-- This is the second part of the piece that began with "The Arrival of Mr. Marsh." --
"Let the Children Play"
I. Prentiss
The youngest boy decided
He was going to name himself
Prentiss
They had all had a turn at the diary
The one stashed under the floorboard
In the large upstairs bedroom
And they had read the names aloud
With great flourish
Prentiss was the only one
That couldn't be read that way
And that was the reason
The youngest boy chose it
They had arrived at the house
After walking for a few hours
When it came upon them
Slowly rising
From the ground's line
They weren't entirely sure
That it was real
So they stopped
And stared for a minute
Before continuing to approach
It had been that long
Without food
Without water
Without any hint
That things would be all right
They had slept in abandoned cars
Run-down shacks
Stores with more cobwebs
Than canned goods
Probably already rummaged through
Long before the children got there
This was the first time
They had let themselves
Stay inside a house
To the point where they could sleep
And not shake from fear
As their eyes would close
The youngest boy
The one who would be Prentiss
Wanted to keep going
But the others were tired
And the mansion was too appealing
In its grandeur
They convinced themselves it was safe
Because of the large windows
That seemed like they would prevent
Anyone from hiding
And it didn't occur to them
That the windows would also prevent them
From being hidden
So they pushed open
The wrought-iron gate
And pushed at the old oak door
Until it fell down in front of them
'This must be home,' the eldest girl said
And nobody agreed
And nobody disagreed
And that was that
It took them four days
To explore the house
And get it clean
Clean enough to live in anyway
Each claimed a room
The eldest girl wanted the big bedroom
The eldest boy wanted the attic
The second eldest girl wanted the kitchen
The youngest girl wanted the library
And the youngest boy wanted the parlor
It was the eldest girl who found the diary
She stepped right through
The rotted out floorboard
And went down
Until she was up to her waist
She screamed until the others came running
But once they had made their way
Up to the third floor
The eldest girl had already pulled herself up
And was sitting on the floor
Reading the diary
That she had landed on
It began at the beginning of summer
When a family named the Lessers
Who had apparently lived in the mansion
A very long time ago
Were waiting for a man to arrive
A man named Mr. Marsh
The person writing the diary
Didn't seem to think Mr. Marsh was coming
Because everyone had been waiting
For a very long time
And after flipping ahead a bit
It was clear that Mr. Marsh
Was not going to be making an appearance
In the diary
Or in the story of the Lessers
The eldest girl treated the diary
Just like that
Like it was a story
One that could be acted out
After all
Weren't they in the same house?
Weren't there five of them?
And five characters in the story?
Perhaps they could wait
For Mr. Marsh as well
'I'm Nadia' the eldest girl declared
And then they were off
Calling out who they wanted to be
And finally settling on a vote
But ending up as whomever
Nadia wanted them to be
The eldest boy wound up being Blake
And Nadia immediately took
To bossing him around
Sending him down to the train station
To look for Mr. Marsh
Even though none of them
Had any idea
Where the train station was
Or how to get there
Nadia christened the second eldest girl
Naming her after Ginger
Which didn't sit entirely well with Ginger
Since she wanted to be a part of the family
And not just the old maid
The youngest girl was left with Mariella
Which was just fine with her
Because Mariella was surely
The best character in the story
Very kind and intelligent
And the only reason that Nadia hadn't taken her
Was because she didn't sound pretty enough
The youngest boy had decided on Prentiss
And voiced this decision
But nobody listened
Still, that was what he wound up with
And everyone assumed he'd be upset
Because Prentiss was dull
And spent the beginning of the story
Waiting around at the train station
Doing absolutely nothing
And then snapping at Mariella
When she tried to get him to come home
Mariella stopped talking to Prentiss
As soon as she got to that part
Preferring to spend her time
Sitting in the library
Reading up on pottery techniques
And ancient cave drawings
'You have to talk to him,' Nadia informed her
'Why,' asked Mariella
She was seated in an over-sized chair
The back of which towered over her head
And her small hands rested on the giant armrests
Her legs were dangling inches from the floor
'Mariella is kind,' continued Nadia
'She wouldn't stop speaking to Prentiss
She loves him.
