thehearthwolf - Tumblr blog

thehearthwolf · 9 months ago

Text

The Doll's House

Word Count: 7405

genre: horror/supernatural

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Creator Chose not to Use Archive Warnings (sorry, I'm not the best at knowing what to tag, so I'm using AO3 tags) There's blood.

Summary: Three friends come across a doll as they fix up their "new" house.

If you would rather listen to the story, it also is on YouTube.

“Why did we buy this house again?”

“Because it was a good price and we’re fools.”

“Okay but why?” I said, gesturing to the wall which now housed our second rusty pickaxe. Finding the first one was a little creepy, but it was stuck in a stump outside, so it made a little sense. This one. This one was stuck in the wall. In one of the closets. Inside the house.

I made a mental note to never go into the basement ever again. I did not need to find myself face to face with a pickaxed killer.

“Uh, he missed in his murder attempts?” My roommate Steve guessed, shrinking behind me. Which was hard for him as Steve was a tall guy with muscles larger than my head. He would have looked intimidating if it wasn’t for his large innocent eyes. Instead, he gave the impression of a rather large puppy.

Turning my head in disgust, I asked, “Why you gotta say creepy shit like that?”

“Because, Dan, it’s creepy. And it makes sense.”

“If there was a murder here, by law, they have to tell us.” A woman came walking in, her arms full with a large box. She was a tall, striking woman; her long hair tied up into a ponytail. But unlike Steve, she was intimidating. She adjusted her glasses with one hand, the other doing just fine holding the large box on its own. Her resting face looked that of someone who just had their dog insulted. Nice person though. Just a scary face.

“Meryl, just because it’s a law doesn’t mean people will actually do it. It’s like that, ‘fifteen minutes and we go home’ rule in college. Especially since we bought it off of the family itself. I bet they’d have no clue.” I said, rolling my eyes.

The three of us had bought this house dirt cheap. The people who were selling it were distant relatives of the previous owner, so they knew little about the place other than the man never actually lived in it for long. It needed a lot of repairs and was sold as is.

I didn’t particularly mind as I wasn’t afraid of a little work, but this was starting to get ridiculous. So far, we had found three, very real looking, dolls, a really creepy photo from what we’re guessing as the early 1900’s, leaky bathrooms, lights that refused to turn on, creaking stairs when no one was on them, and we had only just started cleaning. Not to mention the old-style wall art everywhere that felt like a judgement on my tastes of decorating as a whole. But the kitchen was nice.

Steve shrugged. “I never said he was successful.”

Pinching my nose, I sighed, “Again, not helpful.”

Meryl came over. “Another pickaxe? Jeez, how many did this dude have?” Placing the box down at her feet, she grabbed the handle. As she was wiggling it, the tool started to get free.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I yelped, aghast, “What are you doing?”

Meryl gave me a look from behind her wired glasses. “I’m removing it from the wall, so we can, ya know, get rid of it.” She went back to pulling at it. I rushed forward, placing my hands on the handle to stop her. Glaring, she gave me ‘The Look.’ Her annoyed face. I gave a small, involuntary squeak.

“I-” It came out as an octave higher than normal. Clearing my throat, I tried again, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, what could be on the other side of that wall? Eyes? Bones? The dead?”

“A doll?” Steve added.

Meryl rolled her eyes. “Who’s not helping now?” She said, “Dan, you’re being dumb. Let me remove the stupid thing.” Moving me to the side, she gave a giant tug. The pickaxe surrendered its hold on the wall, along with a burst of wind, causing Meryl to stumble.

Silently we all stared at the new hole in the wall. From what I could see, the only thing inside was just normal drywall. “I-Is someone going to get a closer look?” Steve asked. I turned, wide eyed at him. He motioned for me to go forward. Shaking my head, I pointed him to the hole. He took a couple steps back. “N-No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Oh for crying out loud. I’ll do it.” Meryl snapped. As she went closer, she mumbled, “What a bunch of wimps.” She glanced down the hole. “No, nothing- wait, I do see something.” Shoving her arm in the space, she said, “Gah, it’s down there all right, but I think I can get it.”

I grabbed my head. “Meryl, what are you doing? You leave whatever it is inside that wall. We don’t need-” I stopped. Too late, she had successfully pulled it out. “You gotta be kidding me.” I groaned.

Another doll.

The paint on her was peeling off; her purple dress covered in dust, ripped up and full of holes. What was once pristine brown hair, now was a ball of knots and ribbon. One of her eyes was permanently closed.

