Monday, October 26, 2015

"The Babysitter," the first in a Series by Paul McCarthy & Scott C. Forrest-Allen

(READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.)




“The Babysitter”
by
Scott C. Forrest-Allen & Paul McCarthy


            I had always thought I knew what the meaning of “pitch-black” darkness was,

Amy thought to herself. That was until tonight. That was until just now. My digital watch

tells me it’s just after midnight. 
            I can’t see a damn thing.
 A moment ago, I tripped over something that felt like. . . if I had to describe what that “something” felt like, I’d probably have to compare it to what it is like to stumble over a small rock wrapped in a sponge. It is a more bothersome pain than an agonizing pain. If it weren’t for the annoying sensation currently in my ankle, I wouldn’t be able to tell if I were asleep or not.
It is too dark.
I’m not afraid of the dark, but I’m the type of clumsy girl that if there is something in my way, I will find a way to trip over it. If something is NOT in my way, I will find a way to trip over it.
As Amy began to massage her ankle, she tried to take in her surroundings, but she couldn’t because all she could see was black.
Black.
It was as if she were in a large container of black dust, and she was becoming a part of it. She tried her best to remain calm so that her eyes could adjust, but this was taking longer than usual. She felt as if she were inhaling black dust and that the dust was inhaling her.
Of all the rotten luck, she continued to herself, a simple babysitting job. Mum said “Don’t worry: I started babysitting when I was your age.” Then the ageless mother line: “You’ll do fine!” She grimaced to herself. Of course, things were a lot different when Mum was my age, when dinosaurs roamed.
Leave it to me to pick the one night this week when the power goes out. It was so beautiful all this week, and today we get a heat wave. Everyone was using their air conditioners and their fans, so the power went out.
When are my eyes going to adjust?
Well, I’m in the cellar now, and there is no light, and the wind blew the door shut, and I can’t see a thing.
Still no flashlight. Not that I would know where it is. The brats’ parents told me to look in the basement for the flashlight if there was a problem…who keeps a flashlight in their basement?
On all fours Amy began to make her way across the cold, damp basement floor. She realized the next best thing to do was to try to find her way back to the stairs and finish putting Bobby and Baby Carl to bed.
“They’re nice people,” Mum told me. “How do you know?” I asked her. “We just moved here two weeks ago!” Why did I have to take this babysitting job? Why did the lights go out? Why do I have to be clumsy? Why can’t my eyes adjust?
THUD.
Amy felt around and figured that she must have found the first step.
Joy! Finally! I can get out of here, put the brats to bed, and watch my movie!
Amy began her climb up the basement stairs. At one point, she tried to stand, felt for a banister to her right, but her arm felt nothing. No banister on these steps. Is that even legal? She felt around to her right and felt cold, hard stone mixed with something that must have been cement. She concluded this must be the wall and stayed close to it.
She quickly recalled that there must have been around eight – ten steps to the basement. This shouldn’t take too long. She felt around for the next step and with both hands and knees pressed herself up and continued in this fashion until she counted the ninth step. She breathed a sigh of relief.
I’d better stay on all fours to keep my balance. Here. This must be the tenth step. Oh, boy! The door must be…wait, another step, ok, I must’ve counted wrong; I’ll just keep climbing these stairs until I get to the door. 11. 12. How many steps are there? I could’ve have…13, 14…sworn there were only about 10.
15. 16.
Amy tried to feel around for the bottom of a door, but each time she did, she came upon another step.
17. 18. 19. 20.
Oh, this is crazy! How many…
STEP. 
What was that? Amy thought to herself. Unless her mind was playing tricks on her, which was likely as she over-analyzed everything, it sounded like a foot on the bottom step.
My mind. My mind…21, 22…playing tricks on me…23…there’s nothing…
STEP.
There it was again. By Amy’s guess they were on the second step.
“Bobby?” She quivered out loud. “Is that you?”
Silence.
A long period of silence.
“Bobby, if that’s you, say something.”
Silence.
Another long period of silence.
“Bobby, if this is your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing! This isn’t—“
STEP-STEP-STEP.
She now heard the footsteps in rapid succession.
These did not sound like the footsteps of a small child, even one playing a practical joke. A sick and cruel practical joke.
STEP.
Amy’s insides turned cold. She heard and felt herself breathing more heavily than before. The harder she tried to calm down, the more rapid her breathing became.
She needed to get out of that basement and upstairs RIGHT NOW!
STEP.
Oh, no! Where…24, 25.. where is that damn door?
STEP-STEP-STEP. 
On all fours Amy continued her climb…
STEP.
…until finally…she felt the bottom of the door. Amy quickly released a sigh of relief.
STEP.
With trembling hands, she felt her way…
STEP-STEP-STEP.
…up the door until she found the knob.
Locked.
