Imaginary Friends - Yolanda Jackson

Chapter One

Everyone had or has imaginary friends; what do yours tell you to do? Well, I’ll tell you about my friends. Back in the 1980's, I was living the worthless life of an abused child, one that society doesn’t care about. I was what they called poor white trash; my father was nowhere around and my mother was a whore and drug addict. Every night she would bring different men into the house, hoping to score enough money for a hit, and most of the time she would sell me to them. I was raped, beaten and molested, but she didn’t care; my innocence was making her rich. Instead of the men asking for her, they’d asked for me. Yes, I tried to fight back, but the men were too strong for me. I called out for my mother, but she ignored my pleas; she sat in the room and smoked her cocaine as the men had their way with me. She never came to check on me; she didn’t know if I was alive or dead before she set up another john. I begged her not to sell me anymore, but she didn’t care, that cocaine was more important to her than I was.

While the men were having their way with me; I began to blackout and go into a world that I called my own. I had to step out of reality in order to keep the little bit of life I had left in me. When my mother saw that selling me was a great idea, the best thing that had ever happened to her, she continued to do it more and more. I tried to run away, but was always caught. My mother began to lock me in the old cellar; it was damp and creepy, there was no light, no windows and every day was the same as night. I was afraid, I began to scream; the dark frightened me so terribly that I would wet my pants. No matter how often I wanted to stop from going to the bathroom on myself, I couldn’t. The fear was so deep; I could feel it in my bones. I begged my mother that I would do whatever she wanted, that I would be a good girl, but she never answered me; she left me in the basement for days, weeks, months.

The men would come down with a kerosene lamp and do their business with me. I got so sick of the abuse and the rapes that I began to talk to myself. I was trying to convince myself that it would be okay, that one day my mother would love me and make everything all right, but that day never came. I waited patiently; I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle, and yet the miracle never came, it was always ‘in the works’.

I sat in the corner of the dark, damp cold cellar, crying my eyes out, wanting to be set free, wanting to be back upstairs with my mother. I was so afraid that I began to make up imaginary friends, a group of people that would love and protect me, a group of friends that would never let anything happen to me. As I sat there, the first friend I created was Johnny. He was a white guy with really blonde hair; dressed like a cowboy and always toted a gun in each of his holsters. Johnny was a cool cat that always told jokes, very sarcastic ones, and smoked the hell out of some cigarettes; he loved Marlboros. Even though it was dark, I could still see the creation of my friend in my mind, and I would stare into his blue eyes, like a damsel in distress, and hope that Johnny would save me.

Then my little fantasy would be over, and I’d come back to reality. But, when the memories of the rapes and abuse got to be too much for me to handle, I’d make Johnny appear in my mind to help me, and then he’d disappear. Until one day, or night, I never could tell because I was locked in the fucking cold dark cellar, sitting there fully awake, I began to smell cigarette smoke! At first I thought I was still in my fantasy world, but I wasn’t; I remembered waking myself from my fantasy. Then I got scared; could Johnny really be alive? Could I have the power to raise my thoughts from the dead? Could my fantasy come to life?

Well, it did! While sitting in the corner, I could feel the soft clouds of smoke grace my face, and from a distance I could see a red light in the background. I was afraid and began to move around in the dark, trying to make my imaginary friend go away. I covered my eyes with my hands; when suddenly I felt a soft touch pull my hair. I was so afraid to turn around; I kept my eyes closed and counted to ten, hoping that whatever I had created would go away. But it didn’t; it came closer and closer, until I was forced to open my eyes.

I screamed as I saw this figment of my imagination come to life. I screamed and screamed, but no one could hear me; there was a party going on upstairs and the music was too loud. I screamed so much that I lost my voice, and Johnny just stood in the corner, smoking his cigarettes, laughing at me.

"Dude, chill out," he said.

But, I was in a state of shock; I had just been fucking scared shitless because my imagination had come to life, and this shit was scary. It took hours for me to calm down, but when I did, Johnny was still standing in the corner, only this time he was playing with his gun, twirling and spinning it around his fingers like a toy. He glowed in the dark and I got a better look at his face; he was perfect, just like I had created him, but his blue eyes glowed a faint red and that was disturbing. Nevertheless, I was happy to know that I had a friend to be with me and chase out the bad guys. Johnny pulled out a deck of old cards, I could tell that they had been used before, from the wear on the back of the cards, and in the light of his glow, we played go fish and memory match.

Johnny always let me win; he was the perfect man, he was the father I could only dream of having. He was also a great storyteller; he told me of back in the old days how he used to rob banks and could outrun the sheriff of the town, and of days spent sleeping on the open range and getting run off the land by the owners. These stories, to me, were very comforting and relaxing. For the first time in months, I was able to fall off asleep without a care in the world; for the first time I was not afraid to sleep alone, the cellar never frightened me anymore. Johnny was here to save me and protect me from all the evil men that had hurt me.

I could see him pacing the floor at night, he was talking with someone, but I couldn’t see who that was. I didn’t care, I was happy to have peace of mind and my own bodyguard, but I was concerned that Johnny was talking to someone or something, and whatever it was, it was a heated conversation. All I could see were Johnny’s lips moving and he kept looking back over his shoulder at me. I overlooked his mischievous ways and began to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time I could close my eyes without the fear of finding a strange man on top of me. With Johnny there, I was completely safe, nothing could hurt me ever again. Johnny was my hero, he was always there, but seemed occupied, as if something else required his attention. But, I didn’t mind, as long as I got peace and quiet.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming down the cellar stairs. A voice shouted out, "You little bitch, where are you? Come and play with daddy."

I quickly ran behind Johnny to protect me and he didn’t let me down.

Out of the darkness, Johnny approached the john and said, "Now, that's no way to treat a young lady."

For a minute, I didn’t think that the two would be able to see each other; after all, Johnny was just my imagination. But, something strange happened, they could both see each other, and the john became very afraid.

"Who the hell are you? I paid for her first," shouted the john at Johnny.

"Well, I’m her new best friend; and your worst nightmare," said Johnny.

