My parents were constantly busy. They owned a successful art gallery and were always away in town, meeting with buyers and holding exhibitions. Considering how little I saw of them, I find myself surprised they even had time to have me at all.
They were usually able to be home three or four days a week. This number would increase or decrease depending on how hectic work at the gallery was. This meant I went through a literal slog of babysitters.
None of them ever seemed to like me much. I was a very quiet, low-maintenance kid. I only talked when talked to, ate my meals when I was asked, and went to bed without a single complaint every time. Whether the babysitters just got bored with me or found my inexplicable complacency unnerving, I was never sure.
Given how fast the turnover rate was, I was never really able to build a relationship with any of them. I see them now as just a blur of bright colors, awful 80’s haircuts, and faint scents of cigarettes and pot.
There was one, however, that managed to hold out longer than the others. Nina was nineteen, home for the summer from college, and very eager to please. She had bright red hair and always wore day-glo colors. Though outfits changed one item remained constant: her canary-yellow Converse. No matter the weather, hair style, or color combination, those shoes never left her feet.
I liked her a lot. She knew the right things to say to me to get me talking. She was very easy to talk to and was always interested in whatever I had to say. Sure, sometimes we watched movies and remained silent for long periods of time, but it was never awkward.
Nina was the closest I got to having a constant in my life besides my parents. She started babysitting me in May. Her last job would be in late August of the same year.
I remember the last day she came like it was yesterday. It had been overcast, the gray clouds turning darker and darker as the day wore on. By the time four o’clock rolled around they had burst, releasing a downpour like no other I had ever seen. I spent the hour up until 5:00, staring out the window while they hurriedly dressed upstairs.
Right on schedule, Nina walked in the door at 4:45. “Hey, Kyle!” she slung off her raincoat and stamped her Converse on the mat just inside the door. “It’s pretty stormy out there. This is the perfect weather for watching movies!”
She came up and stood by me, next to the window. “This weather’s perfect for a horror flick.” She said, turning to me and grinning. We both knew she wasn’t supposed to play horror movies for me, but we dutifully ignored the rules.
Mom and Dad left soon after that, kissing me goodbye. We ate cold leftover pasta for dinner and then sat down to watch Halloween. Nina had smuggled the VHS in under her raincoat, and it looked a little soaked.
“Will that affect the quality?” I asked as she popped it in.
She grinned. “It doesn't matter as long as it scares you.”
I must admit the movie did end up freaking me out a little. By the time it was over it was almost 8:00. I had an hour left before bed. Outside, the storm had gotten worse. The winds had really picked up by that point, sending branches and leaves tumbling across the yard.
We sat there, playing Monopoly, while the clock ticked closer. At 8:45, I began to hear something. Over the sound of the roaring wind and the rain drumming on the roof, a dull, scraping noise could be heard. It was faint, to be sure, but definitely there. I paused, about the throw the dice, and listened.
The muffled quality seemed to indicate that the sound was coming from outside. Sure enough, there was a low scraping noise followed by a thump. Like someone dragging something across concrete.
“You okay, Kyle?” Nina asked, sitting up and brushing her hair behind her ear. “Do you hear that?” I asked, listening intently again. She did the same and a frown came over her face. “That’s weird.”
She got up and walked over to the back door that lead to the patio. Peering out through the rivers of rainwater that ran down the glass, I heard her gasp, followed by a light chuckle. “Come look at this.” She said, pointing.
I got up and stood beside her. The high winds were slowly pushing a flimsy wooden chair Dad had forgotten to put away before the storm across the concrete. With one final gust it toppled over into the yard, landing in the wet grass.
The clock chimed then, indicated that it was 9:00. A bright flash of lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the yard and living room with hot white light. Nina’s Converse flashed in the gloom.
“Time for bed, bucko. Go upstairs and brush your teeth and put on your PJs.”
A few minutes later, I climbed into bed. I could hear the wind whistling eerily around the eaves of the house. The rain continued to pelt the window. I reached over and turned on my lamp.
