Nightmare Girl

by Terry Volkirch

A young teenage boy is troubled by a strange recurring nightmare and he's willing to do almost anything to try to end it.

Note: I want to thank Angela Rasch for her help with this story. She's been very kind and patient with me.

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR THOSE WHO ARE SENSITIVE TO HORROR: This story has some elements of horror but it has a happy ending. I hope you give it a chance. Thanks.

Nightmare Girl
by Terry Volkirch

Part 3 of 3

My new clothes had tempted me but fear of my father had kept me from indulging myself. Instead, I'd spent the morning reading my textbooks. I might have escaped school for a few days but I couldn't escape homework.

Lunch came and went without any meaningful conversation and then I drifted to the back deck. I slumped in one of the many wooden deck chairs to think about the coming ordeal. Halloween was supposed to be a time for fun, a time for fake horror. But I get the real thing. Why me?

I had to consider that I'd gotten very lucky to escape the scary man last night. If my voice hadn't cracked and confused him, he might very well have thrown me off the cliff. My father might not have been able to get to me in time, even with the added seconds for my hysterical laughing act.

So why didn't I feel lucky? My cracking voice really, really bothered me. I didn't like the idea of growing into a man. I didn't feel comfortable as a boy. How could I like being a man?

Remembering Lisa's suggestion, I tried my line a few times and my voice didn't crack once. It must have been stress that caused it. That made me feel a little better, but I still sulked. It wasn't fair. I was too young and feminine to be a man.

A sudden loud scraping sound of wood on wood snapped me out of my funk. I looked up to see the old caretaker dragging one of the deck chairs towards me. Was he insane?

His red flannel shirt and greasy overalls looked normal enough but the intense look in his eye and wild tufts of thin, white hair reminded me of the mad scientists in the old movies that Lisa and I used to watch together.

The fearful look on my face must have confused him because his first reaction was to laugh at me. If he was insane, I hoped he was harmless.

"Wha's that look fer, kid?" he asked with a toothy grin as he sat next to me. "I ain't gonna bite ya."

I quickly looked down to hide my face. "Sorry," I muttered.

"Look here. I ain't gonna pretend I know wha's goin' on with ya here, but I know ya been foolin' with those ghosts. I hope you folks know what yer doin'."

"So do I," I agreed.

The man quickly ran out of words and turned to face the ocean. We both sat listening to the steady breeze rattling the dried leaves that still clung to several oak trees around the inn. The lack of conversation was awkward but I think I preferred it to his rancid breath.

I guess he meant well. He seemed genuinely concerned. At least I didn't think he was motivated solely by the money he might get if Dad wrote a book and got more business for the inn. He pretty much proved it too, once he got a second wind and started talking again.

"Ya know, my brother made all these here chairs. He saw 'em in a furniture store one day and decided to make his own. It's much cheaper that way. He was real good workin' wood. I think he done a good job. Don't you?"

"Yeah. Sure." I nodded, not sure of what to say. But I didn't want to be rude so I asked a question.

"So ... is your brother dead?"

The old man laughed. "What made you ask that? You crazy young folk."

"You said he was good at woodworking. I guess I thought he'd still be around making chairs or something if he wasn't dead."

"Naw. He quit. We don't need no more chairs so he didn't have nothin' to make. He isn't real creative like."

"So where is he?"

"He done moved ta Florida. He can't take the cold like I can."

"Okay," I said, unsure of where the conversation was going. I thought the man was just lonely and desperate to talk to someone.

"Anyway," he said, after a long pause. "I just wanted to tell ya to be careful tonight. Ya hear? Don't get yerself killed. A few folks here had run-ins with 'em before and nearly got themselves a heart attack fer it. Nasty piece of work them ghosts."

"I don't plan on dying," I told him. "We just want to put the ghosts to rest. My mom says they have unfinished business and we're trying to help them finish it."

"Well that may be. Just please be careful."

With that, he flashed me another toothy grin, got up and hobbled inside.

I silently chastised myself for my initial bias against the old man, and I added an extra mental beating for hating the scary man so much. A sudden flashback of the scary man's sad eyes reminded me that he must have had a soft spot, somewhere, at some time. Both the caretaker and the ghost were more than they first seemed. First impressions were overrated. No one was what they seemed.

