Bloodstone Read online

  ‘Sorry, Mum. I put a pizza on, and I forgot all about tidying up. Somehow I dropped my glass too.’ I hung my head, a disproportionate level of guilt etched in my face.

  ‘That’s no surprise, sounds so like you. Clumsy. Oh, you’ve cut your finger, again…’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ My eyes drifted to the telltale plaster. ‘Sorry for the mess, Mum.’

  ‘Sorry means nothing if you don’t mean it. Make sure the kitchen’s pristine. Tidy up.’ Her sharp words sliced the air, like a bunch of unhinged staccato notes leaping about.

  I did what my mother asked—my face couldn’t compete with her level of scary. Besides, I knew there wasn’t another option. Inside, I was fuming. I pulled invisible faces, simmering at a low boil because of my mother’s relentless demands. Silently, I tidied up as fast as I could.

  When I finished, I crept upstairs to my bedroom, my refuge, where I could be who I wanted to be. I swore out loud. ‘Bloody hell!’ Mum drove me mad. I contemplated and breathed in the life displayed on the walls of my bedroom, searching for new energy. Each wall sang a tune to me, awash with colourful, inspiring art, and vibrant music posters glowed with rebellious, tattooed artists, sending me into a much-needed poetic reverie. Inspiration hit me, and I grabbed a pen and paper as the words flowed out of me like a song:

  If only time,

  Could drive away sorrow,

  Life’s caricature of pain,

  Time takes me journeying,

  Music fills my heart,

  Art enlivens my soul.

  I delved inside my camphor-wood chest, searching for my stash of the bits and bobs I kept hidden away from the prying eyes of my once good-looking, carefree and much-loved parents. Picking up my notebook, I wrote these words: Sometimes secrets reside amongst the jumble of life’s bric-à-brac.

  That became a poem…

  Someone’s special place,

  To hide their thoughts, feelings, fears,

  Sometimes secrets live,

  Stored deep amongst the jumble,

  Of life’s hidden bric-à-brac.

  That precious time seemed a lifetime ago, yet it had only been two years. How could that be?

  I shook myself from such thoughts as my gaze once again drifted to the interior of the chest. Inside were my crystal books, little stones, trinkets, a tattoo henna kit, and my drumsticks—all treasures I held dear. I placed the art set, a gift from my aunt, in amongst my precious things and closed the chest tight, longing to protect this part of my life from harm.

  Finished, I curled up on my bed in the peace of my room with Shadow. The cat purred and brushed my face with his whiskers. I rewarded his sweet purring with a pat. Shadow rolled on his back and exposed his tender belly for a tickle. I wanted to pick him up but remembered he didn’t like this. The last time I’d tried to hoist him into my arms, he’d fought against it. The strength in his tiny body surprised me. His muscles strained against me in such a powerful way, displaying a superhuman strength. Shadow belonged to me, but I sensed he had a past, and he took pleasure in telling me what he wanted. Black cats! They made the rules.

  I knew I had studying to do, so I picked up my history notes and read a couple of lines of text. I listened to music and sang along quietly, hoping that Mum wouldn’t bother me. The music sent me off to a blissful sleep, but I was disturbed by a presence peering in from my doorway. I wasn’t sure if I had been in the midst of a dream or not until I heard the unmistakable sound of Mum’s voice.

  ‘Amelina, you’re sleeping when you should be studying.’ Her voice grated on my nerves, challenging me to answer. Shadow curled into a tight ball. His nose tucked under his paws revelling in upping his game, taking his living arrangements to a new level—hiding. He stirred, braved a peek from one eye, and then hid under his paws again.

  ‘I’m studying,’ I said, replying to Mum’s challenge, wishing I could conceal my lies. My response fired her up even more. She launched into a full-scale tantrum.

  ‘Amelina! Stop your fibbing! Perhaps you’re under the influence of bad, undisciplined people. Why do you have to have all those wild posters everywhere?’

  Those last words hit the spot; they jolted me past the edge of endurance. I tumbled over the precipice of war. I couldn’t stand it when Mum had a go at my music. I felt anger bubbling up in me. My unspoken words, You’re Dead to Me, GET OUT, held in my heart for a brief second, two angry messages bursting for release. ‘Mum! Stop it! You say that every time you come in my room.’

