[Ambrose]

Synopsis: This is a story about a mother and her wonderful daughter.


Emily Harley slid the piece of toast into her mouth, let it sit comfortably on her tongue for a moment, and then crunched her teeth together like a shark.

"Yum, yum, yum!" She exclaimed excitedly, through a mouthful of bread.

Sarah Harley watched her daughter happily devour the rest of her breakfast, and then proceed to inspect her empty plate.

"Had enough?" She asked.

Emily nodded assuredly.

"Well then, go get ready for school," Sarah smiled, taking the plate from her daughter and rinsing it quickly in the sink. She looked at her watch. It was a quarter till eight. She dried her hands on a red and white checkered wash cloth and walked out of the kitchen.

Emily was seven years old and in the second grade. She was a wonderfully imaginative girl, with long black hair and a gorgeous smile. There was never a dull moment with her around. And Sarah truly loved her daughter. She was a thirty-six-year-old single mom and attorney, so at times trying to fit parenting in between work was difficult. But she was devoted to her child. It was such a devotion that she had eclipsed her social life so that she could spend more time at home. Often she would come back to the house exhausted after a meeting with one of her clients yet still find the energy to fix an exuberant Emily spaghetti and help her with her homework.

The pitter patter of footsteps above her alerted Sarah that her daughter was upstairs, getting ready for school. She gathered some papers from the dining room table, inserting a handful of them into a small brown briefcase, and then went to check her hair in the hallway mirror. Sarah worked for a big time law firm in the city; it was essential that she look tidy. She was just throwing on her coat when Emily came running down the stairs, wearing her favorite pink shirt and her white slippers.

"Got everything?" She asked, grabbing the car keys from the shelf by the front door.

"Yup," Emily said brightly.

"Oh sweety, don't forget your coat cause it's raining."

Sarah backed the minivan slowly out of the driveway, checking carefully for traffic. She and her daughter had the misfortune of living on a busy street, something she was reminded of every morning. Before she could get out, a red pickup truck sped by, followed by a gray sports car. Spying an opening, she backed quickly out into the street. Emily was buckled tightly in the back, her small hands drumming idly on the seat. She sat looking out the passenger side window.

Emily's school was only four blocks from their house. Sarah had selected the home with the location in mind. Ordinarily, Emily would walk to school but the weather had been particularly bad that week. It had been pouring down rain all morning so she elected to give her daughter a ride.

"I'll pick you up at three o'clock," Sarah said, as Emily clambered out the side door of the minivan.

"Ok mommy," She shouted, already dashing across the pavement in her yellow raincoat. A throng of kids had gathered outside the front doors. Emily disappeared from view.

Sarah put the car in gear, and drove speedily down the rain-washed street away from the school.

* * *

"When was the last time you saw her?" The detective asked.

"About eight o'clock this morning. I had just dropped her off at school," Sarah stammered, holding back tears.

"And you know for fact this is hers?" The detective eyed her intently, holding up a small yellow raincoat which was spattered in mud. He was an older man, maybe in his late forties, with a butch haircut and a short mustache.

"Yes, I told you that already," she bawled angrily.

Sarah was losing her patience. After she had received the phone call from the school, she had rushed back to the house to see if Emily was there. By the time she had finished frantically checking all the rooms and closets, in which Emily liked to hide, there had been a knock at the door and she had discovered with much alarm that it was the cops. They had been at her house for almost an hour, interrogating her about her now missing daughter and her discarded raincoat. And they still weren't any closer to discovering the meaning to either.

"Listen, Miss, we need to get all the details-," the detective began, straightening himself in his chair. He was sitting at the kitchen table, looking across a pair of decorative candles at Sarah.

"When are you going to start looking for her?" Sarah interrupted, her voice full of urgency. She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted her daughter back now.

"I understand your concern," the detective continued, unabashed. "But in situations like this, it is important that you remain calm."

"Fuck you," Sarah blurted, unable to restrain herself. "My daughter is out there in the hands of some child molester for all I know. And you want me to be calm?"

The detective was silent, appearing slightly disconcerted. After a moment, he waved a hand at one of the officers in the entranceway. A short man with ruffled blond hair walked in. "Craig, I want you to take Miss Harley out in a patrol car to look for her daughter," the detective told the officer, who looked slightly nonplussed.

"Yes sir," the officer responded obediently.

Sarah stood up, feeling relieved and embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said modestly.

"There is no need for an apology," The detective assured her, regaining his composure. "Officer Warner here will take you anywhere you want to go, wherever you think your daughter might be." He paused, stood up and peered out the kitchen window which was obscured by rain drops. "And of course, we will be searching for your daughter as well. Once the case has been filed, every police station in the state will be on the lookout for her."

Sarah thanked the detective and apologized again for her outburst. He gave her a number that she could call in case she remembered anything else that might be relevant to the case. After that, he retrieved his coat from the hallway closet and he and a couple of the other officers made their way to the front door and disappeared out into the rain. Craig stayed waiting by the entranceway.

"Whenever you're ready, Miss," he announced casually.

Sarah went upstairs to get a jacket. Craig waited patiently by the door, admiring a black and white picture on the wall. It was of a house in the mountains. After she came back down, the two of them went outside and she climbed into the front seat of his patrol car.

The afternoon sky was now completely obscured by storm clouds. Periodically there would be a roar of thunder, followed by a flash of lighting somewhere high above. Each strike seemed to bring more rain, splashing onto the street, forming torrents of water that surged on either side of the road

Under Sarah's direction, they drove down the street on which she lived until they reached Emily's school. It was four o'clock in the afternoon and the parking lot was vacant. The building shrank in the abysmal light. It was a one-level, brick compound with a set of large dark windows spanning the front. Squinting through the fogged windshield of the cruiser Sarah noticed that the front doors were open.

She walked up hastily to the entrance, rain pouring down all around her. Inside, it was dim; most of the lights had been turned off. She found her way to the office and went inside. An attendant at the front desk greeted her. The lady was plump and unfamiliar, though Sarah had only been inside Emily's school on one other occasion when Emily had broken her wrist on the playground.

"Can I help you?" The lady asked politely. After a moment, the lady's face became stark pale. "Oh dear," she began anxiously. "You're the one with the daughter..."

Just then, Craig came into the office behind Sarah and the lady's face grew even more alarmed.

"I-I-I am so sorry," she professed shakily, nervously gesturing behind the counter. "If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask."

"I want to know what happened," Sarah demanded.

"Of course," the lady intoned sympathetically. "Will you hold on a moment?" She disappeared briefly behind a corner. When she returned, she was accompanied by a tall man in a black pinstriped suit. Sarah guessed that he was the principal, making an appearance so as to discourage her from filing a lawsuit.

