a free horror short story by Erin Zarro
The strange picture hung in the hallway near my bedroom, cloaked in shadows. It was a picture of a woman who wore a black dress. A black veil covered her face completely, obscuring her facial features.
I’d grown up in this house, and the picture had been there for as long as I could remember.
Unfortunately, the only way to my bedroom was past that picture. Every time I passed by her, goosebumps raised on my arms, the hairs at the back of my neck stood up, and I’d get this painful twisting in my stomach. It lasted only seconds, but it was enough.
My brother and I were walking home from school one day. The air was crisp with the feel of approaching autumn. Leaves had started to turn color. My heart was heavy, because at school I had friends.
At home, not so much.
“I’m gonna tell Mom and Dad that you broke Mom’s vase,” my little brother, Evan, said in a sing-song voice. “They’ll believe me. They always do.”
It was freaking inevitable, so I didn’t bother arguing. “Whatever.”
Evan stopped dead on the sidewalk, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Something’s wrong with you. You always argue with me. ‘Specially when I lie to Mom and Dad.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. They’ll blame me anyway, so what’s the point?”
Evan started walking again, and I followed.
Yep, that was the ritual. Evan blamed me for something I didn’t do. Mom and Dad question us both. Then they hand down the verdict. I’m the one to blame, and then they sentence me to some kind of crappy punishment.
While Evan got no such thing. He was their little boy, the one who did no wrong, even when he did.
I trudged into the house, where Dad was setting the table. Evan was already there, and they were deep in conversation about something. Probably me. I tried to sneak past them, but Dad cleared his throat.
My blood went cold. I thought I might throw up. “Y-yes?”
He looked straight at me with his blue eyes that I swore could penetrate any lie. “Evan tells me you broke your mother’s vase this morning. This true?”
I swallowed hard. It was my chance to expose Evan as the liar and maybe get myself out of trouble. Would it work? Would he actually listen to me? I took a deep breath, then released it. “I did no such thing.”
“Liar!” Evan screamed. He glanced at Dad. “See, I told you she’d lie. I was there. I saw it.”
I sighed. “Really? We’re going to do this again? He’s lying, Dad. Please believe me.” I bit my lip, tears blurring my vision. I wished that this one time, he’d listen.
Dad glanced at Evan. “Evan doesn’t lie. He said you did it, so you did. I’ll talk to your mom about punishment. You both need to get ready for dinner. Your mother is on her way home, and she’s had a bad day.”
Which was Dad-code for “don’t upset her or else.”
I went upstairs, trying not to let my tears fall, and got ready to face them.
It was always this way. It was like they had a mental block where Evan was concerned. It was wrong, and I used to get so angry. Now? I just felt sad.
No one was on my side.
#
“I have some bad news,” Dad said after Mom had rushed in, finished dinner, and got it all put out on the table. He was right—she was frazzled and irritable. I was not going to get away unscathed.
I pushed my green beans around on my plate, keeping my head down. Please, don’t get mad, please, don’t get mad, I pleaded.
“What news?” Mom passed him the butter.
“Well, seems Julia here broke your vase,” Dad said, glancing at me. “Evan told me. It happened this morning.”
“The one grandma gave you from Cuba,” Evan chimed in. “You love that vase so much.” I shot him a dirty look.
“I do,” she murmured. “Julia, is this true?”
I put my fork down, and the sound broke the tense silence. I looked Mom in the eyes. “I did not break your vase, Mom. I tried to tell Dad, but he didn’t believe me. Please. Evan did it. He just wants to get me into trouble. Again.”
Mom gave me a searching look. My heart raced. Maybe this time—
And then she started to laugh. It went on for a bit, and she wiped her eyes. “That’s ridiculous! Evan’s never broken anything. You, on the other hand, are quite accident prone.”
“Remember the time she broke your ceramic calla lilies?” Dad asked.
Not me, Dad. Evan had broken them.
“And there was that mouse figurine from Christmas…” Evan said with a triumphant smile on his face.
I couldn’t convince them otherwise.
