Craving

Tuesday was unimaginably hot. The pavements sizzled under the summer
sun's unrelenting heat and the streets were devoid of life, as if any
soul who dared out had been ignited like an ant under a magnifying
glass. Those indoors stayed put; those that were outside lay motionless
under cool tree shade or sipped frosty drinks from the comfort of an
umbrella-covered garden chair.
Julia Sullivan sat in her back garden with Mrs. Emily Carter, local
school governess and, hence, great friend.
"Why, I was only saying to David this morning," Julia said, motioning
to the newspaper that hid her summer-napping husband, "that Annabel is
sure to be an academic success. She's such a bright spark for a
seven-year-old, always surprising us with something new that she's
learnt! Isn't she David?"

"Hmm?" came the reply, amidst a stirring of newspaper. Julia tutted and
grimaced. He looked shamefully untidy, his leg hanging from the side of
the sun-lounger like a branch that needed lopping.

"Oh, I'm sure she will, Julia," Emily lied. "She's such a.....spirited
little girl," she said, feeling she had to say something, and nodded in
Annabel's direction. They turned to watch her playing at the far end of
the ample garden. She skipped in and out of the shrubs, her shoes
stirring clouds of dust from the parched earth as she played some
secret game.

Julia swirled her drink lazily whilst she gazed, the ice tinkling
against the side of the glass in a way that was pleasing to the ear.
"Annabel, make sure you come and have a cold drink in a minute! You'll
end up with sunstroke if you run around like that," she called out,
playing the good mother.

"Girls today!" Emily exclaimed. "They just seem to play like boys.
Always running around and getting hot and bothered when there are so
many gentler things they could be doing."

"Mm, yes," Julia gingerly agreed, wondering if that was a
criticism.
They sat in uneasy silence for once, Julia pretending the heat had
finally sapped her ability to chatter, Emily sipping her drink
impossibly slowly.
"Another drink, Emily?" Julia quizzed, the instant she finished
it.

From somewhere amidst the lush growth at the garden's perimeter,
Annabel shrieked.

"Annabel!" Julia cried, dropping her glass onto the hot concrete patio
stones. It shattered, remnants of liquid boiling away on the hot slabs,
but no-one noticed. Three pairs of eyes were scanning the undergrowth
for the source of the hollering, though no-one cared to get up.
Annabel came into view. Running limply, she hurried back up the garden
towards her mother, who in turn jogged across the lawn to her
frightened daughter.

"Mother, I saw something in the bushes," Annabel said shakily.

"Annabel, you made us jump! There's no reason to scream like that
unless something terrible has happened, now is there? So, what is it
you saw? An animal?"

Annabel stood biting her lip, unsure whether to explain what she'd seen
- what she thought she'd seen. She eyed Emily nervously, and her father
who had emerged from his paper to see what the fuss was all
about.
Lowering her voice to a near-whisper, she answered. "It was alive,
Mother, but I don't know what it was. I've never seen anything like it.
I'm sorry I screamed, but it surprised me."

"Now come on, Annabel! You've read too many bedtime stories young lady!
It's just a frightened mouse or hedgehog, not a tiger! Let's go and
see, shall we?" She took Annabel's hand and marched her across the
lawn, if only to escape Emily's disapproving stares.
"Right, let's find your wild animal. Now where did you see it?" she
said, proceeding nervously into the bushes at her daughter's direction.
Where's my husband when you need him? she thought, conscious of her
dislike of foxes and such things.
Cautiously lifting rhododendron foliage to reveal what lay beneath,
there was a sudden crackle of leaves and twigs and a startled blackbird
emerged, brushing Julia's arm as it made its escape. Then next-door's
black cat followed, clattering up the fence in a desperate attempt to
catch a quick snack. Julia shrieked and fell backwards onto the lawn,
just for a moment believing that a wild animal really was hiding out in
there.
The sound of Emily and David chuckling carried from the comfort of the
shady patio.

"There you go," Julia said, tension in her voice. "It was nothing. Now
don't we both look very silly?"

Annabel stood and watched her mother striding back up the garden. She
waited until it was safe to mutter unheard, then said, softly, "But
Mother, it wasn't a cat or a bird. It was silver and crystal and it
sparkled like the sunshine. And it wasn't fierce or scary, it just
surprised me. That's all."

