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EVERGREEN:The Awakening

By Terrie McClayC. 2016

~Terrie McClay~

~CHAPTER ONE~2014

Claire climbed the wedge-shaped stairs leading from the kitchen to the second story bedroom, which had once served as the servant’s quarters. Chelsea, her seven-year old sibling, was on her heels. One hand tugged at Claire’s pajama top while the other clutched Mitzy, a small stuffed bunny that was never far from her side.

“I’m scared,” Chelsea whimpered.“Don’t be silly. It was just a dream.”The floorboards creaked and groaned with each

step that drew them closer to the landing. Old houses always fascinated Claire, and this one in particular gave the appearance of a living, breathing entity.

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“No, I saw her,” Chelsea insisted. “She was real.”Chelsea’s vivid imagination was always creating

fanciful tales. Claire would have chalked this one up to one as well, except she had reason to believe Chelsea this time. She, herself, had overheard their father telling Grandma of a mysterious woman that he had seen several years ago in the room above the kitchen – the room that they called The View.

The View, a clap and board structure, was the oldest section of the house; it was built in the early 1700’s. Named for its view, the room overlooked a three-acre pond that was frequently visited by geese, deer, and a wide variety of birds and wildlife, including an occasional bear.

“I don’t wanna sleep up here by myself,” Chelsea cried.

Claire stopped at the landing and looked down the dimly lit hallway. “I’ll sleep with you tonight, if you’d like.”

Chelsea squeezed Claire’s hand. “Okay … but I’m still scared.”

Me too. Claire had only slept in the room a handful of times between the ages of six and ten. The last time was nearly fourteen years ago. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping there now, any more than she had

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then. There was something disturbing about the room, not so much frightening, but unnerving.

As a child, Claire had awoken in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of the doorknob rattling. She’d called out, thinking it was her mother, but no one answered. This had happened several times throughout the night. Finally, after convincing herself that it was her cousin playing a shrewd prank on her, she’d shrugged it off and eventually fell back to sleep.

Though the experience had been terrifying, over the years Claire had become intrigued by the unknown, the mysterious and the paranormal. Perhaps she had watched too many old ghost movies to imagine that the rattling of the doorknob had been anything but a ghost.

“What if she’s still in there?” Chelsea whined.“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.” How could Claire

possibly explain to her seven-year-old sibling, without frightening her, that the woman she had seen standing at the window may very well have been real?

With Chelsea in tow, she crept down the hallway, careful not to awaken their cousin Morgan who was sleeping in the room directly across from The View.

Opening the door, Claire flipped on the light switch, and stepped over the threshold. “See, there’s no one here.”

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“But I saw her. She was right there next to the window.”

“You’re sure you saw a lady?”“Yes … . She was very pretty, and she smiled at

me.”The curtain fluttered and a rush of arctic air swept

across the floor.“Silly you … you left the window open.”“No I didn’t.”Claire crossed the room and closed the window,

shivering when a wave of coldness engulfed her entire body. She couldn’t have felt more chilled if she had stepped into a walk-in freezer. Her breath poured over her lips in a stream of misty vapor. Shuddering, she hugged her arms around her middle, and turned from the window.

“Into bed,” she said.“I wanna go home. Please, Claire. Please. ” “Ssshh … It’s only for the holidays. Besides, Nami

promised to let us help bake cookies in the morning.” Nami was the pet name that Chelsea had given to Grandma – a name that they had all grown quite fond of.

“Will Uncle David be coming?”“Yes, and Aunt Grace. Now into bed.”

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~Terrie McClay~

“You sleep next to the window,” Chelsea said, climbing between the covers of the old four-posted double bed, and pulling Mitzy snuggly against her chest.

“Okay.” Claire smiled. Lifting the extra quilt from the back of the rocking chair, she draped it over the bed, and slipped beneath the covers. Pulling the string to the lamp on the nightstand, she turned her back to the window, and nuzzled up to Chelsea. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Claire.” Within minutes, Chelsea was in a sound sleep.

