The Lucy Ferro Writing Club

Content Warning: This story contains themes of mental illness, child loss, psychological and graphic violence that some readers may find distressing.

Edith stood admiring the manor-house she had seen so many times as a child. Just as intimidating now as it was then - childhood tales of demons and dungeons and death were rife concerning this place. Perhaps it was the black clouds and patter of the dense drops of rain, lazily falling from the sky. Perhaps it was the eerie lanterns creating deep dark shadows. Or, perhaps it was because Edith was somewhat of a loner, and the thought of being around others was what was making her feel so unsettled gazing upon this place as an adult approaching her twilight years.

She was beginning to regret coming. Why did I agree to this?

She had been in the local library, probing through the books, when a young woman approached her. She looked vaguely familiar, but Edith couldn’t put her finger on it - like a dream quickly vanishing from memory upon awakening. Lucy’s charm was disarming and she insisted Edith come to her writing club - Edith reluctantly agreed.

“I’m not a writer, though.” Edith had said.

“We all have a story worth telling.” The girl, Lucy, had replied, “plus, I’ve never seen you around before, and I know how cold the locals can be around new faces. This will help you break the ice with people.”

Lucy was correct, of course, and Edith hated to admit it. She knew this town well, she had spent most of her life here - she had lost her daughter here. But, she could not continue living a life of solitude and was determined to leave her past behind her - to find whatever peace she could. To heal.

The pain of losing her young daughter had naturally ruined Edith’s life all them years ago - what was left to ruin, anyway. Her daughters body had found in a lake just a few miles down the road after weeks of police investigations, news coverage and search-parties. Never knowing the circumstances surrounding her death had tortured every waking second of Edith’s life since. I was a terrible mother, but I loved my girl. The reason I had been high or drunk all the time was to keep the voices out. The voices telling her to do unspeakable things. Most of her memories from that time were gone. Memories of her daughter now fragmented like small shards of glass that would draw blood if you messed with them too much. It was safer to keep your distance, Edith had found.

Edith jumped as she heard the mechanical sound of a bolt sliding and clicking. A moment later the looming, ornate door opened. She was greeted by Lucy Ferro, dressed in a beautiful red dress - her white teeth outlined by a deep red lipstick as she smiled a warm welcome to Edith.

Edith complimented Lucy and apologised for her own appearance, currently feeling very much under-dressed. The leaflet never said anything about a dress code.

“You are perfect as you are, Edith. We’re just so glad you came. Please, follow me. The others are dying to meet you.”

Edith admired the inside of the house as she walked along its massive corridor, huge mahogany doors leading off to many unknown rooms. A crystal chandelier glistening above was illuminating the space with a soft glow. Edith then noticed that there was an abundance of paintings. Red and black. Abstract and unnerving, yet - familiar.

Lucy lead her through one of the huge mahogany doors into a cavernous room, candles adorned the walls and wooden floor. The same unsettling paintings bordered with intricate gold frames lining the walls. A circle of ancient looking chairs with red velvet seats sat in a circle in the middle of the room. In the centre, there were people milling about in hushed conversation. All dressed in ballroom gowns and tuxedos, and holding glasses of red wine. Edith looked down at her plain beige cardigan under her coat and felt a wave of embarrassment. She felt like an intruder. Like an outsider not privy to the inner workings of this society. This is a masquerade, not a reading group. She wanted to leave.

The conversations stopped as all eyes turned to Edith. Orange glints in the candlelight - too many of them. Edith let out a shy smile and wave as Lucy introduced her. Everyone returned the platitudes at once, a small sea of warm greetings washing over her. As Lucy took Edith’s coat, people began to approach her and introduce themselves. They all seemed friendly enough, but one thing was gnawing away at Edith - none of them had family names that she recognised. Have I been away so long that everyone I once knew no longer resides here? This town had once been a place where each family could trace their lineage back for generations. New people rarely moved in and few people ever left. Or, could it be that my memory of that time is worse than I thought?

