Harris Read online

  HARRIS

  By

  Sarah J. DiFalco

  For Mom, who passed on her passion for reading and writing.

  For Dad, who always believed I could do anything.

  For Albert, who supports me in everything I do.

  Love you guys.

  Chapter One

  The dark room was lit only by the soft glow of a yellow nightlight. The large glowing star hung near Harris's bed, shining over her like a watchful guardian. Harris's tiny arms squeezed a stuffed doll with wild hair. Her eyes flitted back and forth under her eyelids. A soft breath came from her nose.

  Across the room, the closet door was tightly closed. A square bin with toys sat near the door. Several shelves stuck out from the corner, home to numerous stuffed animals and books. The silence of the room was only disturbed by the gentle sounds of sleep.

  "Now I lay me down to sleep."

  Harris's eyes flicked open like a light switch. Her body still, she scanned the room, in search of the source of the child's voice.

  "I beg the Lord my soul to keep."

  Harris could not move her limbs. Her fear was a weight that held her body down, letting only her head turn. She spotted her stuffed lamb on the shelf, a toy she was gifted for Christmas. The lamb said a prayer when you squeezed it. She felt relief.

  "If I should die before I wake."

  The voice continued from the corner.

  Harris closed her eyes to go back to sleep.

  "I beg the Lord my soul to take." The toy continued.

  Harris's eyes shot open again. But who was squeezing the toy?

  "I beg the Lord my soul to take."

  "I beg the Lord my soul to take."

  "I beg the Lord my soul to take."

  "My Soul to take."

  "My Soul to take."

  The toy repeated.

  Harris started to shake. Her breath quickened. She pulled the blanket over her head.

  "My Soul to take."

  The voice paused for a few moments.

  "If I should die."

  Harris squeezed her eyes shut.

  Bunk.

  Harris peeked from under the blanket with one eye.

  The toy had fallen from the shelf onto the ground.

  Finding a speck of bravery, Harris sat up and screamed for her mother. In less than a minute, Harris's door swung open, flooding her room with light. Mrs. Haim, Harris's mother, appeared by her side in one breath's time.

  "What is it? Are you okay?" Mrs. Haim scanned her daughter's face and body for injury.

  "There was a voice. The toy went by itself, Mama."

  "What? Don't be silly. It probably just needs new batteries." Mrs. Haim answered, walking over to pick up the stuffed lamb. She examined it, turning it over in her hands.

  Harris pulled her covers up to her chin, watching her mother, waiting for the toy to attack her. Nothing happened. The lamb was place neatly back on the shelf and Mrs. Haim gave Harris a kiss goodnight.

  "Now you have sweet dreams." Mrs. Haim smiled, brushing the hair off of Harris's forehead, and tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

  "Thank you Mama. Night." Harris gave the lamb a suspicious eye, then rolled over and shut her eyes.

  Sleep washed over Harris. The room was quiet again. Her little fingers twitched and eyelids fluttered. She was deep in Dreamland already.

  * * *

  Downstairs, Mrs. Haim stood in front of the sink, wringing out a soapy sponge. Behind her, Harris's father sat at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee sitting in front of him.

  "It was the toy this time. She said it was talking by itself," Mrs. Haim told her husband.

  "Last night it was something at the window. Last week there was a boy above her bed. Where is she getting this stuff?" Mr. Haim said.

  "Maybe she is watching scary videos online? She is always using my phone or the tablet. I need to lock them up, I think."

  "Jess, maybe she should talk to someone. It is happening more now. Maybe she needs counseling or something." Mr. Haim furrowed his brow.

  Mrs. Haim answered sounding irritated, "she is fine, Mark. She doesn't need therapy. Not everything is a mental illness, my God."

  Mr. Haim put his hands up in front of his chest and pointed his palms toward his wife to surrender. "I don't want any trouble. Password protect the tablet. Parental controls on the phone and tablet. Maybe that will help." He smiled and walked toward her. Placing his cup in the sink, he kissed Mrs. Haim's head. "No trouble. Love you."

