The Trapped Soul

Adolescent psychics are very rare in The Glades, Tennessee…especially deep in the woods. Freya Lyric Bleu is one of those rare gems – she just doesn’t know it, yet. Freya is a seven year old girl, who has hardly any family or friends; just her father, Sargent Armin Bleu, to help guide her in the right direction. Sargent Bleu was a veteran in the war for ten years, and came home just a half year before Freya was born. Freya is home schooled by Sargent Bleu. She is taught her reading, writing, math, history, and science, but those are just minor subjects to this child. The main subject her father teaches her: survival.

One night after a long day of hard work, little Freya rests her head on her pillow, closes her eyes, and drifts to sleep…but she’s soon awoken by the sound of a window opening. She’s startled when she finds that it wasn’t her father who opened her window, but a little boy around her age. He and Freya soon become close...the thing is, she's the only one that can see him.

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3. Come Play With Me

The days went by rather fast after my father and I was settled in. We got back into our routine, waking up at six in the morning and heading to bed at nine o’clock. During the day, I was doing my assignments for school, and if I was done early, I took a walk through the woods or did some hunting for some extra credit. Dad used his days just as wisely as I used mine; he hunted. He crafted. He invented. He built. Dad basically made our lives with his own two hands and wise brain. I could only wish I’d be as smart as him someday – and I felt really special, because he told me once that I was already halfway there. It was when he told me that I’m smarter than he was at seven that I couldn’t rid of the smug look on my face.

The nights…the nights are what seemed to last an eternity, one at a time, slowly passing by. The only thing that seemed to change was the phases of the moon. I often times sat up at the lone window, resting my elbows on the sill and my chin on my fists as the bright stars and glowing moon shone and I stared up at them in wonder. Whether I wanted to sit up or not at night, I didn’t really have a choice. Every single night, at exactly 9:27, the shutters became loose and started banging together. If it was quietly, it’d be easy to ignore…but, you see, the longer I attempted to ignore the noise, the louder it seemed to become. The thing that was really nerve racking? Once I got up, it suddenly stopped. The shutters ceased to make the aggravating sound. However, as soon as I lied back down…it began again. I tested the shutters throughout a few nights, and found that if I stayed up until 10:08, they wouldn’t budge. There was one night that I tried to go straight to bed, but sure enough, they clanged and banged and other loud things. You may be criticizing me right about now for not closing them and locking the latch, but, trust me, I tried. I tried so many times. No matter how many times I tried, they always seemed to unlock again.

I’m beginning to believe this house is magical.

That’s truly frightening for me, because I’m really a very realistic child. Especially for a seven year old.

I was currently outside behind the cabin – actually, I was right by the mysterious window. I stood from a few feet away, my arms crossed over my chest and my foot tapping against the cool ground as the leaves crunched beneath the shoe. My eyes were fixated on the wooden and glass bit of the wall as my curious thoughts ran wild. This was one of the first times I’m actually taking a break from doing something constructive in a while…

I didn’t know what to think of it. There was nothing abnormal looking about the thing. I compared them to all of the other windows, but nothing was different, other than the size. So what could possibly be making the shutters of it unlock and make ruckus by itself?

My legs and feet carried me forward, my arms still crossed over my chest as if I was hugging myself. Lately I’ve been feeling like I need a hug. My dad is always away doing things, and I have no one else. I thought once we moved into an actual “house”, I’d be much happier, and feel a lot safer. But…I didn’t.

The thoughts usually snuck into my head when I was alone in my room…often at night while I was up. I kept thinking bad things…things like murder and killing. Every thought I had began with “what if”.

What if I’m murdered one day? Or what if I’m just killed? What if someone hurts me? What if dad gets murdered, killed, or hurt? What if someone breaks in? What if we’re robbed? What if our money is stolen? What if our belongings are stolen? What if dad and I are ever separated? What if I won’t be able to defend myself?

What if?

These possibilities frightened me, and I was confused as to why they were suddenly up in the front of my mind. Why would I have to worry about any of those things? Dad would never let them happen…and I’d help him.

I was now directly in front of the window, just one foot away from it. I peered inside, my head tilting to the side a bit as I investigated my room from the outside. The only thing strange was that my bed wasn’t made.

What the heck? ...I must have forgotten to do it this morning.

I overlooked the bed and continued to stare. Nothing off on the inside…nothing off on the outside…nothing off at all.

Maybe weird stuff only happened at night. It’s about 3:30 in the afternoon now, guessing from the sun. Should I stay outside tonight? I think I will. I’ll get a bit of rest, but then, at 9:27, I’ll go outside and see if anything happens. I wouldn’t be able to tell from the inside, for I would have known already. 

Suddenly, I heard a snap. My chilly body froze but my eyes flew from left to right. My clenched fists were still crossed under my arms as I slowly eased my knife out of my sleeve.

There was no one to my sides, so that left behind me. I focused on the reflection on the glass, making it seem like I was still looking inside.

I only caught a glimpse, but I certainly saw it.

I saw a short figure in a blur as he ran out of the view of the mirrored image. I knew for sure it wasn’t dad, for he was much more built, and by far taller.

I swung around quickly, my knife tight in my grip and my back pressed against the wall next to the window. My gaze swept over every single bit of ground I could see, and there was nothing there. No people. No noise. No nothing. Nothing human would have been able to get away that quickly. It’s not possible.

Maybe it was a fox, or a coyote. I probably just spooked a wild animal, is all.

A sigh escaped my lips while I put the knife back up my sleeve. I turned back to the window, giving it one last stare before I shoved my small, thin hands into the pockets of my denim jeans and walked around the house and back inside. I kept my head bowed while I made my way to the counter in the kitchen, next to the fridge. If I was going to have a stakeout tonight, I had to be prepared.

***
It’s 9:00. I’m getting ready for the “investigation”, lacing my boots onto my feet as I sat on the edge of my bed. I’m going to be extremely tired in the morning, but if I can find out what’s going on…it’ll all be worth it.

I stood up from my mattress and onto the cold floor, though I couldn’t feel it through the leather of my footwear. I quickly tugged up my jeans over my lower stomach, and pulled on a warm black hoodie over my light purple, long-sleeved t-shirt. Once the hoodie was on, I reached up and pulled my hair out from beneath the fabric. That’s one thing I just can’t stand, having my hair caught up beneath my clothing. It’s just so aggravating to me.

Once I was situated, I decided that I’d try to get a bit of rest before I headed outside. After all, I still have just a bit less than a half hour, and I’d need to be awake.

So, I crawled back under the covers and closed my eyes while snuggling and cuddling with my pillows. I could hear crickets singing their hushed melodies from outside, and in my opinion, that was the best lullaby there was. I soon drifted into a dreamless sleep.

However, I was awoken about twenty minutes later.

Was it from the window? Yes.

Was it from the shutters? No.

I was startled into a sitting position when I heard my window open.

My eyes strained against the darkness to make out the shape of my father, but…it wasn’t him.

I quickly reached over to my bedside table and grabbed the baseball bat that was leaning up against it. The little, dark brown haired, blue eyed, pale boy didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked right past it…and right at me.

“Come play with me?” his sweet voice spoke in an alluring manner, beckoning me towards him.

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