A man named Levi was in the middle of telling Edith about the reason for the over the top attire - something to do with it being an important milestone for the club and setting the scene - when Lucy returned with a glass of red wine for Edith.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, Lucy. I don’t drink.” Edith said, worried that she has offended her host.

“That’s perfectly fine, this is non-alcoholic wine. It’s not as nice as real wine, but close enough. We like to look the part but Levi here can’t be trusted not to get too drunk and ruin our session.”

“That was one time!” Levi laughs.

“It was only one time because we’ve banned alcohol since then” Lucy said to Edith, amusement in her eyes.

“Good point” Levi replies, “Edith, I sincerely hope you enjoy this special night.”

Edith offers her thanks and takes the glass from the expectant Lucy. Best not to offend her. Plus, she can’t fall off the wagon after all these years by drinking fake wine, can she? She takes the glass and wets her lips. It’s not bad, but leaves a metallic after-taste.

Lucy looks satisfied and floats gracefully to the middle of the gaudy chairs.

“Good evening everyone.” She begins, “thank you all for coming. And, thank you all for making our new guest, Edith, feel welcome.” More eyes turn to Edith and she awkwardly nods her gratitude. Unsure what else to do, she takes another sip of her wine. Lucy extends more pleasantries to others in the group and invites them all to take a seat. She places herself opposite Edith. Edith takes a slow look around the circle as everyone makes themselves comfortable. All their friendly faces now cast in harsh shadows, everyone back-lit by the candles - their light seemingly avoiding the centre of the circle.

“As a mark of this special occasion, we will be doing something different tonight. Instead of our usual reading, feedback, and brainstorming ideas; we will be going around each person with each one of you building on the story of the person before. There are no rules other than it has to start in this village.” Lucy announces, looking around at each person with smile touching her lips. The shadows now making her look slightly menacing. She must have noticed Edith’s worried look and told her she can just observe if she feels uncomfortable contributing. Edith relaxed slightly at this.

Lucy asked the lady to her left, June, to begin by setting the scene.

June began talking in a deep voice - quiet, yet powerful. “It was so late you could be forgiven for saying it was early. The dusk air crisp in the pine woods. The frost covering the forest floor like a shimmering carpet of glitter…” Her voice was musical - hypnotic even. Edith found her eyes closing as she pictured the forest being perfectly painted in lyrical form. Almost like she was there, looking at it with her own eyes. It wasn’t difficult, she’d spent a large part of her own child-hood in the forests around town. She leaned back in her chair, feeling so relaxed now. This is actually quite nice, silly of me to have felt so awkward.

June continued her narration, “nothing in the forest stirs, except for one creature. She stalks, barefoot and panting.” Edith stirs at this as her point of view flashes to whatever this creature is. It feels so real.

The narrators voice changes to a male, but Edith barely notices. She’s still panting and barefoot in the woods. “She’s wet and shivering. But, she doesn’t notice. She has more urgent matters to attend to”. Edith feels something on the edge of her consciousness, almost like recognition, faint and unknown. “She hears a branch snap ahead and immediately takes off towards it.” Edith now feels a sense of urgency, and sees the forest streaming by in her minds-eye as she hurtles towards the sound.

The narrator’s voice now replaced by the frosty forest air rushing past her stinging ears. The trees become sparse and then quickly open up to a black lake.

Edith gasps as memories come flooding back. Memories she doesn’t want. Memories that had been buried deep within. She doesn’t want to believe them - even though she knows them to be true.

She fights to open her eyes and to banish the visions. Her efforts are in vain. She is stuck, unable to move - only able to observe the scene playing out before her. The narrators voice a distant whisper floating on the cold air.

She sees her daughter standing ankle deep in the lake; crying, shivering, pleading. She is trapped. She can no longer run and the freezing water is deadly. Edith approaches slowly, a rock now in her hand. Her daughter staggers back, landing with a splash. Edith is wailing and thrashing against the walls of her own mind, desperate to escape - to forget again.