Shutting my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You had to say doll.”

“Leave it in the wall. Leave it in the wall.” Steve chanted in panic. I nodded vigorously.

“Stop being wimps. We’ll just put her with the rest.” Meryl said, grimacing at the old toy. “And maybe call a clairvoyant.” She added.

Nodding, I said, “Let’s burn it. Just in case.”

A small noise came from behind the bedroom door. All three of us jumped, screaming. A black cat came trotting up, meowing some more.

Giving a heavy sigh of relief, I said, “Fluffy. You scared the life out of us.” The cat just stared at us. Steve gave him a pat on the head.

“Well, now that you scaredy-cats are done, I’m going to continue unpacking.” Meryl said, picking up her box.

I stared at our new creepy collection. “What about that stuff?”

“You can take it to the garage.”

“Me?” I spluttered.

“Yes, you. Take Steve with you if you’re so scared.” She said walking out of the room.

We stared wide eyed at each other with neither of us moving. “Guess we better get this over with.” I whimpered. Steve nodded vigorously; his mouth shut into a thin line. The cat now clutched tightly to his chest.

Groaning, I picked up the two things as if they could turn into a mob of spiders at any moment. Quickly shuffling down stairs, I tried to get this ordeal done as fast as possible. Steve followed closely, his feet nipping at my heels.

The garage was in a dire need of cleaning but in terms of repairs, it was fine. Cobwebs littered the ceiling. Only half the lights were working, casting a dim glow. The place was filled with boxes, as this was the safest place to store them as we fixed up the house. In the back corner were six barrels full of junk that we found or needed to toss.

Steve shuffled his feet at the door, still holding the cat. I gave a half smile. “Do you want to stay by the door?”

“Yes, please.” He whispered. Grinning apologetically, I continued on to the garbage by myself, now with a rock in my gut.

The cans were getting close to overflowing. I could just see the old photo from earlier, faded but the people in it were just visible. Three people stood proud, a man and two women with a child on one’s hip. The women looked to be almost exact copies. Both having chubby sort of cheeks, their hair done in curls, and wearing the classical dress of the 1900’s. Sisters is what we assumed. The man was probably a husband of one of them, of which we had no clue. He had a strong jaw and cold eyes. A pickaxe by his side. Made sense. A creepy pickaxe man, in a crazy pickaxe house.

The little girl, on what I guessed to be her mother’s hip, was cute. She was pretty young, no older than five. Part of her hand was in her mouth, a little blurry from the movement. In her other hand was a doll. She wore a cute frilly dress, with lace all about it. It matched that of her owner.

For the most part, the photo wasn’t actually creepy other than it just sitting here in this house over a hundred years later. I had watched a lot of scary movies to tell me to just throw it away. But if I was being honest, my gut was telling me to burn this house to the ground and just build a new one on top. Steve had been the one to point out that wouldn’t necessarily make the ghosts and bad luck go away.

Sighing, I tossed the pickaxe and doll in with the photo. With the toy staring up at me, the hair on the back of my neck rose. I grabbed for the photograph. Stepping into the light to see better, I stared intensely at the little girl. The doll. The rock in my stomach turned into a boulder. It was the exact same doll in the picture, only in better condition. Going back, I grabbed the toy to compare them. To make sure. Two little grey eyes stared up at me with the same expression of nothing.

Wait, wasn’t one of the eyes closed?

Tossing the thing with a yelp, I shuffled backwards. Dolls sometimes will have one of the eyes stick, yeah, no big deal. I rationed with myself. There was no way there was anything wrong with the toy. It could even be a different one. Maybe the previous owner was a collector and just so happened to store dolls in walls for the fun of it. Yeah, the previous owner just wanted to mess with us.

“Dan? What’s wrong?” Steve called out from the door.

The toy looked up at me with its blank expression. Shivering, I wondered if I should tell the others about my find or go put it back in the trash, never mentioning it again. Rubbing the stubble on my chin, I took one tentative step forward, my breath coming out in white puffs.

Wait. Why is it so cold? It’s summer.

A small cracking noise broke through the silence, as if an explosion went off.

“What was that?” Steve called out, panicked. He came inside the garage, cat now gone, and grabbed the back of my shirt. We stared at the toy in mute horror together.

A fissure appeared on the doll’s face. Move. The sweat that was once dripping off of me were like icicles as her face slowly broke. Move. The gap on her face grew wider by the second. Move. White smoke started to spiral out. MOVE. The smoke was formless. But it was not long before it took shape.