"Miss Harley," he greeted her warmly, clamping his hands around hers as to console her. "My name is Eric Burns and I am the principal here at Crestside Elementary. I just want to thank you so much for coming down here to talk with us personally. I know how hard this must be for you."

"Do you?" Sarah asked precipitously, not caring about sounding rude. Burns did a double take, looking deeply flustered.

"Oh, forgive me," he implored apologetically, hastening to correct himself. "I couldn't possibly know that." He paused for a moment, meeting her livid face with a certain educated assuredness. "But I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to help you. The school is always behind you Sarah."

"Can you show me where Emily was last?" Sarah asked feeling annoyed.

"Yes, certainly, right this way."

The three of them stood in silence while the rain drenched their clothes and tickled their skin. They were standing out in front of the playground behind the school. Craig had his arms crossed, and was frowning. Sarah stared ahead emphatically, overcome by a sudden deep sadness. She imagined in her head a dozen kids running, climbing, jumping and screaming. But there were no kids. The playground was barren and wet. The swing set was empty; the chains glistened under a film of water. Mr. Burns offered to get her an umbrella but she refused.

"Like I said, there is always someone out here to watch the kids," Mr. Burns said despondently, making a meaningless gesture toward the playground.

"So then what happened?" Craig inquired reluctantly, taking Sarah's silence as a cue to speak up.

Ignoring Craig, Mr. Burns turned to Sarah and said quietly, "I was told the teacher had left just for a minute. When she came back, your daughter was gone. We notified you as soon as we could. The raincoat was discovered a half hour later in the parking lot, at which time we promptly called the police and relayed to them your emergency contact information."

"And nobody saw anything?" Craig spoke up again, feeling slightly indignant that his present authority was going unnoticed.

"No, nobody saw anything. As I mentioned before, the parking lot is usually jam-packed during recess because it is the last session of the day. And parents are usually out front waiting for their kids," Mr. Burns explained in desperation.

"What about the other kids?" Craig persisted, looking back at the school.

"Well, unfortunately, we have a common recess for grades one and two. From two thirty to three, there can be anywhere from forty to fifty kids out here. We do it to encourage socialization, but the drawback of course is that things can get a bit out of control." Mr. Burns explained ruefully.

Craig muttered something about incompetence under his breath.

Sarah felt like crying. On the way to the school, she had for some inexplicable reason felt hopeful, like she was closer to finding Emily somehow. Now, looking out on the deserted playground gave her a terrible chill; she was sure that she would never see her daughter again.

After they went back inside, Eric Burns unceremoniously cornered Sarah in his office and begged her not to press charges against the school for negligence. She gave him a dark look and left the building. He followed her to the entrance and stood watching in his soaked pinstriped suit as the police cruiser pulled out of the parking lot and sped off down the street.

When Sarah got home, she broke down into tears. Feeling awkward, Craig made to put his arm around her to comfort her but she said she needed to be alone. He started to move towards the door when he saw something that made him jump. Sarah heard the doorknob turn and swung around. She froze. Emily was standing in the doorway. Her skin was dead pale and her long black hair matted in a web over her face.

"Oh my god," Sarah cried. She flew down the stairs and scooped her trembling daughter up into her arms. Craig stood aside in astonishment.

"I thought I had lost you," she said through tears, kissing Emily firmly on the forehead.

Emily was silent. After awhile she said, "Mommy it's alright. I'm home."

* * *

The police were amazed to hear that Emily Harley had showed up, unharmed and in good spirit. Sarah called the detective right away to tell him the good news.

Emily told her mother that a strange man came to the playground in the back of the school that day. Emily was still naive about strangers so she approached the man to ask him if he wanted to play. The man took hold of Emily's hand and walked her to his van. Emily struggled when the man tried to force her into the backseat. During her struggle, her raincoat came off. The man drove away from the school with Emily in the back. After awhile, he noticed that Emily wasn't crying. He asked her if she was scared and she shook her head. The man got angry and made Emily get out of his van. After that, she tried to walk home. But she got lost, so it took her a long time to find her way back.

"Well, I'll be damned," the detective exclaimed with a hearty laugh. "Never in my eighteen years of work have I encountered something like this."

After the whole thing was over, Sarah decided to move Emily out of the city and find her a new school. They had only been in their home for a little over three months, but Sarah had never liked it anyway. Aside from the location, she felt that it was too small and that the street they lived on would always be a danger because of the traffic. Her mother, having heard the story of Emily's abduction over the phone, urged them to come and stay with her until she and Emily got situated. Sarah liked this proposal because her parents lived just a few miles from the city. She would be fulfilling the nagging desire she had to get Emily away from the hectic comings and goings that punctuated city life. And her parents' house was only a short commute from her work.

On Saturday, Sarah rented a moving van and spent the day pulling furniture out onto the lawn. For a woman in her mid thirties, she was remarkably strong. Working by herself in the torrid spring heat, while Emily watched curiously from a window, she managed to haul nearly all of their furniture to a nearby storage garage in the city that she had leased earlier. She packed the rest of their belongings into the back of the minivan. As they drove away from the house that evening, Sarah looked out the car window and thought for the first time about their neighbors. The two houses on either side of theirs appeared still and serene in the moonlight. She laughed to herself. It had just occurred to her that they had come and gone without having ever met them.

Sarah's mother's place was a large, two-story, emerald green Victorian home, which sat removed from the road in a small wooded area. The yard was well kept, and there were a number flowers growing under the porch. A winding gravel path, neatly manicured at the edges, ran up to the front steps. When they arrived, Sarah tried to cheer Emily up by telling her how much fun they were going to have there.

"She has a swimming pool in the back. And she has two dogs and a cat," Sarah encouraged.

"Really?" Emily asked with interest. She had been quiet for most of the drive. Sarah remembered how timid Emily had been for the first week following their move to the house in the city.

They got out of the car, Emily carrying her teddy bear and Sarah a bottle of wine, and rang the door bell. A slender gray-haired woman with stylish silver glasses and a white sweater answered the door.

"Hi mom," Sarah said smiling.

"Oh, you got here early!" her mother cried, hugging her daughter tightly. "And who is this? I don't recognize you." She said jokingly, making a face at Emily. Emily giggled.

"You remember Grandma Anne, don't you Emily?" Sarah teased.

"Yes," Emily said, blushing slightly. She was always so adorable around people.

"Please, come in, come in," Anne said, beckoning them inside.

They left the porch and entered the house, the scent of daffodils, tulips and orchids trailing behind them.

"I brought you a little something," Sarah said, holding up the bottle of wine. It was a Spanish merlot, her mother's favorite.

