The Nightmare Game

by Martin, S. Suzanne

  “Yeah, I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”

  “Good night, Ashley,” she said upon leaving. Ricky waved.

  “‘Night, Illea. ‘Night, Ricky.”

  As soon as they exited the room, the contact high that I’d gotten from Illea vanished more rapidly than it had after I’d left Ben at the swing. I was more fatigued now than ever. Too exhausted even to stand for much longer, I kicked off my slippers and plopped down onto the bedspread, forced to rest a few minutes before I could get up to fetch water and change into my nightgown.

  As time went by, however, it seemed that I’d become increasingly incapable of accomplishing even such a deceptively easy task as rising from the bed. Lowering my ambitions, I blew off the nightgown, rationalizing that my robe was both comfortable and clean enough to make due. All I really needed was water. My body was crying out for it and I wasn’t willing to hunker down for the night without it. Recognizing that my only option was mind over matter, it was with greatest clarity that my mind’s eye visualized myself getting up to perform said task repeatedly; but as the minutes passed, the rest of my body mutinied and it became glaringly apparent that it had determined that disobeying my mental commands was definitely the way to go.

  Lacking now the steam required even to crawl between the sheets, I pulled out my pillow from beneath its cover, stuck it under my head and turned to one side. It was only a moment later that, against both my will and my knowledge, I slid into a deep, peaceful, dreamless slumber.

  I had no idea of how long I’d slept or what had awakened me. I wondered about the time, but other than the one pocket watch Ben had shown me earlier, I’d seen no time pieces in the building at all. Illea’s soft breathing as she lay sleeping in the other bed indicated that I must have been asleep for at least a few hours.

  All of the lights were off, including the one on my nightstand, and I was no longer lying on top of the bedspread, but was instead underneath the covers. Apparently, Illea had tucked me in when she’d returned from bowling. Bless her heart; I was starting to like her more and more.

  I got out of bed for a bathroom trip, examining the mirror to check for any new progress on my rejuvenation, but I looked about the same as I had this morning. I’d probably have to wait for next essence before turning eighteen again, but hey, I could be patient. I chuckled at the thought, recognizing that I’d really landed on my feet when fate had brought me to this mansion.

  After climbing back into bed, I realized I’d forgotten to pour myself a glass of water. It was funny, because even though I was craving it earlier, I really didn’t want it anymore. I tried to go back to sleep and tossed and turned for awhile but I was wide awake now. I couldn’t exactly get up, because everybody else was asleep and I didn’t know what I’d do if I did get up. I didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to go exploring by myself in the middle of the night because I didn’t even know where the light switches were in the public areas of the mansion. Come to think about it, I hadn’t even seen one. Maybe, like the disappearing doors, they too were invisible until you knew the trick.

  Oh, well, I thought, at least this would be a good time to sort out my thoughts about staying or leaving. After all, it was the first time that I’d been alone since my arrival that I hadn’t been either sick, asleep, or totally exhausted, so I fluffed up both my pillows and propped myself up in the bed. Yes, this would be the perfect opportunity to begin weighing my options, since I didn’t have much time to make such an important decision. My short answer to the conundrum would, of course, be to stay. I was having too much fun to leave. This place had a lot to offer and my decision would have a been simple one if my stay would have involved only a few weeks or maybe even a few months. But this was the rest of my life which hung in the balance and that was quite a different matter indeed.

  Unfortunately, as always, the catch continued to be my amnesia, which remained as pervasive as ever. It really was unfair of anyone to ask me to come to such a permanent, life-altering conclusion in such a short time without the benefit of being able to consult my own memories. Maybe if I jogged them a little bit, something might start to come back.

  I thought I’d begin with the obvious questions. Top of the list was, how did I get here in the first place? No one seemed to know. Why was I even here? No one seemed to know that, either. Where was I before I arrived here? No answer there. Crap. I was just a little bundle of mysteries, wasn’t I? I was finding out that being a woman of mystery was a lot less fun than it was cracked up to be, especially when the primarily a mystery was yourself.

