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samethyst01 · 3 months

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A Mother's Love: Chapter Six

After the previous night, Coraline was eager to forget her fear and focus on being brave. It wouldn’t be easy, as if she wasn’t being stalked by old memories – old horrors – but if there was one thing she knew about being brave, it’s that it was never easy. Crossing into the waking world, she looked around for any signs of the Cat, but he was long gone. She decided not to rely on him, and instead sent Wybie a text before heading downstairs for breakfast. She wasn’t sure if he had his phone on him, how much he’d recovered, but she hoped he’d see it. She missed that old jerkwad so badly already.

Downstairs, her father was making coffee, already dressed in his work clothes. When he caught her eye, she felt inclined to look away and pretend everything was alright, but there was something in his gaze that urged her to acknowledge everything. So, with trepidation, she did.

“Dad… about yesterday—”

“It’s okay, Coraline…”

Her father sighed and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

“Your mom and I talked about it last night. No matter what we remember about this place, there’s clearly something that you went through… something you haven’t told us about. I’m not asking you to, if you’re not ready. I just want you to know that… that…”

He approached her and gently took her hand in his. She looked up at him nervously. In his eyes was that same mixture of confusion, disappointment and hope, and he was beginning to show how much he was afraid for her.

“I forgive you for not calling. I love you, dearly, and all that matters is that you’re here and you’re alright.”

Coraline began to smile, and she immediately pulled her father into a hug, one that he matched silently. There needn’t have been any more words between them. The gesture already spoke volumes. The two stayed like that for several more seconds before they parted, and as Coraline looked up at her father, she felt a sudden and overpowering urge to tell him everything, from the door to the Other World to the Beldam. However, she heard her mother’s footsteps approaching and instead moved past her father to grab a bowl for cereal.

Charlie saw that look in his daughter’s eyes, and he had been hopeful that she would tell him everything he knew she had been hiding. It seemed, however, that the time wasn’t right. He inhaled slowly before looking over at Mel, who entered a second later. The two shared a silent look that spoke a million words. She sighed in resignation and nodded, and a moment later plastered on a smile before talking to Coraline about her night and how she was settling in. Charlie retrieved a protein bar from the cupboard and unwrapped it, listening in on the conversation.

“—and I think I’m gonna go see the neighbours today. Spink, Forcible, Bobinsky… which reminds me, have you guys talked to them much recently?”

“Oh, not since you moved out, actually. I think they’ve probably passed by this point…”

At her mother’s words, Coraline’s eyes widened and her expression changed to one of shock.

“Wait— you haven’t even gone to check in on them?? Mom, they were so nice to us!”

Charlie sat down next to them and did his best to diffuse the tension.

“It’s not like we never checked up on them, honey. We did, but eventually they stopped answering the door. We can’t just go barging in and—”

Coraline cut him off as she stood up suddenly, finishing her bowl of cereal as she moved around the kitchen.

“Well— if you’re not gonna go talk to them— I will.”

As she washed up her now empty bowl, Mel shrugged and opened up her laptop.

“Suit yourself… just be careful out there, it’s still super muddy from yesterday.”

By that point Coraline had already headed upstairs. Charlie and Mel shared another of those looks, only this time, the former managed to break the silence after a few seconds.

“She still won’t tell me.”

“No… me neither. I just don’t get it… did we do something wrong?”

At his wife’s words, Charlie looked outside into the mist, congealing around the edges of the Pink Palace, fancying for a moment that he could see distant spectres looming and watching them, forever just out of sight.

“I don’t think it’s us she’s wary of…”

******

Her mother was right. It was extremely muddy, and so Coraline slipped on her winter boots and a puffy jacket, opening the front door when she was ready. Beside the door was a familiar hat lying on the floor. She picked it up and dusted it off, waves of memories both pleasant and horrific flooding back to her. It made her smile shakily, and she put the hat on her head after a moment. Then, she stepped out onto the porch, letting out a long sigh. She watched it form into mist, and then disappear into the rest of itself that surrounded the Pink Palace.

Shivering slightly, she turned back to look at the house. She still felt it. That calling. That hunger. It wouldn’t relent, not until the task was finished. Steeling her nerves, Coraline closed the front door and headed down the steps. She turned a corner and suddenly felt something beneath her boot, causing her to stumble. She looked down and nearly screamed at the sight of a large, dirty rat. It shrieked at her and scuttled away into the mist. Consumed with both fright and hatred, she blew a raspberry in the general direction of the escaping rodent.

