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Description
He had warned her about the book the day she came in. He told her not to touch the thing, to just leave his shop and never return. She didn't listen to him, but when do they ever listen to him? He tells them to stay off his lawn, they do it any way. He tells them not to go to the old mansion down the road, they do it anyway. He tells them to go away… they persistently stick around. He should've known telling her it was dangerous would just spur her want to take the book, but what were his other options? It seemed, to him, as if her fate was an inevitable point in time. But he had warned her, he'd tried. It wasn't his fault that she didn't realize he was right until it was too late.

Charlotte was just the same as any other girl that grew up in a small town. She was polite, well-behaved and incredibly smart. But underneath it all was a burning desire for something, anything interesting to happen. Charlotte was getting tired of living in a town with the exact same people she'd known since birth, doing the exact same things she'd been doing for years. She just wanted to get out, but with two years left in high school she knew she wasn't going anywhere.
Charlotte was forced awake early on Saturday morning, as usual, by the bright rays of sunlight streaming through the skylight above her bed. She groaned loudly and turned over, pulling her pillow over her head just as she did every day. You'd think maybe she'd get something to cover the sun roof, but no. No matter how many times she declared that she was going to cover it up, it never ended up happening. Instead she'd stay in bed for a couple more minutes, trying to drift back into sleep. Eventually, she would give up and drag herself out of bed and downstairs where her mother and father would be making breakfast.
This morning was slightly different, though. Her mother was cooking pancakes alone in the kitchen, no sign of her father anywhere. "Oh, good morning sweetheart. How was your sleep?"
"I need to put something over the sunroof," Charlotte groaned, plopping herself onto one of the bar stools in their kitchen and resting her chin in her hands as she watched her mother work. "Where's dad?"
"He went to help the neighbours move in."
Charlotte perked up immediately, "Neighbours?"
"Yeah, the Linden's, I believe." Her mother turned, pan in hand and a smile on her face. "If I recall, they have a daughter that's about your age. Why don't you go say hello after breakfast?"
Charlotte nodded happily. This was exactly what she needed. New people, new adventures. Maybe the summer wouldn't be a complete waste after all.
. . . . . . . .
Charlotte knocked softly on the wooden door of the old house at the end of the street. Not quite neighbours, she thought, but they would do just fine. The door was opened by a girl with blonde hair and peculiar violet eyes. Charlotte found herself staring at the strange eye color, her hand still raised to knock again, until the girl coughed.
"Oh, um, hello!" Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck and looked away from the girl's eyes. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck so she thrust her hand towards the girl. "I'm Charlotte. I live just down the street."
"Elizabeth." The girl replied coldly, not taking the offered hand. When Charlotte looked back up at her, her eyes were a dull blue. It was official, she was going insane. This town was driving her round the bend. "Would you like to come inside? I believe your father is here."
"Um, yeah. Yeah he is." Charlotte stepped into the home, trying not to appear too shocked by the interior. This house was one of the only houses on the street that wasn't destroyed in a fire just over ten years ago, and therefore was one of the only houses with a different floor plan.
It looked ancient, really. The walls were wooden (which would explain how easily the fire took the other houses) and everything looked like it belonged in the 1800's. There was a large staircase to the left that led to a second floor, and above them was an ancient chandelier.
"Shall I give you the tour?" Elizabeth asked, hands folded in front of her and a small grin on her face.
"Um, sure." Charlotte kept quiet as she was led through the many rooms of the house. First she was taken to the kitchen, which still had an ancient looking stove in it and only a few modern appliances. Then she was led into the main room, which had a long dining table that should probably seat a lot more than two, and a living space with royal red leather couches. The walls were adorned with paintings of groups of people, as well as simple portraits. The only picture in the room seemed to be one of a lady that looked a lot like Elizabeth, but ginger.
Elizabeth ended the tour there, and Charlotte chose not to ask about the rooms upstairs. She didn't want to intrude, after all. She was still a guest. "You have a really nice house."
"Thank you." Elizabeth said simply, her eyes never leaving Charlotte's.
"Erm, well it was really nice meeting you and all, but it's getting kind of late and I really should be getting my dad and going."
