Prompt: Write a scary story/a thriller that consists of 5,000 words or less
Summary: Erin is trying to keep it together since the horrible accident between his wife, Joanna and his 9-year-old daughter, Jody, but he sees that he is neglecting his little girl while he cares for her mother. Desperate for a remedy that will keep them all safe, he makes a final decision about his wife's care. Jody and her precarious imaginary friend disagree and when they have finally had enough, Jody takes matters into her own hands. Or are they indeed, her hands?
Author Notes: I wrote this story for a writing contest which prompted writers to create a thriller or a scary story under 2,500 words. I decided to go with a concept that came to me one time when my sister told me that her eldest daughter had an imaginary friend and the sorts of conversations she would have with her friend. Honestly, I thought it was so creepy and my imagination went wild and created this story. And if I am going to be even more honest, I don't really like the story all that much. I feel like a lot of me hides behind the dramatics of a thriller and I haven't quite found my flow or voice with them yet.
None the less, my niece isn't the only inspiration for this story, Edgar Allen Poe, his writing style and his dark goth themes also influenced this story. In fact, some of the names, the addresses, and the phrases I used are references from Poe's life and his work. All of these are clues so you can guess who the imaginary friend may actually be.
The story is separated into 4 scenes. Enjoy and let me know any feedback you think I can apply to improve in my thriller/scary storytelling!
"My Imaginary Friend"
by Gabie the Author
Scene One:
Erin awoke gasping for air with tears running down his face. His eyes scanned the room searching for unfamiliar shadows. All was still, just another nightmare. He wiped his drenched hair from his forehead and turned to face her. She was calm and quiet, her fragile and bony hand still in his, wet with perspiration. She was cold and he felt a chill.
Erin grunted and sat up. He turned to look at Joanna, undisturbed by his cracking bones and the squeaking mattress. A deep sleeper --- she slept even deeper lately. He took her hand and placed it carefully on her chest. Carefully to not disturb her. Erin admired the parts of her body illuminated and watched the air from the vacillating fan playfully toss her hair and clothing this way and that. At one time, she was playful, and her smile could light up a room. Before the accident, she was a gentle soul who wouldn't hurt a fly. Now, the flies mocked her kindness.
Erin slowly rose from the bed and reached for the blanket. Out of bed, he could hear her. He stood still to make out her voice. Animated under the low hum of the fan and muffled by the buzz of the flies, he could still hear her. Engaged, inquisitive, playful, just like her mom. Jody, their 5-year-old daughter, was talking. Again. Back and forth banter with her friend; her imaginary friend. Joanna was not worried. "All little children have imaginary friends", she would say, "It's part of their ever-growing imagination." Joanna, so considerate, so understanding.
Erin covered Joanna with the blanket and tucked the ends under her chin. Her dirty-blonde hair covered her face in a matted hive. He probably should comb it, but he preferred it this way. He didn't want Jody to see what the accident had done to her mother's eyes. Truthfully, he couldn't bear to look at her eyes either.
On the nightstand, surrounded by prescription pill bottles, Erin found his phone. He tapped the passcode, Joanna's birthday. The phone unlocked. Battery: 13%. He had forgotten to put it on the charger. Hour: 3:27 AM. "Do all children talk to their imaginary friends at 3 o'clock in the morning?", he whispered. Joanna lay peacefully, unphased by her husband's inquiry or her daughter's dialogue. He placed his phone on the charger and pressed play.
Erin spat in frustration and swatted at his mouth. Joanna was also very tidy, and when she was well, she kept the house spotless. Ever since the accident, she was not able to clean, and it only took a few weeks for the house to resemble a scene from one of Poe's short stories. Dark, mysterious, and unkept. The depression was palpatable, circulating through the vents. Since Erin refused to open any windows, the sadness suffocated them. Jody's friend was the only other person to witness their sorrow.
Erin unhooked the key from his belt loop, unlocked the door, and turned the brass knob. He eased the door open so that the rusted hinges could not sound an alarm. Keeping the doorknob turned, he closed the door and locked it. Sliding the key back into his right pocket, he stepped lightly trying to minimize the creaks of the original hardwood floors. The Art Deco home was built in 1924 and it roared its age with every door that opened and with each step taken. Joanna loved this house; she would hate to see what it had come to. Thankfully, she couldn't.
"I don't know what he...I guess, but did you... Probably, well, mommy has a... No, not like... (laughing)... I think it's...what did daddy..."
Even when Erin would listen at the door, he could never make out the full conversation. But after all, what did he expect, she was only 5. Erin turned the doorknob to his daughter's bedroom and cracked the door open just enough to peak in. Jody sat on the end of the bed facing the moonlit window which casted an angelic halo over the little girl highlighting her blonde curls. She was so much like her mother. Her arms stretched out behind her back, supporting her tiny frame, while her legs dangled, her head resting on her shoulder.