The john pushed Johnny out of the way and headed toward me, groping my chest and private parts. Out of the blue, Johnny began to shoot his gun at the john over and over again; it seemed like Johnny was never going to stop. Finally, I went over and prevented him from putting another bullet in the john. At first, I was a little terrified, but it served that john right; I was young enough to be his daughter and he was paying my mother to sell me to him. From the glow off of Johnny, I could see the blood splatters all over the cellar walls, I could see the guy’s head full of bullet holes and his eyes rolled back and facing the heavens.

For once in my life, I felt so powerful and unafraid. Johnny loved it too, he began to kiss and caress his gun; then he took his old handkerchief and wiped the bloodstains off. Johnny wanted to do it again, he wanted to kill, he loved the idea of killing. I told him that we had to get to the top of the stairs and escape, but he seemed reluctant to go up there. I let him know that it would be all right; then he confided in me that when grown ups are around; kids tend to forget about their imaginary friends.

I said, "Oh no, not me I’d never forget about you, I love you!"

Johnny just smiled, giving me a soft peck on the cheek and held my hands; his eyes began to turn red again, and although it frightened me, I pretended it didn’t exist because I wanted him around, the first man in my life that never wanted anything from me. Johnny was the perfect gentleman and I was willing to overlook his faults. My gut was telling me that something was wrong, but for whatever reason, I ignored my gut feeling and began to enjoy the pleasure of revenge.

Before we went upstairs, Johnny told me that we had to get at least four more friends. He let me know that I had the power to conjure up anything I wanted, and in order for me to be totally safe I had to kill all of those evil people upstairs, and all throughout the world. At first it didn’t sound right, especially when his eyes began to glow red again. When Johnny saw me thinking too hard, he reminded me how he had protected me, and how, if I had many more imaginary friends, I could be protected for life. The offer sounded good, and I jumped on board; besides, what could go wrong with just a few more imaginary friends? Not only would I be safe, but I could help other abused children that were in the same situation. So, for about an hour, I conjured up images of the perfect friends that I’d want to save and protect me.

First, I closed my eyes and said, "Samson, come forward."

And, he did. I could hear his huge footsteps in the background. I slowly opened my eyes, and saw my imagination come to live. Samson was a huge black gorilla, at least nine feet tall and over a ton. He had the biggest brown eyes, and his coat was so soft; I just ran up and hugged him tightly. At first, he didn’t move or make any loving motions toward me, but then Johnny spoke up.

"Yo, Samson, you big ape, give the little girl a hug."

Suddenly Samson warmed up and hugged me with his huge paw-like hands. That was the softest coat I had ever felt. But, as I was excited to meet another one of my imaginary friends, Johnny was pushing me to make more.

He kept on telling me, "We need at least two more."

So, then I conjured up Emily. She was very spooky, her skin was a pale ashen color, and she looked as if she’d been dead for years! She was really skinny and limber, the same age as I was, but she was a little shy; her long black hair covered one side of her face. I finally built up enough nerve to approach her.

I called out, "Emily!"

She just stood there like a zombie, slowly moving in an awkward fashion. Her legs and arms looked as if they were broken, but that was just the way she moved and walked; like an animal on all fours. Finally, when I called to her again, she answered with saliva coming out of her mouth. I went over and hugged her, but I could feel the evil coming from inside her. Something just wasn’t right, but I wanted to be free so bad that I once again overlooked all of the common sense that Jesus had given me.

And, last but not least, I created an old man named Walter. I liked to call him Sir Walter; he was nicely dressed, always in a white tux, and with dark shades on. He was at least seventy years old and carried an old wooden cane. I loved Walter’s silver hair and I made him to help me keep the others in line. But, what was disturbing about Walter was that he had no eyes, and worms lived in the socket. These worms were Walter’s friend; he wouldn’t let me take them out, he loved those worms like pets.

Once I had all of my friends together in one room, they began to whisper to each other, as if they had known one another for years. I told them to stop it; I didn’t like being left out. They all apologized in sneaky voices, but I was just glad that they had; for once someone said that they were sorry for something they’d done to me. Now it was time to take revenge on my mother and all of her friends. We walked up the cellar steps like a big bad gang.

After Samson tore down the locked door, for the first time in my life, I had all the confidence I needed. Once I made it to the top, I could hear the loud music, and I could smell the drugs in the air. Anyone who wasn’t having sex was snorting cocaine.

"Lil girl, go back in your cave," shouted one of my mother's friends.

I became very angry and told Emily to scare the daylights out of her. I watched as Emily crawled on top of her. As the girl began to scream, Emily put her entire hand down the girl’s throat and ripped out her vocal cords. Blood went everywhere. The music was so loud that no one could hear her. Even though it was a bit gross, I loved it. I began to enjoy someone else’s pain, the same way they had enjoyed mine.

Now it was payback time. I ordered Samson to go through the house and smash anything he wanted, kill as many as he saw fit. He was happy; a big smile came over his face. He began to pound his chest and bellowed with a loud roar, I had to cover my ears because it was so loud. Off Samson went, smashing everything in the house, putting huge holes in the walls. I could hear the people screaming and falling over each other, most of them thought they had a buzz from the cocaine, but little did they know that it was real. Many of them began to run, but Samson threw them against the walls like rag dolls. I could see people flying through the air; everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I was guarded by my four friends, I was untouchable.

Samson went through the house like a whirlwind, ripping electric cords out of sockets, tearing down ceiling fans, and knocking over television sets. No one was safe in the house, and that was the way I liked it; because I was never safe in my own home, no one else should be either. I saw Samson pick up one man and break him in two, his body’s top half went one way and the bottom the other. I watched as Samson pulled out his spine and threw it against the wall.

Then, as one man tried to escape, Walter tripped him with his cane so Samson could catch him. The more the people screamed, the more pleasure I got from watching their deaths. For the first time in my life, I was in control; no one would be able to hurt me again. While Samson was destroying the house, and Emily scared people, I sent Johnny to execute as many people as he wanted. His eyes lit up, and before I could say go, Johnny was gone. I could hear the gunshots in the air, the sounds of dead bodies plunging to the floor and the wicked laugh of Johnny. I didn’t care; I wanted to let him have all the fun he wanted.

