Skeptical
Chapter One
I had never been one to question a mother’s rules when I started a new babysitting gig. Bed time is at this time, feed her this not that, we’re organic so no sugar and nothing processed…etc. Nothing really phased me nowadays. I was good at following rules and the most important rule was and always will be, don’t let my baby die. So I watch the baby, I feed the baby, I put the baby down for naps, and deal with dirty diapers. It’s all the usual. It’s a side job, I keep telling myself, I’ll get a real job soon. Not that I’m complaining, I mean most families pay you your weight in gold to watch their child for half of the day.
This time was different. This time I was moving across the country. Seattle, Washington to Atlanta, Georgia. Why? I got an offer I couldn’t refuse. A family needed a live in nanny, as the previous two weren’t up to the families high standard demands. I was trying to build a demo reel so I could apply to a film school down there, and it seemed like the perfect situation. No rent, no groceries, and no worries other than watching a kid all day for most of the week. I had a few friends in the south, thanks to lots of online communities for sci-fi nerds, and I knew they could get me actors for my shorts. It was time to make the move. I said my tearful goodbyes to friends and family, sold most of my stuff save for my laptop, clothes, and camera equipment, got a first class ticket — courtesy of the lovely southern family I’d be living with, and I was landing 6 hours later.
If I had to describe Georgia in only a few words…
It’s like walking into hell and Satan left the oven door open.
Jesus it was hot!
Nearly everyone was sweating and drinking on sweet tea and I bought a hefty size of the stuff at McDonalds and felt no shame as I downed it an hour later in the back of the Tesla that picked me up. The car had AC but it’s like I could still feel the moist heat seeping through every crack in the car. How did people live in this? Most importantly, why did they continue to live here?
When we pulled onto the freeway I expected to get off at the Downtown Atlanta exit, but the driver kept going. Said the parents worked in Downtown, but didn’t live there. Sure they had a lot or two there for when they had to work late, but their true home was out in the boonies. He didn’t say that word, but by the way he described it we’d be heading south and into the swamp lands.
We got off the freeway and started taking backroads passed a place called Peach Tree city, and then further in. I asked how long the drive usually was for the Mister and Misses and the driver said about 1.5hrs each way. Jesus. And they know what I look like? I asked. He nodded. They weren’t racists. In fact their ancestors owned one of the only working plantations that didn’t beat their slaves.
How comforting.
What I assumed was an hour later, we finally pulled down a pathway that looked similar to the one in Forrest Gump. You know the path to his house that was about a mile long with trees on each side? That’s exactly what it looked like. There were peach trees on every side and these peaches were FAT! One fell into the grass and I could have sworn that it was nearly as big as my head. There were dozens of servants and workers who waved to the driver as we pulled into the turnaround. He put the car in park right outside the stairs that led up to the main house.
There was a butler there, Earl, a man who looked like he had survived three wars and was waiting on another. What was left of his hair was gray patches all around the sides of his head and possibly the back. I couldn’t tell because every one of his movements was straight and rigged, like he would break if he bent too far.
I got out of the car and walked up the stairs and introduced myself. Earl had trouble pronouncing Caitlyn — I think he had a stutter — so he just called me Miss Cat. The rest of the help would take care of my things and while they did that Earl took me on a tour of the estate. He handed me a printout of what was a poorly drawn map, but I assumed he drew it, as the lines on the page were shaky. I thanked him, and just to make him feel good, I kept my eyes on it during the majority of the tour and marked it up with a pen. He smiled whenever I made a star on it.
To the east was the kitchen and the library. I couldn’t eat in the library and I wasn’t allowed to bring books into the kitchen. That was the rule. There was weefee as Earl pronounced it and he was told it was the best network they could get for how far out they were. Cell phone reception wasn’t ideal but you could get a call in. If not there were three phone lines throughout the estate. I tried my best to remember all of this.
To the west was the swimming pool and recreation center. There was a television, boardgames, and instruments. If there wasn’t something I liked, the family would be more than happy to buy it for me. I was really starting to like this place.
If I needed a ride anywhere, I could call any one of the three coachmen and they would come and pick me up. There were no guests after midnight, no alcohol allowed outside of the kitchen or my bedroom, and I had to memorize the morning schedule of Mister and Misses so I would be up with them and the baby.
The most important two rules, and these ones Earl put plenty of emphasis on, were — that at night before I went to bed and shut the lights off, I had to lock my bedroom door. And second, that I should never, ever, say my name or anyone else’s name while inside the mansion.
He looked me deep in the eyes as he told me this and I felt a chill come over me. There was something behind his cloudy blue eyes that hinted at a darkness he couldn’t express. Something worse than the many wars he had been in.
We finally ended the tour in the main building and Earl led me to my room on the third floor. My bags were already there and my laptop was plugged in and on top of a very fine mahogany desk. He said that if I ever needed anything, then I should text him. He took out his very crisp, shiny, iPhone, and beamed with pride. I got his number, sent him a smiley face, and then allowed jet-lag to sink in and take me away to dream land.
Something was jiggling the doorknob.
I woke, groggy with heavy eyelids and felt around for the light switch to my lamp. The curtain to the canopy princess bed got in the way and I nearly fell out of bed reaching for the side table. This bed was way too big for me, but I enjoyed stretching out.