She knew Mother wouldn't understand.

That night she kissed her parents goodnight before sneaking out of bed
to spend hours skimming through every picture book on her stuffed
bookshelf. Somewhere, there had to be a picture resembling the creature
from her garden encounter. It was midnight before she found it, but it
was worth the wait.
Carefully pressing the pages flat against the spine, her heart beating
in anticipation, she peered at the image captured in luxurious tints
before her eyes: Lustrous wings in colours that captured the sunlight,
delicate yet magnificent. A pixie-like face set beneath a wild crop of
blond hair of the finest silk. There was no question in Annabel's mind.
This was precisely what she had seen in that fleeting glimpse this
morning: a fairy!

Unable to sleep, Annabel was in the garden by eight. It was another
unbearably hot day, but at this hour, the air was still pleasant.
Mother was out shopping, and Annabel knew that her father would be too
busy fixing or painting something to concern himself with her
mischief.
Convinced she hadn't imagined her discovery and sure that, alone, she
stood a better chance of repeating her fairy sighting, she chased in
and out of every garden shrub, lifting branches, peering behind fence
panels and examining every nook and shadow. She searched endlessly
until, heat-sapped and dejected, she could search no more.
Nothing lurked or flitted in the garden this morning.
"Perhaps Mother frightened you away," she said, dejectedly. And
besides, she thought, she'll be home soon, then I won't be able to
search any more.
Disappointed, she retraced her steps, then picked up speed to run along
the alleyway at the side of the house where the spiders lurked and out
into the front garden for a last, hopeful look around. As she examined
her bare arms for cobwebs, she ran straight into something. Or rather,
someone.

"Hey, steady there, young lady!" he said, and lifted her onto her feet.
"Are you okay, Miss?"

Annabel stared up at him. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she
said, sensibly. But something about him, his kind face and mischievous
grin, reminded her of her dear Grandfather. She let slip a smile.

"In a hurry, are we?" he said, beaming.

"Kind of," she said, hypnotised by his friendly blue eyes. "I was
searching for....." she paused, feeling a little silly. "I was
searching for something."

"Ah, well that would be fairies then," the strange man said knowingly,
and winked.

Annabel's eyes grew wide and she gasped. "How did you know?" she said,
feeling her tiny heart thumping.

"Well, isn't that what all little girls look for? Or at least, the ones
who have a kind soul and a warm heart. And you look like such a
creature!" he grinned, and touched the tip of her nose with his
finger.
"Here," he motioned to his pocket. "As you look like a nice little
girl, and as you're looking for something special, I might be able to
help you."
Annabel watched eagerly as he rummaged in his jacket pocket, removing,
then examining, then replacing seemingly dozens of curious items before
he finally selected one.
"There you are!" he exclaimed, bending down to present it at eye level
between his finger and thumb.

Annabel stared at it. It wasn't quite what she had expected. It just
looked like a small, dried-up grey pellet.
"What is it?" she said, evidently disappointed.

"Well, I can see you're not very excited about it, eh? And why would
you be? It looks pretty ordinary, doesn't it?" He waited for the little
girl to nod. "But if you thought that, you'd be wrong. For some of the
most exciting things in the world look the most ordinary."
He gazed at the whatever-it-was in wonderment, as if he held not a
pellet but a brilliant cut diamond between his fingers. His fascination
raised Annabel's curiosity.

"What is it then?" she asked, hopping impatiently.

"Ah," he gasped. "I see you're inquisitive now! See? It's got inside
your pretty head already, working its magical ways."

"Magical? I didn't think there was such a thing as magic?"

At that, he stepped back and stood up straight. "Yes! Oh yes! Don't you
believe in magic?" he asked in astonishment.
"That wouldn't do at all! It only works if you believe! Well, I guess
I'll have to find another little girl who really does."
He released the object from between finger-and-thumb and caught it in
his palm, then motioned towards his pocket.

Annabel clasped her hands in anguish and pleaded with the stranger.
"Oh, no! Please! I do believe in fairies and magic! And I really would
like to know what it is!"

