Thirteen Years

Maybe it was this disconnection from reality that gave me the strength to outrun the one who followed me. Or maybe it, or he, or them, wanted to let me escape. I reached the wall and with a surprising ease my hands and legs remembered just the right movements to climb it.

Then, just when I thought I had escaped, a pain shot through my right foot, and I felt I was being pulled back into the garden.

Instinctively I kicked with my other foot, while holding on to the wall I had climbed half way. And really, whatever was pulling me back let go of me, and I could hear an angry growl. As fast as I could I pushed myself all the way up the wall and hopefully into security, then turned around.

Somewhere under me there stood an animal. It looked like a big wolf at one moment, then again reminded me of a reptile. It was dark, I couldn't see it very well, but its green eyes seemed to glow, they were cold like reptile's eyes and stared up at me. Then the creature turned around and disappeared into the darkness. I couldn't help the feeling that it wouldn't have been easy to pull me back into the garden, that it let me go on purpose. At the same time, memory of how it looked started blurring at the same moment it was gone. I wasn't even sure it had really been there. The pain in my leg, however, felt very real.

Still on the wall, I took a look at the damage: An open wound showed the strength of the strange animal's teeth. The blood that was oozing out of it looked almost black. When I touched it, I almost screamed of pain. I had to go to a doctor. The thought of walking back to town with this leg scared me, but the way my leg looked and felt, it should be taken care of as soon as possible.

I looked down into the cemetery, that seemed safe and inviting despite the fog wading between the grave stones – once I was there, I was really away from my childhood home, I thought. However, the ground was a fair bit underneath me. I took a deep breath and jumped, trying to hit the ground first with my healthy leg.

***

It hurt less than I thought. Now, in safety, I took a deep breath, and started walking towards where I hoped to find the still open cemetery gate. I wasn't quite sure which direction was right, but since the cemetery was only a small one I thought I would find it quite easily.

Soon my fear caught up with me though. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the nightly graveyard, the grave stones I only really saw when I stood right in front of them, the fog that was growing thicker by the minute, the sounds of the wind. I started to feel watched, I believed to see moving shapes in the corner of my eyes, but when I turned, there was nothing. And it became ever clearer that I could not find the gate.

The pain in my foot grew as well, and finally I sat down on a grave stone to rest a bit – even though I wanted to leave the place as soon as I could, I had decided it to be a good idea to think things through.

I am not sure how to describe, what happened next. No description seems to do it justice. Basically, I heard a voice saying my name. Not just any voice – it was my mother's voice. And it came from the grave underneath me.

Any other day I would have been convinced I was asleep, and the nightmares of the first few years after her death had returned – but with what had happened already in the last few hours I saw a possibility of that I wasn't going insane and this was really happening, and some of my fear turned into a vague feeling of hope.

It took me a few attempts to find my voice, but finally I managed to utter one word.

"Mom!"

"My daughter! Is it really you, sweetheart?"

I closed my eyes when I heard her voice, imagining being a little girl again. I didn't dare to open them, because I wasn't sure I could stop myself from crying when once again I was faced with the dark cemetery instead of our warm kitchen and my mother's smile.

"You have to help me", she continued. "You can bring me back to life."

"But..." I couldn't believe I was having this conversation. Part of my head told me it wasn't real. But my heart wished so much that it was. "But are you dead?" was all I could think of to say.

"I am and I am not", I heard my mother's voice say. "I am in a place that is worse than death. What has been buried in this grave was not my body, and yet I am in this grave, I passed through it to another world. And today, thirteen years later, is the only day I can go back and become alive again."

"But how can I..."

"It's the necklace. He lost it in the house back then, thirteen years ago, and since it was midnight already, he had to return with me. He came to look for it now, he needs it. You have to try to find it first, then put it around your neck and bring it here."

The thought of returning to the burned ruin of the house made me shiver.

"Will you do that for me?" my mother's voice insisted.

