Cross Stitch: Part One (rough draft)

Trauma can cause many changes to a person, and most of them can be explained by psychology, even healed with therapy. After my father passed away though, the change that occurred inside me was not one that could be explained. It wasn’t something anyone took seriously, so I learned to ignore it, and I locked it away.

I didn’t fully understand this until I met my husband. He was performing a study and needed people who had suffered some sort of trauma in their lives, whether it was an accident, injury, upheaval, just something that would have caused the individual a level of suffering. He believed that this agony could open a third eye for people and allow them to better connect with powers relating to the supernatural. I had nothing better to do, so I decided to see what this strange man was talking about.

I was reticent to admit at the time that I had been plagued by visions. I had been seeing strange things in the corner of my eye, choosing to pretend there was nothing there, when in reality, there was always something twitching at the periphery. 

My husband, who at the time was Dr. Ivan Young, was a man of science as well as a firm believer in the supernatural. He talked about demons, ghosts, past lives, even powers that humans could possess that allowed them to touch these creatures. He was handsome, charismatic, and excited to begin this study with the few people who showed up.

Through him, I realized that these things twitching at the corner of my eye wanted to be looked at. I could see those who existed on the other side of us, the things that had not yet fully moved on, or were trapped here between the veil and us.

“Some people can’t see through this veil, but you can,” Ivan whispered to me. “Your eyes have been opened, and you truly see the world. You see everything.”

I fell for him so easily that I often chastise myself today for being so easy to catch. We married, but even before then, Ivan had taught me to utilize my sight. I didn’t just see through the veil anymore, I could move through it if I focused hard enough. It was a skill Ivan and I continued to work and strengthen everyday. Or we did, until recently when we discovered I was pregnant. Ivan decided, for the safety of the baby, it would be best to rest, to study, and to let the veil remain closed for a while.

We had been working together for a while, combining our skills to help those who had been afflicted by the other side. We had been able to rescue the lives of some, or simply stop things before they could reach them. But for now, to make sure the baby would be safe, we had decided to stop taking such jobs.

That was, until one day, I received a letter from a young woman named Marni. She had come to inherit a rather large estate, one which she hadn’t been aware of before. The news of the house was a shock to her, but what she experienced within its walls was much worse. She sent pictures with her letter, as well as the ripped pages of an old diary.

“I had read about you some time ago,” she scribed in her letter. “I had never wanted to believe such things. In fact, I was taught, if anything, the only ‘souls’ that could haunt a person were the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. But this house has something that is not from God trapped inside. I had hoped that this place could be used by the church in some way. It is far beyond my means, and would serve better as a home for the needy. But I would sooner burn it to hell than let anyone else inside. I’m afraid that by even opening the doors, I have unleashed something into the world.

“I have done my research on the place, and while the house has remained abandoned for some years, it has become a place for the local college students to gather. Apparently, some have even gone missing during nights here. It’s become a place where people are dared to enter for entertainment, but I doubt there is anything charming here. I do not believe that anything I have come across is the work of students either. I have witnessed such things for myself many times, and nothing about this speaks of childish antics.

“Something else I discovered in my research was that, the previous owner of the house, an Erique Atherton, back in his time, was known as something of a ladies man. While married, he carried on countless affairs, and it was said this used to cause bitter fights between him and his wife. I know what you’re thinking, and while I do not believe martial tiffs are the cause of the wicked in this house, I do think it is connected. Mr. Atherton’s wife, Ethelinda, was a well loved and highly sought seamstress. They said her dresses could assure marriage for any girl who wore them. But I found news articles detailing some of Ethelinda’s less than favorable reviews. At one point in the middle of her and Erique’s contention, she would forcibly push pins and scissors into the women she made dresses for. She was taken to court over the matter, but Erique’s influence got her off. There’s no reports on anything else, until Ethelinda reported Erique missing.