  Mrs. Haim smiled and returned to her dishes. She looked back toward her husband as he made his way out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. "Therapy, ha," she said to herself, then scrubbed the coffee mug.

  * * *

  Mr. Haim quietly stepped toe first on each step. He made it to the top then waited. He listened quietly for any sounds of rousing from Harris's room. Nothing. It was safe to proceed. Down the hall, he peeked into his daughter's room. A sleeping angel, he thought. He carried on toward the bathroom to brush his teeth.

  After a thorough cleaning, Mr. Haim stepped into the hall. Everything was silent. He paused again, then wiggled his hips as he walked down toward his bedroom.

  SLAM.

  The noise made Mr. Haim jump and spin around, almost stumbling backward. He jogged down the hall toward Harris's door, which had slammed shut.

  He grabbed the doorknob. It wouldn't turn. He pushed the door. It wouldn't budge. Mrs. Haim had come running up the stairs and now stood watch as Mr. Haim knocked on the door and slammed his shoulder into it.

  "Harris. Harris honey open the door. Harris." Mr. Haim was frantic.

  Mrs. Haim took in the scene for a moment, then started banging on the door alongside her husband. "Harris, open this door now," she yelled, pounding the door with an open hand, then a fist.

  "Harris," they both yelled. Mr. Haim backed up. He looked at Mrs. Haim and she nodded in understanding, then backed away from the door. Ready to kick the door in, Mr. Haim took a step forward, but froze when the doorknob rattled.

  The knob began to turn. Mrs. Haim rushed in and grabbed it and opened the door carefully. Harris stood in front of them, her gray nightgown grazing the tops of her bare feet. Her eyes didn't squint or blink to adjust from the dark room to the new light. She stared, motionless, at her mother. Mrs. Haim's grip tightened on the doorknob.

  "Harris what is going on? Do not ever lock that door again. Why are you slamming doors, anyway?" Mr. Haim scolded his daughter, but concern enveloped his words.

  Harris's head tilted slightly. Her gaze remained steady, eyes never flinching.

  "Young lady, you scared us. Do not slam doors. Are you okay?" Mrs. Haim asked.

  Harris continued to stare. Her head tilted more. Then more. It jerked back down and she pulled her chin inward, so that her forehead stuck out and she had to look up past her eyebrows to see her parents.

  "Harris?" Mr. Haim sounded more concerned. He stepped back.

  "Okay, in bed missy. Let's go." Mrs. Haim stepped forward and reached for her daughter's shoulder, but Harris jerked back. She ran into the darkness of her room and toward her bed. Mrs. Haim looked nervously at her husband. He shrugged with unease. They both followed Harris into her room.

  "Good girl. Let me tuck you back in. We can leave the door open." Mrs. Haim said, approaching Harris's bed. Harris lay curled up in her blankets, eyes closed, as if she was asleep already. "OK, goodnight," her mother said, smiling.

  Mr. and Mrs. Haim kissed their daughter on the head. She responded by sighing lightly. Her eyes flicked under her eyelids, dreamily. Mrs. Haim stepped back and tripped. She looked down at the floor and spotted Harris's gray nightgown, rumpled in a heap. She looked at it, puzzled. Mr. Haim did the same, then looked at his wife. She pulled the blankets back the sm
allest bit to see her daughter's shoulder. A pink pajama top peeked out from behind the blankets. Mrs. Haim lifted the blankets more, to reveal Harris's favorite pink pajamas, and Harris sound asleep. She tucked her daughter back in.

  Chills ran up Mrs. Haim's back. How did her daughter change and go to sleep so quickly? Was she sleepwalking? Was that even Harris?

  "Sleepwalking?" Mr. Haim seemed to read his wife's mind. He was turning over all of the same information Mrs. Haim was trying to understand.

  "I guess. That was so weird," Mrs. Haim whispered as they both tiptoed out of Harris's room.

  "You saw her out of bed, right?" Mr. Haim asked, looking for reassurance.

  Mrs. Haim nodded, adding, "in her gray nightgown?"

  Mr. Haim nodded.

