Motherhood And Other Tales of Terror, Page 2

  That was it for today; she straightened out the garage as best she could. Actually Dennis, her husband, would be upset if he caught her cleaning it. This was their first child and he was more of a wreck than she was.

  The new house and garage had been in boxes for weeks and she wanted to make sure the wagon was safe and sound.

  The rumbling of the garage door filled the house. Dennis was home from work. She had finished just in time.

  ###

  Roused from her sleep, Melissa sat up, rubbing the sweat from her face. There were some nights that sleeping was uncomfortable, but this was different.

  She stared into the inky darkness; Dennis lay soundly beside her. Something had drawn her out of her sleep; she just didn‘t know what it was. Although no murky remnants of a dream remained, Melissa tried to convince herself that’s all it was until the sobbing caught her attention.

  It sent a chill straight through Melissa as it invaded her home.

  There was something in the crying, something lost, lonely, she could determine now that it was a child, a girl Melissa thought as she made her way out to the living room.

  A pale light poured into the room from the front window, bathing it with spectral luminescence. Melissa stared with bewilderment as the weeping drew her in further and to the window.

  I’m not really here, I’m still in bed sleeping.

  She stared out the window, witnessing something that disturbed her beyond comprehension.

  Down the driveway a little girl walked, her blonde hair drab and knotted. Her skin was sallow, her face gaunt and her eyes were deep sunk. Her malnourished body was speckled with sores and her feet were bare. With her right hand she pulled a wagon behind her, a red wagon, its contents more of a nightmare than a dream.

  In it she carried bones, all shapes and sizes, from skulls, their gaping sockets staring at Melissa, to spinal columns, rib cages and femurs. Some of them were charred, others dusted with ash and still others were cracked.

  The girl’s soft weeping filled the night as light radiated around her, the same that filled Melissa’s living room.

  Horrified pity washed through Melissa as she watched the girl turn onto the empty street, the wagon hitting a rock and causing some of the bones to topple out. "No..." the little girl moaned, scrambling for the spillage.

  That’s my wagon. The thought flooded Melissa’s mind. She could recognize her beloved treasure with its white stripe skimming down the side, its red paint gleaming in the ghost light, the rubber handle locked in the little girl's hand.

  As the girl fumbled to pick up the bones, Melissa felt the overwhelming urge to confront her, rescue her from the horrible thing she was doing. She rushed to the front door, unlocked and threw it open, plunging herself into the night.

  Reaching the driveway she found it empty. She paused, shifting her gaze about the neighborhood. She crept down the driveway, peering down the silent road, streetlights glowing with creamy glare. A faint smell of soot hung in the air.

  There was nobody there; no wagon, no little girl and the crying had been replaced with the chorus of crickets, mocking her with melancholy tunes.

  "Did I really see it?" she said. "I couldn’t have. It was a sleepwalking dream. I must have slept walked out of the house."

  The wagon entered her thoughts again and she turned her gaze towards the garage.

  Rushing back to the house, she raced through the kitchen and entered the garage. Switching on the light she found the wagon sitting dormant in the corner, exactly where she had left it.

  Shaking her head, she went inside and back to bed. She would sort this all out in the morning. She was sure she would wake up and remember this as only a dream. That's what it had to be, there was no other explanation.

  ***

  Melissa climbed out of the car, her arms filled with groceries. Winded, she swerved around the door and shut it. She hadn’t remembered feeling this tired in a long time. She felt the baby kick again, causing her to momentarily stop. Again a sooty smell filled her senses.

  Her grocery bags plummeted to the floor, oranges and canned vegetables rolling away like scurrying field mice, as she watched her wagon roll by silently, the handle upraised as if pulled by an invisible hand.

  The girl’s sobbing filled the garage, but she did not materialize.

  "Nooo..." Melissa murmured, stepping towards the wagon. The wagon headed for the garage door and she watched in shock as the door opened.

  "Stop it," her heart slammed against her chest. Rushing to the wagon, she grabbed hold of its rear. She could feel the ominous forces pulling from the other end, trying to pull free from her grip, playing a game of tug-o-war.

