The Figure

THE FIGURE

By Lily Tainter

DEDICATED TO ALVIN SCHWARTZ, FOR CREATING THE AMAZINGLY SPINE-CHILLING SPOOKY STORIES BOOK SERIES.

Maple leaf writing project

Brattleboro, VT

Copyright 2019

I just wake up and find myself alone in me and my mother’s house. I rub my sleepy eyes and let out a roaring yawn.

I find a note on my night stand and it reads:

Dear Sarah, I know that you're probably wondering who wrote this and why it's here, but you'll find out just who wrote this very, very soon. I would just like to tell you that you are in very grave danger. Run, from me.

Sincerely, your father..

I look at it and as I get chills down my spine, I also think about why it's even there, and more important, who wrote it.

During the past two weeks i've been feeling strange, or… weird, different than normal. I think the reason behind this strange feeling is the fact that i've been seeing something, or someone, everywhere. I've been seeing a shadowy figure in the dark hall that leads to the bathroom, in my closet, and even under my bed. It freaks me out.

My mother is currently in the hospital, and it doesn't help that I live alone because of that. And you wouldn't believe the cause of my mother being in the hospital, she explained that she had been attacked by some sort of shadowy, phantom figure. Like the one I keep seeing. I guess it adds to the freakiness.

I had a terrifying dream that night, let me explain. I was lying in bed, scrolling social media on my phone, when I see a tall dark figure burst into my room, it felt so real and I almost believed it was. The figure knocked down an indigo coloured vase on my shelf. It shattered into a million sharp slices and made a loud crash. The rain was hitting the rooftop like reindeer hooves galloping on a road, and a flash of lightning flickered in the window like a candle light.

I couldn't move because I was paralyzed, the figure looked at the vase and back at me. Then it shuffled towards me. When it reached me it got so close up, I could feel it's tenseness. I’ll give my best to describe it’s face. It was black, no eyes, no mouth, no nose. It was basically a black shadow but it was.. scribbled, like in a drawing from a kindergartener.. but it seemed so real. Then all of the sudden I black out. I remember the last thing I saw was the mangled face, watching me crumble to the floor, like a piece of paper.

The next thing I know is that I'm being cradled in the shadows arms, but when I try to look at it's face, it vanished, dropping me on the floor. I felt my back sting, it felt scalding.

I wake up sweating, I look at the alarm clock. It reads 1:00 AM. I roll my head to face the soft pillow. All I can think of is that figure, that tall shadowy figure. It gives me chills to even think about it.

I get dressed at 6:00, everyday, every month, every year. But today, something happened. I scanned where my vase is supposed to be on my shelf, but it was shattered on the wood floor next to my door, just like in the dream. I get chills down my spine as the thought of the figure pops into my head like the lightning bolt outside.

I get dressed, in a classy dress, like normal. I walk into the living room and try to grab my coat, but something stopped me. Like a force. But then I feel the stale cold hand on my arm, that’s what stopped me. It was the figure, it was back. But this time, it wasn't a dream. This was real, I knew it was.

I slowly look up at the figure. This time, it’s got a face, a real one. The figure is a scribble of black sharpie, and the eyes, nose, and mouth are painted on white. I see it grinning at me, that crooked long smile. I hated it. It reminded me of my father.

I hated my father. He had caused me and my mother so much trouble, he was like the devil himself. I hated staring into those devilish eyes and thinking of when him, he my mother and I were a “real” family. I didn't like thinking of those times, but somehow they manage to escape from the cage I locked them in.

I struggled to escape the figure, and I managed to. Then I grabbed my jacket and ran outside. I could feel the crooked eyes watching me run, they were sorrowful and painful. The thought that my dad haunted that house sent chills all over my body.

Once I got to high school, Seagull High school if you were wondering, people were staring at me. Not just at me, but above me. I felt faint breathing blow my hair forward, but I didn't really take note of it since it could be some kid walking behind me.

I walked up to Laura (my best friend) and she seems to mumble when she talks, but keeps a positive act. Normally she's an extroverted person. We talk about our new favorite book and of course we do our weird little handshake. But I notice that her hands stutter when we do it. Laura finally drops her positive little act, and she points above me. I turn around and fill up with shrill horror.

I was terrified. It was the figure, drooling over me. I ran straight to the girl’s bathroom and slammed the door. I could still hear the faint gasping and mumbling of the other students outside, and I could tell they saw the figure.