  ‘Don’t Mum me! Cheeky madam! You know I can’t stand them, and goodness knows how you can study or fall asleep with all those tattooed, ugly rock stars staring down at you. It would give me nightmares.’

  I stared at her for a moment, and she glared back at me like the crazed character of a permanent nightmare. She reminded me of the ugly sisters in Cinderella, jealous and prone to a vicious temper. I felt a bizarre hysterical laughter bursting in my chest, longing to escape.

  ‘You’re the ugly one.’ I clapped my hand over my mouth. I had shouted at Mum, and now I regretted it. An image popped into my head of her as she appeared every day. I could see her with her hair peeled back from her scalp in a tight bun, not a strand of hair escaping or out of place. The sight of her wearing the same dark grey suits with crisp white blouses that blended into her pallor flashed before my eyes. I cringed at that drowned, victim look she wore so well.

  ‘What did you say?’ she screamed, and her face contorted into an ugly expression of anger that set my nerves on edge.

  ‘You heard me. Nothing, Mum.’ I retreated into a defence mode, and I curled into a protective ball, hoping she couldn’t see me. Shadow did the same, but he didn’t hide his intention. He curled his sleek body into such a tight ball that he resembled a sleeping stone. I knew I had few options. If I continued to talk back, the result would be a firecracker of a row, and I just had no energy to do that today. My shoulders slumped.

  ‘That’s enough, Amelina. I swear your behaviour will drive me to ruin, first your father and now you.’ Mum’s sharp voice cut me like a knife.

  I sighed and braced myself because I knew what to expect next. Mum could be theatrical at times. She glowered, turned on her heel, and stomped off, sending the floorboards into crisis mode.

  I wanted to shroud myself in my covers to escape from my mother’s constant criticism, but that wasn’t possible. Instead, I gulped down my ugly laughter and said nothing. My mum wasn’t a total ogre; she behaved this way for a reason. I needed to remember that, but sometimes I struggled. Sometimes I looked at her and saw someone I didn’t recognise or like.

  A jangled sense of irritation arose in me. A heady hormone mix surged through me, creating a hot cauldron of suppressed, choked down words and emotions. A regurgitation of sorrow threatened to spill from my guts. I longed to restore my family’s former happiness. To cure the curse that seemed to swallow our family whole. But how could I? I rubbed my eyes and stretched, wondering if the answer would come if only I could unlock past events. Now, I had to seize the opportunity to investigate the Crystal Cottage.

  Puzzle Piece 11:

  The Teasing Dream

  A teasing dream, dreams,

  You can’t forget its message,

  It tickles you so,

  You wake up longing for bright,

  Magical crystal delight.

  The evening descended, and darkness filled my room. I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, but the stagnant, dead air in the house tightened around my neck choking me. I slipped out of bed and opened a window. It made no difference. Feeling anxious, I noticed a deep sensation of dread forcing its way into my soul.

  I often heard strange grumbling voices and laboured breathing coming from the walls of our silent house, speaking in unison, ‘Cursed house, dreadful misfortune.’ Tonight, no difference awaited me. Those weird sounds seemed to reverberate from the cramped attic room at the top of the house, right down to the ground floor. The hexagonal hallway grumbled as I heard six whisper
ed voices that unified into one loud, persistent groan that amplified, filling the hall with the same repeated words.

  I wrestled with alternating tiredness and wakefulness, pushing the sounds away; I fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed. A vision formed and I could see the pathway ahead lay deserted, not a soul in sight. The dead of night beckoned, and an eerie silence magnified every rustle and quadrupled every whisper in the breeze. The gentle sound of trickling water soothed my disturbed senses, but I couldn’t find the source. I fought a strange feeling that someone followed me. Yet, when I glanced over my shoulder, no one seemed to be there. No footprints, no churned-up earth, nothing. I walked faster, but my steps lagged, like a clock pendulum moving back and forth on a predetermined journey, yet moving in slow motion.

