Then There Were Two

Rain pelts my weak umbrella as I fumble for the keys to my house and push open the door.

“Mom, I’m home," I yell as I slip out of my raincoat and hang it on the coat rack. I climb up the stairs to my room. I open the door and collapse on my bed, letting myself sink into the mattress. My backpack feels like it's full of bricks; it’s stuffed with heaps of homework my teachers assigned. I swing it over my shoulder and it falls to the floor with a satisfying thump. Putting on a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and pulling on a pair of sweatpants, I sulk down the stairs and grab a snack before returning to my room and getting down to business. About thirty minutes into my algebraic conquest, I hear a knock on the door to my room. 

“Kathy, wanna play a game?” My five year old sister asks me, prying it open with her tiny hands and iron will. 

“No, Suzy," I reply. “I’ve got an algebra assignment to finish, and loads of studying to do,"

“Pretty please?” She begs, hands clasped. 

“Maybe later," I say, just to get her to stop pestering me.

“Yay! We can play Unicorn Pals!” She claps enthusiastically and runs off to her room, pigtails swinging like pendulums behind her. 

I’m almost done studying for a midterm when a sharp, booming crack of thunder rips through the air. Almost instantaneously, the power shuts off. I hear a scream from my sister’s bedroom. A moment later, she frantically bursts into my room. 

“Kathy! Kathy!” She says, clutching a teddy bear.

“I’m right here," I say, rustling her hair. “Get on my back,"

She smiles and hops on, her hands tight around my neck. Together we piggyback to the living room. My parents are already there, sitting on the couch with flashlights. My dad’s busy checking his phone for updates on when the power will be turned back on. It’s sort of eerie, I think to myself. The curtains are drawn tight in front of the windows, the moonlight casting shadows onto the already dim wooden floor. My mom’s lighting candles, but to me it only makes the atmosphere seem more unsettling. My sister’s timid, high-pitched voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Can we play Unicorn Pals?” She asks once I’ve set her down on the couch.

“Sure," I say. I know she’s scared, and I could never study out here. 

“Yay! Thanks Kathy. It’s in my room," she says with a big smile. Her lisp makes it even harder to resist. I grab a flashlight and head back up the dark stairs, silencing my fears and telling myself to be mature. I follow the pink glow of heart shaped lights into my sister’s room. Sure enough, the sparkly box with a caricature of a grinning unicorn is laying on her bed. I grab the box, as well as her battery-powered lights to cheer her up. Back in the living room, I set up the game, arrange the lights in a halo and pat the ground next to me, motioning for Suzy to sit down. She sits down rather gracefully for a five year old, although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering she’s in a princess dress.  

“You first," she says, leaning across the board to grab her game piece, a sparkly pink unicorn named Glitterhorn. I decided on a metallic-looking purple unicorn named Moonbeam.

I move Moonbeam two spaces forward.

“I’m gonna go shower real quick. I’ll prop up a flashlight so I’m not fumbling in the dark,” my mom says with a little laugh, getting up from the couch and going down the hall.

“Okay mommy," Suzy says before turning her attention back to the game.

“Your turn," I say to Suzy.

She moves Glitterhorn five spaces.

A slight humming noise catches my attention, and I turn my head to look around.

“Dad, what’s that noise?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. Must be the heater or something. I’ll go check it out, although I’m sure it’s nothing," he says, getting up from the couch.

“Watch your sister for me, okay?” he says to me as he goes up the stairs.

“Got it, dad," I say with a reassuring smile.

About thirty more minutes pass, the only noises being the strange hum and the occasional remark from Suzy as we move our game pieces. I try to shake the uneasy feeling growing in me, but I can’t.

“Where’s mommy?” Suzy asks.

“I don’t know. She should be back by now," I say. Now that I think about it, shouldn’t both of our parents be back by now?

“I’ll go get her," Suzy says, standing up. I’m surprised that her seven year old brain doesn’t think there’s a ghost or something, but I remember what my dad told me.

“No, Suzy. Stay with me and play your unicorn game,"

“But I want daddy and mommy!” Suzy says, stomping her feet and throwing a classic temper tantrum.

“I know, Suzy, but Dad asked me to make sure you stayed here with me."

“Kathy, I want mommy and daddy!” She chokes through her sobs. With that, she runs up the stairs. I spring to my feet, lunging after her.

“Suzy!” I say, rushing up the stairs. I’m surprised she ran so fast. She’d turned the corner at the top of the stairs before I even reached the landing. I reach the top of the stairs and rush into her room. But she’s not there. She’s not in my room or my parent’s room either. She’s nowhere to be found, and neither are my parents.

“Suzy?” I say, slightly annoyed but growing fearful.

“Mom? Dad?” 

I slowly walk back down the stairs and sit next to Suzy’s pink fairy lights, desperate for an escape from the vast darkness that surrounds me. I recall every horror movie I’ve ever watched. Don’t go into the bedroom. So I wait in the living room, for what, I don’t know. I’m terrified. My heart hammers out of my chest. Then, something shifts. A candle dies. The pink lights flicker, then go out.

Suddenly, I know I’m not alone. But the presence is not comforting.

“Who's there?” I ask, my heart hammering out of my chest.

“Hello," a voice whispers.