Claire was not so fortunate. Instead, she lay awake, aware of every sight and sound in the room, every shadow, every cloud passing over the moon. An hour passed before she finally dozed off, and it was not restful. Even in sleep, her senses were on full alert, listening to the sound of footsteps shuffling across the room to the window.

Hundreds of imaginings reeled through her mind. Not wishing to disturb Chelsea, she peered into the semi-darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious woman who had frightened her sister. But she saw no one.

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In the wee hours just before dawn, Claire awoke to what appeared to be a willowy figure passing in front of the window, then disappearing.

Claire blinked and squinted. Finally convincing herself that she had merely seen a moonlit shadow, and nothing more, she returned to sleep.

Little did she know, she was dead-wrong.* * * * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Claire jolted from a sound sleep to a blood, curdling cry, followed by the pummeling of Chelsea’s fists against her chest.

“I hate you. I hate you.”Claire pulled the child into her arms. “It’s okay,

sweetheart … . Did you have another bad dream?”Chelsea looked up through her tears. Curling her

lips into a stern pout, she pointed to the far corner of the room where the rocking chair stood. “You’re mean. You know Mitzy likes to sleep with me.”

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Claire stared through the dim, morning light to where her sister was pointing. To her surprise, Mitzy was sitting dead center in the rocking chair, which now faced the window.

“Why did you take her away?” Chelsea cried.“I didn’t …”

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Chelsea looked up at Claire through large, teary eyes “Then who did?”

Who or what? An arctic chill ran from Claire’s head clear down to her toes. She needed an answer that would pacify a seven-year old child, and she needed one quickly. Chelsea’s puckered lips were a clear indication that she was growing more distressed by the minute.

“It was the lady, wasn’t it? She took Mitzy.”“I’ll bet it was one of Santa’s elves,” Claire said. Or

Morgan. What a cruel joke to play on a little girl. She intended to have a word with Morgan the first chance that she caught her alone.

Climbing out of bed, Claire lifted Mitzy from the chair and handed her to Chelsea.

The child’s eyes lit up with excitement. She kissed the stuffed bunny, hugged it close to her chest, then suddenly gazed up at Claire dubiously. “But how did the elf get in here?”

Claire frowned. Chelsea was always full of questions, and every answer was followed by another question. “I’m guessing that he came in through the window. Maybe he’s the one who left it opened, last night.”

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“I’ll bet he’s hiding under the bed,” Chelsea beamed. She leaned over the edge of the mattress and lifted the bedspread.

Claire cringed. When she was Chelsea’s age, her cousin Raymond told her that that was where the Devil Man hid. As a child, the very idea terrified her. Every time she slid from the bed to the floor, she was afraid the monster would grab her by the ankle and drag her under the bed to the secret door that led to the underworld. It was silly, but somehow she had always wondered if there wasn’t a wee bit of truth to that tale.

Chelsea’s excitement turned to disappointment. The wooden floor beneath the bed was bare, all but a few wisps of dust bunnies. “He’s gone. The elf is gone.”

“He’s probably off helping Santa, “Claire said. “I think I smell bacon. I’ll bet Nami is cooking breakfast.”

“I don’t smell bacon.”This child is way too smart for a seven-year old …

Coffee. I need coffee. Claire lifted Chelsea from the bed and lowered her to the floor. “Come, we’ll go see.” Taking Chelsea’s tiny hand, she squeezed it lightly, and started for the door. “I’ll bet Taylor’s awake.”

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~Terrie McClay~

“I hope Taylor and Nami haven’t started baking cookies without us.” Chelsea pulled free of Claire’s hand and darted for the stairwell.

“Chelsea, wait …”With Mitzy swinging at her side, Chelsea was

already through the doorway and scurrying down the steps to the kitchen.

Claire placed her hands on her hips and sighed. The child reminded her too much of herself.

