Whispers In The Dark

“I’m standing at the side of a bog. There is fog everywhere.  I keep feeling like someone is watching me but I can’t see anyone. I go to leave and someone grabs me by the shoulders and throws me into the water. I hit my head on a tree root and start sinking. I can almost make out the face of my attacker but the water blurs everything. Then everything goes black.”

My therapist keeps her eyes on me. I’ve told her this dream so many times she must have it memorized. Her original theories had always involved either a childhood trauma or me subconsciously succeeding in my last year’s suicide attempt.  Now she was blaming my upcoming move to the house my mother inherited. She thought that I was dreaming my death as my own way of coping with leaving my current school and all of my friends. I kindly reminded her that I have no friends and that schoolwork doesn’t change with a building. My therapist always was amused with my whit. However she kept pushing the idea of my dream getting worse as our moving date grew closer. I was thankful when our session ended.

It is a huge relief moving into this house. Being raised by a single mom is never easy and money has always been tight. Currently we live in a one bedroom apartment where my mother sleeps on the couch and works three jobs just to be able to pay all of our bills and have some food.  I never met my father or anyone in his family so when we had received a call from an attorney telling my mother that my father’s brother had passed and left his house to us, we didn’t even know if we should believe the news. We went to the meeting anyway and learned my uncle really was trying to make up for his brother’s failed attempt to care for his b*****d child and teenaged girlfriend. And now here we are just days away from starting on our new life.

I struggled with my hesitations and excitement up until we pulled into the driveway. The drive was dirt and stretched over a mile from where we left the main road to where it ended in a turnaround. Centered at the top of the arc was a terracotta cobble stone path leading straight to the open porch of the tree engulfed bungalow. The vines of the willows cascaded over the roof and partially covered some windows. The porch was furnished with twin rockers and with a braided rug serving as a welcome mat. It was quaint and I liked it, despite the fact that something about it was giving me chills.

My mother wasted no time unpacking. There were a few bits of furniture left from my uncle’s start of his move which was nice since we then had the option of tossing our old tattered couch. The inside of our new home was easy to navigate. We entered into a massive common area which also included our kitchen and dining areas. The room to our left next to the fireplace was the one my mother decided to occupy. Mine was directly across from hers with our only bathroom being a door up. It was simple which served us well.

As much as I had wanted to explore the grounds I dedicated myself to perfecting my bedroom. The task was tedious but made time fly as well as distracted me from my anxiety of starting in a new school first thing in the morning. I remembered all too well the things I endured at my last school and as much as this place was a blessing to us, I didn’t expect all that much to change.

I spent my night awake. I was being overrun with so many emotions that I was unable to calm my brain. By 3 AM I decided to take a steaming hot shower with the hopes that sleep could take over with the assistance of relaxed muscles. My theory proved correct when the hot droplets cascading over me nearly had me sleeping standing up. I decided that was enough especially since I only had a small window of opportunity left for sleep. I dressed quickly then used my forearm to wipe the mirror so I could see myself brushing my hair. I never got that far. There in the mirror stood a reflection that wasn't my own. She was fair like me and had the same brunette waves and amber eyes but the girl's face was definitely not mine. I gasped and stepped backwards, slipping on the wet floor. i scrambled back to my feet only to come face to face with my own reflection in the same mirror. Convinced that my fatigue had won the battle, I went to my room and took advantage of the few hours I had.

Of course, I dreamt again.

Being plagued by my eerie recurring dream was the only reason I was glad morning came. I had started getting used to viewing my own death but last night something was different. There was a name but for the life of me I couldn't remember it. I tried to shake it off and mentally prepare myself for my fresh start at a new school. I dressed in jeans, boots, a t-shirt and unzipped sweatshirt; my usual. My only condolence was that no one here knew me or my story. This almost gave me a sense of hope.

