{"id":127238,"date":"2023-05-11T13:45:33","date_gmt":"2023-05-11T13:45:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/?p=127238"},"modified":"2023-05-11T13:51:46","modified_gmt":"2023-05-11T13:51:46","slug":"anna","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/fiction\/anna\/","title":{"rendered":"Anna"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Anna<\/h2>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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by Jay Walker<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Laura is exhausted. She sits with her mum having coffee after a harrowing night of haunting. Laura’s haunting continues at breakfast and throughout the day. The haunting intensifies at her local pub, where she has to confront her monster, a monster that lives deep within her. A monster that is a depiction of her eating disorder Anorexia…<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Making it through the night leaves me feeling both disappointed and relieved. My legs ache, hair is dank with stale sweat and my head is throbbing like a bitch. Closing my eyes does nothing to ease the pressure behind my eyes; maybe I could scoop them out with a spoon? Hmmmm. That would solve more than one of my issues.<\/b><\/p>

My thoughts are blurry, distorted by an early morning fog. Asking myself whether I had managed to sleep at all was becoming a familiar question. With my head in my hands, I sit up at the second attempt, stomach yelling at me; well it\u2019s more of a growl really. Reaching out and grabbing the door is the only thing keeping me upright as I stand. Dizziness leaves me feeling detached from my body; the sensation is welcome. Helps me forget how fucking hideous I look, as for my brain\u2026well that\u2019s well and truly broken, like a shattered mirror that can never be repaired. Hardly surprising really, given the last two years.<\/p>

Negotiating the staircase leaves me gasping for air. Heart pounds like a train, beads of sweat form on my top lip and my lungs heave; anyone would think I\u2019ve just crossed the finish line of the London Marathon. Damn\u2026I\u2019m as unfit as a fattened pig ready for slaughter. Mum is at the table, sipping coffee as I enter the kitchen. She hasn\u2019t put out her cigarette properly, she never does. Annoying. The crumpled butt emits a floating smoke trail reminding me of the tentacles belonging to a Box Jellyfish. She has her garish pink robe on. Eyes lock on me, looking me up and down. She frowns, judges, I know the look, I know what she sees.<\/p>

\u2018Breakfast?\u2019 she says then lights another cigarette.<\/span><\/p>

\u2018No, just coffee,\u2019 I say, trying to sound awake and with it. She exhales smoke with a sigh, she appears disappointed with my answer.<\/p>

\u2018I\u2019m going away with Peter tonight, he\u2019s booked some hotel, probably a shit hole,\u2019 Mum is ever the optimist. She finds it hard being anything than a moany old cow. She is funny with it to be fair.<\/p>

\u2018What you saying? Peter\u2019s a cheapskate?\u2019<\/p>

\u2018You know he is. Remember that bracelet?\u2019 She says, smiling as she taps ash in her coffee cup. Nice.<\/p>

\u2018The one that turned your wrist green for like a month? How could I forget,\u2019 I squeeze out a fake laugh as I\u2019m ambushed by visions of last night\u2019s haunting.
\u2018Best go pack a few things I guess.\u2019 Mum uses the table\u2019s surface to push herself to her feet then drops her cigarette in the dregs of her coffee; classy bird my mum.<\/p>

The smell of coffee fills my nostrils as I hover my head over my mug, inhaling the steam. The chair hurts my bones as I sit. My heavy eyes close; it\u2019s involuntary; like roller shutters shutting automatically. Then BANG. The chair tips back, skeleton nearly jumping clean from my skin. A hand is pressed up against the window above the sink. It\u2019s her. Long spindly fingers are unmistakable. Her index finger wags, left then right. It means don\u2019t you dare, don\u2019t even fucking think about it. The gesture is one I\u2019ve seen many times. There\u2019s a small puddle of coffee on the table. I leave it and return to my room as if it\u2019s some sort of safe haven, like a church; no evil allowed. But that is like, so untrue, nowhere is safe anymore.<\/p>

There\u2019s a tap on the window. The sound brings me out in a cold sweat; hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. It\u2019s her. I can see her long tapered fingernail tapping on the glass without even looking. SCREEEEEEEECH. Pillows become improvised ear defenders but they don\u2019t mask the sound. It\u2019s piercing, sickening, like it is emanating from within me. She\u2019s dragging her claws down the pane.<\/p>