“I am trying to include as much info to you as I possibly can. It may seem superficial to some, but I am trusting my gut and God. I knew God had sent that article about you to me, so I trust God has guided us together for a reason.

“I trust you do not laugh at me, for I wish to laugh at myself. I told you before, I never believed in things like this, but even this place could make the staunchest critic realize there are powers beyond the holy and the mortal. Mrs. Young, I have not just witnessed questionable things, but I have heard and seen things. There is something gnawing at me. It is at the back of my neck, teeth and breath bared upon flesh as I write this to you. I beg of you and your husband to help me. I do not know what else to do, where to turn, or what to believe. I have been praying, but for the first time in my life, I fear that prayer will not reach, and that is the most frightening thing of all.

“Yours in Christ, Sister Marni Abernathy”

I touch the back of my neck, knowing all too well the feeling she just described. Teeth and breath at the nape of my neck is something I deal with even now.

Ivan steps into my office and I quickly move my hand away from my neck. “Amy, what's the matter?” 

I shuffle the pages before me, spreading out the photographs so Ivan can see. “I was looking at this letter, this poor girl needs help.”

Ivan glances over the photographs. “Then refer her to the Stevens, we’re not working right now.” He picks one up, eyeing it closely. 

“I don’t want to send her to the Stevens.” I am uncertain of their abilities, as well as annoyed to the quick by them and their claims. “They are hacks, Ivan.”

“And I don’t want you getting hurt.” Ivan looks back at the photograph. “What did this woman say?”

“She’s a nun, so she was very hesitant to even ask.” I smooth my fingertips over the pages of the diary. “She says she’s seen things in this house, she doesn’t know what to call it, but she’s seen the worst she could possibly imagine.”

He’s still focused on that picture. “Then why doesn’t she just sell it and let someone else deal with it?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Did you not hear me, dearest? I said she’s a nun. She doesn’t want this evil getting into the world, she feels it’s her duty now to guard the door.” I flick the picture in his hand. “You see it too, don’t you?”

“There’s a man...no, a creature behind that clock.” He sets the photo down with a grimace. “We’re not going. I know you have a fondness for the church, but because some little baby nun asked you for help does not mean it’s your duty.”

“Ivan,” I scold.

“Don’t ‘Ivan’ me. We both agreed it was best for you to rest your abilities while you were pregnant, we don’t know what would happen to the baby.” He tries to give me those simpering sweet puppy dog eyes of his. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” I stand up from the desk. “I think we should go and at least look at this place. If we refer the Stevens, we could be sending them in for the slaughter.”

“If they’re hacks, they should be safe then.” Ivan gives me a kiss. “If anything, they can be the canaries in the coal mine.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit cruel, Ivan? They’re friends.”

Ivan smirks at me. “Do you call all your friends hacks?”

We end up giving the job to the Stevens, and we believe that is the end of it. I try to forget the letter, but since I keep it, I often return to it. About a week after, we receive a phone call that chills me to my bones.

Linda Stevens was found unconscious behind the house, with her fingers stitched together and her hair chopped off in chunks. A search into the house was initiated, but Hank Stevens was declared missing. Linda was unresponsive for the first few days after she was found. She started talking, but her memory was shot, she had no idea who she was or what happened to her husband in that house. She held a strong reaction to scissors, though; anytime she glanced at a pair, it sent her into a wild panic attack that made her violent.

Immediately, Ivan felt responsible. He took money from our savings to pay for Linda to go to an assisted living home. After that, he sat alone with those photos and ripped pages of the diary, until one day, he came out of the office with a grave look on his face.

“You should stay here, but I’m going to that house.”

I shake my head. “I’m not staying here. I’m going with you. You’re useless without me.” I take hold of his hand and kiss his palm. “It will be alright. We know what we’re doing.”

He touches my face then places his hand around my belly. “What if you end up like Linda, or worse, you vanish like Hank?”

“I won’t.”

He leans in close to whisper to me. “What if I do?”

