Alone- Tales of the loneliest people

Alone

12:45pm

Clara rubbed her eyes. The same time stared back at her from the clock on her dresser. Shit, she thought. I’ve been sleeping for longer and longer these days. Clara turned to the other side of the bed, a question on her lips. Then she remembered. The weight of her loss weighed down on her, all other thoughts blowing away like ashes. She sighed and looked at the urn on her husband’s side of the bed. I should really scatter his ashes. He wouldn’t be happy to know that I’ve left him on the bed. He’d probably be worried about getting the pillow dirty. Clara chuckled a little.

“Our holiday in Vegas was the worst. You told me that the pillows were so dirty they needed to be burned. I didn’t expect you to actually try to burn them in the Ensuite” She said.

Clara jumped a little when she heard to faint sound of laughter. The way the last part of the laugh paused, before turning into a wheeze… it sounded so much like him. She shook her head. Of course, she is hearing his laugh. She knows his laugh as well as her own. There’s no need to start thinking that I’m in a ghost story, she thought. That would mean something interesting would happen. Instead of this, being constantly alone. Clara slowly rolled herself out of bed, catching a fleeting glance of herself In the dressing table mirror. She looked completely bleached of any colour, her red hair a jarring flash of colour against her pale skin and greyish clothes. Clara sighed and slipped on her trainers. She blew a kiss to the urn as she walked around the bed towards the door. She saw her work shirt hung over the banister as she came to the stairs and inwardly groaned. Only two more days and it’s back to work! She thought, a rictus grin spreading over her face. I bet fucking Kathy will be so ready to tell me how sorry she is, what an unforeseen tragedy this all is. Kathy, who barred her way from leaving work early. Kathy who tried to box her car in when she tried to go to the hospital. Kathy who stopped her from seeing her husband before he died of his injuries. Kathy who gets away with everything. Kathy, the fucking boss’s daughter.

“She’s lucky we have to work virtually now. I can’t punch her through the fucking screen” Clara muttered.

She heard his laughter again, passing her down the stairs. It was like he had moved right past her. Clara paused. She listened for more laughter. The silence dragged on for a few minutes. Then she heard a slight creak from the kitchen door. Then the sound of tapping on the kitchen countertop. Tap. Tap. Tap-Tap-Tap. Tears pricked Clara’s eyes. John’s ritual before making a cup of coffee. He would always tap the counter before that. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, half the time. Clara climbed down the rest of the stairs on numb legs. Why am I so afraid? She thought. If it’s him, he wouldn’t want to hurt me. But this reassurance felt hollow as a deep, unspoken fear screamed a warning inside of her. She couldn’t understand what it meant, but something primal in her told her to stay away. Clara half turned towards the front door in a trance, before shaking herself out of it and heading towards the kitchen door. She pulled open the door before she could think about it further. The kitchen was empty. Clara staggered forward, disappointment and relief fighting inside of her. The door made a thud as it hit the counter and began to rebound back. Clara flinched a little. She had no idea that she had swung the door open so violently. A small smudge on the door handle caught her eye as it swung. She caught the door handle and looked at it. Her stomach twisted. Wood polish stains. John always forgot to wash his hands before he came to make coffee. Always did it in the kitchen sink. There were stains all over this door. But this one. This one looked new. Something inside of her screamed again, but she ignored it. She turned to the countertop. A cup of coffee always makes me feel better, she thought. Maybe then I can think of what to do next. At least I won’t have to find a teaspoon, she thought, staring at the teaspoon lying on the kitchen counter. She made herself a cup of coffee, scraping the last few grains. She never used to have sugar in her coffee, but now she could barely taste it anymore unless it had sugar in it. Like he did. Clara sat down at the kitchen table, waiting to hear from him again.