"Oh, don't worry. I think our dad's are just in the middle of something. Tell your mother not to worry, I'll make sure he's nice and fed before he comes home." The smirk on Elizabeth's face made Charlotte feel uncomfortable, but she chose not to question it and instead fled the room.
. . . . . .
When Charlotte woke up the next morning, the first thing she noticed was that there was no blinding sunlight. She looked up in confusion to see her skylight covered with what appeared to be… black paint.
"Mom?" Charlotte called with a hint of panic in her voice. Her mum opened her door, all smiles.
"Yes, dear?"
"Why is my skylight painted over?"
Her mother chuckled, "Oh, your father did that this morning. He said that the lovely new girl down the street told him you didn't like waking up so early during the summer."
"What time is it?"
"Almost noon!" Her mother laughed. "I don't think you've ever slept in that late!"
"Where is dad?"
"He went to help the Linden's again." She smiled, "Why don't you go, too? That new girl seemed fond of you."
"Um… okay." Charlotte swallowed the lump forming in her throat, "Sure. Yeah, I'll just go get dressed."
She ran upstairs and dressed quickly, making sure she had her phone, keys and wallet with her. She had a bad feeling about the Linden's, and she wasn't about to go completely unprepared. With a quick shouted farewell to her mother, Charlotte ran out the door and started off towards the end of the road.
She knocked loudly on the wooden door and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Elizabeth to answer. It was only a moment before it opened, and Elizabeth welcomed her inside.
"Where's my dad?" Charlotte asked impatiently.
"Oh, I think he's gone to town with my father. Gone shopping for parts, I believe." She smiled in the sickingly sweet way she usually did and Charlotte's felt a shiver run down her spine.
She glared at Elizabeth, "I want to see my father."
"I've just told you-"
"Don't try that crap on me. I know you've done something to him and I want you to tell me what." Charlotte waited for her to begin before stepping forward so she was right in Elizabeth's face, "Now."
"You don't scare me, little girl." Elizabeth growled, her eyes flashing that same violet as they were on the first day before they returned to the blue. She coughed and smiled again, "Surely you're not accusing me of doing something to your father, are you?"
"Of course not," Charlotte said through a clenched jaw. So she wanted to play the game this way, huh? Well, Charlotte as fine with that.
. . . .
Elizabeth had said that her father and Mr. Linden had gone to town, so that's where Charlotte headed. She had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that they wouldn't be there, but she continued on anyway. It was a small town, so there really weren't many places in town she had to check. In fact, there was only one hardware store, and if they had gone to town to by parts like Elizabeth said, they'd have to be there.
She walked into the old building, and the Bob—the man working at the front counter—waved brightly to her. "Hey there Charlotte! Whatcha doin' in here?"
"Actually, Bob, I'm looking for my dad. Did he come by here today?"
"Not today, sweet cheeks. That new guy came in though. Linden, was it?"
"Oh…" Charlotte paused. "Do you happen to know where he went?"
Bob shrugged, "I think he stopped by the café."
"Thanks Bob!" Charlotte called as she ran out of his shop and towards Mrs. Pickett's Coffee House. She was just approaching it when Mr. Linden himself walked out. Charlotte stopped him and she saw his eyes go wide.
"Oh, Miss Charlotte… how do you do?" He smiled weakly and avoided her eye.
"Where's my dad?"
"Well… he's at your home."
"No." Charlotte shook her head, "Your daughter told me he was with you. Getting parts."
"Oh…" She saw him gulp, "Yes… yes, he was. He… he went home."
"So if I go home right now, he'll be there?" Charlotte shouted.
The old man opened his mouth to speak, but sighed and looked away, "No. No he won't be. Charlotte, we need to talk."
"I'm listening." She said coldly, "Now start speaking."
Mr. Linden looked around nervously, but upon seeing the empty street he spoke. "Your father is gone, Miss Charlotte. You have to understand that my daughter… well, she's… She was a very sweet girl at one point, Miss Charlotte. You have to understand that everything she does is not of her own choice."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Charlotte yelled, "And what do you mean my dad's gone! What have you done to him?"