I took a deep breath. She was my mother, the one person that ever had been truely important to me.

"Yes," I said.

"Then go. You need to hurry. Maybe he's found it already."

I turned around when I heard the voice call out my name again.

"Does he know you are here?" my mother asked.

"Yes, I think so," I said with a shiver in my voice.

"That makes it more difficult, but not impossible. There is another way, a harder one. If he finds you, or finds the necklace before you do, you have to keep him from coming back here before midnight. After midnight the way back will be sealed for him, and that might help to set me free. If he finds you, you have to do whatever is necessary to keep him from coming here in time. Please..."

I nodded my head even though I wasn't sure she could see me, but I just couldn't get another word out of me, I was too confused about it all. When I turned around again, she didn't call me back anymore, and I returned to the cemetery walls to climb back into the garden. I was surprised at how easy I found the right place this time, almost as if the cemetery grew bigger and smaller depending on if it wanted me to get lost or find my way...

***

I will never forget what it felt like to take the first steps back in the garden, after having jumped down from the wall. The pain in my foot had diminuished, it just felt numb now. Or maybe it was the adrenalin, that made me not notice it anymore. It was as if everything, the tall trees and the dark shrubs and bushes, the ruin of the house and the mist wading through the garden had eyes that followed my every step. I could hardly see where I was going, yet I felt exposed to the view of something that I knew was out there somewhere.

The wind had died down and the screeching of the trees had stopped. Instead, my own steps on the dead grass echoed through the garden, no matter how quietly I tried to walk. The echo sounded like someone else was following me closely. Every few seconds I stopped and held my breath to listen into the darkness, but the silence that then surrounded me was almost worse than the thought of that it might be not only my own steps I had heard.

Where should I look for the necklace though? And how could I ever find it without a flashlight – mine was by now, completely dead. I was quite certain that the necklace must be somewhere in the house, and despite the mist I could recognize the dark ruin in front of me.

With some effort I found my way back to the entrance, and up the stairs. Inside the house it was even darker than the garden, but the fact that there was no fog indoors made it a bit easier to see.

My first thought was to try the hiding hole in the wall. I managed to get into the living room without bumping into anything, and knelt down to reach into the hole with my hand. But even a thorough search of its farthest corners didn't lead to any results. Disappointed I stood back up.

Just at that moment I heard a screech of wooden planks, and my heart started beating faster – was that the floor underneath me, or was there someone else walking nearby? I held my breath to listen, there seemed to be a faint sound coming from upstairs, like someone tip-toeing from one room to another. Somehow, relief mixed into my fear: At least now I knew for sure he was here, and where he was. And from the fact that he was upstairs I assumed that this was, where I should best look for the necklace.

As silently as I could, I snuck towards the staircase, hoping it would still be safe enough for me to use. I concentrated on walking as quietly as I could. As long as the other one didn't know I was here, I had an advantage.

When I bumped into something soft and warm I was taken by surprise, and a small scream escaped my mouth, it's echo sounding loudly through the house. Then, I heard a strangely familiar voice whispering:

"Quiet! You will wake up everyone!"

To my surprise it was a child's voice, and when I looked very carefully, I believed to recognize the silhouette of a little child, not older than four or five, in front of me.

"What others? Who are you? What are you doing here?" I whispered back.

"The others... Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa... And what do you mean, what am I doing here? I live here. This is my dad's house."

"But you can't live here! This is a ruin. It's a house that burned down a long time ago."

"You are weird. It's just a normal house."

The next second, a light went on – the little boy in front of me had switched a lightswitch at the foot of the stairs. For a few moments I saw the staircase, it was not burned and broken. The walls were white and decorated with pictures, some of them similar to the ones I had known to hang there from my childhood, others that were new to me. At the same moment I realized, that the smell of decay and ashes was gone, as was the cold.