After a moment, she chuckled at herself. She hadn’t done that in years – usually she’d give something or someone antagonising her a passionate middle finger – not since she was last at the Pink Palace. Perhaps it was fate, or history repeating itself, or her mind instinctually reacting to those memories and forming what it knew to be the only logical response. Coraline shrugged at nothing and no one and began walking towards the stairs that led down to Spink and Forcible’s place.

Every step triggered a memory. Over there, she thought to herself, she and Wybie had gone slug-hunting with the Cat, over there was a large pile of leaves the two had hidden in together once, and over there—

She stopped mid-thought. In that general direction, where her eyes stared, was Mrs Lovat’s house. She had only been to it a few times – Wybie preferred not to take visitors back there, or perhaps his grandmother did – but she remembered it in vivid detail. It was rustic, simple, almost a little unfortunate in comparison to the majesty of the Pink Palace. What it lacked in grandiosity, however, it more than made up for in comfort and security. Not due to any fancy chaise longue or expensive security systems, but due to a distinct and reassuring lack of other places.

Coraline had taken to using the word a little flippantly to describe locations or even things that defied explanation. She had grown up with the internet and seen it expand and evolve throughout the years, and as such, found communities of those who, like her, had experienced things they labelled impossibilities. Not just that, but actual scientists and biologists and respected people who made it their life’s goal to uncover the mystery of these entities, these cryptids. Mothman, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, the chupacabra and the jackalope, creatures from a realm beyond the one mere mortals inhabited; the other place.

She had even become engrossed in online horror-writing communities like SCP and creepypasta, a fact that confused Wybie due to Coraline’s trauma, but she knew why she loved these stories. She loved them because they were, somehow, comforting to her. She knew they were all fictional – as much as Marble Hornets had given her nightmares – and such a thing made them safe terrors, ones that wrapped her in a warm blanket of deniability, through which she could continue to pretend that everything that had happened to her was just a horrid memory that didn’t need to exist anymore.

But now here she was, at the literal mother of all other places.

Coraline looked down the stairs to Spink and Forcible’s place and felt something cold. Of course, it was freezing outside, but a different kind of cold. Something about the staircase was off. It was deeper, darker, reflective of the far more insidious and aggressive nature of the Pink Palace. Taking a quick look around her, Coraline steeled her nerves and made her way down the stairs, and when she reached the bottom she took a deep breath. She held it for a couple of seconds before exhaling slowly. It calmed her to a degree, but her nerves were still on edge. What was she going to find behind that door? Spink and Forcible couldn’t be dead… right?

Before she had time to ponder the question further, her body had moved independently of her mind, and she had already knocked on the door. She expected, momentarily, to be surprised by a pack of rowdy but well-meaning Scottish terriers, but there was nothing. The only reply to her greeting was silence. As if recreating that moment from thirteen years ago, Coraline pressed her face to the glass of the door, her hands cupping her eyes so she could squint, but all she saw was darkness. Not even a hint of life beyond the window, no sign of dog or human or even furniture. It was just… nothing.

And then a wrinkled, decrepit face abruptly filled the space where nothing once sat. Coraline yelled in shock and fell backwards onto the stairs, sharp pain shooting through her back as she had landed on the edge of one of the steps. She groaned and slowly sat up, as the door began to open, and she was met with a very elderly, very sluggish Ms Spink. Her once vibrant pink hair – like candyfloss – had practically all fallen out save for a few loose strings that fell about her head, thick glasses perched on her nose which made her eyes bulge out cartoonishly. Spink had never needed glasses before – it was always Forcible who was blind as a bat.

Coraline could barely believe her eyes. Of course it made sense, having been six years since last she last saw her, and thirteen years in total since their last proper meeting, but the change was startling. This Spink could barely move, not that the one from before was agile in any way, often chained to her walker, but it was like watching a snail in action. Modern day Spink squinted, having trouble comprehending what she was seeing, before her bug-like eyes widened and she let out a raspy laugh. Coraline laughed too, but nervously and awkwardly, still in a bit of pain from her fall.

“I thought perhaps I was going mad!”

Her voice was the same, just muffled by phlegm and tea leaves. Coraline picked herself up and slowly approached the old woman, afraid to touch her in case she crumbled. Despite her age, Spink eagerly pulled her into a tight embrace, one that made Coraline strain a little to breathe. It reminded her of the way Mrs Lovat gave hugs, rare though they were.