Walter stayed constantly by my side, nagging me about how we had to clean up and get rid of the bodies. He was more the mother hen, making sure we all did what we were suppose to. Blood was everywhere; one wall looked as if someone had painted it red from all of the blood splatters. Then, as Walter was giving me my chore list, I heard my mother's voice, she was begging for her life. She was in the kitchen on her knees asking Johnny to forgive her, begging and pleading for her worthless life. She turned and looked at me, as if I was supposed to help her; after all she had done to me, she wanted me to save her.

"You have to be kidding," I said.

But she continued to beg. I then had the brightest idea; I called for Samson to come into the kitchen. When he showed up, I told him to make a hole in the wall and stick my mother in it. Johnny tied her hands and legs, and then I called Emily to tear out her voice. Emily came quickly, stuffed her hand into my mother's throat and ripped out her vocal cords. I could see my mother tremble as she held onto her throat, blood beginning to fill her airways, and I watched her slowly die, but that was not the end to her torture. I had the walls of the house sealed up.

All through the night, the five of us placed the dead bodies in the walls, and to make sure they didn’t stink, we wrapped them in sheets with sweet smelling incense. For two days, we cleaned the house and hid the bodies in the walls, until the house was like new. There were no signs of there ever being any killings or even someone living there. I was very proud of what I had done, the world was now a safer place with my mother and her friends gone, but there was lots more to do; there were many more children like me to saved.

I felt like an agent of revenge, making all the wrongs right. Not one day went by that I was regretful, I wasn’t sorry that my mother was dead, she deserved everything she got. She left me to suffer at the hands of her friends, now I hoped she was in hell suffering too. As days and weeks went by, I was having a blast with my imaginary friends. Walter would cook and Samson would eat most of the food. We sat at the table like a family; I even took them outside to play. Johnny loved the rural outdoors; he said it reminded him of his old west days.

I’d play with my friends, and children would laugh and call me a freak as they passed by; it seemed no one could see my friends but me. The children would run away from me or walk on the other side of the street. I didn’t care, I loved the world I was in; somehow my mind didn’t conform to reality, I was always in a dream. One day, the children were coming home from school and Samson and I were playing in the front yard.

One kid yelled out, "You fucking freak!"

Something inside of me just snapped. I told Samson to go and get that kid. He wasted no time charging after the kid like a wild animal. Finally, I could see the fear on the kid's face; the boy turned pure white. I laughed hysterically, I couldn’t stop; it seemed so funny to me, even when Samson bit off his head with one chop. Blood spurted everywhere, and because we were in a rural town, there was no one around. I watched as Samson swallowed the boy's head and then regurgitate it back up, that was so cool to me. The boy's body kept walking on its own, and I let it walk for hours in the back yard. As the blood drained from the neck we even played ring around the neck to see who could get three of their rings around it as the body walked without a head. Of course, Johnny won, followed by Emily. We had a blast, until there was a knock on the door. Samson grabbed the child and placed his body in the cellar and put its head in the outdoor septic tank.

I let Walter answer the door, because he was the only one suitable, most of us had blood all over our clothes and hands. At the door stood the sheriff; he asked questions about a missing boy. Walter played it smooth, he denied everything, he’d never seen a child, and told the officer that no children stopped at this house because of his sick daughter, that every child in the area was afraid of her.

The officer agreed and said, "How true you are."

Walter gave him a fake smile and the officer went on his way; he was one of those dumb officers that never paid attention to his surroundings. Because, if he had, he would have noticed the bloody handprints on the side of the house where he was standing, less than a foot away from him. I began to laugh, law enforcement was a joke, and we could go on killing for years without anyone ever noticing anything. As the police officer pulled away, I suddenly saw him stop the car, as if he was going to turn around. I began to get a little worried; then he got out of the car to shut the trunk, he had accidentally left it open and it was flapping in the wind.

I smiled and said to myself, What a stupid cop. Then I went on my way, cleaning the blood from the side of the house, and then retrieved the boy's body from the cellar.

Suddenly, Johnny said, "What is your name, and what shall we call you?"

For a second, I paused and realized that my mother never took the time to teach me my name; I was always called "hey you", "asshole" or "bitch". I had no answer for Johnny. I was so sad to realize that I didn’t have a name. I quickly ran into my mother's bedroom and began to search for anything about who I was, where I was born, or who I really belonged to. I found nothing, not even a baby picture, no diaries; nothing related to my birth, until I went to the back of her closet and pulled out a yellow envelope. On it was written "my worst nightmare". I opened it, and inside were pictures all tore up into tiny little pieces, with a note saying that she’d never wanted me, she wanted to kill me, but her heart wouldn’t let her do it. So, to take revenge on her heart, she’d abuse me until the pain she felt from being raped by her father was gone.

My mother was raped by her own father and I was the product of that! I guessed that's what led her to prostitution and drugs. The letter went on to say that she tried many times to kill me, whether it was holding my head underwater or kicking me down the stairs when I was younger, but for some reason I wouldn’t die. I was like a black omen to my mother; she hated every fiber of my being. One thing she mentioned that was strange was that every time she tried to kill me, a bright white light would appear. I asked Walter what that meant, and he told me it was them trying to protect me. They needed me alive so they could stay alive. He said that every abused or neglected child was so badly damaged mentally that they formed imaginary friends like him, Johnny, Emily and Samson. Without an abused child, or a mentally disturbed person, they would also die. Well, I promised Walter that I wouldn’t let them die, I would never leave them.

Emily crawled on the bed next to me. "How about we name you baby doll?"

"I like it," I said to Emily.

She smiled and crawled back off of the bed. I ran to the stove and burned all of my mother's papers; I was upset and angry that she hadn’t cared enough for me to even take the time to give me a name. But, who cared, I had my imaginary friends and that’s all that mattered. I was something to them, and they were something to me. Then Johnny came into the kitchen with excitement on his face, even as I finished burning the letters.

"Men are at the door with a few women, and they are calling out for your mother."

I quickly ran to the window and took a peak; they were nothing more than my mother's crack friends and her johns. I told Walter to get the door, and then move so that they couldn’t see him. He did so and then vanished through the walls. I could still see his outline; I knew that he was there watching and protecting me. My mother's crack friends came in, they smelled like booze and their clothing was filthy; all of them gave off a terrible odor. They came in, stumbling and making themselves at home.

"Where’s that sweet young thing of yours?" shouted one of the johns.

He was talking about me. I had watched as this man raped me over and over, while my mother stood and watched. I told Emily to go and scare the shit out of him. She crawled toward him with her cripple-like body. I watched as she caressed his penis. He loved it; he never looked down to see who was doing it.

"You like that, baby?" said Emily.

"Oh, yes I do!" said the john.

When he finally looked down, he saw Emily's ghost-like appearance and he began to scream, he screamed so hard that his vocal cords burst in his throat and he began to drown in his own blood. Then Emily ripped his penis out and took it to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet. The john shivered in pain, he couldn’t talk; he felt what I was feeling back when he was raping me and I couldn’t scream or I would be beaten or raped even harder.

I ordered Samson to place the body in the walls of the house. He wasted no time picking up the john, who was still alive, and pushed him into the opening in the walls. I saw the john screaming, begging for my help; it felt good not being the powerless one, it felt good to see someone else beg me for mercy. Finally, I was getting my revenge; I couldn’t wait any longer on the Lord, I had to take matters into my own hands.

Then I ordered Emily into the next bedroom, where some more of my mother’s girl friends were having a ball smoking a line of crack. I sat by the door in the hallway thinking, do I really want to kill them or not? I saw the way they wasted their lives, smoking balls of crack one after the other. I came to the decision that I would let them go, but when I came into the room and asked them to leave, they laughed at me over and over again. The laughter was so wicked that it pierced my heart, for some reason I just couldn’t take the laughter any more, and it hit my emotions so hard that I began to sweat. Beads of sweat ran down my face, the palms of my hands became wet; soon I had the urge to kill them both. I ordered Johnny to kill them, he loved shooting his gun, and he loved killing, this was a piece of cake for him.

Johnny jumped on the bed and began to pump the ladies’ bodies with bullets. I watched as they tried to leave and were blocked at the doorway by Emily and Walter, they loved to see death themselves, but the bullet noise was too much for my ears, I had to leave the room. From the kitchen, I could hear the ladies screaming and calling out for help, but there was no one to help them, they were way out in the country where houses were far apart. This was hillbilly country. I could hear Samson cracking the bodies of the ladies, getting them ready to be put into the walls.

Walter and I had a ritual; we would bathe the dead bodies, and embalm them like the Egyptians did their dead. To me, this was funny and exciting at the same time. One by one, Samson crushed the bones until they couldn’t be crushed anymore, and then handed the dead over to Walter and me. We prepared a special bath, Emily cleaned up the blood; sometimes I would catch her licking the walls that were covered with blood, and I would have to spank her like a little child. But, we were a family, I was the head of the household and in charge; we ate as a family, we laughed as a family, but most importantly we lived happily like a family.

After the house was clean from all of the killings, I noticed that we were running out of food. Feeding four people and Samson was starting to be a strain, but ultimately, I didn’t mind; they were my protectors and I was in charge of taking care of them. So, I told them we would go to the store and shop. First of all, I had a little money that my mother had left behind, and the store was just a small corner market that operated on credit. Walter drove the raggedy old pickup trunk that one of the johns had left behind, and off we went. For the first time in months, I was leaving the house; the sun looked so bright and the sky was so clear. I felt relaxed and happy; I had everything a girl could want, all the way to the store I kept my head out the window like a dog, wanting to see everything.

My life finally seemed to make a little sense, I was happy and so were my imaginary friends, but the more I kept them around, the more they became real. I noticed this when Walter stopped for gas; it seemed as if people could see him, but not the others.

When I asked why that was, all Walter could say was, "One at a time."

So I accepted that and thought to myself, I’ll have a real family in a few more months, every one of my friends will be alive and live among the living.

Well, we made it to the store and we began to pick out our favorite foods. Emily loved jelly; I got her every kind imaginable. We got tons of bread and meat for Samson, noodles and pancakes for Johnny and all Walter liked was tea and soups. I was like a kid in a candy store; I got everything that I ever wanted, candies and all.

"Not too much, you’ll get a bellyache," said Walter.

Suddenly, the owner came over and said, "Who are you talking too?"

I said, "None of your damn business!"

The owner grabbed me by my shirt collar, and suddenly Emily and Samson attacked him. Samson broke his neck while Emily pulled out his heart and stuffed him into a freezer. I thought it was hilarious, but it was time to go before someone saw us. We quickly filled up the truck with all the food we could fit; we had at least five shopping carts of food.

"Wheeeeeeeee, that was a rush," proclaimed Johnny.

He was happy, and so was everyone else; it was as if we had just robbed a bank. Samson wanted to take the body home, but it was too much baggage. I told him that next time we would. Then Samson smiled and was happy again. I reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a carton of milk. As I was drinking from it, I noticed that a reward was posted for the missing child that we’d killed. I just laughed and showed it to everyone. After everyone got a sip of the milk, we threw the carton out the window, not caring about what we’d done. Why should we care when no one ever cared about us?

Once we were almost home, we saw a massive search party looking for the same child that we’d killed. Searchers were handing out flyers and newspaper clipping with pictures and a reward. We took the flyer like we cared and once down the road we balled it up and threw it out the window. I began to laugh hysterically, for some reason this shit was funny to me. That boy would have been an evil person and I’d saved society from his reign.

As soon as we got home, we unloaded our loot. We were like wild dogs, we wanted to eat everything first, until Walter, who I called ‘mother hen’, told us only to eat a little so we wouldn’t get a bellyache. We all pretended to listen, and as soon as he turned his back, we were pigging out. Emily took a whole jar of strawberry jelly and ran off to her hiding spot. I was glad to see her happy, she was like the sister I’d never had. Samson ate the raw meat, which was totally gross and disgusting, but I just loved him, so no matter how gross or strange it was, I overlooked most of what he and my other three friends did, because I was once considered strange and unlovable.