A knock on the door leaves me wrapping my arms around my torso\u2026 as if they are going to protect me! The door handle moves, perspiration runs down my back.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Jules is here, Laura,\u2019 Mum says as she opens the door. Jules is my oldest friend. We went through school together and would be at college together too if I hadn\u2019t dropped out last year.<\/p>

\u2018Hiya, gorgeous.\u2019 Jules struts into the room, looking like a model without even trying. She\u2019s dressed in tight denim shorts and a teal crop top. The outfit shows off her stunning hourglass figure, tanned athletic legs and flat navel. She doesn\u2019t even work out, lucky bitch. Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. Whether she is suspicious or concerned I can\u2019t decide.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018We\u2019re going out tonight, Tom\u2019s birthday. We\u2019re all meeting down the Dog and Duck at eight.\u2019\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018I dunno. Not sure if I can.\u2019 The thought of the thing outside distracts me from offering up a plausible excuse.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018You ok, Laura? You\u2019re shaking.\u2019 She encapsulates me in her arms and places her head on my chest. The affection and concern eases my terror; well a little, but I\u2019ll take that.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018You\u2019re heart is going like the clappers girl. You ok?\u2019<\/p>

\u2018Yeah, I\u2019m fine.\u2019 Lying has become much easier lately. \u2018How was your trip?\u2019\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Oh my God. It was so awesome. Australia is like the best country ever and the boys, well they\u2019re hot.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0Jules fans her face to emphasise just how hot. Jules spent her summer in Australia. Alright for some.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018So, anyway, tonight\u2026what you gonna wear?\u2019\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018I haven\u2019t got anything, nothing that looks good anyway,\u2019 I mutter dejectedly, looking at the floor.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Lies. You\u2019re not getting out of it that easy girl.\u2019 Jules springs to her feet and heads for the wardrobe. She throws the doors open and runs her eyes over the racks of clothes. I on the other hand freeze. I can\u2019t swallow, but I need to or my heart is going to be ejected from my mouth. She\u2019s there. In the mirror on the inside of the door. Jules can\u2019t see her, she can\u2019t do otherwise how would she be standing so close to such a grotesque being?\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018What about these with this top?\u2019 Jules asks, holding up jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.<\/p>

But how can I answer? She\u2019s right there. A pallid, gaunt figure. Eyes surrounded by a ring of black, deep in their sockets and cheekbones high and square. Greasy unkempt hair hangs past her prominent collarbones. She looks frail, all bones and sharp angles, but she is far from frail. She\u2019s strong, malevolent. The corners of her mouth turn down and her eyes are filled with malice, narrow, glassy and bloodshot. A second later her mouth opens showing blackened teeth and bleeding gums. Just as she starts to scream Jules stands in front of her and says, \u2018Laura, you in there?\u2019 She waves her hand in front of my face. \u2018Did you hear me?\u2019\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Yeah. I\u2018ll wear Jeans and a sweater.\u2019 That\u2019s as much of a fight I can put up against Jules right now.<\/p>

\u00a0\u2018Cool. Well I have to go see Nan, but I\u2019ll be back later. We can do make-up together.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u2018Can\u2019t wait,\u2019 I give a rye chuckle. Jules kisses the top of my head and bounces out the room. So much zest for life, so much positivity, so much beauty. Fuck I\u2019m so jealous.<\/p>

Jules came back at 6.00 and took advantage of my mental and physical exhaustion. I tried in vain to resist her badgering but I know how determined and stubborn she can be so I soon realised I wouldn\u2019t be able to defy her wishes. Now we\u2019re walking down Nightingale Street on the way to the Dog and Duck. Jules looks like a million dollars, I look like a penny in a bucket of shit.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018So anyway, Ted says he\u2019s going to come over next year,\u2019 Jules says. It\u2019s the only part of the conversation I\u2019ve heard in the last few minutes. It\u2019s all a blur.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018He\u2019s gonna come over with his friend Steve. We could double date.\u2019 Jules gives me a friendly shoulder barge and giggles. Boys are the last thing on my mind right now and as for next year, the way things are I can\u2019t see me making it.<\/p>

