Spliced

Agatha turned left and then right and stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognise the girl in the mirror. She’d lost several kilograms during her ordeal in the Milton house. A month ago it would have been something she would have welcomed. The other kids at school had teased her mercilessly about her weight and her lack of fitness. They had called her ‘Fat Agatha’. But there was no joy here. There was too much death and in a strange twist of fate it was the extra pounds that had saved her life. She felt lighter without them, too light, as if she might just float away.

“Agatha! Dinner!” she heard her mother call from down the hall.

She opened her door and called back, “In a minute.”

Then she sat on her bed. She didn’t really have anything else to do, she just didn’t feel like going to dinner yet. She was so tired. She figured she could sit for a few more minutes.

“Agatha!” her mother called again.

Her door was still open and she could hear the back and forth whispers that followed. It was probably her father telling her mother to lay off, reminding her that she needed time to recover. Her mother must have listened, because a moment later, she called back gently, “It’s fine if you don’t feel like eating now. We’ll leave a plate in the fridge for you alright?”

Agatha didn’t answer but that was okay, she knew her parents wouldn’t require one. Instead she lay down on her bed and pulled her knees up. Then she closed her eyes. She was so very tired.

She found herself lost walking in a mist, a little scared, feeling like there was supposed to be people with her. Beneath her feet she could feel the earth crunch but she couldn’t see where she was walking. Around her in the mist, shadows seemed to dart about, as if there were people out there just trying to keep out of sight.

“Hello?” she called.

Somewhere up ahead she could just make out the warm glow of orange lights, little spots that reeled her in. Then the music started.

It was a happy tune, the sort that carnivals play. It reminded her of when she had been younger. Her parents had taken her to the local fair. They’d paid for her to ride the merry-go-round and then afterward when she’d had several goes of that, they’d bought her the biggest ice cream she’d ever seen.

As she walked forward, out of the mist appeared something that looked very much like that merry-go-round, only this one appeared to be floating on a pool of water. She wasn’t sure if it was built there or if it was magic holding it up. She just knew she wanted to ride it.

The fog around her lifted, revealing more exciting rides and booths. There was candyfloss and a clown game and ice cream. It was all so real that she could even smell it. For what felt like hours she ran around and rode all the rides. She played several games, although where she got the tickets to play she was not sure. Every time she looked in her pockets there appeared to be more of them.

And then she started to feel very very tired and a new feeling washed over her. There was something horribly familiar about all of this. It was almost as if she had been here before.

It was dark when she awoke. The house was silent. Someone had laid a hand-knitted quilt on top of her for warmth, probably her mother. Despite having obviously been asleep for some time she felt an immense exhaustion and when she tried to get up from her bed she found her legs didn’t quite work. She ended up sitting on the floor of her room breathing heavily for a long time. Eventually she managed to pull herself upright and off the floor.

She sat back down on her bed and reached for the glass of water on her nightstand. After a long drink that did make her feel a little better she tried to remember. The moment she remembered the merry-go-round with it’s bright lights and fancy plastic ponies, everything else suddenly came rushing back. Not just from tonight but from the other nights, the ones she had spent in that house. She understood the familiarity of it now, of the fog, and magic of that place with it’s infinite tickets that let her go round and round and round until she got so tired. But still she had to keep going round and round and round. But not this time. This time she had woken up and it wasn’t anyone else who had woken her. Why had she woken? Why had it let her go?

It was a good question because with almost absolute certainty she knew it was still nearby. She could feel it even now.

In a panic she ran from her room, crying out for her parents.

“Mum! Dad!”

But no one answered.

“Mum! Dad!”

She ran into their room. She could see the shape of their bodies under the covers.

“Mum? Dad?” She asked more softly.

She drew in closer.

Both of them were lying on their backs. The covers of the bed were moving slowly up and down with their breathing but that did little to assuage her fears.

“Mummy? Daddy?”

She reached out one hand to poke her father awake

“Dad?”

He didn’t even stir a little.

“Dad!”

She poked harder.

Nothing.

She tried with both hands shaking each of her parents over and over but they were out for the count. Nothing she did would wake them. She switched on the light and yelled to no avail. She stood staring down at them, at a loss for what to do and they stared right back with wide open unseeing eyes.