I stared at what surrounded me, and then turned my eyes to the child in front of me. The boy looked up to me with innocent eyes, seemingly not surprised at all at my presence. It was the same boy I had seen earlier this day in town, and I suddenly realized that he did not only look like his mother, my former best friend, but that there was also something about him that reminded me of myself.

A moment later the lights went back off, and at the same time the cold wind and the feeling of standing in a ruin returned. I knew the boy had dissappeared with the decorations and the warmth.

***

While I carefully set my feet on one step after another up the staircase, part of me was wondering if I was caught in a strange dream, whether maybe I had fallen asleep in my car. Twice I almost slipped, and one time a step screeched so loudly I was sure anyone else in the ruin would hear it. But then, my scream a few minutes earlier must have already anounced my presence.

Finally I had reached the upper floor. It was a bit lighter here: Parts of the roof were broken, and a faint and diffuse bit of light entered the building. Again, I thought I could feel eyes staring at me from every shadowy corner. My instinct, my reason, everything told me to just turn around, rush down the stairs, leave the house to never return. But the memory of my mother's voice, the desperate hope of turning my life back to something resembling what it had been so many years ago when I was still a child, and the wish to keep my promise kept me going.

I didn't know where to start looking for that necklace and I didn't even know what it looked like, but my feet led me almost automatically to the door of my own bed room. And to my surprise, a little bit of yellowish warm light seemed to escape from underneath the door. I held my breath as I carefully opened the door – it was almost intact – and peeked into the room.

What I saw was far from anything I had expected.

The room was decorated just the way I remembered it. There were the colorful paintings I had made and pinned to the wall with my mother's help. There were various toys and pencils strewn over the floor. There were the shelves with all my favourite books. There was the colorful carpet I had received for Christmas just the year before, covering the wooden floor.

And on the carpet, right in the middle of the room, there sat two little girls: My own, eight year old self, and my best friend Sharon.

We had dressed up as little fairies, and were just now busy putting make up on our faces, a difficult and entertaining job. Just now I was trying out the lip stick, while Sharon held a mirror so I could look into it.

I remembered the day as if it was yesterday: Sharon had come over to my house to dress up, then we had both gone into town for trick and treating, and afterwards I had slept over at her house so I could celebrate her birthday with her, which was just the day after Halloween.

I opened the door a bit wider to see more of the scene in front of me. The girls did not look up and they did not seem to notice me. I could hear their – our – voices, talking about the party that was planned for next day.

"I bet I know what my parents will get me", Sharon sounded very excited. "They won't tell, but I bet I know."

"I wish it was my birthday, too," I heard myself reply. "I still have to wait for so long."

"It will be there eventually", Sharon said, copying her mother's tone and words, as she always had done. "Only... only a few more months... Wait, let me see."

She closed her eyes for a moment in order to think.

"We have October now. So, November, December." she held up her hands to count along with the help of her fingers. "January."

My eight year old self chimed in.

"February, March, April, May, June, July..."

"See," Sharon said. "Only nine more months."

The next moment, the lights went off, and I realised I was looking into a dark, empty room above which, a part of the roof was missing. On the floor there were what was left of the carpet, and some plastic toys that had melted into an unrecognizable mess.

***

The next place I tried was my mother's old bed room. I entered it carefully – this time there was no light, no strange people and no sounds. I seemed to have returned to reality, if what I was living at the time was real.

I couldn't stop thinking of the two little girls, of my own face, that had seemed so unknowing of the future this life held for me, of our voices May, June, July – nine months and of my Mom's letter Let me take you thirteen years back, to another cold and stormy Halloween night.

I walked around a bit in the room, looked into various corners, pushed aside pieces of broken and burned furniture, the broken remains of a bed, and glass from a burst window. Eventually I gave up and turned to the door – and there I saw the shadow of a person.

"Looking for something?" a strange voice said, and at the same moment a candle lit up and cast its light into the the dark room, and onto the man standing in the doorframe.