  Okay, then, maybe I should just play it safe and take Ben up on his offer to get me home. I didn’t want to do that, but how could I possibly give myself permission to leave everything behind until my memories returned? I couldn’t. But what if they never returned? Ben said that I wouldn’t get a second chance at this opportunity and if my memories didn’t appear, then where would I be? I’d be out in the cold, hard world with amnesia for goodness knows how long, maybe even forever. I didn’t like that outcome one iota. Damn, why couldn’t I remember my own life? This was so fucking unfair!

  In an attempt to quell a growing frustration inside of me, I made a conscious effort to concentrate on the positives. Considering my memory loss, maybe this mansion was the most protective environment for me, when all was said and done. Why not stay? After all, I’d found the fountain of youth here, hadn’t I, and mankind had been looking for that since forever. What more did I want? I’d never get any older if I stayed here, just younger and younger until I reached my perfect age. On top of that, I’d just keep getting prettier as well.

  This place had so many perks. On a very practical level, as far as I knew, there was no paperwork here and no taxes. I didn’t even need an income. Everything was provided and it was all first class. This was a storybook lifestyle, simple, uncomplicated, filled only with pleasure and privilege. This should have been a no-brainer, but I was stressing. I’d found a gift utopia, so why was I looking it in the mouth? I’d never find a better deal than this one anywhere because there was no better deal anywhere. Why not stay?

  The answer always came down to only two things: my memory, which was beyond my control, and their religion, which still disturbed me. While I’d never been a particularly religious person, this goddess-worship thing bothered me deeply for a reason I couldn’t even comprehend. Maybe it was because I’d always been warned of cults and let’s face it, you could slap lipstick on this place and call it normal, but when all was said and done, it was still a cult, wasn’t it? Then why wasn’t it setting off alarm bells with me right and left? Maybe it was because it was such an unusual cult. Everybody was so casual here and no one had asked me for my life savings yet. Instead, all they wanted to do was to give me things, and very nice things, as a matter of fact. They’d made no attempt of any kind so far to force me into their beliefs and had actually promised me that they never would.

  Oh, I hated this going back and forth. It was time for me to make up my mind. The heck with all of my arguments. This place was agreeing with me and there was no denying it. I felt good here. I liked it and I liked the people. They were friendly and nice and they really wanted me to join them. If I stayed, I’d never be lonely again; and even though I couldn’t remember it, something told me that I was lonely a lot of the time back home, wherever home was.

  Of course, there were the obvious drawbacks, which continued to be Geoffrey and the three odd women. If the Sisters were really as harmless and easy to redirect as Illea maintained, however, I could work around them. That left only Geoffrey, who remained not so easy to ignore. Would he keep his promise to Ben and mind his manners? If not, would Arrosha actually step in to straighten him out? Oh, wouldn’t he just love me for that! I was sure he’d find a way to blame her intervention on me as well. No matter how I looked at it, the Geoffrey scenario left a lot to be desired. My instincts told me that no matter how it played out, he could make it uncomfortable enough for me to regret staying. It never took much to
o much sabotage to wreck an otherwise good thing and the right kind of hostile person could make or break an entire situation. Geoffrey struck me as that right kind of person. After all, it took only one snake to ruin the Garden of Eden.

  Oh, the heck with Geoffrey. I was tired of that little prick. I was staying and if he didn’t like me here, I’d just let Ben deal with him. I’d made up my mind and that was that. Unless something drastic happened to convince me otherwise, the next time I saw Ben, I’d tell him that I was staying.

  Now that the crucial decision was made, I was ready to go back to sleep again, my mind clear. As I rearranged my pillows to lie down, though, I heard a voice whisper. It was so soft at first that I could make out only my name. It gradually became louder and louder, until I was finally able to hear what it was saying.