  "This is my wagon!" Melissa called, fighting to keep her beloved memories. "What do you want from me?" She listened to the sobbing grow in intensity, joined suddenly by other sobs and cries. Many voices cried out, hundreds, thousands even, a great sadness in them, desperate and longing. They became so deafening that pain actually drilled through Melissa’s ears.

  A scream rattled from the inside of her throat and over lips like a tidal wave. The wagon handle dropped to the floor as the sobbing died.

  She stared absently at the wagon and drew it close, feeling it with her hands as if to see if it was really there. An electric heat was about it, she felt the charge on her skin.

  The baby stirred again.

  Sleep was a ridiculous idea. Melissa tossed and turned, the baby stirring relentlessly inside of her. She lay as fully awake as she did at twelve noon that day. She could not get the little girl out of her head.

  The image of her hauling the bones burned deep. What deed in life had she been cursed to do, so much that she continued it in death?

  A spirit? Could it be?

  Why now? This was not an old house, about eights years. She didn’t recall there being any children living here before. What did she want?There had to be a way to--

  The crying filled the night and she shivered.

  Dennis snored beside her, hearing nothing. A bomb could drop in the bedroom and Dennis would not awaken. The man slept like the dead.

  As if second nature, Melissa threw the sheets aside, pulling herself from the bed. Discomfort stirred with her dread; her body aching and her face wet with perspiration.

  Yet she pressed on, needing to see, to know. There had to be a way of communicating with the girl. She watched the girl drag the wagon through the window, enveloped by the ethereal light that cascaded over the driveway.

  This time the wagon was not quite full. There were some bones within but not as many as before. The girl sat down in the driveway and reached down beside her, pulling something out of the air.

  Melissa felt the scream rising but stifled it. As if from an invisible pocket, the girl pulled a human arm, its skin burnt and charred beyond recognition, some fingers missing, flesh dangling in ribbons. She placed the arm gingerly into the wagon, then reached back down beside her and yanked out a leg.

  It was all that Melissa could bear, in a frenzied haze she ran out to the driveway. This time the girl remained in plain sight.

  "Don’t be afraid," Melissa whispered. The girl looked at her, sadness in her face, dark circles around her brown eyes. There was no light in them, no innocence, no youth. They were wizened with tragedy. "What’s your name?"

  "Rachel."

  "That’s such a pretty name. Rachel, why are you doing this?"

  "They make us kids do it. They make us clean up the bones and the bodies."

  "Who does?"

  "The adults. The adults that are still alive."

  Horrified, Melissa tried to continue, trying to help the poor girl. Through quivering lips she asked: "Alive from what honey, what's happened?"

  "The big fires. Not many left. Everyone is sad, they think we'll be better if we clean the bodies and bones." The little girl continued, as if it was all so routine, placing body part followed by bone into the wagon.

  Melissa stared at the wagon and kne
w it was her own. She could feel it in her bones. "Where did you get your wagon?"

  "Mommy gave it to me."

  "Where is she?"

  "She died when the big fires came. I didn't because mommy put me in the cellar when the alarms were ringing. Daddy wouldn’t come down so she went looking for him and that’s when the fire got them. I came out later, when Mrs. Davis next door came looking for me. She takes care of me, asks me to clean the bones. Lot's of people get sick and die. When they do we clean away the bodies."

  Sobs escaped the girl again as she lifted her head to look up at the terrified Melissa. "I’m six years old today."

  A gasp rushed out of Melissa, a sickening feeling swelling inside of her. Gripped with pure fear, Melissa eased her way back to the house, refusing to listen any longer. It could not be true, it just couldn’t. The realization hit her; this was no ghost of the past but of the future.

  She felt something soaking her legs, looking down she found that her water had broken.

  "Oh God no..." Melissa coughed. "Not now."

  Struggling back into the house, she glanced back one last time, noticing Rachel pull the wagon to the end of the street and vanish.