  "What in the world?" Mrs. Haim shook her head. They both headed down toward their bedroom, looking back toward their daughter's room several times, before finally stepping into their room to get ready for bed.

  In Harris's room, she slept soundly. The only sound to hear in her room, was a gentle snoring from her button nose. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. The star night light cast a warm glow over Harris's bed. The door, which was wide open now, let plenty of light in. The only darkness left was in the corner of the room, where a tiny stuffed lamb sat on its shelf, staring at Harris. A quiet click and the low murmur of static broke the silence as the speaker came on.

  "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake. I pray the Lord my soul to take."

  Chapter Two

  "Light as a feather, stiff as a board," the group of girls chanted in unison. The girls surrounded another, who lay on a bed of pillows and blankets. They each had two fingers under her body, while they attempted to lift her. Harris looked around at her friends and smiled. This time it felt like she was going to move.

  "This isn't working," one of the girls whined.

  "Just give it a chance," Harris shot back.

  "No, it's okay. I'm too nervous anyway," the girl in the center of the circle giggled and sat up.

  The others at the sleepover groaned. Becca saw her chance and jumped into the pillow-bed in the middle of the circle.

  "Me next," she shouted, smiling ear to ear. Everyone put their head down. Candles flickered behind them. The lights were off, but a light from the hallway lit Jackie's den enough to see everything well. Becca crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes. Jackie sat at her head.

  "We are gathered here to remember our good friend Becca James. Becca was only eleven years old when she died in a terrible accident. We remember her as a fun, crazy girl, who loved to ice skate and loved Tony R." Jackie made up a dedication for Becca's fake funeral. The other girls giggled.

  "Jack!" Becca yelled, her ears and cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

  "Shut up Becca. It won't work if you don't be dead," Jackie snipped.

  Everyone settled down. A serious tone took over the room.

  "Rest in peace, Becca," Jackie said. She placed two fingers under her friend's head. The other girls placed their fingers under Becca and began their chant.

  "Light as a feather. Stiff as a board. Light as a feather. Stiff as a board."

  Harris felt her fingers rise. Becca was lifting. Her heart began to race. She could see Becca's hair hanging down behind her head. It was actually working. In an instant, Harris felt Becca's weight, and she fell to the pillows.

  "Oh man that was a good one," one of the girls said. They all murmured in excitement.

  "Harris next," Becca said.

  Harris looked around at her friends. They all smiled, encouraging her to get in the circle. She shrugged and stepped into the middle. Resting her body down, Harris felt her heart flutter. She was nervous it wouldn't work. She was more nervous it would.

  "We are gathered here to mourn the loss of our dear, dear friend, Harris Haim," Jackie started. "She was a beautiful soul. Her favorite thing to do was draw and write, but most of all it was be with her friends and family. She could always be trusted with your deepest secrets. But now she is dead and gone. We will miss you Harris. Rest in peace."

  The girls began their chant. Harris could feel all of the girls' fingers gently touching her from underneath. They didn't seem to be lifting her yet, just chanting. Something softly touched her nose. She scrunched up her face. Afraid to move, she blew upward, trying to blow it away, but it kept tickling her. The girls continued to chant, barely touching her yet. Before they really started, Harris figured she would just open her eyes and see what was touching her.

  White. Harris was confused. She saw white. And a little blue streamer. It was the ceiling. Harris realized a streamer from the ceiling was tickling her face. She was inches away. It had worked. She didn't even feel high up. Almost as suddenly as she had realized it was working, she dropped. Becca leapt forward and put her arms out, attempting to catch Harris, who was now falling from the ceiling. All of the other girls screeched and jumped away, afraid to get hit by Harris's falling body. Becca caught her, but stumbled from her weight, and they both landed in the pillows and blankets on the floor.

  "Thanks," Harris said to her best friend.

  "You freaking did it," Becca laughed.

  The other girls murmured among themselves until one spoke up.

  "I'm tired of this game. Let's do something else," Dana said.

  Jackie nodded and walked around the room, blowing out the candles. Someone flicked on the light. The girls cleaned up the blankets and moved on to their next activity.