I melted to the floor in despair. It followed me, the figure, and I was petrified. I tried to initiate a conversation with it but I just heard a small voice mumble something I didn't hear. Something like…. Run? I don't really know.

My school life has become a nightmare. For the rest of the day at school, people were whispering and mumbling about the figure following me. It had been grinning that crooked, evil grin that it loves to wear, everywhere. I don't know why I wasn't screaming or even panicking. It happened so fast. I came home, very confused. What was that figure? Why was it following me? It was all a jumble of thoughts all running around in my head.

The next day, the same thing happened. I got whispers and mumbles from friends. It happened the next day and the next.

I found another note, this scared me the most.

Dear Sarah, I walked with you in school. I watched the kids gasp and mumble, I saw it all. You should use these notes as a guide, just believe it. I know your mother, I know all about you, Sarah. You're the puppet on my strings. You'll get some information in the library, listen to the girl. She knows about me.

Sincerely, your father..

A few weeks later I visit my mother in the hospital. In a week or so, she could come home, I was so happy.

When I stepped into her room, she froze and stared at the figure above my head. I knew she was staring at it, I knew the doctors were staring at it, I knew the world was staring at it. “Honey, what’s that behind you?” my mother asked in that kind, loving voice she has.

I turned around and stared at the figure. “I hate you.” I said to it. I had a theory.

“Sweetie? Are you alright?!” my mother asked.

“I'm fine, Mom.”

“What's wrong?” she scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion.

“I have to go, bye Mom. Love you.” And I walk out.

Later that day, I'm scrolling social media and found some gossip. A girl named Sylvia had been spreading rumors to her friends saying that I am some devil worshiping girl who brings a demon to school. I hated it all.

When I went to school, people would stare at me. When I got home, people on social media would accuse me of bringing a demon everywhere. All the taunting and accusing. I had had enough of their nonsense.

My mom finally got home. She and I both know about the figure since I told her. I sometimes think of sacrificing my life for hers, they aren't pleasant thoughts.

I got to talk to the figure one Sunday morning. I saw it in my bedroom closet. I watched it walk out of the closet and sit in my green rocking chair. It sat there staring at me and I was used to it, from high school, but this time, the stalked became the stalker. I asked the figure what it’s name was. No answer. I asked it if it was my father, I heard a soft “..Yes..”

That night, I had another dream. I was in a library, and I saw the figure standing behind a tall bookshelf, but it was just tall enough to peek over it. It was watching me closely and I tried to ignore it. A little girl trotted up to me, she was wearing a pink bow in her hair and a fancy puffy pink dress. She asked me if I’d seen it.

“What?” I asked.

“It.” she said softly.

“The figure..” she added.

“Um, that one?” I pointed to the one peeking over the book shelf.

“Yes.”

“What about it?” I asked, confused.

“You can ask it three questions. But don’t ever try to ask it a fourth, or it will tyrannize you, got it?”

“Um.. Yeah?” I answered.

Then I remembered the note on my nightstand, in the library, with the girl...

I woke up in a cold sweat as I looked over at the rocking chair. I saw the figure in the rocking chair, rocking it slowly. “Are you my father?” I asked.

“Yes.” the figure answered.

I sat on my bed, trembling. Was any of this actually real? Or was I still just dreaming. “How’d you die?”

“I got crushed by a piano.” It grumbled in a scratchy voice.

“Why’d you abuse my mother and me?”I asked

“You didn't respect me.”

“How so? We were just living our lives! How were WE the ones disrespecting you?” I asked in frustration. I asked a fourth question.

It grinned that crooked grin again, it looked mischievous and spine-chilling. The figure mumbled something before vanishing. I couldn’t hear it really, all I could understand was “Clocks.. Ticking”? Then it gave me a folded paper before vanishing.

Dear Sarah, I think you know who I am.

Sincerely, your father.

The following week I’ve been seeing that tall figure in hallways and in corners. I don't really know what it's doing or what it wants, maybe it's a lost soul. It always mumbles something before vanishing. It raised it's voice one time and I could understand one word and it was “Sarah.” That was my name. I was terrified.

One night I was getting a drink and I saw the figure again, with a CHEESE GRATER. I stared at the shiny cheese grater, then back at the figure. It started limping towards me, I knew what was happening, I asked a fourth question. But I don't know why it happened.

