Emile: Part 1
When I turnend seven, I moved too a house in a small quient town with my mother. Mother had told me there weren't alot of kids around so I would have to play by myself. I didnt mind really, I never had much friends and my brothers had alreayd moved out a year prior. Thats where I met Emile and this whole, disgusting mess began. With my seven year old in brain I had been excited, fianlly moving out of our one bedroom basement suit and into a large two story house. I berifly remeber my mother telling me things like 'its got lots of history!' or ' its over a 100 years old.'. These little details only incressed my eupohria, besides the fact I was going to get the biggest room. All to myself. It didn't take long for us too get the few boxs of things we owned into the house.
My mother brought me too the large room that was too be mine. The room had seemed far too large for a seven year old to live in given with my small bed it left extreamly large space to play in. More space then me and all my toys put together could cover. The room had three closets, one for hanging dresses and fromal clothes. One full of shelves. And one,which had pretty door handle with white flowers on it, that my mother told me never to open or play near. She had made me promise. Confused I had agreed. With a sigh she opened that closet proveing to me that the reason she didnt want me to play near it because it dropped down too the basment, two floors down. I was fasinated with the door that dropped into the black abyse. It was straight down, like it wasn't really suppose to be a closet. The door was closed and the wonder of the trap closet fled my mind as we began too put away my clothing and toys.
When my room was finished my mother left me to myself. Exzamining the room again, i stared at the two closets I had been allowed to open each had a mirror on it. Laying in my bed the mirrors allowed me too see myself, the whole room. And most intresting, the trap closet was always in view. I didn't pay much mind too it and began just playing with my toys.
The frist weeks in the new house was rather uneventful, just me and mom falling into the rution. Getting up ,getting ready, haveing breakfast to go to day-care on tusdays, thursdays and occasionally on starurday. While all other days I went to the small school that was oddy open only three times a week. Though, three or four weeks after we moved in, things of mine began to be misplaced, moved and not where I had left them. My barbies would be left on the floor instead of inside my toy box. As if someone had been playing with them. Of course when I complained to my mother that she needed to stop playing with my toys without my permison. She'd just laugh and brush it off as some childish rambeling, promiseing jokingly that she'd remember next time. Its almost humorus when I think back now.
Though the strange occuranced didnt stop there. Durning the night, when my mother had tucked me into be and turned on my nightlight that shone stars onto the ceiling leaving me alone. The room would become suddenly cold, and I'd have to curl up wrapped up tightly in my caccon of blankets. And strangely enough, I could never sleep; without my back pressed against the wall and eyes fixated on the trap closet across my room. I'd stare at that door for hours untill my eyes fell closed unable to stay pulled up by the weary eyelid mucelses. This was the part I hated about the house, the next morning when I had woken up, the trap closet door was always wide open. Sitting, back facing me was a girl about my age, humming. The frist few times it happened I screamed for my mom, pleading for her too come save me. But without fail the girl would hope down into the blackness before my mom to run into the room and slam the door shut consoling me. Though after a while I began too just watch the girl, who'd sit for about ten minuets humming before hoping down into the darkness. After about a week of watching the mystorius girl who'd appear in my room I mustered up my curoage too speak too her.
"W-Whats your name?" I'd called voice shaking lightly in fear. Her humming as stopped as she lifted her head slightly and was silent for many seconds before she answered me.
"My names Emile. Whats your name?" She whispered before she looked over her shoulder slightly allowing me to see her face for the first time. Her eyes were baby blue and her skin was pale. Her blond hair was soaked, like her clothing driping water onto the hardwood floor. Pieces of her blond hair stuck to her face as she smiled at me. Her smile eased my fear as I swung my feet of the bed and stood up.
"My names Mary" I had told her as she stood up walking over too me. I felt mildly uneasy as she did but dismissed the felling as being childish. And i would not stand to seen as childish. Emile, had stood about a inch taller then me, we had talked, and played barbies for hours before she told my mom was coming to check on me and she had to go away. I didnt want her too go but she left by jumping down the trap closet and the door closed behind her.
Emile began to play with me more often after that. She would wait for me to come home whenever I had left. Playing with my barbies and leaving wet marks on my blankets. Mom had stared acussing me of wetting the bed though I insisted it was just from Emile waiting for me to come home. But being a sensable adult she'd tell me I was too old for imagenary friends, seeing I was about to start second grade soon. It was clear too me mom didnt believe me when I told her about the things me and Emile did, or the games we'd played. My mother would tell me to grow up. When I would come back to my room, Frustared and annoyed about my mothers inablity too see my new friend. Emile would say it was because adults were stupid, and thats why she told me I was childish. Emile also told me she didnt like my mom. And soon after that , Emile told me she didnt want me too talk to my mom anymore. When I asked her why she simply said:
"Just please! Don't talk with her anymore. I'm your my best friend, right?"
Her voice scared me, it was cold. Unlike the fun, childlike giggles she normally had when we talked. All I could do was nod in fear, hands shaking, hair standing up on the back of my neck. She smiled at me after that and we returned to playing. From that moment on, I didn't talk to my mom. Not a singal word was spoken too the woman. She began too worry, and constantly told me that if I was mad at her about somthing, whatever it was, she was sorry. I felt bad for not talking too her, but, the fear I had when Emile had told me too not speak stayed buried deep in my heart. Soon Emile had another request. A request that would change my life, forever.