“I won’t let it happen.”

His hand slides around to cup the back of my neck. “What if he finds you?”

“He’s gone,” I say assuredly. “He’s long gone.”

Ivan and I pack our bags and leave. The town this house resides in is small, looking almost abandoned. The sight of old homes and a modern shopping center is quite strange. Most of the houses have been turned into fraternity and sorority houses for the nearby college, so we see lots of young people wandering around the streets.

The old house is down a dirt road on a steep hill. We go down, down, down through trees that turn to hedges that turn to brambles, that turns to wire. The place is surrounded by barbed wire and warning signs. As we pull up to the house, I see a young woman praying out front. She rises from the dusty stoop and rises as our car approaches.

As I get out of the car, I look up at the old victorian manor. Moss and vines have taken over the brick, but the windows remain untouched, looking almost as new as they day they were installed. There is a weight upon my chest as I look at this place, it’s heavy and growing in pressure. The air around the house appears dark even though it is near noon and the sun is unclouded in the sky. 

“I can’t believe you came,” the nun whispers in disbelief. She seems to almost smile but quickly covers it. “After what happened to your friends, I was certain I would never see anyone here again.” Marni isn’t as young as I had first assumed, but she is very beautiful. She’s wearing modest clothing, but on her frame even they look fashionable. Her dark green eyes and strawberry blond hair, mixed with delicate freckles and a button nose, give her an eternally youthful appearance.

“We owe it to Linda and Hank to see this through,” I reply. “Or at least, just see what is happening here.” There is a flutter at the back of my neck, but I excuse it as a breeze.

Marni looks to my husband who is staring intently at the house. “I found more pages.” She takes her bible and pulls out more ripped pages of the diary. “I’m starting to believe it belonged to the lady of the house, I know what I had mentioned before in the letter, but I am starting to believe there was more to Mr. and Mrs. Atherton than that.”

The pages I had been given before were written by someone timid and afraid that their diary would be found, so even there, they did not open themselves up entirely. The pages were sparse, written with skilled hand and big letters. These new pages, though, were nearly black with all the script upon them, the writing was hasty and tiny to fit everything upon them.

Ivan and I both look over them as Marni keeps her hands clasped together.

Mrs. Atherton describes a difficult pregnancy, as well as the sudden pregnancy of her maid Mary Alice, whom she says is unmarried. She goes into detail about her husband’s neglect of her, but pampering of Mary Alice. She writes between being overly blissed about being a mother, then sharply shifting to anger directed at her husband.

“Classic case of philandering husband and the maid,” Ivan murmurs.

As I look at the pages, I can almost feel a calm by the woman who wrote them. I don’t sense rage or sorrow on the pages, rather, there is a calculated cool to them. “I wouldn’t make it so simple, Ivan.” I glance up at him and shake my head. “I think there is more at play here than an unfaithful husband.”

Marni’s expression flinches from grimace to surprise. “How can you tell, Mrs. Young? Is it because of your...powers?”

“I wouldn’t call them powers,” I chuckle. “I just feel things, sometimes I can see them. It’s just a matter of opening your eyes a bit more. I’m sure you can understand that, you must have a deeper knowledge of God than most.”

Marni’s smile seems forced. “I suppose I can understand that. Ever since I vowed to not go back into that house, I stay out here, praying.”

“All day?” Ivan asks.

“To keep people away from this place. And to, hopefully, keep things inside.” She motions back up the hill. “I’m sure you saw this place is filled with young people attending the college. I was not aware when I reached out to you, but apparently, it was a custom to come down here, get drunk, and stay in the house as long as possible.”

Ivan arches a brow. “You never noticed anything that would allude to that? No beer cans? No scattered cigarette butts?”

“No, sir,” she shakes her head. “I half expected it when I first came to see this place. But the house looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. As I mentioned in the letter, I was told there had been some accidents on the property because of the partying.”

