The Family Tree

The elegant mahogany stand on which the thick-volume bible lay upon was exquisite. Diane inspected the craftsmanship with increasing delight as she trailed along the stem. Unsure if she was more pleased with the immense leather-bound bible or the antique stand, Diane decided that together they were priceless. She was thrilled that she happened to stop at the estate sale on her way to work and find this treasure. The pair looked perfect in her sitting room, accenting the design of the trim of the room. Opening a few pages delicately, she caressed the book. Her husband would compliment on her taste she assured herself.

While she puffed a pillow on the settee, she heard the rustling of pages. Inquisitive, she turned back to the book and saw the family tree page open. The elegantly written names on the page were in faded red ink and barely legible. She traced her fingers down the list noting the names, birth dates and dates of deaths. Some of the people listed on this page were very young at the time of death; in fact, none had become what she would call elderly. She clicked her tongue as she thought of the tragedies that must have befallen this family.

Pulling back her hand, she noticed that the names were even more faded than she had first thought. What a pleasure it would be to start her family tree inside this volume! Sautéing to the kitchen, she retrieved a calligraphy pen from a drawer and returned to the sitting room. Diane paused to reflect how far back she wanted to start the tree. Should she start with the first member of her family that she could recall? No, this was her new family heirloom and she wanted to be on the top of the page.

With great care, she wrote her name, husband’s name, followed by the names of her three children. Her tongue poked out of her mouth as she worked the stylish letters. She smiled in self-satisfaction as she inspected her work. With the bold black print of her family’s names, the other names were barely visible. She blew on the page to dry the ink.

As she started to withdraw, the top of her left index finger caught along the edge of the page. A slight shriek escaped her lips as she quickly brought the finger to her mouth. A rather large paper cut had formed on the finger, gaping slightly. A few drops of her blood had bled onto the pages of the book. Disappointed, she sucked on her injured finger.

After walking to the kitchen, she started the cold water and put her finger under the flow. Fuming to herself for her negligence, she hoped the value of the bible was not greatly reduced because of the blood. The corners of her mouth drooped down as the water trailed down her hand. Diane had not noticed her marriage ring slipping until she heard it clink in the sink. As it started to swirl around in the water, the gold circle scraping along the drain, she dove with her right hand down to retrieve. With a clunk, it fell down into the black hole.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed while she rolled up the sleeve of her right arm. She reached down into the drain, her fingers glancing along the blades of the garbage disposal. Blindly, she kept feeling around. Her hips swung close to the sink as she maneuvered her hand in the hole.

Closer her hips moved to the switch that would start the disposal.

Rotating her hand around the blades, she closed her eyes to close out the sense of sight to try to heighten the sense of touch. Fingers grazed along the smooth metal of her jewelry but slipped out of reach as she tried to grasp it. She moved closer to the sink, her hips flippantly passed by the button without enough pressure to start it. Her fingers clasped around the metal and she pulled it up victoriously just as her pelvis pressed the switch.

Diane gasped as the noise of the machine startled her. Sudden realization of the danger she had placed herself in caused her body to flush and her legs weakened. Flipping off the switch, she took a few deep breaths and tried to calm the palpitations.

After securing a bandage on the injury imposed by the book, she wet a cloth in preparation to clean the blood stain. However upon reaching the bible, she was unable to see any blood stains. Only the red ink in which she had written the names was on the page. The other names were not even present on the page, almost as though they had faded into nothing.

She started to turn to start housework when she stopped abruptly and turned back. Her eyes looked at the names of the family. Hadn’t she written them in black? Scanning the floor for the marker she had dropped after the paper cut, she was unable to find it. Perhaps it had rolled under the couch she thought to herself.

Diane blew a breath of air up towards her forehead. She didn’t want the ink to stain her rug if the cap was not fastened tightly; she would need to retrieve the pen. Bending over by the couch, she stuck her right hand underneath to feel for it.

A pair of scissors that were partially open lay beside the marker.

Her fingers danced around underneath searching. Her fingers felt the pen. She closed her index finger and thumb around it and started to pull it out. She nudged the handle of the scissors roughly which caused the scissors to close suddenly on her small finger. Diane yelped and pulled her hand out quickly. The nail on the small index finger was broken very close to the finger. She scowled and nursed yet another finger.

Standing up, she pushed the couch to get the objects underneath. As she started to retrieve the marker and scissors, a moan reverberated inside the room. Snapping up, Diane felt something inside the room with her. It was a malevolent presence that appeared to want to inflict harm onto her.

Hearing a ruffling of a few pages, she walked to the bible. There was a new page that it was turned to; the words were ancient and evil. She could only read a few easily, words like torture, sacrifice, and flames. Her head pulsated with her heartbeat as the smell of cinders and hot ash filled her nostrils.

“Mom, I’m taking a bath now,” yelled her eldest teen from the upstairs.

Diane flicked her gaze up and answered in agreement.

Turning her attention back to the book, she saw normal bible passages. Wrinkling her brow in thought, she flipped a few pages and saw nothing amiss. Diane rolled her eyes and shook her head in self ridicule. Sometimes she had such an imagination.

