Casting Shadows Read online
Page 3
in the office twenty miles away - just where he was supposed to be. She spoke to him briefly, trying to steady her voice so he wouldn't worry .Once she had hung up she began to walk around the house, looking for places an intruder could have entered. There was nowhere. Other than the small windows she had boarded up the house was solid, secure and perfectly quiet.
She sat in the kitchen drinking tea from a chipped mug. The house wasn't haunted, that was ridiculous. Nobody had got in - the windows were thick and she would have noticed broken glass. There was nobody else in the house - the floors were old and creaked as she moved about the house, she would have heard someone. Besides, the house didn't feel bad. She smiled at herself for sounding like a new-ager, but the place felt good, not like the cramped apartment she had called home for the last three years. This place felt like it could be home.
Hammer in hand she prepared to carry on with working as if nothing had happened. She tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach as she walked about the place. She glanced into the dining room and gasped. The petals were gone, not a trace of the flowers remained, except for the scent which was so strong her eyes began to water. She coughed as the scent permeated her throat and burned. She turned on her heels and ran for the front door, but had not gone more than three steps when the cloying scent disappeared without trace. She stopped and turned around slowly, hearing the floorboards groan under her feet as her weight shifted. The room was empty. Once again it smelt of dust and neglect, just like the rest of the house.
No, wait. She stopped herself from leaving the room as she noticed the thing on the floor. It was tiny, no more than an inch across. She stooped low to study it and touched it carefully with her fingers. They came away red, the consistency of the spot was sticky. Blood.
She backed out of the room towards the kitchen, tripping over her feet as her pace increased. By the time she reached the kitchen sink she had been running. The tap was jerked on and she scrubbed her hands until they were raw, her breath catching in her throat as her fear struggled to escape. As she turned the tap off she listened for any noise, any creak that would betray an intruder. There was nothing but the insistent quiet. Even the birdsong from the trees around the house had disappeared. She was alone.
She forced herself to the kitchen table and sat down, jumping sharply at the noise that echoed through the room as she dragged the old chair out to sit on. She could leave, she thought. Leave and not come back. Sell the place and go back to the city to the apartment. Get pregnant, have kids that breathed that smoggy air without questioning it.
That thought made her get up again. That was James's wish, not hers. She needed this place. It belonged to her. She forced her unwilling legs to carry her down the hallway and back into the dining room where she'd left her tools. She took a deep breath and entered the room. Her eyes fixed on the blood again. It had been joined now by a single orange rose petal. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as the fear surfaced again. She grabbed a small dust-sheet and threw it on the blood, covering it completely. There, she thought. No more blood. No more petals, just painting. She picked up her paint-roller and, brandishing it like a sword, started to climb the ladder again, ignoring the insistent rolling of her stomach and the smell of roses that had begun to drift into the room again.
?
The sun was beginning to dim by the time that James pulled into the long driveway. He could see her on the ladder, framed by one of the ugly picture windows. He sighed and killed the car engine. He looked at the small cluster of bags on the passenger seat and hoped what he had bought for her would do the trick, he didn't want another argument. He just wanted them to be together again.
He crept up the driveway with difficulty. The unmade road was full of potholes and mounds of renegade plants that had forced their way up through the gravel. His loafers slipped on the stones awkwardly. The presents he held in his hands made it difficult to balance and twice he slid, almost losing his footing completely but managing to right himself at the last moment.
The front door was propped open to let in the summer warmth. James walked carefully into the dining room. He wanted this to be a big surprise for her.
?
She turned as the floorboards creaked. James smiled at her, framed in the large empty dining room doorway. His left arm was sagging under the weight of two large holdalls. His right was behind his back. She left the roller in the large paint can and climbed down the ladder quickly to greet him with relief. She wouldn't be alone in the house tonight after all!
The warm greeting died on her lips as he revealed what he was carrying in his right hand. The huge bouquet of gaudy orange roses that he revealed with a flourish made her pull back in a sudden rush of horror. She held the ladder for support as the scent surrounded her again, making her feel dizzy and nauseous.
"What's wrong, honey?" he asked "I thought you'd be pleased to see me!" He dropped the holdalls; they hit the floor with a meaty thump.
"I am?" she lied, trying to steady her voice. "I'm surprised, that's all. You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow." She backed towards the toolbox.
"Aren't I even gonna get a kiss then?" The words were light but his voice was heavy and dull. She could see his face clouding as she moved back from him.
"Let me pack everything away first!" she laughed with false levity, her hand reaching for the toolbox.
He lunged at her as her hand reached the plastic box, knocking her backwards onto the hardwood floor. Her scream echoed through the house as she struggled to pull his hands from her throat.
"James... please," she choked as she struggled. His face was implacable and set. He wasn't hearing her any more, there was no recognition in his eyes.
"I didn't want it to be like this but it has to be. We'll be together, hon," he explained calmly as he held her. "This place would tear us apart, I can't have that, this is for our own good. I love you more than anything and I can't let you go." The hands clawing at his to try and release their grip were getting weaker. His sweat dropped onto her desperate face.
