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Corrine woke up. The sunlight in her room was overwhelming and bright. It made her feel at home immediately. She smiled at a few birds playing in the tree at her window. She took in her surroundings. The room was painted a cheerful peach. She remembered her promise, and decided to call this home.
A hysterical scream shook the house. Jason jumped up from his comfortable reading chair.
"What? What is it?" He looked around him frantically, thinking of all sorts of disasters; fire, disease, or worse. Corrine might have taken a bad turn. His wife, blonde hair disheveled, appeared at the top of the stairs.
"It's Corrine!" She shouted. "Our Corrine is back!"
Corrine's blond parents both rushed to her room, where she was sitting up, making promise after promise.
"I'll be good," she said when she saw them. "I promise I'll be the best daughter you've ever had."
The spring day was beautiful. The sun shone, the birds twittered, the grass was very green. Two houses across the street from each other gazed sightlessly into the breathless beauty around them.
One house was ordinary. It was painted a cheerful apricot on the outside. The lawn had been neatly kept and the garden testified to the loving hand of its owner. Across the street the other house might have been jealous, if it had not been so impressed with its own gloom. It wasn't much bigger than the other house, but it tried to loom nonetheless. Its dark paint may have only been dirt accumulated over years of neglect—it was hard to tell. The garden, once beautiful, had been neglected. Everything had the air of heaviness about it.
Things were quiet for a while as the houses jealously guarded their secrets. The early morning sun promised later warmth. The birds continued twittering. A few clouds formed. Then there was life.
Anton was a not a big man. He was nevertheless proud of his stature; it fit in perfectly with his image as an interior designer. It also earned him numerous endearments with "little" in it. He smiled in anticipation as he got out of his red Porsche in front of Olivia Penn's new house. She was a wonderful client; not afraid to spend or to indulge. Her endearments usually centered on the phrase "my little Darling". How he loved that large woman. With a rather effeminate sigh Anton gave a little skip and walked through the spring air to the house. Never once did he give a thought to the other house. The one across the street.
After and hour or so of waiting and planning, Anton was standing outside Olivia's house again. He was puzzled. It has not been locked, so he went in. There was no sign of Olivia. Her bed was uncovered, and the previous night's dishes were still all over the kitchen counters. Olivia usually did her chores in the morning. Anton assumed at first that she had popped out for milk or something. So he walked through the house and planned what to say to Olivia about the glories of a grey and purple color scheme. After ten minutes he had become worried. And now he was severely stressed. He could feel his scalp tingle as if his hair was trying to stand on end, as he usually did when things went just a little wrong. Where was she?
When Anton closed the door softly and turned around, he saw the other house. The dark thing nearly spoke to him, or so he imagined. Out of nowhere he felt certain that he'd find Olivia in that house. Without hesitating to think about the rationality of what he was doing, Anton trotted lightly over the quiet street. The sun was beginning to heat up. The birds were singing a little louder. There were fewer clouds. The brightness outside made a sharp contrast with the inside that was revealed as Anton opened the heavy looking door of he house. He entered and it shut behind him. He jumped and gave a little screech.
Something screamed. It reverberated through the walls of the house. Anton screeched louder this time and bolted for the door. He opened it and was about to rush back outside to invite the sun back into his life. It was remarkably easy. Too easy. No. He would have to see. His most valued client might be in danger. He turned around and closed the door. Looking into the gloom of the house, Anton drew himself up to his full if inconsiderable height.
"Hold on Olivia," he called. "I'm on my way!"
Anton found himself in front of the only closed door in the house. He also found a war inside himself. He was desperately afraid; his fear growing with each step into the creepy house. He'd been hearing sounds. Mewing and screaming and moaning. And he feared that all those sounds had come from behind the closed door. Yet he was in so deep. And so he went in deeper.
The odor overcame him and he vomited in the stuffy room. Everything was blue. This sickened Anton further and he spewed some more of his guts to add some color to the screaming blue. It also added to the odor. Anton heard moaning from underneath the floor.
