7 years earlier

Saturday 16 July 2016 - Arthur, Stuart, Ginie and Clara watch a 90s horror film at the Russo home. Arthur reveals that he has feelings for the girl in the window.

“Together one year on Tuesday,” Clara responded.

“That is adorable!” Mrs Russo swooned in bonafide admiration. She took what felt like the hundredth photo of Gini and Clara together on the couch with her new iPhone SE.

Ginie proudly took Clara’s dainty hand, contentedly pointing at the Victorian-style Amethyst ring she’d purchased her for their first anniversary so that the camera-phone could make it out clearly.

Clara smiled serenely, seemingly above it all.

Mrs Russo beamed at their young love and spun around in a show of youthful exuberance which was quite out of character for her. Arthur watched on in bafflement at this strange display of mother-daughter dynamics.

“Did you know Stuart…” Mrs Russo said, turning her attention on both of the boys, “before I met Mr Russo I was briefly in a dalliance with a Wiccan girl named Ashleigh Bravewhip. She was a powerful sorceress, even then, and a great kisser to boot.” Mr Russo giggled, covering her mouth self consciously and snapping another couple of photographs of the girls. Arthur was not at all used to Mrs Russo cutting loose like this, and he suspected she might have gotten into the sacramental wine.

“Oh true?” Stuart offered dumbly, never quite sure what to say to adults, especially in the middle of weird childhood reminiscences.

“When was that Mother? Like a hundred years ago?” Ginie asked perhaps too abruptly, sensing the attention shifting away from her and Clara.

“Hardo,” Clara snapped at Ginie.

Failing to ignore her daughter, Mrs Russo - a little hurt by the brutality of the comment - responded tersely.

“Oh, well. Hmm…I should think many years ago. I was your and Clara’s age. A little older perhaps; but it was definitely while I was still at highschool.” Despite herself, she sighed longingly at the thought of her youthful indiscretion.

“Well good for you. But I am with a girl today - in the present. Remember Clara?” She said pointing at the transcendent girl sitting next to her on their massive couch. Mrs Russo had not gotten used to her daughter’s tetchy tone; that merciless and unyielding manner so common to teens.

“Not everything is about you Mother.”

Arthur had noticed that Ginie always called her mum mother when she was trying to score points with whoever she believed was tallying such things. Arthur had to call his father Sir, and if he’d shown even the slightest cheek he would have found himself on the receiving end of more than a few firm words. The sound of church hymns filled Arthur’s head as he imagined his father’s rage.

Ginie’s mother scowled for a micro-second, but not wanting to further dampen the mood, she adorned a confected smile, took a few final snaps of the Scooby gang (as she called them) and excused herself.

“I’ll just go and make you all dinner then?”

She pushed the swinging door to the kitchen - a little too forcefully - almost taking out Mr Russo, who was busy cooking dinner, and disappeared into the steam and smoke.

“Sounds like a great idea. Call us when it’s ready,” Ginie shot back.

“I am no stranger to disrespect in this house, but your daughter is getting on my last nerves,” she whispered too loudly to Mr Russo, as the door finally swung completely closed.

Clara rolled her eyes at Ginie, so that Ginie would be aware that she was not impressed by her treatment of her soon to be mother-in-law. Ginie just shrugged, picked up a pillow from the floor, and for no reason at all hit Stuart over the head with it.

Now that they were alone again, Stuart resumed Scream on the Blu-Ray and he and Ginie began their standard running commentary of the evening’s main attraction. It was still early in the film. So early in fact, that Drew Barrymore’s character wasn’t at the point of taking the prank telephone call too seriously - yet. Ginie flung an arm over Clara’s shoulder and gave her a quick peck. Clara gave her a playful push back, all forgiven.

“Sara Michelle Gellar would have made a better Sidney Prescott,” Ginie offered defiantly, knowing that Stuart would never let this lie.

“Nev Campbell is not only hotter and broodier. She’s also ten times the actor SMG is.”

Stuart and Ginie argued over this as Drew Barrymore’s character flirted with her killer. But Arthur couldn’t pay attention to the screen. He felt distinctly as though he was being watched by something. The hairs on his arms stood on-end and he felt a chill run down his back. He looked beyond the television and through the window facing on to the back yard, but saw only darkness there.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Right on schedule Ginie began to put on her usual show, demonstrating her deep knowledge of all things horror. The only thing she loved more than horror, was picking fights with Stuart and Arthur on everything from the accuracy of the Book of Shadows in Charmed, to the real story behind the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Arthur still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched and it made his stomach ache. It was only after a few moments of a creeping dread that seemed to inhabit all of him that he realised it was Clara looking at him - and not some spirit from the beyond. She was transfixed; her head cocked slightly to the side and her eyes locked intensely. She neither smiled nor frowned, but simply stared in his direction as though there was something on his forehead, like a smear of slime.

“I’m going to go grab a drink,” Arthur said, half-lying and just wanting to get our of Clara’s laser-focus.

“I’ll come,” Clara responded.

Arthur didn’t want a drink, and he didn’t want Clara following him to the kitchen. He quickly shot up, bypassed the kitchen altogether, and made for the rumpus room, which had a small bar, and a mini-fridge filled with strange pop from the US. He opened the mini-fridge and grabbed a can of Dr Pepper, a decidedly disgusting but interesting drink. He turned to find Clara right behind him. He started, almost dropping the full can onto the floor.

“Hey, don’t scare me like that, weirdo,” he said smirking at his friend.