His hand barely an inch above his coat pocket, he stopped and eyed her
suspiciously. Annabel tried to look very sorry. "Well.....if you're
sure, and I suppose you did tell me you were searching for fairies,
then I suppose you can have it."
Quick as a flash, he took her hand and opened it up, placing the pellet
inside. Then he turned and made his way down the drive without a word
of explanation, crunching the dry gravel underfoot.

"But who are you? And what is it? And how will it help me?" she cried
out, her hand tightly clenched around the gift.

Without turning around, he called back to her.

"Who am I?
Just an old man whose time is done.
What is it?
Why, it's a seed.
And how will it help you?"

At that, he stopped and looked back at her. He took a deep breath and
let out a long, serious sigh.
"If you want to see fairies all the time, it will help you, but only if
you believe. It is a seed that will grow in your thoughts and your
dreams if you want it to. And if you do want it to, you'll know what to
do."
Then he waved, turned on his heels and walked briskly away.

Annabel waved back, then dared to open her hand and peer in. The seed
looked so very ordinary, but then seeds always did. She often watched
her father grow seeds, sometimes even helping him plant them in the
potting shed. And she knew precisely how the most lifeless and boring
little seeds could grow into the most astonishing flowers.
But what would this seed do, and where should she plant it?

As the house was quiet and cool, Annabel chose to spend the rest of the
morning indoors. She placed the seed carefully next to her favourite
doll on the shelf. "You can watch over it for me, Jennifer," she
whispered, moving Jennifer's head to look at it.
She skipped over to her small pine bookcase and selected her favourite
book of fairies.
Flicking the pages, she hoped to find a story that told her about
magical seeds, whilst occasionally eyeing her own seed to make sure it
hadn't disappeared.
Engrossed in her book, she barely noticed the front door rattle open,
then close. Footsteps on the stairs merely wandered into her ear,
through her brain and out again. Only her bedroom door creaking open
alerted her.

The seed!

"Annabel? Are you in here, dear?" Mother said, entering the room laden
with several bags of shopping. "You might like to see this. I've bought
you a fantastic dress for your party next Thursday, come and
see!"
She stood by the door, frantically rummaging for the correct bag.

Annabel stared wide-eyed at the seed, calculating whether she could
reach it without Mother noticing. If she were to see it, she would want
to know what it was, and she was an expert at seeing through lies. Then
it would end up in the bin.
"Oh, brilliant, Mother!" she said, dancing across the room in feigned
excitement to a position strategically between shelf and Mother. Her
pulse raced as she watched and waited for the right moment to snatch
the seed into her pocket, but her nerve failed her.
We don't have secrets in this house, Annabel thought, imagining what
Mother would say.

"Oh, it must be here somewhere," Mother sighed. "Unless, of course, I
left it in the car. Stay here and I'll check."

Yes!
She waited for Mother to turn away, then thrust her hand out to rescue
the seed. But before she had it safely in her grasp, a sound froze her
to the spot.

"Oh, no, here it is after all," Mother said, reappearing in the doorway
with a glittery blue party dress produced from a stylish fashion-shop
bag.

Arm still outstretched and hovering a hair's breadth from the seed,
Annabel's mind whirred frantically. At any moment, Mother would look up
to search for delight in her little daughter's face, but instead she
would see the seed and a terrified, very guilty-looking little girl.
Any moment now.....
Seizing her last chance, Annabel snatched up the seed, her eyes fixated
on her mother in fear of being caught. Then, the unthinkable happened:
whether she had noticed her daughter's twitchiness, Annabel didn't
know, but just as she had the seed at chest height and ready to drop
into her top pocket, Mother's head jerked up and looked straight at
her.
Without stopping to think, she popped the seed into her mouth and
pretended to yawn, praying she had evaded detection.

"What do you think of the dress then?" Mother said, poker-faced.

She didn't notice, thought Annabel. "It's beautiful," she replied,
trying her best to sound convincing with a seed in her mouth. She hoped
it didn't have germs.

"Are you chewing gum, young lady?" Mother frowned.

She shook her head.
She saw it!, thought Annabel in despair. Even if Mother hadn't taken
the seed away from her when it was still on the shelf, she would
certainly do so now. Chewing a seed? What a stupid thing for a little
girl to do!

"Then what are you eating, Annabel? I can see you're chewing
something."

