The Center Wall

Marge

Marge

I was frightened, I couldn't deny that. I was angry at Peter for leaving me in this dreadful house. I was terrified out of my mind for him. That oaf. And even though Ivy had told me to stay put in Celia's room, I couldn't just pace about the room and do absolutely nothing while my darling Peter might at that very moment be killed by some horrid ghost bent on revenge. I shivered remembering the previous night talking to Philippa. Her cold presence in the room and the painful burning she left on my cheek after she'd kissed it; they were things I would never forget, not till the day I died. She was a ghost. I was sure of that, because when I tried to touch her, my hand went straight through her arm.

Then I remembered with a start that we had yet to search that room. Somehow the three of us had managed to forget about it. I swore to myself and rose swiftly, gathering up my skirts as I lit the oil lamp which was on Celia's nightstand and hurriedly left her room. Of course it was just like me to forget all about Celia, but I was just so excited about this realization. Ivy was always chiding me about my thoughtlessness to jump into possible hazardous situations. She said that the consequences would catch up to me sooner or later. But, as usual, I didn't think. And within a minute I was standing in front of an old wooden door. It had some intricate carvings on it and I stood there, frozen, staring. They were all carvings of children and so realistic and beautiful that I was shocked I hadn't noticed them before. But there was no time to gaze stupidly at an old door. I was terrified, but I wouldn't let my fear of Philippa control my actions in this house. In my house. So I turned the handle to the door slowly, but it didn't chirr as it had the first time. This actually frightened me more than it would have if it had creaked. The silence was so much worse. A cold breeze pushed through the door, blowing out my candle with a whoosh. It was as if all the air in the room had been pressed up against the door by some invisible force. I had trouble breathing when I entered and had to strike several matches before was able to re-light my candle. I slowly scanned the room, turning around a hundred-eighty degrees till once again I was facing the center wall.

"Phillipa," I called out. "Where are you? I know you're in here. I was not hallucinating, I felt you." There was a slight quiver in my voice and my candle shook slightly in my hand, the flame wavering. I hoped that maybe I had been hallucinating, or that maybe they were all in on this joke and that I was only being made a fool. But it was not so.

A voice, monotonous in its entirety, sent a chill through my spine. "Of course you felt me, my dear." It was very real, that chill. I could feel the ice that began to form on my back, paralyzing me. Soon it began to spread to my arms and legs, till I was completely frozen in place. Then, as the ice began to cover my jaw, I spoke, questioning everything before my lips would freeze also.

"Why are you here? What do you want with me? Where are the others?"

"My dear, my lovely Margarette," she sighed her words. Her lips were so close to my face, and her breath was so warm, that any ice that clung to my hair began to melt. "You called me, did you not? I shall always come for you whenever you call for me. As for your friends," she paused and I could feel her smile even through my shut eyes, "I do not know where they are buried, it wasn't I that trapped them where they lie." As she said those words, my candle blew out, be it from her ghostly presence and power, or from the lack of oxygen in the room (for surely, I began to lose my breath), I knew not.

I was revived by the sound of a thud that came from behind me. I found myself quite wet from the ice, which proved that my second encounter with Phillipa had been very real. I also found that I had not fainted and that I was still standing. I was so astounded and still quite stunned by my confrontation with Phillipa. My mind went over the things that passed between the two of us and I felt another unearthly chill pass through my body, only this time, I did not freeze as I had before. There was absolutely no way I could deny the fact that Phillipa was real and I accepted it sullenly. I stood there in that shameful stance-wet, shocked, and horror stricken, until my thoughts led as to why I had woken from my numb state. I remembered with a start, the thud, and swiftly turned around. There, on the floor lay George, dead or unconscious. Which it was, I was unsure.

"George?" I gasped and dropped to his side. I found that he was alive and breathing quite normally. Dazed, I hardly heard that groan which escaped from the wall behind me. The center wall. I was too afraid to turn around, but when a furious thud came from that direction, I was forced to leap to my feet. The fear of having my back to an enemy was so much worse than not being able to see him. I was frozen in place, my eyes fixed to the wall, even as the thuds became much louder and more persistent, till suddenly they stopped. I heard a shuffling then two loud bangs and a boot heel shot through the wall. The boot struck again and again till there was a large, gaping hole in the middle of the center wall. Then again, silence. Till a pale hand suddenly reached out and clutched the wall. I screamed and fell back, tripping over George, and falling on top of him. The hand slowly tightened its grip on the wall and a soot covered face appeared and soon after it, a tall dark figure emerged from the darkness and swiftly made its way towards me. I screamed again and again.

"Stay away from me Satan!" I shouted, holding out my cross pendant and turning my face away so that the powers of God might hold the evil creature back, but, to my surprise it only laughed and I was so shocked by the genuine merriness in it that I muttered aloud, "what are you that you can laugh so gladly, surely, you cannot be evil!"

"My dear Marge," it said heartily, "it is I, Peter! Don't you recognise me?"

"Peter?" I said shocked, and his name came out as more of a squeal than anything, but I was so relieved when I saw that it truly was him. I took out my handkerchief and wiped the darkness from his face. "I don't believe it, it really is you. I had thoroughly convinced myself that you were a demon sent from Hell. You scared me half to death. How could you do this to me, leaving me like this. I spent half the day looking for you and here you were this whole time, hiding behind a wall. How dare you be so cruel to me! Peter, I can't believe you." I stubbornly turned my face away from him. I was shaking with relief and tears began to build up behind my eyes. Peter hugged me tightly and I asked him, "What were you doing behind that wall anyhow?"