“Anyone in there?” a strangely accented male voice called. “Come now. Let me in.” The words slurred together with an icy chill.
Marie started to tremble. Her right foot tapped so hard the noise echoed through the room.
Sam put her finger to her lips, appealing for silence.
Marie tried to do as she was asked, but when the voice demanded again, “Let me in.” She turned and ran to the bedroom. The door wouldn’t open. The knob had frozen into a solid block of metal.
A whirr and hiss from the outside door made things worse. Marie started to run to the kitchen, but everything seemed to be in her way. She bumped against the dining room table. The lamp that sat in the middle fell over. It hit the plate glass window with a resounding crash. A gust of wind whipped through the room with such force that it knocked more things over. Before Marie could turn back a shudder hit the house. The container containing Bill’s ashes fell to the floor. It broke open.
The knocking on the outside door grew louder. Marie was afraid that any moment it too would shatter, just as the window and urn had.
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Sam grabbed Marie’s elbow. “Is there another entrance?”
“No.” Before Marie could make any suggestions, Sam pulled her toward the shattered glass.
“Then this is our only choice.” Sam used the curtain to brush away the larger shards. “I’ll go first.” She leaned out. “Not too far,” she said, and stepped over the ledge.
Fingers of fog rolled into the room from under the door behind Marie. The pounding ceased. If she had any intention of staying behind, or trying to gain access to the bedroom, a clammy swirl of mist around her ankles canceled the thought. She practically leapt through the opening. Outside, the rosebush she and Bill had planted on their first anniversary proved a hazardous barrier. Thorns bit into her flesh.
“Where are you?” The voice grew more menacing. “Come here. I won’t hurt you.” The words broke apart into a dry cackle.
Before Marie could scream, Sam’s hand clamped hard against her mouth. Sam drew her behind the prickly rosebush. “Shhhh,” Sam whispered.
In the opening above, the mist formed into the dark sinister figure of something otherworldly. “Marie? Where are you?” This time Bill’s voice called out. “Come on sweetie. It’s almost time for the game to start.”
Marie pulled at Sam’s hand, but it remained firmly in place.
“It’s your turn to choose.” The mist took on shape. First only an outline, then it filled out into her husband’s form. Soft blue eyes searched for her.
“It’s not him,” Sam warned. “You know it can’t be true.”
But Marie wanted it to be true. She wanted to feel Bill’s strong arms around her once more. Knowing Sam would move her hand away with her acquiescence, Marie nodded surrender.
“Come on sweetie, we can play the game together this time.” Bill’s voice had turned sacchariney. “You can be the cat.”
The pressure of Sam’s hand eased and fell away from Marie’s mouth. Instead of calling out as she had intended, Marie sat there. Sadness engulfed her. There were no cats. She’d buried the last one under this very rosebush.
A soft meow wafted from above.