The Abyss Stares Back - 00

It wasn’t the thunder that woke her, something in the very air was wrong.

Cecile sat up in her bed, gasping and clutching at her throat. Her brow was sweaty and her hair was a mess. Her sheets were all tangled up and her pillows had been thrown onto the floor. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Something had terrified her beyond all measure. Had it been a dream? She couldn’t remember.

She turned to look at the large pendulum clock that stood encased in its tall wooden frame against the wall. It was merely three o’clock. Lightning flashed beyond the curtains of the two windows flanking the clock, and then darkness reclaimed its domain. It was still night outside.

Cecile picked up her pillows and laid back down, wondering why she had woken up in such a state. But then she heard it.

Past the door to her room she heard a metallic clatter. It was brief but she heard it. Nobody should be up and about at this hour. A part of her begged her to lie back down. To return to the blissful ignorance of sleep. But curiosity compelled her.

Cecile gingerly stepped out of bed and quietly opened her door. Past it she saw the poorly lit hallway. Grandiose paintings hung on the walls, timidly lit by the street lamps outside, flooding in through the windows.

Then she heard it again. A similar clatter but now she heard it coming from downstairs. It had to be coming from the kitchen, but Cecile was certain the help had been sent home for the day. Mother and father were still out on business in Lexingrad. So it had to be her sister, Marlene. But still…what if it wasn’t?

Cecile stalked down the corridor, past the poorly covered windows, past the indifferent gaze of painted ancestors. She quietly descended the stairs, carefully avoiding the one step that always creaked. The ground floor of their luxurious estate was equally enveloped in darkness, save for a sliver of light emanating from the partially closed kitchen door.

She paused for a moment, steeling herself for the dreadful possibility that someone else might be in their home. She peeked through the cracked door and saw her sister Marlene standing by the sink. She looked dazed, most likely sleepwalking.

Oddly enough, the sight of her sister did not banish away her fears. For some reason they only lingered and some primal part of her mind begged her to return to the shadows. To hide away.

A ridiculous thought, one that she mentally waved away as she entered the kitchen.

“Marlene? What are you doing up?”

Her sister did not turn but simply stood with her hands in the sink.

“Thirsty.”

“I’ll make you some soothing tea, how about that?”

Marlene did not answer.

Cecile approached her sister to check on her, the worry in her heart drowning out her inexplicable fear.

“Are you alright?” she asked as she placed a hand on Marlene’s shoulder.

Her sister twitched and spun around, staring at her with a vacant stare. Hot water splashed Cecile’s face, throat and chest and for a moment she thought her sister had thrown a cup at her. All to late she realized her throat had been slashed.

Blood sputtered from her neck as she tried feebly to stem the flow. In mere moments her strength vacated her legs and she collapsed to the floor. Her eyes wide with terror, looked up at her sister now lording over her, clutching a bloody knife in her hand.

“Why.” Cecile tried to ask but only blood escaped her lips.

A consciousness manifested in her sister’s vacant eyes and a wide grin contorted her face. And then she laughed. Not a mild chuckle but a maddening, hysterical laughter as Marlene knelt down and plunged the knife into her sister’s chest.

But the fear of dying did not compare to the terror that Cecile saw in her sister’s eyes. A terror beyond imagination.