She stands over her daughter now. She hesitates before hearing a familiar voice.

“Do it! Do it now!” It’s the voice she’d began hearing after her daughter was born. The voice she’d been taking medications for, and the voice she had stopped hearing after he daughter’s body was found. A demonic, evil voice. Each word, each syllable, dripping with pure hatred.

Edith thrashed against her own mind as she watched the hand holding the rock rise, her teenage daughter begging now. Helpless.

With a violent downward swing, the rock connects with a sickening crunch and her daughter falls back, submerged in the icy black water. Edith bends down, grabs her daughter’s leg and drags her deeper, until the water is almost around Edith’s neck. The adrenaline of the moment keeping her warm against the icy water.

She walks home barefoot, in silence. In a trance like state, she gets showered, disposes of her wet nightgown and goes to bed.

*

Edith jerks awake and her eyes open to see Lucy’s face hovering over her, smiling. The candles from the chandelier above make it look like she has glowing horns. “Nice of you to rejoin us. Levi was worried I’d put too many drugs in your wine, but I had to make sure this worked.”

Edith tries to sit up, but to her terror, she realises she’s strapped to a table in the centre of the circle. She tries to look around. The occupants now wearing black robes with the hoods pulled up - faces in complete shadow.

“Apologies for the straps, but we don’t want you to cause yourself an injury.” Lucy says, in her easy going, amused tone.

“Lucy, what is this? Please, let me go!”

“I wish I could, I really do.” Replies Lucy, “however, why should we extend that courtesy to you, when you did not extend the same courtesy to your own daughter?”

“You don’t understand, I was sick. That wasn’t me. Please!” Sobs racked her frame as old wounds tore open, raw and festering. Lucy laughed. All the charm she had previously, replaced with malice. Replaced with hatred. The others laughed too. “I loved my baby girl. You must understand. It was the medications, I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Of course you didn’t know what you were doing, you silly woman!” Lucy barked, “you done what you were told.”

“The voice…”

“Exactly. Your mind was too weak, I needed a way out.” Lucy was smiling again now. Edith’s terrified face now twisting in confusion. Her eyes wide, darting about the room noticed that the red and black paintings were now violently writhing.

“I needed a new body - something younger, something less damaged. Unfortunately for you, I could not just occupy another shell. I needed someone who was between life and death. Someone who had briefly vacated their physical form, leaving it open for me.

“So, I started whispering in your ear, ever so gentle - at first. Your fear gave me power, helped me grow stronger until I could manipulate you more and more and more. You were stronger than I first anticipated, but I had nothing but time, to chip away at your resolve. With your help, I painted my babies into existence.” Edith glances at the paintings again, recognition now on her face. The paintings now starting to look like twisted, monstrous faces. She remembered painting them.

“No! I don’t believe you.” Edith sobbed.

“Did you not ever question why you stopped hearing my voice at the same time your daughter vanished? It was because I had left. I transferred to your daughters body and lay at the bottom of that lake before emerging - reborn.” Lucy put her face closer to Edith, who lay frozen with fear. Lucy pulled her hair to the side, revealing a deep scar on the side of her head. “Hello, Mother.” She laughed, again. She explained to Edith how she was able to age herself and slightly change her appearance. How Lucy’s soul still lingered somewhere within this body. And how spilling Edith’s blood would finally rid Lucy of the girl.

“No, please, stop! My daughter died. Her body was found.”

“Merely a cadaver - A replacement that no one would miss.”

“Lies.” But, Edith knew it was true. She knew it deep within her own soul. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

You already know my name. The old, demonic voice inside her head boomed. Lucy smiling knowingly. Say it!

Edith sobbed, “Lucy…”

“Lucy, what?”

“Lucy Fer…” Her voice trailed off, she didn’t need to finish the name.

“In the flesh.” Lucy said. She raised her hand, now clawed and blackened.

The last thing Edith saw, as her life ebbed away, were the demons emerging from the paintings behind Lucy’s wild eyes.