"Sweetheart?" Erin said while flipping the light switch. Nothing.
Jody straightened her back and stopped swinging her legs, still facing the window. She was silent.
Puzzled, Erin flipped the light switch again. The room lit up. Another tell-tell sign of the house's vintage.
"Daddy?" Jody said slowly turning to her father.
"Sweetheart, is everything ok?" Erin said while still investigating the switch.
"Yes, daddy." Jody said while jumping up to grab the blanket and climbing back into bed.
"Jody love, remember what I told you? It's best if you talk to your friend after you wake up so that you can sleep well. Remember?" Erin said bending down to sit next to his daughter and to tuck the covers tightly around her into the crevices of her mattress. Tightly, securely.
"I know daddy, but he don't like to talk in the daytime..."
Erin winced and shushed his daughter while patting down her disheveled curls. It was odd enough that his 5-year-old daughter talked to her imaginary friend at 3 o'clock in the morning. Oddly specific that she referred to the friend as he.
"Ok, well, tell your friend that it's bedtime. Come on now, lay down and..."
"But daddy, he said that mommy..."
"Enough Jody! I said it's bedtime so lay down and get some rest and no more playing or talking until daytime." Erin finished tucking the covers in between the box spring and the mattress and walked over to turn off the light. Before flipping the switch, he turned to look at Jody. Her eyes were full of tears and questions that he could not answer. He flipped the switch and closed the door.
Jody listened to the fading sonata that her father's footsteps and the wood floors created. She heard him turn the key --- the key dangling from his belt loop, open the door, and lock it behind him.
Why did daddy not like her friend? Mommy loved him. Mommy accepted everyone. Daddy didn't want her to have anyone, not even one friend.
Ever since the accident, she couldn't even see mommy. Daddy said it was too risky, he didn't want Jody getting sick, too. Jody's friend wanted to get mommy some help, but daddy didn't want to hear what he had to say. No one heard anything these days, only mommy's cough. The same cough, every night. Mommy never seemed to get worse, but she never seemed to get better. The same cough: dry and weak, all night long. The coughing would stop in the morning. Daddy said it was because the medicine helped.
Jody wants to help. Her friend knows how to help. "04...13...90, 04...13...90, 04...13...90..." Jody whispered. She reached down at her feet and pulled the blanket up over her head to mute the buzz of the flies. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. Help was coming soon, mommy, don't worry.
Scene Two:
The next morning, Erin awoke to streams of sunlight bursting through the moth holes and through every crevice that the curtains failed to seal. He looked at her.
Joanna's face was turned away from him, revealing her matted curls flattened by days of her laying on her back. "Don't worry, my love, I'll brush it." Erin said while he gently rubbed Joanna's arm. She was cold.
Erin detangled the blanket and covered his wife's frail body. "There you are my love." At least she had stopped coughing, perhaps the medicine was helping.
Walking around to his wife's side of the bed, Erin saw bowls full of oatmeal stacked against the wall. Flies and maggots feasted. Joanna would be mortified if she could see the mess he had made. But she could not even sit up on her own.
Shuffling through the prescription, Erin grabbed the bottle with the red cap. If only she had remembered to take this one the day before the accident. Things would be a lot different now. Joanna wouldn't be sick. Jody would be safe. The house would be clean. They all would be happy.
Erin lifted Joanna's fragile body into a sitting position and pushed her hair away from her face. He avoided her eyes. She must know that he can't look at her like this. He placed the pill in between her lips. Her lips were naturally red, she never had to wear lipstick. So sweet to kiss, so soft to the touch. Now, they were blue, cracked, and leaking fluid. Erin gave her some water and laid her down. The sheets looked just like his white T-shirt. He added 'wash sheets' to his mental checklist. Perhaps when he sent Joanna away to get help, he would have the energy and time to tidy up. She must get help soon; the situation was only getting worse.
Erin left the bedroom and turned to lock the door behind him. In the kitchen, he saw his daughter sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal. He was impressed and saddened to think of how quickly she learned to care for herself since the accident. The cereal box and the milk carton sat atop the table in a puddle of spilled milked. She was still only five years old. Staring into emptiness, she repeated something under her breath. She didn't seem to acknowledge the flies in her cereal or that he had entered the kitchen.