Despite my exhaustion school was easy to keep up with since my current lessons were a week behind my previous school. Oddly enough a few peers invited me to sit wth them at lunch. As much as it peeved me, I had to admit I was glad to have that "new car smell".  There were two girls, Alexa and Katja, and one boy, Jeremy. Alexa and Jeremy were fraternal twins and Katja was the daughter of a Russian mail order bride and a computer geek. With them, I didn't feel so distinguished as an oddity. Since we all lived near each other we made arrangements to walk home as a group. I was surprised by my own enthusiasm.

Thankfully the rest of the day passed quickly and soon enough the four of us were on our way discussing our interests, family lives and any other random subject that would pop up. Alexa and Katja talked incessantly and at times got aggravated by my short answers. Jeremy was quiet but would softly chuckle when it was evident that I was frustrating the other two. For a second, I actually thought me and him would get along really well. 

The casual enjoyment came to an abrupt halt once we reached the turn off for my drive. 

"You live in the old McKreen house?" ,Katja shyly asked.

"I guess. I'm not from here remember? Why?", I snapped.

Alexa jumped in, "it's nothing, just didn't know it was for sale is all."

I informed them that we had inherited it from my uncle who died shortly after he purchased it. I saw each one of them shift their eyes before they gave their goodbyes. Lesson learned; it doesn't matter where you live, someone will always find something about you to turn into some sort of diseased thinking. With nothing left to do I shrugged my shoulders and headed towards my house.

The cycle of school, our group walks, and my nightly dreams continued for weeks. By the time a month had passed I considered the dreams such a common part of my life I didn't even acknowledge them anymore. Then one night it all changed.

Jeremy had asked me to the movies and coming home after, I spent my evening floating around my room too entranced to even consider sleep. He was always who I felt closest to and for him to end our night by asking me to be his, I felt like I had died during  the life I had just a few hours prior and was born into this new sensation that made Heaven look like meager common ground. Somehow, even in all my ecstacy, sleep did find me. So did a new dream.

I was at the bog again but instead of seeing it head on it was on my right as I walked down a wooded path towards an area that looked like a partial shelter built from woven twigs and overhanging branches. In the far left corner there was a small tree stump where the roots were disconnected. I rolled the stump on it's side and started lifting the earth until I found a small red leather bound book.

I woke the next morning with mud on my feet, hands, and bedding. The book was in my hands.

“It was a dream. It was a dream. This isn’t real.”

Panic stricken, I jumped out of bed. The book fell to the ground but I was too horrified to pick it up. I raced out of my room to look for any evidence that last night was either real or imagined. I checked everywhere in our home, there was no mud; no dirt; no nothing.  Outside the front door there were no footprints. Did we even have a bog on our property?

Frustrated, I went back into my room, slammed my door and slid down it until I was crouched on my knees.  When I glanced over I noticed the book wasn’t on the floor anymore. It was now laying on my desk with its pages being flipped by the breeze from my open window. My window, Of course! I hurried over to peer out and found my tracks.  I climbed out and followed them into the woods. I lost track of how far I had walked but in time I came upon the very bog that had been plaguing my dreams for months now. An uneasy feeling crept over me. I was being watched. The memory of my original dream washed over me. My eyes were darting everywhere. This can’t be it. I can’t die.

My breathing quickened and my heart raced. I turned to run. Then I felt the hand on my shoulder. I started to scream and try to claw it off. I was in hysterics by the time my brain registered the voice.

“Jeremy. Oh my God. Jeremy.”

“Morgan. Look I didn’t mean to scare you. I figured you saw me. Why are you acting like I’m some sort of axe murderer?” 

“What are you doing here?”, I countered too shaken up  still to explain my dreams.

“I like to come here when I’m feeling lonely. I don’t know why but I’ve always felt a comfort here. That is until I get mauled.”

He chuckled. I offered to have him come to my house to care for the cuts I left and he agreed. We spent all afternoon talking and he even decided to stay for dinner and meet my mother. I had forgotten all about my strange morning and even how my previous life was. Towards the end of the evening though, my curiosity kicked in on the topic of my house’s history. After a half hour of dodging the subject he went home. Now I had no choice, I had to read the book.

