The Stairs
Since Rachel Harvey first moved into her thirteenth floor apartment she often wondered what would happen if the elevators ever quit. It wasn't only the thought of trudging up twelve flights of stairs to reach her home that nagged her. There were also the stories that her fellow building tenants loved to tell at every opportunity. They were full of tales about strange noises that emanated from dusty stairwells and former tenants who disappeared after venturing up those stairs to see what was making the racket. Not that she really believed any of it. Still, it was enough to give the sensitive girl vivid nightmares after ingesting a late night slice of pizza.
To say that Rachel was a sensitive gal is something of an understatement. Superstition invaded every aspect of her life. She was one of those people who stepped gingerly over every sidewalk crack and threw a handful of salt over her shoulder if she happened to spill some, even in an upscale restaurant. It seemed at odds then, for a girl like Rachel to take an apartment on the thirteenth floor.
On a crisp, cold night in January, Rachel headed home after work, burdened down with bags of groceries and a purse that doubled as a weapon. It was one of those nights when the world was bathed in a beautiful silvery-blue by the moonlight. It fell upon everything and lit up each nook and cranny. Despite the load she carried the girl was enjoying her walk home, filling her lungs with the cool, clean air and carefully skirting over the sidewalk cracks. Lost in thought and staring at the lovely night sky, she didn't see a small form dart furtively from behind a trash can and fall in step behind her.
Rachel made quick headway toward home, hunger and mouth-watering thoughts of supper spurring her on. Less than half a block from her apartment building the city's lights suddenly flickered and died, leaving the street ahead in darkness. Were it not for the brightness of the moon the remainder of the trek home would have been difficult. The girl was grateful for the dim light, grateful too that it sufficiently lit up the sidewalk cracks.
Reaching the main doors into her building Rachel let out a startled cry when something smooth and furry darted between her legs. She was surprised to see a sleek black cat, scrawny and unfed, heading to the door. An attempt to shoo the animal way with the toe of her boot caused the creature to meow pitifully and Rachel became instantly ashamed. The poor thing had probably smelled the bologna in her bags and was hoping for a bite. She shifted her load to one hand and opened the door, not even bothering to stop the little cat when it ran through ahead of her. The girl had already decided to share a bit of her meat with the poor starving vagrant.
It wasn't until she stepped into the dark foyer that it dawned on Rachel that the elevators would be down. The thought of using those creepy stairs caused a wave of nausea to flow over her. There was no way she was going up that way. She sat down in one of the puke green chairs along the wall, determined to wait it out. Surely the power wouldn't be off very much longer. The little cat began to purr and rub adoringly against the girl's legs. Overcome with pity, Rachel reached into one of her parcels, pulled out a small piece of bologna and laid it on the tiled floor. With a tiny chirp of pleasure the cat tore into the meat, downing it in the blink of an eye.
An hour went by, two hours, and it became apparent to Rachel that her food would start to spoil if she didn't get it into her refrigerator soon. Warily, she glanced toward the door to the stairs. Summoning up all the courage within her, she got up and slowly, dreadfully, eased open the door. She couldn't see a thing. The stairs were swathed in black. No way she could ever go up there, especially not carrying a load of groceries. The girl turned back, deciding to wait it out all night if she had to, but before the stairwell door slammed shut Rachel felt horrified to see the skinny little cat dart through and go bounding up the musty stairs. Oh no! Now what could she do? She couldn't leave the poor animal up there. Not after all the stories she'd heard.
It was the last thing she wanted to do, but in Rachel's heart kindness outweighed her fear and taking a deep breath she started up the dark stairs. Every now and then a meow would sound out ahead of her, encouraging the frightened girl to continue upward. It seemed to take forever, but at last Rachel counted the twelfth flight of stairs and knew she would come out onto her floor. Knowing the cat couldn't possibly open the door into the hallway she fully expected to find the animal sitting on the landing in front of it, but it wasn't there. Could it have gone past her, on its way back down, without her hearing it?