“What a surprise to see you here, Coraline…”

Awkwardly, Coraline reciprocated the hug and gently patted Spink’s back. She was still warm to the touch, thankfully, but she was considerably stiffer than she used to be. For a moment, there was a stillness between the two that neither wanted to break, but after that moment ended, Coraline realised something she hadn’t picked up on. She pulled back slightly and stared at the old woman, who smiled blankly back at her.

“Ms Spink… you always used to call me Caroline.”

Spink’s face twisted in confusion for a second before she began laughing. It was an ancient, dry sound, though some faint memory of the person she was in her younger years poked through.

“How silly of me. You must come inside, it’s freezing out here.”

Before Coraline knew it, Spink was pulling her by the hand into the apartment. Immediately, the smell hit her. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, but it was overpowering – a smell of mildew and unknown spices, perhaps tarragon or paprika, she couldn’t say for sure. The place wasn’t all that different from she last she visited, old matinee posters tacked to the walls, chairs strewn haphazardly about the place as if an AA meeting had happened mere hours before, and of course, the taxidermized dogs.

Spink waddled awkwardly to the kitchen, and Coraline took a seat in the chaise lounge beneath the shelves of stuffed canines. They’d all retained their former forms, stitched-shut eyes and garbed in angelic robes, but they were all covered in fine layers of dust. Spink was far too short to clean up there. Coraline supposed Forcible would be tall enough, but— but that’s when it hit her. Where was Forcible? She felt a lump in her stomach and feared the worst, looking around for any sign of the short-sighted woman, but found none. Her imagination ran wild. If she really was gone, was it just old age that took her? A heart attack, a stroke? Or…

Before she could scare herself any further, Spink emerged from the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea. Coraline sighed in relief – though tried to do so subtly – that the old woman was still capable of taking care of herself somewhat. Spink handed it to Coraline, and she thanked her with a polite nod. She took a sip… and resisted the urge to gag. She took back what she said – there was definitely something wrong with Spink’s faculties. The milk had probably gone bad, or she’d mistaken the tea leaves for cabbage or something. To avoid looking rude, she forced herself to drink at least a third of it.

As soon as Spink had settled in her armchair, she leant forward slightly and gave Coraline a yellow-toothed smile.

“So, what has it been like living in Pontiac again? You and that young man Wyborne must be getting along well.”

Coraline laughed softly.

“It’s just Wybie, Ms Spink. We’re doing fine, mostly. Well, Wybie did have an accident a couple days ago.”

Spink’s eyes widened and she placed a hand to her chest in shock, gasping as she did.

“Oh, good grief! Is he alright? Why aren’t you with him?”

Coraline was momentarily stung by the latter question. It was a fair one to ask – why wasn’t she with him? But the reality was that she could not possibly explain it to Spink in a way that would either make sense or not portray her as a complete lunatic. ‘Well, you see, Ms Spink, I’m not with Wybie right now because I had to come back home and kill the evil witch living in the other version of the Pink Palace before she gets out into the real world and starts eating the souls of every child on Earth!’ She couldn’t embarrass herself like that.

“I had to have closure, Ms Spink… I wanted to stay with Wybie but he insisted I go ahead with my plans. He didn’t want me to worry too much.”

That answer would probably suffice. Spink titled her head in confusion.

“Closure? What do you mean, dear?”

Now came the trickier part. How was she to explain, justify or entirely fabricate this so-called ‘closure’? It was closure, of course, but the horrors of thirteen years prior couldn’t exactly be condensed into something bite-sized. For a moment, Coraline wondered if perhaps the Cat’s presence would make everything alright. Maybe Spink was open-minded or eccentric enough to believe her eyes, and listen to the talking feline and his many stories of the Other World. She imagined he’d be insulted at the idea of being considered a mere convenience.

“Coraline?”

She snapped out of her daze, realising that Spink had called her name. She laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck.

“I… I saw some things when we first moved in here, thirteen years ago. Things I can’t really explain, but they affected me… deeply.”

All that was true, just extremely understated. Spink nodded in understanding as she listened.

“Wybie knows what this means to me. I’ve been to therapy about it, and I’ve tried to forget it over the years. But… but you can’t forget this stuff. It stays with you. It’s like when you lose someone in your life, the grief never goes away. It just gets smaller over time. I guess this was the opposite of that.”

It felt good to vocalise it to another person, especially Spink. As strange as she was, she was still a good listener, and Coraline felt safe in her company. She could see something in the old woman’s eyes that indicated deep empathy, subtle at first but quickly blooming outwards with her guest’s continued confession. Spink leant forward in her armchair and sipped her tea.