She finished fetching the pen and scissors and shoved the couch back in place with her hip, taking the time to adjust it back into the usual spot by matching the indentations in the rug. Diane hummed to herself as she started back for the kitchen to replace the items in a drawer.

Chanting was heard behind her.

Daine stopped and fought the urge to turn around and inspect. The chanting appeared to get closer and then fade back. An inhumane scream echoed in the room. She clutched the dining room chair with her left hand still fighting her panic. Trying to move forward, she faltered and nearly fell, barely catching herself. Once again her beating heart raced inside her chest.

A deep, raspy voice whispered in her ear. Diane bit her lips together. A digging in her chest surprised her and she looked down. The scissors she had carried with her were digging in. She did not remember walking with the blade upward but somehow she had. The chanting stopped suddenly and Diane counted to ten before she turned around. Nothing was out of place.

Sighing gratefully, she continued to the kitchen and deposited the scissors and marker into a drawer. She trimmed her broken nail and used an emery board to smooth the edges out. Feeling much calmer, she pulled out of the hall closet the vacuum and started her daily routine. The vibration and noise of her housework appliance comforted her and she sang while she worked. As she passed the sitting room, a small humanoid figure darted for cover in her peripheral vision.

Expecting her son to have returned home, she clicked off the vacuum to remind him not to track on the rug. However, when she turned towards the sitting room she could not find him.

“James?” she asked for him.

No response.

She searched the room with her eyes and still was unable to locate him. Her eyes found the book and she smiled to herself. She walked back to the bible to admire it once more. The family tree page was open. As she moved her hand to trace along the page, Diane was horrified to see under her husband’s name that the date of death had today’s date. The date appeared to be in Diane’s writing! She gasped as she brushed her hand along the ink and stared at her fingers to see if the ink was fresh.

The date of death started jumping from name to name almost like a roulette wheel going counterclockwise. It stopped at names briefly before it would continue on. Hollow laughter and cheering occurred each time the date stopped.

Assured that there was indeed an evil presence within the book, she used the sleeve of her blouse to try to remove the names she had written inside. She licked the sleeve and tried to blot. The date of death stopped on the name of her eldest daughter and the picture of the tree turned into flames. Diane saw that the top of the page had changed from The Family Tree to The Death List.

Diane slammed the evil book shut and grabbed from the stand. She threw it in the fireplace. With shaking hands, she took the matches from the mantle and started a fire on the book.

The cry of a child and splashing water invaded her revenge, and she saw in her mind today’s date under the name of her daughter. “Mom, I’m taking a bath now,” echoed in her ears. She looked up as she remembered Jennifer was upstairs bathing.

In a haze, she left the sitting room and entered the dining room. Flames started flickering in her vision, yet she knew these were only an illusion as no heat came from the flames. She hurried up the stairs passing her daughter Megan who lay on her bed reading a book. She went to the bathroom.

Jennifer was relaxing comfortably in the bath while she listened to her favorite band on her boom box. Because of her sister’s insistence on quietness, she had moved the radio to the side of the tub and turned the volume down. She bobbed her head to the music with her eyes closed unaware that the electrical box was slipping closer to the water.

She heard the door crash open and opened her eyes wide as her mother snatched the radio from the tub. Her mother was flushed and appeared terrified. Outraged, Jennifer grabbed a towel and stood, covering herself with the cloth. Expecting a lecture about responsibility and never having an electrical apparatus near water, Jennifer winced. However, one did not come.

Diane unplugged the radio and put on the floor away from the tub. She opened her mouth but then seemed to focus on something above Jennifer’s head. Her mouth twisted in terror.

“James! Where’s James?” she screamed.

“Across the street playing in the pool with his friend,” Jennifer told her mother while she still held the towel. Apparently her mother had flipped out Jennifer thought.

Tearing through the hall, the vision of the child going under the water flooded Diane’s vision; the pleas for help ripped through her heart. As she started down the stairs, a push from behind on her thighs nearly caused her to fall headfirst. But, she grabbed onto the railing and suffered a twisting injury to her ankle. She continued hobbling down, the vision overwhelming her. She had to save her son!

Diane flew out the door and hobbled down the steps. Her ankle throbbed painfully at each step she endured, but she would not allow the pain to stop her.

While singing a tune on the radio, the truck driver drove along the residential street at a slightly higher than speed limit speed. He was oblivious to the afternoon sun that blinked at him through the leaves of the maple trees until he was blinded momentarily by a direct beam of sun. Groaning at the sharp pain and squinting, he took his eyes briefly off the road to pull down the sun visor. Looking back at the road, he was too late to swerve from the figure running across the road. He slammed on his brakes and tried to veer away; yet, he hit the woman, then a tree, and then his head on the steering wheel. Through the blood drizzling down his face, he looked out at the woman. She weakly pushed at the truck in an attempt to move it back. Her eyes met his as she reached out for help for a moment before her body fell onto the trunk of the vehicle.

As Diane’s severed body died, the bible which had returned back to the stand opened to the family tree. The date of death under Diane's name looked freshly written. A cackle resounded from within.


Word Count: 2284