"Miss Charlotte, I have to ask that you please stop screaming. If someone comes outside I can't tell you what you have to know."
Charlotte wanted to scream some more, but she wanted to know what had happened more so she shut her mouth and waited. Eventually the old man started to speak again. "As I said, nothing my poor, sweet daughter does is of her own choice anymore. She's been taken from me, too, you see. I'm terribly sorry for your loss and I truly wish I could explain to you the full extent of what happened but I can't. If I did, Miss Charlotte, I would die, too.
"What I can tell you is that my daughter is going to come for you. It will be sometime in the night, and you will be unable to scream or call for help. She is going to offer you a book—a book with the answers, she'll say." He took a step forward, "Do not take the book, Miss Charlotte. No matter how tempting it may be, do not take the book."
. . . .
Charlotte had run home, away from Mr. Linden, as fast as she could. He was a crazy old man who didn't know what he was talking about. Her father wasn't dead. There was no way he was dead; he had just painted her sky light! He just couldn't be dead.
Even so, she couldn't take her mind off the thought of Elizabeth and her violet eyes. She couldn't stop the feeling of doubt growing inside her, and as much as she tried, she couldn't stop the fear from consuming her. When she went to bed that night she had been terrified to turn the light off, and when she shut her eyes she had expected to be awoken with Elizabeth holding a bloodied knife and laughing. It was ridiculous, yes, but it stopped Charlotte from slipping into a sleep that lasted more than ten minutes.
She had just checked her clock for what had to be the hundredth time that night when she heard a noise coming from her doorway. When she turned to look, she found nothing. Charlotte's breath quickened as her heart pounded against her ribcage. She pulled the blankets closer to her, almost feeling as if they could protect her against whatever had come to get her.
When Elizabeth walked up to her bed, though, Charlotte felt calm. She didn't try to scream, she didn't try to call for her mother. She simply sat up and looked into the girl's incredible violet eyes.
"Hello, Charlotte dear." She said. Her voice was soothing, but laced with venom, and the smile on her face was more of a smirk. "How are you sleeping?"
"I… not well." Charlotte admitted. "I don't have the stars to look at anymore."
"Yes, well, that light was terribly inconvenient; always waking you up so early. I had to fix it."
"Why are you here?"
"Oh, I'm sure you already know." Elizabeth stepped forward and touched one cold hand to her cheek, "I know that my dear old father had a little chit chat with you today, my dear."
Charlotte gasped. "Mr. Linden…"
"Yes… he really is a bother. In fact, I would much rather him gone. But, he is quite essential to my plans." She smirked again, "As are you, my little flower."
"What plans?"
"They're all right here," Elizabeth pulled a large book from her jacket, "Everything you ever want to know is right here in this book. Would you like to take a look?"
Charlotte shook her head quickly. She tried not to stare at it, afraid it would suck her in or something. Instead, she looked at Elizabeth. "It's okay. Why don't you just… tell me?"
Elizabeth moved closer again, and Charlotte found herself being drawn to the girl's eyes. They made eye contact, and Elizabeth whispered coldly, "Take a look in the book, Charlotte. "
For some reason, Charlotte found herself reaching for it. She tried to tell herself to stop, but she felt if she should; if she had to. Maybe it would explain what happened to her father. If she wanted to get rid of this girl, she'd need cold hard proof, right? Charlotte took the book from Elizabeth and opened it. The pages glowed a bright yellow for a moment, and then Charlotte felt herself stop breathing.
. . . . .
Elizabeth looked down at the girl sleeping on the bed. Her plan had gone perfectly. The old man had played his part well, trying to convince her of the book's horrors so she'd look into Elizabeth's eyes instead. Her father had fallen for the same trick. He, however, wasn't special like Charlotte. He had to die. Charlotte… Charlotte would be there to rule with her.
Elizabeth reached down and touched the girl's cheek. Charlotte stirred a bit, and opened her eyes. "Shh, it's okay my sweet girl. Go back to sleep."
Charlotte smiled and reached up to take Elizabeth's hand, their violet eyes meeting before Charlotte's fell closed.

