Anniversary

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story for Halloween.

Submitted: October 14, 2014

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Submitted: October 14, 2014

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I remember when you first took me home on that cold day in October. The trees were just now changing colors, giving us a beautiful view of the oranges, reds, and golds that would preclude the coming of Autumn.

I was so happy when you decided that out of everyone else, it was me who you loved. Me, who was to be the source of your infinite affection; just thinking about it now makes me a little giddy sometimes. Sometimes, I even smile when you’re not looking and sometimes you catch me in the act. I know how surprised you can get when I do that, but then that smile creases your lips. A smile that melts away all of my doubts about our love.

I remember when you first took me home on that cold day in October. The first time your parents got a good look at me…heh, well we both know how that turned out. There was yelling, oh the horrible yelling. There was arguing of how your age was a factor to our relationship. But there I was, sitting through it all on the couch, waiting so patiently. Once your parents finally accepted my-they claim-unnerving presence, you were so happy. That smile of yours…that first night together was so cherished.

I remember the first time you showed me off to your friends. Like your parents, I knew they would be startled about our relationship. They called you stupid and immature for even thinking of hanging out with me in public. They said you were just too young for me. I was there though, wasn’t I? When your friends called the both of us crazy, I remember you crying for minutes in that small bathroom you have next to your bedroom. You remember it, right? The one with that small bar of blue soap; it was always your favorite. It still is. It filled the stuffy room with its soft scent, a smell of your kindness towards me.

The smell, yes, I remember it now. It was sweet, with a slight pungency to its core if one sniffed in ever so deeply. You told me it was to calm you through times of distress, and how the scent almost nipped and bit at your nose like a bitter winter. Another memory of mine. Of us.

But what did I ever do to deserve such grace? What indeed? I remember our first night together as one; that night, you lay with me in your small bed. You always had a thing for blue. Baby blue covers, blue drapes on your windows, and all sorts of neat little blue bows hanging on your blue walls. Everything about you was just blue all the time! Sometimes, it even smelled like you. It reminded me of you. But that’s changed now, right?

Do you remember? We sat there in the dark, you afraid and clinging to me like a child as you whispered your inner most secrets to me; I kept them sealed forever. You could trust me and you still can.

That was the first time you saw me smile. I remember it so clearly. You almost jumped out of your bed in terror. Then you realized that this was only natural; that we were only natural for each other. I remember it so clearly. Do you? You do…right?

I remember the first time you talked to Tom; that handsome boy with the faded red hair and the bad attitude. I always liked that color; red I mean. It always excited me and it still does to some extent. To see it on that boy was horrifying.

How you gushed over him like some kind of super model, so much so that it was almost a bit nauseating. No, I lied. It was sick. Sick, sick, sick, and I hated it. I thought you loved me? Were those words for nothing? Does trust mean nothing to you?

I remember one night when you brought both me and Tom home. Your house had become so familiar to me by now, that I could list off all the sights and smells, the sounds and tastes.

It was built on a little hill. The building itself reeked of old wooden paneling, but not in that way that makes noses wrinkle up in disgust. It was almost that of a warm robust, as if these walls were a bastion to protect all in its grip. There were always the sounds of chirping and birds of the like. Your house remained dormant near the deep forest. You had told me that the forest was a dangerous place where children often went missing and never came out and how the cold mist of December made it near impossible to navigate. You told me all this, and then gripped my body tighter on our first night together.

The house was so old, I could taste it. I could taste the age of its wood, the individual years of which this house was built on and the sweat of hours spent toiling in its completion. I tasted it all. Would you like to know the sensation I speak of? It was dry, extremely dry, but also wet in some places. If I were to put your house into culinary terms….it would be soaked jerky. Yes, almost like wet leather.

What my eyes saw was everything to be expected of a place like this. Pictures of your youth hung on the walls of the hallways, displaying your life from newborn to current age for all to see. Did you know? I’ve studied all of them many times. How innocent you looked back then.

But all of these details, all of them, were wasted on Tom. That boy….that stupid, annoying, undeserving boy! His very nature made my skin crawl. I hated him. How dare he try to take you away from me! I was yours first! I was and will always be yours!

I remember the first time I took a life. It felt so amazing, the life from poor Tom’s eyes fading into the night. The blood was so thick and runny, as if something straight from one of those R-rated horror films. Sure, Hollywood made it look fake these days, but this was real! Look at how his head rolls away from his body! Beautiful.

I remember when you discovered Tom’s body. How you cried and panicked and screamed, but it was worth it for you to turn back to me. I embraced you, hugged you, and whispered to you sweet praises of pure nonsense to show you my love. And for a while, it was fine. We were happy and together again.

I remember when Billy came home. I killed him

I remember when Dale came home. I killed him too.

And Chuck. And Kevin. And Lawrence. This was my home as much as it was yours. You were mine too and you still are! Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!

I remember when you found out my little secret. I suppose I should have done better than to put a piece of Michael in your soup; you were smart enough to know that tomatoes weren’t supposed to be that runny.

I remember your screams as I forcibly dragged you to your room. I remember how good it felt to throw you over the bed, tying you down and placing the knife next to your cheek. The look of fear in your blue eyes…yes, there it is again! Blue! Why is it so blue?

I remember when those blue walls turned red; red, and orange, and yellow, and all sorts of colors that boiled the blood and enraged the soul. Violence was everywhere, and you blamed me for it. You claimed I brought it to the household. You’re still so young, too young to understand.

I remember telling you that you were mine alone and that I would never kill you. I couldn’t, and you knew it. I remember seeing your head shake in approval of my words. Whether by shame or submission, I didn’t care. You’re mine.

I remember the first time you took me home. It was a cold, October day. I remember how we first met. You called me cute, didn’t you? I remember meeting your parents, and touring your house, and seeing your friends, and comforting your cries, and loving you forever. And watching. Always watching you.

Ah…here you are now. Didn’t you know? It’s our anniversary. Another full year has come and gone since the day we met. How long has it been again? Too long to count honestly on my end; how about you? I know our life together will be rough from now on, but it will be a life well spent. I guarantee it.

My rare smile flashes across my face as tears well up in your eyes… God, those beautiful blue eyes! Here’s your reward then for your patience and compassion. I lean forward and kiss you lightly on the cheek, and you tuck me into bed. As you turn off the lights-you stopped me from climbing in a long time ago-you give me one final wave before shutting your eyes and praying for sleep to come.

And now here I sit on the toy shelf, smiling at all the other dolls for how lucky I am to have you. One day, maybe you’ll be like me.

One day, maybe you’ll understand too…Anabelle.


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