s gay act would always improve her mood. His straight act could be even funnier. Today, however, she wasn’t in a simple mood. She was in . . . Anna searched her mind for the right word. The only word that kept popping up was “trouble.”

  When 5 p.m. rolled around, Anna waited until 5:30 to leave.

  “Do you want some company?” Jeffrey said. “I mean after this morning’s coffee episode, Duncan’s out of luck anyway. He can be such a bitch when left, how shall I put this, undone?”

  Jeffrey was trying to be diplomatic.

  “After I had my gum surgery he wouldn’t talk to me for two weeks.”

  “I thought you had another way you could take care of business,” Stacy had joined them. “ I mean, what’s the bottom line here?

  “If you knew Duncan like I know Duncan, you wouldn’t even suggest what you’re suggesting.”

  “I guess size does matter,” Stacy laughed.

  “I don’t even let him walk to close behind me. ”

  “Got a minute?” Tony had come up to the group and started to scratch on the doorframe.

  Stacy, Jeffrey and Anna all pointed to themselves in a “me?” gesture.

  “You,” he pointed at Stacy.

  Stacy rolled her eyes and walked off toward Tony’s office. Tony followed behind, his eyes clued to the back of Stacey’s pants.

  “Hey, Tony my man,” Jeffrey’s demeanor had again changed dramatically for Tony’s benefit. Now he sounded a bit like a Neanderthal on steroids. “Bowl on!”

  Now Anna smiled.

  Tony nodded and said, “I’ll have to get you in the alleys sometime. You’ll love it.”

  “That’s what all the boys say,” Jeffrey switched on the swish as soon as Tony and Stacy disappeared. “Promises, promises, promises.”

  “You are so very, very weird,” Anna hugged her friend.

  “Thank you,.” Jeffrey hugged back. “Now what about my offer of company. Want to go play at your house.”

  If Jeffrey were straight, or she had a penis, Anna might have wondered about the true intentions of such an offer. As it was, Anna knew that Jeffrey just wanted to help.

  “No, I’ll be all right,” Anna pulled away. “I’m a big girl.”

  “Me too!”

  “And anyway, Tom should be there by seven at the latest.”

  “I could come over around eight and we could share.”

  “No!”

  “Nuts!”

  “Yeah, and his are all mine.”

  Anna kissed Jeffrey on the cheek, grabbed her purse and headed for her car. Traffic was terrible, but she found herself listening to the radio and enjoying the normalcy of the nuisance. She didn’t arrive at her house until shortly after six.

  Anna walked into her kitchen and washed the coffee cup
s from the morning by hand instead of cramming them into the already packed dishwasher as usual. She then went through her mail, actually opening the BIG SALE announcements and the contest come-ons instead of throwing them away.

  “Why is it so dark in here?” Anna turned on every light in the kitchen, hallway and living room before going upstairs.

  In her bedroom, Anna changed her clothes. Then, she changed them again.

  “Why is it so damn quiet?” Anna shouted and turned on the radio in the bathroom and the bedroom TV. She brushed her teeth, her hair and the lint off her black mohair sports coat. She lay down on the bed and started a book that she had been meaning to read for weeks. She read the first paragraph six times before throwing it to the floor.

  “Who am I kidding?” Anna got up and headed directly toward the room she had so far managed to avoid.

  As she walked down the stairs she listened, hoping to hear Tom coming home early. She heard nothing but the TV and radio, which she had left on. A moment later in the hallway leading to the dining room she imagined that the dread she was feeling was the same emotion that murderers must feel on their way to the gallows, or condemned souls as they sank through the depths of hell.

  “You are such an idiot!” Anna slapped her own face as she approached the room. “The depths of hell my ass. It’s just the door to my fucking dining room for Christ’s sake.”

  Swearing made Anna feel braver, so did making the sign of the cross. She pushed open the door. Before she entered the semi-darkened room, Anna carefully reached in with her right arm (shit shit shit shit shit shit shit) and turned on the light.

  The room took on its usual shapes and colors. Anna looked around, carefully avoiding the table. Finally assured that all was normal, Anna looked directly at where she had lined up her music boxes. When she did, all normalcy vanished. Anna gasped and started to slowly back out of the room.

  As before, the music boxes sparkled in the light, but now, instead of being lined up as Anna had left them, all 12 were neatly stacked one on top of the other.

  Anna turned and ran, reaching her kitchen telephone before taking her next breath. She called Tom’s store.

  “I’m sorry, Anna,” his assistant said. “He isn’t here right now. I think he may have left for the day. Do you want his voice mail?”

  “No!” Anna slammed down the phone, instantly regretting it. She waited to hear a crash from the dining room as the vibration from her action caused the perilously stacked music boxes to tumble to the tabletop and the floor. She suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of them being in any way damaged.

  When there was no sound, Anna again picked up the phone. She carefully dialed Tom’s cell. After three quick rings, his recorded voice answered: “Hi you’ve reached. . .” Anna hung up.

  The clock on the microwave read 6:48. “Where are you Tom?”

  Anna called his cell again. It seemed to take ten minutes before his happy voice asked the caller to leave a message after the beep.

  “Tom,” Anna tried to sound calm, but knew she didn’t. “Please get over here right now. Something happened to the music boxes. Please hurry, Tom.” She bit her lower lip, knowing she was about to sound stupid. “I’m scared.”

  Anna hung up and stared at the dining room door for what seemed like a very long time. Then, without thinking, she began to glide slowly forward. She wasn’t sure if her feet were actually moving or not. Anna blinked, and when her eyes opened, she was standing next to her dining room table, staring down at the music boxes.