"Well," he spluttered through the sourness in his throat. "I suppose I can't stand here vomiting all day."
He crowned his statement with more retching. There was nothing left in his stomach, so he gave up and searched for a way into what he presumed to be a cellar.
It was damp and unpleasant; starkly contrasting with the dry brightness of the blue room above it. The vomit odor was even stronger down here. Anton made his way down the ladder into the dark and creepy dampness.
"I'm coming Olivia, don't worry," he whimpered. Everything was silent. There was an air of anticipation in the stillness.
Then something screamed. Anton thought he saw light in the distance, and hurried his way towards it. He suddenly tripped over something soft. He landed hard on his nose. He felt it starting to bleed.
"Damn," he said, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. It came away damp and warm, smelling of copper. Something rubbed against his raised forehead.
"Meww!" it said.
"Ugh, get away from me you horrid thing!"
He slapped at the cat and rose clumsily to his feet. He could still see the unsteady light. It looked like flames.
A girl was burning. She was screaming. Anton incredulously looked as her eyes swelled and popped, boiling liquid streaming down her charred and molten cheeks.
"Wait," he said. "Wait, I'll get someone."
Anton wondered what horror was going on here. He ran back the way he came to find something—water; firemen, anything to save the poor girl, for whom it was probably too late already. The little man bumped into his favorite client. She was smiling beautifully at him.
Anton stuttered for a while, trying to find words.
"Olivia, what...where? I was at your house... We were supposed... I've got this..."
Olivia laughed.
"Relax, Little Darling, " she said and smiled. "I found this place. I can save these people. I just saved Delia. But oh, I'm itching."
The burning girl screamed.
"Yes, I have to save her. Maxi, I think."
"Delia, for god's sake. Let's get the fire fighters before the whole place burns down."
Delia took both of Anton's hands.
"No. You don't understand." She let go of one hand to scratch her cheek, which was beginning to feel swollen. "I have to save her."
Before Anton could stop her, Olivia was hurrying towards the diminishing screams. Shrugging, Anton followed.
Olivia had her arms around the charred remains of the girl. Anton thought that she was dead. Nobody with so little flesh left on their bones could be alive. But she moved slightly. Olivia leaned close to her, as if trying to hear something. She looked up at Anton.
"She's thanking me," Olivia said. "It's not too late." Olivia's eyelids had begun to swell, and she was scratching at them with the hand that was not supporting the burned girl's head.
"It's okay, Dear," she crooned at the charred skeleton. "It's okay."
There was a scream in the distance. Maxi's flesh began to reconstitute itself. Slowly muscles began to form, fallen arteries began to fill with blood. Hair grew and a skin covered quivering red flesh. A beautiful dark-haired girl lay in Olivia's arms. She opened her dark eyes.
"Thank you," she told Olivia. "Thank you..."
Another scream, and Maxi vanished.
"See?" said Olivia to Anton. "I saved her. She is safe now. Just like Corrine; just like Delia. I am their savior. Now there's just..."
Olivia finished her speech with a little scream. A man was holding her from behind.
"I have to save you Maxi," said Steve, the girl's husband who burned her in the first place.
He laughed and vanished, leaving Olivia and Anton looking at each other. And Olivia was suddenly covered with flames. She looked around her. She looked at Anton, not understanding.
"Help!" she screamed at Anton.
"Help me!"
Anton rushed to the stepladder to look for a telephone in the house. There was no telephone. He tried to find something to fill with water. All he could find were cups and glasses. He rushed to the door. He had to find a phone. The door was locked. He tried to get out through the windows. They would not budge. He was trapped. And Olivia was burning to death.
Anton panicked. He screamed. Finally, he sat down with his back against the door. He could not stop the flood of images torturing his mind: Olivia's flesh melting from her bones. He thought he smelled her. Her eyes would pop open. The image of the thick, boiling liquid running down her cheeks made him retch again. Anton felt weak. He felt hopeless and sad.
"Help me," he said. Just before fainting, he thought he heard laughter. He was badly in need of salvation.
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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