The Quiver

The chill was getting to my bones and the freezing air was triggering my throat as I sat, unable to move, on the cold, snowy floor of the ruined attic.

It was a bad idea – visiting Mrs. Hamilton in the middle of January. She was not only a terrible mother-in-law but was also an unbelievably dreadful, arrogant and self-concerned old woman. They say that if a man’s mother loves you he loves you too or that if you please your husband’s mother, your husband will be pleased as well. Myths! I hold on to my theory which says, “If you marry a man who is controlled by his mother then you’re marrying both.”

After several hours on the road, we finally reached the countryside. As we drove past the beautiful houses I noticed that there was something very unusual but I couldn’t put my finger on it but soon I understood that it was simply too quite. Looking at the odious house, I realized how strange it was not to see Mrs. Hamilton rushing out of the house, hugging and kissing John and not paying me any attention. John and I exchanged bewildered glances and then headed to the door.

“Where in the heavens is she?” John asked, still banging on the door and pressing the bell in the same time. “We called her. She knew we’ll be here.”

“Come on, maybe she went to visit a friend,” I said, looking into the living room from the window. John looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “What?! Aren’t you glad I’m defending her?”

“You don’t have to pretend that you like her,” John stated, searching under the doormat. “I can see how she treats you. Oh, here it is!” John found the key atop the doorframe and unlocked the door while I stood there wondering how could such a short, fluffy old lady manage to hide that key so high.

When the sun hid behind the hills and there was still no sign of Mrs. Hamilton, John went to the neighbors to ask them if they knew anything. The elegant, antique clock, which was gracefully hanged above the fireplace, was indicating that a new day had started. Wicked thoughts started sneaking into my head. As I walked to the door, John’s words echoed through my head, “Don’t leave. No matter what happens, don’t leave the house.” Once I opened the front door I felt my heart stopping…

Before me stood a woman in a white, short, silky dress and gazed into the floor. Her bare hands were of a deadly white colour with a blue shade. Her face was covered by her long black hair that also lay over her naked shoulders. Slowly she raised her head and the hair fell off her face. Her eyes, both the iris and the sclera, were brick-red as though filled with blood and her lips were dark purple. She stretched her hand towards me in order to grab me but I receded in the last moment. At a snail’s pace, she literally flew into the hall. In panic, I ran into the living room and locked the door behind me. I pushed the drawer so that it would enforce the door. My heart was about to jump out of my throat when I saw the woman passing right through the closed door as if it wasn’t even there. The drawer, blocking the door, was canceling all my chances in leaving the room. Intimidated and still not believing in all what was happening, I ran towards the window. The window refused to open. I wrapped my fist with the curtain, smashed the glass and jumped out, barely escaping her grasp.

I fought my way through the storm to the closest house and started banging on the door. “Please! Help me!” I shouted but there was no reply. I ran to the second house, then to the third house but there was no sign of life in them. When running towards another house I heard earsplitting noise. The woman was standing in the middle of the blizzard and screaming. Blocking my ears, I was not able to do anything but to watch that bloodcurdling scene. Suddenly, everything started shaking, forcing me to the ground. As the screaming and shuddering continued to escalate, I was blinded by an intensely bright light.

Everything became still. I got onto my feet, still strongly pressing on my ears, and looked around. A horrendous view stood before me – all houses were practically demolished. It seemed as though the entire village burned years ago and the walls were the only to survive.

Realizing that the woman was approaching me, I started running away. I ran into a still-standing house and headed upstairs. I didn’t know how I would survive by going to the attic but something told me that it was the right direction. As I ran across the attic, I tripped and fell onto the floor. I looked back and although couldn’t see what it was that lay on the floor, knew it was something that was once alive. I crawled towards it and…

“John?” I whispered, telling myself that poor visibility and the latest events were giving me hallucinate. But as my eyes got used to the dark I could not deny that it was my John. “JOHN! NO!!” I yelled and started shaking his shoulders but his body was already cold and lifeless. As I cried over my husband’s body, the woman walked into the attic and stood over us. She was even more frightening when the dim moonlight fell on her face. “Who are you?” I whispered with more anger than fear.

After a silent pause, the woman said, “I am The Quiver - the fear that brings death; the death that takes life; the life that does not exist.” She turned around and started walking away.

“Where are you going?!” I sobbed. She turned around and looked at me with her expressionless face. “Where do you think you’re going?! Don’t just leave me here!! Kill me too!!”

“Death…” the woman said slowly. “It comes when you don’t want it and does not when you want it most…”

With these words she disappeared leaving me there on the floor pleading for death. I didn’t care anymore about who was that woman, why did she come and why did she do that to the village. All I wanted was to have something I couldn’t get – death. And like that I sat by my husband’s body not able to die or live.