"You're such a dear," Anne said, taking the bottle and disappearing into the kitchen. "I hope the two of you are hungry."

Sarah and Emily followed Anne into the kitchen. It was well lit and incredibly spacious. In the center was an island with a sink and surrounding it was a massive stove, two additional sinks, a dishwasher, and a plethora of cupboards. The counters were filled with assorted jars and shiny appliances. And a gigantic two-door refrigerator loomed at the far side.

And over in the corner there was a cozy little breakfast nook.

"It looks bigger than it did at Thanksgiving," Sarah joked, admiring the place. "I hope you didn't tidy up on account of us."

"Oh no," her mother said absentmindedly, bending over to remove something from the oven. "I baked lasagna. I couldn't remember if Emily was allergic to dairy, so I used a soy substitute."

"Oh mom, you didn't have to do that," Sarah affirmed graciously, leaning over her mother's shoulder. "Smells good."

"Can I get you something to drink? I think your father has some beer in here somewhere." Anne was rummaging through the fridge.

"I'll take a beer. Thanks."

The three of them ate in the dinning room, which was also remarkably big. Sarah and her mother immediately picked up conversation. They talked about life, her job, and eventually her relationships or lack thereof. Emily sat between them, quietly eating her dinner.

"I'm just saying, it's not normal for a middle aged woman like yourself to be without a husband," Anne reproached, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "You're thirty-eight, Sarah. It's time you started dating again."

"I'm thirty-six," Sarah retorted, taking a swig of her beer.

"My point is you take your job too seriously."

"My job is serious."

"So is this. When was the last time you went out?"

"On a date? Jeez, I don't know."

"Well, there you go. You're too uptight. You need to take a break, live a little. And for Christ sake, find yourself a boyfriend."

"Mom, I don't need a boyfriend. I'm doing just fine."

"Sarah, I'm warning you, not having sex for that long is hazardous to your health."

"Mother!" Sarah exclaimed disapprovingly, covering Emily's ears. Her mom had always been liberal about the subject of sex in particular. It was mildly ironic because she happened to be conservative about everything else.

Emily looked up from her plate blankly.

"Well she's getting to that age after all," Anne stated matter-of-factly.

"Well she won't be learning about it from you, that's for sure," Sarah announced sternly, thinking back to the time when her mother had divulged to her in most inappropriate detail how sex was performed.

"Well, it was the seventies after all."

After dinner, Sarah helped her mom with the dishes while Emily explored the house. After touring the living room, which was furnished with an expensive-looking couch, two colorful sofa chairs and a flat screen TV, she headed upstairs. Grandma's house was much nicer than their old house, Emily thought. She found three rooms upstairs. She poked her head into each one. The first one had a humungous bed, a nice looking dresser, and a large window that offered a view of the backyard. The second one was the bathroom. And the third one was nearly empty, save for a few boxes stacked up against the wall. Then Emily found a fourth room at the end of the hallway; inside there was a normal-sized bed, and on the other side of it a window overlooking the driveway. And at the far end there was a closet.

Downstairs Sarah was talking to her mom in the kitchen.

"I have to go meet with the appraiser tomorrow," she said distractedly, placing a handful of utensils into the sink which was filled with soapy water. Her hands were covered in suds. "Do you mind watching Emily for a little while?"

Anne scoffed at Sarah and said in a sardonic voice, "Do I mind watching my grand daughter? As it is, I only get to see her twice a year."

Sarah laughed, rinsing a batch of forks and tossing them into the dishwasher. "Well that's settled then," she said.

"Oh don't you worry about it, we'll have loads of fun together," Anne added, drying her hands with a wash cloth. "It will just be the two of us, until James gets back Sunday anyway."

"Where did he go to anyway?" Sarah asked curiously, stowing an ornate bowl in the back of dishwasher behind the plates.

"Oh honey, you have to handwash those," Anne advised knowingly. Remembering the question, she said, "Oh, you know your father. He had to fly to Tokyo on a business trip."

Sarah's dad was the director of public relations for a well-known telecommunications company. He could speak five different languages.

After the dishes were washed, Sarah unpacked the minivan. She had brought all of her and Emily's clothes over in a single black garbage bag, which she carried upstairs. She found Emily lying on a bed in the room at the end of the hall.

"Well, it looks like somebody has made herself at home," Sarah said playfully.

Emily rolled over on the bed, grinning. Sarah lay beside her daughter and whispered, "You like it here?"

Emily nodded.

Together, they unpacked their clothes and placed them neatly in the closet. Sarah went back downstairs to get the rest of the stuff out of the car. Emily watched her mother from the window.

When Sarah returned she was carrying a box of photographs. She set it down in the corner, taking one of the photos out and hanging it on the wall. After that she flopped down onto the bed and let out a sigh of relief. It had been a long day.

Emily was now facing her, looking sheepish.

"Have you brushed your teeth?" Sarah asked, eyeing her daughter suspiciously.

Emily smiled guiltily.

"Well then go do it," Sarah directed, pointing towards the door.

* * *

That night Emily had trouble sleeping. She kept tossing around fitfully, trying to get comfortable. Finally, she opened her eyes. The room was dark. Outside the window she could see the moon hanging low above the trees. She climbed out from under the blankets and tiptoed around the bed, where her mother was fast asleep. Opening the bedroom door slowly, she crept out into the hallway. Emily knew the reason she couldn't sleep; she had forgotten to bring up her teddy bear.

She descended the stairs, cautiously placing her foot down on each step so as not to wake anyone. When she reached the landing, she looked around. Emily remembered that she had left her teddy bear in the dining room. The house was difficult to navigate in the dark; the only light was a thin strip that shone down from between the living room curtains, following a contour line across the furniture. She slinked across the living room, through the kitchen, then into the dinning room. She found her teddy bear lying on the floor by the table.

Slipping back into the room upstairs, she proceeded to climb onto the bed. Her mother was still sleeping soundlessly. She had one leg off the floor when her eyes caught sight of the picture on the wall, the one that her mother had put up the evening before. Something compelled her to go and look at it. It was a framed photo of a little girl, with sleek black hair and a bright smile. It was her, Emily thought proudly. Then something happened. Emily watched in horror as the picture changed; the smile on the girl's face faded and her hair receded into her skull. Then two strange looking eyes popped into the girl's face, to replace Emily's. Emily gasped. The face had taken on a strange contortion. She now looked more like...a boy!

Emily was frightened. She glanced around the room frantically. It was still night-time. Her mother had turned over onto her side, her face now buried in a pillow. She looked back at the photo. Hesitating for a moment, she ripped it down from the wall and bolted for the door. She had to get rid of it. Emerging out into the hall once again, she was blinded momentarily by the light that now flooded from the bathroom doorway. She ducked behind the upper banister and watched as her Grandmother staggered sleepily back into her room and closed the door. She waited for a moment to make sure the coast was clear. Then she flew down the stairs, sliding precariously on her pajama bottoms, and went out the front door.

