The Resurrection Of Amelia D. Taylor (2)
Jacqueline P Ervine

 

Chapter 3



William led her down the street to a small house. It looked somewhat old and damaged. As they walked up the steps onto the porch, she could hear the creaking of the loose boards. William casually set himself onto one of the porch chairs.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said sympathetically. He could see she didn’t want to be there, like it was written all over her face. And, quite frankly, that was the truth. She didn’t want to be there. He was a complete stranger to her, as far as she was concerned.
Amelia looked from board to board and smirked at the unseemliness of the place. Amelia thought William sure could use a woman in his life. A maid, at least. The wood was all dust and ash coated. Some of the planks didn’t match one another, wich made it look like the house had just been thrown together. It looked like the entire house would give at any moment.
William looked up at her and smiled.
“Are you still curious as to what I do for a living?” he asked.
“A bit.”
“Let’s see then.”
William stood up and brushed off his slacks. He walked over to the door behind Amelia and opened it to a dark room. He pulled on a string hanging by the window and the room filled with electricity.
“Edison is a great man,” he said.
Amelia was still standing outside of the house, looking in like a stray cat. William smiled and took hold of her hand.
“Don’t be shy.”
He pulled Amelia inside and shut the door. She looked around at the main room. The house was still small, but it definitely looked better on the inside than on the outside. A lavishly decorated carpet blanketed the hardwood floor.
Bookshelves surrounded an entire wall, and was covered

almost completely with large books and nick-nacks.
There was a table in the farthest corner, then only two rooms, wich Amelia suspected was a bathroom and a bedroom. There was also a door, beside the bookshelf covered wall.
The table in the back was flooded with papers and empty jars. It also had some of the books on it. Boxes were forced into the crawl space behind the table, wich took up all of the room it could.
Amelia walked to the bookshelf and ran her fingers carefully over the books. She skimmed the necks of the books for titles, all of wich she couldn’t quite comprehend.
“What are all these books for anyways?” she asked.
William looked at her and walked to where she was standing.
“Research. Some are my books.:
“You’re a researcher?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“You’re uncertified?”
“I’m curious.”
“Oh.”
William let his eyes drift off to all the books. He hadn’t read but half of them, and most of them were just used as reliable resources. His eyes flickered back over to Amelia, who had her attention set on the porcelain doll on one of the top shelves. He swallowed.
Amelia picked up the fragile doll and held it in her arms. It’s hair was a dark brown. It’s eyes were a bright hazel color. The porcelain on it’s face and arms was cracked. The dress it had on was an off white lacy dress. It was pretty, all except for the faint blood stains on it.
“That’s one of Carolina’s dolls,” William mumbled.
Amelia looked at him.
“Who’s that?”
“My daughter.”
Amelia opened her eyes a bit wider.
“Really?” she asked.
William nodded. Amelia could sense the strong hint of fear

in him.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” he replied to her curtly, “There’s more down stairs.”
Amelia watched as he walked to the door on the opposite side of the bookcase. She followed close after him with the doll still in her arms. He opened the door and started down the stairs. She followed. It was dark downstairs and their was a strange scent in the air that Amelia couldn’t quite pick out.
William pulled a string similar to the one in the main room and the downstairs brightened. Boxes and boxes of more jars. More bookcases. Papers scattered over wooden tables and the floor. One part of the room however, was different from the rest, and it lured Amelia toward it.
Instead of the scientific-like gist, the part of the room looked like a little girls room. A wooden four-post bed took up most of the space. The sheets were white and pink with an off-white lace around the edge.
A small table was on the far side of the bed, and was also painted white at one point to watch the rest of the furniture. A chest was at the foot of the bed and a bureau was off to the side. All of the furniture looked like it had been burnt. The paint had began to peel away, and pieces were starting to rot over.
Amelia sat down and set the porcelain doll in her lap. She stroked it’s wire like hair smooth and felt it’s cracked porcelain. William looked at her and smiled slightly. He still felt somewhat uncomfortable, but it was passing. Amelia looked up at him and she smiled.
“I take it this is some of Carolina’s furniture?”
William nodded. His eyes her focused hard onto the doll in Amelia’s lap.
“Does she like dolls?” she asked.
“She did,” William whispered. His voice was shaky. Amelia was somewhat confused, and scared all at once. It overwhelmed her.
“Did?”
“She’s dead.”
Amelia felt her face go hot and the rest of her go cold. She felt so stupid. All she could really think of to do was apologize.
                                                                                                        