Description
He had warned her about the book the day she came in. He told her not to touch the thing, to just leave his shop and never return. She didn't listen to him, but when do they ever listen to him? He tells them to stay off his lawn, they do it any way. He tells them not to go to the old mansion down the road, they do it anyway. He tells them to go away… they persistently stick around. He should've known telling her it was dangerous would just spur her want to take the book, but what were his other options? It seemed, to him, as if her fate was an inevitable point in time. But he had warned her, he'd tried. It wasn't his fault that she didn't realize he was right until it was too late.

Charlotte was just the same as any other girl that grew up in a small town. She was polite, well-behaved and incredibly smart. But underneath it all was a burning desire for something, anything interesting to happen. Charlotte was getting tired of living in a town with the exact same people she'd known since birth, doing the exact same things she'd been doing for years. She just wanted to get out, but with two years left in high school she knew she wasn't going anywhere.
Charlotte was forced awake early on Saturday morning, as usual, by the bright rays of sunlight streaming through the skylight above her bed. She groaned loudly and turned over, pulling her pillow over her head just as she did every day. You'd think maybe she'd get something to cover the sun roof, but no. No matter how many times she declared that she was going to cover it up, it never ended up happening. Instead she'd stay in bed for a couple more minutes, trying to drift back into sleep. Eventually, she would give up and drag herself out of bed and downstairs where her mother and father would be making breakfast.
This morning was slightly different, though. Her mother was cooking pancakes alone in the kitchen, no sign of her father anywhere. "Oh, good morning sweetheart. How was your sleep?"
"I need to put something over the sunroof," Charlotte groaned, plopping herself onto one of the bar stools in their kitchen and resting her chin in her hands as she watched her mother work. "Where's dad?"
"He went to help the neighbours move in."
Charlotte perked up immediately, "Neighbours?"
"Yeah, the Linden's, I believe." Her mother turned, pan in hand and a smile on her face. "If I recall, they have a daughter that's about your age. Why don't you go say hello after breakfast?"
Charlotte nodded happily. This was exactly what she needed. New people, new adventures. Maybe the summer wouldn't be a complete waste after all.
. . . . . . . .
Charlotte knocked softly on the wooden door of the old house at the end of the street. Not quite neighbours, she thought, but they would do just fine. The door was opened by a girl with blonde hair and peculiar violet eyes. Charlotte found herself staring at the strange eye color, her hand still raised to knock again, until the girl coughed.
"Oh, um, hello!" Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck and looked away from the girl's eyes. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck so she thrust her hand towards the girl. "I'm Charlotte. I live just down the street."
"Elizabeth." The girl replied coldly, not taking the offered hand. When Charlotte looked back up at her, her eyes were a dull blue. It was official, she was going insane. This town was driving her round the bend. "Would you like to come inside? I believe your father is here."
"Um, yeah. Yeah he is." Charlotte stepped into the home, trying not to appear too shocked by the interior. This house was one of the only houses on the street that wasn't destroyed in a fire just over ten years ago, and therefore was one of the only houses with a different floor plan.
It looked ancient, really. The walls were wooden (which would explain how easily the fire took the other houses) and everything looked like it belonged in the 1800's. There was a large staircase to the left that led to a second floor, and above them was an ancient chandelier.
"Shall I give you the tour?" Elizabeth asked, hands folded in front of her and a small grin on her face.
"Um, sure." Charlotte kept quiet as she was led through the many rooms of the house. First she was taken to the kitchen, which still had an ancient looking stove in it and only a few modern appliances. Then she was led into the main room, which had a long dining table that should probably seat a lot more than two, and a living space with royal red leather couches. The walls were adorned with paintings of groups of people, as well as simple portraits. The only picture in the room seemed to be one of a lady that looked a lot like Elizabeth, but ginger.
Elizabeth ended the tour there, and Charlotte chose not to ask about the rooms upstairs. She didn't want to intrude, after all. She was still a guest. "You have a really nice house."
"Thank you." Elizabeth said simply, her eyes never leaving Charlotte's.
"Erm, well it was really nice meeting you and all, but it's getting kind of late and I really should be getting my dad and going."
