(Wake Up) Little Suzy

(Wake Up) Little Suzy

By Stephen Abell

Number of words: 3347


Little Suzy was all alone.

She had awoken to find herself on a dirt path in a dense group of trees. Their foliage kept most of the suns light and heat away from her. The lack of light also accounted for the sparsity of the grass and lack of flowers. She stood and cuddled herself in this gloomy place as the cold stole through her summer clothes. Where am I? She thought, and where is Dad? Turning around slowly she surveyed her surroundings, the rays of light cast a strobe effect on her face. Dad had gotten her up this morning and breakfast was waiting on the table. He had made her favourite, scrambled eggs on toast with a glass of orange juice to wash it down. “Where's Mum?” She could remember asking. “She usually makes breakfast.”

“She's not feeling too well, love. I told her to stay in bed and I'd sort you out this morning.” Her Dad had smiled his big toothy grin at her. “Everything's as you like it, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it's good. Thanks Dad.” She smiled back happy to have this time with him. “Urgh!” She spurted, after swallowing a mouth full of the orange. “This tastes horrible.”

“I only poured it out of the carton. Sorry, it must have gone off.” There had been a quick look of sorrow in his eyes. “Just tip it down the sink, then run and get your coat, we're off out.”

“It's a school day, it's not the weekend, you haven't forgotten have you?”

“No, I just thought that we'd do something together, for a change. I mean, I never get to see you, that much, what with work taking up so much of my time. It feels like I'm missing out on something, so I thought we'd have a little adventure. So. Go. Grab. Your. Coat.”

Pulling out of the drive Suzy looked back at the house. It looked empty and cold.

Classical music flowed out of the cars speakers and the last thing she could remember was her eyes feeling heavy, then ....

She was alone in the wood on the path.

Looking down she noticed an arrow made out of three twigs pointing down the path, beckoning her to follow. Looking behind her all she could see was the same walk running into the dark foreboding shadows of the wood. No arrow pointed in that direction.

Her mind reeled; what should I do? Should I stay and wait for Dad? Is he playing some sort of trick on me? Did he put the arrow on the floor for me to follow? Round and round the questions went in her dizzying mind.

Crack. Suzy caught her breath and held it. Somewhere in the shadows to her right a twig broke. Or had been broken, her mind added. She was scanning the wood to see if any of the shadows moved. The darkness was thick and oppressive. It could have been a large wood, for all she knew, but she could not tell, the darkness swallowed the trees up only after three rows.

Crack. The noise came from behind her in the other bank of trees. She spun round but again could see nothing in the dark.

Crack. This was in stereo. The twin sounds had come from both sides.

This wasn't right. Something was wrong here. Run. Her mind screamed at her.

She took off down the path following the direction the arrow was pointed. From behind her she thought that she heard someone laugh.

The stitch in her side set in after five minutes of all out sprinting and brought her to a halt a few seconds later, panting for breath.

“What's going on?” She asked the empty air around her. “DAD!” She shouted. “DAD!”

No reply.

With a heavy thump she sat on the damp path and started to sob. A tear ran down her cheek and was joined by another, then another. Until they were flowing like a waterfall. She breathed in to stifle the sobs. Her hands started checking her pockets for a handkerchief. Instead she found something hard and cold in one of her coat pockets. Pulling out the object she brought it up to her blurry eyes for inspection. It was a key. One that she had not seen before. Her Mum and Dad never let her have a key to the house, but she had seen theirs and this wasn't at all like them. Theirs were short thin keys, this had a long barrel that ended in a sideways H shape. She blotted her tears away with her coat sleeve then dragged it under her running nose, leaving a slug trail behind.

All paths lead somewhere, her mind called to her. They start at one place and finish at another. Maybe the one that we're on runs back to the car park and Dad.

She pushed herself off the floor and dusted herself down, placed the key back where she had found it and then started down the path with new vigor.

Whispering, could she hear whispering? No. It was more like the sound of raised voices coming from another room, through the walls, through the floors: It was coming from the darkness that surrounded her. The bass and the echo made it impossible to tell what was being said. A memory of nights laid in her bed listening to her parents argue downstairs, it was just like that. Had they been shouting last night? Her memory could not give her the answer, she thought they had. In the periphery of her vision shadows danced and twisted in the tree-line. Every time she turned to look all she could see was three trees in and the complete darkness. Her ears and fingertips were alive with the beating of her heart. No kids have died of heart attacks, have they? She asked herself with no reply.

She brought herself to a halt. Up ahead was the outline of a house. Where there's a house, there could be people, her mind quickly informed her. Just as quickly she was sprinting. The stitch flared up at once but she pushed herself onwards towards the refuge. The noise from the trees was nearly deafening and it increased with her closeness to the house. Was there something out there in the wood that did not want her to get to the house? Pain seared through her body as she came to the front door of the house. She did not have time to knock, the sounds were on the verge of blowing her eardrums, she grabbed the handle, twisted and pushed. Locked.

