04 – Daniella

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“That dog’s been following me,” Chris said. “Wherever I go I see him. He’s probably watching now.”

“So where is he then?” Chuck said, holding a hand over his eyes and making a scene of searching the room. “Here boy, come on!” He whistled and patted his lap.

“Try looking out the window.”

“Not now,” The Caretaker said, handing out brooms, “help me get everything off the floor first. Sweep it into that corner. Start from the edges of the room.”

The children did as he said, except Chuck, McQueen and Hagman. The Caretaker stood behind them, arms folded until they became aware he was there, at which point they shovelled the mess on the floor at double the pace of the others. The slowest of the group was Daniela, who had the misfortune of welding the largest broom. Seeing the size of it, Chuck walked over, snatched it from her hands and dumped his by her feet.

“I suppose you have a tale to tell, too?” he said.

Everyone glanced in her direction and she nodded.

“Actually,” she said, “I do.”

Daniella’s Story

When my mother was a wee lass back in Aberdeen, she and her friends had a custom they performed each Halloween. Before I went to bed last night, she decided to show me.

“The clock’s gone midnight,” mother said, “so it’s technically Halloween now.”

She lit a fire after opening all the windows, and soaked a sheet in the bath. It was still dripping when she hung it across the fire and turned off the lights. Then she sat me down next to her and told me to concentrate.

“The shadows cast upon the wet sheet will determine what your future husband will be like,” she said.

At first there was nothing but an orange glow behind it, but soon the warmth of the fire made ripples across its surface.

“Here me, O Spirits,” mother chanted. “Show me the form of my truest love.”

And as if responding to her call, the sheet fluttered. The image of a tall man appeared, fleeting, gone in a second but there was no mistaking it was father. Mother stood and told me to repeat what she’d said, but as this was my first time, I had to do it alone.

“Why?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Tradition, lass. Tradition.”

She left the room and I turned back to the sheet. “Here me, O Spirits, show me the form of my truest love.”

As expected, nothing happened.

“Here me, O Spirits, show me the form of my truest love!”

The sheet rippled again and this time a tall shadow appeared. If he was a man, his arms and legs were impossibly long. Another ripple cast another shadow, and what appeared to be a top hat flickered where his head had been.

“Mother, I’m marrying the Monopoly man,” I said.

Mother came back in with a mug of cocoa and handed it to me.

“You’re marrying who?”

“He was taller and skinnier than the Monopoly man in the game, but he did have a top hat on.”

“Well it’s about time someone in our family married into money:”

I turned back to the sheet. “Hey, Spirits, will we be happy?”

Mother left to get her own mug, but turned at the door. “Don’t be asking the Spirits all those daft questions,” she said, “you’ll ruin the surprise, and besides, it’s up to you to make your own happiness, not some man.”

“Then what’s the point of them then?”

“Not a day goes by I don’t ask myself the same question.”

The sheet fluttered again, only this time, the shadow appeared thinner. Another flutter and he lost more weight. Then the sheet flitted quickly and I glanced behind it. The fire was going out. A strange wind blew down the chimney.

The shadow on the sheet grew thinner still, until there was no mistaking the form it took was bare bones. A skeleton, dropping bones off one by one as the firelight grew less, until all that was left was the skull.

And it was a skull. I wasn’t interpreting what I saw. It was the shadow of a skull and it was growing bigger. I called for mother to come quickly.

“Give me a moment, dear, I’m making my tea.”

“Mother, it’s getting bigger.”

“All right, I’m coming.”

The ten steps between the kitchen and the living room echoed like heartbeats in my ears, too slow and far away. The skull grew until it took up the entire sheet, its eyes and mouth burning brighter than the whole sheet had a few minutes before, and when it could grow no more, it opened its jaw.

Razor sharp teeth parted and the sheet glowed white, and as mother entered the room it burst into flames.

“Mercy!’ she cried and tore the sheet down, shoving it into the fireplace. It crinkled, curled up and blackened quickly, dousing the fire with its still soaked corners.

“Now I remember why we stopped doing this,” Mother said. “You’d never guess how many houses burned down in Aberdeen every Halloween.”

I shook my head. “I saw a skull, mother. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know lass. I don’t know.”

She hurried from the room, murmuring something that might have been “My poor child.” She didn’t look back at me or offer anything else.

I knew she was lying.