Rachel headed back down the stairs but stopped dead in her tracks at the sounds coming out of the darkness in front of her. It sounded like thousands of little feet, swarming, scratching, running toward her. Before she even had a chance to move, the girl felt hundreds of furry little bodies writhing about her legs, over her feet and gnawing on her boots. Realizing what they were, Rachel belted out a scream. Rats! Dozens of them, maybe hundreds of them!
Grabbing onto the door Rachel ran back through the opening and into what should have been her hallway. It wasn't the hallway. In disbelief the girl saw that she was standing on the roof, perched precariously at its edge. She turned, not knowing which way to go, and, horror turning her heart to ice, saw the rats, shiny in the moonlight. Screaming, Rachel instinctively backed away. Backed away and - fell. As she plummeted through the dark the girl caught sight of the moon. Before her body hit the pavement below, she barely had time to register that the man in the moon seemed to be sneering. Sneering right at her.
*****************
Rachel's fellow tenants gathered sorrowfully around her broken, twisted body. The little cat curled up next to the girl's head, purring contentedly and licking her ear. There was no need to say it aloud. They all knew she, like the others before her, hadn't heeded their warnings and used the stairs.
Sirens pierced the night, coming rapidly closer and the small group of residents walked away, heading back to their cozy apartments.
Copyright © February 25, 2005 to Present,
by Charmaine V.
All Rights Reserved.
Still As A Statue
(second revision)
On the outskirts of town, in the deepest neck of the woods, is a small clearing where even the trees do not dare to grow and the unnatural silence is a deafening chorus. In the middle of this clearing sits a statue shrouded in green moss and tangled vines, so much so that it appears to be no more than an ancient decaying tree stump being reclaimed by the earth. Once every year, and always on All Hallows Eve, an unearthly glow can be seen emanating from this tiny patch of land. Always too, on the same night, it unerringly happens that some feckless soul looses his bearings and ends up, as though pulled by some strong, invisible thread, in the middle of this wretched place.
Such was the fate of young Jimmy Gray one cold and cloudy Hallowe'en, when on a dare he and two young friends decided to spend the night in an old cabin in the forest, a haunted cabin according to town legends.
Jimmy Gray, Nick Scanlan and Bobby Whitemore had been inseparable since the first grade. Like the notorious Three Musketeers, it was for them, all for one and one for all. They were a threesome all right, blood brothers they would tell you. In third grade they each cut a thin scratch into their arms and mixed the tiny beads of blood together, while swearing on their mutual baseball card collection to be brothers forever. It was for this reason that when Bobby was dared by his taunting older brother to spend a night in the spooky cabin, there was no question that the other two would accompany him.
On that crisp October night, with flashlights and a generous supply of junk food in tow, the boys made their way along the path to the cabin. While they walked, they joked nervously that the rats in that place were probably the size of pit bulls and equally as fierce.
The cabin sat in the woods, resembling nothing more than a gruesome, decaying animal in a tomb made of pine trees and thorny bushes. The boys grew silent, each gulping in unison as the building came into view. It was a formidable sight, but a dare is a dare and they plodded on toward it with the determination of youth. The front stoop had rotted and ferns, lush and green in the flashlight beams, grew tall where the stair treads once had been. No matter, it was only a short climb up to the doorway.
Jimmy and Bobby clasped their hands together. Using these makeshift steps Nick climbed up and grabbed the rusty doorknob. The knob came off in Nick's hand, sending flakes of rust spiralling like dirty snowflakes to the forest floor. In the same moment the decaying door fell inward imploding on impact to become nothing more than a mildewed pile of kindling.
With nary a thought about the safety of the long abandoned cabin the boys scrambled inside, Nick first, then Bobby and lastly Jimmy with a helping hand from the other two. A putrid odour assailed their nostrils and a quick sweep of the flashlights revealed the decomposing body of a fat raccoon, swarming with shiny, yellowish maggots. None of the boys wanted to appear weak, so, in an attempt at being macho they all blusteringly declared that the writhing mass was merely a "stupid dead animal".
Gingerly, the boys glanced around and spied an old sofa, stuffing protruding from numerous holes, at the other end of the structure. Seeming as good a place as any to wait out the night, the threesome sat warily upon it, causing the battered piece of furniture to groan in agony, and a disgruntled mouse to scurry from his home inside it. Despite the clouds of dust and the sagging springs the old couch was still rather comfortable. The Three Musketeers settled in.
