"What are we exactly?" Victoria asked.
"You are each equal portions of God," the spiritual Being said.
"But...I don't feel like God."
The Being smiled. "Not alone, you don't," and pushed her back to her bed.
Victoria woke up. Sitting up and sighing, she downed the soda she'd left beside her bed earlier that day. It was past midnight. Caffeine would do nothing to help her restlessness, but right now she could care less, knowing sleep wouldn't come anyway.
She’d had another nightmare. In it, her mother was tucking her into bed like she’d done many times in the past. She had felt her mother's smooth fingers as they touched her ear and the side of her cheek. As her mother was leaving the room, the door clamped shut behind her. In the dark, Victoria could see a strip of yellow light beneath the door’s wooden frame. Her mother's feet silhouetted for an instant before the light shut off into blackness. In the dream, Victoria lay immobile in bed as a chill crept through the thickness of her sheets, making her tremor. At some point, she remembered realizing that it was a dream.
But it was too late. In that instant, Victoria heard it.
The sound of tires sloshing on wet asphalt, a parched scream, and the impacting sound of steel meeting her mother's fragile bones.
As always, she awoke shivering, with her vocal chords releasing an involuntary groan of despair. She rose from bed with her sweaty brown hair plastered against her forehead, and looked out her window. It wasn't raining. That was good. The sound of rain only made it worse. She wanted to leave though. She wanted her mom. Wanted to talk to her again. Victoria could feel her heart burning with longing. She walked over to her study table and grabbed a bouquet of flowers she'd bought earlier in the day.
She left her room, treading slowly downstairs. She knew which steps creaked and which sagged beneath her weight from years of living in this house.
When Victoria reached the first floor, she could already hear the light hum of the television set in the living room. As she suspected, her dad was fast asleep on the couch; his peaceful face dimmed and shone emphatically in the blue hue of the television. When she reached the door, his voice made her wince.
"Where are you going?" he asked groggily.
Victoria turned to face him. "I wanted to see mom."
An uncomfortable silence. He seemed to study the flowers she held. "Now?"
"Yes."
"Baby," he said, raising his head to face her. "It’s late. You should rest. You can see her tomorrow."
She noticed as he spoke that three empty beer bottles lay strewn about the table. Perhaps he too had been incapable of sleep.
Brian shuffled his feet from the glass coffee table onto the floor. "Get some rest, baby," he said.
Victoria nodded. She turned—half harshly, half respectfully. She climbed upstairs; two steps at a time. Before she knew it, she was back in her room where she'd started. But she knew she couldn't stay there. She felt her mother's voice calling her. It was not an audible voice, of course. Rather, a voice that pressed with dripping anguish at her heart; it made her restless inside.
She looked out the window. The glass was cold against her forehead as she measured her jump. Not too high. She'd made this jump twice before; other times when her dad wouldn't let her leave home. Like tonight.
She'll have to make it again.
She opened the hatch and slid the window up with jerky haste, poising her neck out to examine the bushes below her. She tossed her bag first, not particularly caring where it landed, then she dropped the flowers as gently as she could. She then hung over the edge of the window before plummeting in a quick decline for the bushes. Their leaves rustled in distress when she landed. She immediately felt the sting of a few mild scratches and hissed at the pain. Hard not to get scratched, she reminded herself. She recalled almost twisting her ankle after the same stunt a few months back.
Victoria retrieved her bag not too far off. Then the flowers. She walked, looking back over-shoulder to make sure her father hadn't heard her.
When she felt confident that he hadn't, her pace accelerated to a near jog. Although Halloween was a day away, the streets were littered with teenagers galloping around in their costumes—most hoisting eggs and toilet paper to send flying at houses. Apparently one night wasn't enough time to really ruin their neighbor's lawns and homes. To really make a memorable impression. These Marbury kids had to make a weekend of it.
