Elise sat on the edge of her bed, the hazy morning light filtering through in a pale cream veil. The skylight sat directly above her, letting the cool breeze flutter her coral-colored curtains and brown hair. How badly she wanted a friend, so she could play hide and seek, tell stories, and invite her to parties. But here, out in the 1900’s countryside, even her relatives had lived in a whole other state, but they were all dead. Elise jumped up and down on her bed, imagining a sweet but far off dream of her playing with a new girl that she had invited to her house. Her white bedframe was barley outlined against her plain white walls printed with petit yellow flowers, cheerful in the gloomy atmosphere of the house. Two ruffled pillows slept on the bed, trimmed with lace, next to 2 matching teddy bears, one clearly matted with tears. The corduroy blanket was made neatly on one side, while the other side spasmed in long wrinkles.
Through her bedroom door, she could see the dark hallway, draped in shadows and suffering. Elise stared blankly at the picture across the hall – a delicate painted portrait of herself and Kelly – Elise’s sister. Her attention wandered to the golden frame; her eyes somehow unable to focus on the painting. Kelly’s side of the painting was covered in an inky cloth. Candles placed below the painting on a white pedestal thew ghostly shadows on the faces, turning them into anguished ghosts. A clack of a doorknob turning into place jolted Elise out of her daze. Her father, Mr. Thompson, had left for work. Elise slipped downstairs, careful not to wake Raven, her youngest sister.
Downstairs, there was the familiar whirring sound as her mother, Mrs. Thompson, started up the sewing machine. A gentle clack of wooden knitting needles started, and soon blended in with the sewing machine, both of them singing in harmony. Elise’s grandma was knitting, like she did every day. From the stairwell, Elise could see the opening to the living room, with light leaking out from the bay windows. In front of the stairs was the front door. A grand, rosewood beast sleeping on the front porch. Tiptoeing down the remaining steps, Elise treaded towards the kitchen. She carefully peeled an orange, ate it, and then slipped back up the stairs, into her room, and back on the bed, staring at the painting across the hall.
Elise’s eyes drew blank as they clouded over with memories – Kelly struggling on the bed, taking in tight, ragged breaths of pain as she repeatedly twisted in the bed. Then there was nothing. A horrible silence that covered everything. Kelly froze in a contorted position, her faced wrenched up into a grotesque scream. But there was nothing. No wheezing or coughing or moaning of fevers. Kelly was gone. Then there was another image – the one of her mom coming into Elise’s room at night to calm her. “She’s gone!” Elise wailed. “Why did I live when she didn’t?” Her mom kissed her on the head. “Kelly was always frailer that you were.” Her voice trembled.
“I want a new friend,” Elise found herself saying. “So that if I lose her, I won’t be as sad as I was losing Kelly.” She climbed down the oak stairs, running her hand along the curved white railing. A few steps away from the living room, she heard her mom crying softly. Peeking around the opening, she saw her mother carrying Kelly’s old blanky. “Mommy?” Elise whispered. Her mom looked up. She sniffed and said “Yes, Elise?”
“I thought we lost Kelly’s old blanky.”
“I found it a couple of days ago, in your treehouse.”
It stung to hear ‘your treehouse’ ringing in Elise’s ears. “Mommy, can I have a new friend?”
“Why don’t you find one?”
“I can’t.”
“You haven’t looked…”
“Nobody will ever be better to me than Kelly.”
Her mom flinched. Noticing her mother’s reaction, Elise walked back up the stairs, down the dark hallway with a vase of long ignored roses wilting on a white table covered with a black tablecloth. She heard snoring from behind the door. Her grandma was taking a morning nap. Once she reached her room again, she climbed onto the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles on Kelly’s side. “I need a new start,” She continued. “I want everyone to feel better.” Elise remade the whole bed, then turned to the teddy bear. She filled a bucket of water outside at the pump, and before washing Kelly’s bear, she turned around. A hedge of wild roses was blooming at the edge of the field. Elise ran toward the bush. She carefully picked exactly six roses. Then she went back to the pump to wash the bear. After toweling it off, she combed its fur, then placed the bear back in its original position on the bed. She put the roses into the vase in the hallway. Lastly, before returning to her room, she tugged the black cloth off the painting softly. Elise went back to sitting on her bed. She turned to the empty space next to her. “You will be called Archie, and you will be my friend.”