Three hapless figures floated next to each other. They all considered each other, two of them dissipated back into smoke, raising up through the ceiling. The remaining one’s features started to form into more of a clearer person.

A young woman stood before me. Her face was round, soft, but her eyes were sharp and cold. Full of rage. I knew that face. After all, I had only just seen it. She was the women in the photo. Except for the eyes. They were the man’s. She must be the daughter, all grown up. Instead of a little frilly dress, she wore what I imagined to be the wedding gown of her time. It was ripped, the ends matted with something. Mud? Blood? I could not tell in her ghostly form. As for the top of her clothes, I knew for a fact that it was covered in blood as her neck had an opened wound across it. There was no debate there.

Tilting her head, she considered me. Her lips curled into a crooked smile. Rasping out, she said, “Marry?” Her voice sounded as if someone ran their nails down a chalkboard. Steve screamed. With a jolt, I was finally able to move. Stumbling backwards, I blindly fumbled for the garage door, pulling my friend along.

The ghost followed suit. Extending out her hand, she tried to grab a hold of me. It was matted in what I could only imagine as the same substance as that on her dress.

“Marriage?”

“N-naw, thanks, but no. No. I really- Don’t think- No.” I stumbled over the words; my mind hazy. I was able to get to the door. The handle wouldn’t move. Locked. I slammed the garage door opener frantically. It made a groaning noise but did not move. Shit.

She hissed, “No?” Barring her teeth, she appeared in my face. “No?” Screeching, her hand lunged at me. Steve and I scattered. The cold wind ruffled my hair, as I felt her arm just went by.

Slamming into the boxes still left for us to unpack, I dearly wished that we had parked at least one of our cars inside. Even if the doors wouldn’t open, driving through it would give the desired results too.

Running toward the back, I glanced behind. There was no ghost lady following me. Swiveling around, I frantically searched for her. Steve was by the garbage, with no one by him, and there was no glowing in the dark corners either. She had just vanished.

Searing pain bloomed in my abdomen. Turning my head, I could just see the dead woman behind me. My vision started to blur. The roomed changed around me. Lights disappeared and reappeared elsewhere.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what me and Cynthia made you!” A little girl in a purple frilly dress came running out to the man covered in soot. His eyes were sharp, cold. But when he saw his daughter, they lit up. He watched as a piece of paper covered in a child’s drawing fluttering in the little wind that her running produced. Grasped firmly in her other hand, a doll.

The girl and the doll were identical in every way. The frilly dress, the black shoes, even the curly hair. The toy was very well loved but despite this, it was pristine and clean. Not a hair out of place nor a shoe unshined.

As she ran to greet the man, I looked around. Behind her stood our house. The paint was bright and clean, with the windows clear and the shutters correctly on their hinges. The porch had a brand-new feel to it, with it being a shiny white color and there were no wood planks missing. The only thing that wasn’t there was the garage, which had to have been added later in time. Staring at the house one last time, I turned back to the little family reunion.

Running up to her father, the girl lifted up her arms. The man smiled sadly. He said in a thick Southern accent, “Now, now Doll, I can’t carry you. I’m too dirty, we wouldn’t want to get your nice dress ruined, now would we?”

Bending down on one knee, he laughed as she puffed out her cheeks. Gently taking the piece of paper, he smiled greatly. “My, what is this? Is this a picture of the family?” The girl nodded shyly. “Why, Doll, this is absolutely amazing! It’s almost like a real life photograph. There’s you and me hand in hand, with Cynthia. Not to mention your mother and your Aunt Amelia. Look! You even got her smile right.” The caricature he pointed at showed a stick with a frown on it.

A muffling sound could be heard. It sounded like a scream. I looked around. No one was outside besides the two in front of me. On the porch was the mother? Or the aunt. I couldn’t tell, but she looked fine, she just stood there. Nothing strange had happened. Shaking my head, I turned back to the little family.

“Absolutely perfect. What superb skills my favorite child has!” The father said, beaming.

“Daddy, I’m your only child.” The little girl giggled.

“Dan.” I heard someone say my name. More words came after but I couldn’t hear them clearly. I shook my head again, trying to pay attention.

Grabbing his daughter’s hand, he started walking toward the house and said, “That may be, but the statement still stands.”

“Dan! Wake up!”

Gasping, my eyes flew open. My garage was back. Hovering over me, Steve was pressing his hands on my lower body. The pain had been dulled during the vision but now it was coming back in its full fury.