"Oh, don't worry. I think our dad's are just in the middle of something. Tell your mother not to worry, I'll make sure he's nice and fed before he comes home." The smirk on Elizabeth's face made Charlotte feel uncomfortable, but she chose not to question it and instead fled the room.
. . . . . .
When Charlotte woke up the next morning, the first thing she noticed was that there was no blinding sunlight. She looked up in confusion to see her skylight covered with what appeared to be… black paint.
"Mom?" Charlotte called with a hint of panic in her voice. Her mum opened her door, all smiles.
"Yes, dear?"
"Why is my skylight painted over?"
Her mother chuckled, "Oh, your father did that this morning. He said that the lovely new girl down the street told him you didn't like waking up so early during the summer."
"What time is it?"
"Almost noon!" Her mother laughed. "I don't think you've ever slept in that late!"
"Where is dad?"
"He went to help the Linden's again." She smiled, "Why don't you go, too? That new girl seemed fond of you."
"Um… okay." Charlotte swallowed the lump forming in her throat, "Sure. Yeah, I'll just go get dressed."
She ran upstairs and dressed quickly, making sure she had her phone, keys and wallet with her. She had a bad feeling about the Linden's, and she wasn't about to go completely unprepared. With a quick shouted farewell to her mother, Charlotte ran out the door and started off towards the end of the road.
She knocked loudly on the wooden door and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Elizabeth to answer. It was only a moment before it opened, and Elizabeth welcomed her inside.
"Where's my dad?" Charlotte asked impatiently.
"Oh, I think he's gone to town with my father. Gone shopping for parts, I believe." She smiled in the sickingly sweet way she usually did and Charlotte's felt a shiver run down her spine.
She glared at Elizabeth, "I want to see my father."
"I've just told you-"
"Don't try that crap on me. I know you've done something to him and I want you to tell me what." Charlotte waited for her to begin before stepping forward so she was right in Elizabeth's face, "Now."
"You don't scare me, little girl." Elizabeth growled, her eyes flashing that same violet as they were on the first day before they returned to the blue. She coughed and smiled again, "Surely you're not accusing me of doing something to your father, are you?"
"Of course not," Charlotte said through a clenched jaw. So she wanted to play the game this way, huh? Well, Charlotte as fine with that.
. . . .
Elizabeth had said that her father and Mr. Linden had gone to town, so that's where Charlotte headed. She had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that they wouldn't be there, but she continued on anyway. It was a small town, so there really weren't many places in town she had to check. In fact, there was only one hardware store, and if they had gone to town to by parts like Elizabeth said, they'd have to be there.
She walked into the old building, and the Bob—the man working at the front counter—waved brightly to her. "Hey there Charlotte! Whatcha doin' in here?"
"Actually, Bob, I'm looking for my dad. Did he come by here today?"
"Not today, sweet cheeks. That new guy came in though. Linden, was it?"
"Oh…" Charlotte paused. "Do you happen to know where he went?"
Bob shrugged, "I think he stopped by the café."
"Thanks Bob!" Charlotte called as she ran out of his shop and towards Mrs. Pickett's Coffee House. She was just approaching it when Mr. Linden himself walked out. Charlotte stopped him and she saw his eyes go wide.
"Oh, Miss Charlotte… how do you do?" He smiled weakly and avoided her eye.
"Where's my dad?"
"Well… he's at your home."
"No." Charlotte shook her head, "Your daughter told me he was with you. Getting parts."
"Oh…" She saw him gulp, "Yes… yes, he was. He… he went home."
"So if I go home right now, he'll be there?" Charlotte shouted.
The old man opened his mouth to speak, but sighed and looked away, "No. No he won't be. Charlotte, we need to talk."
"I'm listening." She said coldly, "Now start speaking."
Mr. Linden looked around nervously, but upon seeing the empty street he spoke. "Your father is gone, Miss Charlotte. You have to understand that my daughter… well, she's… She was a very sweet girl at one point, Miss Charlotte. You have to understand that everything she does is not of her own choice."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Charlotte yelled, "And what do you mean my dad's gone! What have you done to him?"