Victoria couldn't tell who was who in the frivol madness. Across the street, a masked grim reaper hurled a fresh roll of toilet paper over his shoulder. It floated momentarily until dwindling into a large oak tree, catching itself in a mess of tangles. At the crossing of Red Street ahead, a juvenile Batman ran up crouching toward a house near Victoria's and heaved five eggs, one by one. They soared sloppily in the air before popping into sun-yellow pus. The boy moved to her house.
"Don't even try it!" Victoria shouted at him.
The masked vigilante looked at her blankly, shrugged, and pitched an egg at her front door. The shell exploded into a yellow gel. He bolted away, a little blur in the night. Victoria's face burned with adrenaline, but she stifled the urge to chase after him. Not now, she thought. She was too exhausted, too spell-bound en route to let the boy get to her head. Besides, the boy was running in the opposite direction of Victoria's destination. She couldn't waste any more time.
Her cell began to vibrate in her pocket. She grabbed it. It was Ashley.
"Hey," Victoria answered. "What's up?"
"I see you," Ashley hissed into the static, attempting to sound like an enigmatic serial killer. "Are you scared?"
"No, I'm annoyed."
"Not quite the reaction I was going for.”
She turned towards Ashley’s house and glared at her dark figure in her second-floor bedroom. "Why did you call me again?"
"I saw you walking. Are you trick-or-treating? Alone? Why didn't you invite me?" She regarded Victoria's clothes--pink pajama pants and a tank top. "Are you supposed to be a...sleepwalker?"
"I'm not dressed up," Victoria said. "I was going to visit my mom."
The static hummed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"Please, it’s fine," Victoria shook her head. "Come with me. Quick, though, before my dad comes out."
Ashley nodded from a distance and hung up her phone. In a moment, she emerged from her door. She walked down the porch and smiled. "Hey. You doing okay?"
"Hey, yeah," Victoria smiled back. Somewhere nearby boys were running and laughing.
The walk to the cemetery was direct. The girls talked lightly as they traveled, sometimes bumping shoulders accidentally or after telling a joke. When they passed Sonia's Bakery, they turned right down Vizener Avenue until they reached the park on their left. It was easy to get around on foot in this small town, where everywhere you needed to go was compressed within a three-mile radius.
The cemetery appeared sinister in the night, as if in some devilish way it were alive and breathing—the hill was the belly of the beast, the trees its wrangling arms, each grave the demon's watchful eyes.
There was a fence that surrounded the place, which was never locked, with a rusty post that read: WHITLOCK CEMETERY.
"I’ll be around," Ashley said, resting her dark hands on Victoria's shoulders. "Let me know when you want to leave."
When Victoria was alone, all was quiet at last. The moon was a brilliant white stamp in the sky, accompanied by a glitter of stars. The steepness of the hill made it difficult for Victoria to climb, but when she reached the top, she could make out her mother's grave in the dim light of the overhead lamps. The flowers she'd placed last week were still there, held in place by some stones, though scattered and withered into dry paper. A bare tree loomed overhead, casting an arthritic shadow over the tombstone that read:
Cynthia Brooke - 1966-2014 - Loving Wife and Mother, Friend to Every Soul.
Victoria bended on her knees then scratched the creases of each word scripted. The grass was wet with dew, forming an icy blanket beneath her. She felt better now. Closer to home. Victoria never felt like she'd lost her mother. Not in the way it seemed, at least. You are each equal portions of God. She suddenly remembered those words from her dream.
"Here I am." Victoria's voice trailed in the wind. "I'm back again, Mom."
The wind shifted directions every few seconds.
She held the new flowers up to the light. "I brought these for you. They're blue orchids."
She liked to imagine that the wind carried her mother's touch. That the whistling of the trees and the rustling of leaves imitated her voice.
"I'll take these old ones for you," she said, replacing the bunch. "And when the new ones die, I'll bring fresh flowers."
Victoria stood and brushed off dirt from her pajamas, then looked at the ground absently. She moved to the side slightly; the idea of standing directly above her mother always troubled her.