1:45pm

Clara jolted awake at the kitchen table and saw this time printed on the oven clock. Clara groaned. Not again. She reached for her coffee cup, flinching when her hand passed through empty space where the cup should be. She looked over to the kitchen sink and there it was. The teaspoon had been put inside the cup, which was half-filled with water. John always left cups like that in the sink for her to find, always forgotten halfway through. She began to wash the cup on autopilot, her mind racing. Why is he only haunting me like this? Why doesn’t he talk to me? Can he talk to me?

“John?” Clara called out “You there? Can you hear me?”

The door creaked behind her. Clara jumped, smashing the mug. She heard a small tutting sound next to her ear. The hairs on her next stood up as a cold breath caressed her ear. Clara sobbed. She could picture the smirk he always had on his face when he would tickle her ear with his breath. She could see it so clearly that when she turned to look to the side of her, it took a moment to register that there was no-one there. She felt a cold touch squeeze her hand before moving away, a series of tapping sounds following where he went. She turned to follow where he went before hearing a pitiful meowing from outside. Clara smiled as she took a can of tuna out of the cupboard. It seemed that feeding this stray cat was the only thing that got her up in the morning. She opened the back door and the cat walked in. Suddenly he stopped, every hair on his body sticking upwards. The cat then bolted back outside, making weird choking sounds as he ran. Clara walked after him, shaking the tin encouragingly. Clara wondered whether he saw John and was scared off, cats are often more sensitive to these things. The cat was waiting for her, it’s grey matted fur still sticking up slightly. He watched her with suspicious eyes as she placed the opened tin down. The cat began to eat, purring cautiously. He then let Clara stroke him behind his ears once before running off into the bushes. Clara shrugged and walked towards the house. As soon as she reached the kitchen, she gagged the stench of wood polish and rot hit her nose. It smelt like the woodpile John found a rotting corpse of a dog stuffed at the bottom. It’s neck had been broken, it’s collar rusted. Clara ran back outside and threw up, her breath coming out in thin gasps. There was something off with that smell. Something Alien. She sat on the patio floor for a few moments. She felt locked out of her own home. Something was in there. She hoped it was her husband. Until now she was believing it was. But if it wasn’t… Her thoughts were cut off by a knock on the door. If I can talk to someone else, maybe this will all make sense. She stood up to answer the door.

2:45pm

She woke to the sound of the phone ringing. The clock above the kitchen read 2:45pm. Clara stood up abruptly, her chair crashing to the ground. How did I get here? I was outside the house a second ago… who was at the door? Are they still there? These questions tumbled around in her mind as she felt the world spin around her. Part of Clara screamed at her to leave, but every time she tried to move away, one thought held her in place. What if it’s really him? What if I’m walking away from the only things I have left. She felt powerless to leave. I should probably answer the phone, she thought. Maybe I can talk to someone there. Clara reached the phone as it went to voicemail. Clara flinched when she heard Kathy’s voice. At least she thought it was Kathy’s voice, it sounded like it had all of the entitlement ripped out of it.

“It’s Kathy.” Kathy said “I tried to come to the house, but I don’t think you were in. I know you are the last person you want to hear from… but I just wanted to tell you two things. First, I’m sorry” She scoffed sadly. “I know that won’t mean anything but I am sorry… I was a bitch and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I bet you’re wondering what made this person less of a bitch, huh”

Clara thought she could hear Kathy crying.

“Well, that’s the second thing… my dad died a week ago. And with that Greenleaf has been bought out… everyone has been sacked. I’m sorry, Clara…. The company should’ve informed you, but I found out yesterday they hadn’t. I’ll see if you are in tomorrow and I’ll try and help with redundancy pay” She sighed again. “Anyway, I’m sorry again. Not that it makes any difference”

Kathy hung up. Clara laughed. Now I really regret passing out, knowing who was at the door. Clara began to laugh harder, tears running down her cheeks. She’s sorry. My carers gone and my husband is dead, but it’s ok because she’s sorry. I’m going to have to search for a new fucking job whilst living on my savings, but that’s ok because she’s sorry. Clara’s anger built up inside her, for some reason it made it all worse knowing she was sorry, knowing she was grieving. Kathy had taken one more thing from her. A villain to hate. How dare she show me that she’s human. Clara ripped the phone out of the wall and strode over to the bin.