And yet, they all loved me. All that night we pigged out and had a blast; we ate ice cream and watched cartoons. It was like having a day that everything went well. My life was perfect, I didn’t care about anything anymore; I was my own person.

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Don't work in night shift - Hari Nambiar

Working in a software company in Bangalore sometimes I have to extend late in the night. I joined the company 6 months back and I was happy with the remuneration and work life .The Company building was constructed on top of an old graveyard few years back. Being a small company usually you won’t find employees working late at night or during early hours. My office was located at the 6th floor of a building.

During one of such days I was working on my computer. I was working on a project that I had to submit the next day. The clock ticked 1 AM. Working for past 17 hours I was feeling little drowsy. Not sure what happened next, maybe I blacked out or was it a dream. It was a bizarre feeling; it was as if my whole body was floating. Not sure what caused this .Was it the strange voice that was coming from the washroom or was it the weird smell. It was as if something was burning. Then I heard that voice once again. The voice had a magnetic effect on me. It was as if, somebody was calling my soul.

Then everything stopped .There was no sound at all. I could hear the noise of open tap water from the washroom. Yes indeed I was going towards the washroom. The door of the washroom was slightly opened. I moved little further, taking each step with caution. Didn't know what lay behind that door. The smell in the air was exhilarating. I was standing inches away from the door know, moving my hand judiciously towards the door knob. It took a life time to hold the door knob. That’s when I felt the hand on my shoulders .Someone was trying to awaken me. It was the office boy chandru.

I opened my eyes fully awake. Looked at him for a few seconds .I wasn't sure what is real and what is not. I grabbed my bag and started to move towards the exit of my office, swiped the access card and took the stairs. With each step I took I could hear the echo .There was no else here. It was around 02:30 am. The air outside was still as if everything has stopped. I was so scared that I would have soiled my pants .Reached the 4th floor.

Suddenly I heard a noise. Was someone coming up the stairs .I peeped and didn't see anyone down below. Most of the building lights were switched off at this hour and I could hardly see what was happening below the stairs. But I could hear someone was indeed coming up. That's when I saw the shadow. It was a big shadow of a woman. I could see the outline of her body in the shadow. All this was happening so fast that I didn't realize that I was soaked in sweat. Her head was held low probably touching her chin and she looked old. I could see her. She was almost few inches away from me.

She was wearing old Victorian clothing and was walking towards me slowly .I tried to move I couldn’t, tried to scream I couldn't. I couldn't even cry .I was helpless. She was standing an inch away from me. I didn't know what was going to happen next, a thousand thoughts went through my brain. I wished I was somewhere else. On spur of moment she lifted her head. She was all white, had dark clack eyes. She screamed at her maximum .I closed my eyes and thought this is it, I am going to die. There was no noise for the next 2 minutes .I opened my eyes, but there was no one there. I composed myself and started crying like a kid. Started walking slowly towards basement in the building .I boarded by car and left.

It was around 03:30 AM in the morning, the roads were clear, there wasn't much traffic. I drove the vehicle slowly .I was still in shock. Did a see a ghost/spirit or whatever you call it .Was this for real. I wanted to bang the vehicle to a tree just to make sure that its real. But if it was real who was she and how did she disappear. I had thousand questions on my mind. I wanted to see my wife and kids for the last time. You think about important things in life in times like these. I raised the speed and was driving at around 80 Km/h. I didn't see the tempo lorry coming towards me .Hey it was coming the wrong direction. The vehicle was few meters away from me .Moments before the collision my whole life pictured in front me.

I woke up after few hours. I was in a small town .People were talking in strange tongue and they looked poor and were wearing plain clothing .I tried to speak with a passerby , but he didn't notice me .I tried with many people , but no one cared. All the people were walking towards a hill. On top of the hill there was a new Victorian bungalow. It was beautiful 2 storey building and looked marvelous from distance. I walked along with other people. I reached near the house and noticed that all the people were standing outside the gate. On the wall on the gate were the words" William Clay worth Governor ESTD 1802 ". The name sounded familiar. There was strange howl coming from inside the house. It was the howl of a wolf. The people outside the gate were praying. From a distance I could see a well dressed white man and his lady standing outside the house .There were speaking with a older white gentleman.

What year is this? I am the only person in shirt and trousers. Two police constables in horse came towards me and asked me

“Stop there. Who are you and what are you doing near Clayworth estate"

I replied "Not sure .I am not from here and I don't know how I got here “

At this they laughed and one fellow slapped me. I fell on the ground bleeding .I got up and told them that I really don't know what is going on. They kicked me once again and left. One wise person from the crowd offered me some water and asked me.

"Don't you really know how you reached here? Who are you sir.

I said “My name is Karan Desai. I work in a company in Palace road Bangalore"

He replied “Hmm There is a palace nearby. But we don't call it palace road. The British have given names to roads. You talk strange and are wearing strange clothing.

I said Please help me understand what's going on.'

He said “The daughter of William Clayworth was sick. She is possessed by the ancient spirit .The only way to get rid of the spirit from her body is to do a puja.The Puja can be done only by head Pujari from the local temple. We are here to convince Mr. Clayworth that we can get rid of the bad spirit. But he isn't ready to listen. Not sure what to do. Once we get the spirit under our control, it can’t cause any problems for the next 200 years.

I asked him "What year is this”

He replied in sardonic tone “Well the Clayworth bungalow was constructed 8 years back and if the inscription on the gate is correct, and then it is 1810 .I don’t care much about the English year. “

There were too many thoughts going on my mind right now. If what he is saying is correct, some things made sense. But was it a dream or is it reality. He was still talking about the Puja that needs to be done. From the distance we could see a young lady in blood stained dress running towards the hills. She was screaming and it was a frightening scene.Mr Clayworth along with few constables ran behind her. Few people who were witnessing the spectacle behind the gate followed them at a safe distance. The last thing we saw her body falling from the far away cliff.

