April 2014 Short Story of the Month

A COLD WHISPER

The air was a nice, crisp cool, and the leaves were just starting to turn, a teaser that the beauty of autumn would soon be on its way. Buster sniffed along the ground, unable to see the colors, but even an animal could feel the oncoming cold. The dog did not seem to mind. In fact, after such a hot summer, it found it a welcome relief. Buster had caught another scent, though, and found that far more unwelcome.
Something strange. Something new. It didn’t welcome it, it didn’t like it. It wanted it gone. Away from its territory.  Determined, the dog made its way through the forest, barely even breaking to pant.
It moved further, passing over a stream that (in its determination) it barely even noticed. The sky was visible, partially, through the trees up ahead. Orange that, again, it could not see. It felt the orange in the sky, though. Enough to figure that sunset was on its way.
The dog kept its focus straight ahead, moving swiftly through the forest. Barely even panting. It neared the edge of the trees and came to a stop at a clearing.
And in that clearing, a house. A beautiful, large house. Victorian by design, and with its arches and size, it made for an imposing presence. The house was dark. All gray, but the windows were black. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then this house was in every way soulless.
The dog stopped at the edge of the woods, and not one step further. It whimpered. Hesitantly, it put out a paw, then retracted it. It refused to step onto the lawn, not even going so far as the yard of the house. Instead, it did its best to give a low, intimidating growl. Then, when that did not make it go away, it barked.
Buster continued barking, each one successively louder than the last.
***
Virginia Graham rolled her eyes, sitting in front of her new mirror. Her dark brown hair and white skin almost gave her the appearance of a porcelain doll, hence her grandmother’s irritating nickname “Dolly.” But Virginia didn’t want anything to do with dolls. In fact, she thought of herself (or tried to think of herself) as a grown woman, even though she was no more than ten.
The barking did not cease, and interrupted her conversation. She had tried to ignore it, but now she just couldn’t. “Shut up!” Virginia shouted, looking out the window. Immediately, she caught herself and turned back to the mirror.
“No,” she said quickly, “not you.” She looked at the mirror, almost ashamed. Like she had said something she shouldn’t have, or she had misspoke. “No, go on. I’m sorry. I was just talking about the dog.”
The old mirror could easily have been part of this house for over a century. Her mother had explained it to her once, but Virginia couldn’t remember. It was slightly fogged over, even though there wasn’t even a hint of mist in the room. The paint on the edges was peeling away, but the glass itself—in all its years—had not suffered even a single crack.
Virginia sat back down across from it. “Oh, no,” Virginia continued, “it’s not mine. It belongs to the neighbors, I think. Mom would never let me have a dog. She’ll, well, she’ll barely let me have a friend.”
A pause, listening. She laughed a little.
“Yes, silly, of course we’re friends,” she said.
Her hand reached out to press against the glass.
“We’ll always be friends,” she said, as if comforting it, “you know that.”
Virginia paused, her hand retreated. A confused look washed over her face. Feeling a chill, her eyes darted to the thermostat. It had slowly begun to churn back. From 70 to 60.
To 50.
To 40.
“What?” she asked it, “speak up. I can’t hear you.”
Virginia curled up, rubbing her arms, feeling the sudden drop of temperature. It had happened before, but it made her uncomfortable. She could see her breath.
There was a noise around her, almost like wind. Wind or a long, soft breath. The curtains closed, obstructing her view of the window. But they didn’t slam, like she half-expected them to. Instead, they closed gently, tenderly. As if closed by friendly, warm hands. But it was too cold for anything here to be warm.
Except for him, of course. And she knew he did it.
He loved to show off. But something felt different about this.
The door slammed shut. The lights flickered.
He’d never done that before. Virginia opened her mouth to question him, but before she could, the room went dark. Even though it was broad daylight, the room went pitch black. She couldn’t see a thing. Virginia stiffened, feeling something approach. It felt like a burst of sharp cold air, despite the coolness the room had already taken on. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
Another wind-like sound came, but the whisper was more audible this time. She knew her mother wouldn’t hear it. Neither would her friends, what few she had. But to her, it spoke plain as day. It said, “I love you.”
Virginia’s face flushed red and she smiled.
Her eyes darted back to the mirror, which was still gleaming as though there were some sort of light left in the room. Truthfully, it looked more frozen over than anything. After a moment, so slowly she thought at first it was a trick of her eyes, a handprint began to form. Virginia knew it wasn’t anything she had left.