"I love y--"
"Ha!" a voice cut her off in the distance. Victoria turned cuttingly. She tried and failed to pinpoint which way the voice hailed from.
"We'll all go in at the same time," another voice said.
Victoria looked behind the tree to find her suspicions met. Somebody--or rather, a group of bodies--was just outside Ashmore house. It gave Victoria a lightning chill to even look at the place. From these heights, its puzzling roof seemed to reach out towards the sky, stretching awkwardly high, even higher than the hill on which Victoria now stood. Ashmore house had been an icon in Marbury for quite a measure of time. Kids relished the place from afar, conjuring up stories that may or may not be true. Adults, however, seemed to know enough about Abner Ashmore, the previous owner of the house, to keep quiet. The man had been dead for a hundred years, but from the way certain people acted whenever you mentioned his name, you'd think Abner himself was listening in on the conversation with a hidden wired microphone.
The subject was brought up once on a class fieldtrip to City Hall. A boy from Victoria's class, she couldn't remember who, raised the question to the mayor. Mayor Dixon himself was giving the tour when the question was brought up.
"Is it true that Abner Ashmore killed his family?" the boy had asked, wrinkling his nose beneath his thick glasses. All the students looked at Mayor Dixon in silence, waiting for his response. It never came. What did come, however, was an unmistakable shudder. It was brief, but Victoria had seen it.
"Let's move on, shall we?" It was as if, to him, the name alone summoned a dark presence in the room.
Victoria had seen Ashmore house hundreds of times when visiting her mother, and even before then. She could easily ride it off as being emotional near her mother's grave, but if she was honest, something about the house had always captivated her. It was as if, whenever she stood atop the hill at Whitlock, an invisible cord would tug at her. She never paid it any mind in the past; enabling the excuse that perhaps fear and curiosity embedded those thoughts.
Now, she couldn't ignore the noise of people chattering away and laughing nearby. Victoria began to walk toward the house, the sounds of laughter growing louder. Just as she was passing the last tree, a shadowy figure emerged. Victoria jumped back and screamed.
Ashley laughed and held her arms out in defense. "You scared me."
"You scared me more," Victoria said, laughing.
"I'm sorry. I heard some noise at Ashmore house and thought I'd check it out."
"Yeah, me too."
"Kids pulling pranks?"
"Probably," she said.
They began to walk together, the house growing ever-larger with each step until it was a massive beast before them. The mansion was that indeed; colossal in every proportion—from the high arched steeple that centered the architecture, to the square windows flanking every yard of the walls—and it made her wonder how they’d built all this in the first place.
Victoria began to feel dizzy. It came upon her suddenly and without warning. She looked to the left and felt the ground tilt beneath her before Ashley caught hold of her.
"Whoa," Ashley said. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I got dizzy. I'm fine." Victoria straightened up again and smiled.
Ashley looked at her suspiciously. "You sure you don't want me to take you home?"
Victoria frowned. "Of course not. I'm fine."
"If you say so."
They reached the house and found Kevin Cooper and his gang, some sitting and some standing, on the front porch of the house. Among them was Geo Malovich, Michael Sage, Emily Black, Sasha Perkins, and, to Victoria's evident surprise, Icarus Foster. Icarus was in the back, looking down at the ground. Looking almost ashamed that Victoria had found him there.
"We heard you guys from the cemetery," Victoria said, stuffing her hands into her pajama pockets.
"What a surprise," Kevin said.
"What are you guys doing here?" she said.
Michael grunted. "Don’t tell her. She’ll make a big deal about it like she always does." He was wearing a gray skully cap that was pulled down just above his eyebrows.
Victoria blinked. "A big deal?" Like when?"
Kevin nudged Michael on the shoulder. "She’s alright. We can tell her."
Kevin turned to Victoria. "If you must know, we're planning to spend the night here."
Ashley's eyes grew wide. "Here? Winston’s dad owns this house now. What if they come or something?"