  One by one, Anna carefully lifted the boxes from the stack and placed them safely on to the table. When she touched each box, what seemed like a memory of a memory flashed before her. As she lifted the cherry wood music box with its ornately carved cherubs, she visualized a formal ball and a long blue dress. The thought lasted for less than a second. The images flew by so quickly that Anna didn’t have time to react, or register each new-found memory as one of her own.

  Another music box provoked the image of a long ago Christmas. Another, a birthday party by a river. Like pain in a nitrous oxide induced stupor, the memories were felt, but instantly forgotten. There was a small shop that smelled of cedar, and a surprise package being delivered by a handsome courier on a red bicycle. When Anna touched the wood of each box, it seemed to tell a story. Finally she came to the last box. . . the black box with the rose.

  Anna stared at it for a moment. She hesitated, suddenly unable to touch it, or even to keep looking at it.

  “Okay,” Anna said out loud. “Now you are officially nuts. You are afraid of a music box.”

  Anna forced her logical, conscious mind to override her instincts. She knew she should leave . . . to again run, and this time to keep running. Instead, she carefully reached out and caressed the box with both hands. When she did, her world disappeared.

  Unbearable pain shot through Anna’s body. It radiated from her vagina throughout her being. Images flashed through her mind, each more terrifying than the one that preceded it. They moved at lightning speed, but now every one registered and was remembered.

  Anna saw herself looking down at her body. She was naked and covered with blood. Her stomach was ripped open, and the skin was pulled back to reveal what was inside. She then saw a girl’s wrist being tied with some sort of wire. The wire was tightened until it cut to the bone. Anna felt the searing pain. She saw others, young women and men being tortured, tied, raped and killed. She saw herself dead.

  Anna screamed and screamed and screamed. She couldn’t breath. She saw a knife. She felt it penetrating her body. Again ungodly pain. The knife turned slowly inside her.. Anna saw blood splattering against a wall, a ceiling and a face. It was a man’s face. She knew this man. He was smiling. He had given her the box.

  Blood filled Anna’s eyes. Screaming. So much screaming. So much pain. Then, Anna saw and felt nothing at all.

  Chapter 5

  “Anna. Anna, darling,” a voice broke into the darkness in which Anna dwelled. She liked it. It was safe. She could hide.

  “Wake up, Anna.”

  At the sound of those words, Anna started to scream. She waited for the pain to begin again. The voice . . . his voice . . . Its voice. She felt for the blood. “No! No! No! No! No!”

  Strong arms grabbed her and held her. She was shaking uncontrollably. She started to urinate.

  “Anna! What are you doing?”

  Anna dug her nails into the side of Tom’s face and pulled down, tearing away small ribbons of skin.

  “Anna, stop!” Tom ducked away. “It’s just me, for Christ’s sake.”

  Anna focused on the voice that she now recognized as being Tom’s. She was awake and suddenly acutely aware that she was in her dining room and quite wet.

  “I’m so sorry, Tom,” Anna looked at the shallow scratches on Tom’s face. “I thought you were. . . ”

  Anna was about to say a name, but it was lost before she could complete her thought.

  “Who did you think was?” Tom patted his face and checked his hand for blood.

  “I don’t know,” Anna started to cry. “I don’t remember.” She touched his face. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You have to do something about those dreams,” Tom laughed softly and hugged her close. “And those pee-dyed jeans.” he pulled away slightly and laughed a bit louder.

  After changing her clothes, Anna changed their dinner plans. “We’re going out,” she announced.

  “I thought you bought steaks.” Tom sounded disappointed.

  Anna gave him a look that made his tune change on the spot. “I hate steaks. Out it is.”

  As soon as they walked downstairs, Anna grabbed her car keys and made for the door.

  * * *

  Anna drove, and kept driving. Neither she nor Tom said a word until 15 minutes had passed.

  “Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

  Tom had to ask the question twice again before Anna responded with a harsh and clipped, “No.”

&
nbsp; “Okay.” Tom looked back at the road. “I was just kind of wondering.”

  “I’m sorry,” Anna apologized. She had been thinking about only two things. The music boxes and escape.

  “Honey, are you sure you’re okay?” Tom touched her arm and stepped softly into the conversation. “I mean these dreams and all? What’s going on?”

  Anna just shook her head and drove faster.

  * * *

  All was quiet in Anna’s house, but it was far from empty. Then, the silence was broken when a single music box began to play.

  * * *

  “It’s the music boxes, Tom,” Anna said while stirring way too much sugar into a cup of coffee.

  The diner where they finally stopped was an old converted railroad car. It was uncomfortably small and packed full of people and noises. The juke box was blaring out “Stand By Your Man” and the two waitresses were alternately screaming orders to the unseen cook in the back and calling every male customer sweetie. It was just the kind of place Anna was looking for. She finally felt a little safer, at least safe enough to talk.

  “I don’t think what’s happening is a dream.”

  “Of course it’s a dream,” Tom said as he fiddled with the tiny cartons containing non-dairy creamer. “What else could it be? You can’t seriously think your music boxes are trying to get you.”

  Tom stacked one creamer on top of the other.

  “Why are you doing that?” Anna’s voice was shaking again. She stared at the tower of creamers and held her breath.

  “Doing what?” Tom knocked over the stack. Anna started to breathe again.

  Anna told him about what had happened with the music boxes.

  “Sorry about my leaning tower of creamers,” Tom’s apology was sincere. “But I still say it was just a dream. When I came into the dining room, you had your head down on the table and you were sleeping like a baby, or like me back in algebra class. Then I woke you up and you went all freaky. But that was it. End of dream. End of story.”

  “I don’t think anything’s ended yet.”

  “Look,” Tom said. “You’re just scaring yourself now. But, I’ll tell you what. If you think those music boxes are something that horrible, then fine, just throw them away.”