  As my dream continued, the whispering winds grew louder. I forced myself to turn around and confront my growing fear. I saw the shadow of a man, and he was following me. Disconcerted, I tried to run and stumbled as if this shadowy man’s long limbs were reaching forward to trip me up. Just when I couldn’t take another step, the winds stopped. The shadow revealed itself in a flash of light and vanished. My eyes blinked, captivated by blue-black hair, but I couldn’t see his face. I stood transfixed by a bright light followed by an immediate darkness.

  With the shadow’s departure, the deep-rooted sadness trapped within my soul subsided. The dream seemed so real I felt expansive breaths of liberating air fill my lungs. I walked forward with the image before me that I’d walked this path many times before. I felt the muscles in my face relax; my jaw slackened, and my eyes softened. I lifted my outstretched arms and took slow, deliberate steps.

  I sensed a change in the dream when a strange creature appeared. His body and features fused together with rotten flesh, matted mud, skin, and protruding bones. The creature did not speak. His silent presence terrified me, and I shivered.

  The beast stood motionless and pointed a bony finger at the ground. Fear clenched at my heart. A flood of messages bombarded my brain. Warning signals went off, suggesting a multitude of horrible intentions that the creature may have had in store for me.

  A tremor shook my body, and my teeth chattered. My ears rang with the sound of the earth cracking below my feet. It meant that I had left it too late to run. My eyes fell downwards as the world tilted on its axis, and the realisation came to me that the only way out was via a slide that suddenly appeared at my feet.

  With one glance, I could tell the slide had a definite beginning but no visible end. I placed a tentative step onto the slide. The minute I touched it, I knew there was no time for fear. I swallowed hard and plunged into the darkness, sliding into oblivion. Every emotion I possessed had compressed into mere seconds—a momentary adrenalin rush. Sensations continued like the aftermath of the wildest rollercoaster ride. Fuelled by fear, it sent my senses reeling, the ultimate blood-pounding, stomach-churning thrill.

  I slipped down the slide and landed on a stone floor, yet it cushioned my landing like a silky feather down quilt. No longer afraid of the shadows, I felt welcomed, at home. With wide-eyed astonishment, I took in the magnificent interior of the Crystal Cottage. Gems in a myriad of welcoming shades—purple Amethyst, white Quartz, red Jade, blue Topaz—covered the walls. A riot of colours reflected in the facets of the crystals, which welcomed me with their brightness. This magnificent display promised more, luminous lights twinkled and burst forth from each separate gem in a firework-like extravaganza. I gasped. My breath caught in my throat, and I glanced down at my hands. They were sparkling as if they had touched an enormous glitter ball. A crystalline light bounced off the walls of the cottage, finding a resting place on my face. The brilliant light caressed me.

  My heart filled with wonder at this miraculous event and I wished the exquisiteness of the moment would last forever. I willed this spectacle to carry on and on, but the glowing display tapered off. The colours became darker, and glimmers of the crystals’ bright lights darkened to a menacing black, then lightened to a grey, washed-out colour before turning a muddy brown.

  In horror, I could feel the skin on my face puckering like an orange peel stripped of all moisture. My body shivered, and I shook. I stirred in my sleep, suspended in the haze of the dream. I struggled to remain, not wanting to leave the beauty and comfort of the Crystal Cottage. So I remained, floating in the abyss, fearful but longing to find out more.

  In my dreamy state, I lifted my head and looked up. All I could see was the strange creature a short distance above me, standing as if he waited, but for what I could not tell. He held a ladder—two long ropes connected by short crosspieces made of skin and bones—which he dangled down. I grimaced, but with no other choice open, I reached out and latched onto the gruesome ladder device. The creature hoisted me out, and we stood side by side, motionless for a second. We exchanged no words. Once again, I felt the ground beneath my feet shudder and crack wide open into a large gash of exploding brown earth. I stepped back, afraid of the black void looming in front of me. I shrieked as I observed the creature as he plummeted into the depths of the earth, the whole time reaching his arms out towards me as he fell.