Through her bedroom door, she could see the dark hallway, draped in shadows and suffering. Elise stared blankly at the picture across the hall – a delicate painted portrait of herself and Kelly – Elise’s sister. Her attention wandered to the golden frame; her eyes somehow unable to focus on the painting. Kelly’s side of the painting was covered in an inky cloth. Candles placed below the painting on a white pedestal thew ghostly shadows on the faces, turning them into anguished ghosts. A clack of a doorknob turning into place jolted Elise out of her daze. Her father, Mr. Thompson, had left for work. Elise slipped downstairs, careful not to wake Raven, her youngest sister.
Downstairs, there was the familiar whirring sound as her mother, Mrs. Thompson, started up the sewing machine. A gentle clack of wooden knitting needles started, and soon blended in with the sewing machine, both of them singing in harmony. Elise’s grandma was knitting, like she did every day. From the stairwell, Elise could see the opening to the living room, with light leaking out from the bay windows. In front of the stairs was the front door. A grand, rosewood beast sleeping on the front porch. Tiptoeing down the remaining steps, Elise treaded towards the kitchen. She carefully peeled an orange, ate it, and then slipped back up the stairs, into her room, and back on the bed, staring at the painting across the hall.
Elise’s eyes drew blank as they clouded over with memories – Kelly struggling on the bed, taking in tight, ragged breaths of pain as she repeatedly twisted in the bed. Then there was nothing. A horrible silence that covered everything. Kelly froze in a contorted position, her faced wrenched up into a grotesque scream. But there was nothing. No wheezing or coughing or moaning of fevers. Kelly was gone. Then there was another image – the one of her mom coming into Elise’s room at night to calm her. “She’s gone!” Elise wailed. “Why did I live when she didn’t?” Her mom kissed her on the head. “Kelly was always frailer that you were.” Her voice trembled.
“I want a new friend,” Elise found herself saying. “So that if I lose her, I won’t be as sad as I was losing Kelly.” She climbed down the oak stairs, running her hand along the curved white railing. A few steps away from the living room, she heard her mom crying softly. Peeking around the opening, she saw her mother carrying Kelly’s old blanky. “Mommy?” Elise whispered. Her mom looked up. She sniffed and said “Yes, Elise?”
“I thought we lost Kelly’s old blanky.”
“I found it a couple of days ago, in your treehouse.”
It stung to hear ‘your treehouse’ ringing in Elise’s ears. “Mommy, can I have a new friend?”
“Why don’t you find one?”
“I can’t.”
“You haven’t looked…”
“Nobody will ever be better to me than Kelly.”
Her mom flinched. Noticing her mother’s reaction, Elise walked back up the stairs, down the dark hallway with a vase of long ignored roses wilting on a white table covered with a black tablecloth. She heard snoring from behind the door. Her grandma was taking a morning nap. Once she reached her room again, she climbed onto the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles on Kelly’s side. “I need a new start,” She continued. “I want everyone to feel better.” Elise remade the whole bed, then turned to the teddy bear. She filled a bucket of water outside at the pump, and before washing Kelly’s bear, she turned around. A hedge of wild roses was blooming at the edge of the field. Elise ran toward the bush. She carefully picked exactly six roses. Then she went back to the pump to wash the bear. After toweling it off, she combed its fur, then placed the bear back in its original position on the bed. She put the roses into the vase in the hallway. Lastly, before returning to her room, she tugged the black cloth off the painting softly. Elise went back to sitting on her bed. She turned to the empty space next to her. “You will be called Archie, and you will be my friend.”