--
Jody noticed when daddy walked into the kitchen. She wanted to say good morning but ever since the accident, daddy hardly ever responded. He hardly even looked at her. She fixed her eyes on his routine as she stuffed spoonsful of cereal into her mouth. Out of the pantry, he took the large jar of oatmeal. He filled a bowl with tap water and reached into the jar to grab a handful of oats. Jody noticed that his hands were brown and there was dirt under his fingernails; he stirred the oats into the water with his index finger, put the bowl into the microwave and then stared into the microwave for 2 minutes until the buzz broke his trance. He grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and placed it in the bowl. Today, he added a step: He stared into the bowl.
His hair had not seen a comb since the accident. Jody remembered when he had put both of his hands on his head in shock, she thought he would pull out his hair. He didn't. His hair still stood in this position, as if he had styled it this way. His soft and loving brown eyes now were shadowed by dark circles. His eyes still held the fear and pain that she saw the day of the accident.
Jody dropped her gaze to her father's T-shirt. She could not remember what color it used to be, but it became darker every day since the accident.
Jody's gaze dropped lower and there they were. The cell phone in its usual place: the right back pocket. The keys in their usual place: clipped on his belt loop.
"Mommy will have to go away for a while, to get some help."
"Where is she going?"
"Somewhere where she can get some help. She will be gone for a while, until she gets better."
"Ok." Jody said while she stuffed the last spoonful of cereal into her mouth. She wanted to believe daddy. She wanted to believe that mommy would really get help this time. But he had said this every day since the accident. Mommy was still coughing every night; she was still sick.
"Mommy needs her breakfast. I'll be back." Erin said while swatting flies away from the bowl of oatmeal.
Jody sat still and watched her father walk to her parent's bedroom door with the bowl of cereal in his left hand. His right hand reached for the keys and unclasped them from his belt loop. Jody fixed her eyes on the keys to see which one he chose. He chose a golden key with a round handle. The golden key with the round handle. The golden key with the round handle. The golden key with the round handle.
Jody pushed away her bowl and stared at the locked door. "44 East Lombard Street...44 East Lombard Street...44 East Lombard Street." she repeated. Help was on the way mommy, don't worry.
Scene Three:
After feeding Joanna what he could, he stacked the bowl of oatmeal with the rest, walked out of the bedroom and locked the door behind him. He grabbed the shovel propped up against the wall next to the door and looked down the hallway. Jody was sitting on her bed, facing the door staring at him. There were no questions in her eyes. Perhaps she was satisfied this time. Her lips moved, repeating something under her breath while she rocked back and forth holding her little legs in her arms. She was just like her mother. He had to keep her safe. She couldn't get sick too. No one could find out about the accident. He would send Joanna away to get well. He would protect Jody.
Erin worked in the garden until sunset shoveling dirt and making way. If he were going to finally tidy up, he may as well start here.
Scene Four:
Erin awoke, gasping for air and in a pool of his own sweat. Once his ears stopped ringing, he could hear it. The cough. He checked his phone: Hour: 3:19 AM. Battery: 7%. He walked over to his wife's side of the bed and reached for the charger, as he did, he heard a bang that made him jump. He turned to Joanna. Nothing startled her these days. Erin put his phone down on the nightstand and walked toward the door.
Jody must have gotten into something and knocked it over.
The planks moaned dramatically underneath each step. As he got closer, he could hear Jody. Animated. Engaged. In full banter. How many times did he have to tell her to go to sleep? How many times did he have to tell her that he wanted no talking, no playing until daytime? Who was she talking to? Who was this best friend of hers?
Erin flung open the door to her bedroom and flipped the switch. Nothing. He flipped the switch again. Nothing.
"Jody?" Nothing.
Erin noticed that the blanket at been placed over the window blocking the moonlight and making it impossible for him to see his daughter's silhouette. Where was she?
"Jody? Are you in here? Where are you?" Nothing. No sound. No response.
Erin flipped the switch again. Nothing.
"Jody? What did I tell you about playing at night? It is bedtime. Where are you!"
Erin walked to the window to pull down the blanket and just as the moonlight filled the room, he felt a yank at his right side and heard the sound of little feet pitter-pattering against the wood floor.
"Jody? What is going on, and what are..." Erin reached down and felt his belt loop. It was ripped off the seam. She had yanked the keys and ran. She was running to their bedroom. She was running to her mother.
Erin sprung towards the door calling after Jody. He could not see her, but he could hear her. Then her steps stopped, and Erin heard what sounded like shattered glass. He heard her steps start and felt sharp pains shoot through both of his feet. He had run directly onto glass. He tried to keep pace, but he was slipping on blood, and losing his balance. He braced himself against the wall and called out to Jody.
Then he heard the door slam and lock. She was inside. She had locked the door.