It was something pressing on the glass.
From the other side.
“How do you do that?” Virginia asked, impressed.
The room was silent, there was no answer. Except to her. She could hear it. “Of course I want to see you,” she said, “but I don’t know how.”
She listened, and the silence explained.
“Okay. Okay. Yes,” she felt almost embarrassed by his next words, “yeah, sure I want to be with you, I guess. Just tell me what to do.”
Again, she listened.
***
Virginia’s mother, Lenore, watched the dog through the kitchen window. It whimpered, circled, then sat for a moment before laying on the grass. Damned thing, she thought, but it didn’t bother her too much. She didn’t pay it much attention and turned back to setting the table. “Virginia,” she shouted loud enough so that her daughter was sure to hear, “breakfast is ready!”
She waited a moment. No answer came from upstairs.
***
Virginia stepped into the bathroom. She was away from the mirror, so she couldn’t hear him now, but if she did as he directed, she knew that she would. In fact, he said she’d be able to see him. After all this waiting. Virginia could barely contain her excitement.
She ran a bath, holding her hand under the stream of running water. It was warming up. Slowly, but surely.
***
Lenore paused, still hearing for an answer. But there was only silence. God, I’ve had it up to here with that girl, she thought, what has gotten into her now? She moved to the stairs, still listening intently, but she didn’t hear anything. “Virginia?”
Again, she received no answer.
***
Virginia nodded at the bathroom mirror, then stepped into the tub. The water was beginning to overflow.
***
Lenore stood at the base of the stairs, cautiously beginning to ascend. “Virginia, are you up here? You know not to disobey your mother. Where are you?”
She reached the top of the stairs, looking down the long second-floor hallway. The pictures seemed to be looking at her. But that was, of course, lunacy. Her daughter was either in a great deal of trouble or, well, she was in a great deal of trouble. The same words, of course, but they meant entirely different things.
“Virginia, baby?”
She caught the sound of something… something like a faucet running. What on earth was that girl up to? Moving slowly, Lenore approached the bathroom door. Something felt, well, something felt very wrong. She couldn’t explain it. Taking another step forward, she wasn’t sure she really wanted an explanation. Another step.
Her foot was wet.
Lenore looked down.  She saw bathwater spilling out from under the doorway. Her eyes narrowed, frustrated by Virginia’s most recent antics. That girl will be the death of me. There was something else too…
She kneeled down to get a better look at the bathwater.
And inside it, she saw a hint of red.
Lenore stood to her feet, confused. Her whole body went numb. As though acting on auto-pilot, she turned the doorknob. Something was… different. Her eyes felt blurry, only comprehending a fraction of what she saw.
The bathroom door opened.
Lenore stepped inside. Her face went white. There. She had found her daughter, now that was done.
Virginia was lying in the water. Barely awake, if at all. A razor clamped in one of her small hands. The other was outstretched and hanging over the side of the tub. Dripping with red. Bleeding.
Oh Jesus Christ she slit her wrist, something spoke up inside of Lenore and snapped her back to the situation. She rushed to her daughter’s aid, grabbing her up and draining the tub. Lenore pulled the girl out of the water, both of them soaking with blood.
Virginia’s eyes fluttered open, as if waking from a long dream.
Lenore kneeled over her. Over her mother’s shoulders, for only a moment, Virginia saw a boy.
His skin was cold, dark gray. Hair matted and brown. His eyes were like shining reflective lights, the way eyes looked under a picture taken at night, only without the tint of green. Two shining beads of light.
Virginia, through quivering lips, mouthed, “I see you.”
For reasons beyond her understanding, it was very hard to speak.
Lenore didn’t notice it. She pulled her daughter out of the tub and wrapped her in a tile. “You’ll be alright,” her mother kept repeating, “oh, God in Heaven… you’ll be alright.”
Stay with me.
It was his voice. She could hear it as if he was speaking right next to her now, but it was getting fainter. Feeling was returning in her arms, and so was pain. He hadn’t told her there would be much pain.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Lenore panted. “You’ll be alright.”
Virginia felt herself passing out. Her final thoughts before the sleep took her; so close. I came so close. But she was drifting out, and so was the boy. His pleas were diminished. She could barely hear him now. I’m sorry, she thought.
I love you too.