Her throat refused to let her speak, and she could see from the sunken experession on Williams face that he was having a hard time, too.
“I’m sorry,” she finally squeaked out. She’d kick herself for that later.
William smiled at her.
“It’s quite alright, Amelia.”
That gave her some relief, but not much. He walked over to one of the desks and started going through the piles of paper. Amelia stood up and slinked over to the bureau. She stared at her reflection, but mostly her eyes. She had gotten ample compliments on them before. She liked them herself. They gave a somewhat beautiful appearance. At long glance, though.
She looked down at the doll cradled in her arms, staring now at it’s eyes. Something about the doll made it seem almost real. She couldn’t tell weather it was it’s eyes or the porcelain, which looked almost like skin. Amelia just kept staring, as if watching to see if the doll would blink.
William turned away from his desk for a moment and looked over his shoulder. He saw Amelia standing over the bureau. He could see her blurred reflection in the dusty mirror. She looked possessed in a strange way. Somewhat in trance. She was cradling the doll like it was her life trapped in a breakable container. A chill swept over him just looking at her. It reminded him so much of his daughter.
“It looks just like her,” he said. Amelia turned her head toward him and looked at him square in the face. William couldn’t tell if her expression was a confused one, or the same transfixed look she had when she was staring at the doll. “The doll. It looks just like Carolina.”
Amelia looked down at it again and smiled. She brushed it’s hair out of it’s face.
“She was beautiful.”
William nodded and Amelia smiled. She wanted to add something, but she held her tongue. She walked back over to the bed and sat down, stroking the dolls hair. Amelia closed her eyes.
William shivered. To him, Amelia was like a little girl. The way
She played with the doll made him feel akward deep inside. Like something was missing and there it was, sitting right in front of him.
He stood up and walked over to Amelia. He sat down, but she kept her eyes closed. They sat there in a strange silence for a while. Amelia didn’t seem like she wanted to talk. She looked almost asleep, really, but her hands were still moving.
William took in a deep breath.
“Have you ever known what it’s like to lose someone, then find someone else exactly like them? Amelia thought for a moment. She couldn’t think of anyone. She shook her head, and William nodded. “Have you ever felt alone?”
Amelia opened her eyes. She could say yes. She felt alone most of the time, even when she was in a room full of people, she felt alone. She nodded.
“Here right now is probably the least alone I’ve ever been,” she said.
William looked at her in a strange way.
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. It’s just the way my mind is. It wanders in and out of reality, and that’s whan I feel alone.”
Honestly, William had no clue what she was talking about, and it didn’t seem like she did either. Amelia just smiled, but William was uncomfortable. He squirmed in his seat, and had trouble keeping still.
“Amelia, could I tell you something?”
She looked at him. He was upset. Utterly, and truly upset. His eyes were wide and near bloodshot. It looked as if he was about to break down.









Chapter 4
 
 
She wasn’t quite sure, She didn’t quite know, but the look in Williams eyes was anything but pleasant. Something like despair, or pain. But to her, it seemed like pure dread. He was staring straight ahead of him at nothing, wich made Amelia worry. She was afraid he would forget he had to breath because his mind seemed so far out.
She put her hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. The look on his face showed a battle going on inside him. One that she was sure he was losing.
“William,” she whispered.
He made a strange face that looked like he was regaining conciousness. His eyes started flickering back and forth across the wall in front of him, and Amelia tightened her grip on his shoulder.
She was worried more than frightened. It looked almost like he would drop right there in front of her. Her grip kept tightening, even thought she didn’t notice. William winced when her grip got too tight, and she let go of him.
“Are you ok?” she asked.
William nodded slowly and cleared his throat.
“I’m terribly sorry, Amelia.”
“It’s fine…” she said. It wasn’t fine though. Something was wrong inside his mind and he wouldn’t tell her.
“William, is everything ok?”
He looked at her like she was insane---or maybe he was insane. Then he eased, seeing the look on her face.
“Yes. Everything is quite alright.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t pleased. He was lying to her, and the bad thing is, it was obvious.
“William.”
   He turned around to face her.
“Yes?”
“You wanted to tell me something.”
“Oh, yes,” he started, “Your welcome to stay here tonight, if you want to. I don’t mind. It looks like you’ve already made yourself comfortable right there, so I suspect you won’t have much trouble sleeping there tonight.”
Amelia looked at the doll in her lap and at the bureau.
“Yeah, I guess I have,” she said.
William nodded and started straightening up the papers on his desk. It wouldn’t help much, but it was a bit better. He turned back to Amelia.
“I’m going up to bed. It’s late.”
“Alright.”
He walked over to an oil lamp and turned the knob. The small light turned on and flickered back and forth. He looked at Amelia and smiled.
“Goodnight,” he said as he walked away.
Amelia smiled wide.
“Goodnight.”
She watched William as he walked up the stairs and pulled on the string. The entire room went dark except for where she was, because of the small light she had coming from the lamp. The door shut behind William as he walked out, leaving Amelia alone in the basement.
She looked down at the porcelain doll. In the dim light, it looked even more alive. Amelia thought she might as well check for a pulse.
“It looks just like Carolina.”
Amelia cringed. She felt and scanned her eyes over the dolls cracked skin. She couldn’t help herself.
She thought of a murder scene.