I glance at Ivan who looks at me. He adjusts his glasses and nods his head, both of us agreeing without saying a word.

“Has anyone who has come here gone missing, besides Hank Stevens?” I ask her.

Marni furrows her brow. “Yes,” she answers with a stiff nod. “But I was told it was something that shouldn’t be blamed on a house.”

Ivan starts walking, studying the foundation of the house and inspecting the stairs. “So how did you come to inherit this place? You never knew your family owned it?”

“I never knew my family period, Mr. Young.” Marni watches him, seeming almost upset that he was touching the place. “I was left with the Sisters of Mount Sinai, they raised me. I never knew I had anything to my name until-” Her voice wanders away as she looks back at the house. 

“Could it have been an accident?” I ask.

Marni shakes her head regretfully. “I thought so too. But when the lawyer was telling me of my inheritance, he also gave me a document signed by the mother superior who took me in when I was abandoned. It detailed the time, date, even the weather of my arrival at the Sisters’. It dictated my name, my education, it even stated how much money the mother superior was given, I-” She shakes her head again and clasps her hands over her chest. “I thought that was the shocker of my life.”

Ivan stands at the foot of the stairs. “What happened to you inside?”

“Fingers,” she whispers.

A chill rushes down my spine. I remember the state that Linda Stevens was found in with her fingers sewn together.  “Fingers?”

“It felt like the house grabbed me and pulled me inside.” Marni looks at the door. “I brushed it off. We’ve all been told ghost stories about haunted houses. Of course, I thought this old place was spooky.” She sighs heavily, pressing her lips into a firm line. “I tried ignoring it. I prayed. I invited God in.” She looks to the doors and her eyes widen. “And as much as this terrifies me, God never came.”

Ivan hisses through his teeth. “That’s haunting.”

Marni clasps her hands together. “I don’t know what to do. My church doesn’t believe me, they think I am making up stories. But this is not what I was taught to believe.”

“Maybe we should go inside then and see what we are dealing with.” Ivan holds his hand out to me. “Watch your step, love.”

I take his hand, but as soon as I touch the stairs, it feels like someone pulls my hair. I turn around, seeing only Marni standing at the foot of the stairs. “Will you be staying out here?” I ask her.

“Never again,” she whispers to me. “I am sorry, but I cannot go with you this time, Mrs. Young.”

I keep a firm hold of Ivan’s hand, stepping onto the porch and then coming to the door. We both take a deep breath, and his thumb rubs into the center of my palm.

Ivan’s reflection in the glass looks to me. “Are you sure about this, Amy?”

“As long as we stick together, we cannot separate inside.” I squeeze his hand extra tight. “Agree with me.”

Ivan nods. “I agree with you.” He opens the door and we step into the silent house.

I hold my breath as the weight becomes undeniable upon me. I pull closer to Ivan, straining to hold his hand tight enough. Ivan’s head turns slowly, looking around the foyer as if we expect something to jump from around the corners. 

“Well,” Ivan breathes, “do you notice anything?”

I look up, along the crown molding and the ceiling. I see jagged lines cut through the plaster. I follow them, thinking they are cracks until I see something hanging from the corner. I stare at it, trying to figure out what it could possibly be, then suddenly it falls. Sharp points spin and stab into the ground before us.

Ivan pushes me behind him and we stare at the pair of scissors stabbed into the floor. Ivan’s eyes dart around again and he slowly lets me step out.

I approach the scissors, kneeling down before them. There’s blood on the handle, dried and rusted down onto the blades. I look back at Ivan who nods unsurely.

I touch the handle, gently placing my fingertips on the black. My eyelids flutter and my throat grows tight. I gasp and pant as my shoulders begin to rock. My chest surges,  pushing forward as my neck cracks back. 

There’s a man standing over a woman on the floor, her screams grow weak as the puddle of blood under her grows. A baby cries and screams as the man slowly lifts it up and scissors drop to the floor. “Are you happy now?” The man is sobbing.