“Oh sorry Arthur,” she paused and sighed deeply. “Umm…did you know you were shining?”

Arthur did not know what to say. He had the notion that Clara had either lost her mind or was quitting girls to start a new life with him. He doubted the latter was the case but he found her proximity to him, within his tight personal circle, a little uncomfortable.

“You’re keeping something from all of us aren’t you Arth? There’s something strange about your aura. Something emerging from behind your neck. There’s a faint smell of ash. I think you’re in love but you’re scared too - of what?” She seemed to be talking more to herself than him.

“Clara - I respect your beliefs and all, but what are you talking about?”

“Don’t be coy Arth. Who is she?”

At this Arthur was truly and finally shocked. Had he let on somehow? Had he accidentally written the secret words in his mind on a piece of paper and left it on the coffee table for all to read?

“I … umm…well. I don’t know what to say.”

“Damn - it’s fear alright. What’s got you so shook that you can’t tell us? I thought you would be honest enough with your friends to tell them if you were in trouble…or in love.”

“Well - it’s just that she’s. Well it’s …”

“So you admit it? There’s a she.”

Just as Arthur was about to speak the lights around the room flickered on and off just like in a horror film, only less synchronised. The room suddenly seemed colder, and just as he was about to say they should return to the lounge, Clara suddenly pulled back in horror.

“Arth, can you tell me one thing,” she said quickly, out of breath. “What’s her name? Tell me!”

“Leelu. And she’s not from school so you probably don’t know her anyway,” Arthur responded.

She rubbed her eyes, and shook her head. The lights in the room suddenly went out completely plunging the two of them into darkness. Ginie screamed after Clara from the other room.

“Clara where you at babe? How shit is this house? We can’t watch a single movie in peace!”

“Coming! Just having an D and M with Arth!”

She pulled him to her.

“Arthur. What have you done?”

“Nothing I swear. I haven’t even met Leelu in person. We just talk…but I think I…really like her.”

“Do you love her?”

“I think…maybe.”

“Arthur your Aura… It’s completely black. It’s like you’re dead.”

“Dead?”

Clara tried to calm herself, smiling softly at him.

“Tell me about this Leelu. Don’t leave anything out.”

“She’s a really special…girl. She’s like me in a lot of ways,” he sort of chuckled to himself about this but Clara didn’t understand why.

Arthur continued awkwardly. “She’s really nice, and really funny, but she’s stuck in a life she can’t get out of until she’s much older. And she likes Buffy, and horror, and she’s just totally awesome and smart.”

“How long have you known this … girl?”

“A while. Like three years.”

“Three years! Arthur … years? That’s three times longer than you’ve known me. How and where did you meet her and don’t you lie to me Arthur Velnias.”

At this Arthur paused. What to say? He wondered. No matter what he said now, it would sound crazy. He flipped through the catalogue of possible responses and landed squarely on: “I met her in the attic.”

“Is there a girl in the attic Arthur?” She asked completely beside herself. “Do we need to call the police?”

“Not exactly. I mean no don’t call the police. She’s not living there. It’s just where we meet. She only appears when I step on the star in the middle of the room.”

“The pentacle?” Clara gasped.

“Yeah. That. She appears in the circle window when I step into the star. At first, it was an accident. I was being a 10 year old and snooping around in the attic after Mr and Mrs Russo’s temple. But then it became every week and I think maybe we’re more than just friends. I mean I know we are. We were even planning on meeting up. Just have to sort out the where and when.”

“No!” Came the booming voice of Mr Russo from behind them. “No! No! No!”

They both spun around to find Mr Russo in the room with them, an unlit torch in his right hand.

“Arthur you don’t know what you’ve done.”

His voice was only drowned out by the television suddenly switching back on to Drew Barrymore screaming at the killer on the phone.

“Why is everyone getting so mad at me,” he shout-whispered. “Leelu is a good person. It doesn’t matter what she looks like or who she is. I like her…a lot.”

“The girl in the window is not your friend Arthur,” he said gently, taking Arthur by the shoulders. “She’s the daughter of a very powerful man.”

Arthur had never seen Mr Russo like this. Mr Russo looked distracted for a moment and fell into a stunned silence. He left the two of them in the rumpus to have a quick conference with his wife in the hushed tones of frightened parents. Mrs Russo had suddenly and inexplicably been overcome by a serious stomach bug. Within a few minutes, movie night was over, and dinner was hotboxed and handed out to all. After everyone but Arthur had left, and Ginie had gone to her room, aggrieved at the direction the night had taken, Mr Russo took Arthur into the Attic. A room now very familiar to Arthur.

“Arthur. I know what you said - I hear you I do. And I understand what your heart and mind must be telling you. But this isn’t something that you are ready for. I’m sorry we didn’t take more care to keep you from harm. But I will protect you now. I need to show you this for your own good.”

On the wooden floor next to the beautiful star, which had transported him to the girl of his dreams every weekend since he was ten years old, stood an vase of water, filled with fresh hemlock. Before Arthur could even countenance what was happening Mr Russo tipped the sanctified water onto the star, chanting a few words Arthur could not understand. He recognised that they were probably Sumerian or Aramaic. In a flash of light and fire, the star began to disintegrate from view before his eyes.

Only when it was gone did Arthur cry out, in the slow realisation that he would never see Leelu again.

He hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye.

“If we’re lucky Arthur. Maybe what I’ve done tonight will be enough to save you. We can only pray.”