Playing The Mind

Chapter Three

A young boy, possibly between the age of twelve to fourteen, floated across the room towards the second hand, freshly painted cot that Anya peacefully slept in. A smirk of amusement spread across his face, flickers of glow radiating from his body. He twisted his neck to an angle, watching the baby sleep, following the rise and fall of her chest. He leaned forward, his arm stretching towards the tiny, fragile body that lay inside and wrapped both his hands around her small neck while lifting her up a little. Then…he squeezed, squeezed as tight as he possibly could and let out a cackle that echoed through the bedroom as he stared at the baby in pain.

This boy isn’t any old boy; this boy is the one Joe perceives everyday through his peripheral vision as he walks along the cemetery path to the main gates. This boy is the ghost of a previous resident. 

Anya began to choke. Snapping her eyes open she let out a loud whimper of pain and then the wailing began.

Joe jolted awake from Anya’s cry. He sat up and blinked three times to adjust to the dimly lit room. The cry was unfamiliar to Joe since Anya had stopped crying on the second day of her stay two weeks ago. Of course, Joe had no idea she was left mute after a traumatic event that had occurred while Joe was at work. From the corner of his eyes he saw flashes of light dissipating from the area Anya’s cot was placed in.

He nervously pulled the duvet away, ensuring disturbance to his wife’s sleep was kept to a minimum. The floor creaked under his feet as he rushed towards Anya. The flashes had stopped by the time he reached her cot, worry filtering through his veins as the baby continued to cry.

“Get out,” a voice whispered into his ear. He jumped, feeling a breeze of presence behind him. The voice sent shivers down his spine. It was sharp, almost an animal-like sneer.  “Get out!” The voice repeated.

Joe’s insides shook with fear but he put it all down to imagination. “It’s all just a dream,” he blinked, muttering under his breath. He gripped the bars of the cot with both hands and leaned forward, just staring as Anya fidgeted in her large cot. Tears surrounded her as they slipped from her face onto the tiny pillow and her face was red.  White marks of fingerprints were visible around Anya’s neck. He picked her up and cradled her comfortingly, humming a familiar tune to soothe her.

“Joe?” Bianca’s soft voice echoed through the room. Bianca sat up,  but she was watching Joe walk around the room, cradling Anya for a while before she called out to him. As she watched him, a smile crept onto her face. He’d make a great father. She desired a child of her own one day.

“Go back to bed, babe,” Joe answered calmly. His voice opposed the way he truly felt inside.

“Here, let me take her. I’ll give her a bottle of milk to calm her down,” Bianca offered, slinking over to Joe. With her silky, white night gown Joe thought she replicated an angel. A smile spread across his face. Wasn’t he lucky? “You go to bed. You have work in the morning.”

Without as much as a disagreement Joe handed Anya over as the wails became louder. He pecked Bianca on the lips before heading back to bed. He lay in bed but watched as his wife strutted out of the room, whispering to Anya.

Bianca carefully made her way downstairs and once she reached the bottom step she stumbled lightly in the dark, regaining her balance almost instantly. After that she watched the floor more closely, ensuring she remained stable. She entered the kitchen, switching the light on.

She let out a loud scream as the walls, tables, counters and cupboards were covered in words and phrases. The liquid used for these words were a deep red colour, dripping off all the vertical objects. As they splashed onto the ground, the dots of splash that should have stained disappeared.

“Joe,” Bianca screamed, panic evident in her voice. Sweat formed along her forehead and her heart rate increased rapidly.

Then the voices began, overlapping each other, reading the words on the surfaces.

“I need you,” came first. “I want you,” was next and then came ‘Mummy.” All in whispers and all were being repeated. That’s when Bianca thought she saw the figure of a small boy in ripped shorts standing in front of her. She held tightly onto Anya’s body, who was merely quivering now. Bianca held her in a position so the side of her head rested against Bianca’s right shoulder.  

“Joe!” She shouted again, backing away from the boy in front of her. She heard heavy footsteps rushing down the stairs.

“Babe, wh ––” Joe began, concern in his voice. He was by her side. He cut himself off when he saw the blood dripping words on every surface available in the kitchen. But the words he saw were different from the ones Bianca could hear, although exactly the same that whispered lightly to Anya.

“Get out now,” he heard. Then came another sneer while the first sentence repeated itself. “Leave us alone.” And the final hiss that joined these was, “I will kill you.” He also perceived the boy, although while Bianca received an innocent look from this boy, Joe received one more angered and manic-looking.

His hand itched and he immediately grabbed onto Bianca’s free hand. You could hear their heavy breathing as he yanked her out of the room, heading for the front door. There was no need of word exchange. A slight nod from Joe and a weak smile from Bianca is all they needed to egg themselves on. Joe pulled at the door harder than need be as they both thought the door would be locked. The door flung open and they stumbled backwards. Joe reached out and stabled Bianca, glancing behind him. There was nothing there.

They continued to run out the house anyway and instead of heaving to the main gates, Joe directed them the other way. They ran around the house towards the back of the cemetery. They had never been this far back before, too afraid to explore everything that made up their front yard. The freezing cold hit Anya’s face and she began to cry again. They didn’t expect to find a shed at the back but that’s exactly what they found. They panted over to it, halting as they perceived a chained lock. Joe let go of Bianca’s hand and searched for an object to break the lock and soon found a rock nearby. He hit the lock with the rock with as much force as he could possibly handle several times. The lock broke off and they clambered into the tiny, rotten shed. Joe pulled Bianca to the far corner where there was an empty space.

They were surrounded by cobwebs and spiders, rotten garden equipment and dead plants. Joe sat on the floor and pulled Bianca to do the same. She sat beside him as he wrapped an arm around her. She breathed heavily and her stomach fluttered as she covered Anya completely with her arms, protecting her from the cold.

“Everything’s going to be fine, babe. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. There’s nowhere to go right now,” Joe reassured his wife, but it did nothing of the sort. Bianca shut her eyes, her husband doing the same and they chanted a prayer until they eventually drifted to sleep.

The rays of the bright sun shined through the windows of the shed, gleaming onto Bianca’s face. At first she didn’t want to open her eyes but soon leaving them closed became impossible as the rays flashed continuously. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times as they adjusted to her surroundings. She felt the cold body in her arms of baby Anya and when she looked down at her, Anya was extremely pale. Her lips had formed a crisp line of dead skin and little purple veins were visible just below her lips and around her eyes.

“Anya,” she panicked, shaking her lightly. Bianca placed her ear close to Anya’s nose but she felt nothing. She placed two fingers under her t-shirt, pressing against her chest but nothing was beating. “Joe!”

She turned towards her husband who was lying on the floor face down, his arms twisted under his body. A pool of blood surrounded his body yet did not quite reach her. It was like an unknown force held the blood back, away from her.

Anya had died. Joe had died. Bianca let out an ear shattering scream.