My legs feel as though they have spontaneously combusted. The burning sensation floods my muscles as lactic acid builds up. I\u2019m so tired, I\u2019m so fucking useless.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018I didn\u2019t want to say too much in front of your mum earlier but I\u2019m guessing things haven\u2019t got any better since I\u2019ve been away.\u2019 \u2018No. No they haven\u2019t.\u2019 I fight back tears with a gulp. Jules doesn\u2019t know the half of it.<\/p>

\u2018I\u2019ll be fine, you don\u2019t need to worry about me,\u2019 I say, bullshit flowing as easy as water flows in a river. Jules starts waffling again. My mind is lethargic, distracted, it can\u2019t keep up with Jules right now.<\/p>

Although it\u2019s early evening the summer sun is still kicking out some serious heat. Its radiance plays peek-a-boo with us, hiding behind houses as we walk down Turpin Road. Jules is in a short red skirt and tight-fitted white T-shirt. I rub my arms, trying to take the chill out my bones. I\u2019m cold. I\u2019m always cold. We round one more corner onto Roxom Street and I see the Dog and Duck in the distance. There\u2019s a large crowd outside, busy. I\u2019m not sure whether that will work in my favour of not.<\/p>

Jules is all pearly whites and energy as she mingles with the crowd. I was like that once. What happened to me? The haunting that\u2019s what. It\u2019s changed me. I hide, lie, sleep too much and I\u2019ve become a terribly selfish bitchface twat. But I\u2019m weary, all the things that were good about me have been siphoned out by that Witch. Why me? Why can\u2019t she just leave me alone?<\/p>

It\u2019s so loud. So many voices all at once but somehow it\u2019s silent too. My eyes are like pinballs, shooting around in their sockets. Searching her out. She\u2019ll be here somewhere, I know it. She always is, no matter where I go she follows. I\u2019m cursed. I\u2019ve been cursed by a Witch.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Come on Laura,\u2019 Jules yells above the din of drunken chatter. She locks her arm inside mine and whisks me inside the pub. \u2018Let\u2019s get some drinks. Cider?\u2019<\/p>

\u2018I\u2019m really not in the mood to get hammered tonight, Jules.\u2019<\/p>

\u2018Rubbish. You know you\u2019ll give in once I start plying you with shots,\u2019 Jules laughs.<\/p>

The barmaid places a pint on the bar in front Jules, slopping golden liquid on the bar. I watch the bubbles disconnect from the bottom of the glass and float to the surface. Then a glass is placed next to my hand. My hand recoils like the tongue of a lizard. The barmaid\u2019s hand around the glass is not hers. Bony knuckles are unmistakable. I follow the hand to the arm, the arm to the shoulder, the shoulder to the face. My heart stops. Stomach churns with horror making me take a step back. She\u2019s there. So close. I could touch her if I dared. Frozen like a stone statue, it\u2019s impossible to unlock my eyes. She has one of those faces that looks both young and old; like she could be 18 or just as easily 38. Complexion is harsh, made worse by the shape of her skull which is clearly defined through her thin, almost transparent skin. Scalp is white showing signs of hair loss.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Come on girl, let\u2019s check out the buffet,\u2019 Jules says dragging me away from the bar\u2026 away from her.<\/p>

The buffet is a sprawling banquet of crisps, sausage rolls, quiche and the usual party favourites. Jules grabs a paper plate and starts filling up. She builds a mountain of food. How is it possible for her to eat so much and look so damn good? My envy is cut short by her. I know her name but I don\u2019t dare speak it because that might transform her from a figment of my imagination to reality. Just as I take an empty plate from the stack a hand shoots out from beneath the draping tablecloth, grasping my ankle. The plate falls from my hand as I stumble back. Her grasp is tight, I\u2019m unable to free myself from her grip. I tumble to the floor. A hundred pairs of eyes are on me\u2026including hers. Including Anna\u2019s.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Laura, you ok?\u2019 Jules says putting her overfilled plate on the table and offering her hand. \u2018You\u2019re not that drunk already are you?\u2019 She laughs pulling me to my feet.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018How embarrassing. I\u2019m going to go,\u2019 I say, head held low, trying to hide my face from a pub full of spectators.\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018Don\u2019t be daft girl, you ain\u2019t gonna be the only person falling over tonight. Come on, get some food and we can sit out the back.\u2019 Jules drags me back towards the tables of food but before I make it Anna scuttles out from under the tablecloth like a giant spider. She\u2019s hissing, drool hanging from her mouth. I can do nothing to hold in my terror, my hand goes to my mouth but a scream has already found its way into the air, into the room full of people. Turning, I flee, barging passed onlookers that are gossiping about the crazy girl, gossiping about me.<\/p>

