Night fright

My mom died giving birth to me. I don’t know the particulars, dad gets all quiet when I ask and my aunt Disa, who married my dad when I was two, always tells me to shush and not talk about the past. There were no pictures of my mother anywhere in the house, but I knew she had long black hair. My aunt had let that slip one time when I asked her a thousand and one questions.

I have three younger half-siblings, Disa is apparently of stronger constitution than her sister. I’d like to tell you I was lacking most things growing up, but everything was as good as most people’s childhood. I suppose the fact that Disa has always been very clear with the fact she’s not my biological mother is slightly out of the ordinary, but I’ve always found it comforting. She’s my aunt, my real mother is... somewhere else.

The dreams started when I was five or six, always the same dream and always the same scream waking everyone in the house.

I’m walking home from somewhere unknown, it’s getting dark and I need to hurry up and get home. The streetlights flicker on and off, making me start to run, but I can’t run very fast because my shoes are so heavy. There’s someone walking behind me, I can hear them singing. The song is both frightening and familiar, I can never remember how it goes.

As I grew older the dreams changed.

I am home alone and someone is coming up the stairs from the cellar. I’m running around trying to lock all the doors, because if I do that the person in the cellar will never get me. There are so many doors and there is always one I forget.

Dad used to hold me tight as I woke, screaming hysterically about the pale lady in the cellar. I went to several different therapists, no one could ever make the dreams go away or explain why I had them. I grew quiet and withdrawn, every night I prayed for insomnia but every night I fell asleep so fast.

My brother and sisters had begun sleeping with earplugs, they were all tweenies with other, more important, problems than that of a crazy half-sister. Dad refused to use them, he was the one coming to me as I woke up screaming in terror, my aunt a dark silhouette by the door.

Disa had started to place crystals and all kinds of mumbo jumbo trinkets in my room. She said they were there to keep me safe, but I suspect she was getting sick of getting woken up by my screams. Her tired eyes would follow me around the kitchen in the mornings, silently accusing me of everything that was bad in her life.

I could not wait to get out of there.

The night before my high school graduation was the worst ever. The dream had changed, again.

I am now in my room, huddled in my bed, listening to the scratching noises coming from my closet. The singing makes my head hurt, I try covering my ears with my hands but the song is inside my head. I can make out the song now, Rock-a-bye baby, the sound of the voice singing scares the crap out of me. I want to move, run out the door, but if I turn my back to my closet her long arms will grab me. My eyes follow the shadows that move about in my room, she’s in one of them. I need to figure out which one. I need to get away. Something grabs a hold of my foot under the covers. I scream.

I hid the ugly red marks on my ankle by wearing thick tights under my unshapely blue graduation dress. It’s the same color as the cape, but I can’t make myself care if it’ll look stupid. It’s over. I’m moving tomorrow.

I’m on my way home to my student dorm. I have to get there fast. Before she finds out where I live. There are no lights, but a crescent moon lights my way. Not far now. The stairs to the top floor never end. There are 10.000 locks on my door. My new place smells like my old room. I don’t like that smell. I don’t like any of this. When the humming starts I want to wake up. I want to leave, but there are no doors. I turn around and realize the windows are gone too.

And there’s no floor!

Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. And down come baby, cradle and all!