“W-what happened?” I stammered out.

Steve shook his head. “You screamed out when crazy ghost lady stabbed you with her hand, then you just went limp. I was afraid that you had-” He took a shaky breath, “that you had died. So I grabbed one of the pickaxes and started swinging it at her, and then she just screamed and disappeared.” He nodded toward the weapon laying by his side.

“You killed her?” I asked, impressed.

“No. I don’t think so. I think that, for whatever reason, she doesn’t like that thing. Thankfully there are three of us and two pickaxes so we could-” Steve spat blood on my face. His eyes widened. A glowing ghost hand protruded out of his chest.

“Die. Like him.” The woman sneered out from behind, snatching her now red hand away. Steve’s body fell with a thud, his eyes staring unblinking at me.

“No!”

Grabbing the pickaxe, I swung at her. Her body froze, a line slashed through her. Slowly she descended into a white smoke, sinking into the floor.

Gasping for air, I grabbed Steve’s body. “Steve.” I whispered, pressing my hands onto his chest. “Come on bud. We gotta go.” He didn’t move. I shook him gently. “Come on.” I said, tears streaming down my face. “Steve.” I choked out. Clutching his body, I sobbed.

Sometime past before I finally got up. I had to get to Meryl. Before that ghost did. I had already wasted so much time. Setting Steve down, I sniffled. Leaving him here in the garage felt wrong, but it was unrealistic to move him elsewhere. So I settled for laying him against the wall.

My body screamed in protest as I slowly got up. There was no time to waste to get to Meryl, and I couldn’t call her as I left my phone in my room to charge. Limping toward the door with pickaxe in hand, I hoped dearly that the door was unlocked with her disappearance. Much to my happiness it was. First bit of good luck I had all day.

Climbing the stairs, I yelled out, “Meryl! Meryl, help!” A soft ‘what’ could be heard from her bedroom. Limping as fast as I could, I threw myself into the room. Her back was to the door, and didn’t even look back at me when she spoke.

“I’m not falling for it. Whatever you and Steve are playing.”

My heart squeezed in my chest at the mention of his name. Choking out, I said, “Steve’s dead. We need to leave. Now.”

Meryl whipped around. Her eyes widen as she looked me over, focusing on the pickaxe in my hand.

“What the hell happened? What do you mean Steve’s dead?” A pause. “What’s with the pickaxe?” She asked slowly.

I shook my head. “We were attacked. There are ghosts. Actual ghosts, Meryl. And they are not Casper.”

“Oh.” Was all she said. Just a small ‘oh.’ She didn’t move. There was no indication that she was going to come with me at all. She just stood there.

“Okay.” I said, dragging out the word. “Ready to go then?”

That rose her from her stupor. “Right! Yes. Let’s go. But, uh,” she turned around, “let me get my phone.”

I stared at Meryl. She was acting really strange. I knew that hearing about ghosts being real and killing your best friend was a lot to take in. But this reaction was not the one I expected for Meryl to take. That’s when it hit me.

She thinks I killed Steve.

I placed my face in my hand, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” Meryl asked quickly.

I moaned, “You think I killed Steve. That I went crazy and killed him with a pickaxe.”

Silence. Followed by a “Yep.”

I blinked, taken back by the blunt response. “Didn’t think you’d give an honest answer.” I said. She shrugged.

“Well I-” But what she was going to say, I never found out. She paled as she gasped out, her breath coming out in puffs. Shuffling away, she pointed behind me.

Whipping around, I came face to face with an older woman. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun. Her pale, wrinkled, round face stared at me with no emotion. Her dress grey and fancy. Everything was in perfect order, not a hair out of place. Except for her chest. A dark stain covered where her heart would be.

I opened my mouth, but my best friend, the bride of hell appeared behind me. Startled, I gasped instead, dropping the pickaxe in my hand. Damn it! A smile crept onto her face, her teeth rotten and holey. Wailing, she slammed her hand in my shoulder. I struggled to throw her off. My hands went right through her, leaving small lines in her form. Still, she remained unmoving, her body slowly reconnecting itself. My vision started to blur again. The lights increased; the room faded away.

The little girl, now a teenager, sat on the front porch, tears streaming down her face. She looked down at her doll. Despite the many years she had the thing, it still remained clean and perfect; not a thing out of place. She no longer looked like the doll, her hair was now pulled up into a tight bun, the same as Aunt and Mother. Her dress just a pale cream.

