But I Smile Anyway…

Sue’s #WritePhoto prompt:

Now many of you asked for a sequel to last week’s prompt… (did you read it? If not, click here!) I shall try, using this picture…

Through the doorway, all I can see are bones.

Or skeletons.

Rooted to the spot, I glance back at the old woman who is standing there, staring at me.

“Grace, oh my dear Grace. I have been waiting for so long… Where did you go?” She creaks over, slowly, each step looks like she’s going to fall at any moment.

I inch back until I am against the closed front door.

“Come, Grace. They are all so excited. You must meet them.”

Finding my voice, I squeak, “Who?”

“Everyone! Your whole family. We knew you’d come back one day.”

Her frail hand circles my wrist and gently pulls me. I’m scared I’ll hurt her, so instead of pulling away, I gingerly follow her. She looks ancient.

We walk towards that room. The room full of skeletons.

There is a stench of decay as we approach the door and I balk at the sight of three skeletons sat around a table set for afternoon tea; except the plates are filled with the remnants of decomposed food, teacups empty.

“Look, everyone! Look who has come back. It’s our Grace.”

Rheumy eyes look back at me, and though a cold slice of fear is pulsing through my veins, I feel a shot of sorrow join it.

“Sit down. Let me pour you tea. Oh, there’s no milk. Let me go and get some.”

She hobbles out of the door and I think this would be the ideal time to scarper, when my eye catches sight of a yellowing newspaper on the sideboard.

“Saving Grace! Can They Save Her?” the headline screamed.

I look closer to read what the article says.

And feel shock, sympathy and fear again.

She lost her daughter, Grace, when she was 14 – my age – under mysterious circumstances. Abducted from her bedroom.

Then I see the photograph.

It’s me.

Or at least it looks like me.

A shuffling sound alerts me to her entering the room again with a small jug in her hand.

It’s empty.

She sits down and indicates to an empty space next to her.

I’m not sure why, but I go and sit beside her.

She puts her withered fingers on top of mine and smiles at me.

“I’m so glad you are home Grace. I can finally sleep now.”

She sinks back into her chair and closes her eyes.

If she’s sleeping, I can sneak out.

I try and lift her hand gently off me and as I move it, it slips, and her arm falls, swinging like a dead weight.

But she doesn’t stir.

Her face is just a picture of serenity.

She’s dead. I’m sure.

Jeez, what am I going to do? I’m sat in a creep old house with a possibly dead woman, and a bunch of skeletons around a table.

My phone. Why didn’t think of that earlier?

I root around in my pocket and quickly dial my Nanna.

*

It’s been a surreal few weeks.

The police came. The ambulance came.

I had to give a statement.

She was dead, yes, and she took a lot of secrets with her, but one thing was for sure. She had been waiting for her missing daughter to come home, and seeing me had given her that release.

Of course, being dead she isn’t going to face any charges, but those skeletons? They were members of her family who had been poisoned, for some unknown reason. I don’t even know who they were.

But yesterday I had to go to the funeral. They laid her to rest at the family burial plot, at the back of the creepy house.

And it was beautiful.

Who’d have thought there was a glade in the middle of our town? Trees surrounding a small body of water. And a cluster of headstones. A pretty tranquil place to rest in peace.

Apparently there’s no other family, so the house is being cleared and sold.

Not sure I’d want to live somewhere with a history.

And that other girl who went missing? She’s still not back.

Some mysteries will never be solved.

Thursday photo prompt: Tranquil #writephoto