  “Ashley, Ashley, get up. Get up now,” the voice whispered to me. “You’ve got to get out of here before it’s too late. You have got to escape.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  With a start, I sat up in bed, expecting to see one of my new housemates, but when I looked around, there was no one there.

  “Hello? Who are you?” I asked, keeping my voice down to avoid waking Illea, but I heard no answer.

  I rose from my bed and, careful to be quiet, searched the room, the closet, and the bathroom, but found no one. The voice had been so soft and seemed to come almost from within my own head. Could I have imagined it? Before settling on that answer, I stepped over to the window to check if the voice could perhaps have been coming from the garden below and peeked out from behind the closed drapes. While it was still pitch dark outside, my enhanced night vision combined with the outdoor night lighting to reveal no one in the open. Unless the mystery man was hiding in the bushes, I had, indeed, imagined the voice.

  I remained at the window for a few moments, transfixed by the small, soft, twinkling lights that adorned the garden. From this angle, I could not see the light sources themselves, but I could tell that most of them seemed to be coming from the statuary that decorated the estate. The effect was beautiful, almost as if stars had fallen from the heavens for the sole purpose of adorning the grounds. As I stood there, entranced by the beautiful illusion, my reverie was broken short by another plea from the disembodied voice.

  “Ashley!” the voice, still just a loud whisper, called again, this time its plea more emphatic. I still could not fathom its source, for it seemed to be coming from all directions simultaneously.

  “Ashley,” it continued, “The third floor conservatory. Come here, please come here. I need to talk to you. I’ll explain when you get here. There’s not much time. Please. Be quiet and use the staircase. Don’t wake anyone.”

  I’d been surrounded by too many strange things since my recent return to consciousness at the mansion to question my own sanity, so I decided to do as the voice directed, since its urgency seemed sincere.

  Barefoot, I left the bedroom, closing the door behind me without noise, and walked out upon the thick hall carpet. Once outside, a soft, ambient light illuminated the way, emanating from the general direction of the Great Room.

  “Ashley, Ashley, hurry. Please, hurry,” the soft, low voice called once more. This time, though, it seemed to be coming from the same general direction as the light ahead. Again it instructed me to go to the third floor, the floor I had not yet seen, the floor that I was told was still forbidden for me to enter. I would never have thought of entering that floor of my own volition, because I did not want to violate Ben’s trust, but I seemed to have little choice. I didn’t know if it was because the voice seemed so urgent, as if my cooperation was a matter of life or death, or if this voice had cast some kind of spell upon me. Either way, I felt compelled to comply.

  I continued to tip-toe down the hall, careful not to disturb the sleep of the others. The soft light became more and more bright as I grew closer to its source. The spell the voice had cast over me was suddenly broken as I stopped in my tracks just before reaching the turn-off to the elevator. I saw the source of the light that had been leading my way and I was horrified. My mind returned to Ben’s admiration of Arrosha’s ability to hide certain features of the mansion from viewing until one took a few more steps and saw them grandly unveiled. This, apparently, was one of those grand unveilings. The paintings and sculptures of the mansion’s gallery area came suddenly into view, there all along, unseen until this very second. The gentle illumination which was lighting my way originated from the dozens of glowing eyes of the paintings and the sculptures which now seemed infused with life, watching and studying me. While my eyes remained locked upon the paintings out of fear, my muscles froze and my legs became capable of moving my body in one direction only, and that was backward, away from the gallery. The railing stopped me when I reached it and it was with trepidation that I peeked down at the Great Room in hope of a place to flee, only to find all of its sculptures and frescoes, eyes glowing, staring at me as well.

  The sense of unease that so often seemed to accompany Ben’s absence began to make sense along with a flash of memory that had deserted me following the essence. I now remembered the episode with the statues when Ben had left me for a few minutes yesterday to check on whether the essence was ready. It had frightened so me terribly, how could I have forgotten it so soon? Along with that incident, how could I have possibly forgotten so many vitally important things? I realized now that this was no ordinary amnesia I suffered. Someone wanted me to forget. But why?