She tried to persuade the seed into the far corner of her mouth with
her tongue, hoping Mother wouldn't notice. Further and further back it
went; too far, in fact, and it slipped to the back of her throat. Short
of coughing it up (and then it really would end up in the bin), it was
beyond rescue and it was beginning to choke her.
She panicked and swallowed hard.

"Sorry, Mother. I took a sweet from the cupboard and I just swallowed
it accidentally," she mumbled. Her face was a picture of remorse; and
not, as Mother thought, at having stolen a forbidden sweet.

Annabel ate her tea slowly, contemplating the onset of a terrible bout
of stomach ache that never arrived. As it became plain that she had
done herself no harm, her concern turned to annoyance that she had lost
the seed. She knew that she would never see that strange gentleman
again.
Feeling in no mood to enjoy the evening, she mumbled a "goodnight" to
Mother and Father and traipsed off to her room. Unable to even look at
the fairy book, she left it strewn with the others on the floor and
picked up her doll, Jennifer, to keep her company in sleep.
"I'm so tired, Jennifer. I know it's early, but I can hardly stay
awake, and anyway, it's been such a horrible day." She held her doll
close and shut her eyes and, within moments, had nodded off.

Later, Mother and Father retired to bed, unheard by Annabel who was far
away. She didn't feel them kiss her forehead, or hear them close the
door tight.

The house was silent, save for the reassuring tick of the kitchen
clock.

Then: the dreams began!

The bedroom was silent and still, save for the curtain flapping in the
breeze of an open window, but Annabel's mind was restless. From the
vacuum of sleep came inky darkness, swirling up to grasp her unguarded
in sleep and begin to drag her down, struggling, fighting.
She let out a whimper into the stifling air, her tiny figure rolling in
the bedclothes.
A steady whine accompanied the swirling void, rising in pitch and
intensity as she became drawn further into it. Petrified, she tried to
move, to awaken, but the force was too great and she was paralysed in
slumber.
Somewhere in her thoughts, she remembered how to scream. She tried it,
calling "Father!" in her imagination and hoping it would somehow carry
to her lips. But in the dark room, her mouth only sucked in the
darkness and gulped silently.

Too deep, too far!

Realising her fate, she yielded and slid down into the whirling mass.
It didn't seem so frightening after that. And just as she thought she
would fall for all eternity, the swirling slowed and the noise ceased,
and she appeared to be floating down into a garden.

Into her garden!

She touched down gently onto the lawn wearing her new summer dress on a
beautiful, blue-skied afternoon. Mother and Father were there, and
Emily too. She looked at them sat under parasol shade, then laughed and
leapt away, dancing across the lawn, until she came to the border where
the bushes grew.
Taking a leaf in her fingers, she peeled it back, revealing the plant's
dark secret interior. And there, sat on a branch cross-legged, was the
most splendid fairy she could ever have imagined.
She shrieked with delight!

"Are you okay, Annabel?"

Mother had heard her! She mustn't see! "Yes, Mother, I'm fine," she
called, praying Mother wouldn't come her way.
The fairy laughed the sweetest and faintest laugh, then flitted from
out of the bush and onto Annabel's hand. Then she whistled an almost
inaudible tune and all at once, on command, a dozen more fairies
appeared from their hidden, magical places.
The air buzzed with fairies, a swarm of tiny creatures whose wings
glinted brilliantly in the sunlight. They danced the air in formation,
chattering and giggling as Annabel giggled too, tugging strands of her
hair and pulling playfully at her clothes.
"Oh, you're so wonderful, I want to be here forever," Annabel giggled.
She reached out to gently touch one of them, each no larger than her
hand and fragile as a dandelion clock.

Then mother called again, from some distant place. "Annabel dear? You
must come and have something to drink, it's such a hot day."

Yes, Annabel thought. It is rather. And now that I think of it, I am
rather thirsty.

She looked at the fairies. "Stay and play!" they said in a choir of
tiny voices. They were such fun. But then, she was so thirsty.
So very thirsty.

"No, I must go.....Mother is calling," she said, trying to leave. "I
feel so thirsty all of a sudden." She began to move but the fairies
pulled her clothes and tugged her skin.