The book turned out to be the diary of a sixteen year old girl named Isabel from the mid seventeen hundreds. I had only been able to read a few entries when I heard someone pacing the living room. My mother had left well over an hour ago to go to another job. Hesitantly, I grabbed the utility knife off my dresser and opened my door.  My first instinct was to call out for Jeremy thinking it was a joke, but there was no reply. Nor did the sound stop. As I stood in the living room the sound of laughter began to accompany the footsteps. I knew full well by now that I was alone. I listened closely to the laughter to determine the gender. Definitely female. 

“Isabel?”, I called in spite of myself. The laughter stopped but was replaced by the running water of the bathtub. I ran into the bathroom to find the room filled with steam and one word written in the condensation on the mirror: Morgan. By now I am gasping. What is going on? My eyes are transfixed on my name however this doesn’t stop me from seeing the figure appear behind me. Needing validation I turn to face it head on. What I see is the girl I saw my first night. She could be my twin. Shaking I asked if she was Isabel. She hangs her head while  she says yes. Her head snaps up as she pleads for help then vanishes as quickly as she appeared. 

As the days pass these occurrences become more common and because of this I’ve begun to withdraw from everyone. My biggest surprise came when Jeremy started to come around more often which was the complete opposite of my expectations. I finally started to confide in him about my dreams and the strange occurrences I was experiencing. He told me about the rumors of my house and even gave me the courage to delve deeper into Isabel’s diary.

Together we learned about Isabel and her sister Eleanor. Their mother had died during Eleanor’s birth and afterwards, their father’s incestuous obsession with Isabel and the things he did to her. We learned about Jonathan and Theodore Dobbson, the wealthy brothers that were the love interest of the McKreen girls. Eleanor had been married off to the eldest brother Theodore. Isabel was forbidden to marry due to her fathers torment however she and Jonathan remained secret lovers. 

In her diary Isabel would recount their love and the dangers that came with it, especially those of Eleanor’s jealousy since she herself was in love with Jonathan. Isabel went on about how Eleanor blamed her for being the reason she was with Theodore  instead of Jonathan. Eleanor’s jealousy eventually drove them apart.

Jeremy held me close as we kept reading. A shiver went through me and he pulled me even closer. That’s when the laughter started again. We both jumped and Jeremy kept himself positioned in front of me as if he could protect me.

“She’s angry”, I whispered.

“Who? Isabel?”

“No. Eleanor. She’s angry because we are together.”

“Morgan that’s crazy. We have nothing to do with this.”

“We have everything to do with this Jeremy”, I yelled, “I look exactly like Isabel!”

The laughter stopped. All was still and quiet. Then the scraping began. It was outside my room on the walls. Jeremy and I were terrified. It was right outside my door now. It got louder and louder. We stood with our eyes fixed on the door, waiting.

Isabel appeared in front of our faces. The fear caused me and Jeremy to step backwards where we stumbled over the foot of my bed. Isabel let out a blood curling scream right before my door burst into my room clean off its hinges. There in the hallway read the words “not this time”.

I don’t remember leaving the house. All I know was that we ran and now I am feeling it. Jeremy paced back and forth in front of the couch I was resting on. The crackling of the fireplace cause me to startle incessantly, reminding me that all of my experiences were real. Finally Jeremy called for Alexa. She strutted down the stairs angry to be disrupted but once she saw me she froze. She automatically knew what was happening. Jeremy took a seat next to me. Alexa began:

Your uncle and my father have been friends since childhood. My father insisted your uncle purchase you house the second it came on the market. Jeremy was sent over to assist in the move. It was when Jeremy was unpacking a box and your photo fell out that all of these strange things started happening. Your uncle told Jeremy all about you and well, he became hooked. Soon after, objects would be in a different location other than where they were left and I started having these weird dreams. 

We all sat down with my father to do some research on your house and learned that the father of the two girls had murdered a local boy for being involved with his eldest daughter who then took her own life by drowning herself in the bog. The creepy part was that from the pictures we saw, you, Jeremy, and the lovers look identical. Your uncle had a heart attack shortly after we learned this.

I sat quiet for a bit. So much didn’t make sense. Even after being shown the printed articles there were fragments from Isabel’s diary that contradicted the findings. When I spoke up about this Alexa’s eyes widened.

