The Little Girl

The Little Girl's Origins - Hidden away in a crawlspace lies her memories, fractured, damaged, no longer in use. A tall man once visited her when all the lights were off. Windows barricaded, outside people screaming for their loved ones. Curtains were closed always, she never had a moment where she could ask about the outside world. For the outside world was a journey inside her own mind.

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1. CH. 1

The Little Girl

Hidden away in a crawlspace lies her memories, fractured, damaged, no longer in use. A tall man once visited her when all the lights were off. Windows barricaded, outside people screaming for their loved ones. Curtains were closed always, she never had a moment where she could ask about the outside world.

“It’s getting late, I don’t think you should be up at this hour.” His calm tone, a voice that can crawl under your skin if you let it. “Lights out, I want you up early tomorrow.”

She rested her eyes as the room around her was nowhere near what she ever had wished for. It was missing teddy bears, a princess-like fantasy world in a room. Instead of an innocent girl with a beautiful room, a perfect father who she could happily call “Daddy,” there was no innocence. Wallpaper being torn off by the strong winds that blew in from downstairs. She’d always have a chill running up her spine with every night she tried to sleep. Her mother is a lost memory that her father had kept from her for some time. Now, she only wishes for her mother by her bedside.

‘I believe that your father is a true gentleman, always kind, always forgiving. Understand that he is never to be judged.’ Mother’s lost words, it may have been her last from what she could recall. Never had she dared to question her father’s motives, the reasons for why he locks up the rooms. Barricades her windows, locks away her as if she is ancient treasure. He may be caring, but he is so unclear to why he does what he does.  It’s never easy to understand why her father would want to lock her away from the outside world.

Once her father has wished her a harsh goodnight, it’s just her and her own mind that sits on that bed. Pillows torn up from an unknown relative, she thought back to when her father had given her these pillows.

- Father, Father? - 1966 -

“I don’t want you to ask me why I do this, but this set of pillows is for a woman of your kind. Your mother wanted me to give you these, but I don’t believe these pillows are for you. What do you think, huh?”

She opened her mouth, words started to spew out but didn’t hold a steady pacing. “I-I think she was wrong. They aren’t for me, they are for you.”

She handed them to her father like it was a gift from her to him. She could not shake the lifeless glare, the stare of a blood moon owl, a creature that sits in the night waiting for you to go to sleep. Its wings are formed from the many feathers that would be left behind from your pillows. Her father told such stories like these to help her sleep, but it always did the opposite.

“Sickening, I don’t want your charity. It’s a gift from her, I doubt she had any meaning to give this to you.” Always displeased, there was never a moment for him to smile back.

“Father, you were out again. Mother said so, she told me you were out drinking yourself sick.” She may have been little, but she had the eyes of innocence.

Her father with not a care in the world for her kindness. He would continue to push her away until she was depressed, alone, and no longer resented for her father.

“It’s not easy for any of us, your mother was lucky to have found out. I don’t want you to make the same mistake.” That’s all he left her with, words of advice with the harshest meaning hidden from her child-like mind.

- Present Night (Unknown Date) -

‘Sweetness, that’s all I get from your father. He is kind, forgiving, and he never stops trying to make the world we live in a better place to be. He created our world, he created you.’ Mother’s words were always sweet, they never came across as unnerving as her father’s words. His presence was enough to make your skin crawl, his voice was just part of the nightmares to come.

The Little Girl tried to get some sleep that night, the barricaded window rattled. Her floorboards creaking from the sudden movements of the wind downstairs. Her father was always silent, no snoring as if he was dead silent, it would be impossible to ever know if he had left the room or not. What her mother didn’t know about this man is the nights of terror her daughter endured from the creatures that came out from behind the many boxes. Every shadow held a secret, whispers around the room would continue for many hours.

There would then be a moment once every night where her father would transform without his eyesight. Out from the shadows two glass eyes would stare with hopelessness into her eyes. The stars outside would shine on them if they could, but the room was secreted in darkness. There was never going to be a moment where light could shine through. Tall, his work clothing almost rich. A sinister grin on his face with arms disconnected from his shoulders. Almost hanging off limbs, yet they stayed in place as if they were connected all along. She would have to cry herself to sleep, as there would never be a moment for her to close her eyes in peace.

She held onto her blanket with all her might, hiding behind the cover afraid of the tall figure standing over her. Its presence would always be at night, out from the darkness it approaches. Out from the shadows followed by children’s whispers and crying. The floorboards would creak, nails scraping off the wooden surface. She would sometimes look to her left to see several children trying to repair themselves in a war-like scenario. To the right she would sometimes have the unfortune of seeing her mother hanging from the ceiling. Her father would always be in the middle, transformed, disgusting, vile, just an abomination of many nightmares formed into one.

“Shush, don’t close your eyes on me just yet. It’s about time you wake up.” Its voice full of evilness, the screeches it would form were horrific.

Every word it would speak in the night would be followed by unfortunate children crying, whispers going around the room. ‘Murder’, ‘Death’, ‘Empty.’ Sometimes it was more threatening, ‘Die’, ‘Forget about your life’, ‘Cut yourself’. These children knew more than what they would have known in real life.

The Little Girl’s nights would always start with harshness. Before she can react to the shadows that speak, the creature approaches and the night goes on for many more hours. Although, she can never recall the time of these events, her father had never placed a clock in her room. A long time ago she was fortunate enough to tell the time, her mother would stand by the clock trying to teach her as a young girl. Her father would burst in with an angry voice, and before she can reach out for her mother’s arms, her father would stand in her way swaying about like a dying tree.

“Wake up, no wonder he sees nothing in you.” The tall figure would speak, “so, you don’t think so? No wonder she weeps in her sleep.”

Words would form, she would speak but never interrupt. “I don’t understand, why would you come here?”

“Shush, It’s just you in this room. The old man himself would be laughing at you right now, mocking your stupidity. What a mockery you have made of this family.”

“Be quiet, I don’t have to listen to you or your words.” At this time in her life she had enough backbone to hold an army.

“Oh dear, it’s clear that you aren’t the brightest in this room. If you were, maybe all of this would just disappear. Just maybe, it would all vanish before your very eyes.”

“I want my mommy, my mother, I want her back.” She wept, the emotions she had to hold in were too much to hold back.

“Shameful, I don’t recall you ever asking for her before. Then again, it’s not like you can remember anything. All of this is just a dream to you, an emotion seeping through maybe? Oh well, I enjoy the moments we share together.” Its voice entering her mind, it would not leave, she tried to shake her head and it would remain inside her.

“Parasites are what I believe you would call us. Always drinking from the innocent, no wonder you think we are different. It’s a real shame you haven’t asked us why we are who we are.” Full of riddles, it’s always asking her things that she can’t respond to.

“Just leave me alone! I’m better off here than with you.” She cried, her tears wouldn’t stop.

“Alone? Loneliness wouldn’t get you out of here. I dare say that the reason you are here is because of your lonely soul. How tragic it is to see a young girl cry for her mother. The amount of emotions we have are endless, no wonder we always cry in the night.” Soulless eyes, tallness like a tree, it stood tall over her with its evil presence.

 

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