Nina walked in and put her hands on her hips. She walked over and turned off the light. “Kyle, you need to go to bed. If your parents come home and you’re up, they’ll kill me.” I nodded and turned over. “Goodnight.” I said shakily, still feeling creeped out from the sounds.
“Goodnight.” She said, turning and walking out, shutting the door behind her.
I don’t know how long I lay there in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the storm outside. At some point I became dimly aware of another sound, just underneath the wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. In my tired state, I didn’t have time to identify it before I drifted off.
When I awoke again, the room was dark. I had a fleeting thought that maybe I had gone blind, but a sudden flash of lightning disproved that.
The power had gone out.
My digital clock sat on my nightstand, cold and dark. I listened carefully for any sounds coming from downstairs, but heard nothing. Had Mom and Dad returned and gone to bed?
I carefully slipped out and walked into the hallway. It was somehow darker in there. Dad kept all the flashlights in a drawer in the kitchen. If I hoped to see anything, I had to go get one.
The wall clock ticked methodically as I walked down the hallway. I squinted, but couldn’t see the time. Another flash of lightning sent beams shooting up the stairs in front of me, making it look like I was stepping down into a giant glow stick.
I paused at the top. The sounds of the storm had definitely quieted down, although they were still loud. Straining my ears, I listened.
Nothing.
“Nina?” I called out weakly, not wanting to wake her, my parents, or whoever happened to be home. Looking behind me, I peered in through the door to the master bedroom, which stood ajar. The bed was made and no one slept in it. That meant Nina was there.
So why hadn’t she answered me?
She’s just asleep. I told myself. She fell asleep on the couch and that’s why she didn’t hear you.
It did little to comfort me.
I quickly ran down the stairs, being as quiet as I could. Before turning and running into the arch that lead to the kitchen, I looked into the living room.
All the curtains were drawn, leaving it almost pitch black. Even the flashes behind the dense fabric did little to illuminate the space.
As I retrieved the flashlights, more intrusive thoughts invaded my head. Why would Nina close all the curtains? She likes to watch storms.
Maybe she left early, to get home before the storm gets bad again. Mom and Dad will be home any second.
It was then that a small rustling noise emerged from the darkness on the other side of the arch. Like someone moving a curtain.
Or something.
A draft. A draft moved the curtains. That’s all there is to it.
I stepped back into the living room. Part of me wanted to just forget it all and run back upstairs to my room, hide under my covers, and not come out until dawn. The other part wanted to know what had happened to Nina.
In the end, the latter won out. I’m not sure, to this day, if I made the right decision.
“Nina?” I called out again. A louder rustling filled the air, like someone moving quickly past. Taking a deep breath, I clicked on the light.
The bright beam stung my eyes, and it took a few seconds for me to adjust. Once they did, I stared at the curtains covering the window that looked out onto the backyard.
Nina’s yellow Converse, and a small part of her ankles, peeked out of the bottom. They hung loosely, dangling and swaying six inches above the floor like they had no life in them.
Was she sitting on the windowsill?
I thought about calling out again, but stopped myself. Maybe...maybe she wanted to get a better look at the storm. She sat behind the curtains so she could focus on nothing but. In any case, I had to find out what was wrong.
I took a few quick steps forward before something cracked under my feet. Swinging the beam down again, I saw I had stepped on the VHS of Halloween. It had cracked in places, little shards of black plastic littering the floor. Cursing silently, I pulled the light back up.
I watched as Nina’s legs were slowly pulled upwards behind the curtain. I don’t mean like she was sitting up, putting both feet on the windowsill.They raised slackly until they had disappeared.
I froze for a few seconds, blinking, trying to understand if what I had just seen was real or just a figment of my imagination. More rustling came from behind me, but I ignored it as I rushed forward, pulling the curtains aside.
There was nothing there.
I turned again, swinging the beam around wildly. Another pair stuck out from underneath the couch. Deep down I knew the space was too small to hide her, but that didn’t stop me. I rushed forward and grabbed the shoes, pulling the other way, with all my might.
I felt resistance. Crying out in relief, I walked backwards, attempting to drag her out from underneath the couch.
But it wouldn’t stop.