The sudden wind barely registered with him until the plywood exploded from the window-frames, showering him with splinters. He scrambled up, releasing his grip on her throat. She crawled away coughing and hitching breath in painfully.
She slumped on the floor and watched as the huge ladder began to topple. The paint cans rolled to the edge of the ladder platform and fell heavily. James looked up just as the can connected with his forehead, then he fell too. He landed face-down in the pool of paint, the blood from his head wound flowing swiftly and creating a marbled pattern in the emulsion.
She smelt roses again. Stronger than ever. The bouquet was covered in paint and a few petals floated in the small stream of blood and paint that was creeping towards the doorway.
The house was silent as it had ever been. Even her stunned sobs made no echo across the high ceilings. The smell of roses drifted unchecked throughout the cavernous rooms.
Grassy Graveyard
by Joleen Kuyper
The grass grows slowly all around,
up through the cracks in the ground,
engulfing grey matter forever.
Years of long forgotten tears
are now just schoolgirls' fears;
in this new era of indifference.
Tears shed for loved ones lost
frozen in last year's frost,
show the cracks and crevices of our souls.
Broken pieces lie all over,
like hearts of long ago.
From the tears they had no cover
and the grass began to grow.
Room with a View
by E.J. Tett
All alone. The room is empty; the window has been boarded up. Huddle into the corner. There's nowhere to hide... Just keep small and quiet. Don't breathe. Close your eyes and they won't find you.
The light bulb blinks on and off, there's no shade, just a bulb covered in dust. Listen. You can hear t
he filament in the bulb crackling. Don't look.
The light starts to swing violently, sending strange shadows around the room. Your own shadow looms large over your huddled body.
Cower away.
It must be a draught that makes the bulb move on its own... don't imagine unseen hands or worse...
Sudden silence. Don't breathe, don't look!
The light goes out with barely a sound and the room is plunged into utter darkness. A gasp. Was that you?!
Eyes open wide now, staring wildly into the black, looking at nothing, there's nothing there! Wait... shh...
Your skin crawls, hairs stand on end, a prickle of fear... and something touches your hand. Jump up! Don't scream. Hands brush each other frantically, there's nothing there, calm down! Blink into the darkness, thrust your hands under your arms, don't let anything else touch you.
Breathe slowly.
Your heart beats painfully in your chest, blood thunders in your ears. Too loud! You can't hear, can't see what might be there in the dark...
You stand rigid. Until you remember the window...
Feel along the wall... careful... small steps, light desperate touches, hands shake as they pat the wall. There... the window. Feel the edge of the board?
She sat in the kitchen drinking tea from a chipped mug. The house wasn't haunted, that was ridiculous. Nobody had got in - the windows were thick and she would have noticed broken glass. There was nobody else in the house - the floors were old and creaked as she moved about the house, she would have heard someone. Besides, the house didn't feel bad. She smiled at herself for sounding like a new-ager, but the place felt good, not like the cramped apartment she had called home for the last three years. This place felt like it could be home.
Hammer in hand she prepared to carry on with working as if nothing had happened. She tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in her stomach as she walked about the place. She glanced into the dining room and gasped. The petals were gone, not a trace of the flowers remained, except for the scent which was so strong her eyes began to water. She coughed as the scent permeated her throat and burned. She turned on her heels and ran for the front door, but had not gone more than three steps when the cloying scent disappeared without trace. She stopped and turned around slowly, hearing the floorboards groan under her feet as her weight shifted. The room was empty. Once again it smelt of dust and neglect, just like the rest of the house.
No, wait. She stopped herself from leaving the room as she noticed the thing on the floor. It was tiny, no more than an inch across. She stooped low to study it and touched it carefully with her fingers. They came away red, the consistency of the spot was sticky. Blood.
She backed out of the room towards the kitchen, tripping over her feet as her pace increased. By the time she reached the kitchen sink she had been running. The tap was jerked on and she scrubbed her hands until they were raw, her breath catching in her throat as her fear struggled to escape. As she turned the tap off she listened for any noise, any creak that would betray an intruder. There was nothing but the insistent quiet. Even the birdsong from the trees around the house had disappeared. She was alone.
She forced herself to the kitchen table and sat down, jumping sharply at the noise that echoed through the room as she dragged the old chair out to sit on. She could leave, she thought. Leave and not come back. Sell the place and go back to the city to the apartment. Get pregnant, have kids that breathed that smoggy air without questioning it.
That thought made her get up again. That was James's wish, not hers. She needed this place. It belonged to her. She forced her unwilling legs to carry her down the hallway and back into the dining room where she'd left her tools. She took a deep breath and entered the room. Her eyes fixed on the blood again. It had been joined now by a single orange rose petal. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as the fear surfaced again. She grabbed a small dust-sheet and threw it on the blood, covering it completely. There, she thought. No more blood. No more petals, just painting. She picked up her paint-roller and, brandishing it like a sword, started to climb the ladder again, ignoring the insistent rolling of her stomach and the smell of roses that had begun to drift into the room again.