I started running up the stairs to my bedroom but it grabbed me. I felt the cheese grater slice a bit of my arm hair, I guess the figure likes hair as a topping, yuck. I screamed and the figure let go as I basically sprinted up the stairs.

I wake up, sweating. I realize it was a dream. Then I see the hairs gone on my left arm. I am petrified and I feel like I was losing my mind. I notice the tall black figure in the doorway, with the cheese grater. I stared at it. It stared at me.

Those shining white eyes, lifeless. I felt sorry for it, it was my dead father. Right? I should feel bad, but he abused me.. and my mom. I don't know which side to choose. I wanted to talk to it so I said something. “I'm sorry.¨

Its eyes widened, and it stopped limping towards me and loosely grasped the cheese grater. “But I would like to join you, Father. It would be relieving to.. You know..” I said, I opened my arms wide to him.

He hesitated to come closer to me. I was almost face to face with it like my first “dream”. He kissed my forehead and then raised the cheese grater, he was going to grate my face..? Before he could… grate me, my best friend Laura bursted into my room and was holding a cheese grater, gosh I didn't know I had so many cheese graters. “You can’t kill him.” I said.

“Sarah, what's happening?!” Laura screamed at me, still grasping the cheese grater I could see her hands trembling.

The figure vanished as me and sarah looked at each other. For some reason we started laughing, I don't know why. Maybe it was the fact that she was threatening a phantom with a cheese grater. I saw tears roll down Laura's face.

I explained to her the whole story from childhood to college, it was funny explaining it, I still don't know why we were dying of laughter. It all seemed like a hilarious prank someone was pulling on me.

My friends are so supportive and helpful and everything is great! Until one night… I’m talking with Laura about my Mother and how she's getting so much better. the figure comes back, with the knife. He stares at my friend and starts limping towards her. My friend didn't notice until the figure was face to face with her. She screamed and started running up the stairs. He followed. I followed. I hesitated and tried to grasp the figures arm but instead I fell right through it and onto the floor of the stairs. It felt like I broke something.

Next thing I know I hear a faint squeal from Laura. No… It can't be what I think it is..

I quickly spring up and scan every room for any sign of Laura. I get to the bedroom and find a large pool of red blood staining my bed. I see a trail of red leading to the window and outside. I see Laura laying on the ground and red pools surrounding her. I scream in terror and the figure puts it's stale crusty hand on my mouth. I turn around and see it staring at me.

I see the sorrow in its eyes, the pain and sorrow. I hate staring at them. I run downstairs but of course, it follows me. I feel it grab me and I turn around fairly slow to look at it again. This time, instead of running, I walk to my living room and invite the figure onto the couch with me, it was very casually set up.

“I want to join you now, father.” I said.

Before anything else happens, he stabs me in the heart. I don't get up, I just lay there silently.

I finally wake up, and I look at my hands, they're scribbled in black. I cry because I know what's happening, and it isn't good. I read that people like my father, those figures, will attempt to follow, manipulate, attack,and do other harmful things to unaware people. When the figures got them as a puppet on strings, they turn them into scribbly black color pencil monsters, and that's what I am.

So I'm staring at my stale skin as I cry, and then my father shows up.

My father is a normal human, somehow. ¨ I thought you were dead! Go back to your stone grave, covered in cobwebs and moss!¨ I hiss at him.

“well, seems like the tables have turned. Sorry Sarah, had to happen.” he says

“Why you..” I say in anger.

Then he walks downstairs and out the door. I'm still crying dry tears and looking down at my hands. I also read that you could get rid of this figure thing by redoing what my Dad did. I don't know if I can kill a human, I mean it's really morbid. I melt to the stiff floor and then I hear footsteps up the stairs. Step step step. I look up to see my father once again, but now he hands me a note. It reads:

Dear Sarah, won't you wake up? You need to wake up. Your mother is chanting your name, it's time for school, Laura is waiting at school. Get up. You're not too tired, come on, just wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Sincerely, your father.

Then I wake up, It was all just a terrible dream. I wake up in my bed, and I hear my mother calling my name. I hop out of bed processing what happened, and my mom’s chants begin to sound stranger. When I creep down our stairs, my “mother” begins to sound like the figure in my dreams, and I get a bit freaked out. When I get to the last step of the stairs.. “Creak.” I stop. When I peek into the living room, and hear my mother's scratchy voice, now another voice joining hers, I see something I dreaded for months.

The figures.

THE END