Dream Daughters

It felt as though something sinister had clasped her heart from behind; a cold, invisible hand that chilled her body to shiver. But she had learned how to suppress such horrid feelings, wanting only the warmth of fond memories. And now, before he left, she needed to envisage Carl one last time. It was hard to recall how long he had been standing there waving, but now as Carl stepped back slowly into the darkness, Sarah remembered the sweet warmth of his kiss. Her heart pounded and her body tensed with emotion; a tingling, warm sensation shooting from stomach to groin. Yet somehow her legs felt immobile, frozen by a terrible, biting cold. And as mist rose above her feet, it seemed to envelope her whole body. She glanced up, wanting to view Carl once more. But all Sarah’s squinting eyes could see was his shadowy figure disappearing into the fog; a half lit hand blowing a kiss before it too vanished into the dark beyond the street lamp. Again she shivered, feeling motionless. But with determination to shake the cold from her bones, she curled her nightgown about her waist and stamped her naked feet on the raised brick step of the doorway. However, as a tear escaped one eye and ran cold down her cheek, she could not help notice the mist now rise above her knees. Sarah cursed under a breath and turned to the light and warmth of the hallway, but noted how strangely it followed. Again she cursed, suppressing her nerves to peer over her shoulder with watery eyes, hoping to picture Carl one last time. It seemed like shadows in the street were watching her; spectral shapes in the fog converging to whisper nasty rumours, or were they closing in to provoke insult. Sarah shook her head in defiance, curls of her darkening blonde hair sticking against heavier tears. Again for a moment she felt her legs paralysed, but kicked the swaying door open to jump inside the warmth of the hallway. Quickly she spun round, shutting the door against the inflowing mist, dismembering fingers from a vaporous crawling hand. Inside the hallway, once again Sarah shuddered, but tingled to the reassuring warmth and light of the room. Yet now it was her observations that raised questions. What was she doing in Carl’s home? Surely it had been years since she had been here? In fact, had she ever spent the night? Although somewhat comforted, all felt so strange. Knowing that Carl was instinctively tidy, the kitchen was in a mess. Above her head and littering the walls of the hallway, were the usual cheap, unsavoury pictures of birds. And then entering the somewhat claustrophobic lounge, the room was decorated with dated décor; corners littered with books, sleazy excuses of ornaments dotted everywhere, and beside the fireplace was that tattered, old writing desk. The only thing with style (and probably of some value) was that old dresser he had in the bedroom – the one with that ornate but creepy, oval mirror. Yet her body warmed to recollect such fond memories here. Or was this some optimistic illusion? At first it was the fall in temperature that agitated Sarah, but staring about the room with glazed eyes, she noticed the mist of her own breath exhale before the lights grew dim. It was not until they flickered off and on again in quick succession that her spine stiffened. Then it was a sound from behind that made her jump. Sarah spun round, her eyes widening with fear. Fallen from the fireplace and now lying on the floor, was a framed picture of her and Carl. She took a step closer, but paused momentarily to pick it up, noticing how a crack along the glass had separated the couple. Strange how it cracked on falling on soft carpet, she thought, or had it hit something beforehand? Baffled, she placed the frame upon a nearby coffee table and turned slowly to notice a reflection in Carl’s television screen. It was not just the intense blackness filling the reflection of the room behind that stunned her, but the sudden cries from her babies lying in their cots in the bedroom. Afraid to move, she watched how the reflected figure formed into the shape of a religious habit, like that of a monk in a black robe. But as she turned to observe the reality of its reflection, it was something contrary to any holy man. Although the swirling mass of the black figure blurred and reformed, she could now distinguish its hellish form. Somehow she knew that this abomination of evil had killed past friends. And now it stood wavering before her, its arms outstretched and blocking the way to save her children. From beneath a heavy, black hood appeared a powdery white face. It was not exposed as that of a naked skull, but had pale skin, shiny yet withdrawn. At first she saw it’s taut, dark nostrils and a crescent mouth grinning at her with dagger-like teeth, but as the head tilted back, a pair of deathly black pupils glared from glistening white eyeballs. As its eyes turned to focus on the cries from the bedroom, the face shimmered through the dimming light. Although dumbfounded, Sarah found the exasperation to release her scream and the hellish eyes of the Dark Ghost glanced back her. ‘You’ll not have them,’ Sarah bellowed, trying desperately to find movement in her legs. ‘They’re my girls and one day they’ll vanquish you!’ But the Dark Ghost simply intensified its grin at Sarah and floated teasingly into the flickering light of the bedroom. She sped forward, finally finding her inner strength. Or was it the horrific thoughts of what a demon could do to such innocent children? She staggered and flung herself at the door, but hit hard against it as it slammed shut. She pounded on the door with one hand whilst testing the handle with the other. Begging for it to be opened, she wailed for her babies to be spared. But the door held firm. She heard the cries of her three triplet daughters intensify as if the thing was teasing them with its ghastly, elongated fingers. Tears flooding her eyes and feeling her heart about to burst, Sarah grasped the crucifix about her neck and called to God; begging that the merciful One spare her children. She howled her words at the door, ordering for the evil to be expelled, but her ears deafened to the cries of her babies. And now they were squealing. Shouting her last prayer and slamming her shoulder against the door, suddenly Sarah fell into the bedroom. Whatever evil power had prevented the door from opening, it had now disappeared... along with the Dark Ghost. She pulled herself upon all fours and then squatted on her haunches to look about the room. No sign of any demon… no sign of cold or flickering lights… the warmth had come back? And quiet… no noise… nothing but a deathly silence. No noise… but had her babies been taken, or been killed? Sarah raced to her feet as fast as her tired limbs would allow. Her heart melted with joy to see all her three daughters lying parallel in each cot. Neither were crying, no pain, no anxiety, each baby girl with eyes wide open, just simply apprehensive to who was staring down at them. For a long moment Sarah crouched over each cot, ensuring each girl was safe and warm under blanket. It was not until she released the crucifix from within her clenched hand that she saw the indentation in her palm. At first she was content, sanctified by its shining, silver image, but then came the numbing pain. She etched a half smile to ignore the pain. It was certainly better to suffer a little pain with prayer than be succumbed by such tormenting evil. She stroked each girl’s cheek, calling each by name and then whispering words of comfort. Yet were her words to console her children or were they to provide her own personal reassurance? Glancing away from her babies, Sarah searched the room, again becoming apprehensive. She was right to become fearful, as again it was growing cold. Suddenly the bedroom light flickered off and on and Sarah shuddered. Again the overhead light flickered against its shade as now the room grew icy cold.