As Amy’s breath quickened…
STEP.
…she began to hear…
STEP.
…something else.
STEP-STEP-STEP.
The footsteps were getting closer. She could feel them getting closer. She could feel each step echo in the pit of her stomach.
That was when she heard the scratching coming from the other side of the door.
STEP.
It’s the kids.
“Don’t worry, Bobby and Carl! I’m coming”
STEP.
Oh, my God, please! Why won’t this door open??
STEP-STEP-STEP.
Amy could feel someone breathing behind her, and made the entire of her back shrivel and cringe. She heard the Snickering behind her. Her skin shriveled and cringed.
That was when she heard banging – loud, repetitive banging – from the other side of the door. Amy shot back in response. She heard the Snickering again. She tried again to get the door open, but it wouldn’t budge.
Don’t worry, Amy,” the Voice whispered slowly behind her, “the boys are alright.”
At the sound of the Voice, Amy lost her balance, let go of the door know and fell off the stairs to her right.
Screaming as she fell, she thought this would be the last thing she’d ever be doing.
That was when she landed on a hard, metallic surface. She felt as if all of her tensed muscles would break. Her momentum allowed her fall hard – back down on the cold, damp basement floor.
Trembling and quivering, Amy tried to assess her damages. She must have broken something, but she had no time or means to tend to her wounds. She felt dizzy and disoriented from her fall. As she tried to collect herself, her mind began again.
Where am I now? I need to get back to the stairs. Who was that behind me? How did he know my name? How am I sure it is a “he?”
Some part of Amy realized that the Voice sounded either like a man sounding like a woman, or a woman sounding like a man. Either way, she hated it. She hated it so much. If this were a practical joke, she’d never forgive those brats.
I’ll never forgive those bastards. I wish I were back in Algebra right now.  I wish I were at the movies seeing something funny. Something to make me laugh. Don’t cry, Amy. You’re being childish. You’re being a silly, little girl. But I want to cry. I want to cry so badly. So damn badly. I want out of the basement. I want out NOW! I want to be upstairs with the boys asleep, and I want to be watching my movie. I want to call my friends. I want to be with them right now. I want to call my Mum and tell her how much I hate her for forcing me to do this. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault that I’m here. I want out. I want out RIGHT …
Through her tears, Amy could make out the Figure of a large person appear in the darkness. Amy inhaled a quick gasp.
I can’t speak. I can’t ask this…thing who they are and what they want? And what did I fall on? I hurt. I’m in pain. I think I cut myself.
The Figure just stood there, motionless, appearing to be staring in Amy’s direction. Amy realized that she probably would have been less scared had the Figure ran into the basement. Instead, it just moved into the space in front of her. And stared. It stared long and hard at Amy.
It was at this point when some light began to make its presence in the basement, largely due to the two small windows straight ahead near the ceiling. It was so dark outside. Had the windows been open, Amy might have heard the night sounds. Can she climb to the windows to escape? Can she get there with this Figure in the way?
With the small amount of light entering the basement, Amy could make out The Face. Sneering and snarling at her. Eyes piercing into her very soul. Amy released another gasp.
“Why are you so afraid, Amy?” the Figure demanded slowly and with a hushed sound. “You’ve hurt my feelings!” The Figure spoke in a slow, sinister, singsong manner. Amy hated it. She hated it so much. She tried to scream, but couldn’t.
Silence.
Another long period of silence.
As Amy was mustering up enough courage to ask the Figure something, it asked her, “Are you ready?”
The Figure then walked quickly past Amy, and Amy felt a small gust of wind as it did. If it weren’t for that, she probably would not have felt any air at all in that basement.
Amy heard a door open behind her.
Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Someone else is coming in!
“Just remember, Amy,” the Figure whispered in her direction, “this is OUR sport!”
SLAM!
She felt the door behind her slam shut.
She was left in empty darkness again.
Who else is here? Where did It go? Ready for what? What sport are you talking about?
As Amy began her crawl along the floor, she found it more and more difficult to remain calm. She began to have images in head about the boys.
She saw Bobby and Carl sleeping soundly in their room. Bobby in his bed, and Carl right next to him in his cradle.
Yes, yes, peaceful thoughts. Think happy thoughts. The boys are alright, and I am on my way back up there, and this whole thing will be over.
Amy’s vision added the Figure entering the room.
No! No, Amy! Stop! It is not in the room! The boys are safe!
Amy “saw” the Figure produce a chainsaw.
Amy, stop! Stop it RIGHT NOW!
She heard the chainsaw rip into action. She felt the rumbling of the chainsaw in the very pit of her stomach.
AMY, FOR GOD’S SAKE STOP!!
Amy saw the Figure raise the chainsaw and descend it upon the boys.
“STOOOOOP!” Amy screamed out loud.
Someone must have heard me. Someone has to be on their way. Bobby! Carl! Can you hear me?