“Oh, Coraline… I know exactly what you mean.”

“You do…?”

“Oh, yes. Miriam was never susceptible to these sorts of things – it was one of the many ways we differed. But she understood what it meant to me.”

Spink leant forward again, and Coraline worried she might fall out of her chair.

“I’ve seen things just like that, my dear – ghosts, spirits, maybe even demons. They go by many names across many cultures, you see, but they all ultimately mean the same thing…”

And then she drifted off, her gaze falling into the middle distance. Coraline sat there in silence, waiting expectantly for Spink to finish her sentence. She never did, instead simply staring, glassy-eyed, into space. She cleared her throat and the old woman snapped back to the same spot in the universe. She chuckled at herself and sipped her tea.

“I miss her, Coraline…”

Coraline’s heart sank further.

“I’m so sorry, Ms Spink… how did she pass?”

“In her sleep, thank God. It was the only time she ever went anywhere quietly.”

She laughed, and Coraline couldn’t help but laugh too. The little bit of humour lifted the sorrowful weight slightly.

“And she joined our boys, just over there.”

Spink pointed towards the taxidermized dogs and Coraline gasped, genuinely suspecting for a moment that the crazy old woman had actually had her best friend stuffed and mounted on the wall. She turned, and upon seeing no sign of such a horror, heard Spink break out in hoarse, crackly laughter. She turned again, back to the old woman, who was slapping her knee and wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Coraline let out another awkward, slightly more nervous laugh, and felt relief wash over her that Spink was just as mischievous as she used to be. She was glad she hadn’t lost that quality.

“Oh… oh, I’m so sorry, my dear. I couldn’t resist.”

She paused to catch her breath.

“We had her cremated back in England, and we spread her ashes in Lynmouth. Have you ever been to Lynmouth?”

Coraline shook her head, and Spink returned momentarily to that in-between place.

“It’s a beautiful town. We used to holiday there before we moved to America…”

Before Spink could completely disappear, Coraline spoke up again to alert her, reminding herself of another reason why she wanted to see the old woman. It was a long shot, but she believed it might turn out to be exactly what she needed.

“Ms Spink, would you mind reading my tea leaves?”

At the young woman’s words, Spink’s eyes lit up and she grinned. Before Coraline could react, the old woman was rifling around in a nearby pile, and she soon retrieved that old fortune teller hat that she had donned the first time she read the leaves. Coraline smiled at the action and, doing her best not to retch, drank most of her tea before handing it over to Spink. She held her hands together in her lap and waited, excitedly, for what she might learn. She supposed it would have something to do with the door, or the well, or maybe another dark hand clawing at her soul.

But it was nothing like that.

Spink gently shook the cup, looked inside, and let out a piercing scream. Coraline jumped back at the sound, watching as the old woman, eyes wide with horror, began to hyperventilate and clutch her chest. She made a terrible choking sound before falling to the floor, thrashing uncontrollably as the veins in her neck bulged like wriggling worms. Coraline rushed to her side and panickily tried to resuscitate her, the old woman’s mouth beginning to fill with froth. All she could do was clumsily pull out her phone and dial 911.

She could barely hear the voice on the other end. All her focus was on Spink as she lay there on the floor, her twitching slowly subsiding, the life in her eyes beginning to fade. Tears streamed down Coraline’s face as she gently shook the old woman, desperately pleading with her to hold out a little longer, just for a few more minutes. It was too late, though. Not a moment later, her thrashing subsided and she lied still on the floor, her terrified eyes locked on the ceiling, the cup smashed by her hand, whatever its leaves held having been destroyed. Coraline would come to know that this was merciful.

Her entire body shaking, she slowly sat back and stared down at Spink, whose hand had gone limp in Coraline’s grip. It was hard to think, hard to process what had just happened, but there was no denying it: she was dead. The young woman buried her face in her hands and began to sob, a mixture of sadness, anger and dread spreading throughout her. Spink had died. Spink was gone. Spink…

…had been murdered.

#horror #creative writing #coraline #fanfic #supernatural

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samethyst01 · 3 months

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A Mother's Love: Chapter Five

“Mom, why can’t I go explore right away?”

“Coraline, we need time to get settled. It’s a new start for us, and it’s going to be a little tough to acclimatise.”

“Why don’t you come help me set up my work things in the study?”