"Stay! Please stay!" they chirped. Somehow, she was unable to move. Her
legs were fixed to the spot and the fairies held her, smaning
mischievously as she struggled in vain to free herself. She tried to
cry out but her throat.....it croaked and clacked in the absence of
moisture. The air parched it, her tongue swelling until she gasped for
air.

I need a drink!, she tried to scream, but she could only think it.
Please let me go, Mother is calling and I NEED a drink!

So thirsty!

SO THIRSTY!

MOTHER!

Annabel sat bolt upright in bed and heaved air into her lungs.

Her heart thumped hard, drumming her chest like it might burst out at
any moment. Instinctively, she wiped her brow. She was so hot, yet the
skin was papery and dry, her bedclothes and night-dress too.
Waiting a moment, she let the cool breeze from the bedroom window
absorb some of the heat. Her tongue darted around her mouth, searching
for moisture that wasn't there. She was thirsty after all; that's what
had woken her. So real, she thought, smiling. I could feel them, hear
them; even touch them!
She remembered the seed, and what the old man had said. Perhaps the
seed was for me!
Then a queasy feeling began to well in the pit of her stomach, like the
feeling of sunstroke she'd had last summer. Goodness, she was thirsty,
really thirsty!
The unpleasant feeling in her stomach became an urge to vomit; she had
to get to the bathroom, get something to drink. She swung her legs over
the side of the bed. Mother must have been right all along; she wasn't
drinking enough in the hot weather.
Stumbling into the bathroom in the darkness, she closed the door,
attempting not to wake anyone. The feel of the cold brass tap in her
hand seemed to ease the sickness; she turned it slowly until the water
flowed cool and steady. Tipping her head, she drank straight from it,
gulping water to satisfy the cries of her desiccated body. Then, when
she had to stop to breathe, she reached out in the dark room for the
water glass and, with fumbling wet fingers, brought it to the tap to
fill it.
She drank it in seconds, then filled again. She was the human
plug-hole, gurgling and draining an endless supply of tap water. Again
and again she drank, until her stomach seemed to bulge like a waterbed,
sloshing around under her night-clothes. Only then was she satisfied,
her skin and lips moist again and her heart no longer racing.
The feeling was quite hard to describe. It wasn't as though she wanted
to drink. It was as though she had to.

Three times more that night, she returned to the bathroom for
more.

Annabel sat at the kitchen table the next morning and munched buttered
toast. She swallowed every mouthful with a swig of warm tea until the
cup was empty.
"Mother, can I have some water please?"

"Annabel, that's two cups of tea you've had, and in grown-up mugs too,
yet you still want a glass of water? Are you okay?" Mother
frowned.

"Yes, Mother, I'm fine."

"I heard you going to the bathroom in the night several times,
Annabel."

"I was thirsty then too, Mother. It was very warm last night." She
looked nonchalantly at her father as he read the morning paper with an
accompanying mug of coffee.

"David, do you think Annabel looks pale? She seems to be drinking
rather a lot. David?"

"Mmm? Oh, yes she looks fine. Do you feel okay, Annabel?"

"Yes, Father, I feel fantastic," Annabel exclaimed, grinning. She did,
actually; it was the most curious feeling, but since she had been
drinking so much water, she felt so alive.

"Good," said Father. "See? You can stop fussing. The girl says she's
fine."

Mother scowled her 'what do you know' look at him and poured Annabel
another drink.
She knew when there was something wrong with her own
daughter.....

And her suspicions only grew. Over the coming days, Annabel drank ever
more. At first she would ask for drinks every half an hour. At night,
Julia heard her going back and forth, back and forth, filling and
drinking. Julia convinced herself it was simply a combination of hot
weather and a little girl who never stopped playing, never stopped
running.
Then Annabel ate less and less until she merely nibbled at dinner and
tasted breakfast. "I'll have something later," she would lie. But she
looked fine. In fact, she looked radiant and healthy, quite strikingly
so.
Neither was she losing weight, as Mother insisted on weighing her
morning and night. It seemed peculiar indeed, but David somehow always
reassured her. "It's just a fad! All little girls do this. She looks
healthy enough, doesn't she? If she starts losing weight, then you can
worry," he would say, dismissively.