--
Jody turned the key and looked around the room. It was dark. She remembered that her mother liked to sleep on the right side of the bed. She ran to her mother's side and grabbed her arm. She was ice cold, coughing but not moving. The same cough. Dry and weak. Never better, never worse.
Jody ran to turn the light on. Nothing. She went back to her mother's side and noticed the phone on the nightstand, buried in prescription pill bottles. She grabbed the phone and when it was upright, the backlight came on. She tapped pause and her mother stopped coughing. She tapped play, and her mother started coughing again. She tapped pause, no coughing. Play, coughing.
"Mommy?" Jody cried. Joanna said nothing.
Jody entered the passcode: 04, 13, 90; just like daddy did it. The phone unlocked. Jody's concentration was broken by the doorknob rattling and then bulging with his every attempt to break through.
Jody tapped the phone icon, just as her father would do, she remembered 9-1-1. Daddy had taught her that a few weeks before the accident. It was so much easier to remember than the passcode or their home address. All she had to do was type 9-1-1 and then tell the people her address and help would come. Mommy would get help. Mommy would finally get help.
Jody looked back to see splinters coming off the door frame. Daddy was going to get in. She had to hurry.
"It's ok mommy, I'm getting help." she said as her little fingers typed 9 then 1 then the phone screen went black: 0% battery.
The door flung open, and it fell to the floor with Erin. Jody grabbed the phone charger and ran for the door while her father desperately pleaded after her with tears in this throat.
"Jody, don't do it. They'll take you away. Jody, daddy will get mommy help...don't do it."
Jody ran to a corner of her room, reached under her mattress and put the charger in the outlet and plugged the phone. The screen was still black. Just a little more and she could make the call. She anxiously looked at the phone while she heard her father's steps getting closer and closer.
She looked at the phone again: 3% battery. She tapped in the passcode: 04, 13,1990, and then 9,1,1. She brought the phone to her ear.
Erin stood in the door gasping for air and flicking the light switch on and off. Nothing.
"Sweetheart. Please give daddy back his phone. They're going to take you away. You'll never see mommy or daddy again, please sweetheart!"
Jody watched her dad stumble towards her. "9-1-1, what is your emergency?"
"44 East Lombard Street. Please help my mommy!" The phone went dead again, and Jody screamed as her dad lunged towards her. She raised the knife she had taken from under her mattress and forced it into the left side of Erin's chest. Shocked, Erin slowly looked down at his chest. His shirt as red as the blanket on his bed. He held the knife protruding from his heart and fell to the ground.
Jody watched as the blood formed around her father's body. What a horrible accident. What a horrible accident. What a horrible accident. Jody rocked back and forth with her little arms holding her knees.
When two police officers arrived, they knocked but no one answered. They force opened the door and attempted to turn on the lights. Nothing. With flashlights, they made their way around the home passing the disheveled living room and the cluttered kitchen. The stench was unbearable, and the flies feasted on everything.
"Hello! Is anyone home!"
When they quieted themselves, they could hear a faint whisper of a little girl's voice. Animated. Engaged. Laughing. The hair stood up on their necks.
They thought the voice was coming from the bedroom with the door unhinged and laying on the floor. As they stepped closer, the smell of decaying flesh and bodily fluids became more evident and so thick that they had to cover their nose and mouth. They shined their flashlights on the bed and there was a woman, decaying. Her hair had fallen out and lay matted on top of her head. The maggots and flies feasting on the rotten food in the corner as well as the woman's decaying body. On the left side of her chest, a knife protruded.
They panned their flashlights over to the nightstand and saw mounds of prescription pill bottles. The officer grabbed a bottle with a red lid, and it read: Trifluoperazine, prescribed to Joanna Alaina Poe.
"An anti-psychotic, for schizophrenics", the officer said. "How in the world did she end up stabbing herself in the chest, though?"
Just then, the officers heard little footsteps slowly approaching until a small wild haired figure stood in the doorway.
One officer shined her light on Jody revealing a teary-eyed but smiling toddler. "Did you help my mommy?", she asked.
"We are trying to help your mommy. Are you ok? Is there anyone else in the house?"
"Yes. Daddy. He needs help, too."
"Ok. Can you take us to him?"
Jody slowly turned and lead the officers down the hallway towards her room. She stopped where Erin's body lay, and the officers shined their flashlights on his face. His eyes, wide and frozen in disbelief. They panned their lights to his chest and saw the knife in his heart.
"Dear Lord. Do you know who did this?"
Without blinking, Jody looked into the light and fixed her gaze on the inquiring officer's eyes and said, "The same person who got mommy. Edgar."
"Who is Edgar?" one of the officer's asked.
"Edgar. My imaginary friend."
Did you catch the references to Poe?
Komen