Susanna (A Short Story)

A manor hides all manner of things- perhaps even more than its master thinks.

The house I own is very old, belonging to very old owners who owned very old books and lived a very old-fashioned lifestyle. Just about everything was old in this house, and it was more akin to some antiquated church or ancient ruin than a proper living establishment. The walls were gray, the ceiling was high, and the floor was covered with a thick layer of dust. The curtains and leftover furniture were rotten and eaten by insects, leaving just scarlet shreds of their former Victorian splendor. The house was thoroughly inhospitable when my wife and I came upon it. But, under my wife’s supervision, it underwent a swift and decisive metamorphosis. It was made into an enjoyable and homely manor, after being repainted and redecorated and recreated in as many ways as possible with our budget at the time.

            We were happy, and it is fair to say that the house went through a golden age with my wife here. It was a bright house at the time, beautiful in its old age, and even more spectacular after my wife’s decorum renaissance. My wife and I lived in that place for a dozen years; along with our energetic Labrador and the most precious thing we have ever been charged with- Susanna, our newborn daughter.

            But all golden ages are merely gilded illusions. Underneath the golden surface, there lay old wood foundations, which rotted and fell into shambles, sinking into ruin and breaking the bonds that had withstood the better part of two decades. I live in the manor alone now, and it had fallen into disrepair- the chandelier in the main hall was covered in white cobweb and all the other hallways were dusty and dull. Even the library, my usual place of residence, was beginning to get dreary and timeworn. I myself am not doing any better, in all honesty. I had begun to misplace books in the wrong shelves, and had been disarranging the kitchen and other places periodically. I hadn’t noticed it, but Susanna, who nowadays alternates between my house and her mother’s, had been complaining quite a lot about the unorthodoxy of my organization, claiming that I had messed up rooms I know I haven’t touched in months. This continued for six months, and Susanna seemed to grow increasingly dissatisfied with the manor and only came here begrudgingly, complaining very, very often on the most mundane mistakes and most forgettable flaws. It was getting quite annoying.

            On a thundering night, I was awoken by Susanna’s shadow in my bedroom doorway. She was crying and complaining as per usual. I shouted at her to go back to bed, and, soon enough, the shadow was gone from the room. A few moments passed, but I couldn’t go to sleep. Then I heard her moving around downstairs, knocking things over and running up the steps back to her room. Why can she never be quiet! I bemoaned angrily, throwing off my sheets and stomping upstairs to insist she go back to sleep at once.

            Once up there, I looked around the room, and at her bed, both of which were devoid of her presence. “Get out here, Susanna!” I shouted, “You come out here right now, or so help me I’ll…” My voice trailed off immediately as I saw the sheets. They were made, and a thin layer of dust had accumulated on them. Why? Oh. She’s probably at her mother’s house today. I immediately, but hesitantly, concluded, I must be too tired. Too much deskwork. Now, what day is it? But at that moment, a ring resounded from the doorbell downstairs.

            Upon answering it, I was met by a solemn policeman, who stood with the rain drenching is coat and hat. “I apologize to wake you.” The policeman stated with a hurried and frantic step to his voice. “There’s been an incident around your area.”

            Interesting. “What kind, sir?”

            “A kidnapping.” He responded. “A young girl. Six or seven years old, by family description.” As he talked, a figure appeared behind him, a shadow, the very one that had stood in the doorway just moments ago. “If I recall correctly, her name was-”

            “Susanna!”

            “Yes… that’s it.” The policeman looked surprised. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

            As the shadow disappeared, I understood, and I remembered. Shaking my head and dismissing the policeman, I closed the door of my manor. For good.

 

Author's Note

My first horror, as always, feel free to rate or comment.