  "Dennis!" Melissa cried as she leaned on the edge of the doorway for support, her hands tightening on the frame. "It’s time!"

  "Melissa!" Dennis bolted upright, throwing the bed sheet to the floor. "Jesus, it’s time." He leapt from the bed and rushed to her side.

  ***

  Dreams...and nightmares plagued her. Her visions were filled with destruction laying waste to mankind, a holocaust of man’s own doing. The fires roared for days, wiping the world clean, lighting the skies with fury--

  Then silence and darkness.

  The squealing of her newborn woke her from her sleep. Dennis stood over Melissa with their new daughter. Tears of joy flowed as she reached out to hold her.

  "I think we should name her Rachel." Dennis beamed. "What do you think honey, it's such a pretty name?"

  Melissa said nothing as she held her little one to her body and only wondered what would be in six years

  Bonus Material

  An Excerpt from the author’s newest novel Let’s Play in the Garden

  1. Gardens and Origins

  What are you afraid of Merydith?

  Merydith’s childhood had always been rather strange. Where did I really come from? she often wondered. Merydith’s entire life had not exactly been what you would call normal. She lived in her grandparents’ home with her mother, Marion, and two younger brothers. Merydith was the oldest, then there was Tobey, and their baby brother Aaron. She never knew her father. To her it was as if he had never existed.

  The house was nearly isolated, far from town on a deserted road. In order to get to the Santaneen home you had to take a turn down an unpaved pathway littered with rocks and dirt.

  Merydith stood in the sun-soaked kitchen, her mind drifting as she filled the basket. She set delicate teacups in beside potato salad and added a few rose-colored napkins. She put the finished basket on a silver, oval-shaped tray. When she heard the soft whistling of the teakettle, she poured the hot water into the shiny silver teapot. All was ready as she placed the teapot on the tray.

  “Tobey, Aaron! Lunchtime!” she called, and within moments the pair came racing down the stairs. They adored their sister like no other person in their young lives.

  “Lunch already?” asked Tobey.

  “That’s right, I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t ready,” she said with a smile.

  “Merydith?” Aaron looked up at his tall sister. His face was aglow.

  “Yes?”

  “Let’s play in the garden!” he yelled with glee and joy in his eyes.

  “Why, yes, that’s exactly where we’re going.” There was sweetness in her voice.

  “Oh, boy!” Aaron called out as he turned and made his way to the door.

  Merydith picked the tray up in both arms and started for the front door. “Tobey, would you grab the door for me?”

  With a skip and a jump, Tobey hurled himself over to the door and held it wide for his sister.

  As they stepped out onto the porch, their feet clunking upon the weathered wood, they noticed Aaron already on his way to the garden. They followed him down a stone path into a lush, bountiful yard.

  Their grandparents kept everything meticulously neat and perfect. The grounds were like the family’s very own private paradise. The house was a two-story affair with an attic and a cellar.

  The cellar was Grandpa Simon’s workshop. He spent a great deal of time down there and was the only one ever allowed down: family rule.

  A white picket fence surrounded the yard and beautiful flowerbeds filled in around the house, Grandma Gladys’s pride and joy. The real beauty, however, was within the backyard, Grandpa Simon’s ultimate accomplishment, his baby, his everything.

  They entered a backyard that was home to a wondrous garden—a garden more magnificent than anything the family had ever seen. Nothing in the world came close to comparing to the awe-inspiring splendor that was the garden.

  Grandpa Simon owned dozens of acres, and it sometimes reminded Merydith of a plantation, like many others here in South Carolina. The land went on to dense forest that was mostly unsettled, like pure wilderness. In the midst of the property lay a vast garden that was protected behind a stone wall. Atop the wall were many steel spikes to discourage anyone climbing over the wall. The only way in was through the wooden gate. It looked more like a door than a gate. The grandparents left it unlocked for the children to enjoy.

  Aaron sat impatiently by the gate, tapping his foot. He was too short to reach the handle and had to wait for Tobey and Merydith to come and let him in. They all loved the garden, but Aaron seemed especially enchanted by it. “Hurry, Merydith,” called Aaron. There was a squeak in his voice and his curly brown locks danced in the wind. “Hurry, I want to play in the garden.”

