The figurines
Stacie Hernandez lived in a vintage house just off Oldham road in Northern Manchester.
She was a student studying law at the university of Manchester, and worked part-time jobs fluctuating between day and night shifts. She struggled to make ends meet and couldn't even afford a flat of her own.
Seeing her struggles, her parents offered to buy her a house which she gladly accepted. Few weeks later, the house had been bought and Stacie was invited to see the house for herself.
She was quite pleased with what she saw.
At first, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was a very old house, aged 50, the housing agent stated, but it had been recently renovated. The old chandeliers were replaced with working electric lights. A new shower had been fitted into the bathroom, the old rusty bathtub taken out, and the house had been freshly painted and furnished.
Though Stacie's parents had tried their best to make the house as comfortable as possible, there were some slightly worrying problems.
The plumbers had done a terrible job fixing the heating system. The radiators rarely worked, and Stacie was forced to manually shovel firewood into the large fireplace in the living room to keep the house warm. The old wooden floors creaked and groaned under her weight with every step she took. At night, the drainage pipes rattled, disturbing her already demented sleep.
However the only problem that seemed to trouble Stacie the most, were the figurines.
They were ballerinas. Three of them. Perched below the bottom shelf of an ancient ivory bookshelf that sat rather solidly by the TV stand. They were made from polished wax, and were performing a pirouette, their arms elegantly placed above their waists.
Stacie hated figurines. She could never understand why people liked them. To her, figurines were creepy little statues that looked like they were watching your every step, always awaiting your downfall.
One particular day, Stacie had come back home drained.
That day had been a terrible day. She had failed an assessment, got fired from one of her many menial jobs, and in an attempt to catch an incoming tram in order not to be late for lectures, she had forgotten to pay for her tram fare, and £120 was squeezed out of her bank account.
She was tired and restless, her eyes were rimmed with dark circles and her head throbbed.
And as usual, the radiators had stopped working.
Again.
To calm herself Stacie washed her face, hands and feet, changed into a nightie, and sat in the living room, on her rocking chair with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. The fireplace blazed Infront of her, and for a while, everything was quiet. Calm. Peaceful. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. They had specifically landed on the figurines on the ivory bookshelf.
Stacie blinked, wondering whether she had seen it wrong. But she hadn't. The figurines really had changed positions. They were not performing a pirouette anymore. They were now on tiptoes.
Stacie sat up and stared longer at the figurines. They were now facing her, their faces angled so that they were looking right at her.
Stacie wasn't having it.
She stood up, grabbed the figurines, and marched towards the bin.
She had had a bad day. She just wanted to pretend her life was normal.
She was not interested in any paranormal activities of any kind.
However in her blind fury, she had not noticed the hideous smile the ballerinas has plastered on their faces as she tossed them into the bin.
That night Stacie couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned on her bed every five minutes. The cold was unbearable. Her teeth chattered and her body shivered. The drainage pipes were not helping with their noisy rattling. She kept hearing noises. Creaking wood and scratching.
After 2 hours, Stacie gave up trying to sleep.
Upset, she grabbed a coat and a pair of boots and stormed her way downstairs to the kitchen.
She had decided that she'd just make herself a midnight snack, perhaps a cold glass of milk and some cookies would hopefully help her sleep.
As she prepared her snacks, she became dimly aware of the sudden quiet that fell upon the house.
The drainage pipes had stopped their rattling and the wooden floors had not creaked once since she stepped on them.
The house was eerily quiet.
Stacie however, did not seem to mind. She liked it actually. That way, she could finally sleep.
So she finished preparing her snacks and was off to the living room. She sat on the rocking chair and pretty much devoured her snacks in quick succession.
However, she still didn't feel sleepy.
In that case, she thought, I shall watch some TV shows instead. Why not?
So she reached out for the remote control on the centre table, then stopped.
No actually, she froze.
Because right there, standing on their tip toes on the centre table, were the same three figurines. In a perfect circle. Directly staring back at her.
Stacie felt her heartbeat quicken.
It can't be! She had tossed them away with her two hands! How did they get there!
How was this possible?!
Frustrated and steaming with desperate anger Stacie started at the figurines. But then stopped.
She thought very carefully about her situation. She was clearly being haunted by these figurines. No, just tossing them in the bin won't do. She had to get rid them somehow.
Make sure they never came back.
So she did what any sensible human being haunted by creepy figurines would do.
She built a fire in the fireplace, grabbed the figurines and tossed them in.
The fire cracked to life, glowing yellow and orange as it engulfed the figurines whole. The smell of melting wax filled the air making Stacie's nostrils burn. But she was happy, and after watching the last of the figurines melt away with great satisfaction, she yawned and trudged upstairs to sleep.
And she had slept peacefully that night.
The next morning, Stacie woke up feeling refreshed and energised. Her sleep might have been short, only for a few hours, but it was peaceful. Now her head felt clear, she was alert and calm. Sunlight spilled in from the windows and birds sang.
She felt so happy....so peaceful....so warm...
.....Warm?
Stacie's head suddenly jerked up in alarm. She sat up. It wasn't just warm. It was hot. The house was hot.
She swung her legs out of the bed and they landed on the floor.
She jerked them right back in alarm.
The floor was fiery hot as well!
What was happening?! The radiators were broken! She was going to call in a plumber to fix them....
Then the smell hit her.
The smell of burning.
Alarmed, she hurriedly put on a pair of flip flops. Her heart thudded loudly against her chest and her head throbbed.
She ran out and tried to make her way downstairs.
Then stopped. She coughed in shock.
Thick black smoke covered the entirety of Downstairs: the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. Part of the bottom stairs was invisible as smoke crept slowly but surely up the stairs. Orange and yellow flames licked through the building.
Stacie tried to believe what she was seeing.
Her house was on fire.
Suddenly, she choked on the smoke that was making its way up the stairs. Fire followed it, and the stench of burning wood filled the air.
Stacie's eyes watered. She choked and coughed repeatedly. She couldn't breathe. She had inhaled too much of the smoke. She was going to die.
She stormed up the stairs back to her room, and with shaky hands, dialled 999 on her phone.
Then she noticed the smell of burning wax.
"9919, What's your emergency?"
Stacie couldn't speak.
"Hello? Is the patient breathing? Can you hear me?"
Stacie fell to the ground. Her eyes wide in shock, her body shaking "No." She whispered, "No no no no no noooo!!"
"Hello? Is this a prank? If it is you will be prosecuted..."
Stacie's final screams echoed through out the burning building as neighbours called in the fire service.
Hours later, the fire had been put out. Yellow "do not cross" tapes surrounded Stacie Hernandez's house as the police tried to investigate the fire.Rescue teams searched for the victim's body among the ruins. Only the first floor of the building had survived the fire. Here the victim's body was found.
The rescue team stared at her confused.
There were no burns or serious wounds inflicted on the victim by the fire but she had died. She was sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide open, her jaw drooping as if she had died screaming. Blood trickled down her mouth, eyes, stomach and neck. Bits of her flesh were exposed in these areas.
What was most disturbing of all, was that right beside her, lay three half melted wax ballerina figurines. Stained with blood.