With a satisfied smile on my face for my newly found wisdom, I took some time to clear my mind and relax. The odd little chat actually helped I think. It made me feel good that a stranger could care about me, and it gave me hope.

***

The afternoon sun dropped to the horizon without me watching on that Halloween day. The weather wasn't unpleasant enough to force me inside. I just wanted a little companionship. I'd suffered alone for too long.

I wandered inside, first looking for my mother, and I must have passed by my father several times before I noticed him, sitting at a dining room table and writing. I thought about asking him if he knew where Mom was but he looked too busy. I left him alone and continued searching.

I checked most of the first floor without any luck, but I eventually stumbled across my sister, sitting on a short couch in the lounge and staring into space.

I flopped down on the couch next to her. "Hiya, Sis," I chirped, imitating how she'd greeted me two days ago on the back deck.

"Hi, Marty," she responded quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Duh. You're gonna be dragged outside to a cliff by a ghost. This place is so weird."

I chuckled. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it yesterday."

"That's because it didn't happen until last night."

"But I told you about my dream. You knew it was gonna happen."

"I guess I didn't think it would really happen. It's pretty hard to believe."

"Unless you see it with your own eyes," I added.

"Even then."

We sat and thought about that for a short time, until I remembered who I was first looking for.

"So where's Mom? I can't find her anywhere."

"She went out for some ... supplies."

"She went shopping and you didn't go with her?" I asked, a little shocked.

"I'm supposed to stay here and watch you," she confessed.

"You haven't been doing a very good job of that," I pointed out.

"Whatever," she huffed.

"Oh. I get it. You're upset because you couldn't go shopping."

"No, Marty. I'm seriously worried ... about you."

"Oh," my cheeks burned with shame. I'd been teasing her and she was showing genuine concern for me. Dang.

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"It's okay." She turned to face me with a faint smile.

I returned the smile, and I felt a growing urge to hug her, but then a sudden thought popped into my head.

"Hey. You said Mom was getting supplies. What's she gettin'?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not supposed to, that's why. Now shut up and come here."

She leaned towards me and hugged me, making me forget all about all the strange events of the past few days.

***

Lisa made sure I dressed properly and wore the wig that night. She waited outside my bedroom door until I finished dressing and led me downstairs by the hand, not letting go until I reached my appointed place on the edge of the old dance floor.

My parents waited outside for me near the cliff. They were going to make sure no one -- not even a determined ghost -- would end my life.

I still didn't know what my mother had planned. She thought it better if I didn't know, saying something about the element of surprise. It bothered me that she wouldn't trust me. I was growing up fast and felt mature enough to handle almost anything. I'd been able to handle everything well enough so far.

I felt so different, like a completely different person from a year ago. Back then, I was just a little boy, carefree and innocent. But the nightmares and my experience at the inn had a profound effect. They led me to explore my true self in my quest to understand what was happening.

I felt so much taller -- I grew a whole inch since then! -- and more mature, and I discovered that I was meant to be a girl. All of the teasing I endured at school made sense. My behavior and feelings made sense. I couldn't deny it any more. I wouldn't deny it. I was a girl, and I made the decision to actually be a girl there, near the dance floor, after I closed my eyes, waiting for my dream to play out a final time.

It's said that on Halloween, the boundary between this world and the Afterlife weakens, allowing spirits to more easily visit us. I believed it. As a zillion times before, the dream replayed in my mind, and for the third night in a row, it worked its way into reality. But that night, everything seemed so much more vivid and real than ever before. I felt like I could reach out and tug on the dancers clothes. I heard every squeak of shoe on hardwood, every note of the guitars, including the subtle echo off the walls.

I relaxed and swayed to the music without thinking. I didn't think or care about anything. I was just a girl, enjoying some music and wishing I could dance.

As I watched the ghostly couples gracefully dance in the dim light, I yearned to dance with all my heart, so I soon danced, by myself. I lost myself in my private little dance. The dream continued exactly the same way as in my dream except for one brief but very important change just before the dreaded footsteps approached.

"A gift," I heard a girl whisper in my ear.