Emily was standing on the lawn outside the house. The air was cold. She could feel herself getting goose bumps. The forest encircling the house droned with the sound of crickets chirping. Emily thought she heard Grandma's dogs rustling in the bushes. Then she remembered why she was outside, and saw the picture frame clenched in her hand. She sprinted across the lawn, past the driveway, until she reached the trees. She pushed past a wall of prickly bushes and sharp branches, finding herself enclosed in a thicket of dense bramble. Then she squatted down and started digging. The earth was cold and rough. She had trouble penetrating it with her tiny fingers. After what seemed like forever, she finally produced a hole. She held the picture out in front of her so that it was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. The same terrible face stared back at her. She placed it in the hole and started covering it up with dirt.

The moonlight followed Emily as she returned to the house. She edged through the front door and locked it behind her. She felt tired. Quietly, she ascended the stairs once more and crept back into her room. She paused briefly as she passed the window overlooking the front yard. Then she climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up. After a moment, she shut her eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

Emily awoke the next morning to a gentle nudge. Her mother was sitting up in bed, looking down at her.

"Good morning, sunshine," She said cheerfully. Then a puzzled look came across her face. "Is that a leaf in your hair?"

Emily sat bolt upright. The events of last night came rushing back into her memory, causing her to feel panic. Her face turned bright red.

"Honey, are you alright?" Sarah asked, looking a bit worried. She felt her daughter's forehead to see if she had a fever.

"I'm fine, mommy," Emily lied. She felt bad about lying to her mother. It wasn't like her at all.

Sarah plucked the leaf from Emily's hair and said, "C'mon then, let's get you a bath."

Emily sat alone in the bathtub, staring at her toes which crested right above the screen of bubbles. She lifted one leg up out of the water and let the water on her leg trickle back down into the froth. She continued her play in the tub, seeing how much of her body she could bear to expose to the cool air before splashing back down into the warm water. By the time her mother had come to get her out, she had completely forgotten about the picture from last night.

"Feel better?" Sarah asked expectantly, drying Emily off with a towel.

"Yep," Emily said cheerfully, lifting her hair out of her face.

Sarah helped her daughter get dressed and the two of them headed downstairs into the kitchen. Anne was already up and busy cooking breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted from the stove.

"Hey darling," Anne said without turning around. She was prodding some eggs with a spatula. After she thought they looked satisfactory, she glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, and you brought company."

Emily beamed.

The three of them sat down at the small table in the kitchen to eat their breakfast. Emily chewed happily on a piece of bacon while Sarah scanned the newspaper.

"Anything amazing happen today?" Her mother asked in a playfully dramatic voice. She winked at Emily.

"Well that depends," Sarah started, acknowledging her mother's sarcasm, "on whether you consider mankind's degradation of their natural environment amazing. They've finalized plans for a new mall in the city."

Sarah folded up the news paper. Taking a sip of orange juice, she looked at her watch.

"I'm late," She said. She got up and headed for the door and then turned around, apparently having remembered something.

"Oh, Emily, sweety, I almost forgot to tell you. Mommy has to go take care of some business at the house so Grandma is going to look after you, alright?" Sarah said kissing her daughter on the forehead.

Emily, who was still working on her breakfast, had just bitten off a large chunk of egg. She looked up at her mom and made a sound to show her that she understood.

"How adorable," Sarah remarked as she raced out of the house. Emily heard the minivan pulling out of the driveway.

"So," Anne said suggestively, looking across the table at Emily, "what are we going to do today?"

"Can we play a game?" Emily asked hopefully, swallowing a piece of egg.

Anne patted Emily on the head and said, "You bet."

Emily liked Anne a lot. She seemed young even though she looked old, like a kid in a grownup's body. She and Emily had agreed to play hide and seek. Anne was downstairs in the living room, her hands over her face, counting loudly. Emily snuck upstairs.

At first Emily couldn't decide where she wanted to hide. The door to Anne's room was open, so she went in there. Her eyes followed a path across the bedroom, stopping first at the closet, then at the space under the bed, and finally at the dresser on the far left.

Anne finished counting downstairs. "Ready or not, here I come," she yelled light-heartedly. She checked behind the furniture in the living room. Then she looked in all the downstairs closets. Finding Emily nowhere, she headed upstairs. Anne had a suspicion that Emily was in her room so she went inside. Sidling up to the closet door, she tore it open yelling, "Ah ha!" There were miscellaneous clothes and shoes, but no Emily. She moved slowly toward the bed. "Where could she be?" Anne said tongue-in-cheek. In a swift motion, she bent down and checked under the bed. There were a couple rogue socks, a book, and a crumpled up piece of paper. Anne stood up, feeling slightly let down by her lack of intuition. Then she spotted the dresser in the corner of the room. Something was moving behind it. She walked stealthily across the room and kneeled beside it, listening. Then without warning she whipped around and peeked behind it. She let out a cry. The cat came scurrying out from under the dresser. It bounded off Anne's leg and skirted out the door.

"Jesus Christ," Anne exclaimed, her heart racing.

She stood up, looking around the room puzzled. She returned to the hallway and proceeded to check the other rooms. She looked in the bathroom, thinking that Emily might be hiding in the bathtub. Pulling the shower curtains to one side, she frowned at the empty tub. Next she looked in the room that Emily and Sarah were staying in but she found it to be empty. There was only one room left to check.

"Surprise!" Anne shouted, bursting into the third room at the end of the hall. Her eyes immediately fell on a box that was sitting conspicuously in the center of the room. She opened it. Inside, Anne found something disturbing.

Emily was hiding under the dining room table. She had rushed back downstairs before Anne had finished counting. At one point, her Grandmother had walked right past her. Emily couldn't believe she hadn't seen her.

After awhile, she got tired of hiding and crawled out from under the table. She found her Grandmother standing at the top of the stairs.

"I win," she called out delightedly.

Anne feigned a smile. "Good job," she praised, though something else was on her mind.

* * *

When Sarah returned later that afternoon, Emily and Anne were in the back of the house by the swimming pool. Emily was getting ready to dive in as Sarah walked onto the patio.

"Mommy!" Emily exclaimed excitedly.

"Hey honey, how was your day with Grandma?" Sarah asked eagerly, giving her daughter a hug.

"We had fun."

"Great."

Anne was sunning herself by the pool. Sarah sat down in a lawn chair beside her.

"How did the appraisal go?" Anne questioned, positioning her hand above her face to block out the sun.

