Moving places was a difficult business. You always felt you have left something behind, perhaps it was the memories.
“Dust. So much dust.”, thought Bernadette as she stared at the massive book lined shelf.
“The previous owners must have really liked to read.”, she muttered as dusted them down. Coughing from the work she backed away to glare at the books, her eyes watering as she sneezed.
Bernadette Cordero, the freelancing chocolatier, had gotten this house fully furnished, quite cheap. The neighbourhood was also perfect. Quiet, crime free and best of all cheap. The houses were far apart that she didn’t run into someone or the other, wanting small talk but close enough that she felt safe.
The house itself was a two-story thing. It had everything a house was supposed to have, living room, bedrooms, and such. It was slightly creaky and seemed to be leaning slightly towards the left, as though it wanted to merge with the nearby house, but for Bernadette, it was perfect.
She did not mind the attic that always looked dusty no matter how much she cleaned it, nor the outdoor cellar with its thrice looped iron chains and padlock, or even the fact that the previous owners had all mysteriously upped and left in the middle of the night. No, for Bernadette, it was perfect.
Tired from all the dusting, she made her way down the creaky stairs. As she reached the final step, she heard a knock on the door.
“Ah, must be the kids!”, she thought happily as she went to open the door.
“Bernie! Bernie! Bernie! Did you bake the new ones?!”, cried the kids as they stood outside excited.
“Calm down. Yes, I did! They are cooling on the racks so you must wait for a while. But you can have some snacks. Come on in.”, she invited.
Excited, they made their way towards the kitchen. Brian, Nicole, Jane, and Ella were the neighbourhood kids who loved coming over to try her newest chocolates before she sold them to her clients. They were very polite, so Bernie had no problem having them over now and then.
Once, the kids had left. Bernie cleaned up the kitchen and made her way to the shelf. She wasn’t an avid reader of books. But there was not much to do tonight. She had already packed away the chocolates. She only needed to deliver them tomorrow.
The previous owners had left behind everything, including the books. There was quite a collection to choose from.
“They must have really loved horror.”, thought Bernie as she ran her fingers over the spine of the books.
“Little Red Riding Hood, The Shining, Birdbox. Wow.”
“Let’s go with a classic.”, she thought and picked up Little Red Riding Hood.
Picking up a cup of tea, she made her way to the living room and sat on the couch. She began to read:
“Goodness, what big eyes you have.”
“The better to see you with.”
“And what big hands you have!” exclaimed Little Red Riding Hood, stepping over to the bed.
“The better to hug you with,” said the wolf.
“What a big mouth you have,” the little girl murmured in a weak voice.
“The better to eat you with!” growled the wolf, and jumping out of bed, he swallowed her up too. Then, with a fat full tummy, he fell fast asleep.
Laughing, Bernie put away the book. Picking up her teacup she made her way to the kitchen. THUMP, she heard a noise near the couch. The book had fallen. She made her way over to pick it up. It had fallen open to the last page. There was something scratched in at the very end. Almost as though someone was running out of time.
It can come in only when invited.
“Must be some kind of a joke”, chuckled Bernie. Still, she took extra care while locking up before bed.
Crawling into her bed she cocooned into her blankets and fell asleep into restless dreams of scratches and big teeth.
It was late afternoon when she woke up. She took care of her packaged chocolates and sent them off to their destinations. As she was cleaning up her eyes were drawn towards the bookshelf again. As she reached for another book, she was startled by a knock. She went to open the door.
“Hi Bernie!”, cried out Ella.
“Hey Ella. How are you? Here for some chocolates?”, asked Bernie.
“Yes please, May I come in?”, asked Ella, politely.
“Yes, where are the others?” “Oh, they are out playing. They’ll come over later.”, Ella replied.
“Alright.”
Bernie talked with Ella for a while and sent her off with some chocolates for her friends. She cleaned up for the day and kept the rest of the chocolates on the cooling rack and boiled some tea for herself. Her eyes were drawn to the bookshelf. She picked out another book, The Shining. She sat down to read:
“Wendy? Darling? Light, of my life. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m just going to bash your brains in.”
Thoroughly disturbed as to why someone one would enjoy this sort of literature, Bernie decided to return the book back to the shelf. But, before she could do so, she decided to look at the last page of the book. And there it was, again scratched into the page, urgently:
Do NOT feed it.
Now, completely panicked, Bernie started to pull out all the books from the shelf one by one and looked at the last pages. And scratched into each one was a separate sentence:
Do NOT speak to it.
It is always listening.
It watches you.
It won’t leave.
Now gasping, Bernie sat back on her heels trying to understand what was happening? Was this some elaborate prank? Desperate, she went through the books again. There seemed almost an urgency with which the scratches were made onto the pages. As though the person wanted her to know the rules of this game. The very last of those being cut almost jaggedly all the way down. Finally, she saw one more book wedged at the very corner of the shelf. To hide it, it seemed. There was only one page used within. It was written:
The attic.
Determined to end this game, Bernadette made her way to the attic. It was dusty, dirty, and dark. She felt eyes on her, watching. Even the stairs creaked more. It was as though the house knew she was trying to uncover its secrets.
She pulled on the flimsy string hanging from the bulb. The attic was illuminated in a dull glow. She looked around trying to understand what she was supposed to look for. That’s when she heard it. A knock on the window.
Bernadette froze. A cold shiver rolled over her body, as she realised….
“There are no windows in the attic.”
The knock was coming from the dirty mirror that hung in the corner. From inside the mirror. She couldn’t even hear the knock anymore; her heart was beating so loud. She couldn’t even scream, her mouth felt as though it was filled with sawdust.
“Who… what… are you?”, asked Bernie her voice stuttering.
The macabre face in the mirror just grinned, its lips far too wide, its teeth far too sharp. It thrust out a grizzled hand through the mirror, a key held in it.
“A key?”, asked Bernie, staring dumbly at it. The face had already disappeared.
“What is happening?”, Bernie asked to herself as she made her way down.
“What is the key for?”
As she puzzled over this, the doorbell rang.
“Who could it be at this time? It’s too late for the kids. Must be their parents?”, Bernie muttered to herself.
She opened the door. There was no one. Stepping out. She looked around puzzled. She shivered in the cold night air. She felt watched again. Turning back, she looked at the house. It seemed to be leaning towards her now. As though watching her.
“Could the key be for the cellar?”, she thought.
She nervously looked around and walked towards the cellar door. She gingerly placed the key into the lock. It was a perfect fit. With a loud CRANK the chains fell apart. Now. The eyes on her felt heavier, smothering even. Gingerly she pulled on the doors. They opened.
“I should have asked to meet the parents.”, Bernie thought weakly as she stared at the corpses.
Turning around she saw the children staring at her. Their smiles too wide and teeth too sharp.
“What a big mouth you have,” the little girl murmured in a weak voice.
“There are no neighbours are there?”, Bernie asked quietly.
The children shook their heads, grinning.
“The previous owners, didn’t just leave, did they?”, Bernie asked quietly.
The children shook their heads, grinning.
“Bernie, we are hungry!”, Ella cried running over to her.
“Will chocolates do?”, asked Bernie.
“Yes, please!”, they all cried together. So polite.
“Bernie. May we come in?”, They asked, their voices droning like thousands of bees.
Bernadette looked at the cellar. She looked at them. Their smiles too wide and teeth too sharp.
“Yes. Please, come in.”
The house was cheap after all.