Grabbing her hooded sweatshirt, she started for the door, stopping dead in her tracks when she heard the distinct sound of creaking floorboards directly behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turned.

A gray, glowing mist swept across the hardwood floors toward her ankles. An icy draft penetrated clear to her bones. She froze instantly. Her entire body went numb, all but the rapid pounding of her heart. Her feet refused to move. Her voice hitched in her throat. Only a faint gargle escaped when she tried to scream, tried to call out to someone– to anyone downstairs who might hear her. Her eyes were the only movement her body allowed. She watched in fear as they followed the mist as it slithered like a snake, making a full circle around her stockinged feet before retreating toward the window as swiftly as it had appeared.

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Several seconds passed before she shrugged out of her stupor, hurried down the stairs, and made a beeline for the bathroom. Splashing several sprays of cold water onto her face, she stared at the haunting figure in the mirror. She was as pale as a ghost. Is that what she had seen? A ghost?

Minutes passed before Claire composed herself enough to join the others without drawing attention to her appearance.

When Claire entered the kitchen, Chelsea was sitting at the table beside Nami. To her left, were Aunt Elizabeth and her ten-year old daughter, Taylor. Sitting directly across from them, and preoccupied with her cell phone, sat Morgan, Taylor’s older sister of fifteen. Uncle Raymond was nowhere within sight.

Chelsea looked up with large, bright eyes, and smiled excitedly. “Tell them Claire. Tell them about the elf.”

Claire returned the smile. Though it was a fake smile, none-the-less there was little harm in playing along with Chelsea’s tale if it would lessen the child’s fear of the unknown. She would however, ask Grandma about the gray mist on the first opportunity that they had alone.

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~Terrie McClay~

~CHAPTER TWO~

Claire stared through the rippled pane glass window to the young buck crossing the field. Snow, falling at a

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heavier rate than an hour ago, covered his back and clung to the curves of his antlers.

Evergreen. The name rolled from Claire’s lips. Evergreen Estate; it was named for the lush forest that used to surround it. In recent years the forest had given way to fields of corn and pasture. Nestled between the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, it stood only a short distance from the Maryland border.

Claire loved the place. The estate had been in her family for nearly three centuries. She had spent her childhood here – fishing and skating on the pond, sledding, horseback riding, picking wildflowers – so many cherished memories of her parents before the dreadful car accident took them away over four years ago.

She looked down at the paint-chipped windowsill. The manor was in grave need of repair, and Claire was the next in line to inherit the rambling historic relic when she turned twenty-five next summer. If she chose to restore the old home, replacing the electricity and the plumbing would be her first priority. Those alone would consume a fair amount of the insurance policy that her father had left in escrow.

Claire turned from the window when she heard the soft footsteps shuffling across the room.

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“Grandma …”“There you are dear,” Virginia said. Looping her

arm through Claire’s, she turned toward the window. “Isn’t it lovely? I so enjoy the first snow of the season. When your father was a child, we used to tack up the horses and ride through the snow like the devil was chasing us … Foolish, I know, but there was nothing more exhilarating. You don’t ride anymore, do you dear?”

“Not since I lost Hailey. It’s just not the same anymore, Grandma.”

“Nothing is the same when we lose someone we love.”

Claire knew that disheartening truth all too well. In five years, she had lost both her parents; her Morgan mare, Hailey; and the family English Mastiff, Bandit.

Claire turned suddenly, “Grandma, I’ve been wanting to ask you about the room above the kitchen. Has anyone seen a woman standing …” She stopped in mid-sentence when the color washed from her grandma’s cheeks.

“Come, sit with me,” Virginia said, leading her to the old stuffed couch that faced the fireplace.

Claire sat beside her grandma. The faint scent of honeysuckle filled her nostrils. She had always found the smell of Grandma’s perfume to be pleasant. She

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had liked it so much as a child that she brought home a sprig of honeysuckle and planted it in the back yard. When Grandma heard about this, she took Claire by the hand and walked her through the garden.

