FicWad

Running, running, through the field. Am I running from something, or to something, I can’t tell. All I know is that I run, and run, until finally I fall to the ground with a stitch in my side. My breathing is heavy, my body is sweaty, I can’t run anymore. That is when the shadows come, they steal over my body, and take my soul. Leaving me an empty shell, nothing can stop them. Nothing can make them go away. Unless I get up, and run some more, because I know if I stop running, then the shadows will triumph and I can’t let them win.

Susan woke up with a start, she had been having the dream again, the same dream she’d had for a week. Since she moved into her new house, it seemed. She was running, but she didn’t know why, at first she wasn’t even sure if she was running from or to something. Then when she fell to the ground . . . She shook her head, unable, unwilling to finish the rest of the dream. She could still feel the coldness, clamminess of the shadows, creeping over her skin, and she shivered, pulling the covers over her shoulders.
Finally she got up and walked toward the mirror, staring at herself. She looked so pale, and scared, haunted was the word that came to mind. And for a moment she thought she saw a shadow behind her, but when she turned, of course there was nothing there.
“Just your imagination Susan,” she muttered, then went and got dressed.

That morning, she decided to clean out the attic of the new old house, as she called it that she had bought. She had seen the house when on a vacation to Cape Cod, the first vacation since Tim’s death, and she had known she wanted to buy it. So she took the money she had gotten in the settlement from Tim’s accident, and left New York. Now she owned a house, that had been one of the original in the town.
The real estate agent said it was rumored to be haunted, but she hadn’t seen anything. That was until the dreams had started. Now she was seeing shadows everywhere, and starting to wish she hadn’t bought such a big, gloomy house.
She pushed the dreary thoughts from her mind and went up the steep narrow stairs, to the attic. It was like a wonderland up here, every previous occupant had left something behind it seemed.
Susan passed a mirror, that had a sheet partially draped over it, and a rocking chair. Then she came to a closed door, she tried to open it, but it was locked and she stood there, wondering what was behind it. Finally an idea came to her, and she turned, hurrying down the stairs to the kitchen. The realtor had given her a skeleton key, just in case, she grabbed it from the junk drawer and went back up into the attic, trying the key in the lock. It fit, and the door opened, creaking from disuse.
She stood in the door way and looked into what seemed to be a servant’s bedroom, but why it was locked and so carefully preserved, she didn’t know. She walked in and felt a sudden, strange coldness, a movement at the corner of her eye made her turn and she was sure she saw a shadow.
She shook her head, and walked farther into the room.
“Lizette,” came a whisper, so near her, that she turned, sure someone was in the room with her.
There of course was no one, and she just shook her head again.
She looked at the dresser with a mirror attached, on it were a hair brush, and body oils, it looked like the person who had owned the room, had just left and would soon return.
Susan walked toward the dresser and looked up, into the mirror and gasped. The shadowy figure of a man stood there, staring at her.
She turned quickly and saw nothing, but even though she tried to convince herself that it was nothing, her pounding heart told her otherwise.
She quickly walked back to the door, and shut it, locking it again with the skeleton key. Suddenly she had no desire to explore the attic and she turned, hurrying quickly down the stairs.

For the rest of the day she got the house in order, and tried not to think about the attic, about what she had seen, but it stayed there, at the back of her mind.
Finally it was time for bed, and she put on a night gown and crawled between the sheets. For a moment she stroked the empty pillow next to her and like always missed Tim. She blinked back tears, it was so unfair, that he had been taken so cruelly from her. The victim of a drunk driver.
Finally she drifted off to sleep, her hand still resting on Tim’s pillow.

Standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the frothing surf below.
“We must do it Lizette,” a man’s voice said beside her, and she turned, gasping.
It was Tim, but yet not Tim, and she backed away from him.
“This is the only way for us to be together my love,” the man said, holding out his hand. “My parents will never let us marry, not with you being a servant. We are not of the same class. It’s better that we die together, instead of living apart.”
She realized he thought she was his love, and he wanted them to jump together.
“No,” she said, “I can’t.”
She turned and ran away, as the man yelled in anger, suddenly she heard a horrible scream, then nothing and she knew, that he had somehow fallen off the cliff.
“Run, quickly,” came a voice, “they’ll blame you for this. Get your belongings and run.”
She ran, toward the house, and up the back stairs, to the attic. Quickly she grabbed her satchel and began to stuff things into it. Then she looked up into the mirror and gasped....”

Susan suddenly woke up, and laid there for a moment, drenched in sweat. It was her face, when she had looked into the mirror, that she had seen. But like Tim, it was different, like it was her, but not her.
Suddenly she saw a shadow, slowly moving past her door and she tensed.
The shadow suddenly vanished as quickly as it had come, and Susan looked at the clock, realizing that it was morning. She got up, dressed and went to the kitchen to eat breakfast.
After she had eaten, she realized she wanted to know what had happened, she knew that somehow this house was connected, that the room in the attic was Lizette’s. She got her keys and went outside, locking the door, she got into her car and looked up to the attic, where she thought she saw the shadowy figure of a man looking down at her.
She shivered and started the car, pulling out of the driveway and driving toward town.

