The Braid: A Short Story (2 page)

“Was there a woman hanging in the staircase?” Her question hung in the air between them.

“Why don't you tell me,” he said. He took a recorder from his pocket, checked the settings, and clicked it on. She wished she could take her question back, but it was already out there.

“Missy said she saw a woman hanging herself,” said Cambria. “That's why I locked her in her room.”

“Her parents found her hiding under her bed, too scared to say what happened,” he said. “It makes sense if you locked her in her room.” The man raised his eyebrows. “Do you think that was appropriate?” Cambria's mind stuttered.

“Um... not
locked
her in,” she said nervously. “I just held the knob so she couldn't get out.” That didn't sound right either.

“Did you see this woman hanging herself?” he asked.

Cambria remembered the twisted face staring at her through the high window again, beckoning to her. Had it been there the whole time, invisible to Cambria, hanging on the beam over the stair? Was that what made it creak on its own?

Above her, the florescent light flickered and the soft groan of wood filtered down to her. She knew there was nothing above her but a plastic light set flat into the ceiling. She tried to ignore the sound, but it grew, filling her ears, eclipsing everything else. A voice laughed in her ear, so quiet it was almost just breath. She finally looked slowly up and saw nothing but the florescent light inset into the ceiling as she expected. The man followed her gaze and then looked back down, watching her. Their eyes met.

“Do you see anything up there?” he asked. He watched her curiously. Cambria shook her head and forced a smile. His voice competed with the subtle noise above her, soft but insistent.

“Just a very bright light,” she said. She clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to cover her ears by gripping the mattress tightly. The man observed the stress lines fracturing across her forehead and said nothing. Her insurance was pathetic and they needed this room open for a more lucrative patient.

“Alright then. Let's talk about what you remember so we can get you home,” he said.

She just nodded, trying hard to hear only him.

The next morning, she was sitting in the same place, but in her own clothes, waiting for her mom to pick her up. As she sat, she fidgeted with the corner of the blanket, humming. A new constant, the sound of wood straining under weight, played overhead like a damaged violin. She knew it was audible only to her. When she was alone, she found herself swaying to the rhythmic creak—it lulled her with its consistency. She was still nervously wringing the blanket tighter and tighter in her hands when her mother arrived.

In the backseat of the car, Cambria gave a small shriek. In her hands was a small noose she had absently twisted from one of her mother's forgotten scarves. The noose lay in her lap, an antique-yellow and primrose-patterned threat to herself.

“What is it?” asked her surprised mom, concerned eyes staring back at her in the rearview mirror. Cambria gripped the seat on either side of her legs, willing herself to be calm. She couldn't let anyone know she was losing her grip.

“I thought... I saw a spider,” she said and forced herself to meet her mother's eyes. “It was just lint, I think. I'm just tired.” That part was true. Despite the constant, creaking lullaby, Cambria had found it impossible to sleep. She had lain for hours with her eyes closed, frozen on the green mattress, playing the part of the girl who was normal. A girl who didn't see a woman hanging herself, who didn't hear voices whispering to her. Her mom stared back at her, concerned, and noted the shadows ringing her daughter's eyes.

Tie the knot...

The next week went by around Cambria. She participated as she needed to, eating the food in front of her, showering, waking up, and going to bed at times dictated by the clock. So many voices directed her that she was getting them confused. Her mother's voice mingled with the whisperer, who was constantly there now. The cold breath in her ear often repeated what her mother was saying, causing Cambria to answer twice or misunderstand.

Sleep came in fitful hiccups between the creaks only she could hear and the whispered sing-song rhymes. Her mother's worried voice filtered through, saying things Cambria tried to answer but didn't understand.

“You know they moved out,” said her mother. Cambria blinked back to the present and was surprised to find herself sitting at the table, a half-eaten baked potato and pork chop in front of her. A piece of broccoli was left alone, drowning in a pool of unnaturally orange cheese sauce.

“Who?” asked Cambria, and she stabbed the broccoli with her fork and ate it.

Her mother looked at her and sighed.

“Have you not been listening?” she asked. “Missy's parents have put their house up for sale. They found out someone had died there before they moved in—said Missy talks all the time to an invisible friend and they feel it's unhealthy for her. I'm glad you got away.”

Over, under, around and through

tie the knot and I'll dance with you.