  The image of the cottage grew distant, swallowed in its entirety; each stone, pillar, and column disappeared from sight. It continued to spiral until it became a tiny speck of inconsequential dust. An unnatural silence descended around me. A great rumbling shook the earth, and the mound of unsettled earth closed shut. The creature and the cottage had disappeared. No signs remained that they had ever been there.

  My heart fluttered like a caged bird. A brooding sense of darkness enveloped me, and a curtain of melancholy fell over me. My body shifted as I stirred. I opened my heavy eyes. The dream had ended, and reality clawed its way in.

  I lifted my heavy head, punched my pillows, and sat up. It had felt so real. The cottage had been within my grasp, but now it had gone. My disappointment was tangible. I’d had a glimpse of the magic within the cottage, but now that wonder had vanished. I couldn’t believe this strange episode had presented a reality so cruel, a dream that had teased me with its beauty but had shattered me with its truth. I shrunk down into my twisted sheets, sobbing, resuming my daily existence, a living nightmare with no escape.

  Puzzle Piece 12:

  Esme Talks To Me

  Think you know someone,

  No, you don’t know anyone,

  We’re all cheerleaders,

  Carrying our false pompoms,

  The mirror captures our truth.

  After the strange dream, I felt drained and at a total loss as to what I should do next. I slipped out of bed and observed myself in the mirror. Purple shadows lined the skin beneath my eyes. My disturbed sleep had made my face appear old, like Mum.

  Esme edged forward in the mirror. She frowned. ‘You look awful, Amelina.’

  ‘Thanks, Esme.’ I rubbed my eyes.

  ‘Sorry, but you do. Are you okay?’

  ‘Nope. I had a nightmare. I met a strange, creepy creature who scared me to death. I don’t know how for sure, but that thing helped me reach the cottage.’

  ‘Oh, now you are having nightmares too. Poor you! Tell me more.’ Esme peered through the glass, standing up on tiptoes. Her eyes gleamed with a morbid curiosity as if we were chatting about some sinister TV drama.

  I didn’t want to talk about it. So, instead, I played it down, saying, ‘As you know, the Crystal Cottage invited me to visit.’

  ‘You must go,’ said Esme, stretching to her full height to give weight to her words. ‘It’s a sign—dreams often are.’

  ‘Maybe. I dreamt I had set foot within the cottage, but it was just a dream, and I still haven’t found it in real life. I so badly want to escape, though. This house imprisons everyone, not just you, Esme.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but it’s worse being inside this glass, believe me.’ Esme pointed at herself, and I watched as her face fell, inch by inch, a chilling avalanche of sadness.

  ‘Yeah, it must be,’ I said, feeling guilty.
r />   ‘That’s okay. It sucks for us all. I’m locked in a mirror, and you’re locked in a time you don’t want to be in.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You hate your present and want to be part of your past once again.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I replied, observing her curiously. I mulled over the fact that this Esme was much deeper than the girl I remembered. I realised that glass imprisoned her and her thoughts too.

  I turned from the mirror. It was time to get organised, but I didn’t feel like moving. My coat, bag, and school uniform lay dumped in a confused heap on the floor. A trail of several days’ rubbish extended across my room in a chaotic but familiar pattern. My mum would be cross if I didn’t tidy up, but I had more important things to do—like sleeping. I yawned and stretched, not willing to face the day ahead.

  I’d made my decision, and back to bed I crawled, shrouding myself in sleepiness. I willed the covers to hide me for a few hours more before Mum would discover me and yank me out of my warm bed. Shadow joined me, purring his approval of my decision.

  No such luck today, though. I heard Mum’s footsteps as she entered my room. I sighed. She didn’t even bother to knock. Typical. Shadow raised his head, his whiskers twitching their disapproval at her untimely arrival.

  ‘Amelina, your bedroom’s a full-scale health hazard in here.’

  I glanced up and caught sight of Esme smirking at me from the mirror. I wanted to give her an almighty smack. ‘I’ll tidy up, Mum.’ I gave her my word as I stood glaring at Esme.

  ‘You sound like an actress delivering a well-rehearsed script, and who are you glaring at young lady? It better not be me!’

  ‘Of course not...’

  ‘You better tidy up. But before you do, I have something to say. What’s this I hear about you going down the river pathway? How could you?’