Always the hungriest of the group, Bobby rummaged in his backpack and brought forth a selection of candy bars, to keep their energy up of course. The guys ate enough candy to keep any candy manufacturer in business. Sated by sugar and chocolate it wasn't long before Bobby and Nick fell asleep sitting up, mouths gaping open, snoring lightly.
Jimmy too, was just beginning to nod off into dreamland when he heard a mournful wail, coming from outside. Snapping instantly into wakefulness, he listened. Only a few seconds passed before the sound once again made its way through the opened doorway. What is that? thought Jimmy, Is it a hurt animal? For a few frustrating minutes he tried to wake his friends. He wanted them to go out there with him to investigate, but they were dead to the world and instead of waking up merely began to snore more loudly, drool puddling on their chins.
With a sense of urgency Jimmy rose from the dust ball of a couch and headed for the door. Something was in trouble, possibly badly hurt. He couldn't just sit there and ignore it. Thinking on it no further, the boy headed through the doorway, landing with a thud on the ground. Uncertain, he took a few steps forward, wondering which way to go. From somewhere in the forest the sorrowful wailing sounded again, louder this time, and Jimmy turned, walking on in its direction. What if somebody's dog is caught in a trap? he thought as he picked up his pace, I have to help it!
Jimmy trudged on into the forest, scarcely aware of the brush crackling beneath his feet, or the swift pain of sharp branches scraping skin from his cheeks. He was aware only of the constant keening. Aware only of his desperate need to help. The sound continued to get louder, now resonating inside his head. A voice rose within the wailing, then another and another, myriad voices all criss-crossing and swirling around each other in a maddening assault. A boy's voice, then a girl, now an old man - some a whisper, some a shout - all crying out the same frightening plea: Help me! HELP ME!
Panicked, Jimmy began to run, tears flowing and drying quickly on his scratched, bleeding face. So many people! They needed him. He had to hurry or it would be too late.
Suddenly the boy was surrounded by an eerie green light that appeared to rise like mist from the ground. He saw that he was in a clearing, saw too the terrible thing that stood in its centre. Jimmy wanted to run, run back to the cabin, back to his buddies. He wanted to go home, feel the warmth of the sheets in his own safe bed, but his feet were frozen; his legs refused to do what his brain told them. Before him stood a statue, the body of which was a sick parody of a small child's clay sculpture, rudimentary legs and arms on a shapeless body. The head - oh dear God, the head - was a constantly shifting reel of faces, all writhing, mouths agape; screaming in perpetual agony. Faces of lost men, women and children.
Vines that lay puddled at the statue's feet, rose, and in an undulating dance wrapped themselves around the boy as softly as a lover's caress. Slowly, tenderly, the vines pulled Jimmy forward. The boy's mouth worked to form words. No! No! His lips moved, but his voice was silent. Paralysed, wrapped like a living mummy in tendrils and leaves, he felt himself being pressed against the cold, monstrous sculpture. The glowing mist became a blinding light, in a brief lightening-like flash, and for one terrible moment Jimmy Gray's face appeared in the grotesque head. Then the third Musketeer was gone.
****************
A brilliant beam of sunlight made its way through the cabin doorway, splashing on the faces of Nick Scanlan and Bobby Whitemore as they simultaneously awoke from their deep, dreamless sleep.
"Man, I can't believe I slept through the whole thing!", Bobby complained as he stretched into an upright position.
"Me neither, man. What a bummer! Hey! Where's Jimmy?" Nick walked stiffly to the door. "Jimmy! You out there man?" No answer. "Sheesh! I guess Jimmy turned chicken on us and went home."
"Yeah, and I'll bet he spent the whole night in his own cozy bed. Bock! B-b-bock! Whatever happened to 'all for one and one for all'?"
Laughing, the boys headed home, blissfully unaware that the Three Musketeers had been downsized overnight to an even number.
The End
Copyright October 23, 2004,
by Charmaine V.
All Rights Reserved.
