Redrum.

Redrum: short story

-I sat on my bed that day, the rain pattering down on the window sill. Glancing over, I watch the storm outside, the wind gushing in through the gaps; we lived in a small house my family and I, a small farmhouse, surrounded by corn fields, tons and tons of acres. There was something strange about today, yet I can't quite put my finger on it. Mary, my beautiful older sister, barged into my room, smiling at me with utter pure kindness, "Mama says can you help set the table."
I'd nod and stand slowly, straightening my ruffled blue skirt and walking along the creeky floor boards to the end of the hall and down the white painted yet chipped stairs.
"Darling, do you mind lighting those candles?" My mama asked with a raspy voice, she has been ill for a while now, but crops have been low and with that the little money we have wouldn't pay for medication from the local doctor. Taking the box of matches from the top cupboard I light a candle, a candle that doesn't even look like one, it was all melted and mouldy, a sort of off white yellow colour. The match ignites with a flame, an orange glow that lights up the corner of our rickety old kitchen, I felt drawn to the flame, I wanted to touch it, watch it, smell it; staring at it, although, wasn't such an idea as it burned straight through the wood of the match, burning the tips of my fingers; "Melanie!!" Mama shouted, making me drop the match, she rushed over, stomping on the match to put it out and looking at my hands for burns, a scared frown turning to a complete confused and frightening look of despair. She stuttered, looking back and forth from my face to my hands; my hands that suffered from no burns whatsoever.
"...what-? I watched that darn flame touch you, but there's not a scratch on you-" she murmured, still staring at my hands, "my eyes must be deceiving me- go set the table." She took the candle away from me and lit it elsewhere, hanging or placing them in every corner of the room. Taking the pot plates from another cupboard above the stove, I placed them down on the table, almost silently when Theodore, my older brother, and papa walked in, slamming the door behind them, "woo that storm isn't holdin' back at all is it? Might need extra help with the crops tomorrow." He smiled, whilst washing his dirty, sooty hands under the faucet.
-My eyes were locked in place on my dry beans and mashed potatoes, I don't think I've blinked in a while, my eyes were turning dry and crusty. Blinking repeatedly, I looked up, my baby sister staring at me on the verge of tears, I could see something inside her eyes, a fog of fear and pain. She burst out, the fear and pain turning into waterfalls from her eyes.
"Oh dear, here comes the airplane!" Mama said trying to calm her down but she continued to stare at me across the table. I can tell nobody else is seeing what I'm seeing, they just see a cranky child, but I saw the burning in her eyes. Eventually mama picked her up, patting her gently and stopping her from looking at me and she miraculously stopped. Eyes dropping back down to my plate where I pushed the nutrients around with a fork. Why was she looking at me like that? I know I don't feel the same but I'm pretty sure I look the same? I mean, there is only one mirror in the house and I haven't looked in it yet- I'm probably just tired. The thoughts and questions continued in my head, the question twisting around everything, every detail, every memory. My mind went blank when Theo nudged me and shouted my name, the sink was overflowing, I'd left the tap on whilst I was cleaning up. "Melanie! What are you doing? If papa found out you've used up all the hot water he won't be happy. Money is low this month, you know that, and it's our job to help out wherever we can- Mel? are you even listening to me?"
"Hm-? Oh, right, yeah." I'd mumble, and get a strange look from my brother, Mary, Theo and I are pretty close, I'd say. I'm not much of a quiet person normally.
"Are you ill? What's going on with you." Theo said, walking up the stairs with a candle. I found myself just staring out the window, my feet still placed infront of the sink, my hands still clutching onto a plate and old rag. It was almost dark now, the one candle by me was lighting most things, the moonlight from the window lighting up my face.
-I heard the creak of the third step down of the stairs, I have a lot of free time, and so I sit and sew or bake when we have new ingredients in, I've started memorising the sounds of footsteps and which doors open and where, also calculating the time of how long it will take for them to approach me. I guess I'm weird like that. Although I can distinguish the sounds of each of my family members, and even my own, today was almost silent. Silent yet every sudden movement I noticed, like a prowling wolf in the wild, a nocturnal beast, fighting and waiting for its prey. But that's nonsense as I have no prey nor have a reason to have any, right?
"Mel it's time for bed darlin'" papa said with a sleepy voice, I turned to him and nodded so.
-The howls of the wind tapping and brushing along my window and rusted paint of the sill were what I could hear most, but I can hear the scuffle of branches being flung across the floor outside, the swishing of grass against its fellow members. All silence until a tree collapsed outside the left side of our little house. I heard my dad put on his work boots as he rushed down the corridor, knocking on my siblings and my door, "Theo! Come with me." my dad shouted as he ran down the stairs and out the front door, my brother following quickly behind.
"You okay Mel?" my sister, Mary, asked me as she approached with her light blue quilted blanket wrapped around her. She came and sat at the end of my bed, looking out the window at the stormy weather.
"Yeah-?" I'd say, wondering why I wouldn't be. She nodded back with a smile. A few minutes went by and mama came in with my baby sister who was sound asleep for some reason, young children always amazed me, I wasn't fond of the 'mothering nature' that all the girls at school felt. She started screaming and wriggling as she was handed to Mary, her eyes locked with mine. Nobody took any notice as mama was going to light the fire downstairs. My mother yelled up the stairs almost 5 seconds after she stepped abroad from the bottom floor step, "Mary could you help me? Melanie, please can you go undo the washin' line from the attic window, treasure?"
Mary smiled at me and handed me my sister, and I stared at her with a blank expression.
"Um-"
"Mel go to the attic and just take her with you, you can't leave her on her own! I'm going to help mama, be sure not to electrocute yourself!" She said, jokingly at the last line. She hurried off leaving her quilt. And so I went up the stairs to the third floor, taking down the washing line.
-I came downstairs, heading to the rocking chair in the corner of the room by the fire. I'd smile and turn my head to the fire where her mother was lay. I don't like the smell of burnt hair and flesh. I looked to the stairs, it's a shame really, nobody noticed the knife I held, it's noticeable now, in her sisters back that is. Bodies, bodies, I waved the babies blanket, the baby should be outside the attic window now, on the floor. A tragic incident. I must've dropped her. Along with the older brother who was crushed by a tree outside. Just me and the father, well, his neck is broken, rib cage scattered along his organs and placed like rose petals outside. The mirror that was once hung beautifully on the wall had fallen from the storm, smashed and scattered along the floor, tilted on an angle with scratches left right and centre. I stared at the reflection. Huh she seams quite frustrated don't you think? Pounding against the glass prison, she should be careful, she's ought to cut her finger on the finely cracked glass. Nobody can hear you now, I cant quite tell if she's begging for her life or if she's mourning. All that's left is the rocking chair, back and forth, back and forth, but nobody's there? Who could've possibly murdered an entire family with one girl still missing? There's nothing left, all but murder written on the glass, yet the inside of the glass prison, by the girl, so really- all that's here- is the word. Redrum.