"Alright," Sarah began indifferently. "We're probably not going to get as much as I had imagined, but he said it would sell."

After Emily finished swimming, the three of them went inside. Sarah and Emily retired to the living room to play a card game. Anne was preparing lunch in the kitchen.

"Do you have a three, dear?" Emily entreated her mother, acting all grownup. Emily would always pretend to be mature whenever she and Sarah played a game, solved a puzzle, or engaged in any other activity together. Sarah thought it was cute.

"No, go fish," Sarah replied. She thought for moment, looking over her cards. "Do you have a seven?"

Emily appeared downtrodden. She paused for a moment, and then relinquished one of her cards, placing it at Sarah's feet.

"Why thank you," Sarah gloated.

Just then Anne called from the kitchen. Sarah got up, setting her cards face down on the floor. When Sarah was gone, Emily peeked at her cards.

"What's up?" Sarah asked, standing beside her mother.

Anne was cutting up lettuce for sandwiches. She had eight pieces of bread stacked on the counter. One by one, she removed each slice and doused it with mayonnaise and mustard; on top of that, she put meat, cheese, lettuce and tomato.

"Oh, no mayonnaise on mine please," Sarah said, before her mother could answer her question. "And remember..."

"No cheese for Emily," Anne finished her sentence.

"Right. So was there something you wanted to tell me?"

Anne finished preparing the sandwiches, setting them all onto a large platter.

"James' flight has been delayed. He won't get into the airport until eight o'clock," She explained, wiping her hands off on a paper towel.

"Want me to go pick him up?" Sarah offered. Anne smiled.

"Would you dear? It's just my eyes are getting bad so I can't drive in the dark very well."

Sarah knew that her mother could see perfectly well in the dark. But she was also aware that she hadn't seen her father in over a year because he had been away on business during the last two holidays when she came up to their house to visit. Anne always had a clever way of getting Sarah to do what she thought was best for her.

"Yeah, not a problem," Sarah said assuringly. She turned to head back into the living room when Anne caught her by the arm.

"Oh," she said, "there's one more thing. Can I have a word with you upstairs?"

* * *

Sarah held the stuffed animal in her hands. She didn't know what to make of it. Her mother was looking over her shoulder anxiously.

"Do you think she's upset about the move?" Anne asked worriedly.

Sarah frowned. "I can't believe Emily would do something like this."

"I found it this afternoon when we were playing hide and seek. It was in a box in your old room." Anne said.

The two of them were looking at Emily's teddy bear, which had been run through with a pair of scissors.

"I'll be sure to talk to her tonight about this," Sarah said.

* * *

At a quarter till seven, Sarah threw on her jacket to go pick up her father up from the airport. Emily was still in the living room, playing solitaire. Anne sat on the couch behind her, casually watching Emily on the floor while the television blared in the background.

"I should be back by nine," Sarah suggested, standing by the door. "If not, I'll call."

"Ok darling," Anne called out from the living room. A few seconds later, Emily came dashing into the entrance hall.

"Bye mommy!" She said, hugging her mother's leg out of tradition. She then resumed her card game on the floor.

"Bye sweety." Sarah disappeared out the door.

The lights from the minivan shone briefly through the living room window and then went away.

After awhile Emily got bored with her card game and snuggled up next to her Grandmother on the couch. Anne was searching through the channels on the TV. She paused when she arrived at one channel. It was a horror movie. She was about to change it when she noticed Emily's immediate fascination with the screen.

There were a couple people in a room discussing something. The looks on their faces suggested a tense atmosphere.

"They are all going to be deformed!" The man on the screen was saying.

"Excuse me! That's not true. There's no reason to believe that," a woman said.

The lady who was talking look troubled. There was another woman with her. She was pregnant.

Emily had crawled up to the edge of the couch to get a better view.

"The standard tests have not revealed one abnormality," the same woman said. The other woman looked like she was frightened about something.

Anne turned off the TV.

"Sorry dear," she said regretfully, "but that movie is too scary. How about we play a game instead?"

* * *

Sarah's minivan pulled up to the driveway at a quarter till nine. She was back early. Anne and Emily had come to the front door to greet the new arrival.

A short but handsome looking man, with grizzled hair and a short beard was walking up the gravel path to the house, followed closely by Sarah.

"James!" Anne cried from the porch. She met her husband halfway to the house and embraced him. The two of them kissed.

Emily was still standing on the porch. Sarah held out her hands, indicating that she should come to her.

"Emily," Sarah instructed, "say 'hi' to Grandpa."

Releasing his wife, James Harley picked up Emily and swung her up into the air. She screamed excitedly. "My have you grown!" He said grinning. Emily chortled. Setting her back down he said, "you were only this tall when I saw you last." He held up his hand some arbitrary distance from the ground.

"C'mon, let's get inside," Anne said, feeling a cool breeze.

Emily thought James was fascinating. They were all sitting around the kitchen table. Anne got up to prepare some coffee. Sarah went to help her.

"So how old are you now anyways?" James queried Emily at the table.

"Seven," Emily said confidently.

"Seven, eh?" James repeated, furrowing his brow. "When's your birthday?"

"Oh dad, you know when it is," Sarah intervened, bringing him a cup of coffee.

James smiled slightly. "That I do, but I wanted to see if she knew."

Sarah's father was at times stubbornly analytical. Sarah and Anne agreed that he most likely picked that up from his job. But the man was also a wonderful conversationalist, so he tended to got along well with most people.

"It's Feb-," Emily started, "I mean it's April. April seventeenth."

James looked at her questionably, "You sure?"

"James," Anne reprimanded her husband from the counter. She was in the middle of pouring cream into her coffee.

Sarah couldn't help but laugh. "That's my father."

The four of them talked for awhile. Sarah told her father about how she was selling her house in the city. She also retold the story of Emily's kidnapping to which James was deeply troubled about.

"What is this world coming to," he said rhetorically when she finished.

Anne took a sip of her coffee but said nothing.

At midnight, Sarah's parents decided to turn in. James went upstairs and unpacked, followed shortly after by his wife. Emily and Sarah were the only ones in the kitchen.

"Want me to make you some hot chocolate?" Sarah asked her daughter pleasingly.

"Sure," Emily said.

"Hey, there's something I want to talk to you about," Sarah started, pulling the milk out of the fridge and pouring some into a glass.

Emily sat quietly at the table.

"You know your teddy bear?"

Emily remained silent.

"Well, I found him today. And I can't say he looked very happy."

Sarah poured the hot cocoa mix into the cup and turned to put it in the microwave. When she looked back, Emily was crying. Sarah went over to comfort her daughter.

"It's alright, honey, it's alright," She repeated, holding Emily against her chest and softly stroking her head. "Do you want to tell me anything?"