The further I walked back, the further the legs extended. Even as I crossed the room, hitting my back against the wall, they kept going. The Converse were still clasped in my hands, but her legs stretched all the way across the room, I counted at least seven pairs of knees and ankles.
I cried out and threw them to the floor. They suddenly began to kick, jumping and thrashing about, before being pulled quickly back under the couch, like someone closing a tape measure.
I turned and ran back towards the stairs. My room was at the end of the hall, but it seemed longer. Every step seemed like I was no closer than the last. The doors began to swing open and shut as I passed, hands reaching out, nails painted yellow like Nina’s were. They slammed on the hands, making sickening cracks and opening wounds. The blood pattered like rain ont on the carpet.
Even as I ran out of doors to pass, the arms continued coming after me, growing longer and longer as they reached out of the shadows, rearing above my head and scraping the hallway ceiling.
Finally, I sailed through the door to my room and shut it, gasping and crying. I jolted forward and locked it, falling to the floor and scrambling backwards against my bed.
The nails began to scratch at the door, irritated and impatient. The sound crawled downward until two pairs of fingers suddenly reached from under the crack and began scraping on the interior. I yelled and jumped onto my bed, grabbing whatever I could and throwing it at them.
All at once the fingers grew as well, snaking and extending up the frame until they were eight feet long, beating rhythmically against the wood. The many joints cracked and popped. The storm wailed outside, jumping in intensity like someone had flipped a switch. The lightning cast wild shadows on the wall, catching the spidery fingers in its bright glow. Rain pelted the window like bullets.
I fell backwards, tumbling off the band and landing hard on the floor. My head cracked against the bottom edge of my dresser and I saw stars. Rolling, I ended on my stomach, eyes cast under the bed. I saw points of yellow deep in the darkness under there. Eyes.
No...they weren’t eyes. They were nails. Yellow fingernails reaching, extending out of the expanding blackness to crush me in their grip. A hand with too many fingers wrapped itself like a serpent over my ankle. As I was dragged under the bed, the darkness took me.
That’s where my parents found me, hours later. The storm had knocked down a tree in front of a main road in town, causing my parents to be delayed in their return. Once I was lucid enough I began screaming, yelling at them about Nina and the fingers and the thing that was in our house.
Worried looks crossed their faces and they ran through the house, looking in every nook and cranny. They found nothing.
It was then that they realized they had no idea where Nina was.
They asked me what had happened to her, but all I could muster was incoherent babbles about the things I had seen. They tried her cell phone. No answer. They tried her house. Her mother said she hadn’t returned home or even called. It was as if she had just disappeared.
A few days later I was calmed down enough to tell my parents everything that had happened. They were skeptical at best, telling me I must have had a terrible nightmare.
The police began an investigation. They took my statement and my parents’ statements. A search of the house turned up few, if any clues. The back door was unlocked and ajar, a cigarette stub with flecks of yellow nail polish on it found crushed into the concrete.
The best they could do was say that Nina had gone outside during a lull in the storm to smoke and either got overtaken by it again or simply left. Neither of those explanations seemed plausible, she was a kind, devoted person who never would have left me alone on purpose.
They did, however, find two pairs of yellow Converse underneath the couch in the living room. At the sight of this I began to freak out again, but my parents shushed me and told me that she must have brought a backup pair. I tried to ask them why she would go out in the storm barefoot, but in the end I tried to convince myself that everything that had happened was a combination of a nightmare and terrible coincidences.
We moved out of that house soon after. The art gallery really took off and they moved it to a larger space a few towns away.
I thought about Nina. She had been the only babysitter that really seemed to care about me. I refused to let my memories of the night of the storm taint the good ones I shared with her. Gradually, though, she faded from my mind, like most things do when you stop thinking about them constantly.
It wasn’t until a year later that they found her body. It was a half-mile away, hacked and shoved under the exposed roots of a large tree that had somehow escaped detection during the search for her.
On her feet were her yellow Converse.
Submitted July 07, 2018 at 04:13PM by Discord_and_Dine https://ift.tt/2MXeLQW
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