Silence of Mary

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story about a day in the life of Jake as seen through his eyes as he copes with the recent loss of his girlfriend. He decides he's had enough of this old life and wants to move on, quitting his job and setting out on a new life until he meets a special little girl.

Submitted: January 14, 2016

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Submitted: January 14, 2016

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A white room, it’s empty, there’s nothing. Why am I here? What even is here?

My thoughts were interrupted by a sound that started faint but grew steadily, Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. It penetrated the emptiness, swallowed the silence and ran in pace to my heart.

This sound, I know it, I would know it anywhere, Clarice!

In front of me I saw two red stiletto heels appear and they walked on their own with each step matching up with the deafening clicking and clacking.

Those are hers, I know it, Clarice!

Out of the shoes, like a growing tree, appeared smooth pale legs then the beginning of a red dress that swayed as the legs moved. The dress climbed higher tucking in for the waist and then leading up to a full chest from which two slender pale arms branched out of the sides and ended in long, delicate fingers. It blossomed out the top and long chocolate brown hair flowed down like a silky smooth waterfall that bounced in rhythm of each step.

It was her, I knew it, it’s unmistakably her. I recognized it all too well as she was walking away from me- just like she had done only days before. I wanted to shout,

Clarice!

But no words escaped my mouth, as she continued to walk on with that incessant clicking and clacking. She was most definitely walking away, but she wasn’t getting farther or was I getting closer?

Clarice!

I reached out for her in a vain attempt to get her back, but I was stopped by a sudden realization, my right hand was covered in blood.

Wha- what’s going on.

I looked down at my left hand and I was gripping a bloodied knife, it had no features besides two intertwined dragons, one black and one gold. Blood traced it’s way down the blade and dripped off into the vast white emptiness below.

Okay, this can’t be real I’m not left handed. What the hell is going on!

My heart began to race, I didn’t even realize that the sound of her stilettos had vanished, because all I heard now was the pumping of my heart. More blood dripped down, but it didn’t come from the knife, it dripped from my chest. I touched it and it felt warm and wet, I traced it up to my throat and my hand froze. I felt a huge gash stretching across my neck and warm blood poured out of it. Fear took hold of me and I stumbled back, tripping and falling, falling as if there was no ground.

This is it, this is what I deserve, death. I already caused Clarice to leave me, the only reason I lived, why should I cause any more trouble for anyone? This is where I belong, in this vast emptiness left to be alone where I cannot hurt anyone else.

Just as feeling faded from every nerve in my body and the sound of my heart slowed to nothing, a new noise took its place. It was faint at first, but it became louder as if approaching me from somewhere out in this void, it was a song and it sounded like a small girl’s voice was singing it. The song was slower than usual, but I recognized it immediately,

 

Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, a little lamb. Mary had a little lamb, it’s fleece as white as snow.

 

Who’s there? I don’t recognize that voice. Who is here with me

 

And everywhere that Mary went, that Mary went, that Mary went. And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to-

 

The song cut off just as it seemed to get close, as I began to think it was over the face of a little girl with bright blonde hair ending in neat curls appeared in front of me with a smile. Her lips formed a word: “go” they said but I didn’t hear anything, because in an instant it was all gone and I snapped up in my own bed staring out the window across the room from me at the morning sun. I looked quickly at my hands turning them over looking for any signs of red, then patting my chest and neck to see that the only moisture was the sweat soaking my shirt. I was breathing heavily as I got out of bed and walked towards my bathroom to begin my usual, empty morning inside my boring, lonely apartment.

 

“What the fuck Jake, you’re losing it man, get a hold of yourself!” I shouted at myself in the mirror, “she’s gone and you can’t get her back, get over it you weak, pathetic excuse of a man.” I stripped and stepped into the shower as I felt the sweat wash away and watched the water swirl down the drain, it flashed red for a moment. “Great, now I am seeing shit when I’m awake. I need a break, a getaway, everything I see reminds me of her, that’s it, just a simple break." I looked to the white walls of the bathroom, I may have painted these white, but I still remember the color she painted them.

"I am not fooling anyone I need to leave and never come back, it’s not just this apartment it’s the whole damn city. I’ll quit today, it was a dead end job anyways and besides I have enough to relocate, find a new home in a new city or even a new country.”

I smashed my fist into the white tiles, the part of me that still cared was thankful they didn't crack.

“That’s it, this will be the one thing I don’t back down from, just one last day then I won't have to see her face again.”

