Horror Stories from Horrified - Volume One (2)

headstone, w hile my sister holds a r ustling cellophane w r ap of daffodils in her
hand. They w er e Mum?s favour ite flow er. Ther e w ill be many mor e yellow bundles
yet to come, to be placed at the altar of our Mother.
Sleep, hush now , I tell myself. The r oom is cold, and I w r ap a spar e duvet ar ound
myself until I am cocooned in sheets and soft quilts. I pull the cover s over my head
and embr ace the war m dar kness I have cr afted. The w ine, still bubbling in my
stomach, makes sleep a little easier.
Despite myself, I am dr eaming of Mum. We ar e in a car par k, somew her e on
holiday in a cold, w indsw ept par t of the countr y w her e the gr ound is slick w ith
mud. I am tir ed, and my clothes ar e soaked thr ough. We bundle towar ds the car ,
holding hands, and Mum str uggles w ith her keys befor e w e can get inside. The sky
is gr ey and r elentless, lashing waves of cold r ain acr oss the w indshield. We get
inside, and Mum sw itches on the heating: a blast of war m air fills the car , and for a
moment I am not so tir ed. The r adio begins to play, soft and r iddled w ith static
hissing, but the song is so familiar to me.
Avalon, by Roxy Music. Mum?s favour ite song.
I am still in the car. Mum is gone. I look ar ound and see that she is out in the r ain,
waving to me. I pull on the door handles, but I am locked in. I hammer on the glass,
but it w ill not yield. I cr y out to Mum, to tell her to get back in the car , she?ll fr eeze
out ther e, but she cannot hear me. I am dr ow ned out by the r ain and w ind, and the
over cast clouds hang above the cr aggy black mountains that have appear ed all
ar ound us. The water is getting higher , and Mum is beginning to dr ift away, like
flotsam on a r olling sea. I have to save her , I must save her. It?s not my fault.
I?m sorry, Mum.
Tw o knocks at the bedr oom door. I wake and see that it is now dar k outside, the
str eetlamps flicker ing like fir eflies. The door to my bedr oom is ajar. Maybe Dad has
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