Merida Bell

Photo by Michael Matveev on Unsplash
Merida and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. From childhood crushes to the heartbreaks of adolescence, we went through it all together.

Back in the 1990s, when we were both roughly eleven years old, she and her family moved into the beige mansion across the street. I remember that day vividly and how the warm, sweet smell of baked apple pie wafted through the air as my late mum and I crossed the street to greet our new neighbours.

In those days, people had a greater sense of community and relied on each other for support during trying times. It was customary to welcome a new neighbour with baked pies and friendly conversation. This tradition, once cherished, was now only alive in the world of cinema.

I found the Bells to be reserved individuals who kept to themselves. While my family was very sociable and loved to engage in small talk, the Bells were the opposite. I still remember the way Mrs Bell’s voice trailed off after thanking us, and how she stood in the doorway as if to ensure we wouldn’t insist on getting invited.

My late mum, who was a housewife with traditional values, perceived Mrs Bell as rude and bad-mannered. In these parts of the countryside, it was common courtesy to at least offer a drink to someone who came knocking on your door.

Given the circumstances, my mum cautioned me not to get involved with the Bells. She believed they caught a disease that afflicted only city folk and made them think too highly of themselves. She was worried I might catch it, too. But like many other mischievous boys, I had a weakness for all things forbidden.

I rounded up my friends Dani, Mark, and Carlos after school, and we set out to pull a prank on the Bells. We couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement at the prospect of what was to come.

We planned to ring the doorbell and then scamper away before Mrs Bell could answer. We’d made a habit of it – knocking on doors around our usually serene neighbourhood and then hiding from plain sight.

We crouched behind the bushes, feeling the dampness of the grass beneath us as we waited for the perfect moment to strike. Dani and I had a clear view of the front door and garden, but Mark and Carlos had to strain their necks to see the fun from their spot in the thorny bush.

Things didn’t go as we planned. No one answered the door. I could, however, see some movement through the window reflected on the curtain. The Bells were at home; I had no doubt. So, I rang the doorbell again. This time, I stood in front of the front door, nervously tapping my foot as my friends giggled from the nearby bushes.

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the entire house for several seconds. But there was no sign of anyone coming to answer it. I strained to hear any noise from the other side of the door to no avail. I couldn’t hear anything except the sound of my shallow breathing.

We presumed the Bells were out after all and played football in the nearby park instead. As the sun set and the sky turned dark, my friends headed back to their homes a few blocks away, leaving me to walk alone past the beige mansion.

The closer I got to the Bells, the more aware I became of the eerie silence that hung in the air. The mansion was cloaked in deep slumber, not a single light piercing the pitch-black murk.

The beige mansion weighed heavily on my mind during supper. I almost asked my mum about the Bells, but her piercing stare made me change my mind. I left my plate half-eaten and retreated to my room.

Although the beige mansion was barely visible from my bedroom window, I could still make out the intricate details of the architecture with a little effort. It was remarkable how such an old building managed to withstand the test of time – without a single crack, at that.

The wind howled that evening for hours. It carried the sound of creaking branches and rustling leaves as I stood frozen and stared at the imposing mansion. The darkness was absolute. I couldn’t even see my own hands on the windowsill. It was like a thick blanket covering everything and everyone – like a black hole swallowing the world.

I turned around and checked the clock behind me. It read fifteen minutes past ten in the evening. Where were the Bells? Returning my gaze to the beige mansion, I caught a fleeting movement out of the corner of my eye. A figure darted around the side of the mansion with such speed, they seemed to disappear into the shadows.

Scowling, I leaned against the window frame, frustrated that my view was obstructed by the overgrown bushes and the towering walls of the mansion. The cool breeze brushed against my skin as I leaned forwards.

Footfalls.

I whipped around and nearly lost my balance and toppled backwards. With my heart racing, I could literally feel the sweat on my palms as I turned around in a heartbeat. The heavy, rhythmic thud of footsteps grew louder and louder as someone climbed the stairs and drew closer.

My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as I closed the ajar window and dived under the covers. The door handle twisted not long after and my mum stepped inside. She asked if I was asleep. I didn’t respond. She switched off the light before she left my room. I lay there for a few more seconds, eyes closed, before finally tossing the covers aside and opening the window.

The beige mansion stood empty and still as death itself, like a ghostly spectre haunting the night. The sheer beauty of it took my breath away. Something about it arrested me and I couldn’t explain what it was. I had to take a closer look.

I cracked open the door and listened to the quiet hum of the house before advancing. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I tiptoed down the hallway. My eyes were fixed on my mum’s bedroom door the entire time. Thankfully, she did not wake up.

I hurried downstairs, grabbed my jacket, and stepped out into the chilly night. The lampposts cast a soft glow on the deserted pavement. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl at this hour of the night.

My house was just across the narrow road, so I could always retreat to safety if anything should happen. However, what I didn’t consider was the intricate nature of life, which my child’s mind couldn’t yet grasp.

It was a terrible idea. I knew that very well. Of course, I did. But something compelled me to act the way I did that night. It was like my mind was a tangled ball of yarn, and I couldn’t find the end to unravel it. Looking back on it now, I realise I was just a kid – a dull kid who didn’t know any better.

Turning around the side of the mansion, the rustling of leaves in the dense bushes startled me way more than I wanted to admit. Rooted to the spot and unable to move an inch, I perked up my ears. But whatever had caused the sudden noise faded away.

Something else caught my eye. One of the lace-curtained windows was slightly ajar—not a huge gap, but enough for a breeze to slip through and brush against me.

I was never one to snoop around, but my curiosity got the better of me. I took a glance in, assuming there was nobody at home. That one mistake set off a chain of events that led me down a path of ruin. If only I had turned around and returned home…

The drawing room was a sight to behold, with its opulent decorations and gold-dusted ornaments. A chandelier hung in the centre, its crystals catching what little light there was and sending faint rainbows dancing across the walls. Looking around, I couldn’t help but notice the oblong table across the cherry settee. The table was covered with china plates and gleaming silverware, and in the centre was a steaming turkey that looked mouthwatering.

Sensing a strange presence, I looked behind me. My heart raced as I scanned the area. No one was there – yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me. That was when I figured it was time to go back home.

But as I turned my back to the ajar window, a loud clatter echoed through the air, like the sound of silverware crashing to the ground. My initial thought was that a gust of wind had knocked the dishes off the table or something. None of the plates or silverware, however, were toppled over or shattered into pieces. Where had that noise come from?

As I let my darting eyes search every nook and cranny for an answer, they soon settled on the redwood door in the far-left corner. It was closed moments before, I was pretty sure, but now the door was gaping wide. I squinted to see it more clearly, intently trying to recall whether the door had been left open this entire time or cracked open just recently. That was when I saw it. The shadowy figure.

The ground slipped beneath my feet and I stumbled backwards. Panic gripped me as the shadow grew larger with every breath. Everything around me came to a sudden halt as if by magic, even time itself, and I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp. I didn’t even realise I was holding my breath. Not until the shadowy figure locked eyes with me and crawled out of the window.

I struggled to get up from where I had fallen on my buttocks, but once I did, I charged across the road like a maniac. Sprinting home with all that I had, I locked the door and collapsed.

I gasped for air, my heart pounding like it would tear through my chest. When my mum ran downstairs, she found me in a daze. No words escaped from my lips. It was like I had lost the ability to speak.

I cried my heart out, shuddering from the peril I’d just escaped, and my tears soaked into the fabric of her nightgown. But there was no reason for me to cry.

Yes, I saw something, at least I thought I did, but at the same time, I didn’t. Was it a person? A ghost? I couldn’t even tell. All I knew was that something really terrible would’ve happened had I not regained my senses and fled.

From that day on, I avoided the beige mansion like a pest. The boys stopped hanging out with me; they mocked me for chickening out, saying I was acting like a scared little girl. Maybe I was. A scared little girl, that is… All I knew was that I would never set foot there ever again. But my friends ditching me wasn’t even the scariest part.

No one ever laid eyes on the Bells after that night. They vanished without a trace. It was almost like they had been erased from existence – as if they had never been alive, to begin with. But that was hardly possible. My mum and I both saw Mrs Bell. I didn’t make all these things up in my mind. Everything I saw was real – even if I couldn’t prove it.

Time slipped by unnoticed, and before I knew it, several months elapsed. Little did I know, things were about to take a turn for the worse.

The world froze in time as the winter morning frost settled, and the only sound was the crunch of footsteps on the icy grass. The hills of powdery snow rose all around me, and there she was, standing tall amid it all and beckoning me to come closer to the beige mansion.

A wintry princess in black, surrounded by snowy hills – like a macabre painting from a distant past.

That was the first time I saw her. Merida. Merida Bell. Even after all this time, the mere mention of her name made me shudder. She haunted my mind like a parasite, feeding off of my memories of her. From sunrise to sunset, she consumed my thoughts.

I was on my way home from school when I spotted her for the second time. She sat on the porch. Her head was buried in her pale, slender hands. I recognised her immediately, but she seemed oblivious to my presence. I decided to watch her some more. Was she crying?

She lifted her head, and her eyes locked onto mine. But this time, I stood my ground instead of backing away. Surrounded by the hustle and bustle of people, I knew I had nothing to fear. She tilted her head to the side and her pearl-black eyes narrowed. I tried to be friendly and waved, but she ignored me and slipped back into the beige mansion.

The third time I saw her was at school. We were part of the same batch. But she ended up in a different class than me. She spent the entire day staring out of the window, lost in her thoughts and oblivious to her surroundings. My friend, Ryu, told me that her name was Merida Bell and that she had transferred to our school from a city that was a 40-mile drive away.

It didn’t take long before everyone was talking about her. The rumours spread like wildfire. It was blatantly obvious that she came from an affluent background, but no one knew why her family moved to the countryside. Hearing the nasty stuff the other kids came up with, I kind of felt bad for her. But who was I to butt in and make myself a target? And it didn’t exactly look like Merida cared for these rumours, anyway.

Leaving the classroom that same afternoon, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and made my way back home. It was then that I saw Merida’s curly hair bouncing in the wind a few steps ahead of me on the pavement. She dragged her foot as if she was too lazy to walk properly.

Some neighbourhood kids threw things at her, shouting insults, but she kept advancing without even once glancing at them. I chased the kids away and followed closely behind her, staying out of sight as much as possible while keeping a watchful eye on her. How could she be like this? So oblivious to those around her.

Halfway down the street, however, she paused and turned around. Embarrassed, I dropped my eyes and felt a rush of heat on my cheeks. Did she catch me staring? I didn’t mean to come off as a creep, but I think I did.

Taken aback and unsure of what to do, I looked up to see her making her way towards me. My heart skipped a beat when she called me by name. My mind went blank, and I was left stunned. How come she knew my name?

Her black eyes seemed to hold all the secrets of the world, sparkling like the moon reflecting off the surface of a shimmering lake. The colour of her plump lips was so vibrant that it was almost as if they were painted on – a perfect shade of cherry red. She was beautiful.

“What do you want?”

I stood there, searching for the right words to say, unsure of how to explain myself and not come off as a weirdo. I must have looked more confused than I thought I did – or wished – for she repeated her question and added one more.

“Why are you following me?”

“I think there’s a—”

“I saw you looking through the window that night. You’ve been watching our house ever since.”

“That night?” I racked my brain before the gravity of her words finally settled. That night! That meant she saw me? But I didn’t see her. How did she—I looked up.

“Why are you doing this? You do realise stalking can get you in juvie, right?”

 “I… I didn’t mean to go to your house, it just… I thought I saw something and I wanted to—”

“Saw something? You’ll have to do better than that to fool me!”

“I- I did see something! I swear! Or… at least I think I did.”

“Right,” she said, adding nimbly. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

I resigned myself to the situation with a sigh. She wasn’t going to believe me no matter what I told her.

“Forget it; shouldn’t have said anything.”

She rushed up to me. “Are you being serious?”

“Never mind what I said…”

“What… what did it look like? The thing you saw.”

I looked at her, my mind churning as I tried to process her words. She repeated her question, each syllable clearly pronounced so that there was no room for misunderstanding. Seeing my bewildered expression, she looked around us before dragging me along.

“I know a secret place where we can be alone. Follow me.”

She’d just accused me of stalking, and now she wanted me to follow her. As I broke free from her firm grasp, she slipped away into a dark alleyway a few blocks away from our neighbourhood. Despite the bright daylight, a sense of unease crept over me as I approached her.

“So, what did it look like?”

She stressed the word ‘it’, drawing out the vowel sound as if trying to make a point. I shut my eyes for a moment and tried to recall the past I tried to forget. She repeated herself.

“Honestly, I have no idea. It… it was pitch-black. I couldn’t see a thing.”

“You said you saw it.”

“I said I thought I saw something.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Look, I don’t have a clue, all right? Can I go now?”

Just as I was about to leave, she clamped onto my arm with an unearthly force. I winced as her nails dug into my flesh.

“Just… just tell me what it looked like.”

“I told you – I don’t know!”

“Please, just say something – anything!”

My words caught in my throat as her desperate voice cracked. What was up with her? Why did it even matter?

“All I saw was a table full of food and—”

“Table full of food? What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean? You said you saw me! Then you must’ve seen the table as well!”

“No… no, I did not.”

By this point, my patience was wearing thin. The images from that night replayed on repeat in my mind and haunted me. I knew what I saw, and none of it was a hallucination.

I wrenched my hand free from her grasp and retreated. She shouted something, but the distance between us made it impossible for me to catch her words.

My jaw was clenched, and my fists were balled up as anger coursed through every fibre of my being. Being accused of being a creep was bad enough, but now I was being accused of being a bloody liar as well.

I lay in bed that night and listened to the sound of the rain tapping against my window. Her words echoed in my mind over and over again. I couldn’t tell if my memories were real or just a product of my mind any longer. But if they were real, then why did her words get to me so much?

Even though it was obvious she was lying, one way or the other, I couldn’t help but feel like there was some truth in what she said. Was I mistaken about everything? How? Why? Was my mind playing tricks on me? No, that couldn’t be it.

That night, I was completely awake and alert. The opulent table was right there in plain sight, I was sure. Merida must’ve seen it too, or at least, caught a whiff of the dishes. But she said I was wrong, she said there was no table. Nothing made sense. It was driving me up the wall.

With a grunt, I sat up in bed, feeling the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. It was like I was losing my grip on reality, unsure if I was being gaslit or if my brain was meddling with my memories and showing me things that never happened.

When I arrived at school the next day, I was surprised to find a note on my desk. I snuck into the boys’ restroom to read it. The message used a strange mix of capital and lowercase letters. It was so short that it could hardly be called a letter.

I Know wHat yOu dId

Why did she feel the need to tell me this? I couldn’t wrap my head around the way her mind worked. I tossed the note, watching it swirl down the toilet bowl and vanishing from sight. With the note gone, I decided to invite Ryu over for a game night. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

We were so engrossed in playing games we lost track of time, and before we knew it, my mum returned from work.

The smell of exhaust fumes filled the air as Ryu’s mum pulled up an hour later to take him home. As much as Ryu’s presence helped me forget about the beige mansion, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to it again as I gazed across the road.

I stood in the doorway, listening to the sound of my mum’s footsteps as she went back inside, while Ryu’s car disappeared around the corner. The beige mansion loomed before me – its eerie grandeur impossible to ignore.

I squinted. What was that? A person? It moved closer to me, whatever it was. I blinked and stared down at my feet, feeling the weight of the world as I stood there in silence. My feet felt glued to the ground. Why couldn’t I move?

With each step, the shadowy figure moved more erratically, its body contorting in unnatural ways. I felt my body tense up as panic flooded my senses, leaving me gasping for air. I shut my eyes. The weight of dread settled in my stomach as I prepared for what was to come.

Then I felt the rough grip of two hands pulling me back into the hallway before the door slammed shut. Collapsing on my knees, I heard the click of the lock as my mum peered through the peephole. It was real. I wasn’t hallucinating. But the thing we saw couldn’t be explained by science or reasoning.

My mum yanked me up, and we dashed up the creaky stairs. She opened the hatch to the attic, and I reluctantly climbed up. She followed, trying to ascend as quickly as possible, but her efforts were cut short by a loud bang on the locked door.

She put a finger to her lips, warning me to be quiet before descending the wooden ladder. Peering through the gap in the hatch, I could see her fingers gripping the doorknob as she stood there, trying to keep whatever was on the other side locked. Not once did she turn around and look back.

I could hear my heart pounding in my chest as she finally twisted the doorknob and opened the door. The echo of her footsteps faded away, and I knew deep down that this was the last time I would see her. Tears streamed down my pale cheeks.

The sound of my mum’s screams reverberated through the empty hallway. I blocked my ears. I didn’t leave the attic. I couldn’t. That night, my mum disappeared without a trace. The police found no evidence of foul play. They believed she left on her own.

I lived with my grandmother afterwards. Ten years went by. Merida and I stayed in contact. She believed me, she was the only one who did. The tragedy that befell her family also affected mine.

The creature, she said, was fuelled by curiosity, and the more I tried to uncover its secrets, the more it yearned to be noticed. I summoned it, she said, and now my mum was no more. But it wasn’t like that. It never was. In the end, it was the moment I stopped grieving that made it angry, only I learnt this too late – far too late.

Night after night, I witnessed my mum lock me in the attic and disappear down the hallway. It was driving me mad. I couldn’t shake off the guilt that was eating away at me, and waves of shame kept hitting me time and again.

To break the vicious circle, I fell asleep to the image of her smiling face. It was the only thing that kept the nightmares at bay. Merida told me to stop dwelling on the past and to focus on tomorrow instead.

Try as I might, I couldn’t do it. It was always on my mind, the shadowy figure, and I couldn’t help but think about it. My heart yearned for its arrival. I wanted it to take me to my mum. But it never came.

Merida and I developed a romantic relationship in our twenties. She said she liked me since the first time she saw me but couldn’t confess her feelings until our late teens. I didn’t feel the same way about her. For a long time, all I felt was a sense of pity. But I needed her friendship and I couldn’t bear to see her leave me.

When she gave me an ultimatum – either her or no one – I chose her. She was in love, madly in love, which surprised me. I sort of always knew she had a crush on me but I never knew it was this deep and this persistent over the years.

Our first night… I couldn’t go through with it. I told her I couldn’t. I saw her more as a sister than a lover, and my complex feelings for her led us into this awkward position. She left in the middle of the night and didn’t return my calls for several weeks.

Without her, as strange as that was, I found myself in a more stable place. I was feeling better, much better. The heavy weight in my chest lifted, the nightmares ceased, and my mum no longer disturbed my sleep.

When Merida returned, I broke things off with her and decided to take a break and heal my scars. She didn’t take it well. A neighbour had to step in as she screamed and cursed at me. I had never seen this side of her – never imagined she could be so violent, so unhinged. It felt like I had dodged a bullet. A big one.

Soon afterwards, I landed a job as a butcher, just a short ten-minute walk away from home. Life started improving. It was the best decision of my life – at least while it lasted. But sometimes, I’d find myself staring too long at Gin, wondering if her laugh had always sounded quite like that. Or if the colour of her eyes had shifted. I chalked it up to paranoia. But was it?

Mr Jekeil was the one who hired me. We worked together most of the time, taking turns between the butchery downstairs and the counter.

Gin, the girl I fell in love with, was Mr Jekeil’s only daughter. She was out of my league in more than one way. Gin was a university graduate and had a 9-5 office job in a world-renowned investment bank.

It is kind of funny I think about this now, but she had the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. When she beamed, time came to a halt.

I confessed to her on the day we strolled down the street aimlessly – young, reckless and madly in love. With her in her arms, I was another person. She was the drug I needed to heal, the calm after the storm, and she was real.

We kissed. The rest is history.

Mr Jekeil had seen it coming for he told me one night to take good care of her. I intended to do that. Gin made my past non-existent. All those miserable events that shaped my life and my personality vanished in a puff of smoke. Yet, sometimes, I’d wake in the night gasping for air – not from nightmares, but from the absence of them. Like something was missing. Something that had fed off my sorrow for so long it couldn’t stand my happiness…

And like this, another decade passed in bliss. I was now the father of a three-year-old daughter, Emma, and I finally understood what my late mum must have felt when she locked me in the attic and faced her demise. I felt the same way. I would do anything to keep my baby girl safe.

I had no father of my own but I tried my best to be a good dad for my daughter and the best husband for Gin who made dreams come true. It was a miraculous feat, and I was fearing its collapse.

The past no longer haunted me, I swear it did not, but sometimes I found myself looking across the street and shuddering. The paranoia eating my heart out hadn’t consumed me yet. But both Gin and I sensed it – growing deeper, bolder, with every passing year.

She suggested we consult a psychologist – a former friend of hers from university. We arranged a session just two weeks later. I never went to that consultation. I never had the chance to.

It was the dead of night. Gin slept with our daughter in the next room in the hallway while I was still wide awake. We went to bed early that day since Gin had to go to work at half past six to finish a report. We woke up three hours later to a bone-chilling scream. I was the first to find our daughter hiding under her draped bed.

The window was open, the whistling wind chilling the inside of the room and rocking the window like it was singing a sombre lullaby. We were on the second floor by the way and the window was secured just in case. I still can’t wrap my head around how it became unlocked. It shouldn’t have. Gin slept with our daughter that night and asked me to wake her up at five o’clock.

I lay on the side and hugged the pillow I rested my head on, watching the moaning wind from our bedroom window as it forced the crooked trees to sway in a macabre dance in the middle of the night. I must have dozed off not long after.

I awoke to the alarm I set up and noted that it was still dark outside. After putting on my clothes, I dragged my feet across the hallway and opened the door to our daughter’s bedroom.

I was still groggy, but I knew the gruesome sight before me wasn’t a dream. The wallpaper was shredded, the rug torn down the middle, the closets stood wide and empty, and the lamp was crushed into shards of bloody glass.

I stopped breathing and backed away. There was blood everywhere. I pulled the ripped covers down and frantically tried to find a sign of life. When I didn’t find any, I looked out through the open window and out into the darkness, which was about to turn azure. No one was outside.

A shard of glass cut into my feet as rushed out of the room and downstairs. My eyes grew wide. There, right there, in front of the cracked front door, I saw a grin I knew too well.

I took a step forwards, holding my breath. The shadowy figure carried my little girl. It was as still as the rigid mountains, lifeless and stiff like the undead, just like how I remembered it.

I stepped forwards, my hands reaching out, desperate to stop it. It grinned wider than before. Had I brought it here? No, I stopped being curious about it the day I met Gin. I just wanted to live. I just… How did it find me?

I glanced to the left and noticed a wooden block with a knife on top of the marble counter. It was a gift from Gin so I took care of it like a baby, so that it would never become stale and useless. But it was too far away from where I stood. It would be safer to charge forwards than seize the knife. Still, it was the only thing that made sense at the moment.

I snatched the knife and lunged at it. The figure didn’t budge. I raised the knife and drove it through its hollow chest. Its wolfish grin turned into a horror-stricken expression, and the dark and hollow eyes turned brown.

I pulled the knife out of my wife, who collapsed with our daughter in her arms. It was first then that I noticed the pool of blood beneath my feet and found my little girl stabbed more times than I wanted to count. Her tiny head hung by a thread from her severed neck.

I collapsed beside them.

The bloody knife fell through my trembling fingers and my laboured breath came in short, ragged bursts. As I turned my head and peered out of the open door, I noticed a dark figure amidst the downpour.

I couldn’t discern its face at first, but I knew who it was. It spoke to me. A wretched shriek escaped from my lips as I grabbed the blood-stained knife and tightened my grip around the shaft. Merida. Merida Bell.

Running into the brightening darkness, I stabbed her until she bled to death and the rain washed her away. Only a trail of blood on the pavement remained as evidence of her existence. Every fragment of her presence in my mind evaporated with the prattling torrent.

That was when I knew Merida lied to me. The shadowy figure didn’t feed on my curiosity, it fed on my grief. The happier I became, the more I forgot the past and the hungrier it became. Mrs Bell didn’t invite us in out of rudeness. It all made sense now. She acted the way she did to keep us safe. Because once grief took root, it opened the door. And once it opened, it never shut again. And I had kept it open, all these years, without knowing…

That night, when I went out to explore what was hidden in bushes, Mrs Bell had already been murdered. Now I knew she was also the one who took away my mum. She wanted me to be all alone and hers only – her prey. She fed on me like the parasite she was. In the end, it was my fault – all of this.

I covered my eyes, my hands trembling out of control. I was still holding the bloody knife. But the trail of blood was no longer in the current. I don’t know if it was really her I killed. Maybe she was just another mask it wore. Maybe she never existed at all…

A car door opened behind me. Someone yelled at me to put the knife on the ground and raise my hands. As the police handcuffed me, I looked over my shoulder to bid farewell to my family. Dejected. Without hope. In despair.

I frowned. My heart skipped a beat. The woman on the floor wore Gin’s robe, but it hung differently, shorter than I remembered. Her hair was parted the wrong way, too. The little girl’s socks were green, not pink. Gin would never have let her wear mismatched socks.

That’s when it hit me. These weren’t my family. I had never seen these people before!

I shoved the officer aside and frantically searched the deluge, trying to find a trace of my missing family. The officer shoved me to the ground. I turned my head and looked into his eyes, pleading with him.

“It’s not them! These people, I-I don’t know them!”

He followed my eyes, I think he could see the last bit of good in me, then forced me up and into the police car. Something in his gaze told me he knew I was telling the truth, but he feigned ignorance, or so I thought. I’ll never forget the terror in his eyes as he looked into mine. Never. Like I was some kind of monster…

I wasted away in prison for over a decade. I was placed on death row for the murder of my family. But I didn’t do it. I saw it – clear as day! Those people weren’t my family! I had never seen these people before – not once in my life! The officer knew I was telling the truth – I could see it in his eyes. But no one believed me – no one wanted to believe.

As the injection took hold and darkness crept in, all I could think about was my wife and daughter. Where were they? What happened to them?

Mr Jekeil was there too, watching me, although I couldn’t see him through the glass. He would never forgive me – nor should he. I failed to protect my family. I promised him I would, but I failed.

The last image that burned into my fading mind was her.

Merida. Merida Bell.

Merida and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. From childhood crushes to the heartbreaks of adolescence… we went through it all together.

I wish we didn’t.

Uber Driving Gone Wrong

Photo by Strange Happenings on Unsplash

I sank into the leather seat and looked up at the car roof after dropping off my last customer for the night.

A sigh escaped from my lips as I sank further into the driver’s seat.

Too drained from working night shifts three times a week the last couple of months, my eyelids gave in and were as heavy as lead.

But the silence did not last for long. A notification popped up on my phone and stirred me up. A customer wanted to be picked up at a quarter to three in the witching hour.

As I was about to call the customer and refer them to a colleague of mine, another notification popped up.

I sat up straight upon seeing the numbers on the screen. $1,000?

I punched in the address on the in-built GPS. $1,000 for a ride twenty-five miles from the pickup location? What were the chances?

Levi, my friend and another Uber driver working night shifts, said, quote, if something’s too good to be true, it is, end quote.

From what he told me, these kinds of customers were almost all exclusively either influencers doing social experiments or teenagers with nothing better to do but prank hard-working people like us for a hard laugh.

As if I hadn’t enough on my hands and mind already, a phone call I did not expect hit me up just moments later and disturbed my train of thought.

Swearing through gritted teeth and vexed more than words could capture, I slowed down and unwillingly answered the phone. How long was she going to keep this up?

“Hello? Joseph?”

“I’m working right now, can you—”

“Don’t do you hang up on me!”

I drew a deep breath, deliberately pausing to calm my nerves and think straight.

“It’s my last shift. I told you that already.”

“You said that two months ago!”

“Just… just give me some more time, all right! I’m working my fingers to the bone to provide for you and the kids, for crying out loud!”

“No…” Annie said, my partner of ten years, adding before I could come to my defence. “If you were truly thinking of us, you’d start getting a proper job!”

I shut my eyes briefly, trying to control the anger soaring through every fibre of my being. ‘Get a proper job’? A smirk crossed my face. What had I been doing all these years?

Had I the energy to snap back at her, I would. But I hadn’t slept properly for too many nights to do that.

“Listen, I’m not in the mood for this, okay? I’ll hit you up when I come home.”

“Joseph—”

I ended the call and tossed the phone on the passenger’s seat. Rubbing my face to the point the dead cells came off, I slouched forwards and rested my head on the steering wheel.

Annie and I were high school sweethearts. I was part of an alternative rock band called ‘The Puppet Master’, a silly name, I know, but it sounded cool back then.

We drew inspiration from Japanese Visual kei bands like the GazettE and DIR EN GREY. We even had an entire friend group, which was all about Visual kei bands and anime.

Annie was a transfer student and joined our close-knit group during the second semester before graduation. The only daughter of an ambassador, she’d been raised in Japan and was a mangaka in her own right.

Our love story, however, did not last as long as either of us thought it would. When her dad got deployed to another country four years later, we lost contact with each other and moved on.

When we met up years later in our mid-twenties, the sparkle between us I thought had long since faded, rekindled.

We moved in together right away and got pregnant two years later. Annie became with a child just six months after giving birth to our firstborn.

It was a tough time for both of us. My dreams of getting discovered, going on tours, and becoming successful never died.

Between working as an Uber driver at night and a cashier during the day, I frequented clubs with my bandmates and tried to get some exposure.

We weren’t big in the night scene, definitely not, but we still had a small following that was loyal to us.

It wasn’t that Annie was wrong. She was right. I barely slept at home and she was left to take care of both kids, two mischievous boys, and the house chores all by herself.

Not to mention, we barely made the ends meet. Had it not been for Annie’s parents, we’d probably be homeless right now.

I was sorry towards her. She was studying medicine when we met and had her whole life before her. When this whole pregnancy thing happened, she quit her studies to take care of our firstborn.

There wasn’t a day where I didn’t feel a pang of ache in my heart for her, but putting all this pressure on me and deriding me for not being enough wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear.

Beep, beep.

It was that customer again. $1,000, huh? How many diapers did that translate to?

Levi’s voice replayed in my mind on repeat. But if this was nothing but a silly prank, then why was this person so persistent? Surely, a prankster wouldn’t go to such lengths to reach out?

I hit them up. Just to make sure someone wasn’t trying to pull my legs.

A young woman spoke up on the other end of the line. Her soft voice was pleasant to listen to. She sounded young, like someone in their early twenties or an eloquent teenager.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uhm, this is Joseph,” I said, adding as the woman did not reply. “The Uber driver?”

“Oh, hi. Are you here yet?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You… accepted my request ten minutes ago?”

I peeked at the app as the woman carried on in the background. When did I press accept? When was I talking with Annie or afterwards? I couldn’t even tell.

“Sorry ‘bout that. It seems like there’s some kind of mistake on my part.”

“You’re not backing off, are you? I really need this ride. Please.”

I scratched the side of my brow and took another look at the address on the GPS. It was literally in the middle of nowhere, the place this person wanted to be dropped off.

Moreover, I was the only active Uber driver nearby, and this person sounded too young for my liking. What was she even doing at this peculiar hour at such a delicate age?

“How old are you?”

There was a slight pause after I asked this.

“Hello? Are you still there—”

“Please, I [unintelligible]…”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

A low tone replaced the airy whisper I just heard. It was as if I was speaking to two different people – that was how different the tone came off to me.

Was Levi right, after all? Were these some bored-to-death teenagers trying to waste their own as well as my time?

“I’m sorry, I already decided to call it quits for tonight. I’ll refer you to my colleague—”

“NO!”

“What…?”

“NO! NO! NO!”

“Hey, is everything all right? Do you need help?”

“S- stay away! I said, stay away!”

I briefly put the phone away to take note of the customer’s name.

“Emily? Emily, is everything okay with you? Hello—”

*inexplicable screams*

The line died.

Without thinking about what the hell I was doing, I started the motor and hit the road. In hindsight, I should’ve called the police and stayed put, but sometimes you do stupid things and you don’t know why.

I tried reaching out to the young woman throughout the fifteen-minute ride. But her phone was off and kept sending me to voice mail.

When I finally arrived at the pickup location, the last thing I expected to find was a graveyard on a wooded hill in the middle of absolute nowhere.

There was no sign of life anywhere I rested my darting eyes. Save from some derelict houses at the end of the narrow route, no one seemed to be living in the otherwise dim neighbourhood shrouded in shades of amber and purple from the rising sun.

“Hello? Emily? Are you here?”

There was no reply. I heard nothing but the frantic beat of my heart and the wailing blasts of wind coming through from the northeast.

What was this feeling, though? As if I was being watched. Stranger still, what was the customer doing in this harrowing graveyard at such an odd hour? It made little sense.

“Emily? Do you need help?”

When I searched the entire graveyard for the third time and still found nothing, I made up my mind to return to the city and from there call the police.