Emily kept crying. Then she said, "It's not me, mommy."

Sarah was confused. "What do you mean, honey?"

The microwave beeped. Sarah got up to get the hot chocolate and set it down in front of Emily. Emily grasped the glass with both hands and took a sip.

"What do you mean, Emily?" Sarah asked again.

Emily paused. She appeared to be thinking very hard. Then she said, "It was the twilight boy."

Sarah was taken aback. "What's that? Honey, I don't understand."

Emily sniffled. Sarah could tell this was very hard on her and she almost wished she hadn't brought it up.

"I've seen him, mommy. During the night." Emily sounded frightened.

It was obvious to Sarah that Emily was tired. She had no doubt dreamed up this "twilight boy" Sarah thought, though she did find it peculiar that she knew what the word twilight meant.

After Emily finished her hot chocolate, Sarah said, "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

* * *

That night Emily had trouble sleeping again. She had a nightmare. In her nightmare, she had gone back to her old school. She was standing in the playground all alone. She tried to go back into the school, but all the doors were chained shut. Suddenly she heard a voice. It was her voice, it was talking to her. But she couldn't understand the words. It sounded like they were from a different language. Then she saw him, and in her dream she began to cry.

Emily woke up. She was sweating. It was dark. She felt the bed to her right to see if her mother was there. She was. She grabbed onto her arm and cinched it gently, inching up next to her.

"Mommy," She whispered, tugging at her mother's arm.

Sarah woke up with a start. "Is everything alright, honey?"

"I had a bad dream," Emily whispered slowly.

Sarah rolled over to face her daughter and began cuddling her. Emily felt safe in her mother's arms. After a little while, she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.

* * *

The morning came quickly, or at least that's what it felt like for Sarah. She opened her eyes. Outside the window it was still dark. She checked her watch; it was six fifty-two. She had to be to work by eight.

Sarah climbed out of bed, taking care not to wake Emily. She went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She noticed that there was a red crayon on the floor. Emily must have dropped it she thought quickly, getting undressed. She got into the shower. The water was still warming up, but she didn't have time to wait.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Sarah prepared a simple breakfast of toast and herbal tea. She liked drinking tea in the mornings instead of coffee because it gave her more energy during the day. She ate the toast quickly and drained the cup of tea. It was seven forty. She left the kitchen to check her briefcase. Then she hurried back, looking for a pen and a piece of paper to write a note for Emily.

At seven fifty-eight, there was a scream at the Harley's house. Anne was sitting up in bed, her hand clasped to her mouth. James woke up alarmed. It took him a second to realize what his wife was screaming at.

On the wall opposite the master bed, there was scrawled in big red letters the words "Die Bitch".

Sarah was pulling up to her office when she got a call on her cell phone. It was Anne. She was scared.

"I don't know what to do," she said finally. She sounded like she was crying. Sarah tried to calm her down.

"Mom, I promise you Emily would never do something like that. She must not be in her right mind." She paused, trying to think it all through. "Listen, I'm going to be home by five. Just take her downstairs for now. Let her watch TV or something. When I get home, I'll talk to her."

* * *

Sarah's appointment with her client ran late but unfortunately she couldn't call home because the battery in her cell phone had died. She didn't get home until a quarter till six. Pulling into the driveway, she noticed that her dad's convertible was gone. It had been there when she had left that morning. Her parents only owned one car because her mom generally stayed at home.

Sarah stood at the front door with her hands on her hips. She had just realized that she didn't have a key to get into the house. She walked around to the backyard. Her mother's dogs greeted her by barking hysterically. They were both male Labradors. One of them was white, the other brown.

"Get down," Sarah yelled firmly when they came to jump up on her. The brown one decided not to be denied and jabbed her with his two front paws, smearing mud all over her suit. Sarah didn't like dogs. She especially didn't like these dogs.

Sarah tried the sliding glass door. It was locked. Then she tried the door behind the garage, but it was also locked. She peered through one of the kitchen windows. She could see the living room, and part of the dining room. The living room was in disarray. Sarah wondered what was going on.

* * *

At six thirty-five, her dad's car pulled into the driveway. Sarah was sitting on the front porch, her suit covered in mud, and her briefcase propped under her elbow as an armrest. James got out of the car, and then he let Emily out of the backseat. Anne was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's mom?" Sarah asked alarmed.

Her father didn't say anything at first. He was pulling Emily along by the arm. "Come inside," he said finally.

The three of them went inside. Sarah turned to her dad and said, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Your mother isn't well," James said grimly. "She had a heart attack."

Sarah was shocked. All of sudden, it felt as if she couldn't breathe. "Is she alright?" She managed to say finally, looking deeply worried.

"Yes, she'll be fine," James assured her. This whole time he had kept remarkably calm. Her father was like that. "I drove her to the hospital myself. You know how it takes those damn paramedics hours to find this place."

Sarah had a sudden flash back. She was eight years old, and her mother had just pulled her out of the swimming pool. Anne still had all of her clothes on so she was soaking wet. She remembered vaguely that she had almost died because it took the paramedics forever to reach her.

"Yeah, I know," Sarah said thoughtfully.

All of a sudden, Sarah remembered that Emily was there, standing in the entrance way. She thought about how scary it must have been for her to see her Grandmother have a heart attack.

Her father seemed to have read her mind and said, "I had to take Emily with us. She handled the whole thing incredibly well, I must say."

Sarah grabbed her daughter and hugged her tightly.

"You alright, honey?" She asked concernedly.

Emily nodded. Sarah hugged her again.

It was completely quiet when the three of them sat down for dinner that evening. Anne being at the hospital meant that Sarah was required to cook. This was no trouble however as she had prepared meals for Emily many times before. She ended up making spaghetti and meatballs, carefully making sure that Emily's plate didn't have any cheese on it.

Her father took a couple bites of his dinner and said rather unexpectedly, "Sarah, you've always been a good person."

Sarah blushed. "No I haven't," she said modestly.

James turned to Emily, "And what about you? What do you think about your mother?" He seemed to be trying to lighten the mood or something to that effect.

Emily mumbled something with her mouth full of noodles. Her voice sounded distinctly funny. Sarah and her dad laughed. It was amazing how quickly people could forget about their troubles when they were distracted, Sarah thought.

After dinner, Sarah stayed in the kitchen to wash dishes. Emily had agreed to help her but had apparently forgotten her promise because she was nowhere to be seen. After Sarah was done, she suddenly remembered something. She was supposed to talk to Emily about the message she had written on her parents' wall. It had somehow slipped her mind when her father had broken the news to her about her mom. She wondered why James hadn't said anything about it at dinner.

