The Haunted 1: The Helper

This is the first part of a running series I’m going to try and finish on Halloween.  It’s, in part, based on the other “fave winner” of the last poll and also very loosely based on an old film that I’ll bet none of you have seen.

Carlie’s eyes opened slowly, a smile on her face as she greeted the new day.  She stretched her arms and legs out, trying to be careful as she tried to come awake.

Of course, she knew the first thing she had to do.  She reached up, although it took a moment, and placed her hands on either side of her head before pulling it down, pressing it onto her neck, attaching it again.  After that, she positioned herself next to her hips, her top half resting on the cut, before she maneuvered her top half onto her bottom half, feeling her body completely rejoining.

As soon as she felt that intensely good feeling of rejoining her body, she smiled again.

As she stood, making her bed, she thought about how it wasn’t that long ago, at least not by her memory, when she first halved and beheaded herself to get to sleep.  It always felt excellent, doing that, and she had the best dreams.

As she moved to her closet, she had to remember to be careful.  The frame was still kind of fragile from the fire.

It hadn’t been that bad a fire, not that long ago, but there was still damage all over her house from it.  She kept trying to get help to get it set right, but nobody ever came.  At least nobody did until someone actually emailed her a few days ago.

Carlie got dressed and went over to her bedside table.  There, faithfully leaning against it, was one of her dad’s swords.  As she picked it up, she walked to the special room in the house, strangely one of the only ones that didn’t have any damage at all.

As she opened the door, she took it all in again.  Yes, on one wall, there was a vast array of cutting implements, from saws to cleavers to swords, like the one she was holding.  But the room was filled with all sorts of boxes and coverings, all of them so-called “illusions.”

Carlie’s parents were magicians, and they’d been very well known.  Nobody could ever figure out how they seemed to pull off the incredible sleights they did, but Carlie knew.

She knew from the day her mom and dad introduced her to the reality of it, that first day they sawed her in half.

She could still remember that remarkable feeling, having her hips separated from her torso.  It always amazed her.

But then there was the accident, the one where they couldn’t get out of the car before it exploded, leaving Carlie an orphan.

Well, not really an orphan, but she did inherit the entire house.  That was a few years ago now, and she’d done well, carrying on the legacy.

And then, what seemed like both years ago and a few days, something caught on fire in the house.  Carlie still gasped at it, not knowing what really caused it, but she knew she’d done her best to fight it as she called the fire department.

It all seemed like such a blur to her now, the damage.  Still, her house was mostly usable.

But she had to keep going.

As she got breakfast ready, something occurred to her.  The cereal bowls weren’t where they were supposed to be.  After a moment of wondering, she shrugged.  She probably moved them there by mistake, nothing too serious.

As she sat to eat her cereal, a voice called out to her. “Eh mate.”

Carlie smiled as she turned. “Hello Nicky.”

The blonde girl, not much older than Carlie herself, came in, smiling.  She looked like she was ready to do something handy today as she spoke in her clear Australian accent. “Whatcha say we try and tackle more of the cellar today?”

Carlie looked at her bowl. “Okay.  Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you down there.”

As she ate, she felt a cold chill come up her back.  Why did Nicky want to get into the basement so bad?