The Mooface (a horror story)

Chapter Three

EMMA'S POINT OF VIEW

(Takes place right after Holland leaves the apartment)

Holland gracefully gazelle-leaps out, leaving only a single gust of wind and puff of dirt behind her. That's one of the reasons I personally admire her. On the outside Hol has this innocent and carefree packaging. But if you peel that layer off of her somehow (oh god not literally) you'll find the emotional parts, the angry parts, the intelligent parts and the kind parts. But I guess every person has 'surprise layers'.

I get myself a piping hot cup of coffee. I have always liked it that way, the hotter the coffee the better the coffee. I hold it close against my beige blouse. The material acting as a conductor. Rather than hurting me the sudden heat is soothing.

I gently close my eyes and listen to the natural sounds of the old building. My mother would always say that if you listen closely every old house has music playing in them. I can hear water dripping quietly in the back of the apartment somewhere dropping approximately every seventeen seconds. Some tapping that I'm guessing is in the basement. And little crashing sound that is defiantly owned by the refrigerator. They all play in sync in a tiny percussion orchestra.

Time flies by. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Eleven minutes. I finish my coffee. Fifteen minutes. I get up and open the window. My shoulders shake at the cool air. I tilt my head, looking at the yard. It looked almost sad, flowers drooping like they're disappointed, grass dead and crispy. I examine it.

It has an asphalt driveway that is darker than the pits of eyes, it looks surprisingly new. There is a basketball hoop nailed into one side of the house. I look closer and tied to the chained net of the hoop is a square with a fuchsia X printed on it.

I pull out a mini notebook with a peach colored floral patten and begin to write all of the semi-peculiar things that have been happening lately. I always wanted to be a detective when I 'grew up'. But things happen and long story short I now work as a waiter at a local restaurant called 'The Umbrella'. This is what I wrote down.

•'food stain' that won't come out

•old lady talking to Holland at the store

•lightning storm that shuts down the power

•door slammed on its own

•blood coming out of the shower

•X on the basketball hoop

I nibble on my lower lip and a familiar metallic taste flows in to my mouth. I cringe, the taste reminding me of a certain memory. I crumple and throw away the piece of paper and sigh loudly. My skin thirsts for warmth of some kind so I close the window, immediately feeling thankful for the little amount of warmth in the apartment.

I rhythmically tap the eraser part of the pencil against the bottom of my chin. The room almost felt dank. I delicately brushed invisible dirt off of my light blue jean shorts, with my hands. They felt cold against my palms that are covered microscopic beads of sweat. I sneak in to my room. Every time I stepped the floor boards groaned as if to wake up from a long sleep.

As I take my rather noisy stroll through the hall. My mind wanders on to Holland. Where could Hol have gone? She said she was just going to take a walk. It has been thirty minutes, what is she doing? Counting all of the leaves on the trees? I blink slowly and snap out of my daze when I see a little brown haired girl in the corner of my room. Who looks similar to the one in my dream...

I cover my mouth to hold in a scream, letting out a noise that sounded like something between a gasp and a sound that someone would make if they were choking. I can feel all of the color in my face slowly drain, turning my face in to a ghostly pale color. She was holding three 'Raggedy Anne' dolls, one more feminine looking, another more masculine and the last one was smaller and childlike.

"First, Ertrude." The girl says, picking up the the female doll. She has a deep voice that sends chills down my spine. She grips the blue and white dress on the doll, whose name is apparently Ertrude, a little to tightly. The dress is made out of an old, crusty fabric that looks plain. Fear devours me as I watch the girl cut off a single piece of red yarn hair off Ertrude and carelessly tosses it into the middle of the circle that she formed with the dolls.

"Then, Victor." she says, doing the same thing to the male doll, but a little more violently. I take one slow step back and continue to stare in horror. The girl pauses everything that she is doing. For a split second I think she is dead, but she isn't. She just stares straight ahead of her, at the lilac purple wall.

"And last but certainly not least, Richie..." The girl says holding the tiniest of them all, this time her rather deep voice rising and softening. She holds up the plaid-wearing rag doll and repeats the satanic like ritual one last time. Now there is a pile of musty, ancient strings of yarn gathered in to a messy pile.

"I can sense you watching me, I'm not that stupid." The girl takes something out of the back pocket of the square-like, mustard-colored, floral dress. I slowly grab the wall for support and gulp, trying to be as quiet as I can. Unsure of what to say I nervously let out an 'Uh' sound.

"Emma I believe you're name was." I squeeze my eyelids together and pinch myself in disbelief.

"I'm right aren't I." she giggles but it sounds sinister if that's even possible. This can not real. I must be dreaming. I try to convince myself that I will wake up in seconds and it will all be marshmallows and daisies. Nothing happens. Nothing happens.

I now see that the thing that the girl took out of her pocket is a box of matches. She takes one out and ignites it. My eyes water in fear. No no no. This is the types of things that happen to people in movies not me! I internally scream. She brings the strings to flames. And I swear after she does that some thing changes but I can't quite put my finger on it. The girl then grabs the yarn, the embers immediately cooling.

"I'll see you later. After the other goes." she angrily says and flashes me a glance at her face and all I can see is a big head with an array of familiar, small features. Then she leaves. No not like walk out the door and goodbye but poof gone out of thin air. Taking the three dolls and leaving behind a minuscule handful of yarn ashes. I don't know whether to be scared or curious.

And all I can do is stand with my dark chocolate eyes wide awake as day evolves in to night.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hey everyone sorry if I took longer on this one... And I hope you liked it because it took me awhile to do. I'll try to update sometime this week or something ha. Feedback is always loved! I'd really appreciate your opinions on this whether its positive or negative. Continue reading!

DFTBA!

-Drew🐔🐥