Chapter 6 - The Broken Veil
The blackened hand vanished beneath the floorboards as if yanked by an invisible cable. The splintered oak snapped back into position with a loud clap, leaving behind only the acrid smell of ozone and burning cedar.
Wind and cold rain rushed into the living room through the shattered window panes, blowing the lace curtains wild like frantic white flags. Mark grabbed Toby, pulling him against his chest so hard the boy let out a small grunt.
""What was that? What did you do?"" Mark gasped, his eyes wild as he stared at the cheap, plastic TV remote in Toby’s hand.
It was an ordinary universal remote he had purchased from an electronics store three years ago. Yet the infrared bulb at the tip was now glowing with a faint, residual violet ember, hot to the touch.
Toby patted Mark’s cheek with a calm, reassuring pat. ""Sleeping time is over,"" he said clearly.
Mark turned around. Clara was sitting upright on the sofa.
Her eyes were wide open, clear and lucid, but her pupils were dilated completely, swallowing the brown of her irises in pure black. She wasn't shivering anymore. She looked around the ruined living room—at the shattered glass, the rain pouring over the carpet, and the splintered floorboards.
""Mark,"" she said, her voice entirely her own again, laced with sheer terror. ""We never bought this house.""
Mark frowned, his mind struggling to process the nonsensical sentence. ""What are you talking about? We signed the deed in January. We’ve lived here for eight months.""
May you like
Clara stood up, her knees wobbling before she steadied herself against the sofa arm. She looked at Toby, tears streaming down her pale face.
""No,"" Clara whispered, shaking her head. ""We never left the hospital. Toby died three days after he was born.""