“NO!” The scream was lost in the cacophony around her.

There was something, wasn't there? What was it? What was it? She focused and tried to remember. Her mind screamed, THE KEY.

Quickly she pulled the key out of her pocket and rammed it into the lock, turned it completely round, grabbed the handle, twisted and pushed.

She fell into the hallway. Spinning around she slammed the door shut.

It was too late. She was deaf. There was absolute silence.

Suddenly she breathed in realising that she had been holding her breath. The intake and following exhale were sweet music to her ears and she let out a small laugh of relief.

Nobody's here, she told herself. Listen. If there was anyone around you'd hear something.

“Hello! Hello, anyone there?” She called out vainly.

“Where the hell am I and where is Dad?” Exasperation was telling in her voice. Down at the far end of the hallway, past the stairs on the right, was a door, this was open and looked into the kitchen. Her stomach let out a low groan. “Great timing.” She sighed and patted her belly. As she closed in on the kitchen she noticed a door to the left, this too was open. The room beyond was a living room. It looked to have been decorated around the fifties. There was a big leather settee and two leather armchairs. A fire blazed in the hearth. It was a welcoming room, feeling tired, weak and cold she strode into the room and collapsed exhaustedly onto the settee, in front of the fire, forgetting all about her hunger. As the heat banished the cold from her bones her eyes drank in her new surroundings. There was no television. Where she would have placed one, in the alcove to the left of the fire, was a radio. A large wooden thing with big round, brown, knobs. She had seen pictures of radios similar to this one on the internet for her history studies. There were net curtains hung at the window, they were made of fine lace flowers. They kept any one from looking in as well as from looking out. The curtains that pulled shut were made from a deep red velvet like material, they looked thick enough to stop any cold getting in. Behind the sofa were two book cases filled with paperbacks. Assorted thrillers and mysteries mainly. On the bottom shelf were a few large hardbacks, a set of encyclopedias, a dictionary and a bible. On the third wall was a door, this she reckoned, led into a dining room or back into the kitchen, it was closed. In the alcove to the right of the fire was a reading lamp and on the arm of the leather chair was a book.

The hunger was back, her stomach let out a huge gurgle. “Ok, OK!” She coaxed her belly as she stood up and walked to the closed door. “This probably leads to the kitchen anyway.”

It led into a dining room. In the middle of the room, under the light, was an oblong table with six chairs around it. There was a place set for one, and in the middle of the table was a large silver plater with a silver cover. All over the walls were photographs, mostly black and white but some were very old and sepia toned. They were all portraits. Suzy walked around the room gazing at the faces on the wall. She came across three people that she knew. Her Dad as a kid, and his Mum and Dad. She had never seen her grandparents, they had died in a car crash before she had been born but her Dad had kept some photos, they were in his study. In fact the photograph that she was studying now was one of them. Her Dad looked to be around fifteen, her age, when it had been taken, it had been their last holiday before the accident. She smiled a bitter smile and thought how sad Dad must have been to lose his parents.

Like you've lost yours?

Had that been her mind? She was not sure. It had sounded like a real voice, but how could it be when there was nobody here?

More gurgles from her stomach turned her attention to the table. “Time to do my Goldilocks impression.” She laughed as she pulled the chair out from the table and sat down in front of the setting. She smiled at the distorted reflection of herself in the silver lid as her hand closed around the handle.

“Ta-Da.” She joyfully shouted as she yanked up.

The blood jutted everywhere. Her playful cry turned into a scream of fear as the sticky red ooze splttered her face. It sprayed onto the walls, a few jets even hit the ceiling and the light above, but most spread over the white tablecloth and started to drip onto the floor and into her lap. The chair fell to the floor as she sprang upward, trying to clean the blood form her eyes with the snotty arm of her coat. After a few seconds she could see clearly again and wished she could not.

Upon the silver plater were placed two heads. She knew who they were, instantly, even though their eyes had been plucked out, their lips cut off, and their tongues cut and placed like a tie in front of them. They were her long dead grandparents. Though they did not look that long dead to her. She screamed and pushed through the door into the kitchen.

The little she had seen from the hallway had been spotless, this end though was drenched in blood. It was everywhere, on the counter top, the cupboards, the floor, the window, everywhere she looked. A smell of iron clung to the air and as she breathed it in her stomach growled with hunger. A noise came from the other side of the kitchen. It was a knocking sound and it was coming from behind the pantry door.

All her common sense had fled and left her alone without caution. She moved slowly over to the pantry and grasped the handle in her hand, struggling to turn it as blood dripped to the floor. The door opened easily. The pantry was empty, except for the pile of meat on the cold shelf at the rear. She sighed relief and then realised that the meat was all that was left of her grandparents. Hands and feet were visible in the pile of bloodless flesh, on top of the pile were two sets of eyes, staring sightlessly at her.

