overheardinateashop

[overheardinateashop]

The Secret

It's a beautiful blue house by the sea. The plaster curves appealingly, the style somewhat reminiscent of a blend of old Spanish mission, and Italian Mediterranean. A friendly westerly wind was known to stir up the perfectly manicured palms that dotted the strip of fertile land by the house. It was not uncommon for the sound to blur out the crashing of the waves.

Safely esconced in it's ample spaces, a family of three lives in relative privacy. A father, a mother, and their enchanting daughter. All three the pits of fashion, the father was never seen without his dressing coat or in suit and shirt, shaved. The women were always on their dressing gowns, hair permanently locked in finger waves. They always seemed prepared for guests, even though none ever came.

There are hands that worked about the house, but they are forbidden from interaction. None of them will be able to tell you who forbade them, and none of them ever break their silence. They enter, do their work, leave and get paid. A slightly vocal one down at the pub after a day of work might tell you only that the pay is good, so why mess that up?

A secret lives in this house though. Everyone who knows about the house, knows this. What it is? Well, that's anybody's guess. Some say it's the father, that he locks his family away, looking to keep them to himself. Others say it's the daughter, that she is aggressive, angry, and thereby a shame to her family.

All seem to agree, though, that the mother is the loser in the situation.

Many remembered her from before- a sweet young woman with a kind manner. But she was so young when she married the foreigner, people say. The foreigner did it to her- whether because of his selfishness, or their daughter and her mania. Either way, the poor poor mother.

The mother doesn't view herself as pitiable, though. To her, life is close to perfection. Yes, there were some oddities, but overall, her family was a kind and loving home. One that she was fine sharing with none other than with the two she loved dearly.

Father decided to keep them home safe, just the three of them when their daughter was born. It wasn't long after the war, and Mother agreed. It was a crazy place, the world had become, and they were all safer for it.

Especially once it started happening. First it was the baby blankets. Two identical ones. It was impossible to tell which one was which. When her daughter was wrapped in one of them, she was settled, peaceful, and a pleasant baby. But if the two were mixed up, somehow, her daughter became inconsolable. Angry, red-faced, she'd scream all hours of the night.

Mother became better at separating the two blankets, and it kept the angry child at bay. And as the little girl grew up and out of her baby blankets, the tantrums and such disappeared. Finally certain that her daughter had outgrown the blankets, she took both to her upstairs bedroom window.

Unable to discern which blanket held the ill affects on her daughter, she sacrificed the good with the evil, and let fly.

A few years of peace passed, until a package came in the mail from her daughter's grandmother from over seas. Inside, were three beautiful hand knitted scarves. Completely identical to the stitch. Mother checked.

Fear ruled Mother for a few weeks. She lived with the worry that her daughter would be beset with the same darkness that had plagued her as a baby and toddler. But weeks passed with no change in her daughter's behavior.

Father would dismiss Mother's fears, pointing to the years of peace the family had.

But then it happened. One of the scarves received a small tear. Mother repaired it, but was dismayed to realize that all three of the scarves had received the same tear- and the same repair. It didn't change overnight, but something grew.

Within a few weeks, the scarves had gone from completely indistinguishable, to fully unique. While visibly the same, the affect they had on her daughter had become extreme. Within a few days, Mother's concern returned.

But both Father and their daughter refused to allow Mother to throw away the scarves.

The first one she noticed was the playful one. She'd have the scarf wrapped around her hips like, as she was wont to say, "a belly-dancer from Arabia."

Invariably, her daughter would be playful that day, flitting from one room to the next, one way with a book to read in the study, that way with a sketch pad to draw in the garden. Those days were always filled with joy and laughter.

A few days later, she noticed the second scarf. When her daughter was using that scarf, she would wrap her finger waves or soft ringlets in it, like she had seen the classy women in the cinema pictures they watched in the basement. The women in the Bentleys and the Mercedes, with the top down, despite her daughter never having ridden in a vehicle before.