But then everything had appeared to return to normal.

"Annabel, this behaviour must stop," Mother had said one afternoon,
when Annabel had asked for the day's seventh glass of water. "If you
really need that much water, we shall call the doctor and find out
what's wrong with you, because normal people don't drink that
much."

At that, Annabel's stomach had knotted in protest. She tried not to
show it, but she knew the drinking couldn't stop. It wouldn't let her
stop.
"Okay, Mother," she said, co-operatively. "I won't drink any
more."

And she had stopped, there and then. It had all seemed too easy, and
there was a good reason why. Annabel was a clever little girl.
Julia found that out some time later as she tidied her daughter's room.
Reaching down the side of the bed to tuck in the bed-sheet, her hand
struck something solid.
She lifted it out onto the duvet. It was her glass measuring jug,
half-full of water. Suspicions aroused, she shifted the bed back from
the wall then knelt across it to peer over the side. There, lined up
neatly along the wall, was an incredible array of jugs, beakers and
glasses, each one brim full with water. Her mouth gaped open, waiting
patiently for her mind to fill it with an explanatory word.
She picked up the measuring jug and, shaking her head in dismay, strode
out of the house and into the garden. Annabel was standing on the lawn,
watching her father watering plants.

"Annabel!"

They turned in unison to see Julia marching towards them, jug in hand
and a flustered look about her.
Annabel knew exactly what was coming.

"Annabel, I want to know why you've hidden all of this water behind
your bed after we told you to stop?"

Annabel looked forlornly at her mother and held her father's hand. It
was warm and comforting. "I'm very thirsty, that's all. I fill them
with water so I don't have to worry you or Father."

"How many of them are there?" asked Father, gesturing at the measuring
jug.

"Oh, about a dozen or so. Perhaps more," said Mother.

"Annabel, you can't possibly need all of that water?" Father asked,
softly. He peered down, casting a shadow over the little girl that held
his four fingers so gently.

"Oh, yes, Father. I fill them all up every morning to drink during the
day and then fill them again to last through the night," she said,
matter-of-factly.

He looked at her angel-face. A curious feeling that he couldn't quite
put his finger on was creeping down his spine. The more he looked at
Annabel, the more disturbing it felt. Then he noticed how the fingers
that were wrapped loosely around his own felt curiously brittle, like
autumn leaves.
My God, now even I'm being paranoid, he thought. This was his daughter,
after all, yet he felt repulsed by her, for some reason. He wanted to
let go of her hand but he didn't; he held on, ashamed of himself.
He reached out to stroke her hair, not to show her affection, but to
test his intuition. His hand glided across the top of her skull,
feigning a father's loving touch but secretly feeling the surface,
measuring it. It felt too soft, like jelly or rotten flesh, as
if.....
He took his hand away and tried not to think any more.

Julia was watching him, waiting for him to be decisive, but that wasn't
going to happen.
"Right," she said, determined to take action.
"Annabel, you are not to drink so much water. I'm taking the containers
away and you can have water only when you ask for it. I'm going to call
the doctor too, and we'll see what's wrong with you."

Somewhere in the bushes, something moved, making the undergrowth
shudder.
Annabel paled visibly. She felt the midday sun leeching the moisture
from her body, shrivelling her like a currant. She looked at the glass
jug, at the trickle of water that swilled inside it as Mother waved it
around, shrieking. She licked her lips carefully, feeling the
desperate, unstoppable need to drink crescendo once more.

"No," she said, raising her voice in a sudden backlash. "I need the
water! I have to drink it!" Her eyes were pleading but fiercely
determined. She let go of Father's hand.

"Annabel, you will do as we tell you to!" Julia said shakily, noticing
the ghostly transformation of the little girl as if her threatening
words had struck the child a physical blow. Her eyes were so sunken and
dark, her child-peach skin faded and grey. And she looked so
angry.....

"NO!" Annabel shouted, and was off and running back towards the house.
She struck the glass jug as she ran past, sending it soaring through
the air to bounce across the lawn.

"David!" Julia shouted, looking to her husband, but he was gone
too.

"Call the doctor, Julia. I'll calm her down," he shouted, running
towards the house.