When she got to town, she saw the sign for the local library and she pulled into the parking lot.
She got out, locked the car and walked inside the cool dim building. After asking the librarian for help she found local history books and began to read them.
She spent hours reading the books and was almost about to give up when a old yellowed newspaper clipping fell out into her lap.
She began to read it.
“Today was the funeral of the son of the town’s leading citizen. He died in a tragic accident, apparently slipping while walking along the cliffs by his house. Merrick Jamison was twenty-three years old and the sole heir to the Jamison fortune.”
Susan felt her heart pound as she stared at the small grainy picture of Merrick. It was the man from her dreams, the one who resembled Tim.
She felt cold, knowing that she had seen Merrick’s last moments on earth. Somehow, she was intertwined with Lizette and she had to find out why.
She began to look some more, but didn’t find any mention of a woman named Lizette.
Finally she stood up and put the books back, before walking toward the check out desk.
“Did you find everything you needed my dear?” The older woman behind the counter asked.
“I was wondering,” Susan said, feeling stupid for asking. “Is there anyone named Lizette who was once a servant for the old Jamison house?”
The woman looked at her in surprise then nodded.
“Why yes,” she said, “my mother.”
She looked closer at Susan.
“You resemble her,” she said, then picked up a pen. “If you would like to meet her, I can give you her number.”
“Yes please,” Susan said, and took the piece of paper from the woman.
She went outside and got her cell phone, calling the number.
“This will probably sound crazy,” she told the woman on the phone. “But I think Merrick Jamison is haunting me.”
The woman on the other end got quiet, then finally said, “please come by, I want to see you.”
She gave Susan her address, and a time for a meeting.

Susan drove up to the house wondering if she was crazy, she should just drive back to her house. Pack up what she needed, then leave, forever.
Instead she got out and walked to the front door, knocking on it.
An elderly woman answered and as soon as she saw Susan her eyes widened.
“You look like me,” she said, “when I was young.”
She opened the door farther and let Susan in.
They went to the front room and sat down, Susan reached out and grasped Lizette’s hand.
“Tell me about Merrick,” she said, and Lizette smiled.
“He was such a sweet and handsome man,” she said, “a wonderful lover. I fell in love with him almost the first moment I saw him. He with me as well.”
She looked off into the distance.
“We tried to spend as much time with each other as we could, stolen moments of love. Then his mother found out about us, she had a fit, threatened to fire me, to disown him, if the relationship didn’t stop. That night Merrick came to me with a plan, since we couldn’t be together in life, we would in death.”
She looked at Susan.
“We decided to go to the cliffs and jump that night,” she said softly. “But once we got there, I found I couldn’t, I ran away and when he tried to chase after me, he slipped and fell off the cliff.”
She dabbed her eyes.
“I left the mansion that night,” she said, “in fear that they would blame me for his death. It was only later that I found out that they had ruled it an accident.”
She squeezed Susan’s hand.
“I fear that he thinks you’re me,” she said, “and he’s seeking to finish what was started so many years ago. Please, don’t go back, leave, because if you don’t I fear he’ll never let you live.”
Susan stared at the woman and nodded, standing up.
“Thank you,” she said, and left the house, walking toward her car.
She had to go back, she knew, she had to pack her things. But she wouldn’t spend another night in that house.
Quickly she started the car and drove down the driveway, toward her house.

Lizette looked out the window and sighed, the young woman wouldn’t listen, she knew she wouldn’t. She would go back, and Merrick would drive her to jump off the cliff. Lizette didn’t know how she knew, she just knew.
She heavily plodded to her chair and sat down, lying her head against the back. There was nothing she could do, and she knew it. Sighing one last time she closed her eyes.

Susan parked the car, staring up at the attic window. The shadow wasn’t there and she was glad. Quickly she hurried to the house and unlocked the door, she ran up to her room and packed. Then hurried out into the hallway.
Suddenly she stopped, the attic door was open, and she set her suitcase down, walking toward the stairs.
She began to ascend the steps, as if under another’s power.
Finally she reached the top and looked down the hallway, the door to Lizette’s room was open and she smiled, before walking toward it.
She stepped inside and saw the tall figure of a man standing by the bed.
“Merrick,” she murmured and he turned, looking at her.
“Finally my love,” he said softly, “we will be together in death.”
He held out a hand and Susan took it, smiling up at him.
He bent down and kissed her softly, before looking into her eyes.
“Are you ready my love?” He asked and she nodded.
“Good,” he said, then began to lead her out of the room.
Somehow they were at the cliffs, although Susan had no recollection of getting there.
“Finish what we started,” Merrick said, “jump and we can be together, forever.”
Susan looked down at the frothing waves, and nodded.
“Yes my love,” she said softly, before taking a step forward.
She began to fall, when a hand grabbed her, pulling her upwards, away from the cliff.
She slowly woke up, as if from a dream and looked at her rescuer.
Lizette held her hand in surprisingly strong grip, then she let it go and turned, looking at Merrick.
“I’m sorry my love,” she said, “I was weak and afraid. I left you to suffer death alone.”
She held out her hand, “but now,” she said softly, “now I’m ready.”
Merrick smiled and took Lizette’s hand, suddenly Lizette was young again, and she walked toward the cliffs with Merrick.
“Never in life,” came a whisper as they disappeared, “forever in death.”

Susan called the realtor that night and put the house up for sale, never wanting to sleep in it again. The next day she got newspapers for packing and quickly began boxing her stuff. She pulled a piece of paper up, then stopped looking at it.
“Lizette Sanford,” it said, “beloved mother of Samantha Sanford died yesterday in her sleep, she was seventy-six years old.”
Susan dropped the newspaper with trembling hands and got up, yesterday, she thought. It hadn’t been a dream, she had seen Lizette’s ghost, she had been saved by her.
Slowly she walked toward the window, and looked out, thinking for a moment she could see the shadowy figures of Lizette and Merrick walking along the cliffs.
She turned and finished packing, leaving the mansion, never to return.

The young woman walked the house, wondering if it was a good buy. She looked down the hall where her husband was talking to the realtor, then went up the stairs to the attic.
She stopped at the top, and looked down the dim hallway, before turning back to go downstairs. Behind her, the door to the locked room opened slowly.