Page 22 of Scary & Bright
“You know what, yeah,” I started, stretching my arms up over my head. “I definitely need something to eat.”
As I stretched, I realized how remarkably uncomfortable I was. Still in my gaudy Christmas sweater I was forced to wear for work and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, I was beginning to feel not only constricted, but itchy, sweaty, and just generally gross. I must have made my discomfort apparent because Starlight cleared her throat.
“You know you’ve got your own shower and dresser,” she informed me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “There are clothes and towels and anything you need.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, in disbelief that each of these rooms would just be magically equipped with the things I would need. Seemed like an awful waste to have that much stuff lying around.
“Um, yeah, I’m serious,” Starlight said, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, the clothes and things likely won’t be brand new, what with this place being stocked primarily with secondhand objects, but… they’ll at least be clean and comfortable.”
It sounded too good to be true. I immediately yanked open the first drawer in the dresser I’d shoved against the door. I’d known it felt heavy when I pushed it, but I had just assumed it was the weight of such a solid piece of furniture combined with my deep exhaustion working against me. But just like the horse said, the drawers were full.
“All right, Starlight,” I said with a smile. “I’m gonna take a shower, change clothes, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Does that sound good?”
“Sounds great!” she cheered. “Okay, so, you do your thing, and I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll try to get the kitchen set up for you. Do you remember how to get there?”
“Unless the layout of the castle changed, I think I’ve got it.” I chuckled. I knew she meant well, but I wasn’t sure it was possible to get lost when the whole place was arranged around a big circle.
“Right!” Starlight said with a happy teeter of her rockers. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit.” And then, just as quickly as she arrived, she left again, leaving me alone to get myself cleaned up.
I began to rummage through the drawers, not expecting to find anything in my size, but instead found the opposite. Everything was in my size. There were athletic leggings lined with fleece, flannel sweatpants, even khakis and slacks. There were t-shirts and tank tops and button-ups—essentially an entire wardrobe carefully folded or rolled into perfectly organized sections. As odd as it felt to have an entire dresser of clothes that I could conveniently wear in the exact room I’d chosen to stay in, I couldn’t help but feel at least a smidge thankful. Things were bad enough without me having to stay in the same gross clothes for who knew how long, so this felt like a win no matter how magically suspicious it seemed.
I selected a pair of long underwear for a base layer, fleece-lined black leggings, and a pair of thick denim jeans for my bottom half. Knowing layers were going to be the difference between life and death, I also found a tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt that I wore underneath a baggier shirt and topped with a long-sleeved crew neck sweatshirt in my favorite shade of olive green. Lastly, a fresh pair of socks that I’d wear under a second pair of thicker wool socks before heading into the bathroom and flicking on the light. Immediately, I noticed something had changed. There was a plush green towel draped over the rack and bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash behind the glass shower door. They had definitely not been there before.
At least, I thought they hadn’t been there before. I wasn’t even certain of my own memories because every single thing I’d experienced upon arriving had been tainted with the lingering worry that things were not as they seemed. Still, a shower was a shower, and I felt gross enough to justify using the magically appearing soaps to rinse the basement gunk and sweat off of me.
As I stood under the hot water, I tried to organize my thoughts. My escape plan was just as bare bones as it had been when I’d first decided it. The only door I was certain led to the outside was the one just at the top of the stairs to the basement, just off the kitchen. That was remarkably lucky, considering that was where I was headed next. I remembered the story Tuff and Starlight had told me about how she ended up in the basement—the door swung open, the wind pushing her down the stairs. And where there was a door, there was a coat closet. Or rack. In fact, after racking my brain to recall the details of the castle, I could swear I remembered seeing a heavy cloak near the door. Perfect. Well, sort of. It wasn’t as perfect as a thick down winter coat, but it was better than nothing, and at least I had selected several layers to pack on. However, I should, if things went smoothly, be able to throw on the cloak and bail out the door.
I contemplated my plan as I stepped out of the shower into the steamy bathroom. I got myself dressed and towel-dried my hair as well as I could before blow drying my hair—of course there was a blow dryer. If I were going to brave the South Pole, it probably would behoove me to dry my hair beforehand. Running away wasn’t the world’s best plan, and it had more holes than swiss cheese, but it was, as far as I could tell, my only option.