I heard the voice of someone calling me. I woke up and saw an old beggar in soiled shirt and panama standing in front of me.

He asked “What happened. Are you ok.

I got up and realized that I had met with an accident. It was a dream after all. The car was badly damaged in the crash and I was bleeding from the head. I asked him the direction to the nearest auto stand. Walking towards the auto stand I checked my pocket and felt something odd inside my left pocket. It was a picture of a young white lady .Signed below the painting was the name “Victoria Clayworth ". It was the same lady I saw in my dream and in the company stairs few hours back, though she looked old. Talking about time I didn't know what the time was.

05:00 am

I reached the auto stand and told him to take me to the nearest hospital. I discussed the entire story with my wife after sometime. She laughed at the whole thing .Thinking about the whole thing right now I really don't know if it was a dream or reality. Did I see spirits in the company stairs .There are many questions that are unanswered?

I am happy to be alive after the accident.

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The Subway - Chirs McKenna

Gary woke sluggishly from his sleep and started up at sign that said, 'Be an artist,' in large bold letters. How long ago had he hung that up there he wondered? How many mornings had he woken up and ignored his past self? Enough was enough. With all the effort he could muster he stood up on his bed and yanked the flimsy paper from the ceiling, tossing it across the room and just missing the bin - he'd put it in when got back from work.

Grimly he pulled his shirt and trousers from around the room where they had been abandoned the day before and pulled his tie a little too tightly around his neck. He didn't look good. Why hadn't he gone to bed earlier he wondered, looking at the dark bags under his eyes. Why had he stayed up all night doing nothing? It was going to be another long day.

He made his way out the door pulling his jacket tightly around him. There were others out on the cold wet morning streets. He passed them without a greeting as always. His head forcing his reluctant legs onwards. The trains weren't far at least.

As always the station was crowded, lines of people shuffling through the gates like a herd of cows. Someone pushed against Gary more than necessary and without looking at the man he jolted him away to one side with his hip. The man gave out a loud unnatural groan and disappeared into the crowd. Passing the gate, another commuter pressed closely against his back, an automatic shove drove him back. People were always so eager to get to the trains. Didn't they realise that they left at the same time every day? Didn't they realise there wouldn’t be any seats anyway?

He made his way to the waiting carriage, being forced and nudged on all sides, the people closing into to a tight press. He heard another strange groan in the crowd and wondered if the same man who had been shoving him was somewhere nearby. It wouldn't matter; all people were faceless in the crowd. He wouldn't remember anyone and no one would remember him.

Getting on the train he grabbed on to one of the handles that hung from the carriage ceiling and rested his head against his hand; of course, all the seats had been taken already. He could never work out how people could get on the train so fast before everyone else.

More people crowded into the carriage until the bodies were so tightly packed that there was really no need for Gary to hold on any more, there was nowhere for him to fall. In the press the bodies smelled bad, they always did, but today much more than usual. There was a rotting smell somewhere in the carriage, it happened from time to time that you got stuck behind some overweight businessman who's shirt was already drenched in sweat by the time he got to the station, but today was much worse. He'd just have to deal with it.

As the train jolted to a start Gary began to wonder why he was doing it to himself. He was supposed to be a comic book artist, not some officer worker. When he had hung that sign on the ceiling above his bed he had promised himself the job was only to make enough so that he could take a year out, so that he could survive and get his first graphic novel finished. What had he been doing for the past three years? How had he become so caught up in it all? An energy rose up with in him that he had not felt in a long time and strength and determination he had forgotten he had. No longer, he thought to himself. He'd wasted enough time, he was getting off at the next station and never going back to an office again unless he was starving. He smiled to himself at his new freedom. The choice made him feel awake, made him feel excited, made him feel alive!

He looked around the carriage getting ready to make his way to the door, when he realised with dread that he was already too late. The faces around him were not those of the living. Their flesh and skin was rotten, their heads drooped and hanging, here and there they groaned in the sway of the carriage. Aware of Gary's new found life the closest of the zombies turned to him. Even with part of the creatures face missing, Gary could see the lust on his face. He turned tried to run, but there was nowhere to go, the doors were sealed the bodies packed too tightly to escape. Effortlessly the creature bit into his neck, other zombies grabbing at him yanking and tearing his skin with inhuman strength. In minutes he was torn apart, his life ripped from him, but truly he had already died long ago.

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'Please' - Alexandra Kaz

Wednesday 19th January was the day when Melissa found her dream house, It was perfect..for her but not for her sister Clara, “This looks like a ruined castle that someone died in” Was the first thing Clara commented on when she entered the Gothic house, it was dusty and spooky like a living human never visited this house. The only reason Melissa bought it was because it was going for so cheap, it had to be either sold or burned down for various reasons but the sisters that bought the house for £999 didn’t have a clue.

They have both lost their jobs of alcohol and smoking and needed a place to shelter. They came from a very rich background but the two sisters wanted to live a normal life but then went into rehab. As they were driving their ‘normal’ Fiesta car they just happened to see a house for sale and stopped by and immedietly bought it.

“Look, this will be for the best” Lucia informed Janice “They will buy this house, we’ll earn money or otherwise the house will be burned down, after all, its 387 years old”

Bang, the brick hit the ground “Ok, this is bad but we’ll fix it up” Melissa tried assuring Clara but it didn’t work, she was still curious about the house, it looked old and the door was burned and jammed, “We bought the house but we cant get in it, great” stressed Clara. On the door mat it was suppose to say “HELLO” but the ‘O’ seemed to be faded from Earth and it was left with “HELL”. Melissa worried if thats what living in this house would be, hell.

Finally they unblocked the what used to be a wooden door and Melissa coughed as the dust fell into her eyes that were as blue as an ocean, sure, Clara and Melissa were similair, blue eyes and blond natural hair but now Melissa dyed hers flamingo purple and Clara’s is now a mahogany type colour but Clara worried more and Melissa, the emo style chick was the ‘chill dude’ type. Clara wondered in, frowned and sputtered, “Really? is all that worth it? We could have bought a flat for cheaper than that and pay no attention and certainly not this much work, this is a wreck, Mel, How? I mean...Why? WHAT IS THAT!?”