My whole body tingled but I didn't have time to dwell on it. The footsteps approached and I opened my eyes to see the scary man, looming over me.

Once again, the man grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the back door with a yelp. He dragged me along the deck and down the stairs to the soft sand, and we glided through the grass in the soft moonlight, rapidly approaching the cliff. It all happened so quickly.

I lapsed into my daydream of running through a pleasant meadow. The sun felt warm on my face. The experience felt as real as everything else. Layers upon layers of reality split into parallel worlds, all very real until they collapsed again.

I wanted to stay in the meadow but it wasn't to be. I came back to whatever passed for reality at the moment, running into the ghost at the edge of the cliff. The roar of the surf and strong ocean breeze nearly overwhelmed me. It was only with great difficulty and a little luck that I noticed my father, standing nearby with a grim look on his face. I didn't see my mother, and I didn't have time to look. I had a line to speak.

"Are you through yet?" I said, in a loud and perfect imitation of the voice from my dream. There was no danger of my voice cracking because I had a girl's voice.

I saw my father's eyes go wide. I'm sure he could hear me and I was equally sure that he was shocked by my voice, but it was just what the ghostly man needed to hear.

This time the ghost didn't hesitate. He lunged forward and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me hard. It surprised me for a split second, but then I followed my part and laughed. It truly did strike me as silly and stupid, and I laughed exactly as I always did in my dream.

The ghost slapped me hard, stinging my cheeks, and still I laughed. I laughed hysterically and the ghost's rage built to a terrifying crescendo. The reenactment worked, and the final scene played out as he threw me backwards off the cliff.

Everything happened in slow motion at that point. I heard my mother scream and heard my father shout, "No!" I felt a strong jerk on my arm, not unlike what I experienced from the ghost when he first pulls me away from the dance floor. Then I fell into a merciful blackness, fainting dead away.

***

I awoke the next morning looking up at the ceiling of the little bedroom on the top floor of the inn. Light filtered through the thin curtains and everything seemed so ordinary and real, but I couldn't help wonder if I was dead. Perhaps I was a ghost, doomed to join Sophie, forever reenacting the events that led up to my death. The bedroom was just a place where I waited for night so I could be thrown off the cliff.

I shivered with dread at the unpleasant thought, and had to make a decision. Even if I was dead, I didn't have to lie down and accept being thrown off a cliff for the rest of eternity. Like Sophie, I'd find some way to call for help.

I'm sure that my family had the solution to ending Sophie's torment. The dream had to be reenacted with a different ending, a happy ending where she doesn't fall to her death. If I was dead, I'd need the same help, and I was determined to get it.

Feeling pleased at my decision to fight, I propped myself on my elbows, expecting the worst. But I was instantly relieved by a wonderful sight.

My sleeping family surrounded me. My sister and mother rested their heads on the opposite arms of a short couch that had been dragged near the foot of my bed. My father slept on the floor to the side with a blanket draped over him, probably added by my mother after he fell asleep. My father liked to think he didn't need blankets. According to him, he braved the cold countless time and lived. Men could be so silly.

"Hello?" I said, testing my voice and hearing it well for the first time. It wasn't all that different from my normal voice, but it was different enough to sound more like a girl. I loved it! I loved hearing the sound of my new voice.

"Wake up, everyone! I'm okay! I'm alive!"

They all roused slowly, my mother the first to speak.

"Marty?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm okay." I smiled at her and then laughed when my stomach gurgled loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"I guess I'm not quite okay," I joked. "What's to eat?"

My mom flew up from the couch, throwing off her blanket. She attacked me with kisses and hugs, and she soon had reinforcements, forcing her to shift a little to make room.

When the hugging and kissing finally abated, I postponed breakfast a little while longer. I had to find out what happened last night. My family separated but remained with me on the bed to have a little discussion.

"I guess you've noticed that your voice sounds different," my father said, being indirect as usual.

"Yeah. I'm a girl now, aren't I." I stated it as fact. I knew I was a girl, inside and out.

Everyone slowly nodded. They looked uncomfortable, making me wonder whether they thought I wasn't happy about my new gender. I had to set them straight.

"Don't worry! I love it!" I shouted. "I truly do. Lisa! You were so right about me. But I can't believe it's actually happened."