As soon as the headlights switched on, however, something in the direction of the blinding lights caught my attention. Was that… Emily?

I stepped out of the car and headed towards the silhouette who stood with her back turned towards me. Her long, black hair reached to her waist and she was dressed in a white nightgown.

Swaying gently to the breeze, she kept murmuring something as I drew closer. I couldn’t hear what it was at first, it sounded like something a drunkard would ramble up, but then I heard it as clear as day.

“He’s going to kill me…”

“He’s going to kill me…”

“He’s going to…” I stumbled backwards and fell as she turned her pallid face towards me and screamed her head off. “… KILL YOU.”

Crawling backwards in the hopes of reaching my car and getting the hell out of there, I nudged something sharp and stopped dead.

A bloody knife. At first, I thought I had cut my hand while trying to get away, but I wasn’t bleeding anywhere.

I glanced up as the young woman appeared before me. Her neck and body were twisted in opposite directions, and her hollow, wide-set eyes fixed on me, as an invisible force dragged her through the wilted blades of grass and left behind a trail of blood.

I stumbled back on my feet and followed the invisible figure to a shallow pit. Both the woman and the thing that dragged her all the way here faded away. The shallow pit turned into an unmarked grave.

I frowned as I touched the damp soil. It was newly dug. What on earth was going on?

The hum of an engine coming through startled me out of my dire thoughts. The headlights of what could only be another car soon followed and illuminated the vicinity, only to switch off as soon as it pulled up next to my car, which had still its headlights turned on.

“Damn it!”

I kept my head low, crawled as far away as I could without making a single sound, and cowered behind a headstone veiled in a thick layer of patina.

Reaching into my pocket to call for help, I realised too belatedly that I left my phone in the car.

Shit! Swearing under my breath, I glanced towards the blazing light as a figure showed up.

It was a man. I couldn’t see his face, though. I was too far away from him. But it was a man; I was positive.

He looked around himself before turning off the headlights. Although I couldn’t see it clearly from this angle, I knew he now had my phone in his hand and was trying to unlock it.

I turned away and rested against the headstone. My chest rose and fell to the cadence of my frantically beating heart.

There were so many questions whirling through my mind, but none of them put me in greater distress as the one taking over every inch of my brain right now.

What was Annie going to tell the kids? That their father, who they hardly saw growing up just… just abandoned them and disappeared from the face of the earth?

It wasn’t that I tried to neglect my duties as a father and husband. I was just… trying to make a living for my family in the only way I knew – by composing music.

A smile crossed my lips as the footsteps behind me grew louder.

Annie said she fell for me after seeing me play the bass during a school outing. I had a fling with another girl back then. What was her name, again? Right, Laura.

She was a nutjob, man. She was… crazy. I thought I was in love with her until Annie transferred to our high school and took my breath away.

I still recall the first time I laid eyes on her. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I didn’t believe in love at first sight until she came along.

But now that I thought things over, had I the chance to go back in time right now, I would’ve done everything I could to stay away from her.

I didn’t deserve her.

I was a failure.

I messed everything up.

If only I could turn back time and…

Holding my breath, I stared up at the towering shadow that fell upon me. The upside-down view of a familiar face greeted me with a wolfish grin.

Before I could speak up and voice my doubts about the mysterious man’s identity, he bludgeoned me to death.

As my head hung loosely from my bloodied neck, the man dragged me through the grass and towards another shallow pit next to the unmarked grave. I couldn’t even turn my head and take another look at him.

When he rolled me into the dark pit and covered me with soil, he turned my head so I could finally look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know how you ended up here, Joseph, but I clearly remember telling you to be careful.” He paused. “This? You brought it upon yourself. When something’s too good to be true, it’s not.”

I moved my lips, at least I thought I did, but no words escaped from me. He observed with a tilted head from where he squatted as I struggled to speak and keep the crimson liquid from suffocating me to death.

Everything plunged into darkness.

The grains of damp sand smothered me out of air and got stuck in my throat.

Under me and from either side, a heap of rotting corpses screamed their heads off and fought to reach the surface and escape from their deadly cage. I was the only person of the opposite sex.

The spell, which left me unable to speak, let up and I regained back my senses.

Like the others below me, shoving and ripping one another apart to get out of this suffocating darkness, I screamed at the top of my lungs and dug my nails into the hard soil until blood covered my face.

Pram

Photo by Thanos Pal on Unsplash

The scenic road stretched far ahead in the gloaming. Twinkling stars painted the darkening sky as the dying sun sank below the horizon in an eerie farewell.

I rested my arm against the open car window as the whistling wind combed through my auburn hair. Heavy thoughts weighed me down and muddled my spinning head. 

I manoeuvred the car to the side of the road, switched off the engine, and then settled into the upholstered seat.

What was I even thinking? I shouldn’t be here, it was too—I frowned.

My frantic eyes searched the darkness, glassy and distraught from the sudden clamour that arrested me. I looked around the forested vicinity to make sure I wasn’t hearing things.

Then I saw it. A pram? In the middle of the road, at that… How ironic.

I stepped out of the car and scanned my surroundings thoroughly. My eyes sought any sign of unwanted activity in the dim light as I made my way to the middle of the road. But I was all alone here.

The pram looked brand new; whoever owned it hadn’t used it for long. But why dispose of it here and at this exact spot?

I pushed it to the side and watched it roll down the slope until it was no longer visible from this angle. 

When I returned to my car, I couldn’t help but take a peek behind me as an icy breath breezed against my bare neck and sent shivers down my spine.

I shifted my focus to the middle of the road again without really knowing why. What in the…?

I clutched to the door handle. There it was again, the pram, at the same exact spot. Suspecting the worst, I scanned the area for the second time and asked whoever was hiding in the dark to come forth. But there was no reply.

I smirked. My shoulders slouched forwards in relief as I erupted into laughter. The smile on my face, however, faded not long after. 

Someone called me. Gliding down with my back against the car, I buried my hardened face in my knees and rocked back and forth like an infant in search of comfort.

When the third call came through, persistent and relentless, I grabbed my phone and hurled it into the distance. It finally stopped.

But it wasn’t over. With each passing second, my heart pounded loudly in a desperate race against the clock. I choked. It felt as if my throat tightened and squeezed the life out of me. But I knew none of this was true. 

With the chilly wind brushing against my face, I turned my attention towards the pram again. I clenched my jaw and felt the heat radiating from my cheeks from the marrow of my bones.

The despair buried deep within turned to anger in a sudden fit of rage. I strode to the centre of the road and kicked the pram repeatedly until it was completely destroyed – and only then did I stop. 

Overwhelmed with emotions, I reached my breaking point and crumbled to the ground, sobbing hysterically as if I had gone insane.

With my hands trembling and my lungs desperate for air, I instinctively clutched my chest. An intense and agonising pang consumed my senses and muddled my thoughts.

I screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs – on the verge of delirium – frantically mourning the loss of my baby girl.

Screaming until I lost my voice and gasped for air, unable to comprehend the searing pain burning my insides and ripping me apart over and over again while still alive. Why? I just wanted to know why. 

“Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you? Huh? What did I do to deserve this? What did I do? Please, tell me! Please bring her back to me, please, I—”

I held my breath.

“Danielle!”

Ignoring any sense of fear, I swiftly rose from the ground and delved into the mysterious depths of the forest. I couldn’t allow them to snatch her away from me again!

With my baby girl nestled securely against my chest, I sprinted through the thickets and relished in the sensation of her tiny heartbeat pulsating against me.

The sound of footsteps behind me grew louder with each passing moment. I had to protect what was mine. I failed once and I couldn’t fail again. I just… I just couldn’t. 

In the distance, the thickets parted to reveal a man-made reservoir. Its calm surface contrasted with the surrounding wilderness and the frantic beat of my distraught heart.

I stopped in front of the calm body of water and looked over my shoulder. My baby’s stiff fingers wrapped around my thumb as she let out a bellowing cry.

I stroked her pale face and soothed her back into a peaceful slumber. 

“Mummy won’t leave you ever again. I promise.”

“Danielle! Danielle, listen, I—”

I turned around. “Stay away from us!”

My husband took a step forwards, his hands reaching out as gently as was possible. 

“I shouldn’t have—Danielle, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean those things. You know I didn’t.” He paused and took another careful step forwards. “Can’t we talk about this back at home? Hmm? For God’s sake, Danielle! I said I’m sorry! No, no, stay- stay there! I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t… Can’t we just talk about this at home? Danielle? Please!”

I shook my head, my eyes drawn to the dark body of water that beckoned me in an icy welcome.

“Danielle, I- I tried to understand, okay? She wasn’t just yours, was she? She was mine too! She was ours! But- but I…” He scratched the back of his head. A frown creased his face devoid of colour. “You’re- you’re not okay, Danielle. You’re not! You need to see a doctor. I- I’m not saying you’re sick or anything like that, but you need to… You need someone to talk to.”

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were, babe. But look at you! Do you… do you even see what I’m seeing? Do you see—”

“You were trying to bury her! Our daughter! You tried to—”

“She’s dead, Danielle. She’s… You know that too! You know, babe, you know it all! And it’s perfectly normal you feel this way but- but you gotta start somewhere. You gotta heal, you gotta forget—”

“I can’t abandon her! They’re gonna take her away from me! I can’t let them do this to me! Not again! My heart can’t take it!”

He reached out to me again. His intelligent eyes were laced with distress as he inched closer step by step. His bloodshot eyes welled up with tears, silently pleading for me to hold his hand.

I stared at my baby girl and smiled.

“She looks like you. She’s got your nose…”

“Danielle, come here, hmm? Let’s talk—”

“Will you come visit us?”

“Danielle, please—”

As his hands reached out for the last time, my weary body gracefully descended into the depths that surrounded me.

My baby beamed. I returned its innocent smile, that faded away too soon and drowned in my own misery. 

The bottomless pit became our new home. With the pram I bought on her first birthday, we’d go on new adventures, just the two of us.

Now everything would be okay. Here, in the deep, I could finally catch my breath and live. 

The Wolf People

Photo by Axel Eres on Unsplash

My sister’s been acting out of character these days. It all started the day we moved to my dad’s hometown in the countryside. He’s had some trouble finding work after my mum fled with some guy she met on Tinder.

Grace and I were too young to take care of ourselves. I was eleven, and she was only thirteen years old, so Dad figured it was time we met his side of the family. 

We had never been to the countryside before. My dad never talked about his family or relatives, so I always assumed he just… never had one. Stupid of me, I know. But anyone in my stead would’ve thought that knowing Dad.

He’d always been tight-lipped. I got that from him. But whenever we asked about our grandparents, something in his eyes would change, like he was trying to suppress something. So both Grace and I learnt to keep our thoughts to ourselves and mind our own business. 

The day we set foot in his hometown far off in the country, something about the uprooted trees, downcast weather, and profound silence unsettled me.

I grabbed Grace’s hand without being aware of it and didn’t let go until we were at a safe distance from the broad-leaved woods that surrounded this godforsaken hamlet. 

I didn’t know what I was expecting, but the bedridden woman and her mentally challenged son were not it.

My paternal grandmother lost both of her legs to diabetes and had been bound to her bed for over two decades, and my unsound uncle took care of her despite needing help himself.

That guy looked as if he hadn’t touched water for ages, by the way. His name was Carl. He hadn’t always been like this, Dad said. He was just a regular kid like me, maybe a year or two older, when he became whatever he had become.

Dad wouldn’t tell me what happened, though. He said it was too scary, and that he didn’t like to talk about it.

While Carl gave me the heebie-jeebies because of the way he’d stare at us at first, I eventually took to him. He’d come and have a chat with me whenever Dad went job hunting.

He was funny and a good cook too! Grace and I loved – loved – his spaghetti and meatballs! And the strangest of all, he wasn’t as stupid as he looked.

Whenever Grace tried to sneak out, he’d come rushing over and stop her. He told me he had some kind of sixth sense after… Oh, right! I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody what happened to him. He said Dad would be very upset if he learnt that I knew what happened to Uncle Carl.

But maybe I could make an exception this one time. 

Carl was eleven years old back in the 1980s. He and Dad were only eleven months apart and had grown up like twins rather than siblings. My grandfather hadn’t gone missing at the time. 

Carl said my dad used to hate taking the sheep out to graze, so my grandfather only took Carl with him to the meadow near the dense woods. They usually returned before nightfall. But something unforeseen happened one wintry afternoon. Carl fell asleep.

It had never happened before. When he woke up, my grandfather was nowhere in sight. It was the day before his birthday, too! Why would anyone just… disappear the day before their birthday? It made little sense. That was also why my uncle did not think much about it, either. He figured his dad returned home without him. 

But when Uncle Carl gathered the scattered sheep and returned to the barn, the gravity of the situation settled. Also, he hadn’t noticed it at the time, mostly due to the panicked state he was in, but two of the sheep were missing too. 

The authorities swept through the entire hamlet without much luck. There was no trace of either the two sheep or my grandfather. That was when the first rumours about the thick woods began.

The Wolf People. The kids in Carl’s and Dad’s school pointed fingers at them, keeping them out of their plays. ‘Marked by the Wolf People’, that was what everyone said about them. 

Those kinds of things, however, didn’t bother my dad as much as they bothered my uncle. Carl, although older by a couple of years, was easily upset and squeamish.