It was true; Winston Patel, a British student from their class, had recently announced in class that his father had just purchased Ashmore house on the cheap and had already started making renovations.
"He won’t," Sasha said, her blonde hair dancing softly in the wind. "Plus, Winston’s in love with me. I can get that kid to do anything. Last week I got him to call the main office and pretend to be my dad saying that I’m too sick to come into school. He did it! Can you believe that? On his own cell phone, right outside Crockett’s class." Her face became more serious. "This house is supposed to be haunted, you know."
"Why is Icarus with you?" Victoria asked.
Kevin grinned and invited Icarus to the front, gripping his skinny shoulders. "He wanted to come. Ain't that right, Icky?"
He nodded sheepishly, looking like a sad puppy behind his thickly-framed glasses.
"Somehow, it's hard to believe that you didn't trick him into doing this," Victoria said.
Kevin shook his head in disbelief.
"I'm serious," Victoria said. "If you plan on doing something mean to him, I'm not going to let you." She turned to Icarus, her voice gentler. "Icarus, you don’t have to go inside. This place is a dump, anyway. You, me, and Ash can go grab a burger to eat. Burger Blast is still open till ten."
"Aww, c'mon!" Geo snapped. "He's a big boy. Let him make his own decisions."
Victoria’s fingers twitched angrily. "All right," she said, meeting Icarus's eyes. "Well?"
He blinked and looked at Kevin, who was grinning, apparently enjoying the show.
"I..." Icarus started, looking down. "I'd like to stay… I--I wanted to stay."
"What?" Ashley said staggeringly.
All the while, Victoria was stunted by Icarus’s response. She glared at him with intense silence, hot in her cheeks, and he looked away in shame. The entire group was silent until Kevin spoke.
"Well," he said conclusively. "I guess we have our answer. Vicky, you tried. Shall we enter?" He motioned to the house and the group gathered their things. The girls--Sasha and Emily--waited for the boys to take lead. Kevin, being the leader, reached the front door first. The door seemed ordinary enough. No strange knob with a lion or a wolf. Only an ordinary, albeit ancient, golden ball. Kevin twisted it. The door opened with a cold yawn.
"It's dark in there," Sasha said in a shaky voice.
"Well that's why we brought flashlights, isn't it?" Michael said, reaching for his in his bag.
They were almost all inside when Ashley turned to Victoria.
"Vicky, what do we do?"
Victoria was frozen in place.
"Vicky?" she said again, stringing the syllables out slowly.
Victoria finally looked at her. "What do you want to do, Ash?"
"I don't know. I sort of want to get out of here as quickly as possible."
"Funny," she said quietly.
Ashley made no attempt at hiding her confusion. "What is?"
"I want to stay."
"Stay?" Ashley's voice rose without hesitation. "In there? With them? After Icarus humiliated us?"
"Icarus just doesn’t know how to stand up for himself. It’s not his fault. I can’t leave him in there with them. Not alone. Plus, I don't want to go home, Ash. I really don't."
Now Ashley sounded defeated. "Why not?"
"I'm not sure," Victoria said. "You can go home if you want. I think I'm going to stay."
By this point, everyone was inside, but the door was still cracked open. It called for Victoria.
"Aren't we going to at least tell our parents where we are?"
Words on deaf ears. Victoria began to walk to the door slowly, dead grass crunching beneath her sandals. The wind tossed her hair slightly. With each step, the temperature seemed to be dropping. Behind her, she could hear a muffled Ashley calling out her name. Calling for her to stop. But it was too late. By now the air was ice cold; the door one more step away. Victoria raised her delicate fingers and pushed the wooden door wide open. The gang must have moved into another room because the main hall was dark. All black. Too cold to be normal. It rattled her. The air itself seemed to be whispering horrors into Victoria's ears. Or, rather, some might interpret them as horrors. To Victoria, it may just have sounded a bit like, welcome.