?
The sun was beginning to dim by the time that James pulled into the long driveway. He could see her on the ladder, framed by one of the ugly picture windows. He sighed and killed the car engine. He looked at the small cluster of bags on the passenger seat and hoped what he had bought for her would do the trick, he didn't want another argument. He just wanted them to be together again.
He crept up the driveway with difficulty. The unmade road was full of potholes and mounds of renegade plants that had forced their way up through the gravel. His loafers slipped on the stones awkwardly. The presents he held in his hands made it difficult to balance and twice he slid, almost losing his footing completely but managing to right himself at the last moment.
The front door was propped open to let in the summer warmth. James walked carefully into the dining room. He wanted this to be a big surprise for her.
?
She turned as the floorboards creaked. James smiled at her, framed in the large empty dining room doorway. His left arm was sagging under the weight of two large holdalls. His right was behind his back. She left the roller in the large paint can and climbed down the ladder quickly to greet him with relief. She wouldn't be alone in the house tonight after all!
The warm greeting died on her lips as he revealed what he was carrying in his right hand. The huge bouquet of gaudy orange roses that he revealed with a flourish made her pull back in a sudden rush of horror. She held the ladder for support as the scent surrounded her again, making her feel dizzy and nauseous.
"What's wrong, honey?" he asked "I thought you'd be pleased to see me!" He dropped the holdalls; they hit the floor with a meaty thump.
"I am?" she lied, trying to steady her voice. "I'm surprised, that's all. You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow." She backed towards the toolbox.
"Aren't I even gonna get a kiss then?" The words were light but his voice was heavy and dull. She could see his face clouding as she moved back from him.
"Let me pack everything away first!" she laughed with false levity, her hand reaching for the toolbox.
He lunged at her as her hand reached the plastic box, knocking her backwards onto the hardwood floor. Her scream echoed through the house as she struggled to pull his hands from her throat.
"James... please," she choked as she struggled. His face was implacable and set. He wasn't hearing her any more, there was no recognition in his eyes.
"I didn't want it to be like this but it has to be. We'll be together, hon," he explained calmly as he held her. "This place would tear us apart, I can't have that, this is for our own good. I love you more than anything and I can't let you go." The hands clawing at his to try and release their grip were getting weaker. His sweat dropped onto her desperate face.
The sudden wind barely registered with him until the plywood exploded from the window-frames, showering him with splinters. He scrambled up, releasing his grip on her throat. She crawled away coughing and hitching breath in painfully.
She slumped on the floor and watched as the huge ladder began to topple. The paint cans rolled to the edge of the ladder platform and fell heavily. James looked up just as the can connected with his forehead, then he fell too. He landed face-down in the pool of paint, the blood from his head wound flowing swiftly and creating a marbled pattern in the emulsion.
She smelt roses again. Stronger than ever. The bouquet was covered in paint and a few petals floated in the small stream of blood and paint that was creeping towards the doorway.
The house was silent as it had ever been. Even her stunned sobs made no echo across the high ceilings. The smell of roses drifted unchecked throughout the cavernous rooms.
Grassy Graveyard
by Joleen Kuyper
The grass grows slowly all around,
up through the cracks in the ground,
engulfing grey matter forever.
Years of long forgotten tears
are now just schoolgirls' fears;
in this new era of indifference.
Tears shed for loved ones lost
frozen in last year's frost,
show the cracks and crevices of our souls.
Broken pieces lie all over,
like hearts of long ago.
From the tears they had no cover
and the grass began to grow.
Room with a View
by E.J. Tett
All alone. The room is empty; the window has been boarded up. Huddle into the corner. There's nowhere to hide... Just keep small and quiet. Don't breathe. Close your eyes and they won't find you.
The light bulb blinks on and off, there's no shade, just a bulb covered in dust. Listen. You can hear t
he filament in the bulb crackling. Don't look.
The light starts to swing violently, sending strange shadows around the room. Your own shadow looms large over your huddled body.
Cower away.
It must be a draught that makes the bulb move on its own... don't imagine unseen hands or worse...
Sudden silence. Don't breathe, don't look!
The light goes out with barely a sound and the room is plunged into utter darkness. A gasp. Was that you?!
Eyes open wide now, staring wildly into the black, looking at nothing, there's nothing there! Wait... shh...
Your skin crawls, hairs stand on end, a prickle of fear... and something touches your hand. Jump up! Don't scream. Hands brush each other frantically, there's nothing there, calm down! Blink into the darkness, thrust your hands under your arms, don't let anything else touch you.
Breathe slowly.
Your heart beats painfully in your chest, blood thunders in your ears. Too loud! You can't hear, can't see what might be there in the dark...
You stand rigid. Until you remember the window...
Feel along the wall... careful... small steps, light desperate touches, hands shake as they pat the wall. There... the window. Feel the edge of the board?
Casting Shadows