Mornings with a Distorted Woman

Never had my father done this before. Never had I thought I would have to do this, ever. But here I was laying in a bed that I never knew existed in a room that I never saw before.

I had been to my mé merè ’s house plenty of times in the past. Not that I ever really enjoyed it. But I wasn’t the average girl. I didn’t really like Barbie or any of the girly games. I was more apt to exploring the garden to see what sea glass or shells had been recently added. I loved to get lost in the maze of the garden, picking up the most uniquely colored sea glass and sticking them safely in my pocket so that I could bring them home.

Yet, here I was, tucked tightly under the covers of a frilly, Victorian styles bed surrounded by twenty porcelain dolls staring at me as I laid there. I tried to count the seconds that passed wishing that I could be let out of this pink prison. Listening to the silence that had devouring the whole house.

“What are you doing? Why are you here?” An angry voice hissed at me as I searched for where it came from. But there was no one there. “Get out,” it hissed again, sounding closer and louder.

I followed the direction of where the voice emanated, looking for the source of what I had heard.

There standing no more than five feet from the bed stood a woman that I had never seen before. Her body twisted in distorted ways. Her hand boney and white curled into her body as her fingers were warped into unnatural positions. Her hair was untidy, sticking out in every which way, and was turning an ashy grey color.

Her face was so old and pained, as if all the distortions of her body were causing severe discomfort. Yet, she looked so angry at me. But I had not done anything to hurt her, or even bother her. “I said get out. What are you doing here? You are nothing and never will be anything in this world. So leave.” She limped toward me as if to try and chase me away.

As I looked down at the floor I saw one of her feet was turned completely sideways. She had been walking on her ankle. Her foot was discolored and twisted towards her other foot.

My heart started to race more any more as she got closer to me. I didn’t know what to do. Do I run, try to find my father or my mé merè ? I couldn’t, this woman was blocking the only exit out of the room. The only thing I could do was stay right where I was, hope that this woman didn’t hurt me.

I got hold of an awful smell, like decay, as she got closer and closer. It was overbearing. However, I couldn’t even gag off the smell due to how scared I was. She was only know a foot away from me. I closed my eyes waiting for what was to come. Yet, nothing did.

I opened my eyes to find that once again I was alone in the room being stared at by all the porcelain dolls.

I began to think that I had just dreamt the whole incident. That it was one big bad dream that I had just woken up to. My heart was racing still and I was shaking. However, one thing that I couldn’t understand was how I had smelled the scent of decay as she got closer. I never thought that I could smell anything in my dreams. You aren’t supposed to feel anything, so why should I be able to smell anything? So maybe I was awake for the encounter with the distorted woman.

When everyone else got out of bed a few hours later, I quickly rushed out of the room. Trying to not to ever have to go back in there again.

All I know now is that I am afraid of that room. I refuse to sleep at my mé merè ’s house anymore. That was the first and last time I had ever slept there again. I have never told my father nor anyone about my experience in that room.

And for the woman, if she was a spirit, I hope she finally gets her rest.