“What’s what?” Melissa asked, confused.

“Umm, nothing just a white shadow, probably the sunlight”

It was getting late and they were trying to fix the door.”Lets call the plumber and buy a new door, im not staying here without a door” Clara said, so they did but they had to leave the house, to buy foods and drinks.

They returned home. Something Happened. “Where’s the plumber gone?” asked Melissa and just got a one shoulder shrug of Clara.

Melissa came originally from a poorer background, lived with her dad, they lived in a huge house, he was a wealthy man but a goth and lived in that terrfic house. One day, her father; Nathan ran into their mother and got back together and thats how Clara and Melissa grew up together again.

“Where is he? I paid him! I’ll phone his company....Hello...Yes...Thats right....but....why?....NO....thats the house but why.....whatever. Melissa, they said that he could not be on his own in this house, and she told me well us to be careful in that house”

Melissa looked around carefully and the place looked so familiar. “You know, this house looks so familiar, like my old house” Were the words that stumbled out of Melissa’s dry pink mouth.

They worked hard, stayed up until midnight, not daring to go upstairs, they slept downstairs on the yellow stained couch which was kindly donated by a charity, “Look, I hated being the rich girl but i don’t want to be a tramp” Clara spit out bitterly when she saw the sofa.

“We got no other option, have we? Think about it Clara.” Melissa told her. So far the two sisters only explored the downstairs, they currently been working on the living room, repainting it bright red, added some furniture and thankfully removed the stained couch. They added bright red and black flowers for the effect on the modern, not at all scratched glass table, they had there furniture on one side of the huge living room and the stereo, plasma TV, DVD, and their pink laptop their mother bought them for their 18th Birthday.

“Lets work on the kitchen now, after all, its morning now and its thursday...Hey...You know that our 19th birthday is in a month, shall we have it here?”

“Yeah!! Good Idea Melissa! We shall rock this place and make it so perfect.”

They walked into the kitchen, there were no furniture and the once white blinds were now gone a horrible faded yellow, like somebody used them in the toilet! They decided they wanted to buy new furniture today, after all, they wanted to get the downstairs done, there was the kitchen, the living room, the toilet and a study. The study was horrible and yukky, the only good thing there was the nice calm blue wallpapers. “Should we just keep the wallpaper here? It looks ok, Just add some furniture, but i dont want this to be a study” Argued Melissa as soon as she stepped on the squeaky floor in the so called study.

“Yes, what about a little resting area? You know? Like a games console, we got that in our luggage”

“Exactly, we have got a PS3, Nintendo DSi, a laptop and a PSP and some other games, we shall use them in here, we got another wooden table so place it in here,Yeah? then buy another sofa, blue to suit the wallpaper and yes, is that it? for the Game Room?”

“I should think so, thats another room planned, now we just need the kitchen sorted, the bathroom is done except maybe a little cleaning and that pretty picture of Marilyn Monroe hung up,eh?”

“Yes, that would be perfect, lets focus on downstairs at the moment and the halls are suitable and the carpet work, too hard unless a workman comes but he might run out like the last one, Bob. Get moving we’re going shopping” and with that they left the house, they took their car, they weren’t used to this atmosphere in this city, it looked so dull but most people looked happy. They arrived at the store, bought a couch which was on sale, a nice wooden chair, black and white tile wallpaper for the kitchen.

“Hello, Do you need delivery?” the salesperson asked.

“How much for?” said Melissa

“Free,darling”

Took a moment for Melissa and Clara to think it through then finally answered yes and told them the address.

“Excuse me, Im Nancy, You live there?” A woman with widly black dyed hair questioned them.

“Yes, why?” Clara wondered.

“I know i’m a stranger to you but can i look at that house properly, i’m not a stalker, dont worry” and with that the sisters agreed.

They even gave Nancy a lift and suggested she sleeps over even if she is a stranger and its getting dark and no way anyone wants to drive or get away from the house or even be left alone in that scary house, it was on a hill, the nearest house was 10 minutes away, so you could see how scary it was for them.

“Wow” Nancy exclaimed when she entered. “This is unbelievable!, so its true!”

“Whats true?” asked Melissa.

“I dont want to say this to scare you or something but haven’t you heard the history of this..this house?”

“No, we haven’t, tell us”

“I heard, a girl, 387 years ago lived here, her name was Angelica and she still haunts this house, no one dared living here, why did you buy this place anyway?”

“Because it was on sale” Answered the now scared Clara.

“Well, I also heard a girl lived here, about 10 years ago? No! More than that, It was a daughter and her father living there, she had blond hair and blue eyes, the stories tell, and so rumours spread, when I heard this address, I thought how brave are you two to live here?”

“Who is that girl?”

“What Angelica? She was a 12 year old girl who died, her father strangeled her in that house and apparently now she doesn’t want any girl to live in this house, also, apparently, theres a message she wants to give people, she doesn’t come at daytime, only at nightime, but I dont know if all this is true! Oh yeah she only haunts the upstairs and so on, the cellar and basement especially. You’re living here now so you’ll find out!”

“What about the other girl?” Clara sputtered over her own words.

“Right, no one knows that much about her, just that she was a little rich and her parents spilt up. You been uptairs yet?”

And with the shake of Melissa’s head, she carried on. “Where are we sleeping tonight, gurls?”

“What about here? in the living room, we don’t want to go upstairs at night”

“I see where you are coming from” Laughed Nancy then she heard something break upstairs, the girls let out a scream.

“Probably nothing, just go to sleep now”

The girls locked all the doors and shut the living room doors.

Melissa thought in her sleep, about Anjelica, what Nancy said and thought about the girl that lived here with her father..Was that girl her?

Melissa couldn’t sleep, but neither could Nancy or Clara. Melissa saw it all. Someone coming quietly down the stairs then opening the living room door and Melissa closed her eyes quick enough and tried to sleep.It was all happening again. Her Childhood Memories. She was the girl that Nancy talked about, the girl that lived with her father. That was Melissa.