The door was open.
“Hello?”
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Though I could hardly see a thing, I could feel the presence of someone at the edge of my bed. They were breathing heavily. Their shoes were loud and clicking. The old wood floor groaned under their weight.
I finally found the light switch and turned it on.
SLAM!
The door was shut.
I never thought it was possible to sweat and shiver at the same time.
With the morning sun came the realization that I had slept with the lights on. The Georgian sun was unforgiving and I didn’t have the energy to pull the curtains shut so I got out of bed, showered in their ridiculously lavish bathroom, and headed all the way to the other side of the house for breakfast.
The incident in the night was fleeting to the back of my mind, and I brushed it off as the house just being old. However it did give me a good idea for a horror short. I wondered if Mister and Misses would give me permission to shoot on the grounds?
After walking down the same hall twice and entering the same room from three different doors, I finally found the kitchen. Once I discovered all the appliances, I made every college students favorite breakfast. Eggo waffles, bacon, toast, and orange juice. Cheap and efficient. I was actually surprised they had frozen waffles, but maybe I wasn’t the only help that liked junk food.
I sat at the table and took out my phone and saw that it was still set to Seattle time. I went into the settings and fixed that right up and wasn’t too surprised to see that I was actually up pretty late. Normally I’m a 6am riser, and though that’s true, in Georgia that means I’m a 9am riser. I had already missed Mister and Misses and I quickly shoveled the rest of the food down my throat and ran all the way to the babies room on the fourth floor, where the master bedrooms were.
Once upstairs and out of breath, I walked to the bedroom marked Junior and pushed it open gently incase the kid was asleep. He wasn’t. And he wasn’t a baby either. He was maybe four or five years old, brunet hair, and bright green eyes. And he was dressed and eating dry cereal at his play table while coloring.
“Hi…”
He looked up at me and smiled. He picked up a piece of paper and handed it to me:
Dear Miss Kitty,
Don’t feel ashamed for waking up late. We figured you’d be tired from the trip and had the Butler, Mister E. take care of Junior until you were situated. Misses and I will be out at work today and will not be home until late. Please keep Junior entertained and fed until his bedtime which is promptly at 7pm. Junior knows his routine but just so you can have it written down it’s dinner at 5:00, bath time at 6:00pm, and bedtime with the door locked and lights off at 7pm. What you do during the day we leave to your professional judgement. Junior has his schedule on the wall and the drivers will be waiting outside for you to escort him to and fro. Today he has nothing scheduled and we leave it to you both to get along and bond. Just so you know, Junior is a mute. He cannot speak or utter a single word. He does have a slate that he will carry with him and write down whatever he needs in single words. We highly encourage you to read to him as it helps develop his language and writing skills.
Best,
Mister and Misses
Junior had continued to color on his table while I finished the letter. They seemed like very chill parents which was strange to me because normally I had a whole meet and greet with them and then a ten page manual of how to take care of their child. Then one of them would shadow me or leave open six nanny-cams, and once they felt comfortable with me they left maybe one nanny-cam on and texted me throughout the day. What a difference.
I sat on the floor next to Junior and looked at his drawing. It wasn’t anything that took a particular shape. Just a mesh of colors that went in circles.
“Can I color with you?” I asked him.
Another big grin and Junior nodded his head.
The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Junior and I went for a swim in the heated pool, then made cupcakes together, and finished off the day with reading a book about a pig that loved peaches. When the sun started to set he started to lose his enthusiasm. He kept looking over his shoulder and staring like someone was watching him.
He took out the slate — which turned out to be an electronic slate that he used his finger on — and wrote out: movie? I looked at the time and it was nearly dinner time.
“Sorry buddy, but mom and pops said we gotta stick to your schedule.”
He frowned. Erased his word and wrote: please?
He pouted and gave me puppy eyes. I smiled, he was adorable.
“Maybe tomorrow when we have more time.”
“TIME!”
SHIT!
I fell out of my chair at the sound of the voice, or at least…I thought it was a a voice. Junior had his head down on the table with his ears covered and I looked around to see if anyone had come into the room while we weren’t looking.
Empty.
Just us two.
My heart was racing.
Junior had begged me to keep the hallway light on and the bathroom door open while he got ready for bed. While he brushed his teeth he kept staring at the doorway in through the mirror, like someone was standing there.
I’m not one to believe in ghosts or any of that shit…I like getting scared during Halloween, sure…I’ll even make a horror movie just because I like the mythology and the psychology behind it…but Jesus Christ, did this place give me the heeby-jeebies.
Once tucked into bed, Junior curled up in the center of it and pulled the blankets and two of his pillows over his head. I didn’t say anything about it, but I turned the lock on the back of his door, turned the light off, and shut it. I even jiggled the doorknob to make sure it was locked. It was weird, this whole lock the door situation. I would also have to carry my extra set of keys with me. I couldn’t lock this kid in his room every night without a way in, incase of an emergency. This whole situation had me rethinking if this was worth it.
To get my mind off the sheer creepiness of it all, I took my phone out and texted a friend of mine, Alyssa, asking if she wanted to visit tomorrow. Perhaps a second skeptic would put my mind at ease.