“Fuck your apology and Fuck you!” Clara screamed, tossing the phone into the bin.

She stood there for a few moments, breathing hard, her rage slowly dying down. She felt emptied out, as if she had thrown the last of herself away with that phone. What do I really have now? She thought to herself. Everything that should matter to me has been slowly taken away. Clara sat on the floor, staring at the empty kitchen. This house had only ever had guests once, she thought. Two years ago. Mum had just received her terminal cancer diagnosis. We were all having our last party. I’d never seen so many of my family members in one place. In a way it was kind of a goodbye party for everyone there. Expect me, Clara thought. I always seem to be left out of everything.

3:45pm

Clara woke to the sound of the basement door opening. She took a deep breath when she saw the coffee cup in front of her. He’s made me a cup of coffee, she thought in disbelief. She reached forward to take the cup. Then hesitated. Why do I keep falling asleep? And why do I always end up here, at the kitchen table? She pushed away from the table, unnerved. The cup began to dance on the table, coffee spilling over the surface of the table. A scream built up around her. It drilled into her skull, brining her to her knees with a crushing feeling of grief and loneliness.

“I’m sorry!” Clara screamed “I’m sorry John!”

The scream cut off abruptly. Clara felt a cold hand squeeze her shoulder. Then it was gone. Clara got to her feet, a feeling of dread spreading though her. John would never do this. He would understand why I was afraid. But if it freaks out at me not drinking coffee, she thought. I don’t think I can leave. Not yet. She placed the cup gently back in the sink. She had heard the basement door open. I think it wanted me to go down there. She walked slowly down the stairs, steadying herself on the crumbling banister. John always told me he’d fix it, no need to buy a new one. Clara smiled sadly. Who knew this thing would outlive him. When she reached John’s workshop, she was struck at how fresh it still seemed. The workbench still had a book jammed under one the legs. The boxes of materials were still strewn everywhere despite Clara telling him to buy proper storage, the only time he listened was with that stupid locker, she thought. The air still smelled of a strange mixture of aftershave and sawdust. I would always get him the same one at Christmas. I was never really creative with anything, even gifts.

“You were always the creative one, eh John?” She said as she walked towards his work bench. “ I was just some boring accountant”

She turned over John’s last project in her hands. It was one half of a pair of bookends. It was carved to look like one half of the TARDIS, but it hadn’t even got a coat of it’s blue paint yet.

“I wonder if the poor sod has given up on waiting for his bookends”

That laugh again. Clara held in a shudder. It was so easy to talk to it like it was John, she thought. Because I want to be. Clara heard a rattling from the other side of the workshop. She saw the doors of the small red locker on the other side of the workshop warp and bend as it tried to open the door. She backed away slowly. She didn’t want this locker opened. She even ran for the stairs but a pain in her head brought her to her knees. When she opened her eyes, there it was. Her 10th anniversary present. It was anatomically correct carving of a heart, with the engraving “It will always belong to you” engraved on the side. She only found this after he died. He had died two days before his anniversary. Under the smell of sawdust and aftershave, she smelt it again. That alien, rotten scent. This isn’t John. So why do this? To make me think of John, like I don’t think of him enough. Clara gasped as the truth washed over. Something wants to be John. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. In a blind panic she ran up the stairs, pure adrenaline powering her on as she fought against the pain in her head. She was gasping for breath when she reached the door. She pulled at it furiously but it wouldn’t budge. She began to tug more furiously as she felt something washing towards her like a wave. And then just blackness.

4:45pm

Clara woke up at the bottom of the basement stairs, her head ringing. She reached around the back of her head and winced as she felt blood on her fingers.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry” A voice spoke from the other side of the room. It sounded like John. Almost. It was like John was speaking on a bad telephone connection, every sound was distorted.

Clara said nothing and looked around the room. She could barely see beyond a small circle around her. The lights above her were working, but they lit up nothing, as if a barrier was pinning the light away. This wasn’t really her basement anymore. This was somewhere else.

