Black thread
by ~MaddyMadnessFake hair.
Her room was full of fake hair. They were not exactly wigs, at least not all of them. She had wigs and those things some girls use to make believe they have long hair. All of them as black as ebony, just like her hair.
I never knew if she saw me peeping into her room (which I found by chance when looking for the toilet), nor if she noticed my being nervous after coming back to the living room. Her face was as pale and calm as usual. She smiled warmly and offered me a cup of tea. The afternoon passed peacefuly and nobody disturbed us. At first I was keen to meet the people who lived in such a fancy house with Lily, but no one showed up. When asked wheter we were allone she just replied “Oh, they’re just sleeping”, and changed the subject.
We advanced incredibly fast.
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Next day I went to her house, but didn’t stay. She had invited me, but when I knocked at the big old wooden door she didn’t open. Confused, I waited for a while. After all, she is an amazing artist, just as Proffesor said. With her help my project would be the best one among my class and, why not?, among the University.
After about 20 minutes she opened the door a little, but not enough to see her face completely. She told me to come back another day, that she felt sick, and shut the door.
Her voiced sounded angry, I think.
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I had dreams about hair. I don’t remember exactly what I dreamt, but I woke up with the feeling of being entangled with thin black thread. I guess my visit to Lily’s place made quite an impression on me… I never stopped thinking about that room. But, was it really her room? Couldn’t it all belong to some of the sleepers? Maybe that’s why she didn’t talked about them, maybe they embarrased her. But I could never ask. How could I? Ask something like that to a woman I barely know…
Anyway, I’m taking a pause. This project thing is really stressing. I just hope she won’t stop helping me…
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After almost a week away I returned to Lily’s house. She didn’t have a telephone, so I wasn’t sure if she was busy or not.
What happened was that she wasn’t just happy to see me again, she was delighted. “I thought you didn’t like my company and managed to finish the work by yourself.” I replied she spoke nonsense, she said “Truth is, I don’t have guests often, nor I leave the house. My social skills leave a lot to be desired.” We joked and laughed. I wasn’t an example of popularity either, so I kind of understood her.
But… How old was Lily? 26? 30? Her attitude and manners resembled those of a mature women, yet she looked young.
This was another thing I could never ask.
She came up with the most creative ideas I’d ever seen. I’m starting to feel I’m doing nothing, and the project is truly hers.
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This afternoon there was a lot of noise upstairs. As I’d seen no one coming in, I assumed it was the sleepers. My friend’s face looked troubled, she stood up and went upstairs runnning. It seemed as someone was breaking plates and kicking furniture, maybe a fight of those invisible characters.
She screamed. She didn’t yell at anyone, she screamed. Then some quick heavy steps, then nothing.
It all went silent for some minutes. The silence of a graveyard. It was such an oppressing atmosphere I did not dare to stand up.
At the top of the stairs, Lily appeared. Thin, pale, trembling. Her immutable mouth made no gesture, yet her eyes were full of fear itself. She looked at me as if just remembering I was there.
“Leave.”
So I did.
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The sympathy I felt for this odd woman made me return that evening. I had to be sure she was fine, that this strange fight didn’t continue after my leaving. The front door was open.
“Lily?” I asked, but nobody answered.
The only light came from upstairs, but downstairs, pitch-dark. I entered, the room was a total chaos. I could hardly manage to get to the stairs. The rugs were misplaced,
all furniture, armchairs, tables, decoration, on the floor. This only made my worrying worse, and made me brave enough to go upstairs and look for my friend. Nothing could stop me from taking her from there, not even the spiderwebs that were suddenly everywhere.
I got to the lighted room. It wasn’t the same room I had seen the first time. At first sight, it was a simple bedroom, but then I noticed that. The entrance to the attic, opened.
I was curious, but not that brave enough to go up. It seemed… It seemed that some strings of hair hung from there.
Suddenly, a cold breeze filled the room as the principal door shut downstairs. Someone had entered. And me! An intruder! Fear got mixed with panic, my heart was beating so fast I think it could be heard. My first instinct was to hide under the bed, but there was not enough space. The wardrobe, full of moth-eaten clothes. The attic was then my only escape.
I climbed the weak stair in seconds and tried to stick to the wall. I can’t understand how I did not scream. Covering the wall, there was something soft yet hard, warm yet rotten. Covering the floor… a sea of thread.
My eyes got used to the darkness, and slowly I could see, oh madness!, I could see! All of them, all of them tied up, humans or not no one could tell! Their glassy yellow eyes looked at me in despair, their screams muffled by dirty ropes, living corpes trapped in the dark! And behind me someone closed the ceiling door!
