This story is called "Molly" and I wrote it for my daughter, Milly ❤️
Tap! Tap! Tap!
What was that noise?
Jo left the comfort and warmth of her favourite armchair and ventured into the kitchen to investigate the sound.
The kitchen was lit only by the faint glow of the moon as the wind howled outside and a shiver that wasn't entirely due to the frigid tiles under her feet ran down her spine.
She crossed to the kitchen sink, tightening the tap and halting the offending sound. She needed to get someone to look at it as she was sure she kept tightening it, yet it still seemed to loosen itself, causing the annoying sound as the water hit the bottom of the sink.
A shadow detached itself from the corner, making Jo start, her heart beating a pulse in her throat, before she realised what it was.
"Molly, you scared me!" she said, bending to scoop up the midnight black cat, stroking her ears as she scolded her. Molly's yellow eyes took on a fluorescent hue in the twilight as she stared back at Jo, completely unperturbed by the mock scolding from her owner, her purr a throaty hum vibrating through her body. Returning to the living room, Jo curled up in the chair again with Molly settled on her lap.
She was so absorbed in the gritty murder mystery drama on TV that the crash from upstairs had her leaping from her chair, causing Molly to need one of her nine lives to land safely as she was launched from Jo's lap in the process.
"What the...!"
Images of intruders and burglars sprang to mind and Jo's pulse thundered in her ears. Quelling her fears, she grabbed the metal poker from the fireplace and made her way upstairs.
Each stair seemed to complain loudly underfoot as Jo settled her weight on them, the wood squeaking and groaning in a way which felt eerily ominous.
Halfway up, a shadow suddenly raced across the ceiling, as if projected by someone or something. Instinctively, Jo stumbled backward, letting out a squeak as she felt something brushing against the back of her legs. Looking down, she released a shaky breath as she realised it was only Molly, who had decided to follow close behind. Molly thought she was a guard dog.
Chiding herself for her overactive imagination, Jo forced herself onward until she reached the top of the stairs, quickly checking the bedrooms before entering the bathroom.
The source of the crash became clear as she spied the broken mirror on the floor. She couldn't recall leaving the bathroom window open, but the wind had obviously blown the small mirror from the shelf, fracturing it into what seemed like a thousand shards on the hard floor.
Ten minutes later, Jo settled back into her chair once again, having closed the bathroom window securely and safely disposed of all evidence of the broken mirror.
What was the saying about seven years of bad luck when a mirror broke? Jo hoped not! This was her first night in her new home and the thought of seven years of bad luck filled her with unease, especially after the conversation she'd had with her neighbour earlier that day.
The neighbour, an older lady who'd introduced herself as Mary, had suddenly appeared on her doorstep. Jo remembered being impressed at how smartly the woman was dressed, an old-fashioned elegance to the woman who looked to be in her eighties. There was an odd familiarity about the woman, something tugging at Jo's subconscious, as if they'd met before. She'd shrugged it off, thinking that maybe Mary just looked like someone else she knew.
Mary had welcomed her to the neighbourhood and wasted no time in telling her that the family who had lived there had always thought the house was haunted. Noises that couldn't be explained and things that went missing, only to be found at some later date in a completely different place, Mary had explained, her voice almost a whisper.
Jo had smiled inwardly at the older woman's tales, not for one moment believing in ghosts or 'things that go bump in the night'. She'd thanked Mary for her visit, assuring her that she would take the older woman up on her offer of help should she need anything whilst she was settling in.
Coming back to the present, Jo tried to lose herself in the murder mystery drama again, Molly a warm bundle of fur in her lap.
She must have dozed off as she was startled awake by...something. Was it a noise or a feeling? She wasn't sure, but something had stirred her from her slumber. The hairs on her arms stood on end and goosebumps shivered over her skin as the strange feeling intensified.
As the haze of sleep lifted, Jo heard it again - the sound of someone walking on the floorboards upstairs.
Oh God!
Leaping from the chair for a third time, she became aware that Molly was no longer with her. Looking around, she saw that the room had taken on a coldness, as if all the colour had leached from the room while she slept.
Jo was surprised not to feel any remnants of heat coming from the now empty fireplace, where not an hour ago, the flames had leapt and danced with a glorious heat. Grabbing the poker again she headed back upstairs, summoning up anger to override the fear she was feeling. If someone was in her house, she wasn't going down without a fight! The weight of the poker felt familiar and reassuring in her hand.
Cautiously, she crept along the landing, pushing open first one door and then another, checking two of the three bedrooms. As she approached the third, smallest bedroom, she could hear shuffling and sniffling. This room was directly over the living area and most likely where the sound that had woken her had originated from.
Raising the metal poker behind her with her right hand, she pushed the door open with her left, her breath huffing out in little gasps as her eyes tried to adjust to the dimness of the room. She reached quickly for the light switch on the wall, flicking it several times before realising that the bulb must have blown.
The shuffling and sniffling grew louder and Jo's eyes rounded with terror and shock as a figure emerged from the corner of the room.
Stumbling, she backed up, unable to make sense of what her eyes were telling her. How could this be? She took another step back and another, until her foot found fresh air and she tumbled backward down the stairs...