“Just remember, dear … once the plant takes root you will never get rid of it. I wear honeysuckle as a reminder to your grandpa that he will never be rid of me.” Grandma’s chuckle, and the twinkle in her eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed. “It’s quite magical.”

Claire smiled at the fond memory, watching the flames leap from one log to the next.

Virginia took a deep breath, then sighed heavily. “As you know, this house has been in the family for centuries. There are many stories, many that have been passed down through the years… . However, I’m afraid that the woman in The View has remained a mystery to this day.”

“But others have seen her?”“Oh yes. Your father was the last, and that was

nearly forty years ago. The room only gets used on rare occasions, when we have a full house. I had hoped that this … Oh dear, had I known, I never would have put the children upstairs.”

“Have you ever seen her, Grandma?”

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“Oh no … but I dare say, it frightened the devil out of your father when he was a child.”

“Did she ever hurt anyone?”“Not that I’m aware of … Why do you ask, dear?”“Chelsea saw her last night, Grandma.” “So the story about the elf and Mitzy was not

another one of your sister’s tall tales?”“I’m afraid not.”“Oh dear … I had suspected as much …”“There’s something else up there, Grandma. This

morning after Chelsea had gone, I saw something … Not a woman, but a mist. A dark, gray mist. And it was very cold.”

“Oh my … your grandpa saw something similar when he was storing some trunks in the attic, shortly after we were married.”

“Did it frighten him?”“Oh yes, and to this day he has not spoken of it

since.”Why? Claire wondered. Why would her grandpa not

speak of it? “Do you think if I ask him …”“Oh no, dear, you mustn’t. When your father told

him about what he had seen, your grandpa told him point blank that he was never to speak of it again. With your grandpa’s weak heart, I think it better that we not bring up the subject.”

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“I understand. Will he be joining us for dinner?”Virginia patted Claire’s hand. “I’m afraid he’s not

feeling up to it today, dear. He’s saving his energy for Christmas dinner, but I’m sure he would love your company, providing that you don’t stay too long. He tires so easily these days.”

“I’ll go and see him after lunch.”“That would be nice, dear.” Virginia smiled and

kissed Claire’s forehead. “Oh, and don’t be surprised if he falls asleep in the middle of your conversation.”

“Naaamiii.” Chelsea’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Oh my, I’d nearly forgotten. I promised Chelsea and Taylor that they could help me with the decorations.” Virginia stood, and stared down at Claire. “Don’t worry too much about the goings on in The View, dear. Whatever is up there has never harmed a soul.” Virginia placed her hand on Claire’s shoulder. “None-the-less, I think it best that we make other sleeping arrangements for the two of you.”

“Chelsea can have my old room, Grandma. I’ll sleep upstairs.”

“Are you sure, dear?”“Yes, Grandma.“

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Virginia gave her granddaughter a knowing smile, and winked. “All right, dear.”

Claire’s eyes followed her grandma as she left the room. Grandma knew her like the back of her hand. If curiosity killed the cat, then they had best prepare for a wake, because Claire was even more determined than before to unravel the mystery of the strange occurrences in the room above the kitchen.

~CHAPTER THREE~

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Claire carried her bag up the winding steps to the second floor with a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and dread. On one hand, she wanted to know everything about the mysterious woman and the gray mist. On the other hand, the idea of coming face to face with the unknown scared the hell out of her.

A cool draft swept down the stairs. She hesitated for an instant before reaching the landing. Was she as brave as she would like to believe? Drawing a sharp breath, she turned the knob and entered The View.

As she had anticipated, the window stood ajar and the curtains fluttered as they had on the previous evening. A light dusting of snow covered the floorboards, extending from the base of the window, clear to the foot of the bed. A set of small footprints faced the window. They were narrow, and looked to be a woman’s size seven – the same size boot that she wore – the same size as Morgan’s.

If not for the gray mist that Claire had encountered earlier in the day, she would have easily thought his was one of Morgan’s pranks.

