Classic Horrors Club

I clearly remember what happened last night… up to a certain point…

I was walking by the drawing room at Collinwood when Barnabas Collins called my name. Then Donna, Carolyn’s friend, encouraged me to come in. I politely declined, but Barnabas mentioned that I was always running off. He was about to invite Donna over to the Old House and suggested we have an impromptu dinner party there tonight. Julia Hoffman, whom I had not realized was in the room, agreed that it was a good idea.

I told them I couldn’t come but might be able to some other time. Carolyn piped in that Barnabas might not be in the mood “some other time.” He agreed and said, “Let’s all go now.” I again said that I couldn’t and poorly explained that I had to go to Bangor to meet a guy who was flying away in the morning. I’d be lucky if I could catch him for even an hour tonight. Business… the kind of thing I couldn’t easily cancel. In fact, I said, I was about to leave right then.

Unexpectedly, Donna asked if I could drive her. To Bangor? She was dreading the bus trip. Carolyn once again butted in, telling her she was sure I’d be delighted to have the company. Was she playing matchmaker or trying to expose my bluff? I told her I would, but I was leaving right then. I couldn’t get out of this one; Donna said, “Well, I’m ready.” Carolyn smugly asked if it was all right with me. Yeah, why wouldn’t it be all right? That’d be just fine…

I stood outside the front door waiting for Donna when she stepped out and asked where my car was. I told her it was by the gate and that there was no way to park it down by the cottage. Mistake! She immediately asked if I lived on the estate. I was in too deep. When she asked if it was an old and interesting house, too, I replied, “Well, it’s old.” She said she’d like to see it… sometime. I was trying to think of what to say next and must have appeared distracted. She asked if something was wrong and told me I hadn’t been listening to her.

I told her I had, but I had a headache. I get them all the time, kind of like a migraine. I told her I’d been thinking I may not be able to go. She said she would drive. No. She persisted, telling me it would be over by the time we got there. I impatiently explained that these headaches of mine just last and that there’s nothing I can do but try to get through them. I said she should just take my car, leave it at the bus station, and put the keys under the seat. She asked if I would be all right. Yeah, in the morning I’ll be a new man. That was the first thing out of my mouth that wasn’t a lie.

Back at the cottage, I looked out the window and felt a shot of pain. I looked at myself in the mirror. As soon as I turned on the lights, there was a knock on the door. I banged my fist on the table in frustration. It was Donna. I asked her what she wanted. She said she brought my keys back. She wasn’t going to use my car; that was silly. I’d have to walk all the way to town tomorrow to get it and I wasn’t feeling well. Why didn’t I just shut up? I told her I felt better… that I took some medicine. She asked then why didn’t I let her in? Now I became speechless?!? She clarified, “To call a cab.” I told her I didn’t mean to be rude, but she couldn’t stay long. 

She casually entered and commented that she just didn’t understand men. Why was a guy like me living in a place like this, not that it wasn’t nice… I motioned to the phone, telling her where it was, then grimaced in pain. She asked what was wrong and I answered that she better go. She asked why. I told her to just get out. After another sharp pain, I yelled at her, “Get out!”

She wanted to do something, maybe call the doctor. She headed for the phone and I dove for it, grabbing it out of her hands. She explained that she was just going to call for my own good, then said she should have known why she was attracted to me: I’m crazy. I tried to tell her once more to get out, but my words turned into a growl. The last thing I remember is her opening her mouth wide, then screaming and running out of the cottage.

This morning, then, as the sun was shining fair over Collinwood and all seemed calm, I stumbled into my cottage and paused to look at the mess. Why didn’t I remember what happened? How much time had passed? Here I was again, coming back always knowing I would find signs that last night was like the night before. I started picking up when I noticed my bloodstained shirt. I removed it, tossed it in the bedroom and put on a different one. Then I saw it on the floor… a purse. That girl… Donna!

A knock at the door and it was Carolyn. She’d come to tell me that Donna was dead. Then there was another knock. A man in uniform introduced himself as Sheriff Patterson and said he’d like to ask me some questions. I told Carolyn to go back to Collinwood.

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