Jo came to with a start as a face swam in front of her eyes. Stifling a scream, Jo tried to get up.
"Shhh. It's okay, Jo," a familiar voice reassured her. The face came into focus and with a sigh of relief, Jo realised it was Mary.
"H...how did you...?" Jo's words trailed off, as Mary smiled kindly down at her, offering her hand to help Jo up.
"Don't worry about that now, Jo," Mary replied. "Come. Sit down. You've had a nasty scare."
Jo followed Mary uncertainly through to the living area, noticing with confusion that the fire was burning merrily in the grate again, the room warm and welcoming.
Jo sank into her chair on shaky legs as Mary took a seat on the sofa opposite. Molly reappeared and jumped up onto Jo's lap and she instinctively stroked her soft fur. Molly's approving purr helped a little to soothe Jo's frazzled nerves.
"I saw..." Jo began.
"I know," Mary interrupted. "I know what you saw, Jo," she continued, her blue eyes crinkling kindly as she smiled at her.
"But how? I don't understand..."
"Not yet, but you will in a moment," Mary promised. She reached forward, her arm stretching across the small distance to grasp Jo's cold hand in her warm one. ""You saw Charlie."
"Charlie? Who's Charlie?" Jo asked, becoming more confused by the minute.
"Charlie is the little boy who lives here," Mary replied, softly.
"The little boy who...? There's no little boy! I live here!" Jo's voice held an edge of panic.
"You used to live here, Jo," Mary replied, her eyes full of patience and understanding.
"I used to...? You're mad! What on earth are you talking about?" Jo felt like nothing had made sense since she'd come to at the bottom of the stairs.
"Think, Jo! What is the last thing you remember? Really remember? Do you remember moving in here? Do you remember the last time you went out anywhere? The last time it was daylight and the sun was shining through the windows?"
"I...I..." Jo racked her brains, trying to remember any of the things that Mary had mentioned.
When was the last time she'd been out? Felt the sun on her face? She looked down at Molly, still absently stroking her soft fur. As if sensing her stare, Molly looked back at her, her warm, yellow eyes stirring something buried deeply inside Jo. A fragment of memory broke loose, images flashing behind her eyes in a disjointed kaleidoscope of smells and colours...
She'd been downstairs, cursing and trying to fix the constantly dripping tap when she heard the crash upstairs. Heart racing, she'd grabbed the metal poker from the fireplace tightly in her hand and cautiously climbed the stairs. She'd passed the boxes on the landing waiting to be unpacked, the items from her old life waiting to furnish her new home spilling from the cardboard containers.
The small bathroom mirror lay in splinters on the floor where a gust of wind from the open window had obviously toppled it from it's place on the shelf.
A scratching and shuffling from the smallest bedroom had made her spin on her heels, the blood pulsing through her veins in icy fear. Someone, or something, was in there!
Raising the metal poker behind her she had pushed the door open, her breath huffing out in little gasps as her eyes had tried to adjust to the dimness of the room. She'd reached for the light switch on the wall, flicking it several times before realising that the previous owners hadn't replaced the bulb.
Out of nowhere, something black with yellow eyes had launched itself at her, scratching and spitting.
With a scream, she'd backed up, her fight or flight instincts kicking in. She'd stumbled backward another step and another, until her foot found fresh air and she tumbled backward down the stairs, taking the frightened cat with her...
Cold realisation dawned on Jo as she came back to the present, her eyes refocusing on Mary's. "Why are you so familiar?"
"Because we've been here before, Jo. You remember now, don't you?"
Jo managed a nod. "How many times...?"
"I've lost count, dear. You wouldn't accept it before. We've been trying to help you since Charlie saw you almost a year ago. You've been on a loop ever since, re-living the last few moments of your life. But now, I think you're ready," Mary said softly. "You worked it out this time. Realised what you are now."
Jo looked down at the cat in her lap, burying her fingers in the soft fur.
Molly was the reason for her death.
An accident.
A terrible, unfortunate accident that had robbed both of them of their lives.
Molly stared back at her, and Jo almost thought she could see remorse in Molly's eyes. Molly had been frightened and scared, abandoned by the previous owners of the house and left to starve, when Jo had stumbled across her.
And Molly hadn't left her side since. She'd waited until Jo was ready.
"It's okay, Molly. I'm ready now," Jo's voice was a mere whisper as she stroked her beloved cat.
Mary leaned forward and placed one hand on Jo's forehead and the other on Molly's purring body, closing her eyes, a small frown pleating her brow...
"Have they gone, Grandma?" the small boy asked, appearing behind the now empty chair.
"Yes, Charlie. They've gone," Mary replied, opening her arms to her grandson, who launched himself into the comfort of her warm hug.
"What happened to them was so sad, Grandma," the little boy said, looking at his Grandma with innocent blue eyes. His eye colour wasn't the only thing he'd inherited from his Grandma.
"It was, darling," Mary agreed. "But they're in a better place now," she said, a faint smile touching her lips as she watched Jo and Molly walk up the hallway together and fade softly into the ether.
THE END