I got dressed and left without even considering a breakfast, like hell it would matter anyways. I sat at my desk in my pathetic cubicle, spent the whole day just staring at the empty beige divider that contained me. I was staring at the one white square on it, it was a photo pinned facing the wall. I knew what it was, the image had been burned permanently into my iris, but I still flipped it the day she left. I gave a half hearted laugh to myself, “boy, you really fucked me Clarice, more ways than the one. I can’t even throw a photo of you away, I’ll let those greedy corporate pigs deal with you instead.”

I got up and looked at the clock,

7:30,

everyone had already left and my boss was due to lock up in half an hour. I walked down between the rows to his office and opened the door without a knock.

“Jake what do you think you are doing?” He sat there with his fat ass plopped in his big executive chair, a look of anger and annoyance flooded his face, his natural look.

“I quit. No questions, no prior notice just send my paycheck, because you won’t be able to get a hold of me.” I didn’t feel strong, it wasn’t strength that was allowing me to do this, actually I was terrified, but some part of me was taking hold and acting for the rest of me. I am weak, thats why I needed her, because she made me strong, but right now I just didn’t care. I felt like nothing could possibly happen that would make a difference to me. So I left, I left that pompous man shouting things down the hallway at me, I didn’t care what they were. From this point forward, the only thing that I knew is that I was just an empty shell waiting for the breeze to take me away.

 

I stepped out into the street and the sun had already dug its grave into the horizon, but my feet knew where to go which was fortunate because my mind wasn’t capable of thinking. My feet traced the same route back home and I watched them, fascinated at how wonderfully they worked without my intervention. If I tried to think about where to step, I would probably get them all twisted. The terrain changed as my body turned and my all knowing feet took me down an alley. That's when I heard it, perhaps the only thing that could've brought my autonomous feet to a halt, it was a song, an old song and I recognized it, but more importantly I recognized the voice singing it.

 

He followed her to school one day, to school one day, to school one day,

He followed her to school one day,

Which was against the rule,

It made the children laugh and play, laugh and play, laugh and play,

It made the children laugh and play,

to see a lamb at-

 

The voice cut off again and for a brief moment there was silence until I felt a warmth press against my lower back and the moist warmth of breath hitting the back of my neck as a cold sensation tickled my throat. The voice came back at half it's volume, but with twice it's  allure and right into my ear.

 

school

 

My heart began to beat, but my mind could not catch up, in fact it didn't seem to want to.

I should shout, I should fight back...I should do something. 

But I don't want to. 


“Do it." The only words that left my mouth and though I knew it was wrong, I couldn't stop them from leaving and as if in an argument with myself, I began to believe them. The pressure from the cold steel of the knife at my throat seemed to release for a second. “Please, do it, end this living nightmare.” The knife left my throat and I felt my knees give out as I fell to the ground on them. The knife flashed in front of my face and it wasn’t a knife at all, but in fact a broken sword. It didn’t look like the one in my dream and I sighed in some weird form of relief that it gave me. I quickly caught my breath however when I noticed two things, the wielder was left handed and when I saw the other side I recognized the symbol of the two dragons, one black and one gold. I focused on that symbol, because it had no meaning to me, but identity. The black dragon consumed my vision and my whole world went dark.

 

After a while I heard the same voice coming from the darkness singing the same tune and it drew me from shadow.

 

And so the teacher turned it out, turned it out, turned it out,

And so the teacher turned it out,

But still it lingered near,

And waited patiently about, patiently about, patiently about

And waited patiently about,

Till Mary did-

 

My eyes snapped open to the face of a young girl, pale with fair skin and sharp features, with her blonde curls that hung loosely from her head. Her eyes a piercing darkness, where the whites surrounded an iris consumed by black. Her voice came clear as day and matched the movement of her lips.

 

appear

 

She moved away and behind her I could see a line of people sitting down against the wall, they were all bound at the wrists and legs and some of them were awake and struggling to get free. They were crying out but a gag was preventing them from being too audible, however it also looked like we were underground an old parking garage perhaps. The girl bounded off towards them in a skip, when she reached them she pulled out her broken sword and knelt down beside the first one in line. It was a young lady, no older than thirty and she was wearing a grey tailored business suit with a white blouse underneath. Her chestnut brown hair was worn straight down and reached just past her shoulder, her eyes appeared blue in the dim light and they were filled with fear and something else. I looked down at my hands and saw that I was not bound, because the emotion in her eyes was paired with hope. The girl looked at me with a smile crossing her lips and she raised the knife to the woman's neck. Even without being bound I was still frozen, unable to even part my lips to speak and that seemed to be what the girl wanted as she looked at me. She must be looking for acknowledgment or perhaps even disagreement but I couldn't answer, I just sat there and watched waiting to see what would unfold. What should have been my insurmountable fear was turned to avid curiosity.