                                                                                                       
Chapter 5



Amelia was so frustrated. She couldn’t sleep. Not with the twisted images that were burned inside her mind. And especially not with Alexanders voice going on and on in her head. She was afraid that his same words would be played over and over again, until it’s madness in her head.
She could remember so far back. When she was younger, foolish. “you’re beautiful Amelia.” Maybe she was. Maybe she just lost her touch.
“wench”
It’s funny how one person can make you feel ontop of the world, and then make you feel so low. Lower than hell itself. Amelia had her eyes closed. She was trying to force her way to sleep.
She tossed. She turned. She couldn’t get comfortable. What she needed right now was relief. Any kind of relief. She probably would have excepted execution right now.
She opened her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, not at this rate. She stared up at the blackness above her. Amelia wondered where she would be right now if she was with Alexander. Probably at home, in her usual bed. Not the small eight year old bed she was in now.
But then she had to wonder, what would she do if she actually got her hands on him? She would more than likely strangle him. Smother him. Something.
Amelia ran her hands over the sheets. Her eyes were glued to one spot on the ceiling. What was it about the dark that made her so calm? She moved her fingers lightly. Amelia pulled her hand into a fist, feeling the porcelain dolls hair.
She pulled the doll up from under the covers gently, being careful not to drop it over her cramped bed. Amelia brushed back it’s hair. She could feel the rough cracks of it’s skin. The
                                                                                                     
murder scene slithered back into her head and she shuddered.
She hugged the doll and closed her eyes. It was hard keeping them closed. She wasn’t sure why, but she had become attached to the doll in a matter of hours.
                       * * *
The day was bright and warm. A man and his daughter walked through the tall grass to their house. The house was beautiful and well designed. They had spent so long building it. A slim woman was standing on the porch smoking.
The man looked at her in deep disdain. The little girl looked up into the sky.
“Daddy,” she whispered. She motioned with her finger for him to come closer. The man bent down and smiled.
“What is it?” he whispered back.
“If you look closely, you can see heaven,” She pointed up to a cloud. Light was pouring down from the cloud. The man nodded.
“So you can.” The man leaned back up and took the little girls hand. The girl skipped to keep up with her father’s strong pace.
The woman standing on the porch blew out thin white smoke and coughed.
The little girl ran towards the woman with her arms open.
“Mama!”
The woman looked at the girl briefly, then looked away. The little girl hugged her, wrapping her arms around her waist. The woman tapped her cigarette and black ashes floated to the ground. She didn’t pay any attention to the girl arapped around her.

The man walked up to the steps onto the porch.
“Get away from you’re mother, Carolina.” The little girl looked at him and let go. Her father beckoned for her to go into the house. She did as directed.
“Can I get Maggie, Daddy?” she asked. Her father nodded. The woman looked at him.
“Maggie?”
“It’s her doll. The one she gor for Christmas,” he pointed out, “not like you ever cared about that, did you, Laura?
“Don’t talk to me like that, William.”
He cringed. The way she spoke to him sickened him. The bitter tone in her voice.
William walked over to an oil lamp and played with the knob.
“Stop messing with that. It’s broad daylight.” she mumbled to him in a profound way. He looked at Laura, hearing the slight slur in her words.
“You’ve been drinking.”
The woman smiled and laughed, reaching behind her and pulling up a nearly empty bottle of rum.
“I have to drink. That girl of yours has me running all around all the time. It’s my only escape from insanity.”
“What escape? Your already insane. And besides that, she’s your daughter, too. “
The woman looked at him scornfully.
“She takes a lot after you. Arrogant and filthy.”
William stood up, knocking over the oil lamp on the table.
“Don’t you ever talk about Carolina like that.”
“I-just-did,” Laura crooned.
The man clenched his fists. He wasn’t about to hit her. But he wanted to. Boy, did he want to.
He took a step toward her, and she pushed him out of the way. In another instant, she was standing over the spilt oil with her cigarette burning between her two fingers.
“I could burn down this dump right down.”
William looked at her. Then the ignition in her hand. Then back again.
“Laura!”
“William!”
She was mocking him. He rushed toward her, and she dropped the burning cigarette in the oil. The liquid caught on fire quickly, and then raced to ignite the rest of the house. Laura was standing in the same spot. Laughing. Burning. William looked at her and realized something. She wasn’t just drunk. She was insane.
“Laura, your going to burn,” he yelled at her.
“So let me! No where can be worse than this place!”
                                                                                                     
William watched as the flames ran up the wooden walls, onto the rooftop. He watched the flame in awe, then went cold. His face went white.
Carolina is still in the house.











 

 

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Copyright © 2007 Jacqueline P Ervine
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"