From being one of the brighter kids in their humble village, a real social butterfly, he grew detached and hardly ventured outside unless it was to graze the livestock. 

Three years after this incident, the missing two sheep returned to the barn. Although they should’ve been famished – even dead – the sheep were in good health. Someone had taken care of them all this time.

In the hopes of finding a piece of my grandfather and easing his guilt, Carl took one of their herding dogs, a Beauceron named Tripper, to the woods the following morning.

My dad tried to talk some sense into him, said Carl, but ever since my grandfather disappeared, a pang of guilt latched onto his shoulder and kept sleep at bay. He believed that had he not dozed off that afternoon, my grandfather would still be around.

I think he wanted to confront them, too. The Wolf People.

When night fell and there was still no sign of my grandfather anywhere in the woods – dead or alive – my uncle made up his mind to return home. On his way back to the main forest trail, however, Tripper perked up its ears and began to sprint in the opposite direction.

It was looking up at a gnarled tree, growling, when my uncle spotted it. At first, he tried to calm the thing down and tell it to return to the main trail. But the poor dog couldn’t be soothed and it certainly wouldn’t listen, either. 

When it stopped dead in a matter of seconds and backed away from the tree, however, my uncle knew something was in the offing and picked up the pace. 

Closing in on the naked tree, he glanced up and found my grandfather’s mummified and decapitated head on an overhanging branch.

Uncle never recovered from the trauma. He relived that moment every single night. For over two decades, he ventured into the woods every morning in the hopes of finding the rest of my grandfather.

My dad, who failed to beat some sense into him, ran away from home at eighteen years old and made up his heart and mind to never return. I think Dad blamed himself for not doing enough for Carl. As I mentioned, they were raised as twins and the bond between them was therefore strong. 

I asked Uncle what else he knew of the Wolf People, and whether he believed they had anything to do with what happened to Grandpa. He wouldn’t say anything the first few times I asked him. But by the third time, he finally responded.

They talked to him, he said. Ever since the day he found my grandfather’s head in the woods, the Wolf People talked to him.

“What kinda talk?” I asked. 

He played with his slender fingers marred by husbandry. A sheepish smile played on the corner of his chapped, thin lips.

“Good things. Usually.”

“Usually?”

His flickering eyes darted from side to side as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. I could tell from the way his voice trembled that he was fraught with worry.

“They… they tell me bad things, too. Really awful things. I- I don’t want them too, though! I- I swear!”

“What do they say? Carl?”

He shook his head, fidgeting, looking from side to side as if he was making sure no one could hear us.

“I- I can’t. Cannot! They’ll hear! They always hear!”

“It’s okay. They can’t hear you here. You can tell me—”

His eyes grew wide. “HIDE! Carl must HIDE! They’re coming for me, they…” He went from shouting and covering his ears to complete silence. I followed his wide eyes to the swings in the garden. What was Grace doing there? 

My voice trailed off as I shifted my gaze back to my uncle, or rather, the spot he was supposed to be at. “What in the world did you… see. Carl? Carl!”

I looked for him everywhere. I even went down to the basement where electricity did not work. When I returned to the garden, noticing that it had become dark outside, I stopped short and listened. Huh? Who was she talking to? 

“Grace,” I said and inched closer to the swings, “who are you talking to?”

She was making some awkward moves with her hands, as if she was trying to explain something to the chilly air. But why couldn’t she hear me? I called her name again, this time louder, and waited for her to spot me.

From speaking gibberish one second, she went mute in a flash and looked at me with a blank stare. It only lasted a few seconds, though. As if by magic, a huge smile crossed her face as she hopped down from the swing made of a car wheel. 

“Who were you talking to, Grace?”

She cocked her head.

“What do you mean?”

“You were talking to someone.”

“I was? You sure?”

“‘Course I am!” I said, flustered, doubting my own eyes for the briefest of seconds. “And- and you were making these funny moves with your hands too!”

“Did you stay up all night again? Dad told you not to you know that, right? Want me to tell Dad?”

“What? No! I mean… Don’t tell Dad anything, he’ll just… worry about me for no reason. He’s got enough on his hands already. You… you really weren’t talking to anyone?”

“Nope. But you did.” She pointed at the wooden fence where I had talked to our uncle a few minutes ago. “You were talking to yourself.”

“I was talking to Carl, dummy! Did you see where he went off to, by the way? I can’t seem to—”

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?”

“That Carl guy. Who’s he?”

“Is this some joke, Grace? You don’t know Carl? Our uncle?”

“Uncle?” she repeated. “We don’t have an uncle, Pete.”

“What’re you talking ‘bout? Of course, we have! He’s taking care of Grandma and- and lives here with us! He even made those meatballs you liked, remember? The ones with tomato sauce and not ketchup.”

“Are you… okay?”

There was no way this was real. I just talked to him and—I looked up.

“What’d you just say?”

Grace met my eyes and repeated herself. “I said we should call the ambulance for your craaaazy head.”

“No, not that one. What did you say before that?”

“The Wolf People?”

“Yeah, that one! How do you know—”

“You told me about them, Peter! What is wrong with you?”

“No, that can’t be! You- you must’ve heard it wrong. Maybe Carl told you about them…”

“That Carl again? Is he your alter ego or somethin’? God, look at how pale you are! You look under the weather! Should I call Dad?”

“No. No, it’s okay! I must’ve… I can’t have dreamed all this, though? What’s happening to me?”

“You should go take a nap. Dad won’t return until supper and you don’t look so well.”

“Maybe I should,” I said, adding quickly. “You really don’t remember Carl?”

“Peter, please…”

“I’m- I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll go take a nap and then—”

“Watch out for Tripper. He’s been barking the entire night since a week ago. I bet he’ll escape this time.”

“Tripper?”

“Your dog, duh? Take him out tomorrow when you’re grazing the sheep. That poor thing’s been locked up here ever since that day.”

“What are you talking about? We don’t have a dog named Tripper! I certainly don’t!”

“Pete, for God’s sake! You know what? I throw in the towel. Just get that poor thing out tomorrow with you, okay? And, no, before you ask, I’m not grazing the sheep in your place this time. You’ve had a week on you. Get over it. You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, okay?”

“Lost someone?” I asked, but my words fell on deaf ears. Grace was long gone. My head spun like a top. What in the whole world was this? A dream? A nightmare? But why did it feel so… so real? It was almost like—I looked over my shoulder as a gust of wind breathed down my neck.

My frantic eyes drifted to the woods in the distance as night descended upon the village. What was this? These stranger sounds? The canvas of twinkling stars beckoned me to follow them, the whispers. The grinning moon turned upside down. I lost my footing. The whispers picked up.

“Na-chi-go-rya-loo…”

I covered my bleeding ears, trying to shut off the voice ringing in my head. 

“Carl?”