Chapter 7 - The Unseen Invitation
The wooden planks of the old bridge snapped into place with a series of loud, wet cracks that echoed over the roar of the rising water. Ethan grabbed a heavy iron poker from the fireplace hearth, his knuckles white as he gripped the cold metal. He stepped up beside Clara and Lily, his jaw set in a hard, desperate line. No one was crossing that bridge. It was a structural impossibility, a manifestation of whatever sickness had taken root in the valley.
Stay behind me, Ethan muttered, his eyes fixed on the small figure walking steadily through the rain.
The little girl on the bridge stopped halfway across. She wore a simple white cotton dress that seemed entirely dry despite the torrential downpour. She raised her head, revealing a face obscured by long, wet hair, exactly like Lily’s. In her right hand, she dangled the stuffed white bunny by its ear, swinging it in a slow, rhythmic arc.
Ethan raised the iron poker, his breathing shallow and rapid. Hey! Turn around! You shouldn't be here! Get off that property!
The figure didn't speak, but the sound of a music box playing a warped lullaby seemed to drift across the water, clear and distinct despite the howling wind. Clara felt a strange, heavy pressure build behind her eyes, accompanied by a wave of intense dizziness. Memories that weren't her own began to flash through her mind—sunlight on yellow wallpaper, the smell of fresh bread, the sound of rushing water filling a hallway in the dark of night.
Ethan, my head, Clara groaned, stumbling against the wall and sliding down to the hardwood floor.
Clara! Ethan dropped to one knee, abandoning the poker for a second to catch her arm. What’s happening to you?
It’s not me, Clara whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks as she clutched her head. It’s her. She’s remembering us. We lived in that house, Ethan. Before the fire. Before the water took the foundation.
Ethan stared at his wife, a cold horror freezing his blood. That’s insane. We bought this land from the county. There was nothing here except an empty slab. We built this house from the ground up ourselves.
Lily turned away from the window, her big blue eyes fixed entirely on Ethan. Her expression was heartbreakingly sad, devoid of any childish innocence. She walked over to the kitchen table, picked up the white bunny Ethan had brought back from the ruin, and held it out to him.
Daddy, you promised you would fix the roof before the storm came, Lily said softly.
May you like
Ethan stood up slowly, the iron poker slipping from his fingers and clattering loudly against the floor. As he looked down at his daughter, the features of her face seemed to shift in the dim gray light, aging backward and forward all at once into the face of a child he had buried eighteen years ago.
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