Chest in the attic - ghost

Chest in the attic - ghost

I went to my bedroom, the room my mum kept so clean it didn't belong to me. I was not allowed to put posters on the walls, all my books where tidy in the bookshelf, classed in alphabetical order. I looked around me, there was nothing I was tempted to take away with me. The door opened on my mum bringing a mug full of smelly vapours. " drink this, it will keep the ghosts away".

There was no way I was going to drink this lethal  herbtea. After all my mum was a killer.

I'm fine, mum, really. I just want to rest a bit.

Well, young man, when the dreams come, you'll be pleased to find it. There you see, I put it on your bedside table. Have a good rest. 

With that she left me to my own.

Gingerly I poured the mug down the toilet in the ensuite, I didn't want to be drugged at best, nor to be rendered Inconscious, nor worse be a victim of a satanic ritual.

True I was bugged, I put myself to bed to think about what I was going to do.

I couldn't think straight, again and again and again I could see that tattoo in my mind. Each time it was getting bigger and larger until it felt my mind was the tattoo itself.

I heard slow steps coming up to my door, they stopped. The door handle turned slowly, the door opened to let a black shape entering my room. It looked like a lady totally in solid black , the figure' s veils were solid not transparent.

It kept coming towards me, I was awake , crawling slowly in my bed toward the wall for a refuge. It kept coming towards me. I was suffocating, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't shout, I was frozen, I couldn't move. It raised its arms, its black gloved hands went to my throat and started to squeeze. I couldn't struggle, as I was loosing consciousness I heard it: follow me and meet, the witch, your parents stole the tattoo from. 

I seemed to detach myself from my body which stayed in bed, I was dragged by the dark ghostly figure. Somehow she took me through the corridor, down the steps into the hall, and opened the door to no known world I knew. The suburbia had disappeared with its row of front gardens and parked cars in favour of a stormy dusky sky, a dead bleached tree was standing there in the middle of a no man land. 

When suddenly a band of screaming harpies carrying heads of decapitated people on spikes, surrounded us , dancing, shouting, squanding ,asking us to give them back their queen, their lovely queen, their delightful queen. Their dance around us became frantic by the moment, stomping the ground would describe it more adequately. If I had been in my physical body I'm sure I would have wetted myself, if you see what I mean, I was terrorised. Screaming their heads off" give it back, give it back",

" we want her, we want her".

It had turned into a hellish bacchanale, some of them were licking the oozing  blood from the heads on their spikes, drums were emitting a drunken rhythm to which they all swayed, turning on themselves like mad dervishes. Blood madness was reflected in their empty eye sockets.

I was watching this ghost brigade not sure if I would ever see my mum and dad again. My terrible parents, how they made the world safe.  A powerful longing to see them, to hug them again overtook me. I was sobbing in earnest, big fat tears running down my Etheric  cheeks, when suddenly, I heard my mum saying in her warm rich voice, there, there, there, who was it who didn't drink my soothing potion. There, there, there, you're safe, give me kiss now! 

You know what, I did and hugged her for dear life. 

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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