“Poor thing...”

“Does anyone know..?”

Finally, her mother’s younger sister who’d been keeping a concerned eye on Virginia took note of her niece’s reticence and began to herd the guests out the door. Most were more-than-ready to take their leave. Curiosity had carried them to the services, yet they carried the bag empty of answers home.

“Have the police got..?”

“Do you think the psychic..?”

“You know she was here when...”

Until only two besides niece and aunt remained. Neither of the Sisters Brua had budged from the twin Highbacks since their punctual arrival. They had held reign as Sister Queens over many congregations of mourners throughout the years; it consumed their social lives. They hardly noticed the steady exodus of their Subjects, so focused on this latest of “untimely demises” were they.

“Did Mistress Rose..?”

“She has nothing to do with it!” Virginia snapped before she could stop herself.

“Of course, I didn’t mean...”

“Sister, don’t upset...”

Virginia crossed over to the ladies. “No, no ... I’m sorry. I’m just so ... I don’t know.”

“Everybody loved...”

“Well, of course ... how silly...”

“I think Ginny would like some time alone, Miss Brua ... Miss Brua.”

“Do you think that’s..?”

“I’ll stay here. She just needs some rest ... You haven’t been sleeping much, have you Ginny?”

“Not so much, Auntie.”

“Right.” She stood and offered a helping hand to the Misses’ Brua. “Ginny should lie down and try to relax.”

The spinster sisters had barely time to don their crocheted shawls before being ushered out the door. “Thank you very much for the flowers and your wonderful Taffy Apple salad. We appreciate your kind thoughts and prayers.”

“So young...”

“It just goes to show...”

“Thank you,” she called out after them. “Have a pleasant evening.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Once upstairs, though, Virginia was drawn to her left and approached the only door on that side, the door leading to the attic. The hairs on her arms stood at attention; she hadn’t opened that door since she was a lonely only child amusing herself with hidden treasures on rainy days. On her last day in the attic, she had uncovered a roll of old parchment containing barely legible words which, when spoken, called forth a Nightmare that would in 22 years escape the confinement of the attic and murder her parents as they sat in séance with Mistress Rose, their own personal psychic. (They never saw the Nightmare in the darkness as it circled the trio, choosing two and leaving one.)

The Holleys were aghast, but not surprised, when their 10 year-old daughter mentioned having seen a shadow with no person in the attic. Mother glanced fearfully at Father, who glanced fearfully back. “Dear..?”

“It’s nothing, Dear.”

“What’s nothing, Daddy?”

“Don’t worry, Sweet Pea. It’s nothing.”

Mother turned to Daughter. “Did -- did you find ... anything -- up there?”

“Sure Mommy ... I’m always finding stuff up there. It’s hidden treasure.”

“Wh-what did you find today ... a-anything?”

Virginia nodded. “I found a secret message, Mommy.”

She gasped. “A ... a secret m-message?”

“Sure. I memorized it ... just like when I played Brown Bear onstage.” She posed to begin her monologue. “ ‘I am dead. My child is...’ ”

Father interrupted quickly, loudly. “Virginia!” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I don’t want you playing in the attic anymore, do you understand? Never go up there again.”

Virginia, blue eyes scared wide, nodded obediently. “Ok, Daddy.”

And to ensure that Virginia would stay out (and the Nightmare would stay in) Mr. Holley permanently barred the attic door. Their conversation that night was strained.

“You don’t think it’s..?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Mary Evans?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Oh God.”

The next day, they called Mistress Rose in for an Exorcism. A friend had recommended her highly when they had lost a valuable piece of jewelry the year before (Mistress Rose knew exactly where it was on her ninth guess). Being a total fraud, she was ill-equipped to handle an actual paranormal emergency. Being very good at pretending otherwise, she convinced the Holleys that the Nightmare in their attic was incapable of causing them, or anyone, harm. (The truth was, she did not believe in their Nightmare -- a fact she never divulged of course -- and therefore did not hesitate to declare it an innocent Spirit.)

Since the murders, Mistress Rose has retired.

Upon reaching for the door, Virginia was not at all surprised to find it unbarred and unlocked. She distinguished a strong smell of Something Wrong, a smell she first encountered at 10. Cautiously, she ascended the dark, narrow staircase. As soon as her eyes reached floor level, she intently scanned the visible areas. There was no sign of Something Wrong, but she felt it. She was crouching by the time she reached the top step -- the ceiling had been much further away when she was 10.

As she was mid-step to the grimy, hardwood surface, she heard a solitary, final click. Auntie was in the kitchen, too far away to hear her as she lost her balance whirling around and tumbled down the 12 steps, somersaulting and pinballing against the walls. Back on the lowest step, head tilted at an odd angle, Virginia became intensely aware of every broken bone in her body. And when she finally opened her eyes, she saw only two things: Mary Evans’ shadow towering over her aching body and the words she spoke aloud in this attic all those years ago: “I am dead. My child is gone. You are dead. Your child is mine.” She closed her eyes.