That's why she went to talk to him
In the first place.'
Mariella barely looked up from her book
She merely uttered--
'I suppose I disagree.'
This did not please Nadia
But Mariella was her own character
And she would have final say
Now that names had been picked
And besides
Prentiss didn't seem to notice anyway
He was always sitting in the parlor
On the elongated sofa
Not saying a word
Then one day
There was a noise
Followed by Nadia screaming
And once again
Everyone came running
Only to find they were too late
Prentiss was lying in the front hall
Nadia had been walking down the stairs
When she looked behind her
And saw Prentiss leap
Over the third floor railing
Ginger noticed he had something
Clutched in his hands
She looked at it
And instantly saw what it was
The diary
Blake did the job of dealing
With the body
As he was the only other boy
And he had the most experience
With that sort of thing
Being from one of the first parts
Of the country
That had been affected
When the first blizzard came
He simply picked up Prentiss
His frail, limp body
Instructed Nadia to open the door
And set him down on the front step
Then he walked back into the house
Looked at Nadia
She closed the door
Locked it
And it was over
Mariella started to say something
But Nadia cut her off--
'It's your fault.
Because you wouldn't speak to him
That's why he did it.'
Nadia stormed back upstairs
And there was the sound
Of a door slamming
Mariella went back to the library
And another door slammed
Then crying
Ginger walked over to the diary
And picked it up
She read the page it was open to
Then held it out to Blake
He took it from her
Ripped out the page
The last page
That talked about Prentiss
Before they found him in the garden
After he'd 'fallen' from the roof
Never acknowledging that he had no reason
To be up there in the first place
Blake took the page
And shoved it in his pocket
Then he grabbed Ginger by her shoulders
Not harshly
But seriously
He said--'From this point on, nobody leaves.'
Ginger nodded
Blake went to check on Mariella
But Ginger stayed where she was
And tried to stop herself
From shaking
II. Nadia
Nadia couldn't sleep alone anymore
She'd go from bed to bed
Mostly staying in Blake's
Because that was where she felt safe
Soon she was developing patterns
Every third night
She'd crawl into bed with Ginger
Even though Ginger pretended
That she wasn't there
She was still mad at Nadia
For making her be the old maid
Which meant she had to cook all the meals
And spend most of her time
In the darker parts of the house
Every fourth night
Nadia would sleep next to Mariella
Now that the two had made up
And spent all day
Chatting together in Nadia's bedroom
Talking about how much they missed Prentiss
And hushing when Blake walked by
Because he didn't like that kind of talk
As they would drift off to sleep
Nadia would ask Mariella
What she thought the page said
That was ripped out of the diary
Mariella had already figured it out
But Nadia wasn't as sharp
And she didn't notice
Prentiss' absence from the next few chapters
In the Lesser family history
It was easy to forget about Prentiss
Because the writer of the diary seemed to
And carried on as if the youngest son
Had never existed in the first place
Nadia would lay awake
Looking at Mariella
Who would look up at the ceiling
And notice the cracks in it
They would ask each other questions
Ask about sisters
Ask about mothers
Ask about games they used to play
And boys they used to have crushes on
A long time ago
Every fifth night
Nadia would sleep on the sofa in the parlor
And pretend Prentiss was still there next to her
She would claw at the cushions
And try to dig up a scent of him
Try to find something fresh
Lingering somewhere in what was antique
The morning after those nights
She'd find Ginger standing over her
Washing her face with a warm cloth
Taking away the marks of tears
And other worries
All other nights
She'd spend with Blake
Letting him kiss her neck
Letting him touch her
Letting him lull her to sleep
With his curiosity
When Ginger found her one morning
She had fallen off the sofa
And was laying on the rug
That encompassed the entire parlor
Her eyes wide open
There was a bottle next to her
That Ginger recognized from the pantry
It was clearly labeled
And Ginger had put it on a high shelf
But didn't realize why
It just seemed like you something you do
With that sort of bottle
She wasn't sure how Nadia had gotten to it
Until she went in the pantry
And found the little table
From the parlor
Pushed up against the counter
Most likely giving Nadia just enough height
To grab what she was looking for
Blake was summoned
And once he again
He took care of the body
This time not saying anything
Mariella locked herself in the library
Refusing to come out
Even when it was dinnertime
Even when Ginger made her favorite
Even when Blake pounded on the door
And demanded that she come out
It wasn't until a few nights later
When Ginger was laying in bed
That she felt another body slide next to her
And for a second she thought it was Nadia
Until she remember the sound
Of the front door slamming shut
She smelled Mariella's perfume
And rolled over so she could see her
Mariella's eyes were open so wide
Ginger almost laughed at her
'Don't let Blake know I'm here.'
'I won't.'
'I'm scared of him.'
'I know.'
'Are you?'
'Not yet.'
'Why not?'
Ginger rolled back over
And leaned down
To reach under the bed
Where she kept the diary
She brought it up
Opened to the page
About Nadia
Found in her bed
With a bottle of pills
Half empty
On her nightstand
The other half
Scattered over her body
Like some sort of painting
'Oh God, Ginger.'
'That's why I'm scared.'
'What? Why?'
'Because...'
'The next part's about Blake'
III. Blake
He found the key underneath the cabinet
And when he opened it
Blake knew he was seeing something
That he wasn't supposed to see
So when he started opening bottles
And taking sips from each of them
He felt guilty
But then wondered
If guilt wasn't an extinct idea
Since there was nobody left
To hold him accountable
For anything
Soon he found that sips
Could help him forget things
Or at least make them easier
To remember
Once that was established
Sips became gulps
Long, smooth glasses
Carried around his medicine
And that was what he called it
Because that was what Blake called it
In the diary
Ginger never let him see it anymore
Unless he asked nicely
And he didn't force it from her
Because otherwise the food would be sour
And he'd know he was the cause
Prentiss and Nadia
Didn't seem to take up
Any more room in his head
Then all the other people
He'd lost
His mother went in the first blizzard
His father in the second
And everything after that
Felt like it happened
In seconds
But that was when
He'd open the cabinet
Pull down a bottle
And disappear into the cold
Soon the day arrived
When the cabinet was filled
With nothing but empty bottles
And Blake panicked
He ran to the kitchen
And fell to the floor
In front of Ginger
Begging her for something cool
Something that could chill him
For just a bit longer
When she told him
That she had nothing to offer
He slapper her across the face
And started rooting through the pantry
Throwing food everywhere
Not caring what he damaged
Knowing somewhere
There had to be relief
Ginger screamed at him
Now she was the one begging
Telling him they were short on food
He couldn't destroy what little they had
But he didn't hear her
If he couldn't settle into the coolness
He'd settle into madness
She came at him again
This time throwing herself on him
But he tossed her off
And she hit her head on the counter
Knocking her unconscious
And he kept going
The first bullet hit grazed his ear
The second went past his arm
But the third hit him square in the chest
And that was the one that killed him
When Ginger woke up
Mariella was cleaning up the kitchen
Blake had already been dumped outside
And the gun was on the stove
Looking so innocent
Ginger looked at up at Mariella
Who had a determined stare on her face
She wanted to ask her
What she had done
But she knew
Because she had read it
She had read about Blake
Going into Ginger's room one night
The smell of alcohol on him so strong
Mariella smelled it wafting down the hall
And followed him
She waited until he had climbed on Ginger
She waited until the first scream
And then she had let him have it
And more than once
Because after all
She wasn't a very good shot
'Mariella, what...I...'
Mariella was finished cleaning
She practically stepped over Ginger
As she said--
'This house has a lot to hide.'
IV. Ginger
She found herself missing Trevor
Ginger didn't know why
But the idea of a brother
A kind and authoritative figure
Was comforting to her
Even if she had never met him
Mariella had locked herself in the library
But this time there was no coming out
Ginger would leave plates of food
In front of the library door
And the next day it would be gone
Only crumbs on it
To show the meal had been eaten
It was like living with a ghost
Ginger would hear Mariella
Going about the house at night
Sometimes cleaning things
Sometimes dirtying them
Drawing portraits of Prentiss
And Ginger
And Blake
On walls and floors
In whatever room she happened to be in
Ginger felt that she was acting like a child
And they weren't children anymore
At least Ginger didn't feel like a child
She was harder
Stronger than when they had arrived
At the mansion the diary called Overhill
And she had no tolerance
For Mariella being foolish
When she found the first bruise
She didn't believe it
They had been inside the house for so long
Ginger assumed that any threat
Had long since passed
The second bruise appeared
Then the third
And by that time
She had read enough of the diary
To know what had to happen
She stayed up until dawn
Knowing that by that time
Mariella would have gone back to the library
And would be waiting for her breakfast
To appear an hour later
Ginger had stayed up all night
Packing away as much as she could
Or as much as she could carry
Knowing she might not make it far
So what was the point after all?
She had meant to bring the diary
But somehow that didn't seem fair
It belonged to the house
It belonged to Overhill
And whomever might stay with it
So quietly she exited
Going out the back
Not wanting to see
The bodies flung on the front steps
As she took her first step out of Overhill
In what seemed like a lifetime
She heard a door open somewhere in the house
And the sound of Mariella
Calling her name
V. Mariella
The man had been walking for weeks
His skin was nothing
But a series of bruises
And he was quickly starving to death
The mansion came upon him
But he sensed it before he saw it
Like a small animal might sense a larger one
Right before the strike
He walked up the front stairs
And the smell assaulted him
When he saw the bodies
The man jumped over them
And ran into the house
There wasn't any sunlight to be found
Every inch of the place
Was covered in dust
And every floorboard made a sound
The second he stepped on them
He felt vulnerable immediately
Although being so close to death
The man didn't see the point
In fearing anything
There was a noise upstairs
He felt compelled to see what it was
And felt himself climbing the stairs
All the way up to the third floor
At the end of the hallway
He could see a door
Leading into what appeared to be
The master bedroom
The man had reached the doorway
When he saw a young girl
Sitting at a vanity
Looking at him
By gazing into the mirror
Where his reflection was lingering
Waiting to come in
The young girl spoke to him--
'This isn't my room.'
The man didn't know what to say.
'This was my sister-in-law's room.
My brother's wife.
She's gone.
He's gone.
Everyone's gone.'
This girl had been married?
There were other people here?
Or had there been?
The man was trembling
Either from hunger or discomfort
He couldn't tell which
'She was the one keeping the diary.
That's how I know who you are.'
He felt himself moving away from her
But only succeeded in going to the side
Nearly bumping into a dresser
With picture frames adorning the surface
'Prentiss was really mine.
That's what she didn't put in there.
That he was my son.
I gave him up.
My mother ordered me to.
Because my husband had died.
And the boy would have had no father.
But then my brother died.
So what was the point after all?
Can you tell me that?'
The man was unsettled by this girl
She was like a little old woman
Dressed in a shabby nightgown
Make-up smeared crudely
Across her face
'We went crazy waiting for you, you know.
That's why they're all gone.
I should be cross with you.
But I'm just so relieved you're here.'
She got up and approached him
He felt the bruises burning
As if his entire body
Was revolting against being near her
'Who--' he asked 'Who...is it you think I am?'
The young girl looked frightened
Like a surprise party was just spoiled for her
Or a present wasn't something she expected
But then she smiled and laughed
As if he was making a rather silly joke
'Why,' she said, 'What are you talking about?'
He could see she was even younger than he thought
As soon as she was within inches of him
She was just a child
Just a little girl
'We were waiting for your arrival
Don't you know that?
You had us waiting for so long.
And then everyone got sad.
Then they were gone.
But I'm still here.
And I'm so happy you came back.
Now things can be like they used to.
We can argue all night.
Just like Matthew and I used to.
Won't that be lovely?'
She smiled at him
All her teeth were missing
And her eyes looked like an animal's
He sank back against the dresser
And nearly passed out
The girl just smiled
In a kind sort of way
'Welcome back, Mr. Marsh'