I scream from my gut, coughing and wheezing as Ivan pulls my hand away from the scissors. He looks at me, terrified and in disbelief. I gaze back into his eyes and clear my throat. I catch my breath and rise on shaky knees. 

“I’ve never seen you react so strongly,” Ivan whispers. He holds me while I get used to my legs again. “I thought you were becoming possessed.”

I feel fingers stroking the back of my neck, but I ignore them. “I think something wanted to, but it was-” I squint my eyes shut tight and rub the bridge of my nose. “Give me a moment. I’ll tell you what I saw.”

“Let’s go back outside.”

I hear the baby crying again from somewhere inside the house. I look back over my shoulder and, standing in the dark hallway, I see a man dressed all in black with his mouth sewn shut. He raises a hand from the shadows. 

“Amy,” Ivan urges. “Amy!”

I barely hear him. The man in the hall has stolen my attention. His fingers are broken and twisted, wrapped around the handles of scissors. He raises the blades to his sewn lips as if to tell me to be silent. His other hand slips from the shadows, stretching out on arms that seem too long. The scissors squeak and clack as he opens and closes them.

I cry out, feeling a horrible sharp pain in my belly. Ivan hurries me from inside, picking me up and carrying me down the stairs. He runs me to the car, getting me inside as Marni chases after us.

“What happened?” Marni cries. “What’s wrong? Please! You have to help me, don’t go just yet!”

“I’m afraid we can’t stay here,” Ivan says urgently. “We can’t help you.”

Marni looks as though she’s about to wail in anguish. “You can’t leave me! You have to stay! I need you! Please!”

I struggle against Ivan, trying to push him away as he straps me into the car. “Let me go, Ivan!”

“Don’t ‘Ivan’ me!”

I push back against his hand and force myself out of the car. “We’re not leaving!”

He stares at me in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

I turn and look back up at the house.

“Amy!” Ivan yells at me.

When I was young, I used to hear babies crying as I tried to sleep. I thought it was a nightmare as I was the only child in the house. My father used to lock my bedroom door at night, except for one night, he forgot. I heard a baby crying, so I got out of bed to find it. The cry I heard in that house, reminded me of that night.

“I can’t leave just yet,” I whisper desperately to Ivan. “There’s something-” I lick my lips and catch my breath. “There is someone in there who needs me.”

“Someone?” Ivan balks. 

“Someone,” I whisper, rubbing the back of my neck.

Ivan takes my hand, moving it away. “I don’t think this is someone you can save, Amy. We need to go home. This place is too much for us now.”

“Did you hear it?” I whisper.

Ivan remains quiet.

I grab him and shake him. “Did you hear it?”

Ivan averts his gaze.

“You heard it.” I release him. “You heard the baby crying.”

Marni cups her hand over her mouth. “A baby? In such a place?”

“We need to go, Amy,” he quietly commands. “I’m not risking you or our baby.”

I shake my head. “I can’t leave. I told you. I know this is risky, but deep inside me, I know this is where I need to be. Something in there is begging for my help. Maybe it’s Hank! Maybe it’s just-” I throw my arms out. “I can’t explain it, all I can say is that I know.” I slap my hands against my chest. “But I need you to believe me.”

Ivan’s brow pinches and he looks to the house. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he squeezes tight then kisses me. “I do, that’s why I’m so hesitant.”

I look over to Marni who has her hands clasped in prayer. I extend my hand out to her. “Will you please pray with us before we start planning what to do?”

“Are you sure?” She then shakes her head. “Yes, of course. How silly of me.”

She approaches cautiously, taking my hand then Ivan’s hand. She bows her head as she begins to pray. I look into Ivan’s eyes and he looks at me. I know he’s uncertain, I am too, but this house needs to be cleared. The veil is open inside, and any who step through those doors has passed between and will be trapped behind forever.