She looked darkly back at the kitchen at the now raised voices. I hate it when they fight. When he disappeared to who knows where. It upsetted Mother. And when Mother is upset, I’m the one who gets it.

I stepped back at the sudden thoughts running in my head. They weren’t mine. I turned my attention to the girl. Were they her thoughts?

Quietly striding out of the house, Amelia regarded her niece in silence. It wasn’t until the girl heard her mother shout out, “You worthless piece of shit!” Did she notice the cold woman standing there. Quickly, the girl wiped her face, hoping the woman would ignore her.

“What are you doing?” Amelia looked down and saw the doll in her hand. Her eyes turned dark. “Why do you have that?” She hissed out. Marching over, she snatched the toy out of the girl’s hand. “You will never find a suitable husband if you carry that thing around!” Snarling, she tossed the toy into the woods near the house. The girl screamed out, she lunged forward to go get it, but the older woman grabbed her arm. Ignoring the protests, Amelia pulled her back inside.

“You want to be free of this?” She gestured to the arguing couple. “Find a good husband. A rich one.” She snarled in the girl’s ear.

“Now, time to be useful for once, Doll.”

Screaming could be heard. But why was the girl screaming? Grant it, her aunt was no picnic but to scream? I groggily opened my eyes. The face of an angry woman stared back.

Right. The girl is a ghost and wants to kill me. I thought dully.

“Dan! Dan, wake up!” A voice yelled out.

I blinked. Where was that coming from? Sounded from behind me. Wait-

My brain finally had downloaded the first thought. There were ghosts. And they wanted to kill us. The vision I had this time must have had me gone for only a minute at most, but the vision itself felt longer. Snapping to, I turned to see Meryl backed into a corner with what I assumed to be Mother dearest. Meryl would grab various things out of the boxes spewed about, and threw them at her. But they would just pass through the ghost. She didn’t even seem bothered by it. Meryl needed the axe.

The only reason I had not fallen to the floor this time is that my Ghost Bride still was holding on to me, keeping me on my feet. She lifted her hand up and tried to brush my hair, but her hand went through me. I shivered.

Focus.

Swiveling my head around, I tried to look for the pickaxe I had stupidly dropped. My skull screamed in protest but I continued.

After a second of looking, the weapon appeared to still be by my feet. I couldn’t fully tell where specifically as there were five of them.

Groaning at the spinning room, I kicked the pic in the direction I hoped Meryl to be. “Meryl! They don’t like the pickaxe.” I yelled out.

Without hesitation, she lunged for it. But mother dearest anticipated what Meryl was doing, as I had just shouted out what she needed to do. Mother grabbed my friend’s shoulder, slamming her into the ground.

Meryl didn’t even miss a beat as the second she hit the ground, she rolled back onto her feet and lunged again. This time it was successful, as she grabbed the hilt. In one swinging motion Meryl slashed through Mother causing her to disappear into the ground.

Twirling around, Meryl now set her sights on releasing me. Black clouded the edge of my vision. I could feel blood trickling down my leg. Meryl side stepped around us to get a better position. The ghost followed Meryl’s movements with her head.

The Bride hissed out at Meryl, “He’s mine.” To which my friend replied with a pickaxe slashing her body in half. Just like before, she disappeared through the floor. Without her holding me up, I started to fall. If it wasn’t for Meryl grabbing me, I would have face planted into the floor.

Setting me down, Meryl shakenly pressed her hand on my shoulder. “What the hell, Dan? What was that?”

“The quick rundown is that those ghosts came out of the wall doll, I think three in total? It’s that family we saw in that portrait we threw away. The bride killed Steve, and the mother tried to kill you. I don’t know where the aunt is, and I don’t really want to. I keep seeing what I assume to be the bride’s life flash before my eyes every time she stabs me with her hand for whatever reason, and honestly this sucks ass.” I huffed out. Swaying slightly, I leaned against Meryl.

“Okay.” She blinked at my explanation. “All right. How does this pickaxe work? Did I get rid of them forever or-?”

I shook my head as minimal as possible. “It only stops them for a couple of minutes? I’m not sure on the exact time.”

“Okay, I can work with that. Is the doll still intact?”

Thinking hard, I said, “I think so? It was only the face that broke.”

Meryl nodded. “Based on Hollywood, we need to completely destroy the doll. They’re connected to it so if it’s gone, then they should go away. We probably will have to burn it.” She looked around, frowning. “Lighter. We need a lighter.” Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. “I- uh- I think we have a tiny blow torch thing in the kitchen? That thing that Steve used to make those dessert things?”

