R/Nosleep (Get Spooked)

Just Smile

By u/Romanticon

Just Smile.

It's always comforting, standing in my bedroom. When I close my bedroom door, white except for the pink heart painted on it, I can feel safe.

Isn't it weird, how we sometimes forget why we came into a room? I came in here for some reason, I remembered. I came running into my bedroom for something. To escape something? I can't remember what it was. I'm still out of breath, my cheeks hurting like they've been pulled. I don't remember.

I smooth the sheets on my bed, straighten the fluffy pink pillows, waiting to remember. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on my closet door, black dress starched into crisp lines, eyes dark and downcast. I pull myself up, blink a few times to keep back any tears. I'm eight, I tell myself. I don't cry.

Besides, there probably aren't any tears left.
There's a knock on the door behind me. The hinges creak slightly as it swings inward. He promised that he'd fix those, but he never got around to it.

"Honey, you can't hide in here. You need to come down. We're going to start the service soon."
"I know, Mom." I keep looking at my reflection. More blinks, to keep the tears back.

She comes up behind me. Looking at myself, I just see her body, cut off at the neck by the top of the mirror. She's in black, too, although her dress doesn't look as crisp. She's been moving around, welcoming the mourners, getting everything set up for the funeral. Her hand rests softly on the top of my head. It messes up my hair a little, but it's warm.

"Today's going to be rough for all of us," she says, her voice softer, a little ragged. "But we have to get through it. It's what he - your dad - would have wanted. He'd want us all to smile." Her hand slips to my shoulder, tightens. "Can't you almost hear him saying it?"

I sniffle, blinking hard again. I could hear him, almost. When you're feeling your worst, keep a smile on your face, he'd say. Fake sugar, fake smile.

"A sweet smile," I say.

Her hair brushes against the top of my head as she nods. "Yes. Can you put on a sweet smile for me? Just until we get through the service?"
She's stepped closer, behind me.

When I look up in the mirror, now, her head is no longer cut off. I see her face, with more lines than I ever remember noticing before.
But she's smiling. A fake, sweet smile. Her eyes are sad, but she's "flashing the pearly whites", as Dad would have said.

I pull at my lips. It feels alien, but my reflection matches her smile.
She leaves, but I feel the pull of her. I leave the safety of my room, venture downstairs.

Downstairs is a sea of black tree trunks, clad in suits and dresses. I can't remember our house ever having this many people in it, not at any of my birthday parties. The air is filled with snippets of conversation, the occasional clinking of forks on plates or glasses against silverware. The television is on in a corner, with the news.

I don't know why Mom wanted me to come down here. No one seems to even notice me. I weave through the legs, not looking up at faces. Maybe no one will notice me. Maybe I can sneak past, out to the garden. There aren't any toys, but at least I'll be away from all the people.

"Hi! Hey! Hi!"

I turn and look, see someone my own height, my own age. Ellie's dad worked with my dad. It makes sense that she would be here; I just didn't expect it.

She's smiling sweetly. Maybe she's glad that it won't be just her and all the adults.

"What are you doing?" she asks, coming to stand in front of me. Why is her voice so loud? Her eyes are locked on my face.
"Just..." my own voice trails off. What's even outside, to distract me? "Just waiting." Waiting for it to be over, although I didn't know what I'd do afterward.

"My dad says that it's important to keep smiling!" Ellie announces loudly. "He says it helps to fight off the sadness germs."
I feel a flicker of something. "That's stupid. There aren't any sadness germs."
"Then why are we smiling?" Ellie retorts, sounding triumphant, like she just won.

I open my mouth to tell her that I'm not smiling, but I feel the pull of my lips. I am, aren't I? Smiling sweetly. I thought I stopped.

"But there's no such thing as sadness germs," I say again. "That's not real."
Ellie's eyes tighten, but she keeps the sweet smile on her face. "They are real. My dad says so. See?"
She points. I follow her finger. I sort of recognize the man she points at, bulky with thinning hair, a shiny bald spot in the center. Ellie's dad; he came to dinner a couple of times. He's facing away from us, talking to someone in the front doorway.

"What about..." I begin.

Her dad finishes up, turns to step into the house. My words stop.
He's smiling, too. It looks weird on him, a sweet smile, pulling his face too wide. Was he smiling from the conversation? He looks in, looks down at me. The smile is wider. I don't like it.

Ellie is saying something, but I don't hear it. I turn away, walking back into the house. Not running, just walking. Mom told me to behave.
I'd come this way before, weaving through legs. Now, though, I'm looking up. I look up at faces as I pass.
They're all looking down at me.
They're all watching me walk faster, almost running now.

They're all sweetly smiling.

Hands reach down for me. They pat me on the back and shoulders, but tighten to grip my dress. I pull away, but their expressions don't change. More smiles, teeth bared, beaming down at me.

I need to get away. My face hurts from my cheeks pulling tight. I can't stop smiling.

I run for the stairs, as fast as I can. No trying to hide it. Why? Why are they all smiling, reaching for me? Did it come because my dad is gone? Would it have happened anyway?
My room. It's the only safe place. I have to get there.
I pull away from the grasping hands.

They're distracted by each other. I pause at the landing, look back. The smiles are bloody now, flecked with spittle as they tear at each other. No more conversation, just hisses, sighs, gurgles. A glass breaks. A man falls back heavily on the stairs, just below me. His throat is smiling; it matches his face. Red spittle flows down his chest in a waterfall.

Over their heads, I see the television. The news lady is on, but the camera is at a weird angle. She's eating something on the news desk, something that still squirms. She looks up and gives us all a big smile.

More hands reaching for me. I shake off the paralysis in my legs. The fingers are thick and fat, like sausages. Pigs in a blanket. I run for my room.

They're on the stairs, now, behind me. I hear them coming. My face hurts. My breath hisses through clenched teeth. I wish I could stop smiling.

But I see my room. The door is open, glowing from within. I know it's a place of safety. I'll be safe, if I can get there. I'll be out of the nightmare. In there, I'll wake up.

Hands grab at me. I kick one off. A glance over my shoulder shows him stumbling back. The others step on him. He's still smiling.

More hands, but I'm at the door. I pull through, like stepping into a shower.

They let go. I've made it.

The white door swings shut behind me. I look up at the pink heart.

It's quiet.

Am I safe?

A weird feeling washes over me. Like I'm about to remember something...