The Oasis

The Oasis

When my brother and I were growing up we had a very happy childhood. Mama stayed at home with us while Papa worked at his law firm. We had two homes, one in New York City and one in England. As children Stuart and I much preferred the English cottage because it meant that we could run free on the property. The spot I enjoyed the most as a child was the woods. I could lie in the moss or leaves, look up at the sky and daydream about what my life would be like as an adult. Naturally I would be a wealthy refined woman just like Mama and marry someone just as gallant as Papa. I adored my Papa and he me. Stuart was Mama's boy and I was Papa's girl. Our lives seemed like heaven and for many years Papa indulged my every whim. This would cause great conflict between my parents, I would hear their raised voices many times in the night. "You are spoiling that child beyond ethical limits Richard." But Papa would never bow to what Mama wanted or thought proper. As a result there was, at times, much friction between my parents and ultimately between Mama and I. Stuart was just as indulged as I was but of course that was never acknowledged, he was the boy afterall and was the apple of Mama's eye. Our lives were sweet, steady, safe and predictable for many years until Papa died suddenly in 1940.

The funeral was pure anquish. Mama was so upset that a doctor had to be summoned. Stuart came home from the navy and stayed for several weeks. All of us walked around the flat in New York like caged animals. We had to stay there until Papa's will was read. Once that was done the flat would be put up for sale and we would all move to the house in England. The contents of the will was a surprise and a cause of great anger and animosity between Mama and I. A man from the firm came to the flat and we all sat around the dining room table to hear Papa's last wishes. Both Stuart and I expected that whatever was involved in the estate would go to Mama. Instead Papa left the bulk of his estate to me leaving only token amounts for her and Stuart. When I heard this I immediately protested saying that the money must go to my mother. But the man was insistent saying that this was the way my father had wanted it and I would be a shameful daughter to disobey him. And so I am now a wealthy woman as I had always day dreamed that I would be and poor Mama and Stuart were given allowances. Stuart bore this insult easily, simply shrugging his shoulders and never discussed it. But Mama, she was furious and still is.

We all got moved to the house in England and settled into a mundane existence. Stuart came home many times to visit which was a huge blessing to me because when he wasn't home Mama and I hardly spoke two words to each other. If we met in the hall or on the staircase she would sneer, raise her chin and ignore me. These were very unhappy months for me. The bright spot was Stuart's visits. We would sit in the sunroom and talk for hours, sometimes about nothing in particular or about everything. It was during one of his visits that Stuart planted a seed in my mind. I was telling him that things were no better between Mama and I and how unbearable it was when he suggested that I move out. My first reaction was to think of Mama, how could she possibly manage without me? Stuart pooh poohed this saying that mother could live quite nicely on her own and that I should think of myself. He said, "Cathy, don't be so silly. Mother is capable of coping with her own life. Besides if you are so miserable why not?" For many months I tried to forget my brother's suggestion but the seed he planted in my mind only grew stronger until it became clear that moving was going to be the right choice for me.

I began the search for the perfect house. After living in a flat in New York City I knew that was not what I wanted for myself. I wanted a small English cottage of my own to explore and grow in. There were so many cottages available and I went to see every one of them until my feet ached and I began to think that I would never find anything suitable. I was about to give up all hope when the realtor rang me and said she felt she had found the perfect place for me and could I come. When I first laid eyes on it I knew it was mine. It was a small cottage but so beautiful. The building was made of white brick. The roof covered in logs and the cottage was surrounded by a wonderous garden of buttercups and lilacs. The grass was so green that it reminded me of the fields of glover that Papa and I had seen in Ireland a few years before he died. The inside of the cottage was a bit disappointing because all the walls were white but then I grew excited because I knew that I could decorate it in any way I chose. So I bought it on the spot.

The most difficult part of moving was telling Mama. After I bought the cottage I made arrangements for movers and began the task of deciding what to take, what to buy and was quite blissful which did not go unnoticed by her. One night as we sat at the dinner table eating without saying anything as usual she spoke to me. "Well Catherine Louisa, are going to tell me what your up to or do you want me to guess?" The sound of her voice so shocked me that I dropped my fork! I knew she was angry, no one called me Catherine Lousia except her. Papa had always called me Catherine and Stuart always called me Cathy, both of which I loved hearing. But Catherine Lousia sent chills down my spine. I looked up from my plate and saw Mama's piercing blue eyes glaring at me and knew that the truth must be told. Her reaction was what I expected, she threw dishes and screamed at me for hours all the while saying that I was abandoning her. When her outburst did not garner the outcome she wanted she stormed out of the dining room. That was the last time I saw or spoke to her before the move.