Best-case scenario, I would find a village, but I knew that was remarkably unlikely. The South Pole wasn’t exactly hospitable, but there had to be somewhere for me to go. Once I got myself outside, I would try to find somewhere with some height to get a good look around. Perhaps I’d find a research station or something along those lines. My brain repeated over and over again that since this was my only real plan, I had to be logical, but I also had to hold on tight to whatever sliver of hope I could manifest. Without it, I would be doomed before I’d even begun.
All I knew was that I was absolutely not, under any circumstances, going to allow myself to wallow in my own self-pity and anger until my end fell upon me without a fight.
Once my hair was dry, I pushed my fingers through it and admired how it fell about my shoulders. My hair had a habit of putting on its best show on the worst days. Knowing this would, with any luck, be the last time I got the chance to prepare myself for an escape, I looked around the room for anything I could maybe use as a weapon.
There wasn’t much, but I did locate a letter opener, a pair of sewing scissors, and a pack of matches. Once again, it was better than nothing but far from perfect. Knowing I was about as close to ready as I was going to be, I took a final look in the mirror, making sure my “I’m definitely not horrified for my life” face was on point before pulling on my shoes and heading down the stairs.
The castle felt eerily quiet without Starlight and Tuff’s conversation to kill the silence. Every time I passed a portrait on the wall, I felt like the painted eyes were staring me down with quiet judgment, as if they were waiting for the show to begin. Without anything else to focus on, I began to identify the sounds of my own heartbeat pulsing in my ears and the ragged, panicked breaths of a girl wandering around in the den of a vicious creature.
Suddenly, from overhead, I heard stomping. And yelling? Frustrated voices, at the very least. I tilted my head up and noticed for the first time the uppermost floor of the castle—a circular platform cutting off the top section of the massive Christmas Tree, and an iron staircase leading toward it from the top of the spiraling balcony. Without a doubt, that was where the noise was coming from, and that was undoubtedly where Krampus spent his time. I couldn’t make out the specifics of the words he was saying, but unless he was talking to himself, I had to assume there were toys up there with him.
Perhaps they were discussing my fate as a group. The thought made me sick to my stomach, and I had to work actively against the instinct that I should be darting back to my bedroom with the dresser in front of the door. It was a modest means of protection, but it was better than feeling like a deer in the headlights wandering down the balcony all by myself.
I continued to creep down the stairs, feeling every atom in my body leap with anxiety whenever the stomping sound or the angry voices from the top floor rose to a level I could hear. Goosebumps ran down my arms and spine, feeling even more like danger was lingering just over my shoulder, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
As I finally made it to the ground floor, I heard Starlight humming to herself in the kitchen alongside the clatter of pots and pans. I speed-walked toward the comforting sounds, desperate to not be alone in the castle for another second longer. Turning into the kitchen itself, I should have been surprised to see Starlight and a stuffed monkey, but that was now par for the course. The castle had fully suspended any ounce of disbelief. I assumed our new companion was the same stuffed monkey who’d tried to help Starlight pry my door open earlier. The two of them had several cabinets open, the contents spilling out, as well as an unusual array of ingredients thrown about the once-spotless kitchen counters.
“Well, hey, there!” Starlight exclaimed, both toys freezing as they understood they now had an audience.
A cookie sheet fell out of the skinny cabinet she was standing beside, and the plush monkey’s eyes went twice as wide, as if it had been caught doing something bad.
“We were just trying to get things set up for you, but then we realized we don’t know how to cook! At all!” she chirped, sounding somehow proud of the mess they had accomplished. “Hopefully, you do!”
The stuffed monkey dropped the plastic measuring spoons it was holding in one hand with a clatter and darted away, swinging from the nearest cabinet pull to the top of the fridge, then to the chandelier. Finally, he plopped back onto the floor. His panicked movements reminded me of an actual monkey in the rainforest trying to scatter away from a poacher.
“Don’t mind Bananas.” Starlight chuckled, tossing her mane back and forth. “He’s not much for strangers, or even toys he knows… or really anyone, ever.”
“Oh, I’m not offended,” I said with a smile. The pounding of my heart was still apparent, especially as I’d caught a glance of the door I intended to leave from, but the sound of Starlight’s voice was a small comfort. “But do you know what all that noise is about? It’s coming from, uh…” I pointed over my head, hoping the rocking horse would understand what I was trying to ask.