“Sounds like a plan.” I said softly. I tried to nod but the room spun at a sickening pace and I immediately stopped.

Meryl gave me a concerned look but didn’t say anything. I must have looked terrible but she kept quiet to not make me panic. But I knew I was dying. Wasn’t too hard to figure out with two new holes added to my body. If it wasn’t for Meryl I would probably be freaking out and wondering about the great beyond.

She placed me gently against the wall and stood up. Grabbing her bedsheet, Meryl started to rip them into long strips. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back.

“Dan, don’t close your eyes!” Meryl appeared in front of my face. I blinked in shock. She had a bunch of the bedsheet strips around her arm. She must have been real quick with ripping them.

Wrapping them around my wounds, she tightly tied them to me. The pain of her makeshift medical wrap woke me up slightly but the world still had a fuzzy grain to it. Holding onto the pickaxe with white knuckles, Meryl was constantly looking around checking for ghosts. Once she was finished patching me up, she glanced in the hallway to check if the coast was clear.

Grunting, Meryl said, “Up ya go Dan.” Gripping my arm around her shoulder, I leaned heavily on her. Ever so slowly, we walked together down to the kitchen. It was an awkward fit as Meryl had to try and keep one arm decently free.

The kitchen was one of the best kept places in the house. It was pristine white and had marbled everything. It was spacious with tons of cupboards stuff full of cooking utensils we would tell ourselves we would use but never do. It had relatively new appliances that worked properly and the electric wiring was actually up to code.

Overall, an excellent kitchen. The only problem I currently had with it was the ghost standing in the middle. She had a stern, round face, her grey hair pulled into a tight bun on top. Wrinkles covered her face and hands. Her dress was proper and clean. Staring at us as if we had dishonored not only her, but her cooking too. This must have been the Aunt.

We both regarded each other in silence. Our breath coming out in white puffs. The only sound was that of Fluffy eating in the corner. Shuffling her feet slightly to the left, Meryl half took half dragged me along to the closest drawer. The Aunt just stood there. The drawer opened. No reaction. A hand enters. Still no reaction. Shuffling noises are heard. Again, the Aunt does nothing. The hand retracts from the drawer with no lighter. The Aunt smiled. It was an unpleasant one.

Meryl whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “Do you know where we put the blow torch thing?”

A pause.

“Um, yes.”

“Well?”

I swallowed loudly as I remembered exactly where it was. “Funny story.” Meryl turned to me with a stern face. “It’s actually still packed up. In a box. In the, uh, garage.” I whispered that last part out as I realized my mistake.

“Great.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “So we have to go to the garage then?”

I gave a grim smile. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Meryl shook her head and said, “Dan, you’re fine. To say that you are alive right now is a miracle in of itself. Besides, we need to be in the garage anyway.” Clearing her throat, she said in a louder voice, “Sorry, wrong room, we’ll just go now.”

The Aunt glared at us and took a step forward. “I think not.” She said.

Meryl swung the pickaxe wildly behind her, dropping me to the ground. Two vaper shapes hung frozen behind us. The Mother and the Bride. Adrenaline started to kick in as I shot to the side, out of Meryl’s way as she advanced on the Aunt.

Unperturbed, the dead woman casually flicked her hand at us. Instantly the kitchen became alive. What random stuff we packed in the drawers came flying out at us. Pencils, a ball of rubber bands, various sized wrenches, among other things. The items that worried me the most were the plastic and metal forks, and knives all flying about. With the three of us living together we had collected a stupid amount of utensils. How or why, I will never know, but I regretted it a little now.

Throwing my one arm over my head, I dragged myself to the cupboards by the cat’s food dish. I grabbed the underside of Fluffy, pulling him toward me to get him out of the way. He made a murr sound but allowed me to take him, the food now gone. Together we huddled in the corner, trying our best to remain unharmed. I was failing. Miserably.

Meryl was not having a better time than me. She definitely was the one to draw the shorter end of the stick. Multiple little cuts appeared all over her face, arm, basically any exposed part of her body. Luckily for her, her glasses were at least able to prevent her eyes from getting stabbed. But that wasn’t too big of a comfort with a million little push pins flying around.

Swatting away all the flying objects, whether they were little or large with her arms and pickaxe, she advanced closer to the Aunt. But the ghost did not move, showing no signs of terror of the weapon in Meryl’s hands.

