17. Daisy
Seventeen
Daisy
The door shuts behind me with a resounding click, swallowing the last sliver of light.
I violently shudder as I scan the shadowy room, which is lit only by dripping candles that bleed wax onto the floor.
The carousel music from the mirrored hallway is distant, creating a spooky backdrop.
Goosebumps crawl up my arms like little spiders.
Creepy, antique dolls line the walls, their glass eyes gleaming with uncanny life.
It’s almost as if humans are imprisoned within their tiny bodies.
They’re arranged in perfect rows atop dark oak shelves, some clutching their plaid dresses with dainty hands, while others lean in, frozen mid exchange of whispered confessions.
My breath quickens, sweat slick on my skin.
I brace for a pigtailed doll to swivel its face toward me.
My heart thumps in my ears and I hold my breath, waiting and watching, before finally turning away.
Dread coils in my chest like I’m making a huge mistake in giving the dolls my back, but before I can think more of it, I find a jar of doll heads that stare back at me.
The candles tremble, casting shadows of elongated figures rising against the walls. They’re coming for me.
A creak echoes through the room, and I whip my head around.
In the corner, a weathered rocking chair cradles a porcelain girl, her face fractured and features warped into a haunting expression.
Unlike the other dolls, she seems older—more woman than girl, really, as though she’s a caregiver for the others. And a harbinger of evil.
I take a step back, my legs trembling.
I’m not sure if there are any blights in this room or they’ve run elsewhere, but these dolls might be the most terrifying thing I’ve ever encountered. Creepy little fuckers.
The chair creaks again, and both my heart and I jump.
“Fuck,” I gasp, clutching my chest. “I think fucking not.”
I stumble back, knees threatening to buckle and I whirl around, bolting from the room.
The door crashes shut behind me. Pressed against a mirror, I gulp for air, trying to steady myself.
I realize this is a life-or-death moment, but I can’t force myself to move. The thought of searching that room for a weapon makes my stomach turn. Those dolls are waiting for me, hungry and possessed by something ancient and evil.
Jason will have to forgive me.
A heavy silence presses in, and my heart plummets. It’s too quiet. I glance down the hallway, and the sight of its emptiness steals the breath from my lungs. My eyes search the mirrors hoping to find him trapped in a warped reality, but there’s nothing. He’s not here.
“Jason?” I shout, but there’s no response.
A heavy weight drops in my chest.
The awful visions the voice revealed earlier surge through my mind.
Jason collapses, his body folding unnaturally, bones cracking.
This is no game—lives are at stake. An entire town, oblivious as they are, counts on us.
A tremor of nerves ripples through me while I stand at a crossroads.
Should I go back to the eerie doll room, or risk everything on the next door in front of me?
“Shit,” I curse, wishing I had kept a knife from the kitchen, but it’s too late to go back.
Instead, I move forward.
When I push open the door, a flurry of colorful balloons floats my way while streamers twist overhead, weaving a tangled canopy that hides the rest of the room.
The space is drenched in wild rainbow hues.
At first, it seems almost fun. Then I spot the discarded clown masks.
Suddenly, eerie music trickles in, winding through the air like a tune from a possessed music box.
A shiver crawls up my spine when I realize that if blights hadn’t taken over, I would have had to face murderous looking clowns jumping out at me.
Next Halloween, I’m definitely not coming back. Maybe a ghost tour at the asylum would be better.
A balloon bounces towards me and I swat it aside, nerves prickling.
“It’s too quiet…and when it gets quiet, something bad is bound to happen,” I mutter under my breath.
Precious seconds slip by while I search for a weapon. Jason is out there somewhere, and worry gnaws at me. I look inward to the voice for guidance, silently begging for a sign that Jason is safe, but only silence answers. I exhale harshly and force myself to move faster.
The unsettling music swells, filling the air. Shadowy horses glide along the walls, rising and falling in time with the haunting melody before the entire room whirls in a twisted waltz.
My legs tremble as I stagger forward, the ground pitching beneath me. I need to stay focused. This room is trying to distract me.
I don’t see the blight until it’s too late.
It barrels at me, bursting through the streamers and locking its swollen arms around my body.
My scream rips through the air as we crash to the ground.
My nails dig into the soft flesh, sinking through the rotting tissue and tearing it apart.
I pull apart strips of meat, my heart pounding louder than the music.
“I didn’t spend two hours doing my makeup to die fighting moldy looking cheese!
” I claw faster, gritting my teeth together.
Life or death.
The blight towers above me and its mouth yawns wide. A wave of fetid heat washes over my skin, the stench of decay curling from its rotted teeth. I claw at its chest frantic, but the monster’s grip refuses to loosen. Adrenaline surges, propelling me to fight harder.
With a guttural groan, I force myself upright and slam my forehead into the blight’s monstrous face. Pain erupts. Its grip falters. I scramble to my feet, groaning as my nose throbs. My eyes dart around for anything that might help.
A balloon floats my way, drifting aside to reveal it. A sledgehammer banded in red and white stripes. I bolt forward, the roar of my own pulse drowning out the music. I pray it will be powerful enough to defend me.
My fingers curl tightly around the hilt, every muscle in my arms burning as I heave it upward.
It has weight—it might be enough. Every one of my senses prickles, telling me that the blight is close behind me.
I spin on the heel of my boot and swing.
My hammer slams into the monster’s gut, forcing it to double over, gasping for air.
I need to get back to Jason.
Gripping the hilt with both hands, I hoist the hammer high above my head and bring it crashing down. The blight erupts in a shriek of pain and collapses at my feet. Blood bubbles through the cracks in its skull, but I need to make sure it won’t rise again.
Destroy it.
“It’s time to die, motherfucker.”
I strike repeatedly—again and again— until the blight’s head is nothing but ruined pulp. My arms quake so violently that the weapon slips from my grasp and crashes to the ground with a metallic thud.
“Shit,” I hiss through heavy breaths. Sweat covers my body.
I’m wasting too much time.
Each step sinks my boot deeper into the slick mess of brain matter as I cross the monster’s remains. The hammer is too heavy to bring with me. I scan the wreckage, looking for a weapon that’s lethal enough to tip the odds in my favor.
A dartboard hangs on the wall, riddled with what appears to be throwing knives.
I rush over and snatch two, their cold metal ringing shrilly as I knock them together.
Not much, but it’s better than nothing. I can stab the blades through a blight’s throat or jab its eyes out.
That’s better than ruining more of my manicure.
It’s bad enough that I’ve got monster goo under my nails.
Running through the balloons, I burst out of the room, uncertain of how much time has slipped away. But it’s long enough that Jason could be lying dead in a room. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have left him in the first place. That was my first mistake––listening to a goddamn man.
I enter the mirrored hallway and look around. There’s only silence. Too much silence. Even the music has stopped.
“Jason!” I scream. “Where are you?”
My eyes dart from side to side while uncertainty tugs at me, urging me to choose a path.
It seems unlikely that he would retrace his steps to the front of the house. Left is the only way forward.
I burst into a sprint, haunted by shifting reflections that mock me from every angle. Ignoring the door on my right, I charge forward. The outline of the door ahead quivers like it’s rewarding my choice, hinting that this is the correct path.
I need to get back to Jason.
My fingers curl around the handle. “Please, let him be okay. If my future husband is dead, I’m never going to forgive him.” My hand shakes as I push the door open and slip into the waiting darkness.