Coo Coo Clock

I saw her. I saw it. There was some sort of resemblence.

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3. Choices

I had two choices, I kept telling myself, go back to my room and wake up like nothing happened, or phone. Phone the police, phone my parents. I picked up the phone and dialled the last called, my Mum and Dad. The call ringed for about a minute before the little annoying voice said the call was unavailable. Angered, I threw the phone at the wall and it smashed into tiny pieces. I left it on the ground for my parents to find and I creeped back upstairs, making sure to turn on every single light as I did, except Euan's.

I shut Euan's door and grabbed three blankets out of my cupboard, a pillow and went back down stairs. Laying out my blankets presisally, I lay on the couch, back to a wall so I could see out the window and through the hall. I slept, I think.

During the night I thought I heard a car pull up in our drive, but they just drove past, and by looking at the little clock on the top of the fireplace I saw it was only 5:02am. It had been nearly more than ten hours since I had last seen my parents. To me, that meant a missing person. I still knew to stay calm.

I knew I slept, because when I woke up, it was very bright outside, and the clock said 10:45am. I never had noticed the large coo coo clock that stood beside the fire. Huh, it looked pretty nice. Big and brown wood. Mum and Dad still weren't home. I didn't have another encounter with the girl, at least. I don't think I wouldv'e been able to manage it.

There was still blood on Euan's carpet, I decided to clean it up later, if Mum and Dad came home. When it reached twelve in the afternoon, I took the chance to leave Euan by himself, still sleeping, and I rushed across to my neighbours house across the street. I was unusually calm throughout all this, which didn't bother me one bit. I knocked at least eight or nine times on the hard wooden door until a tall man came to answer, I guessed it was Sandy's Dad. Sandy was my neighbour, he knows everything there is to know, or so I say.

" Hi, is Sandy home?"  I asked.

The man stared at me oddly. " Sandy? Who's Sandy?" he asked. " Are you lost, lovie?"

" Emm.. Sandy used to live here, and I'm pretty sure he still should? I'm not lost, I live across the street, my name is Ivy, I was wondering if I coud see Sandy, but as he's not here, do you mind if I could use your phone?" I mumbled.

" Oh, yes, but it is not my phone, sorry, it is Samual's," he said. " Samual is my son, he has lived up here for years now."

Years? Sandy lived in this house for at least four years, I thought.

The man shouted his son's name for a bit, until a smallish man came behind him.

" Sandy!" I yelled.

It was Sandy.

" Hey there, Ivy! Dad, go through to the sitting room, Mum wants to see you." Sandy said as I watched the taller man leave and mumble something to himself as he entered a room three doors away. " What can I do for you?"

" Samuel?" I didn't wait for a reply. " Anyway, well, me and Euan were at home last night, and Mum and Dad never came home. Euan didn't know what was going on, and he's left sleeping in the house right now, and something else.."

" You left your Brother by himself? Well, just hope he stays asleep. And I have no idea where your parents are, sorry, Ivy. What is the other thing? Ivy? Lift your head up and talk to me, tell me? Tell me!"

I couldn't bring myself to tell him, so I just shook my head, mumbling how I was just a little worried about Mum and Dad and how I needed to get back to Euan. He then said something back to do with how I could come over if I was worried and how he would listen if I was worried.

As I rushed back home, and opened the door, I felt like he was a pretty good neighbour, more like a friend. Yeah, a friend. I could tell him all about the little girl and her blood and all that and how scared I am really. Even though I'm putting up a hard front. Inside, everything seemed normal, there was no floating little girls, no blood. Euan was still asleep, well, he wasn't crying, so I guessed. Hopefully I was right. I climbed the stairs for the third or fourth time this early morning and afternoon. I peeped in Euan's room, then leaned back and sauntered along to mine, then I quickly rewinded and looked back in Euan's room. I burst open the door and looked into his small bed. The covers were pulled roughly off, hanging off of one side and most of it lying on the floor. His bottom bed sheet was wild. It was crumpled everywhere, parts up, parts down. There was all this going on in the bed, but there was no boy in the bed, Euan wasn't in the bed. But there was something else. There was little droplets of blood, dry. There were four or five or six big stains on the pillow, and even more small drops on the mattress.

Euan was gone.

My little Brother was gone.

 

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