Taking this as an answer the girl pressed with the sword and drew it steadily across the woman’s throat and the women's eyes went wider as she made an attempt to scream, I saw the hope trickle from her eyes. Blood poured out of the open wound and down onto her suit, soaking through the white blouse underneath. She squirmed for a little while, but soon it stopped and she fell completely still. Part of me, perhaps the part of me that was still sane: was horrified. Yet the other part, the larger part,  the empty shell that was now me seemed somewhat satisfied. The girl went down the line to the next: a man clear into his fifty's  by the bald spot atop his head and the wrinkles deep set near his eyes. He wasn't awake, but I could picture now the scene if he were. Just as before she paused to look at me, my voice still evading my throat I sat and waited until she nodded and again drew her line across his throat. His eyes darted open in response, but too late to react to his situation as no muffled cries came and he fell back to sleep. 

She continued in this manner, one-by-one down the line each time pausing for my approval and acting when none was given. The pool of blood was growing larger and it crept steadily across the asphalt ground towards my outstretched feet, but I made no attempt to pull away and watched as it encompassed my legs and my white socks turned red. The dampness brought sensation back to me as my clothes clung to my body- it was still warm even after its travel. Turning my attention back to her she was half-way through and staring at me for the fifth time, the pause seemed to last forever and as the warmth of the blood brought feeling to my skin, I felt my head slowly rise and fall. Her smile grew and in a swift action with twice the precision, but only half the speed, she slit the woman's throat. I couldn't stop now, every time she looked to me with her blackened eyes, my head nodded as if on command. 

When she had finished with the last one, she slowly stood and turning to me with a smile of pure joy across her lips - she skipped. She skipped over to me with a thin trail of blood behind as she knelt down in the blood pool in front of me. She held her arms out stretched and I rose mine in response, she enveloped me and I her. The warmth of the blood had begun to fade, but was renewed by the warmth of her, and I wanted nothing else but for this moment to last.  She began to sing in my ear again with same slow steady tune luring me further into comfort,

 

”Why does the lamb love Mary so? Love Mary so? Love Mary so?

Why does the lamb love Mary so?”

The eager children cry.

"Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know. The lamb, you know.The lamb, you know.

Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know.”

The teacher did-

Pausing for a moment, leaving the last word of the verse hanging knowing all I wanted to hear now was the end of the song. She leaned back and the blade passed in front of my eyes, my first close look at it, it's jagged broken end insulting the fine and beautiful artistry of the blade. Inscribed near the hilt in beautiful elegant characters was the name: "Muramasa"; underneath that, in messy scratching that looked like the kind you’d find on a bathroom stall, read: Annabelle. That must’ve been her name, it was a name with sweetness and beauty - a name of grace and pride- a name that's flow put me at ease.

 

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Annabelle finished the song and then I saw out of the corner of my eye the sword being raised, in an instant I felt it cut across my throat in one swift movement. I didn’t struggle I only looked down at my hands covered in blood as she slipped the handle of the sword into bloodied palm of my left hand. In the last images of color I saw her look me in the eyes, her curly blonde hair acting as a curtain, her lips curled up in a smile before mouthing two simple words: she then turned and skipped away. I raised my right hand and patted my chest, feeling the warm wetness of the blood staining it. I crept my fingers up above my collarbone and slowly slid my finger up towards my Adam's apple until I reached the clean slash across my throat, the source of the fountain. Carefully I traced my finger over the cut, memorizing by touch the curved line she drew like a skilled artist. I traced it until my finger grew cold and I couldn’t feel anymore.

 

Darkness fogged my peripherals threatening to overtake me, but I wouldn’t let it, or maybe it already had because I could not feel anymore. Everything felt cold and empty as only few images remained, the beautiful curved line floating like a red smile, her name scrawled in chicken scratch: "Annabelle". I understood now, but it’s odd, that had nothing to do with my life, I was never in control. I was simply caught up in a series of events and I was used as a tool, but for some reason I wasn't angry at Annabelle. I wasn't angry at the world or anyone in it, no, my anger calmed from a fire to a single ember waiting to be crushed.


That blood red smile hung there, floating as a constant reminder of my last moments awake. In such a carnal and bloody event this curved red line represents perfection and logic. The darkness was deep set now, no longer a fog it was impenetrable and the coldness weighed heavy on every muscle and nerve. Until I heard it, faint at first, but it caused my heart to kick start and the two noises filled my ears, the pumping of my heart and that dreaded noise. Click Clack.

 


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