“BOBBY! CARL!”
Nothing. Silence. She waited and hoped that one of the neighbors had heard her scream. They are on their way right now.
Amy “saw” the boys again.
Amy, please stop it! Please, oh, please don’t do this to yourself! The boys are alright! The boys are…
            In her mind she “saw” the boys sleeping soundly.
            She “saw” the Figure produce an axe.
            Amy! There’s no one up there! No one is harming the boys.
            A large axe.
            AMY, STOP IT!
            She “saw” the Figure raise the axe above its head. It swiftly lowered the axe toward the boys.
            “AMY! STOP! THE BOYS ARE ALRIGHT! THE BOYS ARE…”
            She “saw” the boys yet again.
            Oh, no!
            The worst thing, Amy realized to herself, if it weren’t for these visions, I wouldn’t be able to see anything at all!
            This time she could not see the Figure. All she could focus on were the boys’ faces looking at something. Their happy, smiling faces turned quickly into something else. They could see something that was frightening them. She saw it in their faces. She saw it in their eyes. They were trembling. They were both beginning to cry. They were both…
            THUD.
            Amy felt the bottom of the steps again and tried to sigh in relief, but she felt no relief. She wanted out. She needed to get out. She hadn’t even realized she was crawling along the floor all this tiem. She wanted to get to the boys. She needed to get to the boys.
            She thought she heard the sound of Bobby screeching from somewhere above her. Amy shuddered and tried desperately to hold back her tears. This was no ordinary scream. This was long. This was painful. This was the sound of something else. Something was happening to the boys.
            On all fours she began her ascend of the stairs as quickly as she could. She still could not recall that there were so many steps, but there was no time to count. There was no time to worry about that. She just needed to try the door again.
            To her shock, the door was slightly ajar.
            Now I think I can breathe a sigh of relief.
            Still battered and bruised, she pushed the door open and began her quest to the boys’ room.
            All of the lights in the house were still out, and all of the lights in the neighborhood were still out.   
            As she made her way through the house, she caught a glimpse of the front door.
            It was slightly ajar as well.
            Someone else broke into the house. Someone else made it into this house.
            Someone else is still in this house RIGHT NOW!
            No time to think about that. I have to find the boys.
            I hate my Mum. I can’t wait to see her again so I can tell her how much I hate her for getting me into this.
            Stop thinking about your mother right now. You will deal with her later. I need to find the boys!!
            Amy made it up the stairs and to the boys’ room.
            They were not there.
            There’s no time to search the house. They’re gone. I know it. It’s my fault. I’m a bad babysitter. I’m a bad person.
            Amy raced into the living room and picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
            Answer! Please answer! What is taking you so…
            “Oh, help me! Please help, me!” Amy panicked into the receiver. As she was trying to explain her situation, she was interrupted.
            “I know where you are, you silly, little girl,” was the response on the other end of the phone.
            She knew that voice.
            It was the Voice.
            Amy tried to breathe but this time could not.  
            “You silly, little girl. The boys are downstairs. They’ve been downstairs in the basement all along!”
            OH MY GOD!! WHAT IS GOING ON??
            Before she hung up the phone, the Voice asked, “Are you ready?”
            Amy slammed down the phone and made it back to the basement stairs and back to the basement floor. She started yelling out,”BOBBY! CARL! WHERE ARE YOU? IT’S AMY! I’LL SAVE YOU! I’LL…”
            She felt the Hands on both of her shoulders. She had nothing left in her at this point. The Hands were surprisingly gentle on her shoulders, which upset her even more than had she been handled abruptly. The Hands were guiding her carefully backwards. Amy stumbled along, feeling too weak to fight back, until she felt her back against the wall.
            The Hands released.
            “Yes,” the Voice whispered, “she’s ready.”
            Ready?! Ready for what?! Please, oh, please let the lights come on! This was all one big practical joke. A sick and cruel practical joke.
            She found it impossible to breathe.
            The next thing Amy felt was a cold, sharp blade against her neck.
           

* * * * *

            Amy awoke suddeenly just as Bobby and Carl’s parents came home that hot summer night.
            It was a dream!! It was just some horrible nightmare!!
            The lights in the neighborhood were back on.  
            The boys were sleeping soundly in their beds.
 



Copyright 2006 Paul McCarthy & Scott C. Forrest-Allen



           



           



            

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