With a few more steps until she reached her goal, two forms of white smoke came out on either side of Meryl from the walls, both advancing on the other. The smoke became the Mother and the Bride, with their arms out, ready to spear their target. Meryl didn’t notice, her focus solely on the Aunt, who was also mirroring her family’s movements. I tried to scream out in warning, but it was too late.

The mother and daughter both stabbed Meryl’s sides simultaneously, freezing her in place, her eyes wide in shock. The pickaxe fell from her hands. With no danger now, the Aunt stepped forward and smiled with sickening malice. Lurching forward, my arms flailed out, desperately trying to reach Meryl.

Please. The Aunt raised her hand once again. Please no. Slowly, so painfully slowly, did her arm reach for Meryl’s chest. Not again. Not Meryl. Please. My thoughts screamed out to no one.

Meryl barely made a sound. Just a soft groan. Her head jerked a little when the hand was removed. Staggering forward, I grabbed at the air, trying but not quite being able to reach her, ignoring the two ghosts still holding her up. The Aunt’s lips moved, saying something. I couldn’t hear her. There was just ringing in my ears. My brain chanted, not her, please, not her.

“Dan.” Her voice was quiet, but it ripped through my body as if a bomb had gone off. “Dan, run.” I blinked, not comprehending. “Go to the garage.” I could barely hear the last of her words as her head fell, not to get up again. The women smiled at the body before dropping it. It hit the ground with a weak thud.

The three ghosts turned their heads toward me. I shuffled backwards. The Bride smiled at me, but there was no warmth. No love. My insides burned looking at them. Gritting my teeth, I gave Meryl’s body one last look before limping out of the kitchen.

I was alone.

Angry tears fell from my eyes. Everyone that I had held dear had been taken from me. They were going to pay. Anger fueled me. Slamming the garage door open, it echoed across the space. A black blob skirted pass me into the room. Fluffy. I gave a tiny smile.

I went to the pile of boxes labeled ‘kitchen’ ripping open the top one. It was full of plates. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the box out of my way. The noise of shattering plates filled the room as they broke across the floor. But what did I care? I just continued on, onto the next box, and the next. Until I found what I needed, I was not going to stop.

Fluffy hissed. Whipping around, I saw smoke pouring from the ceiling and walls. The vaper swirled into three shapes. Angry faces appeared and soon the rest of their bodies. The women of the household had finally appeared before me. They floated there, regarding me with undisguised disgust.

They drifted forward. Glancing around for a weapon, I instead scooped up the cat. Holding it out, I yelled out, “Stop! I warn you!” To add to my threat, Fluffy snarled. The ghosts paused for a second, confused. Taking advantage, I moved backwards. The ladies had composed themselves over the shock of me using the cat as a shield. They did not seem to be affected by cats quite like mummies. Watching me, they spread out, flaking me on three sides. My only option was back. Away from the boxes. Banging against the garage wall, I cursed. Nowhere else to go.

Fluffy jumped from my arms, fur all spiked, hissing. The ghosts watched the feline warily, still unsure of it. Using that bought time I frantically looked around the barrels, trying to find something to fight with. A pvc pipe stuck out from the trash. Grabbing it, I swung at the Mother. It passed through her with no effect. She stared at me unamused. I dropped the pipe, backing up once again.

“All right, let’s try again.” I grabbed the next thing sticking out of the trash barrels, a wood stick. Out came a rusty pickaxe. I could have cried. Another pickaxe. Grinning, I noticed that damn creepy doll just inches away. Her face gone, broken apart. An idea suddenly popped in my head. Without looking at the ghosts, that were probably too close for comfort, I slammed down the tool, crushing the doll. A scream escaped the white women, they lurched, holding their heads.

The old lady swung out her arm, smacking me across the room, the pickaxe flying from my hands. Groaning slightly, I got up. The ghosts were starting to recover slightly, but they looked a lot paler even for them. I limped as fast as I could back to my weapon. The Mother lunged at me, snarling. Swinging the pickaxe, she disappeared into smoke screaming.

Lurching back to the doll, I went back to smashing it to pieces. I kept at it. Over and over. If I saw any amount of silver in the corner of my eye, I would swing the pickaxe frantically, chasing them off.

I screamed out at the sudden pain in my already damaged shoulder. Turning my head slightly, I could see that the Bride had stabbed me once again. The room started to swirl once more.

