Voices of the Dead

Prologue

A hotel. That’s what she had told Mercia. Well, that was everyone’s name for it anyway, Sarah thought. So it’s not a lie. And it looks like a hotel, she thought. Sometimes. Sarah leant against one of the doorways, her vision doubling as a migraine stuck a burning needle into the base of her skull. This place is starting to get to me, she thought. I need to find a way to get out of here. A high-pitched squeal rang out across the hotel. Thoughts of running were smothered. Caught you, she thought. She raced down the stairs towards the source of the sound.

Chapter one- Sarah stiles is missing

Two days, Mercia thought. Sarah has been missing for two days. She was meant to be back from the hotel she was studying after a week, but nothing had been heard of her for two days. Mercia paced around their bedroom, sick with terror. The last week had been bad enough, but with her late back, she could barely cope with the feeling of emptiness that filled every day. And this dread. A sense of dread that stalked her everywhere. She felt paralysed. Mercia reached for the phone. The police won’t help, she told herself. Not after all the false reports you’ve given. Besides Sarah was a grown woman, who was known for going off to strange places for a week or so. It was literally part of the job. Mercia tried to tell herself this, but it felt hollow. Surely, she would’ve called. Mercia shook this thought away. She collapsed back onto the bed, her mind still raced as she curled into a ball and closed her eyes.

When she finally fell asleep she dreamed of Sarah again. She dreamed of the butterfly house where they had first met. Mercia seemed to glide through the doors until she saw Sarah standing there. Her arms, like the first time they had met, were covered in butterflies. It created a carpet of living colours across her upper body. She was transfixed. She stood there in the same spot until she was knocked over by something from behind. Mercia smiled, remembering that the next group that come in had knocked her over that day. Sarah had come running over to her. In reality the butterflies had flown away. In this dream, the followed her, surrounding them both in a living rainbow.

“How do you get all of them to land on you like that?” Mercia had asked

“I may or may not have smeared sugar water all over my arms” Sarah stage whispered, pulling Mercia up from the ground.

Mercia laughed. “You’re kidding”

Mercia remembered what had happened next. And this was always where the dream went wrong. Sarah had offered her arm. Mercia felt her arm gingerly stroke it, feeling the sticky residue of the sugar water on her arms. Mercia remembered laughing, feeling more free than she had in years. Then she looked down. Her hands were covered in blood. Mercia back up, her chest hitching. Not again.

“It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream” Mercia told herself over and over.

“Mercia” Sarah said in front of her, her voice playful.

Mercia shook her head. She tried to close her eyes but she couldn’t. A distorted and faded hand pulled her head up. Sarah looked back at her, but she was bleeding away at the edges. Her body was shrinking as she was slowly washed away.

“Don’t look for me Mercia” She begged, her voice faint. “Let me fade away”

With these last words, only her face remained. Mercia watched as butterflies swarmed towards it, enveloping it in a sickening carpet of fluttering bodies. Screams could be heard as the last parts of Sarah were eaten away. The butterflies crumbled away and she was gone.

Mercia awoke with a start, Sarah’s scream still echoing in the darkness. I have to do something, she thought. Sarah has been gone for too long. Mercia curled into a ball, slowing down her breathing so she could think of a plan. The dream warned her to stay away, but Sarah would know that she wouldn’t be able to do that.

Mercia sat at the edge of the bed, checking once again the overnight bag that she had packed. Change of clothes. Directions to the hotel. Camera. Notebook. Pepper spray. Money. Phone. With every item she check, her anxiety grew. She hated leaving, she wanted to be at home when Sarah got back, but she also needed to find her, to make sure she was ok. Mercia ran her hand repeatedly through her auburn hair, her slight frame hunched as she was sat there, trapped in her unwinnable dilemma. Desperate for something to calm her down, she reached into the bag and pulled a small box out of the bag. She took the item out of the box and put it in a pocket. Better keep it in here, so I can give it to Sarah when I see her, Mercia thought to herself. She went over to the kitchen and packed a few bottles of water and some picnic food that was left in the fridge. She went to back to the bedroom, to find some shoes. She put them on. I shouldn’t be doing this. Mercia thought. She sighed and began checking the items again. I’m probably being stupid, Mercia thought. Sarah’s only been gone a few more days then she said she would be. She probably just is tying up loose ends at the hotel. Maybe she’s actually found something worth reporting on this time. That nightmare is just my anxiety creeping into my dreams again, she told herself. But that doesn’t really matter does it her mind whispered; the fact is that you just don’t like it when Sarah goes away. Without her, everything you try to press deep down tear their way to the surface. She shook her head trying to drown out this thought. But every time she tried to push it down the images burst into her mind, making her almost gasp for breath. Her heart began to pound as these thoughts began to race in her mind. Mercia curled into a ball on the floor her heart ramming against her chest as her breath tore out in strangled gasps. Her entire body was filled with fire as she sat there, restless but frozen. Finally, she raced to bathroom and vomited into the sink. She collapsed on the bathroom floor, her face drained off all colour as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

“You’re ridiculous, Mercia. She’s just a bit late back that’s all. You shouldn’t go racing after her” She gasped.

Mercia got up from the bathroom floor and washed her face in the sink. On shaky legs she walked up to the bed. Zipped up the bag and picked it up.

“I should really just let this go” She muttered to herself.

She pushed the bag away from the bed and kicked her shoes off. As she laid back on the bed, her heart began to pound again. What if she’s been kidnapped? Her mind whispered. What if Sarah is dead. You’ll never see her again. And you know what will happen then. Mercia shook her head again. I can’t do this. She thought. She’s fine. And how would it look if she sees you come racing after her like some lunatic? How likely is it really that she is dead? Mercia tried to calm her breathing. Tried to close her eyes. Her heart contuined to race. Mercia tried to ignore it. Images began to flash in her mind again. Sarah dead in a ditch. Sarah gagged in the back of a van. Sarah trapped by the ghosts she tried to find. Mercia’s eyes snapped open. She fell out of the bed and crawled into a ball again, waiting for the next storm to pass. Her body burned as she reached for her shoes. As she placed them back onto her feet, her heart rate went down. The images slowed. She picked up her bag and almost felt at peace.

“I hate myself” She muttered as she walked out the room.

She walked out of the apartment, praying no-one was in to see her break her vow. Mercia felt heavy with disgust as she walked down the stairs. I’m basically a fucking stalker, she thought. All because I can’t stand being alone.

There were hardly any buses to the village she needed to go, making her walk halfway across town until she finally settled on the narrow bench under the bus shelter. She sighed as she looked at her watch. It’ll be nearly an hour before the right bus comes. She briefly considered taking a taxi, but discarded it. Taxi drivers are too talkative. It’s unlikely anyone will want to chat on the bus. It makes everything simpler, less likely to come off desperate and creepy. When the bus finally came, only a few other people came onto the bus with her, and for most of the journey the bus was empty. Empty apart from her thoughts. Thoughts of Sarah dead. Thoughts of Sarah leaving. Thoughts about her whole life falling apart without her. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She jumped and saw the bus driver looking at her.

“Sorry, but this is the last stop. This is where you wanted to go right?” He told her

Mercia nodded, shuffling away down the aisle. She turned back

“Thanks” She muttered