Quieter, more demure, and coy, the young woman would spend hours getting ready for the day, only to spend it out at the edge of the land, large sunglasses on, staring out over the sea. These days were spent quiet, in contemplation, and Mother would have to admit, lonely.

But it was still better than the day that her daughter found the third scarf again.

It had been a cold day, the friendly westerly wind being overwhelmed by a northerly intruder. The northern wind slipped it's claws in under eaves and through cracks in the plaster. All woke in the house with a chill.

It was a bitter cold- one that the area hadn't seen in years. And though the sun rose on a clear morning, the foliage was brown and burnt.

Morning was a subdued affair, contrary to their usual manner. Both Mother and Father sat at the table, layers of clothes wrapped tight around them, huddled to themselves to conserve body heat.

Their daughter emerged from the kitchen, a steaming kettle and mugs in tow. She, too, had multiple layers on, but the scarf rested over her shoulders above everything else. It caught Mother's eyes, and she stared it down. Instantly, she knew the evil had returned to her family.

Placing the steaming mug down in front of Father, her daughter offered up a dazzling smile. For a moment, Mother held on to the hope that she had misjudged- that this was a different scarf. Then her daughter turned to her.

The brilliant blues of her daughter's eyes were dark, soulless. Mother had tried to smile, to hope that the darkness would be waylaid. Her daughter smiled vaguely- and threw the steaming hot liquid at Mother.

Both Father and her daughter jumped up to help, but Mother laughingly, hysterically shooed them away, only to retreat to her bedroom for the rest of the day.

From that point forward, Mother watched keenly her daughter's scarves. And when the scarf was draped across her daughter's shoulders, she would proceed with caution. Those days were often fraught with fear and small calamities.

Once, Mother tried to explain the change, the scarves, to Father and what affect they had on their daughter, but he refused to see it. So Mother took it upon herself to protect her family from the evil.

It was another cold night- rainy and windy- many years later that she decided to make the final decision.

Throughout the day, her enchanting daughter waltzed about the house, her scarf pulled tight to her head, every perfect strand of hair encapsulated behind it's constriction. Unable to go out to her usual seaside escape due to the weather, she consoled herself with pacing about the house, staring out windows and deeply sighing.

In one of the circuits, she decided to make some tea "to warm our bones".

Reemerging from the kitchen, steaming kettle and mugs on the silver tray, her scarf had become lose, falling to her shoulders. It had taken Mother a moment to recognize it's meaning, one almost to late.

The scarf- the evil- had learned to hide in plain sight, under the guise of another. Hot tea now in hand, she watched in horror as her daughter handed Father his tea. Holding her breath, she was amazed to see nothing untoward occur.

Letting out a noisy sigh, she stared down into her dark steaming tea, allowing the warmth and smell wash over her, cleansing her off her worry. But when she rose her eyes, she was shocked to see her daughter's eyes dark, looking back at her.

The world darkened around her, and she knew what she had to do. Worry spewed from her daughter's mouth, but the manner, the look in her daughter's eyes--

Slowly, she reached for the silver tray, a white knuckled grip on it. Her daughter's words became a white noise, but her motions were enough. Moving inhumanly fast towards Mother, the older woman wound up, swinging hard and fast at her daughter and the darkness that rode on her shoulders.

It was a loud clang that echoed through the house was repeated by the crash of thunder outside.

The evil around her daughter's shoulders fell away, and Father and Daughter stared in shock.

It's darkness now released from her daughter, Mother tried to explain what she had seen, but noone listened. Her daughter quickly fled the room, Father following after to comfort.

For a long moment, she stared down the lifeless evil now before her, unsure how to handle it. Struck with inspiration, Mother was reminded of what she had done with the past iteration of this evil. Snatching up the scarf, she began her trek up the stairs.

This time the good didn't have to go with the bad. This time she knew where the evil resided.

Flinging open the bedroom window, she felt the northerly wind tug at the lifeless vestige. Holding it out over the precipice, it moved with an unearthly jolting and whipping, as if the evil had come to life in her hands.