My sprint quickly turns to an unsteady jog, then an amble, then I\u2019m falling to my knees on the pavement. No fuel left to power my limbs. I\u2019m on my back now, streetlight shining down on me like a spotlight. A spotlight to highlight just how unwell my mind is. A car goes passed. It doesn\u2019t stop, but it makes me realise I can\u2019t lay in the street all night.<\/p>

Back on my feet, I haul my arse towards home. My phone pings. I fumble it and look at the screen. It\u2019s a message from Jules. Let me know you\u2019re home. I\u2019ll be round soon. Jules is a social creature, she won\u2019t be round until late, if at all. Determination drives me on. I know what I have to do. There is a way to beat Anna. It will take time and perseverance but unless I make a stand she will not relent, her hauntings will become even more frequent than they are, until there\u2019s nothing left of me but her.<\/p>

Turning the key in the lock, I fall into the hallway. Adrenaline giving me the strength to get straight back up. I march to the kitchen. There she is, standing next to the fridge. \u2018Get out the way you fucking bitch.\u2019\u00a0<\/p>

\u2018You can\u2019t,\u2019 she snaps back, pressing her back against the fridge door. She\u2019s guarding. \u2018Move,\u2019 I yell, charging at her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

\u2018Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,\u2019 she screeches but as I reach her she disappears and I crash into the hefty metal door. I hit the floor but bounce back to my feet, swinging the fridge door wide open. Hands clamp around my neck. Anna tries to pull me away but I have to be stronger, I have to resist. With as much aggression as I can muster, I swing my arm back, elbow connecting with Anna\u2019s jaw with a crack. She screams again.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

\u2018You eat, you know what will happen you fat fuck. I will make you feel guilty for a week.\u2019\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

\u2018Get fucked. You can\u2019t tell me what to do. You are me. I\u2019m not giving you the power anymore, I\u2019m taking it back, taking my life back.\u2019 I turn back to the fridge, take a piece of cheesecake and ram it into my mouth. The flavours hit me instantly. Anna tries to make me detest it, tries to punish me, but I force her out of my mind. She comes at me again, face to face, all bone and decayed teeth. \u2018Don\u2019t come crying to me tomorrow you ungrateful cow. I\u2019ve protected you, I\u2019ve given you a purpose, a talent. I\u2019ve transformed you from a nobody to somebody.\u2019\u00a0<\/span><\/p>

\u2018No you haven\u2019t. I see it now. You isolated me, you controlled me. And do you know what? FUCK YOU ANOREXIA,\u2019 I blurt and take another bite of cheesecake.<\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Jay Walker is a creative writer and visual artist. He has previously had fiction and non-fiction published in several horror and Tattoo magazines.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\tA rural West Country village has a hill that nobody walks on. Old Mal tells us tales of the twisted old tree that once stood there.\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/article><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Laura is exhausted. She sits with her mum having coffee after a harrowing night of haunting. Laura’s haunting continues at breakfast and throughout the day. The haunting intensifies at her local pub, where she has to confront her monster, a monster that lives deep within her. A monster that is a depiction of her eating disorder Anorexia…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":127239,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"no-sidebar","site-content-layout":"page-builder","ast-site-content-layout":"","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"disabled","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2028],"tags":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/05\/nrd-FDQFZHY9iG4-unsplash-scaled.jpg?fit=2560%2C1821&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127238"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=127238"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127238\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":127251,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127238\/revisions\/127251"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/127239"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=127238"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=127238"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=127238"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}