"What did happen?" my mother asked.

"I'm not sure. Sophie whispered something about a gift in my ear and my whole body tingled. I don't know how or why but she changed me."

"Maybe it was to keep your voice from cracking," Lisa said.

"Maybe," I said. "But she said it was a gift. I like to think she's paying me back for trying to help her."

"Oh," Father cut in. "About that. I do believe we were successful in helping her, but more importantly, we saved you. I think we got very lucky last night though. Your voice really surprised us."

"Yes?" I said, trying to be polite, though my eyes glared a warning that I'd be very upset if someone didn't fill me in on the full story very soon. Mother took the hint.

"I didn't want to tell you this ahead of time," she said. "But I had a bungee cord rigged up. I was trying to attach it to your ankle but your new voice surprised me. I ... I wasn't able to do it. I'm so sorry! You almost died because of me." She started crying and my father scooted over on the bed to hug and comfort her.

"Daddy grabbed you just in time," Lisa continued, sounding like an extremely proud little girl. "It was awesome! I just got there and saw him reach out to snag your wrist. He somehow kept his balance and hung on to jerk you back to safety." She sighed and looked at our father with admiration.

Grabbing me and keeping me from flying over the cliff did sound awesome. I know how difficult that must have been because of how sore I felt. I subconsciously rubbed my left wrist, but my thoughts kept coming back to what my mother said.

"Bungee cord?" I asked, not believing what I heard.

My mom fought back the sniffles and explained that she had Father pound in a stake and tie one end of a bungee cord to it. She tested the length of the cord with a weight several times to make sure I wouldn't hit the rocks below, and then she prepared to wait and attach the loose end of the cord to my ankle when the time came.

My father reacted strangely to hearing that. He snickered.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Quiet, Dear," Mother warned.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But you should take more credit. Weight indeed." He snickered again and got me really curious.

"Mom? What's he talking about?"

"It's just his misguided way of saying that parents will do anything for their children. Let's just leave it at that. Okay?" She smiled but her eyes glistened with danger.

I took the hint and shut up, though I gave Lisa a quick questioning look. She just shrugged. Parents are so strange.

I continued to rub my sore wrist and caught my father's attention. He looked kind of guilty.

"It's okay. Really." I told him, holding my hand up and flopping it around to prove it, but I got a little carried away. "Ow! That hurts."

"I'm sorry, ssss ... um ... I'm sorry."

He really blushed, probably because he nearly called me, son. I caught the slip up, but I tried pretending that I didn't. I tried to stop my eyes from tearing up.

My father completely misunderstood but he meant well. He moved from my mother back to me and hugged me.

"I'm sorry I hurt your wrist," he said quietly in my ear. "I really am. Please don't be mad at me."

"Oh, Dad," I sniffled. "I'm not upset about my sore wrist. You did it to save my life! How could I be upset about that?"

"Then why the tears?" He pulled back to look at my face and wiped away one of my tears with his index finger.

"Because I'm no longer your son. I know you wanted me to be a man, but I couldn't be, not even before this all happened. I was never really a boy."

I sobbed and he held me again, tightly but gently, like a precious jewel. Whispered words of comfort slowly filtered through the sounds of my crying and I eventually heard what he tried to tell me.

"Boy or girl, you're my child and I love you. I admit I was excited about having and raising a son. Naturally I relate better to boys than girls. But being a girl doesn't mean we can't do some things together. It doesn't mean I'm going to ignore you."

"It doesn't?"

"No ... Princess," he told me, pulling back again. "It doesn't."

"Oh, Daddy! I love you." I lunged forward to hug him and cried some more. I was so confused. I still felt a little upset but I also felt happy, and I continued to cry.

"I'll even take you shopping if you like," he suddenly told me.

The three shopping lovers in the family gasped, and I pushed him away to look closely at his face. I had to make sure he wasn't joking.

"Mom!" Lisa shouted. "Dad said the 's' word!"

My father sadly shook his head. "Is that what you think of me? You think I'm not man enough to handle a little shopping?"

"It's not going to be easy," Mom cut in. "She's going to need a lot of new clothes. And I'm sorry to say we've already gone behind your back and bought several outfits for her two days ago."