“Okay…”

Like a jolt of electricity, the memories from thirteen years ago flooded into Coraline the moment she touched the wall. Every step taken was another look into the past, every surface a sudden burst of emotions and nostalgia. There was that carpet that refused to stay flat, the leaky boiler room with mysteriously labelled switches, the damp on the walls, the mould in the corner of the ceiling. Around the corner was her father’s office, still dreary and drab, though with a considerable upgrade to both its hardware and its software.

The kitchen was the same too, and she could smell the distinct aroma of cooked meat from the oven. Lunch was on the way. Upstairs, the bathroom was far cleaner than the insect-swarmed days of old, new tiles added to the walls and an updated shower curtain with pink and yellow floral patterns. Coraline turned the tap and out poured crystal clear water. Her parents’ bedroom was quite similar to how it used to be, plain duvet covers and plain curtains and the same framed pictures of the three of them together on vacation. It was a comforting familiarity.

Coraline’s father had helped bring her luggage up into her room, and the two had shared an awkward hug before he excused himself downstairs, giving her some time to adjust. The place hadn’t changed much since she left, all her toys and stuffed animals still hibernating in the large trunk, the picture of her and her school friends back in Pontiac still resting face-up on her bedside table. There were a couple posters she had added in the preceding years after moving in, mostly Adventure Time and Avatar: The Last Airbender. She ran a finger across them and felt like a kid again.

After unpacking, she collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the cracked ceiling. She was surprised not to feel so afraid of her home, the core of her trauma, but her motivation to kill that which haunted her overshadowed her fear of it. At least, it did for the moment. She turned onto her side and for a brief moment, so brief she must’ve imagined it, she swore she could’ve seen that damn little doll again. Her eyes refocused and that horrible flash of yellow and blue was gone.

She growled softly to herself, frustrated with these apparent visions. She needed to be absolutely centred for her plan to work, a plan that had barely even come to fruition in her mind. Getting to Ashland was the first hurdle, and she had managed that. And then… she shuddered at what she had to do next. Next, she had to open that door. The door in the living room, once hidden before being unlocked by her younger, more naïve self. She had no key, having tossed it down the well, so she would have to improvise.

After that… what then? If she could somehow reopen the portal, would that give the Beldam exactly what she wanted? Would it give her a way to escape the Other World, or perhaps just a path straight to Coraline, the unfinished meal she had let slip from her grasp thirteen years ago? Regardless, opening that door would also reopen all the horrors Coraline had tried to bury, and once and for all, she would have to end the Beldam’s story. She had never killed before, not that the witch was any more human than an insect, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

The Beldam might not have been at her strongest, but that guaranteed nothing. Even in her weakened, arachnid form, she was still otherworldly, horrific, and entirely twisted by the fabric of the Other World. Whatever monster she was, wherever she came from, and whomever she had been before it all, it was imperative she died before Coraline left Ashland, and stayed dead. She would have to make sure of it, burn the body if she had to, douse it in holy water, gather every priest in the country to exorcise it of evil and confirm, absolutely, that the Beldam was nothing more than a husk.

After staring at the ceiling for what felt like an hour, Coraline sat up and changed into some more comfortable clothes. They were more suited to her younger self, fit for treacherous gardening and exploration into the unknown. She headed for the door and looked back at all her things, many of them still inside the big chest in the corner. She raised her finger.

“If I see any of you turn into buttons… there’s going to be trouble.”

******

A friend at college had once told Coraline that chicken was as bad for her as red meat, because of the conditions most chickens are subjected to in battery farms. She argued that the trauma they suffered directly linked to their quality after death, which was pretty odd, since battery farmed chicken was likely to be processed anyway. Coraline always found that girl so strange, even considering all the bizarre events of her own life, and she would always remember her, even after graduating.

The thought popped into her head when her mother laid out the meal before her, roast chicken and potatoes, with vegetables straight from the garden and homemade gravy. It looked positively divine, and was a far cry from the less than appetising meals she received back in the day.

“She wouldn’t let me make something.”

Her father chuckled as he adjusted his glasses and sat down. Coraline smiled, and studied the man for a moment. There was something about him that seemed slightly off. He hadn’t aged a day, his complexion still the same pasty grey, his glasses a little lopsided, his hair messy, still wearing one of his Michigan jerseys. It had been six years and he hadn’t grown any older. He looked far more tired, for sure, but that meant relatively little when compared to his physical appearance. It was like time had stopped around the Pink Palace.

“I wanted to treat Coraline, not torture her!”

Her mother sat down opposite them. She, too, appeared to have stayed the same. Obviously she wasn’t wearing her neck brace anymore – that came off when her injury had healed – but she was still wearing the same knitted sweater, with bags under her eyes and slightly greasy hair. Their perfect agelessness was unsettling, in a way, as if the house and maybe all of Ashland was in stasis. Coraline was the only one who had changed. Was it because she was the only one who left?

“This is perfect, you guys… thank you.”

“It’s been so long since we last saw you. You didn’t even call.”

Her father poured himself a glass of water, and a twinge of guilt spread through her body. She hadn’t called. Why hadn’t she called? Six years had gone by and not even once had she made the effort. Why? She must’ve tried, at least once, surely… so why couldn’t she remember? Her mother didn’t say anything, just picked up her cutlery and began to eat. Coraline sighed exasperatedly.

“It’s complicated, dad.”

“Complicated how? I mean, come on, I can understand a call once every couple weeks, a month at most, but six years? The only reason we knew you were still alive was because Wybie at least had the decency to talk to us!”

There was a tense silence around the table for a few moments. Coraline’s mother, usually the more outspoken of her parents, was silently staring at her plate as she ate from it. Her father’s face was twisted in confusion and dismay, as if the answers he so desperately needed were just always out of reach. Coraline mustered up her courage before facing the truth.

“I’m sorry… I really should’ve called, but… but I couldn’t face it. Not after everything that happened.”

At her words, her father’s confusion only worsened, and he looked to his wife for answers. She just gave him a sideways glance and shrugged. He turned back to Coraline and stared at her expectantly.

“What are you talking about?”

Coraline sighed heavily and began eating at a rapid pace, muttering between mouthfuls.

“You wouldn’t understand…”

Her father made a noise of frustration before looking down at his food in defeat.

“No… I guess I wouldn’t.”

Her mother looked to be on the verge of tears. Coraline felt terribly guilty, but she couldn’t bring herself to spill everything that had happened thirteen years ago, especially now that she couldn’t even trust her own memories. She had been certain that she called. But it seemed she was as neglectful as her parents had been all those years ago, which, in a way, led to the events that sparked everything. The guilt didn’t go away, but it was muffled as Coraline thought of something that might spark some memories in her parents.

“Do you remember the little door in the living room?”

Her mother raised her eyebrows.

“The one you were obsessed with? What about it?”

“First of all, I wasn’t obsessed with it. Second of all, I just wondered if it was still there.”

By this time everyone had finished eating, so Coraline’s father stood up and began tidying their plates away, putting them on the tabletop to be cleaned momentarily.

“Well, of course it’s still there. I was thinking about knocking down the bricks at one point but the key disappeared ages ago.”

Coraline tensed slightly. If her mother or father had torn open that door, God only knows what might’ve come of it. She had never tried to knock those bricks down, and if she had, what exactly would she find? An empty space? Another portal? It likely didn’t matter, as the door was closed and locked and there was no way to enter through it. The well was the only accessible portal, and to get down there would take some considerable effort. She hadn’t exactly planned for that eventuality, but she’d figure it out somehow.

“I never got to see it, this mystery brick wall.”

Her father commented as he opened the fridge and brought out a cheesecake. Her mother leaned in slightly and lowered her voice, which was rather unlike her. Her hand gently gripped Coraline’s, who looked back at her mother with a perplexed expression.

“Did something happen with that door? Is that what you meant?”

There was something about the way her mother said that that unsettled Coraline. Did she know something? And the look in her eyes was feverish, filled with fresh terror, but it lasted only a second. After that second, it was gone, and her mother was just back to being a worried parent. Coraline shook her head.

“It’s nothing, mom. I was just curious.”

Her mother nodded amicably and her father sat back down, cutting each of them a slice of cheesecake. Coraline glanced out the window and for a second so brief that it might as well have been quicker than a blink, she saw a figure in the distant mist.

She wondered if exploring outside was the best idea after all.

*******

In the absence of rain, Coraline felt comfortable venturing outside. The mists had barely parted, but

There was a convenient path laid out for her along the edge of the garden. The air was cold, so she

had wrapped a coat around herself for warmth. It wasn’t her old yellow coat, the one that had grown

far too large for her, but she imagined herself wearing it. The thought gave her a bit of comfort. She

wasn’t wearing her swampers either, her whole aesthetic having shifted ever since she left Ashland.

