The Hawthorn Tree - Number 3

Never leave a window open... it invites unwanted things in!

Number 1 Number 2

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Suzie next door is a lovely lass. She’s taken to checking in on me to see if I need help with anything, which, at my age, is very appreciated.

I’m sure my wife wouldn’t have liked her, but Clair never liked anyone who paid me attention. She always said I was only good for one thing - wasting other people’s time.

Well, that’s what she used to say up until three years ago. Not a word or hint as to what she was going to do. Just packed her bags, took half the money, and left! Came as a right shock; it did.

I will confess—my wife was very particular and a little challenging to live with, but I miss her. It’s the lack of company that hits hardest.

I don’t go out often these days, just to the shop and back, so it was very nice to be invited by Suzie to her get-together.

Nice to catch up with everyone.

Jim from up the road is a bit of a busybody. I was surprised to see him, considering how sick his wife is.

I find him rather annoying, to be frank. Jim didn’t seem to understand I wanted to whisper my deepest secret into that wee bottle of Suzie’s without being overheard. Even when I walked back near her house, he seemed to follow me with his own bottle in hand. He was so close I thought it best to lie in case he overheard me. “I wish I could see my wife again.”

Don’t get me wrong—I would like to see Clair again, but I know for a certainty I won’t be.

Her body is buried in my backyard under the three-year-old camelia bush. Which, by the way, is growing very nicely.

Yes, yes, I know I told you a story about her leaving, but I tell everyone that. And because I’m dear old Mr. Smitty… everyone believes it.

Dear old Mr Smitty, who wouldn’t hurt a fly… but smothered his wife whilst she was sound asleep on an overdose of pills.

Dear old Mr Smitty, who always has time for everyone but couldn’t stand a minute longer of his wife’s constant snarking in his ear about all his faults and issues.

Dear old Mr Smitty, who’s so weak and frail but who only took three hours to drag his dead wife’s body out the back door and roll her into the deep pit he’d dug whilst the neighbours were asleep and bang down the dirt on top of her.

Dear old Mr Smitty.

Enjoyed murdering his wife!

There, I said it.

And I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

These last three years have been the best of my life since I was sentenced to forty years of incarceration with Clair.

The police haven’t suspected a thing.

And no one in the village gave two hoots – none of them really liked Clair.

Every now and again, I send an envelope with a letter inside to some far-off post office with enough stamps for a return post. And hey, presto, another typed communication from Clair telling me how wonderful her life is without me.

After the lovely afternoon was over, I indulged in my favourite hobby. Watching Suzie bend over and put her wee bottles on the tree definitely brightened my evening. She’s got a fine figure. I took a few pictures with my camera as well. I must confess, I’ve got a rather lovely photo collection of Suzie.

When that annoying old sod drove her inside, I made sure to put my favourite toy straight back into the spare bedroom with the window that overlooks Suzie’s bedroom. I usually leave the window open so I get a really clear shot.

Technology is a wonderful thing. My phone has an app that allows me to set the camera to a motion sensor. It sends me a wee ‘ting’ to my phone and then shows me the photo. A man from the local bird-watching group set it all up for me. I don’t think he knew what kind of birds I like to watch, but as I say, I put it to good use on Suzie.

It was early to bed for me after my big day out. I always make sure my phone is beside my bed, just so I can see any new photos straight away.

Since we’re being truthful, I was pretty happy when I’d almost fallen asleep and heard the little ‘ting’. But then something felt strange. The room seemed… colder than normal.

I lifted my head a little from the pillow and looked into the dressing table’s mirror, which reflected my image straight back. The covers of Clair’s bed next to me seemed to billow slowly up like someone was blowing air underneath the covers. I watched as the material rolled and quivered and then settled down into the shape of a sleeping form.

“Whit th' hell?”

Clambering out of bed, I grabbed my glasses and turned, staring hard at the shadow-draped bed. But there, the dark form remained. I could even see two legs now.

Almost sleepily, the question “Whit's th' matter, Arthur?” shocked me into action.