On the mantel sat the doll. It was dirtier than before, but still was in decent condition. Having it spend a couple nights in the woods when she was a teen did not help the doll’s condition over the years. Picking up the toy, the woman placed it inside the unfinished closet. The house was going through some minor changes to help the place look better in the future.

As she closed the closet door, she glanced at herself in the mirror. She loved the way she looked in that white dress. Her hair tied up, with a veil loosely falling down. The dress was her mother’s. Simple and white. Nothing expensive. They never could have afforded expensive. But not anymore.

The thoughts of the Bride once again popped in my head. Gritting my teeth, I tried to wake up. I did not need this. Opening my eyes, I was still in the memory. I tried kicking a chair but my leg just went through it as if I was the ghost. Sighing, I turned back to the memory.

The plan was simple. Marry him. Then kill him. Joseph was rich. Richer than she could ever hope. Somehow, she was able to catch the eye of the wealthiest person in town. She first started to notice him snooping around her house a couple of years ago. When she turned twenty, she caught him slinking around the corner just below her bedroom window. He stammered out that he fancied her and had only wish to speak with her. Their courtship was a little rough in the beginning, but it had smoothed out toward the end.

He was older than her by quite a few years. But that didn’t matter. Only his money. She’d be rid of him soon anyway. It was Aunt Amelia’s plan of course. To marry him in order to get them out of there. Then they could live their lives in comfort. She could even find a new husband. Become even richer.

Be free.

But there was one slight problem. Father wasn’t in on the plan. Mother and Amelia said not to tell him. He was rather fond of Joseph; they got along very well. The two of them would constantly head out into town and ‘bond.’ It infuriated her.

The door was thrown open, and in walked the twins. Aunt Amelia as stern as ever and Mother with a bored look on her face. She sat in the chair closest to the exit. Unconcerned with her surroundings.

Amelia walked up to the bride from behind and placed a cold steel knife in her hand. “Don’t mess this up.” She hissed in her ear. The Bride nodded, holding up the weapon to examine it. It was thin and long. Perfect. A cold smile crept on her face. She couldn’t wait.

“What is that?”

She spun around. Standing at the door was Father. He stared at the weapon; brow furrowed.

“Father.”

“Get out Ronald.” Mother snarled. Amelia stood behind her, glaring.

“Not until you tell me what that knife is for.”

“To kill Joseph.” The girl answered.

His eyes widened. “No-”

Mother took a step and stood in front of him. “Tonight, we can have it all. We just have to get rid of him.”

Father stared coldly at her. “No. Not this way.”

“In that case-” Amelia pulled out another knife from the folds of her dress and lunged. A pain welled up from my leg.

Gasping out as the memory released me, I sunk to my knees. Looking over, Fluffy was clinging to my leg, his fur all fluffed out, eyes wide. In the fear of the ghosts, he had clawed at my leg. I patted his head. “Good kitty.” I whispered.

Anger gripped me. I wasn’t going to let them treat me like the father. They weren’t going to win. I turned toward the Bride, glaring. She took a step back as if I had stabbed her with the pic, shock on her face. I walked back to the doll, unopposed.

With a renewed fury, I swung the pickaxe as hard as I could, pounding the toy into dust. The ghosts screeched even louder. The Aunt screamed out, “Why? Ronald, why?” Her cry did not make me pause. I didn’t even look. I kept going. Until nothing was left but broken pieces and dust.

The screaming had stopped. Turning around, I saw the ghosts slowly evaporate. Their mouths opened. No sound came out, they were frozen. Their whitened forms turned ash grey. Bit by bit, they disappeared. Grey smoke crumbled down into the ground. After a moment, they were gone.

I fell down on the floor in mute shock, tears staining my face. The pickaxe still in my hands. For a brief moment it glowed. Screaming, I tossed it away. Smoke billowed out of it. Two new ghosts emerged. This time it was the Father, and some unknown guy with him.

He was younger, had short brown hair, and in a suit like the father. Blood covered most of his clothes. The man looked vaguely familiar. As if I was looking in a mirror. A small memory emerged from some unknown place in the back of my brain, about a distant uncle being killed on his wedding day.

The Father looked the same as he did in the memory, now with a small hole in his chest. Some of his fingers were missing too.

Bowing to me, the Father said in a scratchy voice, “Thank you,” before disappearing. The younger man just nodded as he faded away, the room along with him.

The world turned blissfully dark.

#short story #horror #supernatural story #suspense #ghosts #original story

0 notes