Abstractly, she heard Father's voice, trying to stop her but she ignored the cries. She knew what she needed to do to stop the evil in the house.

With no remorse, she let the evil out into the darkness and the rain and the thunder.

Her daughter's cry turned her, the rising welt red on her face in stark contrast to the ghostly pall that had settled on the young woman Tears gathered at her eyes, and her daughter burst out of the room. Father started to follow, but stopped, pulled from both sides.

He took a deep breath, then turned back to Mother. Slowly and calmly, he shut the windows that had been left loose by Mother's hastiness. Turning back to Mother he opened his mouth to speak when he heard the front door swing open.

Eyes wide, Mother and Father shared a look of fear before bolting for the door. There was only one other person in the house besides Mother and Father, but their daughter would know better in this storm--

Despite their hope, the door was wide open to the darkness, rain and thunder. 

The pitch darkness frightened Mother. She had let loose that evil into the storm, and the beat of the storm echoed the rhythm of the darkness. It was akin to staring down the open maw of a beast. 

Father, without pause, plunged into the black, their daughter's name calling out into the dark. Mother, on the other hand stood paralyzed. Slowly, she backed into the nearest chair, staring unblinkingly into the void. 

Time passed- minutes or hours, Mother couldn't tell- before Father reentered the light, soaked to the bone. 

And alone. 

A sleepless night ensued. Both of them waited by an open door into the dark, as the wind whipped through the house. But as the morning rose gray and calm, there was still no sight of their daughter. 

Like a man rising from a great slumber, Father rose from his chair. He reached out a hand to Mother, and together they walked out into the din. 

The sand of the beach was beaten firm, washing away any signs of their daughter. They walked silently hand in hand for a while. Waves lapped softly at the shore, more akin to a lake compared to the pounding waves of the night before.

Something interrupted the gentle undulations a few feet away from the breaking point of the waves. Father pulled away,. Moving slowly at first, but as he entered the water, his pace picked up until he reached the disturbance. 

A heart shattering cry slipped from his lips as he fell to his knees. With trembling hands, he reached into the water. After a few moments, a limp cloth emerged from the water, as Father righted himself.

As he neared, Mother recognized the cloth in his hand. Father reached out his hand to her, and she took it hesitantly, an eye constantly on the wet fabric. They walked in silence as they returned to the house. 

Nearing the house, though, Mother tugged at Father's hand, stopping herself. She begged him not to bring the scarf- the evil- back into the house, but her cries fell on deaf ears. Father moved silently on, releasing her hand. 

Weeks passed and Mother kept an eye out for her daughter, but she never returned. But the evil did. 

She wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line, Father obtained three identical jackets....

----

This is in the style of The Twilight Zone. I'd love feedback!

There's more to this story than meets the eye- I'd love to hear what you think it might be!

[overheardinateashop]

I didn’t realise that even a short review could be so important! 

Review, review! 

[overheardinateashop]

