MOTEL CHILD (Haunted)

Alone in the Dark

I sat in the kitchen. My back against the back wall so that I could see everything in front of me. It had gotten dark, and the fear of venturing out to look for Lilly was enough to keep me still. I tried to distract myself from the oddity of the missing book and the mysterious light, but the harder I tried to separate myself, the more I thought about them.  Finding no comfort in sitting with my imagination and patches of sweat, I stood up and opened the fridge. The foggy yellow light filtered out, depressing me with all the dust mites in the air. Eyeing a banana, I pulled it out and shut the door.

I quickly became occupied by the fruit as a strong wind whipped up outside the door. I took a generous bite, licking my fingers afterwards and, being so intent with my food, I wasn’t ready for the loud bang on the roof. I jumped forward, caught myself on the counter in front of me, and quickly swallowed the morsel I had in my mouth before choking on it. As I patted my traumatized throat, I heard the creaking of a cabinet door swing open from the impact of the possible fallen tree limb. I turned around just in time to catch the door before it smacked into the top of the fridge. I closed it gently and took in a deep breath.

That cabinet door had opened up before when I had accidently tripped into the wall just behind it; it must’ve been sensitive to that faraway pressure for it to open up one itself. As I stood in the darkly blue lit kitchen, gnawing the rest of the banana off of the peel, my eyes caught sight of a car pulling in outside of the house. Crouching to the floor, and then eventually on my hands and knees, I crawled over to the window and peeked ever so carefully through the curtain without moving it. The car lights turned off and the driver stepped out. But instead of a man, like I had imagined, it was a woman. And it wasn’t just any woman, it was my mother.

Letting out a sharp gasp, I covered my mouth and my body quaked. I couldn’t understand it. Straining for a wider view, I noticed that Lilly’s car hadn’t pulled in. But I didn’t need to worry, for my mother walked in front of the car to the passenger side where she pulled out a girl. The girl looked limp in her arms, but conscious enough to walk. I knew it was Lilly. I wanted to say something; I wanted to run out, but my body was paralyzed. I fell into a violent tremor that I couldn’t stop. I sunk to the floor, letting my body shake uncontrollably. My breath felt like it was clawing out of my throat and my lungs were collapsing under my own intensity.

As I looked over to the front door, I heard a low, woman’s voice shriek at me.

“Norman!”

I let out a scream, scrambled to my feet and ran out the front door, slamming it behind me. I didn’t care who saw me, or who was after me. I had to hide. I caught sight of the door to room one open, and, not being particular in my hiding spot, I burst inside and locked it behind me. Staring at the closest and then under the bed, I made my decision on where to hide and it wouldn’t be those two spots. In stiff movements, I bounded to the bathroom, pulled back the plastic curtain and sat down on the cold, white tub. I pulled the curtain closed and saw huddled in my fear.

Everything sounded so loud. The beating of my heart, the rushing of my breath, the natural creaks in the house, the blowing of the wind, everything seemed to be attacking me with their vocal abilities. I covered my ears and looked out at my peripheral vision, watching to see who would enter. As I sat with my knees pulled tight to my chest, I heard the sound of the door’s lock being thrown and then entering footsteps. I pressed both my hands over my mouth to keep myself from whimpering, but it seemed impossible. Whoever was out there was going to find me.

For a moment, I couldn’t hear or see anything. I wanted to believe it was my imagination, but I knew it wasn’t. Finding a steady rhythm in my body, I slipped my hands from my mouth and lifted myself up just enough to look through the crack of the curtain. But as I did so, there was a loud thud! inside the tub, bringing my immediate attention. Snapping my head towards the drain, I saw my book.  I exploded to my feet and made to escape before the shower curtain was smothered in my face and I was brought to the floor. In a panic, I tried to breathe, but the plastic was preventing me to do so. I kicked out with my feet, hitting what felt like a chest and legs, but it didn’t matter who was attacking me…I knew I was dying.

I was soon able to twist onto my hands and scramble out of my cocoon of death. I didn’t look back, I had to get out or find something to protect myself. Stumbling to my feet, I limped out as fast as I could towards the reception desk inside. Once I was inside, I closed the door and barded it with the desk chair by putting the top frame of the chair underneath the doorknob. It held its own. I bolted into the kitchen and pulled out a small knife and, from the bottom drawer of the oven, where miscellaneous items were kept, I brought out a drill. Taking both weapons with me, I went over to the phone, plugged in the drill, and then tried to phone the sheriff.

As I waited for the other line to pick up, I heard a soft voice from the other side of the door. It was directed at me. Placing a hand over the mouth piece, I listened to the voice. I had heard it before. In fact, it was the same voice Lilly and I had heard in the house.

“Norman, let me in now! Norman, don’t you do this to me. You don’t want me to hurt you now do you, boy?” the old lady voice croaked. “You better put that phone down, or I’ll have to punish you!”

Terrorized by such a threat (whether she would fulfill it or not), I hung up and jammed myself in the corner, the drill in my hands like a gun. I watched as the door slowly budged open and the tall figure entered. Not knowing what to do, except see who my enemy was, I slowly moved a free hand over to the lamp on the desk. I moved like a cat, softly, but quickly. And then, jumping back after doing so, I switched on the light. A burst of yellow lit up the dark corner, blinding both of us temporarily. But when I came to, and my eyes were capable of handling the light, I stared into a frightening face. A face I had been forbidden to see.

A face I resembled perfectly.

His lips moved to speak, but instead of the expected voice of man, the cawing of a mad old woman came out instead. “What are you doing here, Norman?”

Closing my eyes, I stuttered, “I’m not Norman, I’m Oliver! I’m your son!”

“Norman ain’t got a son!” the face screeched, the long arms gripping onto the edge of the reception desk.

“Yes, y-y-you do. You do have a son! My name’s Oliver, your wife is name Janice-Leigh Bates—,”

At that, my father cried out in a roaring anger and knocked everything off of the desk and reached out to grab me by the throat. I felt his long fingers wrap around ever so neatly. His dark features shook in rage and his lips twitched in almost a snarl. Still speaking in the old lady’s voice, he said in a melodic tone, “You liar! Norman isn’t allowed to see girls, not when I’m here! He listens to his mother; mother protects Norman. Mother wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her Norman.”

Straining against his tightening fingers, I managed to squeak, “P-p-please, you don’t understand. I’m Norman’s only son. Please, let me speak to Norman, can I speak to Norman?”

His face softened, as did his fingers. He released me and shrunk back in a childlike manner. His hands dropped to his side, his head bowed slightly, and he became quiet. He didn’t move. It was as if my words drove him into a catatonic stage. As I rubbed my throat, I heard another voice speak up. This time, it was soft, friendly, and almost remorseful.

“You must excuse my mother, she isn’t right today. Y-you see, my wife’s come back to live with us, and she isn’t very happy.”

Eyeing the house behind him, I said, “She’s helping you?”

Looking offended, he shot up two beady eyes and said boldly, “Yes. She took me from that mad house and promised to take care of me. But mother mustn’t know she’s there.” His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened, then shifted slightly. Through his teeth, he said to me, “You mustn’t let anyone know you saw mother here.”

Not knowing how to respond, I instead leaped for the phone to call for help. I didn’t know what to do, or say. I was talking to a madman; there was no way to talk sense to him. As I frantically dialed, he unexpectedly turned and walked out the front door towards the house on the hill. Fearing he was going to kill Lilly, I dropped the phone and ran after him. But before leaving, I went into the kitchen and concealed myself a knife. I wish I had something more manageable if I was to face hand-in-hand combat. But nevertheless, I trusted it would wield its power at the right time.