“How did you find her diary?”

“It was in a dream.”

“Tell me about it.”

I did. And of the one where I was killed. Alexa couldn’t understand how I knew this since she had always believed in order to be connected to the dead you had to be either a descendant, psychic, or near death yourself.

“I was near death. I attempted suicide last year. I had actually bled out to the point where the doctors couldn’t figure out how I was even alive still.”

Alexa and Jeremy were stunned but still asked about the diary. I had explained how I read Isabel’s theory. How her father was with her when Jonathan was murdered; the way Eleanor smiled as they watched their father being lynched. There was even a passage on Theordore confiding in Isabel about what he believed about Eleanor’s erratic behavior. 

We were all too frightened to do much but stay in the living room that night.  Alexa had no trouble falling asleep but Jeremy and I couldn’t do much more than stare at the fire. I clutched Isabel’s diary for life, surprised at myself that I felt the need to grab it before leaving my house. Sensing my fear Jeremy pulled me close to him. “We’ll be okay”, he said before kissing me. The kiss was short, impromptu, but led into more stronger, passionate ones. The moans from his lips gave way to one word which froze the blood inside of me.

“Why would you say that?”, I yelled, “Why would you call me Isabel?”

“I’m sorry Morgan. It must have just stuck in my brain from earlier.” 

His eyes met mine. The moment of longing turned to one of terror. Where there had once been pale blue eyes now sat the very same amber eyes I saw on me and Isabel. But these eyes were cold, dead cold, and had nothing behind them; just soulless empty eyes.

“Eleanor”, I managed to squeak before Jeremy’s hands found my throat. I was forced back onto the couch, my arms and legs scrambling for a way to find release. I managed to slide my leg under and use my knee the only effective way on a male attacker. With Jeremy on the ground I raced out the door. The evening fog made it almost impossible to see where I was running. I could hear Isabel’s voice trying to direct me. I started yelling back at her.

“It’s your diary! She’s trapped in your diary because it holds her secrets! Why would you make me find that?”

“I didn’t”

“So Eleanor did?”

“You’re half in death, anyone can find you”

“But why? She killed Jonathan. She had your father killed. What does she get?”

“Jonathan”

“JONAHTAN’S DEAD!”

“Not this time”

I understood then. My memory from the hospital came back. 

I laid on the bed hemorrhaging. I had too many wounds, the doctors couldn’t stop the bleeding. Everything started to fade. The clock was the last thing I saw before my eyes shut. It stopped. Everything stopped. I felt suspended in time and space. I opened my eyes when I felt the crash. Doctor’s were scurrying at the hope of progress. The clock never changed.

I felt a crash now as I slid down the rocky hill. I had lost my footing. A new image came to me as I scrambled to my feet. I was at the bog. There was no sound anymore. The fog encased us hindering my sight. I whimpered Isabel’s name hoping for some guidance. I still didn’t hear or see anything. I remembered my dream. It flashes through my mind but then changes. I now see the Dobbson’s and McKreen’s. I see the births, the deaths.  I see Eleanor’ wedding. I see the love between Jonathan and Isabel.

I grow cold as just as the images turn. I see Eleanor raising the pistol that kills Jonathan. I see the crooked smile on her face as she touches her father’s lifeless body. I see the sisters talking, Isabel’s terror written on her face.

“Isabel, did she kill you too?”, I whisper.

“Yes”, says Jeremy’s voice before I feel his strength on my shoulders. The water gets closer to me. I try to break free but my foot gets tangled in a tree root causing me to lose my balance. I turn as I fall, hitting my head on a rock on the bank. The numbing of the water gives way to the blood seeping from my skull. Through the blurring of the water I see Jeremy standing there watching me sink deeper and deeper. Around him are Eleanor’s arms, caressing him gently as praise for his job well done.

In death time ceases to exist. All that remain is memories and emotions. True vengeance lies in the promises we whisper in the dark to ourselves. The desires we crave so desperately we will stop at nothing to obtain.

And Eleanor finally got her Jonathan.