Devil With A Blue Dress On

Devil With A Blue Dress On

I jump awake, heart racing, breathing way too fast. I know the time before I dare look at the clock: 6:66am. This is the third day in a row. Something is watching me, a hawk circling overhead. I feel like a rabbit edging closer to the trap, scared even though I have no idea why. I am drenched in sweat, my dreams are haunted, I don’t want to be left alone with them.

I lie back in my bed, I must try to sleep. I am exhausted by this state I am in. As I close my eyes, I can feel my mind being pulled with invisible strings back into my nightmares. My body fights it by thumping my heart so loudly I am temporarily deafened.

I go through my relaxation techniques one by one. Breathe in, two three four, hold it, two three four, out, two three four. It isn’t working so I decide to recite the words to a song in full. Even though I have over 3000 songs on my iPod, the only one that comes to mind is ‘Devil With A Blue Dress On’. That song has been buzzing around in my head for a couple of days now. I don’t know why, I’m not usually a Springsteen fan. I silently recite the words and make a mental note to wear my Chanel when I meet Jake tonight.

I manage to get an hour or so of fitful sleep. The shrill beeps of my alarm clock bring me back to reality. The clock now says 8:00am, it seems to have returned to normal. I don't feel like breakfast this morning. I try to wash away the night’s events in the shower, then head to the vines. They have been my solace for many years. The regimentation of the sweet fruits makes me feel safe. I am at home with them, I can trust them.

Only, today is not safe. The moment I enter the twisting maze, I sense my hunter is back. The leaves are rustling, whispering a warning to me. I realise they spoke to me yesterday as well, maybe the day before. When I hear the content of their message, I begin to shiver, in spite of the beating sun. “Beware, Hollie, she is coming for you. The devil with a blue dress on. Beware!” I am menaced by grape vines, but I know they speak the truth. That song, it is everywhere, she is coming for me.

I run back to the house and call Jake. He lets it ring for an eternity before answering and I remember the argument we had last night. He called me paranoid, said I needed help. But I’m not paranoid, this is real. He must believe me now. “Jake, thank God. I need your help,” I say.

“What now, Hollie?” he replies and I can hear the irritation in his voice, a cross between anger and boredom.

“Jake, it’s true. I’m not paranoid, I’m not imagining it. She’s coming for me, I have to get away.”

“What are you talking about, Hollie? No-one is coming for you. You’re perfectly safe. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m just about to meet with Mr Walker.”

He doesn’t believe me, but I try one more line before he hangs up, “Jake, I heard it through the grapevine. Okay? You know I have an affinity with them. They never lie to me. I’m not safe here. Please, J-“

He replaces the receiver without even hearing my words. What do I do without him? I need a plan, something I can do when she arrives. It’s funny, I never thought of the devil as female. Seems I was wrong. The doorbell startles me and I swallow my fear as I open the door. My relief is palpable when I see our postman wearing not a hint of blue and very definitely male. Then it comes to me, “Please, Mr Postman, I need your help,” I say, “I am in danger. I need to get away.”

The postie stares at me, open mouthed, trying to figure out how to respond. In the end, he opts for, “Miss Connolly, I have a package for you. Can you sign here, please?”

I do as he bids, then repeat my plea. “Please, I need your help. If you could just give me a lift to town, I can catch a bus from there.” The man considers my words, probably trying to assess my sanity, then nods his head and gestures towards his van.

Still clutching my package, I climb into the getaway vehicle and Mr Postman starts to drive. I open my package as we seem to fly along the narrow country lanes. Then I scream as I see a plastic doll, with blonde hair cut like mine and dark blue eyes, mirroring mine. The doll is holding grapes and she has blood all over her neck and chest. Real blood, still wet. Attached to her ankle, in tiny, shaky writing, is a note which reads, “Look behind you.”

I look at the postman and he is chuckling, laughing at my stupidity. Slowly, I turn my head and there she is. Blue dress clashing with her amber eyes, evil etched across her contorted face. “Glad you could come, Miss Connolly. It didn’t take you long, did it?” I scream again, but only briefly. The fiery hand of the devil clasps my mouth. “Now, if you’re a good girl, this will soon be over.”

She puts her other hand on my chest and scorches a mark into my flesh. The stench of my liquid pain fills my nostrils and terrifies me. “I am a good girl, I promise. I'm good, I'm good, I'm go-”


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