Finally morning came, Nancy and Clara were already up arguing and then that woke Melissa up.

“Whats going on?” asked Melissa.

“Oh, we don’t know whick one of us went upstairs and checked it out, because I heard someone coming down the stairs” Nancy was furious.

“Did you have your eyes closed?” gasped Melissa.

”Yeah” They both answered.

“Good, we got to get out of here”

Clara and Nancy were confused, they all stepped into the landing of the foot of the stairs and just as Melissa knew, there should have been a vase that was broken.

“Whats this?” Nancy picked up a piece of paper and read. “ ‘Hello, who ever is reading this, Im Melissa Brunole aged 11, GET OUT OF THIS PLACE NOW’ ”

“Is this a joke?” Clara asked Melissa.

“No, Nancy? You know the girl that lived with her father, rich one?”

”Yes”

“It’s me, remember?, Our parents used to be split up and I was the blonde girl, with my dad, we were rich but not millionares like Clara and her mum”

“Oh my god! So was it Angelica that went downstairs?” asked Nancy.

“Yes, Let me tell you, she only comes out at night, and dont ever mention her name, because when I was 11, I kept writing notes for the next people that are going to live there, to warn them but as soon as you say her name, she knows someone is taling about her, she hates that and first at 11pm she breaks the vase to let everyone know she will be visting you, and now thanks to Nancy she’ll come again. If someone calls her 3 nights in a row, she’ll go as far as coming into your body and trying to kill you, first night is nothing, secong night is bad and the third? DON’T EVEN ASK ME! It’s scary, really scary”

“But why did you ask us if we opened our eyes?”

“If you open your eyes, well, lets say, she knows if you have or not, if you have, at first you dont see her then BAM! all of the sudden she appears in your face, she has really really white skin and always wears a long long white dress, she never looked human, her long back hair hangs in her white pale face, her eyes are red and bloody, and she walks really slow dragging her head on her left side, trust me, I saw her. I’m scared, If you see her also, she haunts you bad and you cry blood, just in this house, at night never open yor eyes. NEVER!” and with that Melissa still in her silky nighties ran out, Nancy and Clara also in their pajamas ran out to help poor Melissa. They catch her and calm her down and notice she is crying blood.

“So it is true, NO!” Clara screams and hugges her shivering sister. Nancy just gone pale and she starts being sick. “What should we do?” Nancy asked Melissa when she calmed down.

“We got to sort this out, I don’t want that to happen to someone else so we got to kill the demon. Nancy asked her how and simply, Melissa answered, “Girls, I know we will, so why don’t we finish decorating the kitchen and the games room, Nancy, we don’t know you so well but you proved you are a great friend, move in with us, got your stuff?”

Clara agreed with what Melissa said and Nancy seemed surprised and moved in right away. They finished decorating the kitchen and the games room when it was still 9am and chilled out. Then Melissa’s bones began to rattle when she heard Nancy speak, “Its still morning, let’s go check out upstairs when it’s still light”.

Gingerly, one by one, they started to go upstairs, Melissa at the front, she knew the house well as she remembered it now. She stepped into the upstairs bathroom and looked around, surprisingly, it look cleaned. “Why is it clean? I thought it would be dusty” Wondered Nancy. The next place was the spare guest bedroom, it was empty, nothing was there, there were 4 bedrooms and an empty spare room, Melissa and her father used as the dressing room, they stepped inside, now there was nothing there, like no one lived there for years, they soon entered a room that was pink and had Barbie all over. “I’m guessing this was your room?” Clara asked Melissa and Melissa nodded. It was a great room and now it was horrible, her father’s room was discusting and smelled of foot odour. The other bedroom was the best looking out of all of them then suddenly she nearly stepped into Angelica’s bedroom, well, she knew that Angelica stayed there. Melissa shuddered. “What?” Nancy glided over to Melissa.

“That is her room”

“What An..” Nancy stopped midway, she didn’t want to say her name, too scared.

“I know what i’m going to do, you can stay here or go downstairs or even leave the house, I got to stay here until midnight, until she appears”

“We are not leaving you, we’re staying, love!” Nancy added sarcasticaly.

“Sure?” Asked Melissa, as it is going to be scary.

They both nodded their heads like a doll’s head which bobs up and down.

They waited for ages, then finally....the door from Anjelica’s room opened, they all had their eyes close then finally, bravely Melissa opened her’s. She saw everything she described, the other girls did the same; open their eyes, yes, same thing happened, all of the sudden Anjelica appeared in your face, they started crying, didn’t move, they were frozen, Melissa, kept a straight face, used to this and said to Anjelica.

“Im Melissa, the girl that had to go to the doctor because of you, a girl who gone mental because of you.”

Anjelica’s head, slowly turned up, i never did before, she was shocked but so was her sister and Nancy, looking at Melissa like she was going mad.

“I hear you got a message” Melissa spoke bravely.

“Yes, I do want you to leave me or I’ll kill you”

Clara had to slap herself to make sure she heard it right....Yes...the ghost actually spoke.

“Why? I grew up here”

”So did I, over 200 years ago”

Anjelica spoke in a soft scary slow voice.

“Let me be”

“I will, just get out, You deserve to be in heaven” Melissa wondered if she was actually speaking to someone who ruined her childhood.

“I ruined you because my father ruined me, killed me because of my politeness”

“What?” Clara forced herself to speak.

The ghost just looked at her.

Glared, saying nothing at all.

“I would leave if you knew manners, all I need is a word, one word, Melissa, no one spoke to me in 287 years, just say one word and I’ll leave and you could be a hero, and if you say that word, teach everyone else it.”

Melissa thought and said “Please” and as fast as Melissa said it, Anjelica dissappeared.....

Melissa woke up... It was all a dream, not everything but.....“This looks like a ruined castle that someone died in” Was the first thing Clara commented on when she entered the Gothic house. Melissa heard it before, she quickly looked up to one of the atttic windows and saw Anjelica smiling and she had written the word please on the dusty window.

Melissa, instead of saying “Ok, this is bad but we’ll fix it up” she said “Let’s head upstairs”.

That is all they needed..The word Please.

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