A Patchwork of Trouble

I’m choking! I can’t breathe! Someone help me!

I sit up, bewildered. What a nightmare! I had been choked by a living scarf. What’s more, I know that particular scarf. I’ve seen it somewhere. Ugh, that overly bright knitted patchwork scarf. I reach up to scratch the back of my head and start violently. What’s this around my neck? I rip it off with trembling hands and find myself staring at that same overly bright knitted patchwork scarf. Not again. Please, not again.

***

Allow me to explain. This all started a few weeks ago when I was exploring an old antique bookshop with my best friend. It was a wet, windy afternoon. We initially ducked into the shop to get out of the sudden autumn downpour. I leaned against the door frame watching the wind and rain dance with the leaves down the street. I’m not much of a reader but Leina is. She was probably born in a library and eats a book for breakfast every day. I’m not even joking – at the speed she reads she basically gobbles up her books. Anyway. Leina was obviously delighted by the little shop and started browsing immediately. After a while of being mesmerised by the wind and rain, I realised that it had been some time since I last heard Leina exclaiming over some book. I looked around. The bookseller, a tiny old woman, noticed me searching and wordlessly pointed to the back of the shop. I smiled my thanks and headed in that direction, inwardly shaking my head at her choice of clothing. She was wrapped in layers of knitted things from head to toe; bright scarves, mittens, woolly socks, sweater and a hat. I still couldn’t see Leina.

As I strolled deeper and deeper into the little bookshop, I had the odd feeling that it was bigger on the inside than on the outside. “Leina!” I called again. "Leina!" Where was that girl? She probably started reading and lost herself in the book too completely to hear me. I almost fell over her. She was on the floor, in a little heap and... asleep? Unconscious? I suddenly felt cold. “Leina!” I shook her. “Leina, wake up!” She was hardly breathing. I froze. Something was not right. I tried to lift her so that I could see her face, desperately hoping that this was some silly prank she was pulling. It was then that I noticed that horrible scarf, overly bright and knitted in some crazy patchwork of colours. Leina’s eyes were closed and the scarf was wound around her neck, way too tightly. I yanked it off and she gasped. She sat up groggily and rubbed her neck.

“I had such a funny dream,” she mumbled. “I was talking to a little old lady and she became angry. Her scarf tried to choke me.” She looked around. “Where are we?”

I pulled her to her feet, suddenly afraid. “In a bookshop. We were hiding from the rain, remember?” She stared at me blankly. I glanced around and noticed the scarf again. It looked like all the others wrapped around the bookseller. “Come on,” I told Leina. “I think we should go.” She nodded, staring at the scarf. She grabbed my hand with a shudder and we hurried off.

It took us a lot longer to find the exit than it had taken to get into the shop. I had that odd feeling again, that there was more to this shop than what we could see. We got out eventually, the bookseller conspicuously absent. It was still raining but we didn’t really care anymore and finally got home dripping. We discussed the whole thing over a cup of hot tea but we couldn’t make head or tail of it. Leina had perked up a bit but could still only remember browsing the books and then having the dream. Nothing about falling asleep or anyone coming up to her or anything else. The next morning it all felt a lot less scary and more like a strange dream. We forgot about it over the next couple of weeks really. It was just too surreal.

About a month or so later the scarf showed up again. Looking back now, I realize that we were in the same street where the whole bookshop incident happened but at the time we didn’t notice it. It was a sunny afternoon, the kind you really appreciate in winter. We were celebrating the end of the term at our favorite café. At some point I got up to go to the bathroom and on the way back I bumped into someone and almost knocked them to the ground. I apologized profusely and helped them up. It was a bent, wrinkly old lady wrapped in all kinds of bright knitted clothes. She gave me a funny little smile and a wink and tottered off. She seemed familiar somehow. It didn’t hit me until I sat down again. It was the same bookseller from that odd shop. Leina looked at me curiously. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She laughed at the expression on my face and then grew serious when I didn’t smile back. “Mia? What happened?”

I frowned. “You won’t believe it, but I think I saw that woman again. The bookseller with the scarves.” Leina shuddered, her eyes wide. Somehow the afternoon didn’t feel as warm anymore. We silently finished our coffee and headed home, mulling over the whole thing. Had we imagined it? Had someone tried to attack Leina? Who was this strange little woman? None of it really made any sense. “Do you think we should tell someone?” I asked Leina uncertainly.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we should. I mean, what if someone wants to hurt us? But then again, who would believe us anyway? I can’t really remember much and you didn’t see anything. We were the only people in that shop besides the bookseller. And we don’t know for sure that today’s woman is the same person, do we?” I nodded in agreement. We would figure it out later.

There was a parcel waiting for us when we got to our flat. “Must be an early Christmas present,” I chirped, trying to lighten the mood. “Wonder if it’s from your mom or mine?” I turned it over. Nothing to indicate who sent it. I opened it and almost immediately threw it on the floor. It was the scarf! Leina gave a little scream and backed up nervously. We looked at each other for a long moment. Then I calmly picked up the scarf, put it back in the wrapping and dumped it in the trash. “This has to be some stupid prank,” I told Leina, who was still cowering in the corner. “And I refuse to be scared by this stupid scarf. We’re going home for the holidays tomorrow and we can tell our parents about it but it is probably still just a prank and I’m over it!” She nodded but I could tell she wasn’t convinced.

***

That is what happened last week. Right now, I am sitting in my bed, wrapped in my blankets, staring at that horrible scarf in disbelief. I haven’t gotten around to telling my parents yet. Her parents think the whole thing is silly and probably an elaborate joke. I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually think we are trying to mess with them with this crazy story about a creepy bookseller and a scarf. I tend to agree with them though. Leina does love a good prank. Did she set this up? That would have to mean that she knows the bookseller somehow. It would explain the first two incidents sure, but this? This is different. Leina is definitely not in my room and I can still feel the raw ring around my neck where the scarf choked me. I keep staring at the bundle on the floor, like it might to jump up and grab me. I have to get away from it!

Moments later I’m in my parents’ room shaking my mom and nervously babbling about my dream and the scarf. “Just a dream,” my mom moans but my dad is instantly awake and stomping down the hall. I tiptoe after him. There are some ominous thumps and muffled swear words coming from my room. I peep in. My father is stomping on the scarf and tearing it up and muttering to himself. Somehow that sight is a lot more terrifying than the nightmare and the scarf and everything else that has happened so far. A lot more.

After what seems like an hour, my father turns around and looks at me with a haunted expression on his face. “I’m sorry Mia. I thought this thing had left for good. A long time ago. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face. “I think it’s time I told you everything.” Somehow, I get the feeling that my life will never be the same again. Ever.