Setting her suitcase on the bed, Claire started across the room to close the window. She stopped abruptly, and stared at the pristine coating of white that was covering the floorboards. There were no

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footsteps leading up to the single set of prints in front of the window. With her curiosity spiked, she crossed the thin layer of snow and placed her boots inside the prints. Hers were a near perfect match.

“Who are you,” she whispered. A rush of wintry air, seemingly out of nowhere,

flapped the curtains and sent an icy finger along the length of her spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A voice hissed close to her ear, “Bethany.” It wasn’t a woman’s voice as Claire would have expected, but a man’s – deep and throaty.

Claire whirled around in a half circle. The room was empty. And dead calm.

It wasn’t a voice. It was the wind. Claire slammed the window shut, and started for the door. It was only the wind. It was only the wind. She chanted the words over, and over. But as she crossed the room at a driven pace and descended the stairs, she refused to look back.

* * * * * * * *Claire fidgeted with her dinner, eating very little.

As she replayed the events in her mind, she regretted that she had agreed to sleep alone in the room above the kitchen. Yet at the same time, her curiosity was

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piqued, and would not be satiated until she knew more.

Chelsea looked down at the heap of mashed potatoes and gravy on Claire’s plate. “Are you sick, Claire? You always finish your mashed potatoes.”

“I’m okay.”“No you’re not.” “I’m okay,” Claire said, forcing a smile. “I’m just

not hungry. I must have eaten too many of Nami’s cookies.”

Chelsea gave her a knowing look, then leaned in and whispered. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Nami wants me to sleep downstairs in your old room tonight, but if you’re scared I don’t mind sleeping upstairs with you.”

Claire smiled down at Chelsea. This time the smile was genuine. The child was quite astute for a seven-year old, and even more so than usual since they’d arrived at Evergreen. “I’m okay. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“But Mitzy wants to see the elf. Please, please ask Nami.”

After hearing the voice, Claire dreaded sleeping alone in The View, but there was no way she was going to expose Chelsea to such an encounter. The

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child was too young to be frightened and tormented by the haunting. Having seen the woman was one thing, but the mist and the voices were down right terrifying.

Of course, she could always sleep downstairs with Chelsea.

No! Claire drew a deep breath. She was too much like Grandma. She would stay the course and ride this thing out. If she surrendered so readily there would be no satisfying her curiosity. Besides, she believed that these types of entities fed on one’s fears. She would not let them feed on hers.

Virginia frowned, setting the peach pie on the table. She hadn’t missed a word of the conversation. Though it was Claire’s decision as to where Chelsea slept, in lieu of the recent activities she didn’t feel that it was wise for the child to be exposed to the goings-on in The View.

Claire caught her grandma’s look of disapproval. “Actually,” she said, turning to Chelsea, “I’m not feeling very well. I think it would be best if I slept alone. You wouldn’t want Mitzy to get sick now, would you?”

“Mitzy never gets sick.”“But you do,” Claire said.

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In all truth, Claire was feeling a bit ill. Her nerves were frazzled, and the excitement of the day had exhausted her. “How about a piece of Nami’s peach pie?”

* * * * * * * *Claire stared at the The View’s closed door.

Though she had raced from the room in a panic earlier, she would swear on her life that she had left the door wide open.

Turning the knob, she gingerly entered and flipped on the light switch. Unlike the evening before, the window was not standing ajar, nor was the room cold. Quite the contrary – it was warm and cozy.

Kicking off her shoes, she slipped out of her clothes and into her pajamas. She stared out across the yard. A sliver of moonlight beamed through a hole in the clouds, illuminating the frozen pond and the ice crystals on the boughs of the small stand of evergreens. It’s so beautiful here. How many, she wondered, had stood at this very same window over the past three centuries thinking the same thing?

How much had it change through the years? Had the pond always been there? Had the evergreens

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always stretched on for miles? Had young lovers wandered through the garden in the moonlight?