After I finished my meal, I went to my bedroom, trying not to look at the black-veiled woman in the picture. I couldn’t help wondering if she had something to do with this. Why I always get ill around her. Why her face was such a mystery. I needed to know, but how would I find out? No one ever listened to me or took me seriously.
It was pointless.
#
Things continued to be awful at home. It was an unending routine of getting up, going to school, and Evan screwing up. I get blamed, I leave dinner in tears, and I go to bed. And then I repeat it all over again. And again. And again.
On that fateful day, the day everything changed, I decided to focus on something else. The mystery of the woman in the photograph. Surely that was neutral ground, right?
We were eating dinner—late, because my mom had gotten off work late again—and my dad was already in a bad mood. And lucky me, so was Mom.
Dad sat down and started shoveling food into his mouth.
Hungry much?
As I nibbled on my pork loin, I tried to come up with a way to ask about it…her. Everything I thought of sounded stupid. There had to be a reason why she was there. Who was she?
I took a sip of milk and set the glass down. Mom looked up at me suddenly as if she knew I had something important to say. She was perceptive like that. “Julia, what’s up?”
“Um,” I said, anxiety making my heart race. This was it, and I was about to blow it.
“Spill it,” Evan said.
I shot him my most withering glare. “Shut. It.”
“Now, be nice to each other,” my dad said around a mouthful of potatoes. “There’s no reason for that behavior.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Dad made a slicing motion with his hand. “I had enough stress today at the office. I don’t need you two arguing.”
I let out a sigh. “Dad, I just wanted to—”
“But—”
“But what?” Mom asked.
“Ann, don’t encourage it,” Dad snapped. “They need to be quiet and eat their dinner.”
“She clearly has something to say,” Mom said, glancing at me. “I’d like to hear it.”
“Fine.” Dad set his glass down with a thud that I swore ricocheted through the room. Evan giggled at me. I stuck my tongue out at him.
What a loser.
Here we go. I couldn’t back out now. But they’d just laugh at me, like they always do. My palms sweated and I felt a bit lightheaded. I took another sip of milk, which curdled in my stomach. “Um, well, I was just thinking…wondering, uh, why…” My voice trailed off, and I realized… This was it. I’d never get up the nerve again, and the mystery of the woman in the picture would forever be unsolved. “Mom, why do we have that odd picture of the woman in the hallway?”
Mom’s eyes widened. “What picture? There aren’t any.”
What the hell? “It…it’s there. She’s wearing a black dress and a black veil, and I get sick every time I pass her—”
“You’re stupid,” Evan declared.
“Maybe you dreamed it?” Mom said, shrugging helplessly.
The food I’d just swallowed turned to ashes. Something was really wrong here. It was there. I knew it. I had been scared of it for freaking years. How could it not be there?
I stood, taking a deep breath. “I’ll show you. All of you.” I gave Evan a pointed look. He was calling me stupid when he couldn’t even do times tables properly? Come on.
“Julia, this isn’t necessary—” Mom started, but I cut her off.
“Yes. So you don’t think I’m imagining things.” So I could prove it to myself. “Come on. Please?”
Dad shook his head and stayed seated, but Mom and Evan both stood and followed me out of the kitchen and into the hallway.
This was it, the moment of truth. They’d see it, realize that they’d just forgotten about it, and Mom would explain it all, and all would be well.
Somehow…I didn’t think that was going to happen.
My heart pounded and the room spun. The closer I got to it, the worse I felt. But I forced myself to keep walking forward and to ignore Evan because he was being a brat and not helping. At all.
As I approached where picture was supposed to be, I had a moment of sheer panic. What if it wasn’t there and I looked stupid?
No, it was there. I’d seen it.
I finally got there, my head now spinning. I pointed to it. “Here it is.”
“What are you pointing at? That’s just a wall,” Mom said gently.
“It’s a picture,” I said, confused. “It’s right here.” I turned to Mom and Evan. “You don’t see it?”
“No, idiot,” Evan said.
I didn’t even know what to say. My eyes filled with tears, and I blinked them back.
Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. Sometimes we imagine things and they feel real. It’s the sign of a vivid imagination.”
I knew she was trying to make me feel better. But I still felt stupid. Best to just play along. “I could have sworn…”
“You are so not cool,” Evan said, heading back to the kitchen.
I sighed and headed back to the kitchen, too.
The rest of dinner was going to be excruciatingly difficult.
#
I jolted awake when my phone alarm went off at precisely three-fifteen a.m. I’d done this so I’d have some time alone in the house in the wee hours of the morning. I’d read that certain times of day were better than others for communicating with the dead. The veil was thinner.
I was positive that she was dead, and that she had died in this house.
Why did I think this?
I wasn’t sure. It was just a strong feeling that made it impossible to believe anything else.
I crept out of bed and tried not to think about that hallway in the darkness. The whole idea gave me the creeps, and another stomachache and a racing heartbeat, but damn it, I was going to solve this mystery. Tonight.
If only I could figure out how to communicate with the woman in the picture. If I was the only one who could see her…that was a start.
I pulled out the flashlight I’d grabbed prior to going to bed and switched it on. The light was bright—painfully bright. I turned it down a few notches.
Then I began the scary trek through the hallway. It always felt longer and larger at night. Every time the floor creaked, I jumped out of my skin. Every time I heard the clock tick, it felt like a countdown to my evitable death. Every time I heard someone snore, it felt like she was snoring. Biding her time, waiting for me to come closer until—
Someone screamed.
My heart crawled up my throat. I held up the flashlight. It was Evan, now covering his eyes. “What are you doing, Julia? It’s the middle of the night, idiot!”
“Nothing. Go back to bed,” I snapped. “I had to use the bathroom.”
“The bathroom isn’t this way,” Evan countered. “But your stupid pretend picture is.”
I hung my head. Busted. “It’s nothing. I’m not…it’s not here anymore.” I didn’t know what else to say…I didn’t feel like being called an idiot again.
“Maybe you aren’t stupid after all.” Evan brushed past me and headed for his room. I watched as he slid in and closed the door.
Whatever.
I looked up at the picture. Something…moved within. Shadows around her dress and veil. They looked…alive.
I wondered if I really was imagining things. I expected to see something, and I saw something. It was late at night, I was tired, I was mad at Evan and life in general…no one understood.
No one would ever understand.
Something told me to touch the picture.
So I did. I brushed my fingers along the faux-gold frame. A fierce cyclone of rage grew in me, so large I could barely contain it.
It felt as if I would explode as it grew and grew and grew.
I thought of my family not believing me when I talked about this picture. Not believing me about anything. How I felt so alone and silly. How my brother routinely insulted me, and how no one cared.
And how no one once bothered to think that maybe the picture did exist. That maybe I was telling the truth.
My hands clenched into fists.
Heart racing, I said, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
It was the answer to a question I felt in my heart, maybe even in my soul.
Would you like to join me where there are no brothers who insult you, no mothers who don’t believe you, no fathers who ignore you, and no feelings of loneliness?
I realized I would give anything to not feel those things ever again. Even though I was terrified of her, she was giving me a chance to change everything.
Very good, my dear. This might hurt a bit.
There was a tearing sensation deep within my chest, a blinding flash of light, and then darkness.
Seconds or hours later, I woke up curled on a black floor. No, wait—that was the dress…of the woman in the picture. And my vision had a black tint, like I was looking out through—
Oh no.
She…wasn’t here.
I stood on weak legs and struggled to walk wearing the very heavy, very ornate dress. I hadn’t noticed that before.
The perimeters of my space were small. No more than a closet, really.
I looked out from my prison of wood and paper and saw—
Myself.
And I was smiling.
The not-really-me lifted the flashlight and looked up at the real-me, stuck in the picture. “See? There are no brothers there, no mothers or fathers, and you’ll never be lonely because you are in a home with a family. You can watch us play and laugh and all kinds of things! I’ll even visit you sometimes! Bye!”
And she was gone, just a beam of light that disappeared into a room that was no longer mine, into a life that no longer existed.