 A visit on Halloween 1951: Annette Flemming Excerpt:  Sam scuffled to the bathroom door. “Oh, Sam,” Annette said. “You scared the bejesus out of me.” Sam sat in front of the bathroom door, panting as if he’d run a few miles, a whining, fearful wheeze beneath his breath. His tongue dripped across his canine teeth. Knock. Knock! Sam whimpered, rolled his tongue in, and backed away from the bedroom door. Annette surveyed the room. Another trick-or-treater? Maybe, she thought, but at this late hour? Anything is possible. She looked in the mirror, stretched her nose to make sure all the blood was gone (it was), then took a glance through the open window. The street was empty although leaves were bustling in the wind being carried on its heels. Thunder! Lightning! Strong wind getting stronger! She closed the window and locked it, then pulled off her towel—wiping some dried blood from her chest with it—and tossed her nightgown over her shoulders followed by a thick velvety robe. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. KNOCK! Is this a joke, she thought and hurried to the hall, knotting the robe around her stomach as she stomped to the stairs when lightning and thunder rolled together. Knock! Knock! Maybe they need help? Knock! She raced down the stairs. Knock, knock. More like a tapping this time. Or maybe a rapping. She couldn’t remember which one. Rap Rap Rap. She approached the door, reached for the dead bolt, and paused. Her hand pulled away from the lock as if it had a mind all its own. Her left hand on the doorknob, her right hand found the middle of the door and gently rested on the thick wood. She stretched her neck to the window. Staring back were those kids, and Annette recoiled from the window. Her stomach churned. Rap Rap. She was about to scream but held her hand over her mouth instead. “Who is it?” she stuttered, a crack in her speech. The voice that answered was monotone and matter of fact. She couldn’t tell if it were boy or girl. “May we come in?” “Why do you need to come in? Was there an accident? Do you need an ambulance?” “May we come in?” Pause. Brow furrowed. She pursed her lips and swallowed. “Where are your parents? Aren’t they with you?” Another pause. “They’ll be here soon. May we come in?” Annette nervously and slowly peeked through the window. As if this was anticipated, the little one was looking, staring, blank faced and…peculiar. Yes- the clothes were tattered, but what does that mean, their parents are poor? Probably trick-or-treating in the good neighborhood. But there was more not yet revealed. Their eyes, Annette thought. What’s wrong with their eyes? The little one, boy or girl she wasn’t sure although the dress definitely indicated girl, was mesmerized and blank faced. And the eyes. Yes, Annette could see it now. Her eyes were pitch black! No pupils, no iris, just jet, metallic bulging black eyeballs. It was the older one who continued to speak through the door. “May we come in? Our parents will be here soon.” Annette noticed Sam wasn’t barking. Noticed Sam wasn’t anywhere close to Annette. “May we come in?” Thunder! Lightning! Annette’s breath stuttered, constricted. She snapped her head around, looking through the hallway. Pitter patter pelts of rain snapped against the back windows. Lightning illuminated an empty backyard. There’s no one there, no one out back. Am I going to leave needy children out in a rainstorm? Then the little girl said, “Let us in!” Annette knew it came from the little one because the voice changed. Although still monotone there was a softness to it only little children carried. The wind lifted into a frenzy. The rain fell hard now, showering the windows. Thunder. Lightning. Wind. Rain. Heavy rain. “Can we come in?” “Parents will be here soon.” “Let us in.” Annette caught sight of Sam at the top of the stairs. The retriever cowered in anticipation of Annette’s next move. Now the storm strengthened with a swirling, squall filled wind that howled through the house. She gripped the dead bolt, and Sam whimpered and whined and rushed down the hall to the bedroom. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “They’re just kids.” Golem Hardcover |
Archives
April 2023
|
RSS Feed
|
|