“Na!” was bellowed out in fright as I scrambled for the switch on my bedside lamp. With a simple click, its warm light flooded the room.

Clair’s bed was as it had been before, empty and neatly made. “Ah, must be dreaming!” The room’s light was turned on with a shaking hand. “Too much excitement fur th' day”, explained my hallucination away. “Best have a wee dram o' whiskey.”

Just for medicinal purposes, you understand.

Just to settle my nerves.

As I padded downstairs in my dressing gown and slippers, the lights went on—every light bar, the one in the spare room.

Scotch burnt the back of my throat as the first gulp went down. A ‘ting’ broke the quiet silence. I am but a creature of habit, so I sat down, ready to enjoy Suzie’s nighttime show, assured this would be the best way to rid myself of the nightmare.

I couldn’t see the dark photo clearly, so I carefully zoomed in. There in her darkened bedroom, instead of Suzie in all her naked gloriousness, was the naked back of a shorter and older woman. It looked like she’d been rolling in dirt, but something seemed… familiar.

‘Ting’ my phone went off again.

This time, the photo showed the woman almost side-on, her face turned from the window hidden in shadows. I didn’t realise Suzie had a visitor, but she looked very odd and in dire need of a bath.

“C'moan auld lassie, show me whit you’ve got.” A lecherous grin blossomed from the captivity of my nerves as my phone began rapidly ‘tinging’.

There was the woman turning, and boy, was she dirty; she looked like she’d be wresting in mud. Her body was firm, though, which was enjoyable to see. Nothing like Suzie, but then I looked at the dirty woman’s face. My phone fell to the ground as I roared out in horror.

“Clair!”

Storming up to the dark spare bedroom, I went straight to the window. Suzie’s bedroom was dark and empty. I checked the camera and could see nothing was there. Maybe I’d fallen asleep in my chair and dreamt it.

“Arthur, ye shouldn't lea th' windows open. A' th' dampness comes in 'n' affects th' wallpaper. Dae ye ne'er think aboot these things?”

Rushing for the light switch, I whimpered like a child. Nothing would be there as soon as the light was on, but fear wrapped its arms around me in the dark. I knew that voice.

The spare bedroom’s bright light dispelled all the nighttime darkness. I breathed easily as I turned and then staggered back against the wall when I saw Clair in the room with me. She stood near the window naked and dirty, her hair clumped and stained black. Her fingers and nails blackened as if she’d just crawled out of her grave.

Calmly, she complained, her voice cold and malicious, “Leav’n ya window open, Arthur invites unwanted things in.”

She smiled lopsidedly. It was not a smile I’d ever seen on her before, and it reeked of spite.

“Na ye'r deid. Clair ye’r deid!”

A long, dark, thick nail traced down her mucky features, scraping dirt off her cheek.

“Aye, a'm Arthur! An' who poot me thare, in th' cold ground wi' a' th' wee worms crawling ower me?”

Clair walked stiffly over to me, standing only an arm’s length away as I hyperventilated, transfixed to the spot by terror.

“Ye poot me thare, Arthur, 'n' ye then wished ye could see me again.” Clair reached out and held my face in her cold black hand, her sharp, thick nails biting into my cheek.

Before I could move, she raked her claws down my face, slicing my skin. Laughing as I cried out, grabbing the wound in pain. Rich ruby blood stained my shaking hands as I looked on in disbelief.

“Ye git yer wish, Arthur. Isnae that lovely'. Here, let me tend yer wound.”

Grabbing my hand, she pushed it away from my cheek, allowing the blood to flow in rivulets down my neck, staining my pyjamas. Clair leaned in, and with a long and black tongue, she hungrily licked at my face, devouring the blood from the gouges on my cheek.

Like the devil’s shadow, a lecherous grin spread across her face as she looked down and pulled my dressing gown open. “Howfur long has it been since ah tended tae other things Arthur?”

“Na. Na. Leave me alone!” I grabbed at her hands, pushing them away.