  “Now hold your horses, big guy,” Merydith said. “We’ll be in the garden in two seconds flat.” She turned and smiled at Tobey as he stretched out his suspenders playfully. “You can open the gate for us and then we can have a most splendid lunch.”

  Tobey did as she asked. He flung the latch off its hinge and with all his might pulled the handle. The thick, heavy gate sighed as it eased open, a mouth yawning wide to welcome the children.

  It seemed the garden had always been there. Merydith searched all of her distant memories and couldn’t remember a time that the garden hadn’t existed. It was here even before her younger brothers had arrived.

  The three entered at the same time. That was the way it had always been done, and even though they visited the garden daily, the sight of it still left them awestruck.

  It was simply amazing, huge and luscious. It was a miracle of the earth. Everything seemed so huge, larger than normal size, larger than they had noticed in other yards and plantations. Rosebushes, giant sunflowers, all kinds of trees that bore the biggest fruits anywhere…apples, pears, peaches, oranges. There were huge patches of watermelon, pumpkins, squash and many rows of lettuce.

  The aromas and colors were dazzling, intoxicating, stretching a canvas of rainbow colors in every direction with sweet, natural perfume carried on the wind. It could leave you lightheaded if you weren’t a strong person.

  Flowers of all types reached for the heavens. Rhododendrons, Azaleas, Lilacs, Crab Apple bushes, Violets, Lady Slippers, Lilies, Mums, Marigolds, almost every flower imaginable. Even poisonous plants grew in complete harmony with the rest of the garden. A collection of Hemlock, Belladonna, Nightshade, and Yew added to the mystery and magic that was the garden.

  Other plants longed to be part of the bounty here. Trees grew wise and graceful, curling and twisting under the guidance of the sun…pines, weeping willows, spruce, oak, cherry wood blossoms, anything that had roots. Even animals moved in with the approval of Simon, of course.

  Birds bathed and drank from the many marb
le birdbaths scattered throughout the garden. Old wells added charm to the garden décor, offering anyone the ability to draw fresh water.

  Stone benches appeared here and there amidst the tranquility as if growing out of the land. They were perfect for leisurely sitting and admiring the surroundings.

  Paths twisted and curled out of sight in every direction as if the children were walking through a forest instead of a garden. One could easily get lost here and possibly never be found. As far as the trio looked, they found no end to the garden. To them it simply went on forever.

  The one thing that always puzzled Merydith was the extraordinary size of the plants and flowers. Nowhere but the garden did foliage grow so big. She found this both strange and fascinating. The boys couldn’t care less. Another family rule of the grandparents was that no one was ever permitted to pick anything from the garden. They were never allowed to eat any of the fruit and vegetables or ever to pick any of the flowers, no matter how pretty they appeared. Strangely enough, the animals seemed to live by this rule as well. No bird or squirrel was ever seen eating a fruit or nut.

  “Well, here’s our favorite spot,” Merydith said as they turned to view the grand white gazebo that was their lunch site, standing stolid and regal as if built for the Greek Gods.

  “Great, let’s go, I’m starving!” Tobey called as he ran into the gazebo.

  “C’mon, let’s go, Aar—” Merydith turned to Aaron but instead saw him running off chasing butterflies around a cluster of bushes. His giggling made her chuckle as well, but concern still filled her. “Don’t wander off too far, Aaron. After lunch we’re leaving and I don’t want you to get lost on me.”

  He called back with playful acknowledgement and then vanished behind some bushes. Merydith took the tray and joined Tobey.

  Merydith set the tray down gingerly on the round table in the center of the gazebo. Tobey anxiously opened the basket and began to take food out.

  Merydith took out the small cups and began pouring lukewarm tea. It was unusual for boys to take a liking to tea, yet for some reason, Tobey and Aaron did. It was a tradition Merydith had started long ago when they first started having picnics in the garden. She took out three paper plates and set them on the table as well.