Leona Charles: The Darkness

It's taken me a while, and a lot of banging on doors, but I finally managed to speak to Geraldine. This last week has been stressful. After the addition to the list of writers in Freya's notebook, I didn't do any more research. The folder is there, and I haven't yet decided if I'll give it back to Freya. I wanted to do the research, to finish the work, but I think about Mum and all those other writers, about Freya's dad. There's something bad here. I have to know what it is, but I don't know how to.

For a start, it would help to remember when I lived here. I know I didn't live here for long, but something clearly happened to make mum take me away. Even after that weird train journey, I still don't remember anything more than my tantrum at the train station, and Mum taking me to Geraldine.

After knocking Geraldine's door for what felt like the hundredth time and trying to search for some sort of a phone number, my last resort was to send her a letter. I sat and thought carefully about what I wanted to say, and eventually put this note through her door.

Geraldine,

I am writing for your help. My mum died while trying to write a book about Silent Falls. I tried to finish it, but no one will help me. I can't remember anything. I know you helped me and my mum before. Please help me again.

Leona

I stood outside her door for a few minutes after posting it through the letterbox, as though I expected the door to fly open and for her to welcome me with open arms. Of course nothing happened. I doubted that I would hear anything from her.

It wasn't until late the next night that she knocked on my door. I was ready for bed, armed with my headphones and book, anything to make myself forget where I am. I got a fright when I heard the knock at the door and I wondered if this is how everyone here feels.

I peered through the peep-hole, and there stood Geraldine, this time wearing a thick navy blue dress and grey cardigan, her hair scraped back the same as it had been the one time I saw her before. I opened the door, unsure what to expect.

There was no “Hello,” or introduction of any sort.

We both stood in silence for a moment, when finally Geraldine spoke. “You are so like your mother.” There was no compliment in her voice, just complete judgement, as she stepped into the little flat looking around her. She continued to talk as she made her way to the living room. “She didn't listen either.”

I followed her to the living room, where she sat herself down on the couch.

“Tea?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable.

Geraldine shook her head dismissively. “She should have warned you to stay away from here.”

I sat at the other end of the couch, careful to leave a space between us. “How much do you remember?” Geraldine asked.

“Not much,” I said, thinking hard. “I had a tantrum when my mum tried to take me away, and then she took me to see you. I had an imaginary friend... of some sort.”

“Imaginary,” Geraldine scoffed. “Very real. Very dangerous.”

I tried my hardest to picture the woman who would visit me, but her image couldn't come to mind.

“Do you know your father?”

I shook my head. I had no father.

“He was the reason your mother came here,” Geraldine began. “They'd met on holiday, I think. Whirlwind romance. They kept in touch when they both returned home. When your mother found out she was pregnant, he asked her to come and live with him. Here.” Geraldine didn't look at me as she continued her story, staring down at the carpet. “I didn't know him, but they moved into the flat next door to me. Everything seemed to be going well. Your dad was working in the supermarket, your mum was helping at the school. She was about eight months gone when your dad disappeared.”

“He ran away?” I asked.

“No,” she replied, rubbing at her temples. “At least I don't think so. Your mum thought he had, but it was just so odd. He went out to work one morning, and didn't turn up. Never came back home either. But he didn't take a single thing. His bank card was on the kitchen table, and not a penny was taken from the account, even weeks later. He didn't take any clothes, other than his work uniform, not even a jacket. He had nothing. Your mum reported it to the police, and there was no sightings. No one had saw him leave the house, or wandering around town. Although, you can probably tell... people here tend to mind their own business. He didn't have any family, his parents were dead. The few friends he had around here had heard nothing from him.”

“What could have happened to him?”

Geraldine shrugged, turning to look at me. “There's a lot of things that could happen to him here. But I don't know. Your mum didn't have anyone else.” She stopped, taking a long sigh. “I took her under my wing. When you were born, you both seemed so vulnerable.” She gave me a small smile. “I never had children of my own, and you looked so perfect. I thought that this place would ruin you. I tried to convince your mum to take you away when you were just a few weeks old, but she didn't have anywhere to go. You were about two, when you started to talk to the woman in your bedroom. Your mum thought that she was just an imaginary friend, but I knew it was more than that. You were changing. You were always so bright and happy, and so perfect. But day by day, I started to see the change in you. You would feel sad when you weren't in your bedroom, you told odd stories... about murders and other ghastly things. She was changing you.”

Sitting across from Geraldine, I tried to imagine myself at that age, slowly turning into this dark, disturbed little child.

“Eventually,” she went on, “You mum realised it wasn't right. You were telling her things that you couldn't possibly know. There was an odd feeling in the house, you weren't alone there. Things would move. There were always noises at night. Your mum thought that someone was trying to kill her. But you wouldn't leave. Whatever had you here, was determined that it was keeping you.”

“Why can't I remember anything?” I asked.

“I took the memories away, along with whatever darkness was left in you.”

“How?”

Geraldine sighed and reached into the pocket of her cardigan. She pulled out a green coloured stone. “I'd asked your mum when you were born if I could bless you. I kind of christening. She didn't want to. She never liked my spells, and I respected that. But it got so bad, you were getting so dangerous...” She looked down at the little stone. It didn't look like anything special. I wondered if it had been some sort of mind trick. “I can give you back the memories, but the darkness will come with them.”

I nodded, reluctantly agreeing to whatever it was she was about to do. “Sit there,” she gestured towards the floor. I obediently sat down cross legged, looking up at her. She handed me the stone. It was cool in my hand. “Close your eyes.”

I obeyed. Everything was silent around me. The only sound was Geraldine breathing. A warm finger pressed the centre of my forehead. “Tell me your full name.”

“Leona Charles.”

“Tell me your age.”

“Twenty three.”

“Picture yourself in a safe place.”

I tried not to giggle at the cheesey questions as I pictured myself in my bedroom at home. The walls were a pale lilac colour, the bedding dark purple. The bedside table held a photo of me and mum on my first day of school, all smiles. Beside me on the bed there sat Georgie, the worn out pink teddy I'd had since I was born.

“Are you alone there?” Geraldine asked. I gripped the stone.

“Yes.”

“Try to stay there,” she instructed. “Hold tight onto that memory, take in the smells, the sounds, the feelings.”

I stayed with the memory, remembering how squishy Georgie was, how the sun shone through the little square window, casting the square of light onto the middle of my wooden floor. I could smell Mum's bolognese wafting up from the kitchen. I was comfortable, happy and safe.

I felt an ice cold chill enter my body. I was freezing. Geraldine's voice was fading as she told me, “Stay there, stay in your safe place!”

I was looking at the bright square of sun on my bedroom floor. If I could stand there, perhaps I would feel warm. As soon as I had this thought, the light was disappearing. My room got darker, and colder. The smell of Mum's cooking was gone. I couldn't see anything. Just darkness.

“Leona.” Geraldine's voice was clear now, as I opened my eyes, looking up at her on the couch.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I think so,” I said, feeling light headed, and still cold.

“Let me see the stone.”

I had forgotten about the stone in my hand. I handed it over to her. It was white now. She examined it carefully, and looked back at me. “It is done. If you want me to undo it, I can try, but it will cling even harder to you now, knowing it's been taken away before.”

I nodded again, standing up on weak legs. Geraldine reached out to take my hand as I wobbled. She was so warm. “I'm going to go now. If you need me, let me know and I will come. But I will not allow that darkness to enter my home. Not again.”

She let herself out the door, leaving me alone in the flat. I was wide awake now, my stomach fluttering. I looked at the clock. It was eleven. She'd been here an hour. It felt like I had imagined the whole thing. I didn't feel ready for bed now, and I found myself watching some old Disney films on the couch, wrapped up in my blanket, struggling to get warm.

It was halfway through Snow White that I started to nod off. It didn't even bother me that I wasn't in bed. The music sounded quiet as I was drifting into sleep, when I felt the cold air beside me. Someone was sitting on the couch, I realised, afraid to open my eyes. An ice cold hand reached for mine, as a familiar voice whispered in my ear. “Leona, my darling. How I've missed you.”