She smirked ruthlessly and giggled, “Och, what fun, Arthur. Dae ye lik' it rough? I lik’ rough!”

With all my might, I shoved her away and bolted out the door. I was foolish and went too fast. The stairs at speed were too much for me at my age, and I slipped and then fell to the bottom of the stairwell, landing in a heap. Waves of agony ensconced my mind. A hip was broken, and I shouted out, hoping that Suzie would hear me and come to my rescue. But instead, I watched my dead wife come down the stairs slowly, letting me watch her every footstep, smiling like the vicious bitch she’d always been.

“Och, dear Arthur, it looks lik' ye'v hurt yersel' badly!”

Clair pulled me from my crumpled heaped position, ignoring my cries, and laid me out flat in the passageway, then climbed on top of my hips and sat down, ensuring I howled out pitifully, “Please don’t! Please don’t!”

“Whit's th' matter Arthur, dinnae ya want a welcome me back cuddle?” She leaned forward, grinding her hips against my own, laughing as black sulphur dripped from her mouth.

I had never felt such searing pain and wailed out, begging for her to stop. “Na, na, please stoap. Please Clair!”

Clair slapped my face hard. “But ye didnae stop Arthur. Nae once whin ye forced th' tablets doon my throat.” Another slap rang in my ears. “Nae once when ye wrapped yer fingers aroond my nose and mouth and suffocated me.” Her nails caught on my ear at the end of the next slap, making them burn and wet with blood in the process. “Nae once Arthur did ye stop when ah clawed at ye when ye threw me in th' hole you'd dug.” The last slap was partnered with her bouncing up and down on my hips, grinding herself into me. “Nae once, Arthur. Nae once did ye stoap!”

I don’t know where it came from. Mabe all the slapping was so foreign to Clair’s nature that I actually looked at her. “Ye'r nae Clair”, came out through my sobbing, “Ye’r nae my wife!”

She stopped laughing and crushing my hips and looked sad, running her nailed fingers over my bloodied face. “Now ye'v gone 'n' spoilt oor game.”

With that, she looked up to the ceiling and began to change. Her skin turned the darkest shade of night, her fingers discarded their nails and instead melded with long black claws, and her face no longer resembled Clair’s. Here was a being I’d never seen before and would never want to see again. Its eyes were black and almond-shaped, showing no human emotion at all. They sat above a tiny skeletal nose and a mouth full of sharp, spindly teeth resembling needles.

“Whit are ye?”

She smiled like a vicious, blood-lusting Cheshire cat, and in a voice that buzzed with the timber of death, she announced, “A'm your wish come true!”

Off she jumped, grabbing my hands and pulling me along the passageway out the back door and onto the garden path. With every twist or turn, lump or step, the pain was excruciating. I screeched and bawled out for Suzie to come to help me but could only hear crashing and screaming sounds from her house.

Then, the dreadful realisation hit me. I knew exactly what this creature was going to do.

“Please, Na! Na! Don’t! Please! Please!” was screeched over and over again in some desperate hope the midnight demon would find some pity in her darkened heart. But all she did was drag me quicker to Clair’s open grave.

The creature bent down and pushed me to the grave’s edge; grabbing her arms, I pleaded once more, “Don’t do this, please! PLEASE!”

A loud, high-pitched scream from Suzie’s house was quickly followed by a car screaming back over the cobbles. Its engine roared before it accelerated and crashed into something that, in turn, made a dreadful howling din.

The nightmare creature turned its ugly, long face to me and hissed angrily. “Ye deserve na better human!” Sharp, agony-filled claws sliced into my ribs as she pushed me into the grave.

The dirt was wet and soft, absorbing most of my impact, but something hard hit my jaw. I moved a little and then screamed as terror washed over me as I looked into the empty eye holes of Clair’s skull.

A clod of dirt landed heavily on my back, causing my broken hip to send a stabbing pain through my spine. “Na, please, I’m alive. I’m alive!”

“Na fur long Arthur, na fur long!” was sung out as another clod of grass and earth slammed into my chest.

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