He thundered up the stairs, but Annabel was ahead of him. She dived
through the bathroom door and closed it desperately fast, locking it
mere seconds before Father reached it. He tried the handle, then stood
listening at the door.
"Annabel? Let me in, honey!", he pleaded. He could hear the hiss of the
sink tap running.

Inside, Annabel was gulping water by the gallon, reserving as much as
she could in these stolen moments. She filled the sink, drinking from
the tap as it gushed and flowed. When the sink reached the overflow,
she drank deeply, siphoning the water with her lips faster than the tap
could refill it.

"Annabel, open the door sweetheart! Please, Daddy only wants to make
sure you're okay!" He thumped the door with his fist.

Part of Annabel cried out to let him in. Part of her just wanted to
stop, to open the door and hold onto dear Father, whom she loved so
much. But the thirst, the desire, drove her on uncontrollably. The
water didn't seem to be quenching her any more. Her stomach bloated
with the weight, then as she watched, it somehow contracted beneath her
T-shirt.
Where was it all going? She couldn't remember the last time she'd been
to the toilet, yet she wasn't gaining any weight.....

Then it began to happen. Something was moving, swelling up inside her
like a balloon. She lifted her T-shirt again, only this time, she could
see something writhing beneath her skin. Moving like a thousand coiled
wet eels, it searched her organs, slipping and sliding from heart to
lungs, through liver and stomach. "No!" she shrieked, collapsing to her
knees in horror.
Her cry alerted Father once more, who again banged the door with his
fist and twisted the handle frantically. She could hear him shouting
but it seemed so far away, somewhere else.....
Her limbs were beginning to spasm. Her arms buckled inwards and her
legs twisted uncontrollably until she was coiled, foetus-like, on the
floor. She could do nothing; her limbs twitched violently at her
command, but she could not unravel herself.
She tried to call out to Father but the words were trapped somewhere,
rattling around in her head like dry beans.
Her eyes closed as her lungs inhaled their last and her heart ceased
beating; she heard it stop, the thump-thump decreasing in force and
rhythm until it relaxed and was silent. The subsiding hiss of blood
around her body signalled the end.
I'm dying, she thought.
But she was still aware, somehow alive in a dead body. It was as though
she had withdrawn like a dying, wrinkled balloon, residing inside
herself like a tiny bubble of concentrated Annabel.

Something outside tapped on the bathroom window.

David listened at the door. Silence.

"Annabel?" he shouted desperately. Nothing. "Annabel, stay back from
the door, I'm coming in!"
Backing up to the staircase, he charged. Despite his size, he gained
momentum and struck the door a fierce blow. It made an uneasy cracking
sound but failed to yield. He retreated and tried the same manoeuvre,
this time splitting the frame. Once more and it exploded, shards of
wood spraying across the room as the door collapsed, sending him
sprawling into the room.
As the air filled with dust and wood debris, he heard a crash as the
window pane shattered. He paid it no attention, determining that his
forced entry had hurled something through it. There was mess
everywhere, wood dust and splinters, most of it strewn across the tiled
floor.

From outside, there was a loud Thud.
Julia screamed. It distracted David just for a moment. His concern was
for Annabel.
Stepping into the room, he crouched by his little girl. She looked
perfect, but peculiarly still, like a doll frozen in porcelain. Her
eyes stared upwards, unblinking; little unseeing glass marbles that
were too bright somehow, too perfect.
Staring at her, he reached out, his hand hovering just above her face.
He hesitated; something wasn't right. This wasn't Annabel, this was
just.....
His eyes widened, as if in comprehension of something unseen.

He touched her lips.

He touched them oh-so-gently, but his fingers broke the skin, beautiful
skin that was now a crisp, paper-thin shell. They fractured the
surface, shattering it with a brittle crackling sound that made him
draw back, shuddering in horror. Unable to believe it, he removed his
hand, but too late! The husk was now faceless, he could see the hollow
inside, how delicate that surface was.

"Annabel," he grieved. "Where have you gone?"

Downstairs, Julia stood at the window, trembling. Something had landed
on the lawn and darted lightning-quick into the bushes at the end of
the garden. And before disappearing, it had turned to look at her. Its
image was imprinted indelibly in her mind.

The perfect, translucent skin. The tearful eyes. That familiar, tiny
face.