Cambria stared at her mom and wondered if there was such a thing as getting away. She took a bite of potato and tried to swallow.

“I think I might go to bed early if that's okay,” said Cambria. Her worried mother said nothing and just came around the table, kissed her daughter, and gave her a long hug.

Cambria barely felt the embrace. The voice at her ear whispered the same words over and over.

tie the knot... tie the knot and we'll dance...

Overhead, the ceiling creaked loudly but her mother didn't notice.

“I need to go lie down, please,” said Cambria. She stood up and walked away, swaying gently and humming a breathless tune. Her mom watched her go upstairs, sighed, and started clearing the table.

Hours later, toward midnight, Cambria was at the back door of Missy's house, too tired to wonder how she had wandered there. She walked through the unlocked door. The creaking of the house was all she could hear and it swayed like a ship in time with the sound. Cambria walked numbly through the dark house and up the stairs, not looking up at the wooden beam until she reached the top of the stairs and turned around.

The rope from her garage already waited in her hands. She had tied the knot perfectly, singing to herself. She'd been practicing with the song.

Over, under, around and through,

tie the knot and I'll dance with you.

Standing on the top step, she tossed one end over the beam that seemed made for such a purpose. She measured it and tied the other end off onto the sturdy railing. It swung gently, waiting for her, soothing in its offer of comfort.
Like rocking a baby...

The sing-song rhyme appeased her. She didn't feel the tears coursing down her cheeks, leaking from her sunken eyes and making them burn. She clambered up to plant her feet on the railing on either side of the stairs, standing suspended and spread-eagled in the empty air. Reaching up, she took the noose, her noose, into her hands and placed it around her neck. She was going to be okay. She was going to get some rest. She was going to dance.

She closed her eyes, feeling calm for the first time in what seemed her whole life, and stepped off into nothing. Her feet did a brief, spasmodic jig, and then she was still. Finally, Cambria was able to rest and she swung, gently, peacefully, until they found her the next day.

The house itself remained empty for years. Realtors were obligated to divulge the house's history to potential buyers. That, and the constant creaking, drove any interested parties away. The place was finally foreclosed on, falling into disrepair and sitting empty for nearly a decade. Finally, the house was repurchased by an investor, fixed up, and rented out. New families moved in, and the history of the house was forgotten, but not gone.

Years later, Sarah stood in the kitchen, listening. “Hey, midget, what are you up to?” She took the sandwiches she'd made and went looking for Amy, the girl she was babysitting. She found her, sitting at the top of the stairs, making faces.

“What on earth are you doing?” Sarah asked. She climbed the stairs, sat down next to the little girl, and offered her a sandwich. Amy took one off the plate and bit into it. “I'm like the woman with the braid,” she said with her mouth full. “She said she's going to teach you to tie knots.”

“What woman?” asked Sarah, taking another sandwich. Amy pointed up into the empty air above the stairwell and Sarah followed her gaze. “She's got her own song,” said Amy, and she sang it, rocking her head in time.

Over, under, around and through

tie the knot and I'll dance with you.

The ceiling was high enough to be slightly in shadow with a dark, wooden beam crossing over the stairwell for decoration. The beam creaked slightly as the house shifted and Sarah felt thick silence stuff itself into the empty rooms around them. She stared quietly up at the dark ceiling, chewing her sandwich thoughtfully. Dust trickled down, silhouetted against the large window, while the beam overhead creaked softly under the weight of nothing.

If you've enjoyed this story, you are invited to try other works by Angela Yuriko Smith which include full-length books, short story collections, novellas, and poetry. You can find updated information and free stories like this on her blog,
DandiFluff.com
.

Thanks go to Amy Eye from
theeyesforediting.com
for editing and formatting. SHE IS AWESOME!!!!! Contact her now and mention “The Braid” and get 20% off your next book formatting!

The cover design was created by Kyra Starr who can provide a wide range of graphic work from individual art images to fully formatted book covers suitable for paperback. Contact Kyra Starr at
[email protected]
.

Thanks also go to Peter Adam Salomon, author of the Bram Stoker Award nominated
All Those Broken Angels
and
Henry Franks
, for his pivotal input and critiques on this story. You can find books by Peter Salomon at
peteradamsalomon.com
.

Keep up with Angela Yuriko Smith at
AngelaYSmith.com
.