Wybie always said he missed it, but Coraline explained to him that it was just a little too strange for

her. Besides, it’s not like she had ran out of colour, she had just taken a more subtle approach.

As the path curled, Coraline could make out the edges of the garden, dead plants scattered about the plot in droves and the cobbled ground cracked in several places. This place had always been a bit of a mystery to her. In the Other World, the witch had moulded it to look like her “daughter’s” face, that sickening display just another of her ploys to get Coraline to love her, and fall in love with the world she made. In the real world, though, it still retained her shape, and the resemblance it bore most, oddly enough, was her real mother. She had considered this for a time, as she had so many details about her past, and eventually came to the conclusion that it must have been constructed to resemble the original owner.

Coraline had done some research on the Pink Palace since her departure from it. Apparently, it had been built as Ashland was being settled in 1852, and it was built for the town’s founder, an unnamed woman who was thought to be a seamstress. Very little was known about this woman, and the only details the records showed was that she lived alone, and had no children. Coraline had done a lot of thinking to go alongside her research, and as much as she theorised about how this woman could have some connection to the Beldam, or might possibly have been her before she found or made the Other World, it ultimately didn’t matter.

Whatever humanity that thing might’ve had at one point in time, over a hundred and fifty years ago, it was anything but human now. There was no way to appeal to its better nature, its mercy, for a predator has naught but hunger, and its prey cannot bargain with it. The only escape is death, the death of the victim or the monster. Coraline wasn’t planning on dying, but she knew she’d have to adapt her strategy if she wanted to kill the Beldam. If starvation wasn’t enough, she’d behead her, dismember her, burn her alive, whatever it took to be sure she was permanently gone.

As she circled around the house, Coraline suddenly felt droplets of rain hitting her face. She looked up just in time to see the downpour begin, torrential and mighty, and with a quick step she sheltered herself under the house’s porch. That put a damper on her plans to explore, and she could already see mud beginning to form on the ground. She sighed heavily and stomped back inside, shaking off the rainwater and running her hands through her hair. Instead of going out, she would probably just have to sit in her room and strategize.

Things were still awkward with her parents from lunch, and Coraline couldn’t help but have this distinctive, almost acidic feeling that something was not quite right with them. Or, perhaps, it was with her. The guilt of not having called for so long was eating at her, and she couldn’t fathom how she’d been so callous. If there was a call, nobody could remember it. Biting her inner cheek, she headed upstairs and flopped onto her bed, after tugging off her boots and throwing them to the side. She was getting back into her old habits.

She spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about what to do when she crossed the tunnel, and before she knew it, it was already time for bed. She undressed and put on her pyjamas, before brushing her teeth and checking on her parents. Their bedroom door was closed. She sighed in disappointment and returned to her room, tucking herself in. What a strange feeling it was to miss them when they were only a room away. They must’ve felt just as awkward as she had. All she wanted, though, was to diffuse that tension with a hug and tell them how sorry she was.

Without the Cat to keep her company, Coraline simply clicked off her light, rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. Sleep would bring respite, or at the very least, it would prove to be a convenient transition from that day to the next. She found herself pondering on how strange sleep was, like a form of time travel filled with hallucinations, and that pondering sufficiently knocked her out. She entered into a deep, dreamless slumber, floating in a placid ocean of void, endless and stretching out in every direction until the end of time and space itself.

******

Coraline awoke in the wee hours of the morning, which was not really morning at all, still dominated by the dark and the night. What woke her was a subtle scratching sound at the window, and she thought for a moment that the Cat had finally arrived to talk with her about her plans. But when she tried to sit up, or roll over, or even move her hand, she found herself quite incapable. Her eyes widened and she tried again to move, only to find herself completely frozen, her eyes the single functioning body part. Was this… sleep paralysis?

She’d heard about the condition before, and was sure she’d never suffered from it, and never could, yet here she was. Her eyes darted over to the window to try and make out the source of the ever-loudening scratching, only to find no Cat outside her window. Instead, a long, needle-like object was carving something into the glass, slowly and inexorably, one letter at a time. Coraline’s breathing intensified as she could make out a word in the window, sliced delicately into it by that old horror she was sure she had destroyed and drowned at the bottom of the well.

Screaming wouldn’t help, and she couldn’t even open her mouth, a dull whimpering noise echoing behind her paralysed lips. Nothing worked, she couldn’t even shut her eyes to stop the nightmare from invading her. When the monster hand’s work was finished, a shadow slipped across the wall and Coraline felt cold, sharp points drag across her scalp, a quiet snickering filling the silence left behind by the scratching’s departure. It was all she could do not to die of fright on the spot, her eyes slowly focusing on the window and realising that the word carved into it was ‘darling’.

