Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Epilogue
I was, of course, afraid to be in my room after that, but at the same time, what could I do? I couldn't tell my Dad about the braids. He'd just think I had made it all up, and was just using it to scare myself. Even if I did tell him, what was he going to do about it? Order my hair to not be braided?
In the end, it was the dumbest thing that got me back up there. My book was there, and I wanted it.
You have to understand about me and books. I'm kind of a bibliophile. I've got over a thousand of them, and counting, and yes, I've read nearly all of my collection. As a teen, I could walk through the house with my nose in a book, enter the kitchen and prepare myself a snack without putting the book down, and carry the snack back up to my room, find my seat, and sit in it, all without missing a step, tripping, or otherwise screwing it up. My dad used to joke that I should have a book in front of my face in family photos so everyone would recognize me.
I screwed up my courage and crept back up the stairs with my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I was terrified. In my mind, every monster, demon, boogie man, and ghost I'd ever read about, heard about or imagined must be in my room right now.
...but I wanted that book, and I had a plan. Nothing untoward had occurred outside that room. Only in there had I encountered any strangeness. I was going to get ready outside the door. I'd fling it open, run in, get my book, and run back out before anything weird could happen. If there was something nasty on the other side of the door - like what? my inner, more adult rational voice asked... there is nothing there - but if there was, I'd just slam the door shut and go get Dad.
I may have been "mature" enough to realize that one should not paralyze one's self with fear over imaginary things, but I guess I was still childish enough to think of my father as an all-powerful force.
I stood outside the door and listened.
Nothing.
I waited.
Still nothing.
I opened the door a crack, and peeked in.
The room was as I had left it. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing was disturbed. I walked in and strode over to the bean bag, bent down, and grabbed my book. Even that was in the same posi...
...no, it lay closed on the floor. In it was a bookmark... a crisp, pretty wide pink ribbon.
I looked around the room. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Nothing. But my skin was as tight as new sheets on an over-sized mattress. I bolted out of the room, slammed the door shut, and flew down the stairs. Seriously, I swear I didn't touch a single step on the way down.
I sat in the family room and stared at the ribbon for a few moments, then began to rationalize. Maybe it was something that had been in my room all along. It was pretty messy in there. Maybe I grabbed it without thinking and put it into the book. Otherwise, where else would it have come from? Certainly something scary and otherworldly couldn't be coming into my room to terrify me with pink ribbons, for crying out loud! I rose and went to the kitchen to make myself some hot chocolate.
Yeah, that's what I needed. Hot chocolate, and my book. And proximity to my family, who I knew were really there.
The sound of the television was comforting. Dad was watching some old war movie. My brother Seth was outside. I could hear him and the guys playing some kind of battle game. Between the two, I had just enough background noise to totally zone out. By the time Mom got home, I was so deep into the book I was reading that I didn't even notice her coming into the house.
It wasn't until almost bedtime that I realized how badly I didn't want to go back into my room. I began to try to think of ideas on how to be allowed to spend the night in the family room. Maybe if I pretended to fall asleep on the couch...
"Sarah, wake up. You'll be stoved up like an old lady if you sleep there. Go to your room."
Crap.
I felt like such a baby, scared to go into my room in the dark. Part of me wanted to tell my mother everything, from the creepy lady at the garage sale to the ribbon in my book. Maybe she would get me some mental help. I must be losing my mind, right? That was the only reasonable, adult explanation. I must have had those ribbons in my room the whole time, must have braided my own hair and forgotten about it, must have absentmindedly grabbed the scrap piece of ribbon left over to use as a bookmark, all because I'd let myself become so absorbed into the book I was reading. I was letting my imagination run away with me.
So why was I so scared? Why did my feet get heavier with every step up that narrow stairway? Why was my heart pounding in my chest, my breath short, and my jaw set so tightly as I headed for my room? Grow up, Sarah. Jeez.
I put my hand on the doorknob. I had to fight with myself to make my hand turn it, and push the door open. On the other side was a perfectly normal, though horribly messy, nerdy teenage girl's room, with clothes hanging from the bedposts and the back of the chair by the desk, shoes on the floor, half finished craft projects all over the room, and books, papers, and floppy disks all around the computer on the desk.
No scary monsters. No boogieman. No strangely dressed old woman carrying a huge bible, momentarily seen out of the corner of my eye in the mirror.
Well, at least, she wasn't there when I looked directly at it.
I didn't see that. I didn't see that. I didn't see that. I didn't see that. Really.
I wondered if Mom would hear me if I sneaked downstairs in the middle of the night?
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Epilogue
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