Resources For Describing Emotion

Emotions

Without Making Your Character Feel Too Self Aware

Showing Emotion Without Telling About It

Emotions Associated With Body Language

Telling Readers What The Character Doesn’t Want To Show

Hiding Emotions

Expressing Cardinal Emotions: Masculine vs. Feminine

Writing Extreme Emotion Without Melodrama

Specific Emotions

Conveying Shock

Conveying Embarrassment

Conveying Disappointment

Conveying Love/Attraction

Conveying Annoyance

Conveying Relief

Conveying Uncertainty

Conveying Impatience

Conveying Shame

Conveying Resentment

Conveying Panic

Conveying Guilt

Conveying Desperation

Conveying Sarcasm & Verbal Disrespect

Conveying Confusion

Conveying Stubbornness

Conveying Frustration

Conveying Indifference

Conveying Indignation

Conveying Confidence & Pride

Conveying Smugness

Conveying Enthusiasm

Conveying Curiosity

Conveying Hopefulness

Conveying Unease

Conveying Reluctance

Conveying Worry

Conveying Humility & Meekness

Conveying Happiness & Joy

Conveying Amusement

Conveying Disgust

Conveying Resignation

Conveying Jealousy

Conveying Anticipation

Conveying Contentment

Conveying Defeat

Conveying Excitement

Conveying Fear

Conveying Hatred

Conveying Hurt

Conveying Being Overwhelmed

Conveying Sadness & Grief

Conveying Satisfaction

Conveying Somberness

Conveying Sympathy & Empathy

Conveying Wariness

Conveying Defensiveness

Conveying Desire

Conveying Doubt

Conveying Energy

Conveying Exhaustion

Conveying Hunger

Conveying Loneliness

Conveying Physical Pain

Emotional Wounds

A Role Model Who Disappoints

A Sibling’s Betrayal

A Speech Impediment

Becoming a Caregiver at an Early Age

Being Bullied

Being Fired or Laid Off

Being Held Captive

Being Mugged

Being Publicly Humiliated

Being Raised by Neglectful Parents

Being Raised by Overprotective Parents

Being So Beautiful It’s All People See

Being the Victim of a Vicious Rumor

Being Stalked

Being Trapped in a Collapsed Building

Being Unfairly Blamed For The Death of Another

Childhood Sexual Abuse (by a family member or known person)

Discovering One’s Parent is a Monster

Discovering One’s Sibling was Abused

Experiencing a Miscarriage or Stillbirth

Failing At School

Failing To Do The Right Thing

Financial Ruin Due To A Spouse’s Irresponsibility

Finding Out One’s Child Was Abused

Finding Out One Was Adopted

Getting Lost In a Natural Environment

Growing Up In A Cult

Growing Up in a Dangerous Neighborhood

Growing Up In Foster Care

Growing Up In The Public Eye

Growing Up In The Shadow of a Successful Sibling

Growing Up with a Sibling Who Has a Chronic Disability or Illness

Having Parents Who Favored One Child Over Another

Having To Kill Another Person To Survive

Infertility

Infidelity (emotional or physical)

Losing a Limb

Losing a Loved One To A Random Act of Violence

Making a Very Public Mistake

Overly Critical or Strict Parents

Physical Disfigurement

Rejection By One’s Peers

Telling The Truth But Not Being Believed

The Death of a Child On One’s Watch

Victimization via Identity Theft

Watching A Loved One Die

Wrongful Imprisonment

Spending Time In Jail

Suffering From a Learning Disability

Motivation

Achieving Spiritual Enlightenment

Avoiding Certain Death

Avoiding Financial Ruin

Beating a Diagnosis or Condition

Being Acknowledged and Appreciated by Family

Being a Leader of Others

Being the Best At Something

Caring for an Aging Parent

Carrying on a Legacy

Catching The Bad Guy or Girl

Coming To Grips With Mental Illness

Discovering One’s True Self

Escaping a Dangerous Life one Doesn’t Want

Escaping a Killer

Escaping a Widespread Disaster

Escaping Confinement

Escaping Homelessness

Escaping Invaders

Finding Friendship or Companionship

Finding a Lifelong Partner

Having a Child

Helping a Loved One See They Are Hurting Themselves and Others

Obtaining Shelter From The Elements

Overcoming Abuse and Learning To Trust

Overcoming Addiction

Protecting One’s Home or Property

Pursuing Justice For Oneself or Others

Realizing a Dream

Reconciling with an Estranged Family Member

Rescuing a Loved One From a Captor

Restoring A Name or Reputation

Righting a Deep Wrong

Seeking Out One’s Biological Roots

Stopping an Event From Happening

Trying Again When One Has Previously Failed

Support Wordsnstuff!

Request A Writing Help Post/Themed Playlist/Writing Tips!

Send Me Poetry To Feature On Our Instagram!

Receive Updates & Participate In Polls On Our Twitter!

Like us and share on Facebook!

Read More On Our Masterlist & See our Frequently Asked Questions!

Tag What You Want Me To See With #wordsnstuff!

Participate in monthly writing challenges!