Claire laughed at her romanticism.Turning from the window, she climbed into bed,

switched off the light, and pulled the covers over her shoulders. Who was the woman? And who or what was the gray mist? Those were the last thoughts that crept into Claire’s mind before dropping into a deep slumber. Within minutes, she was dreaming.

It was a warm day. She was running through the forest over a trail of soft pine needles. A light drizzle fell through the trees, dampening her hair and dripping from the end of her nose. She looked over her shoulder to the tall, young man who was chasing her, and laughed.

Returning the laughter, he picked up his pace and called out to her, “Wait up, Bethany …”

Claire bolted upright in her bed. Her heart pounded. Her hair was damp, and beads of sweat rolled from her temples down the side of her cheek. She was visibly trembling.

It was so real. Thump. Thump. Thump.Clair listened to what resembled the drumming of

a dog’s tail against the floorboards.

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Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she squinted in the direction of the corner, where the sound was coming from. Beams of moonlight spilled through the window to the foot of the bed, shedding just enough light for her to see. To her horror, the empty rocking chair was beating a steady rhythm against the floor. Thump. Thump. Thump.

She gulped in a breath of air. The room was charged with electricity. Goosebumps covered her arms. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Without taking her eyes from the rocker, she slowly reached for the ceramic lamp on the bedside table. Fumbling in the semi-darkness, she knocked the lamp to the floor, cursing when it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.

An instant later, a dark cloud swallowed the moonlight. The room became blacker than charcoal. The thumping of the rocker stopped; the dead silence that followed was almost worse.

Claire peered into the darkness. A sliver of moonlight cast a shadow onto the floor, then vanished in a heartbeat.

On red alert, her eyes and ears tuned in to every movement and sound in the room. Breathing. Did she

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hear breathing? Or was it the wind whispering through the old chinking around the window?

The thought no sooner crossed her mind when heavy footsteps shot out of the blackness, crossing the room and stopping at the foot of the bed. Her first instinct was to flee, but her body would not respond to the command. She was paralyzed with fear. Her fingers tingled. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her cry of distress was no louder than a wheeze.

An arctic draft swooped across the bed like a bird taking flight – so cold, that if not for the pitch-blackness of the room, Claire’s breathe would have been visible. She shuddered as the iciness swirled around her, breathing down her back like a hideous, primal beast straight out of a horror film. Only this was real.

“Bethany…”The voice, so close to her ear, sent Claire into a

suffocating panic. Her chest tightened. Every intake of air was an effort.

“Stop it!” her mind screamed.“You’re mine, Bethany …” the voice hissed.

Possessive. Demanding. Frightening.A blast of frost whipped against her neck with the

force of a riding crop. “Bethany …”

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Claire gasped from the unexpected sting. Swallowing her fear, she found her courage and cried out. “I’m not Bethany!” It was barely a croak, but it was enough to send the wretched monster away.

Claire sighed with relief. The chill was gone and the room was flooded with moonlight. She trembled beneath the quilt, wondering if the footsteps and the voice had been real. Worse still, was she going mad? Had it merely been a figment of her imagination?

Claire stared into the darkness for several minutes. Climbing from the bed, she gingerly stepped around the broken shards then stumbled through the doorway. After she flipped on the light switch in the hall, she scurried down the stairs.

The clock on the stove glowed white. It was 4:36 a.m. – early enough for her to curl up on the sofa and catch a nap before Grandma awoke. But there was no way that she could fall back to sleep. Not now. Not in lieu of what had just happened.

Instead, she made a fresh pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table. Her mind reeled with a thousand different questions, a thousand different scenarios, always returning to that one single thought. Bethany.

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Claire returns to Evergreen with the intention of restoring the family estate. She discovers that the malevolent entity inhabiting the second story bedroom has been hiding a chilling secret. Even more disturbing is her eight-year-old sister's imaginary friend who communicates to her through her stuffed rabbit, Mitzy.

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A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

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writing, photography, and animals. ~ Terrie McClay

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