  "You guys wanna tell scary stories?" Jackie asked, putting on a devilish smile.

  Some of the girls seemed uneasy or uninterested, but Becca, Harris, and Lily replied with enthusiasm.

  "Yes, oh my God. Let Harris go first. She tells good scary stuff," Becca insisted.

  "My house, I go first," Jackie said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Then Harris."

  The girls got settled into their sleeping bags, some on the couch, some on the floor. They cuddled and curled up, ready to be spooked.

  Jackie started, "One day, a girl and her brother were walking in the woods." Jackie looked around at her friends. "The girl was only eleven years old. She and her brother were trying to pick flowers for their mother. A noise came from behind them, a heavy breathing." Jackie breathed heavy, exaggerated breaths. "The brother asked his sister, 'what was that?' but when he turned to ask her she was gone. He looked in all the bushes, running around like crazy. He started to panic, but then he heard her in the bushes. 'Sister, thank God you are there. I was worried' he said. He walked over to her voice. When he looked in the bushes, there was no one there. Then he turned around...and...AHHHHHH. A monster jumped at him and tore his face off with claws like knives."

  The girls screamed, then giggled furiously. Jackie did her best maniacal laugh. Becca looked at Harris, who chuckled quietly.

  "Okay, okay. Now Harris," Becca said.

  The girls settled down and looked at Harris, expectantly. Harris felt her heart speed up. She considered skipping her turn. She didn't want the attention, but she really did like to tell stories.

  "Okay. Listen up my pretties," she cackled. "On a dark night, a bunch of girls were at a sleepover. They were telling scary stories and playing spooky games. One of the girls, Mary, said 'you guys wanna play a really scary game?' The girls nodded and followed her outside. They walked along the dark road, to the end. There was a cemetery. The girls walked into the cemetery and down a path. In front of a row of headstones, the girls held hands. 'Repeat me, but whatever you do, don't open your eyes,' Mary said. They held hands and began chanting a special chant."

  Harris's friends were all at attention. They sat up straight on the floor and on the edge of the cushions on the couch.

  Harris moved on. "Suddenly, a wind whirled around them. The trees swayed in the gust. A creaking came from behind them. One of the girls jumped, but didn't look. 'We should go,' another girl shouted. 'No,' Mary told her. A groan c
ame from beside them. Their friend Jacquelyn started to freak out. 'Don't look!" Mary shouted to her. There was a blood curdling scream. All of the girls opened their eyes and saw their friend was gone. 'Run,' Mary yelled out. The girls ran up the street, back to the house. Inside, they slammed the door shut. 'What was that?' one said. 'What happened to Jacquelyn?' another asked, scared. Mary sat down, without an answer. 'It's too late. I told you not to look,' she finally told them. Then a thud came from the chimney. Thud. Thud. Thud. It got louder, and closer. The girls started to cry. Whomp. A skeleton man covered in rotting skin dropped from the chimney. The girls screamed, but not for long. As he jumped at them, ripping them apart, piece by piece."

  "Stop, Harris!" One of the girls screamed. "Stop it."

  Harris had gotten caught up in her story. She looked around at all of her friends' terrified faces. One of the girls started to cry. Becca looked up at Harris, grinning.

  "Good one," Becca cheered, smiling wider.

  "Okay, I think story time is done," Jackie said.

  "I want to go home. Call my mom," the crying girl sobbed.

  "It was just a story. Sorry," Harris assured her.

  Jackie hugged the girl and offered her comforting words. Becca laughed. She loved Harris's scary stories, and loved even more, to see others scared by them. She patted Harris on the shoulder.

  "She'll be fine. Nice story," she said, winking.

  Harris felt guilty. She didn't mean to make anyone cry. She made a mental note to maybe tone it down a notch next time.

  * * *

  The next morning the girls had breakfast and the crying girl had recovered. Harris felt better. Mothers arrived one by one and collected their daughters from the sleepover.

  "You guys want to stay?" Jackie quietly asked Becca and Harris, out if earshot of the remaining girls.

  "Let me call my mom," Harris said.