On her way upstairs, Sarah noticed that the living room was a complete mess. There were papers scattered around the coffee table. And the couch had been taken apart; the cushions lay crumpled on the floor. It looked as if somebody had been looking for something.

She was halfway up the stairs when she heard someone talking.

"Je suis desole que je ne puisse pas iªtre avec vous toujours."A voice said.

It sounded like French, Sarah thought. Then she heard another voice. This time it was her father.

"Ce n'est pas important. Ce qui est important est notre amour." James was saying.

She stopped suddenly on the staircase. A wave of confusion came over her. The only other person in the house besides her was Emily. That couldn't possibly be Emily talking to her dad, she thought. Emily didn't speak French.

She climbed the rest of the stairs slowly, trying not to make any noise. For some inexplicable reason, she felt that she needed to be quiet. Once she had reached the top of the stairs, she scanned the hallway. She heard her father again. Crouching, she crept along the hall way, trying to figure out which room he was in.

"E*tes-vous si»rs qu'elle est partie?" James said from somewhere up ahead.

Sarah stopped outside her old room. Her father's voice was coming from within. She cracked the door and peered inside. James was standing inside the room with his back towards her. Sarah waited for something to happen. After a minute had gone by, she started to feel ridiculous for spying on him; here she was, a thirty-six year old woman crouching in the upstairs hallway of her parents house. She was about to walk into the room and confront him when she heard something that made her stop.

"Emily est morte." A voice said. It was the same voice that she had heard on the stairs.

Sarah didn't know much French, but she understood that. The voice had said Emily is dead.

She craned her head to see who the voice belonged to.

"Et sa mi¨re sera bienti´t aussi." The voice spoke again. It was Emily. Emily was speaking French!

Sarah couldn't believe her eyes. Emily was standing against the far wall. Her long black hair looked like it had been recently cut. There were clumps of hair all over the floor. Emily was holding a pair of scissors in her hands.

"Qu'allons-nous faire d'elle?" James said. He sounded worried.

"Vous avez un fusil de chasse dans le garage. Tuez-la." Emily replied promptly. She sounded so different, like she was straining her voice.

James was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Oui, j'irai l'acquii¨rent maintenant."

Sarah kept thinking that she was dreaming. She felt like she was going to wake up any second. How could this be her daughter? She thought. What the hell was going on here? She stayed glued to the crack in the door, unable to look away. Then James spun around to leave the room. He reached for the doorknob.

Panicking, Sarah searched for a hiding place. Without thinking, she dashed into the room behind her. It was the room she and Emily had been staying in. The sheets were still ruffled from last night.

Sarah pressed her ear to the door and listened. She could hear footsteps. Someone was going downstairs, she thought to herself.

Sarah's heart was beating fast. I need to calm down, she thought. But it was hopeless. She was scared and her body wasn't willing to be persuaded. God damn it, she thought again, if I don't calm down, I'm going to have a fucking heart attack like my mother.

In her desperation, Sarah looked around the room for anything that might provide her some sort of solace. There was an empty soda can on the window sill. On the floor, there was a sock. The walls were empty. The walls were empty, she thought.

* * *

Outside, the sky was growing dark. Storm clouds were moving in. Oblivious to the signs of coming rain, James Harley marched with a strange determination towards the garage.

Inside, it was black. The air smelled of oil. James hit a switch. A single light came on, illuminating many stacks of old tools, assorted paint cans and cardboard boxes. Many of the items on the shelves were covered in dust. On the ceiling and in the corners, there were arching cobwebs.

James navigated the oil-stained floor, stepping over a pile of discarded tires along the way. He stopped in front of a large black chest. It had a combination lock on it. After fiddling with the lock for a moment, there was a clicking sound. He opened the case and pulled out the thing he had been looking for.

* * *

Sarah couldn't take it any longer. She had no clue what was going on but she felt like her life was in danger. Her cell phone was in her pocket. It's dead, she thought despairingly. Then she remembered that she had charged it before dinner, in hopes of calling her mom at the hospital. She got it out and dialed the police. The call wouldn't go through; a light on her phone indicated that she wasn't getting any service. She looked out the window. There were storm clouds in the sky.

"Shit," Sarah cursed under her breath.

The front door opened. Sarah heard someone coming up the stairs. Then it was quiet. She listened intently, holding her breath. There was a voice. Someone was shouting. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. She cracked the bedroom door so she could hear better.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy. Help me!" The voice was shouting. It sounded like Emily, her Emily.

She leapt to her feet screaming, "Mommy is coming!"

No sooner had she opened the bedroom door, there was a deafening crack and the window opposite the doorway exploded into a million shards of glass, taking the frame clean off. Her legs already in full motion, she came sliding out of the room. Her father was standing at the top of the stairs across the way, looking directly at her. He was holding a shotgun. The barrel was still smoking.

Instinctively, Sarah dove back into the bedroom. There was another shot. It hit the bed. She opened her eyes. The air was filled with tiny feathers. She was lying on the floor, behind the wall. She was too scared to move, let alone breathe.

"Sarah, darling," James said in a demented tone, "are you still alive?"

Sarah started crying. Her own father was trying to kill her. This can't be happening, she thought.

Then she heard footsteps. He was coming down the hall towards her. Like a wounded animal, she disregarded all rational thought and made for the window. She cut herself on the broken glass as she climbed through it. But Sarah hardly noticed the blood dripping from her hands and feet. She was running along the roof like a crazy person.

Sarah Harley had truly gone insane. She was zigzagging wildly across the top of her parents' house. Rain was pouring down now. The roof was slippery. She lost her footing, and proceeded to tumble. Another shot blared out from behind her. The shingles on which she had been standing only a moment ago exploded.

A myriad of colors flashed before Sarah's eyes as she landed with a splash into the swimming pool. She felt as if her body had become detached. She couldn't move her arms or her legs. She was weightless. Then she felt water seeping into her lungs. And she panicked for her life. In an instant, she regained control of her limbs and she kicked upwards with all her might. She came up out of the water, gasping for air.

Of all the things Sarah expected to find when she climbed out of the pool, her father lying motionless on the patio was not one of them. She stood there by the poolside, utterly stupefied. She couldn't think. Streams of blood and water cascaded down her trembling body. Behind her the pool was stained red. She felt like she was about to collapse, and then it registered.

James was dead. The kick from the shotgun had caused him to lose his footing too and, unlike Sarah, he had the misfortune of falling head first onto the concrete. Staring blankly at the lifeless body at her feet, Sarah could hardly believe that it was her father.

It took Sarah a few minutes to snap out of her stupor. When she finally did, the first thought to crease her mind was of Emily.