The hand grabbed her ankle. She screamed and jumped back. It did not let go. Looking down to see who had caught her she only saw an arm, severed just below the elbow. The hand of which gripped tightly to her ankle. It was so tight that she had to bend three of the fingers so far back that they broke. The sound was just like the cracking noises in the wood. Beaten the hand fell away and started slapping the vinyl floor.

Suzy had to get out of this mad house. She spun around looking for a back door but there was none. Running into the hallway she was not surprised to see that the front door had also vanished. The doors to the kitchen and front room slammed shut, Suzy nearly jumped out of her skin. The only direction left to her now was up the stairs. “Alright then,” a new determination had entered her voice, “lets get this over with.” She took the stairs two at a time.

At the top of the stairs was the bathroom, on the left wall two doors opened onto large bedrooms and behind her was the door that led into a box room, just big enough to get a single bed in.

She strode purposefully into the bathroom: Nothing. It was as empty and as clean as her Mum kept theirs.

Next was the first of the two bedrooms. As she opened the door she knew that it had been the dead grandparents room, the scent of blood was here also. Their bloody clothes were laid out on the bed. She closed the door quietly behind her.

As she neared the door to the next bedroom she could make out a radio playing. She chose the box room.

The stench was disgusting, her eyes started to water as soon as the door was opened. There were bodies of cats, small dogs, and a few birds. A clothesline had been hung from one side of the room to the other and like a set a perverse clothes bits of skin had been hung to dry. She could not stop her stomach from ejecting what little it had into this abode of sickness.

Closing the door behind her she turned and faced the last bedroom, she knew all to well what she'd find behind it. She had asked where her Dad was since she had awoken, well now she knew. She pushed open the door.

Inside the room was dim, as if the curtains were closed to keep the light out. The radio in the room played an old rock and roll song, one that she could not quite remember, but it had something to do with her. Then she caught sight of him. He was dancing. It was not until he turned around that she noticed he was naked, his penis bounced in the air. He had not seen her, he was to entranced with his own reflection in the mirror. Iron assailed her nostrils, it did not surprise her or sicken her this time, she expected it. Her father bent forward and picked something up. It was a bloody cloth and he ran it over his body. She could see the effect that it was having on him, he was getting turned on. Then a strange thing happened. As he twirled around in the room his reflection did not. The mirror image turned his head towards her and raised its arm, pointing to her. “KILL HER!” The voice that spoke was not her Dad's. It sounded like a thousand voices speaking at once. The effect that it had on her dad was instantaneous. He did not stop he just turned and came straight at her, picking up a broken chair leg as he came. She turned and fled. From the mirror she could hear the choral chant of “KILL HER!”

As she reached the bottom step she saw the front door had not reappeared so decided to try the living room, she might find something with which to defend herself. Her father started down the stairs.

She burst into the room and ran to the reading lamp and grabbed it. It would not budge. She could hear her Dad reach the bottom stair. The living room door closed on him. He slammed at the wood with the chair leg, but it held. Upstairs the voices were getting louder “KILL HER!” The reading light flickered on, she jumped then looked down at the book on the chair arm. It was titled “Psycho.” “No shit Sherlock.” She gasped as she turned toward the dining room. “I could have guessed that.”

The faces in the photographs started speaking, as if with one voice. “Don't trust him.” They repeated. “Don't listen to him.” They chanted. “He's the King of lies.” They all echoed.

The door from the kitchen burst open. Her father brought down the chair leg on her skull with a sickening thud.

Thud.

She fell out of bed.

“Hey, Suzy that you?” Her father called from downstairs. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah Dad,” she replied, “I just had a nasty dream that's all, and fell out of bed.”

“Well you go and get washed up and come straight down, I've got a surprise for you. I'm taking the day off and pulling you out of school. I thought we could go somewhere, have a little adventure by ourselves.”

A cold dread ran through every nerve. “What about Mum? Is she coming too?”

“No honey, she's a little under the weather today. Don't you go bothering her, just get washed and come down stairs, I've made scrambled eggs on toast for you.”

“Ok, Dad, I won't be long.”

She walked out of her bedroom and to her parents bedroom door. The smell of iron was thick in the air. With a shaky hand Suzy pushed open the door. The blood was everywhere and what was left of her mother was lying prone on the bed. Her head caved in. There was a blood stained baseball bat on the floor by the side of the bed. Silent tears ran down her face as she remembered the three cracking sounds from the wood. Had that been her Dad having his fun with her Mum? In the corner of the room stood the mirror from her Dad's dream bedroom. She quietly picked up the bat and strode over to the mirror. She put all her fear and sadness into the swing, it smashed into a thousand pieces.

“Did you break my mirror, Suzy? Oh, well no matter, it was only a family heirloom, you know. Anyway I don't need it any more.” A thousand voices called to her. “Come on down and lets have that adventure.”