"Miss Charlotte, I have to ask that you please stop screaming. If someone comes outside I can't tell you what you have to know."
Charlotte wanted to scream some more, but she wanted to know what had happened more so she shut her mouth and waited. Eventually the old man started to speak again. "As I said, nothing my poor, sweet daughter does is of her own choice anymore. She's been taken from me, too, you see. I'm terribly sorry for your loss and I truly wish I could explain to you the full extent of what happened but I can't. If I did, Miss Charlotte, I would die, too.
"What I can tell you is that my daughter is going to come for you. It will be sometime in the night, and you will be unable to scream or call for help. She is going to offer you a book—a book with the answers, she'll say." He took a step forward, "Do not take the book, Miss Charlotte. No matter how tempting it may be, do not take the book."
. . . .
Charlotte had run home, away from Mr. Linden, as fast as she could. He was a crazy old man who didn't know what he was talking about. Her father wasn't dead. There was no way he was dead; he had just painted her sky light! He just couldn't be dead.
Even so, she couldn't take her mind off the thought of Elizabeth and her violet eyes. She couldn't stop the feeling of doubt growing inside her, and as much as she tried, she couldn't stop the fear from consuming her. When she went to bed that night she had been terrified to turn the light off, and when she shut her eyes she had expected to be awoken with Elizabeth holding a bloodied knife and laughing. It was ridiculous, yes, but it stopped Charlotte from slipping into a sleep that lasted more than ten minutes.
She had just checked her clock for what had to be the hundredth time that night when she heard a noise coming from her doorway. When she turned to look, she found nothing. Charlotte's breath quickened as her heart pounded against her ribcage. She pulled the blankets closer to her, almost feeling as if they could protect her against whatever had come to get her.
When Elizabeth walked up to her bed, though, Charlotte felt calm. She didn't try to scream, she didn't try to call for her mother. She simply sat up and looked into the girl's incredible violet eyes.
"Hello, Charlotte dear." She said. Her voice was soothing, but laced with venom, and the smile on her face was more of a smirk. "How are you sleeping?"
"I… not well." Charlotte admitted. "I don't have the stars to look at anymore."
"Yes, well, that light was terribly inconvenient; always waking you up so early. I had to fix it."
"Why are you here?"
"Oh, I'm sure you already know." Elizabeth stepped forward and touched one cold hand to her cheek, "I know that my dear old father had a little chit chat with you today, my dear."
Charlotte gasped. "Mr. Linden…"
"Yes… he really is a bother. In fact, I would much rather him gone. But, he is quite essential to my plans." She smirked again, "As are you, my little flower."
"What plans?"
"They're all right here," Elizabeth pulled a large book from her jacket, "Everything you ever want to know is right here in this book. Would you like to take a look?"
Charlotte shook her head quickly. She tried not to stare at it, afraid it would suck her in or something. Instead, she looked at Elizabeth. "It's okay. Why don't you just… tell me?"
Elizabeth moved closer again, and Charlotte found herself being drawn to the girl's eyes. They made eye contact, and Elizabeth whispered coldly, "Take a look in the book, Charlotte. "
For some reason, Charlotte found herself reaching for it. She tried to tell herself to stop, but she felt if she should; if she had to. Maybe it would explain what happened to her father. If she wanted to get rid of this girl, she'd need cold hard proof, right? Charlotte took the book from Elizabeth and opened it. The pages glowed a bright yellow for a moment, and then Charlotte felt herself stop breathing.
. . . . .
Elizabeth looked down at the girl sleeping on the bed. Her plan had gone perfectly. The old man had played his part well, trying to convince her of the book's horrors so she'd look into Elizabeth's eyes instead. Her father had fallen for the same trick. He, however, wasn't special like Charlotte. He had to die. Charlotte… Charlotte would be there to rule with her.
Elizabeth reached down and touched the girl's cheek. Charlotte stirred a bit, and opened her eyes. "Shh, it's okay my sweet girl. Go back to sleep."
Charlotte smiled and reached up to take Elizabeth's hand, their violet eyes meeting before Charlotte's fell closed.