"Is that where you went? I wondered why you were all so evasive. It's really no big deal. I wish you would've told me."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Are you telling me we kept our shopping a secret from Dad because you thought he wouldn't like us spending money?"

"Yes, of course," Mom said, looking confused. "Why else would we?"

"Oh, Daddy!" I wailed. "Now I'm sorry."

I did it again. I was guilty of being biased against someone, and this time it was my own father. I felt so ashamed. As soon as I could reasonably communicate again, I explained my reaction.

"I ... I thought you'd hate me for being a boy and buying girls clothes," I confessed, my cheeks glowing red.

"You poor child," he told me, hugging me again. "I can never hate you. I don't have it in me. Now please. Stop crying. Okay?"

"Okay." I sniffled but managed to control the flow of tears to a slow drip.

He waited a short time and spoke softly in my ear. "The only thing I'm concerned about is the power shift in the family. It's now three against one. I hope you keep that in mind and take mercy on your poor father in the future."

I giggled at his lame humor, and the dark mood lifted. From that moment on, our family moved forward to enjoy some much needed emotional sunshine. I finally made it to the sunny meadow in my dream that helped me keep my sanity.

***

The ride home wasn't as fun as I'd hoped. I couldn't stand wearing the wig for long periods of time and Lisa kept teasing me about my short hair. She liked to rub her hands over it and mess it up whenever she could. She also kept probing until she found other buttons to push. Sisters! I thought she'd be nicer now that she got the sister that she said she always wanted. No such luck.

"Hey, Marti with an 'i'. What happened to your 'y'?" she suddenly chanted several times in a row, like some demented cheerleader.

"Mom! Make her stop!"

Mother chuckled and turned to look back at us from the front passenger seat. "Lisa, leave your sister alone. She's been through enough."

"But she slept through most of it!" Lisa protested.

"She's had the same nightmare for a year and woke up screaming from it for the past few weeks. Then she went through it for real and fainted from fright. This hasn't been easy for her even when she's been asleep. Now please leave her alone."

My sister sulked but she stopped teasing me, and I sighed happily. It was easy to forgive the teasing and be happy. I just listened to my mother and sister referring to me with feminine pronouns. I was truly a girl.

Sophie had given me such a wonderful gift in exchange for the traumatic reenactment of her death. Helping her ghost would've been reward enough but becoming a girl almost made me wish I could do more. There were probably lots of ghosts that needed help moving on. Perhaps I could find them and help them somehow. It gave me much to think about.

***

"So the scary man was Sophie's father?" I asked as we all grabbed our bags out of the car.

"Yes, Sweetie," Mom answered. "He dragged her outside and threw her over the cliff in a drunken rage."

"Why?!" I stopped and cried. "Why would he do such a thing?!"

Mom dropped her bag to hug me. "Some people are sick. They need help but they don't always get it. Sophie's father killed himself a few years later by jumping off the same cliff. Everyone thought he did it because he was upset about her committing suicide, but it looks like he did it because he was upset with himself for killing her. The whole thing was just one big tragedy."

I sniffled and moved back to look up at my mom. "It's over now though. Isn't it?"

"Yes, honey. I'm sure it is. Sophie thanked us for uncovering the truth and forgave her father just before they faded away together. They both found peace, and I'm sure you won't be having any more nightmares."

"That's good," I said, heaving a sigh of relief. "But I have an even better question. Why me?"

"I'm not sure I can answer that one. I guess it has something to do with your resemblance to Sophie, but who's to say how a ghost thinks. All I know is she has good taste. She picked the right girl for the job. Right?" My mother smiled down at me.

I smiled briefly and then frowned. "Oh. Wait."

"What is it, Sweetie?"

"How are we going to explain me suddenly becoming a girl?"

"We'll manage, Marti. We'll probably have to move and call in a few favors but we'll manage. What matters is that you're happy and safe. We're all one big happy family. Even the ghosts of our ancestors are happy."

Dad and Lisa stood nearby and overheard Mom's last comment. We all shared a nervous laugh over it before going inside the house.

I made it. I was home.

*** The End ***

 © 2009 by Terry Volkirch. This work may not be replicated in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder). All Rights Reserved. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental.