A Nest of Nightmares

Something slapped the window. Marilyn’s head jerked up, and she stared out the window. It had begun to rain, and a rising wind slung small fists of rain at the glass.

She stared out at the landscape, shrouded now by the driving rain, and wondered why this desolate rocky land should be thought of as sacred. Her mind moved vaguely to thoughts of books on anthropology which might help, perhaps works on Indians of the region which might tell her more. The library in Janeville wouldn’t have much – she had been there, and it wasn’t much more than a small room full of historical novels and geology texts – but the librarian might be able to get books from other libraries around the state, perhaps one of the university libraries . . .

She glanced at her watch, realising that school had let out long before; the children might be waiting at the bus stop now, in this terrible weather. She pushed aside the heavy green curtains.

‘Derek – ’

But the room was empty. He had already gone for the children, she thought with relief. He certainly did better at this job of being a parent than she did.

Of course, Kelly was his child; he’d had years to adjust to fatherhood. She wondered if he would buy a horse for Kelly and hoped that he wouldn’t.

Perhaps it was silly to be worried about ancient Indian curses and to fear that a long-ago event would be repeated, but Marilyn didn’t want horses in a barn where horses had once gone mad. There were no Indians here now, and no horses. Perhaps they would be safe.

Marilyn glanced down at the books still piled beside her, thinking of looking up the section about the horses. But she recoiled uneasily from the thought. Derek had already told her the story; she could check the facts later, when she was not alone in the house.

She got up. She would go and busy herself in the kitchen, and have hot chocolate and cinnamon toast waiting for the children.

The scream still rang in her ears and vibrated through her body. Marilyn lay still, breathing shallowly, and stared at the ceiling. What had she been dreaming?

It came again, muffled by distance, but as chilling as a blade of ice. It wasn’t a dream; someone, not so very far away, was screaming.

Marilyn visualised the house on a map, trying to tell herself it had been nothing, the cry of some bird. No one could be out there, miles from everything, screaming; it didn’t make sense. And Derek was still sleeping, undisturbed. She thought about waking him, then repressed the thought as unworthy and sat up. She’d better check on the children, just in case it was one of them crying out of a nightmare. She did not go to the window; there would be nothing to see, she told herself.

Marilyn found Kelly out of bed, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out the window.

‘What’s the matter?’

Kelly didn’t shift her gaze. ‘I heard a horse,’ she said softly. ‘I heard it neighing. It woke me up.’

‘A horse?’

‘It must be wild. If I can catch it and tame it, can I keep it?’ Now she looked around, her eyes bright in the moonlight.

‘I don’t think . . .’

‘Please?’

‘Kelly, you were probably just dreaming.’

‘I heard it. It woke me up, I heard it again. I’m not imagining things,’ she said tightly.

‘Then it was probably a horse belonging to one of the farmers around here.’

‘I don’t think it belongs to anyone.’

Marilyn was suddenly aware of how tired she was. Her body ached. She didn’t want to argue with Kelly. Perhaps there had been a horse – a neigh could sound like a scream, she thought.

‘Go back to bed, Kelly. You have to go to school in the morning. You can’t do anything about the horse now.’

‘I’m going to look for it, though,’ Kelly said, getting back into bed. ‘I’m going to find it.’

‘Later.’

As long as she was up, Marilyn thought as she stepped out into the hall, she should check on the other children, to be sure they were all sleeping.

To her surprise, they were all awake. They turned sleepy, bewildered eyes on her when she came in and murmured broken fragments of their dreams as she kissed them each in turn.

Derek woke as she climbed in beside him. ‘Where were you?’ he asked. He twitched. ‘Christ, your feet are like ice!’

‘Kelly was awake. She thought she heard a horse neighing.’

‘I told you,’ Derek said with sleepy smugness. ‘That’s our ghost horse, back again.’

The sky was heavy with the threat of snow; the day was cold and too still. Marilyn stood up from her typewriter in disgust and went downstairs The house was silent except for the distant chatter of Derek’s typewriter.

‘Where are the kids?’ she asked from the doorway.

Derek gave her a distracted look, his hands still poised over the keys. ‘I think they all went out to clean up the barn.’

‘But the barn is closed – it’s locked.’

‘Mmmm.’