She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t cry out. She couldn’t fight off the evil. All she could do was lie still, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as a shape began to loom over her. She knew what it was. Its long body stretched down, past the foot of the bed, its carapace twitching in staccato and its arachnid limbs pinning her in place. She couldn’t see its face yet, still shrouded in darkness, but she felt a metallic hand brush against her cheek and tuck strands of hair behind her ear. It raised up and gently poked her on the nose, and in the shadows she could make out a luminous, jagged smile filled with nothing but hungry malice.

There was a moment of quiet terror, where all was still, and Coraline prayed that her torture would end. That moment seemed to stretch into eternity. Then, at the height of agony, the shape leaned down towards her and the Beldam’s cracked porcelain face came into view, her button eyes sewn back into place and gleaming in the low light. That horrific grin began to part, and Coraline felt something like breath against her nose, the stench of sawdust and mould overcoming everything. And then the Beldam spoke.

“See you soon.”

Coraline lurched upwards with a scream, control over her body returning to her. She clutched at her chest, hyperventilating as her eyes darted around the room. The witch was gone, and so was the paralysis. She looked over at the window, only to see it completely unblemished, not a single horrid letter carved into its surface. Steadily, she slowed her breathing, taking as long as she needed to calm down. She wasn’t calm, and wouldn’t be for a long time, but she was steadfast. Her parents hadn’t heard her screams, and if they had, they were choosing not to run to her.

A subtle meow drew her attention back to the window, and outside it, she saw a familiar black shape. She sighed in relief and got out of bed, heading to the window and opening it up. The Cat was perched on the windowsill, and he stared at her blankly as she picked him up and carried him inside.

“Just a nightmare…”

Coraline sat on the bed and buried her face in her hands. She was still shaken, despite the horrors having ended.

“No. It was her.”

The Cat’s voice caused her to look up and over at him. He licked one of his paws pensively, and she was forced to admit in that moment that he was right. There were no coincidences with that creature.

“Just because she can show you things doesn’t mean she’s as she appears.”

“Are you saying she can’t hurt me here, in the real world?”

The Cat nodded his head.

“It’s all part of her game. She still thinks she can scare you off. She’s more afraid of you than you are of her.”

With a quiet scoff, Coraline sat up and put on her slippers, grabbing her phone as she did. The Cat raised his proverbial eyebrow and jumped after her.

“You ever heard of being safe, rather than sorry?”

She turned on her phone’s flashlight and headed downstairs as quietly as she could. She headed for the kitchen, and in the kitchen was a locked cupboard. She searched through the key draw and took out a small silver one, using it on the cupboard door. Inside were some housework tools, chief among them being a crowbar. She remembered her father putting these tools in this cupboard, and very pointedly telling her not to open it unless he asked her to. She was a little offended that he thought she was still too young for that kind of thing, but in the present she thanked her past father for keeping such things so safe.

Grabbing the crowbar, she marched with purpose to the living room. The Cat watched from a distance, his eyes narrowed in intrigue, though still wary. What was she planning? Placing her phone on the floor, its torch facing up, Coraline dropped down to her knees and placed the crowbar’s hook between the little door and the wall. She fixed it securely in the gap between them, before wrenching with all her might. The door strained and creaked, and the Cat’s hackles raised slightly in anticipation. Coraline wrenched harder, grunting as she put everything she had into it. The door made a pained splintering sound, cracking at the edges, before it suddenly swung open.

Coraline made a sort of pitiful scoffing noise and sighed shakily at the sight. Just a bunch of bricks. The Cat slinked up beside her and pressed his body against her frame to comfort her. She stroked his head and thought about what to do next. Knock down the bricks? She’d probably just find an empty apartment beyond it, as was expected, but that just made her angrier. It couldn’t end like this, so soon, without closure. No, there would be a finale, there would be a final confrontation with the Beldam, and she would win, and she would answer all the questions that had burned since the day she discovered this door.

With a quiet huff, she stood up and stormed out of the room, the Cat following dutifully behind her. As she took her eyes off it, the door began to close, and a light glowed behind it. Quiet scratching echoed through the house, and to accompany it, the pitter-patter of tiny feet and the clashing of brass.

#horror #creative writing #coraline #fanfic #supernatural

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