Mommy's home

 Sighing, I kicked off my shoes as I watched my siblings leave with my Aunt Joan. Perfect. Just another 20 minutes before Sam and Lily arrive. That does mean that I'll have to start clearing up soon, though. I wondered when dad's coming home again. It'd been a long time since I've seen him last and it's hard to raise up 3 other children when you don't have a mum to help you while dad's on another one of his business trips.

I glanced at the clock again before deciding it was time to start to try and make this broken house look semi-decent. I knew I've left it a bit late, but if I tried while Daisy, Diana and Josh (my siblings) are still in the house, they'll ask questions. I can't lie to them, they'll see right through me and we know we're not allowed to have any friends over without permission from our parents.

Just another 2 minutes until they arrive and- Never mind, they're here because I heard the doorbell. I'd say I did a good job on our house. I think. Just wait until they decide to criticize about how badly it's presented. Stupid James! You should've planned it out beforehand!

I realised they were still standing outside and tried to scramble to the door so they wouldn't be standing around for too long and decide to go home.

''Hey, James. Haven't seen you in 2 weeks! How are you? Sam's mum baked a cake to bring with him so we can have that afterwards,'' Lily chirped, trying to make small talk whilst inviting herself in my house. Sam just nodded at me before following her to put the cake down somewhere nearby. "How's Chica? Has she been a good girl?" Lily continued to ask while stroking Chica's fur which I hadn't realised she had snuck into the room until just now.

I rolled my eyes before answering: "Has she ever been a good girl?" We laughed before turning on a movie for us all to watch.

At the end of the movie, I stretched and realised Chica wasn't in the room anymore. She was probably in the cellar like usual. "Chica-Pika come up it's time for dinner!" I called down to her halfway through a yawn. Realising she wasn't coming upstairs, I tried again, calling louder. "Chica! Dinner time!" This time I was getting slightly worried and annoyed. Why wasn't she responding? She usually comes back upstairs as soon as I open my mouth!

I groaned, getting up off the sofa to go and look for her in the cellar since she wasn't replying. The creaky, wooden steps of the cellar groaned under my feet. The eerie blue light from above dad's work bench flicked down on his latest project. Jars of glass eyes stared at me as I made my way closer; an abandoned robotic hand, with its fingers curled up like a dead spider, seemed to beckon me closer. "Chica?" I forced out of my suddenly tight throat, my hand shaking as I reached for the spare torch that had become distressingly necessary over the past years. I flicked on my torch hurriedly, the beams stabbing and darting around the room. A scratching noise was the only indication as I saw Chica's tail disappear in the darkness from behind the looming, metal toolbox. Panicking, I lurched back up the stairs almost screaming in my friends' faces that she'd escaped.

"Calm down, we'll go find her." With a face full of cake, Sam calmly comforted me, trying to form clear words through his muffled speech, spraying chocolatey clumps all over me. I heard the wind howling outside and knew that our coats would come in handily and bolted out of the door before anyone could say anything else. I huddled closer to my friends, hoping that they would think that my chattering teeth were from the cold rather than fear.

I gulped before dragging Sam and Lily into the woods with me, grateful for their presence. I heard a crow which made me freeze in place. I thought that crows didn't come out at this time of night? I gagged as soon as I saw it land next to an owl and attack it until you could physically see blood dripping down it, which didn't help the way the night twisted my vision. I immediately rushed on my journey.

After what seemed like forever, with my boots covered in dead, rotting leaves and the wind howling into my ears, stealing my calls of Chica's name, I clutched the torch tighter, still a bit shaken from the crow's murderous glare. I saw a shaky light descend from behind one of the trees in the distance. The light was jolting and getting closer and closer until I could see a form. All I could hear as it got closer was a scrape, thud, scrape, thud, realising this could be a chance to know where Chica is and if they'd seen her or not. Running up to the figure, I found it was a strangely familiar old man, limping with a lantern which looked like it was glued into his hand. We confronted him, asking if he'd seen our dog, but all he'd mumble in response was: "It's in the woods," Repeatedly. His voice, which had started off quite strong, gradually wound down like an old clockwork marionette, becoming ever more soft mumbled and indistinct. I slowly walked away slightly confused as I looked back to him, inspecting him better. His hand showed a bit of what looked like metal and his leg was spitting out sparks. His limp, becoming more pronounced, dragged through the rotting matter, stirring up smells of things long dead. With a weird robotic jerk, his arm spasmed, the light juddering along with it, moving between the trees and into the darkness beyond.

Suddenly, a bark pierced the silence, which I could only hope was Chica. My torch shone over a dark, huddled shaped. With a bark, the shape seemed to rearrange itself to that of Chica, who launched herself in the direction of what I'd realised, was home. Never had our lights ever appeared so welcoming. We pushed open the front door, the warm air came to greet our cold faces. Sitting down, I realised that there was still a hole in the cellar and Chica was still not to be trusted despite her scary adventure.

Her tail wagged slightly with every lollop down the stairs that she took. With a click, the door closed behind her sealing the door closed. I heard clanks from down there so I assumed one of dad's robots fell over. Next thing I knew, I heard the creaking of the wooden stairs and the scratching of the door. When would Chica give me a break?!

I opened the door to find Chica with something in her mouth. Curiosity overwhelmed me as she dropped whatever was in her mouth, watching intently as it rolled towards me. As it rolled, its hair wrapped around the face. Coming to a stop, the face was revealed. The sparks darted from its neck as it came to a dead stop and I was reminded of the old man in the woods who had been wearing the cap that I realised my grandad wore in the photo that dad kept of him. I leaned down to inspect it, brushing the long, blonde strands so like my own, away from the mechanical face. Its glassy blue eyes seemed to attain sudden focus, its mouth framed with a familiar crimson lipstick, parted and a chilling, mechanical voice issued from its depths, making me scream louder than I've ever heard anyone ever scream before "Mummy's Home,".