Page 20 of Whisper of Nightmares

Thud-thud.

But the beast draws nearer. And who knows how much the figure behind it has advanced.

Injuries be damned, Euphemia scrambles to her feet. She does not look back. Her gaze is fixed ahead on the back door now in sight, the wood aglow in the softest shades of flickering lavender.

She can make it.

Just three more strides.

And then she’ll be safe inside⁠—

But how long will that safety last? How long before the beast is no longer thwarted by walls?

The thought is more like a single stone thrown into the avalanche that is her mind. And under the pressure of survival, it is soon lost among the other boulders of panic and self-preservation. Euphemia throws herself at the door. She yanks the doorknob in every direction.

The door will not budge.

Through the crack, she can see it, the latch bolted on the other side.

Euphemia pounds on the wood.

“Let me inside! Please!” she screams, knowing it’ll disturb the patrons and upset her mother. But surely, her mother will understand. Surely, she wouldn’t want her daughter to die the same way her husband had.

Pounding on the door, at the mercy of her family, Euphemia realizes this could be the end. This could be her final moment.

She has to know. Needs to see how much time she has left, how much hope she can afford to hold onto. Euphemia dares another look at the nightmare. Slowly, it ambles toward her, a swampish thing of drooping flames and languid movements. Behind it, their apple tree goes up in flames, and it’s then that she finally breaks. Years of memories. Their family’s legacy. Their means of taking care of themselves. Gone. Ablaze in an instant.

She stops pounding on the door.

Stops crying out for help.

This is yet again all Euphemia’s fault. She did this—she’s always doing this. Ruining everything. Making it more difficult for her mother. For her sisters.

Euphemia can’t even look at the nightmare any longer. Can’t be bothered to search for the mysterious figure.

For all she cares, neither of them exist.

Leaning back, she just looks up to the night sky and prays to the God who seems to never listen. “Keep them safe. Please. They don’t deserve—they don’t deserve to be punished for my weaknesses.”

Euphemia closes her eyes and accepts her grim fate.

Maybe she’ll see her father again, if God is kind enough.

Only, it is not God who saves her.

The door suddenly swings opens. Euphemia tumbles inside, breathless and sobbing. She plops on the ground, dazed and confused. It’s a strange sensation, coming back from a death that she believed certain, and so it takes her a moment to remember where she is. What’s important. Where the danger remains lurking outside.

Ismene stands over her, her head cocked, and the door wide open behind her.

Euphemia lunges to her feet. She slams the door shut, slamming her back against it for good measure.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ismene asks, peering behind her as if she can see through solid wood. Since she can’t, her imagination runs wild, her expression lifting with excitement. “Is it a wolf?”

Panting, Euphemia merely says, “No.”

“I want to see it. I’ve never seen a wolf before.”

Her younger sister starts clawing at her to move and Euphemia is too frazzled to be gentle. She grabs Ismene roughly by the shoulders, kneels down, and stares into her eyes. “You are not to go out there ever again. Do you understand me?”