It couldn't just be me. My room had to play some part in it. Reluctantly, I got up and turned on my lamp with the zebra lampshade (that matched absolutely nothing). Maybe it was the diary. I was still keeping it in the vent. Not that it mattered since the heater wasn't on, but if Mom turned the heater on in the morning, my room would be warm by the time I got up.
For added measure, I stuck my hand in further into the vent, in case the missing pages weren't there. Well, they weren't. I hid the diary in my sock drawer (so original) and got back into bed.
I was still cold.
Also, I was hungry. Was that the problem?
Groaning to myself, I got up, found my slippers, and went out into the hall. My footsteps made everything creak, which both annoyed and scared me a little.
It was while I walked around in my big house—in the silent darkness—did the fact that a girl was murdered hear crossed my mind. It made me stop at the bottom of the stairs. I was halfway between my room and the kitchen, and two choices came to mind:
Chicken out and run to my room.
Or suck it up and go the kitchen and get a snack… like a boss (for added confidence).
My stomach won. I straightened up and became as rational as I could be. So what if a girl died here decades ago? Many die all over the place (sad to think about) and nothing bad happens there. Only in movies does that stuff happen.
And then I began to recall all the scary movies I'd ever seen and then—oh sweet crap—I started picturing the Saw mask. I hate that mask so much! I never even watched any of the Saw movies! But I knew about the white mask with the pronounced cheekbones with red on them, the empty eye sockets and Severus Snape-like black hair around it.
I was already at the counter, facing the cupboard with the bread, too scared to turn around because my back was tingling with the sense that something was behind me and all I could picture was the Saw mask.
I whirled around, seeing (of course) no one was behind me. I found the kitchen light switch and flicked it on. Nothing. In the living room, I could see the familiar silhouettes of our furniture. No dead girl and definitely no Saw mask (I had to get over that somehow).
My heart felt like it was in my throat. Get a freaking grip, Bella. You're seventeen!
Well, age is just a number. Feeling too old or too young never goes away.
I rushed through making myself a peanut-butter and no jelly sandwich (we were out of jelly). That's a late-night snack, right? As long as it filled me up, it was good.
I still glanced behind me every now and then, unable to get rid of that sixth sense tingle along my spine. Goodness gracious—I'd never been this scared before. What was wrong with me?
I had the bag of sliced white bread in my hand when I checked behind me again.
A girl with long dark hair and a white dress with laced-up boots stood in the living room, her head lowered and covering her face in the darkness of the living room, totally The Ring at the moment.
A scream died in my throat, next to my heart. I was frozen. The bag of sliced bread fell out of my hands and—oh my God—she turned to it! Then she looked back at me. She continued to stare at me, and slowly, the shock of her appearance ebbed away, just a little.
"Beatrice?"
The girl straightened up, nodding. This was Beatrice Ford. My great-grandmother (rough estimation) was standing before me. She was here. Oddly enough, I wasn't overwhelmed or even scared about that… until….
"You died here."
Beatrice shook her head.
"No? Then who did?"
She shook her head again, and then raised her arm and pointed at me. I shook my head in return because… well, was she saying I did… or I was going to? Beatrice became more insistent and pointed at me again, tilting her head to the side.
"What about me?" I asked. What could she possibly want?
She looked frustrated before she glided toward me. I closed my eyes like I was expecting her to bump her forehead into mine, but only the sound of her whisper echoed in my mind.
Solve this.
*************
I don't watch scary movies. I know I'm not brave enough to see Saw (seesaw... hee hee). With that said (or written), I hope this was somewhat creepy. It was definitely creepy for me imagining this in the middle of the night (which was why I waited until morning to actually write it).
As for that 'solve this' echoing into the distance, I'd just watched Sherlock Holmes (RDJ version) the night before, so I had that echoing in my head too. :D
YOU ARE READING
Cheshire Girl
Paranormal"There were three things about which I was absolutely certain. First, I didn't have my cell phone. Second, my hands hurt from gripping the trunk lid closed. They would probably be useless to put up a fight. ...
Ch. 13
Start from the beginning