“I just wanted to give you your anniversary present” It continued

Clara snapped her head towards the source of the voice, full of rage.

“How do you know so much about us? Are you in my head. How did you do this? How could you do this?” She seethed.

Clara felt the air close around her throat, her breath slowly squeezed from her body.

“I’m John, why wouldn’t I know these things” It told her calmly

The chokehold released her and she fell forward gasping. She scrambled back against the wall, hand protectively held over her throat. Fuck, she thought. It really controls everything here.

“I’ve just been lonely” It said. She felt it get closer. “So lonely. And I thought you were lonely too”

Clara felt tears burn her eyes.

“Yes… I’ve been lonely. I don’t- I don’t have anyone… and everyday I just feel… I just feel so empty. Especially at-“

“Especially at 5:45pm. That’s when I left you… I’m so sorry honey” It told her, getting closer still. Clara felt it was so close, that she would soon see it.

“But… but yo- you’re not him. Why would you do this? How fucking dare you” she whispered.

Clara felt the chokehold tighten again, the screaming and pain building up in her head. She felt like world was ending, that everything around her would shatter. The pain, the loneliness, the grief… everything caught her at once.

“How could you say that!” It wailed. “I just want us to be happy… I did everything right. Everything he did”

Clara felt it’s shock as it registered it’s mistake. The air rushed back into her lungs. She sensed it was a bit further away now.

“I’m sorry” It whispered. “I’ve just always been alone… so I thought.. we could help each other.”

Clara sensed it drawing closer, growing more confident with these words. It had reached her and she saw it’s arm reaching for her. It was gnarled and black like a twisted branch of a tree.

“We’ll never be alone again” It whispered.

Suddenly it pounced on her, it’s limbs wrapped around her in a tight embrace. A sharp pain spiked in Clara’s mind as she felt something push it’s way in. The stench of wood polish and rot surrounded her as it’s arms held her to it’s skeletal body tighter and tighter. Clara’s head began to swim, it’s need overwhelming, tearing her down eagerly. The images in her mind became blurry, the details jumbled. She couldn’t remember why she was afraid. She felt the embrace around her loosen as she returned it, laying her head against it’s chest. Against John’s chest.

5:45pm

Clara woke up on the basement floor and fell into John’s arms.

“Are you ok?” He asked. “Sounds like you had a nightmare”

Clara nodded, her face wet with tears. “I did” She replied. “I dreamed you were dead”

“Oh sweetheart” John said, holding her close. “That’s horrible” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured her.

Something on the floor caught her eye. It was a wooden carving of a heart. John’s eyes widened.

“Sorry, I must’ve forgotten to hide that. It’s your anniversary present”

Clara smiling, kissing the carving. “It’s perfect” She winced. “ I think I bumped my head, I’m feeling a bit dizzy.” She paused the world swimming around her. “I think I need to get this checked, I feel like I’m going to faint”

John went unnervingly still for a moment. Clara felt the pain spike in her head.

“You’re right… just give me a second, I’ll get our coats.” John said quietly.

Clara waited for a few moments, a strange unease nagging at the back of her mind. She heard someone knocking at the door. She got up quickly, wincing. Wasn’t someone at the door earller. She slowly staggered up the stairs, leaning against the wall a few times as her vision began to dim. She opened the basement door and there was nothing there. Where the hallway should be, there was a vast emptiness. She still heard the knocking. Her house was still here, but she couldn’t see it? Why couldn’t she see it?

“I told you to give me a moment” John spoke from the darkness.

Clara staggered backwards, the pain almost forcing her into unconsciousness. She lost her footing on the stairs and fell. A giddy feeling of relief filled her as she fell. As the world faded away, she felt free.

1:45pm

Clara rubbed her eyes. The same time stared back at her. Shit, she thought. I’ve been sleeping later and later these days. The sound of laughter drifted by her ears. Clara frowned. It sounded like Johns.