The Fallen Queen (Winner of the Write Way Award 2013) #Wattys2015 #MyWattysChoice #Featured

Chapter 4: The Girl Who Lived in the House Before

It was raining that morning. My window was slightly open, and wet, fresh air invaded my bedroom. Something bothered me in my sleep. I felt as if something had stabbed my heart, stolen my breath, and my sleep. Something was haunting the house I lived in. Something was watching over me, trying to strangle me in my bed. I stared at the shadow that leaned over me. Screams. I heard screams. I saw nothing but darkness. Slowly, the black turned to red and I opened my eyes. I soon realized the screams were mine. I was the one screaming.

"Will you shut up now?" shouted my mother as her face suddenly appeared in my bedroom doorway.

"I had a nightmare," I explained.

"Don't talk back to me, young lady. Are you gonna move your lazy ass downstairs or stay in bed all day?"

I knew I could not sleep anymore. For one, I had the tendency to continue my nightmares where I left off, and I did not want to relive what had made me scream. I do not remember what it was, only that it was horrifying. And second, it was morning and if I did not wake up soon, she would have pulled me out of bed by my ear.

"I am not asking much of you, but I guess it's too much for your little brain," said my mother when I joined Audrey and Jeremy in the living room, where my parents had installed the dining table since the kitchen was too small to contain it.

They were sitting at the table in silence. Jeremy was looking around as if nothing was worthy enough to keep his attention. Audrey's head was bent forward. She was staring at the floor like she wished she could hide under it.

"Morning, princess," said the cruel woman when she saw me. "So, you decided to sleep in today?"

"I didn't decide. I just slept," I replied, trying to explain that it was not intentional.

"What did I tell you a minute ago? I told you 'Don't talk back to me'!" she shouted.

She continued where she left off before I arrived.

"I don't ask much of you, but since you are a bunch of idiots, it seems you need me to tell you everything more than once. Today, Mother does not want to be disturbed, okay? So I don't want you guys to come and bother me with some stupid questions. You only come to see me when one of you is doing something dangerous, and I hope you are not stupid enough to do anything reckless. You girls watch over your brother. I don't want any fighting. If I hear anyone screaming, all of you will be punished. Stay outside, because you will end up just dirtying the house. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mother," answered Audrey.

My mother looked at me, waiting for my answer.

"When will we eat, though?" I asked.

"Look at that! The princess is thinking about her stomach. You know, if you pass your day eating, you will end up fat when you reach my age."

"But I'm hungry."

"Your brother and sister already had breakfast. You would have had breakfast too if you didn't decide to sleep in."

"When will we have lunch?" I asked again.

"When I call you."

And off we went.

At least I felt reassured that we would have something to eat later.

Audrey and I made mud pies. We tasted some of it, but it was awfully crunchy. We spat it out. Again, Jeremy was the smartest amongst us. He did not taste it. Somehow, he knew mud was not good to be eaten. I caught myself hoping he knew that because he had already tried it. How else could he know? Our pies were brown like chocolate. They looked delicious.

Maybe it was because he did not look at them. He only cared for his own game. He was throwing clothes pins in a milk bottle. While doing so, he made funny bird-like noises with his mouth.

We knew that we could be louder outside than in the house. Here, Mother could not hear us. She rarely came out of the house. She always stayed inside.

Audrey and I heard a laughter. We turned our heads toward the neighbor's house. We called him Mr. Tulip because his wife liked to plant tulips around their house. He looked like a nice man. He seemed to have such a happy family, too. Their son had a soap box car and Mrs. Tulip pushed him around and laughed with him. Their son, who was about Audrey's age, would have a big smile on his face as he turned his steering wheel. He was free to go wherever he wanted. Mother would never play with us like that. Mother was in a war.

Fortunately, it was quite easy to put the war on "pause" if we did what she wanted. She loved us better when we were quiet, almost non-existent. If we were quiet, she did not yell as much, she did not hit us. When she was not there, it was different. As they say: "When the cat's away, the mice will play." When Mother was not there, we felt free. We could laugh, jump, take off our shoes and walk bare feet in the grass, feeling the ants running between our toes.

"Dinner time!" called Mother.

We all ran inside to wash our hands in the bathroom.

The kitchen was empty. My mother was upstairs listening to her music, but she took the care to lay a casserole, plates and utensils on the table. We understood we were to eat shepherd pie for lunch.

"Shepherd pie! My favorite!" I said excitedly.

It was a good day. A rare day.

We heard Mother talking to her friend on the phone from the living room.

"No, I am telling you. I think we got screwed. Someone died in this house."

She paused, letting the other person answer.

"No one knows if it was a suicide. But even then, since someone died here, the price should have gone down."

Someone died here? Who was this person? What happened? My mother continued to tell the story of a mysterious and tormented little girl whose parents never let her leave the house. Eventually, the family had left the house, but nobody had seen the girl leaving with them. People in the village came to think that she had died and that her body was buried somewhere on the property. Unfortunately, since the corpse was never found, it was unclear whether she had really disappeared, and in such case, if it was an accident, a murder or a suicide. There was no proof of anything, so the police never investigated it seriously.

All this gave a more Gothic twist to our home.

My mother seemed more interested in the story's charm and gloominess. So, when she finally hung up the handset (I knew one should not bother her when she was doing something), I slowly walked towards her.

"Mother, I think I saw the girl in your story last night, when I was sleeping. "

She stared down at me from the bench she was sitting on, a cigarette dangling between her lips, as if her brain had seized up.

It seemed she could not believe I was able to understand anything of what she said. A child was not supposed to understand grown-up's conversations.

"You little rat. You don't listen to people when they are not talking to you!"

Since my mother showed interest in horror stories, I thought perhaps she would appreciate my contribution, which could have been true, to her standards.

But she didn't think much of me. I was just a feather brained child with strange nightmares. Nothing else.