Red Alarm [A Detective/Thriller Story] DISCONTINUED

Chapter 7

It wasn't an ordinary night in the Watson's Manor for it was Christmas Eve. Snow felt like a magical thing for the girl. She went downstairs as the family was enjoying the festivities. Phil, the eldest baked apple pies fresh from the oven while Alea and Mason finished taping all the boxes of toys.

"The kids in the orphanage will love these papa,"Alea marveled.

"Yes they will dear," Victor gave her a pat on the head.

Alice saw their youngest daughter, rubbing her eyes, awakened in her sleep. She motioned her to come closer.

"Turn around deary," her mother revealed a violet sapphire necklace. The gemstone glistened in her eyes as Alice attached it to her neck.

"But it's not yet Christmas mother," the girl reminded.

"I couldn't wait to give it to you darling," she chuckled looking at her little daughter - the most precious gem in her life.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted their scrumptious holiday meal. Victor fetched the bagful of candies for the carolers.

"Darling, could you please get the milk from the fridge?"

"Yes mother," she agreed.

However, Christmas Eve inside the Watson's was not what they were expecting at all. It turned out to be a nightmare before Christmas. Instead of receiving a joyful serenade, death knocked on their door. The once white snow was painted crimson red as the manor shed blood everywhere.

The girl opened a pack of cookies. She thought it would go well along with the milk.

"Phil, I-," she was cut off when her brother rushed over the kitchen.

"B-blood P-Phil, y-youre b-bleeding," her eyes widened seeing his sliced ankle.

He grabbed her by the wrist and covered her mouth with his hand. Both held their breaths as footsteps walked past the kitchen along with the sonata of a violin. After the music seemed to had passed a few doors away from them, he took the chance to pick up a screwdriver from one of the drawers. He opened the vent, large enough for his little sister to fit in.

"You need to get out of here," he grunted. "He doesn't know youre alive."

"Who doesn't know I'm alive?" the girl asked, innocent of what was happening.

He carried her into the vent before screwing the opening once again. She hit on the metal trying to get an explanation on what Phil was doing. He hushed her to stay still but it was too late. Whoever it was traced back his steps, the sound of the violin grew louder and louder as it finally came to a halt in front of the kitchen door.

"Run," he said, aching in pain.

The girl, shaking in fear, crawled over the metal tubes. Her brother's last word kept on repeating itself in her mind. She trailed off into the woods at the back of their house. Running away was her only choice. As her feet were filled with constant pain, she stumbled over a mound of rock. Her body rolled down a hill hitting a trunk at the end.

"Mother?" she reached out to her who was standing along side her family. They were covered in burning flames. She looked up and saw smoke coming from the direction of the house she wanted to escape from. Were they dead? Was she dead? The family whom she was about to share happy memories with while dipping cookies in hot glasses of milk a few moments ago was gone - gone forever. She watched as they turned into fine ashes. The midnight sky slowly took over her sight and the last thing she heard was a maiden's voice who came to aid the poor soul.

"Richard look, it's a girl!"

Even after she went to Versailles, the little girl's story always had a place in Atarah's heart. Why? For it was hers. A happily never after of a small girl.