He was tall, had dark hair, and the most intense eyes I had ever seen. I could tell they were green even in the dim flickering light of the candle. He held the candle in his left hand, while leaning to the door frame with his left shoulder. His right hand was at the height of his face, and he held something between his fingers that sparkled in the light: it looked like a thin silver necklace.

I stayed just where I was, unable to move or say anything. He had found me. He had probably known where I was all along, and had decided this was the right moment to reveal his presence to me. And he had what I was looking for. My mother's words echoed in my head: "You have to do whatever it takes to get the necklace, or at least to keep him from coming back here. Please." The memory of her face, so many years ago, was still fresh in my mind. The memory of the sudden end of my childhood, the loneliness I had felt throughout the last thirteen years. If she was back, all would be good, I was sure of that. I had to get that necklace.

The man stopped leaning to the doorframe and took a step toward me. Instinctively I backed a bit, and to my surprise found the wall of the room right behind me.

"It was in the attic," he said with a smile, his tone was that of someone holding a light and normal conversation with an old friend. "Your mother really is a smart woman, she knew I wouldn't find it easily there."

He took another step toward me. The light of the candle gave his face a strange appearance but, I could still tell that he was very good looking. I can't think of any description that would do him justice, of the right words to tell of the strands of hair hanging into his face, of the bright smile that contrasted with the deepness of his eyes. He didn't seem much older than me, but at the same time there was something about him that made me think he might have lived for centuries. I remembered my mother's letter, I knew it was him, but to my surprise he seemed very human. If it wasn't for his eyes, I would have thought it was just someone from town who had followed me into the house to play a cruel joke on me.

He held up the necklace.

"It's nice, isn't it?" he said in the same casual tone. "It would look really good on a pretty girl like you. Maybe I should just give it to you."

I stared at him. There was no way for me to flee, and I didn't know what to reply. I would have to wait to see what would happen, but I was sure he wouldn't give me the necklace and set my mother free just that easily.

"Of course, you would have to give me something in return," he continued, and took yet another step toward me. He was now standing right in front of me, only the candle and its light seemed to seperate us. The necklace in his hand was so close to me, I thought for a moment I could just grab it and then push him out of my way and run. But I remained motionless, staring back into his eyes. It seemed that he held me to where I was just by looking at me.

"Really, you are even more beautiful than I imagined." His voice had changed now, the slightly mocking tone from it had gone. "Have you allowed any of the humans to touch you?"

He reached out with his hand, the same hand that held the necklace, and touched my cheeks, just barely, with his fingers. His touch surprised me, it felt more real than I had thought it would, it felt human and warm. For a moment I wanted to forget where I was and who I knew him to be. At the same time, though, the very thought of him touching me gave me a feeling of fear and disgust.

"No, of course you haven't." His voice sounded satisfied. "Your beauty would have been destroyed by it. You weren't made for them."

His hand ran down from my cheek to my neck, and further down. My heart started beating faster when I realised what direction it was traveling to, and I had to summon all my inner strength to back away a little bit, just as much as the wall allowed me.

May, June, July! a voice chanted in my mind. another stormy and cold Halloween afternoon. My head hurt. I was in the third month of pregnancy.

"But... you are... my..." I couldn't say it.

"Your father?" he laughed.

Only when I heard the word, the whole truth of it dawned upon me, for a few seconds the memories of my childhood, strange things I had observed about myself flashed in my mind. Could this really be the reason for it all? Was it true?

May, June, July! May, June, July! I wasn't sure if I remembered myself counting the months so many years ago, or recalled the scene I had witnessed just minutes earlier.

I don't have a father. Everybody has a father. I was born in July.

The mocking tone that had returned to his voice was what called me back into the dark room, back to the man standing in front of me, back to the necklace in his hand that could maybe help me to find some normality in my life, help me ignore the things I had learned that day.

"You have lived in this world for too long. You think in human terms. We don't have mothers or fathers, or if we do, they are not any different to us than anyone else. But you are willing to risk your life for the woman you refer to as mother. How much else are you willing to do for her?"