Sarah staggered to the sliding glass window, leaving a bloody hand print on the glass as she collapsed inside the house. She crawled the rest of the distance to the living room.

"Emily!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "Emily!"

Upon her bidding, Emily came into her view. She stood stiffly at the other side of the living room, here eyes alive with an unfamiliar hatred. She looked past her mother on the floor to the body outside by the pool. She said something. It was in French. Sarah started to cry for the umpteenth time.

"Please," she breathed, holding out her blood stained hands.

Emily teetered on the spot, as if trying to decide on an appropriate course of action. Sarah waited on the floor. All of sudden, Emily lunged at her dying mother. Her tiny hands clasped around Sarah's throat and she began to throttle her. Strangled by my own daughter, Sarah thought.

Sarah didn't try to defend herself. She was helpless against Emily's estranged eyes. She was starting to feel light headed. In a final act of desperation, she reached into her pocket and pulled something out. It was a small picture of Emily when she was five. She had found it in the box of photos while she was trapped in the bedroom upstairs. In the picture, she was smiling. Emily had always had such a beautiful smile. She held up the picture to show her attacker.

Emily let go of Sarah's neck. Sarah began to cough violently on the floor. Finally she caught her breath, and looked up. Her daughter's eyes had lost their malign gleam; instead, she looked calm. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"I love you mom," Emily whimpered, embracing her mother on the floor.

* * *

There were a dozen police cars, ambulances and fire trucks parked outside the Harley's house before nightfall. Sarah and her daughter were taken immediately to the hospital for medical treatment. What the police reporters later elicited from Sarah was the most intriguing and inconclusive crime story to ever grace the weekly newspapers.

In the ambulance, Emily told Sarah everything. She told her how the man who picked her up that one rainy day at school had actually been James, her father. She told her how he had come many times before. She told her how when she got really scared she would become somebody else. She told her how she remembered having two birthdays, and how one of them was in February. She told her how James had taught her to speak French. She told her how he had always called her "Le gari§on de declin du jour" when the two of them were alone together. She told her about all the things he had indirectly told her, thinking he was talking to the twilight boy. She told her how James had never really gone to Tokyo but had said so to slander Emily's credibility, incase she ever told her mother who had really kidnapped her. She told her how she had written everything down on a piece of paper and hid it under Anne's bed, hoping Anne would find it before her psychotic husband did. She told her how she had watched Sarah's father strangle his wife and bury her out in the woods. And finally she told her how James had threatened to force her to eat cheese if she ever talked to Sarah.

The doctor at the hospital told Sarah that Emily had Multiple Personality Disorder and recommended that she be placed in a mental institution for treatment. But Sarah already knew far more about her daughter's condition than anyone ever could. As such, she disregarded the doctor's advice and took Emily instead far away from the city. Before she left, she quit her job and liquidated her family's assets.

Before leaving her office in the city, one of Sarah's coworkers accosted her.

"So, where exactly are you planning on going?" he asked her.

"To a place in the mountains," she said simply, and then left.

[Ambrose]

Thanks a bunch for taking the time to read my story Skee.

I will definitely consider your advice. While I was writing this, I cared mostly about finishing it so I didn't stop to think whether a certain section might be nonessential. And you're absolutely right about the boyfriend. I never said anything about that, and in retrospect, I probably should have.

I'm very glad you thought the dialogue was convincing. Part of the reason why I could never finish a story until now was that I lacked the knowledge of how to construct meaningful dialogue. It can be tough. And it is often not very intuitive, at least not in writing; what I find helps is to put yourself in the shoes of that character. Sometimes it is really tricky, because I find myself unable to relate with a character, in a certain instance, but I try anyways.

I promise my next story won't be as long. Thanks again for the comments.

[Lubesh]

If it is good .length doesnt matter..keep writing.

[Storiesmaniac]

i rather enjoyed that one. good work.

[JirQUEST]

so we get the character history early in the story. the question is, do we really need them at that point? i get that you are trying to convey a mother's love right at the beginning, but would it have done better if she was reminiscing after her daughter's disappearance? on one hand, u get to throw in the boring parts in bits. on the other hand, u can use her memories to heighten her anxiety for her daughter. and dont get me wrong, but unless ur character had had a very very very eventful life, most backstory is really nothing to yell abt.

second thing i noticed early, you have tons of adverbs in your dialogue attribution. is it necessary? i personally try not to use it unless i feel that i really cant convey the message, which should come from the context above and below. again, it's the classic show, dont tell.

one thing i thought i should point out: ("When are you going to start looking for her?" Sarah interrupted, her voice full of urgency.)

we know that she interrupted because of the "-" above, and anyone with a missing daughter would be feeling an urgency to get things done instead of having questions thrown at.

i thought your descriptions was somewhat scant. because of this, the pace of the story seemed hurried. while i could visualise it easily, i would have loved to read more. for example, when u mentioned that sarah saw the hall was in disarray. it felt too simple.

the story really started picking up when emily saw that picture. i feel that u can insert more conflict into the beginning so it doesnt pale in comparison, because most of the times, people wont stick around for long to get to the scene with the picture. give us more hints about emily's multiple personality disorder. i thought it was kinda out of the blue because the thing about the birthday was really subtle.

which brings me to this... you explained everything at the end. it makes no difference to having a know-it-all character come on and tell us what actually happened. i think the effect will be much better if the clues were thrown all over the place. like how emily might shrink from talking to james and avoiding him. or how emily would explain to her mom about something in french on the tv. or even little details like the mud on james's boots when they "came back from the hospital". or the note under anne's bed... have sarah find it.

i liked the plot. it really caught my attention once the picture changed its face. but i feel that there is much to work on, particularly with description. throughout the story, i cant invoke in me the love that sarah felt for her daughter. u might wanna work on that. dialogue-wise, i would say u pretty much get the voices.

[edit] one other thing that i totally forgot about. when u wrote that something compelled emily to look at the picture, it was only because u made it so. make it more explicable. have her fall, or the picture dropping to the floor. this is what i got from one of the turkey city lexicon (writing tips) websites:

Fuzz - Element of motivation the author was too lazy to supply. The word "somehow" is an automatic tip-off to fuzzy areas of a story. "Somehow she forgot to bring her gun."

[Ambrose]

Hey JirQUEST,

You made several good points.

However, I do have an explanation for one of your comments. The reason Emily felt compelled to look at the picture was not because I, the author, wanted her to. I was trying to convey that Emily had an alter ego, and that that part of herself wanted her to look at the picture and see the manifestation of her other self. Ultimately, what I was getting at was that "he" wanted to take control of Emily. I probably should have made that more clear, perhaps by taking a different approach to the situation.

Anyways, thanks for the critique.

[Anonymous]

I liked the forshadowing... keep it up...