  Correcting my angle somewhat, I continued to back away toward the direction of my bedroom. I needed to get away from this art that was no longer beauty but was now instead monstrosity. I wanted to go back to my room, close the door, crawl back into my bed and pull the covers over me. I wanted to forget completely what these objects turned into at night. So this was what the lights outside in the garden were, the lights that only minutes before I had thought were so beautiful. They were the eyes of the statuary and they had seen me as I’d peeked out from behind the drapes.

  Afraid to turn my gaze away from the eerie, glowing eyes, I continued to inch backward toward my bedroom, never turning around, never taking my eyes off the paintings that refused to take their eyes off of me.

  I’d retreated only a few feet when I heard the voice again calling me.

  “Ashley,” it implored me. “You can’t go back. I must speak with you. You must come to the third floor. You have to enter the temple.”

  “No,” I whispered aloud. “Leave me alone. This is as far as I go.”

  “Please Ashley. There’s not much time. I have to show you something. It’s important.”

  “If it’s that important, tell me here.”

  “I can’t tell you. You need to see it, you need to do it. You’re safe for now, but I don’t know for how long. You must hurry.”

  “No. Those eyes…”

  “They can’t hurt you. Please Ashley, lives depend on you, many lives.”

  “Are you sure they can’t hurt me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But they all look so angry.”

  “They’re angry because they’re trapped, captives of the artwork in which they live. Even if they had the ability to hurt you, they wouldn’t use it. You’re the only one that can help them, that can free them and they all know that.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, but hurry. You must leave this mansion. You must get out of here now.”

  I don’t know why I trusted the voice earlier, but after seeing all of these glowing eyes, I knew now. It was right, it spoke the truth. Of that I was certain. I did have to get out of here before it was too late. I shuddered to think that only a few minutes earlier, I was ready to remain, to throw my lot in with the group at this estate. Before Ben had convinced me to stay, I wondered what the catch was and now I knew. All of this luxury and indulgence was too good to be true, for it was dead evil which dwelt here, wasn’t it, not divine goodness. A part of me was relieved, despite my fear, for I had dodged an ultimate temp
tation and found out the truth before it was too late.

  I stopped my retreat and began to move forward once again into the recessed gallery. I kept my eyes cast downward, staring at my feet to avoid chancing eye contact with the unnerving artwork. As I guided myself by my peripheral vision, I was unable to block out the light of their stares completely. I could feel the glaring paintings bore into me from all sides, but managed to keep going despite the knot in my stomach.

  As I approached the spiral staircase, I was forced to look up again in order to orient myself within the room. For a few seconds, I was mesmerized by the eyes of the otherwise still works, as if they were collectively willing me to look directly at them. As I moved, wherever I moved, they followed me with their eerie, living eyes. I noticed that while the paintings had remained still, the facial expressions had not. While some of the art appeared to be in the throws of tremendous terror, even pain, the rest of it now looked angry, furious, even murderous. I clung to the promise from the voice that they were not able to hurt me, because they knew I was their only hope for freedom. I sensed, however, that were I able to free them this very second, while some would thank for it, others would only kill me for my efforts.

  “Ashley,” the soft voice spurred me on once again. “You’ve got to keep going. You’re almost here. Don’t stop. Hurry, there isn’t much time.”

  I continue my walk toward the spiral staircase, giving a wide berth to the statue they called The Saints which stood so near the spiral staircase, for I feared it would come to life and grab me, since I had to pass right by it. Their eyes, which had been closed were now wide open and staring straight at me. But when I looked at them, instead of frightening me even more, they actually calmed me. I understood now a new reason why their name fit so well, for of all the works here, they seemed to have accepted their fate with extreme peace. Their eyes seemed to be encouraging me, urging me on to continue my journey up to the third floor and whatever it held for me.