[overheardinateashop]

1130

A shattered mind

Playing broken melodies

Leads the dance

At her spectral ball.

With flowers in arms

And pain in her chest

She packs up gifts

For maddened charity.

Sickened love

Now twice betrayed

Wrings dry all wit

And leaves sanity behind.

Many a flower played

In her steady hands

Twisting and twirling

Till crown was made

High above brook bubbling.

A snap, a crack

And all came tumbling

Till disquieted mind

came to rest silently,

Water-sodden and muddy

On brook's bed.

[overheardinateashop]

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

Medicine

A Study In Physical Injury

Comas

Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs

Broken Bones

Burns

Unconsciousness & Head Trauma

Blood Loss

Stab Wounds

Pain & Shock

All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)

Writing Specific Characters

Portraying a kleptomaniac.

Playing a character with cancer.

How to portray a power driven character.

Playing the manipulative character.

Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.

Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.

Writing a character who lost someone important.

Playing the bullies.

Portraying the drug dealer.

Playing a rebellious character.

How to portray a sociopath.

How to write characters with PTSD.

Playing characters with memory loss.

Playing a pyromaniac.

How to write a mute character.

How to write a character with an OCD.

How to play a stoner.

Playing a character with an eating disorder.

Portraying a character who is anti-social.

Portraying a character who is depressed.

How to portray someone with dyslexia.

How to portray a character with bipolar disorder.

Portraying a character with severe depression.

How to play a serial killer.

Writing insane characters.

Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.

Tips on writing a drug addict.

How to write a character with HPD.

Writing a character with Nymphomania.

Writing a character with schizophrenia.

Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Writing a character with depression.

Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.

Writing a character with paranoid personality disorder.

How to play a victim of rape.

How to play a mentally ill/insane character.

Writing a character who self-harms.

Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.

How to play the stalker.

How to portray a character high on cocaine.

Playing a character with ADHD.

How to play a sexual assault victim.

Writing a compulsive gambler.

Playing a character who is faking a disorder.

Playing a prisoner.

Portraying an emotionally detached character.

How to play a character with social anxiety.

Portraying a character who is high.

Portraying characters who have secrets.

Portraying a recovering alcoholic.

Portraying a sex addict.

How to play someone creepy.

Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.

Playing a character under the influence of drugs.

Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.

Illegal Activity

Examining Mob Mentality

How Street Gangs Work

Domestic Abuse

Torture

Assault

Murder

Terrorism

Internet Fraud

Cyberwarfare

Computer Viruses

Corporate Crime

Political Corruption

Drug Trafficking

Human Trafficking

Sex Trafficking

Illegal Immigration

Contemporary Slavery 

Black Market Prices & Profits

AK-47 prices on the black market

Bribes

Computer Hackers and Online Fraud

Contract Killing

Exotic Animals

Fake Diplomas

Fake ID Cards, Passports and Other Identity Documents

Human Smuggling Fees

Human Traffickers Prices

Kidney and Organ Trafficking Prices

Prostitution Prices

Cocaine Prices

Ecstasy Pills Prices

Heroin Prices

Marijuana Prices

Meth Prices

Earnings From Illegal Jobs

Countries In Order Of Largest To Smallest Risk

Forensics

arson

Asphyxia

Blood Analysis

Book Review

Cause & Manner of Death

Chemistry/Physics

Computers/Cell Phones/Electronics

Cool & Odd-Mostly Odd

Corpse Identification

Corpse Location

Crime and Science Radio

crime lab

Crime Scene

Cults and Religions

DNA

Document Examination

Fingerprints/Patterned Evidence

Firearms Analysis

Forensic Anthropology

Forensic Art

Forensic Dentistry

Forensic History

Forensic Psychiatry

General Forensics

Guest Blogger

High Tech Forensics

Interesting Cases

Interesting Places

Interviews

Medical History

Medical Issues

Misc

Multiple Murderers

On This Day

Poisons & Drugs

Police Procedure

Q&A

serial killers

Space Program

Stupid Criminals

Theft

Time of Death

Toxicology

Trauma