Moving was hard work and it took many days to get everything settled in the cottage the way I wanted it. But the freedom I felt at being out of my parent's home was intoxicating and left me breathless with excitement and joy. Then I started decorating. Wallpaper was my choice but friends advised me to paint the walls with primar first, which I did. The cottage had a small kitchen, a living area, a bathroom and two bedrooms. I chose the larger of the two bedrooms even though this room had no closet. I questioned the realtor about the lact of closet and was told that the former owner had never bothered to have one installed when the cottage was built. The basement had a small furnace, a sink with taps and a cold storage room. The cold storage room had a few jars of pickles, jams and tomatoes which I assumed were left behind by the previous owner. These I just threw out and decided I would use this room to store other items.

When the second coat of primar was dry I started to put the wallpaper I had chosen for my bedroom. It was a two tone yellow, the darker yellow on the bottom looked almost like sand and the yellow got brighter towards the ceiling. I had chose this particular wallpaper because it reminded me of a trip Papa and I had taken to Eygpt. I had loved the sand, the desert sun and the opportunity to explore with Papa. Those days were such happy times, for all of us and I missed them dearly. On the the ceiling I put black paint with white flecks so that when I turned the light off at night it looked like I was looking at a sky full of tiny stars. I chose to decorate the remaining rooms in a basic pale blue. It was not long before my cottage was exactly what I had envisioned it would be in my mind the day I bought it and I couldn't have been happier. Stuart came to visit about a month later and he was very happy for me. We walked the grounds together and he said even though I did not have as much land as the cottage we had explored together as children he loved it and believed that I would have a long happy life here. I agreed with him. How nieve I was!

Many months later I noticed something odd one morning in my bedroom. One particular section of the wallpaper had been completely removed and laid in a heap on the floor. I thought, how very strange. My neighbour, Mr. Winchester, had once said that if I ever needed anything he would be happy to help. I rang him, explained what the problem was and he came right over. He too thought it strange that the wallpaper had come off but suggested that perhaps I had not put enough paste on and it had fallen off when the paste had dried. This explanation seemed plausible to me so I bought more of the wallpaper and made sure that I put amble amounts of paste on the new strips before I put them on the wall. For a few days afterwards I would inspect that section repeatedly and the new paper remained in place. The weeks passed and Summer arrived. I had learned from my neighbours that I had some raspberry bushes on my property and one day set out to locate them. When I returned to change for dinner I was astonished to see a heap of wallpaper on the floor in my bedroom again. It had come off the exact same spot of the wall as before.

I got some wallpaper cut into strips. When I entered the bedroom with the wallpaper and a bucket of paste something about the wall was different. The surface was not flat. Instead there was a definate outline of a door. I ran my fingers along the lines thinking that they were caused by air bubbles in the primar or from the paste but found the outline was quite deep and pronounced. I sat on my bed and stared at the wall. What could this be? The realtor had said that the previous owner had not had a closet in this bedroom yet this was clearly an outline of a door. I shook my head and thought no this is nonsense, you are seeing things or your mind is playing tricks on you. So I dismissed it and got dressed to go out for dinner with some friends. It was a pleasant evening. When I got home I was quite tired. I went straight to bed.

In my dream someone called my name in barely a whisper. "Catherine". I heard the voice, a low masculine voice, calling my name again and again. My alarm clock woke me and I sat up in bed confused at first as to where I was. Had someone been calling my name or was I just dreaming I wondered. When I got up to get dressed I stared with shock at the wall. The outline was not an outline anylonger, now there was a door and it was slightly ajar. With trepidation I slowly approached the door. When I did it creaked and slowly opened wider giving me quite a fright. My skin was clammy and I was shivering with fear but my curiousity got the better of me and I opened the door wider. it was very dark but I stepped into a small closet. Once inside I quickly discovered that this was no ordinary closet. Instead of hangers there was another door.

Without any thought to what might lie ahead I opened the second door. When I did so I found myself transported to another world before my eyes. There was sand as far as the eye could see. Beautiful rich colors of sand, yellows, reds and oranges from the bright sun in the sky. There were palm trees and camals on top of sand dunes in the horizon with a gentle breeze carrassing my face. I know not how long I stood taking in this new scene but I do know that my hand was grasping the doorknob the entire time. The breeze felt warm and inviting, so much so that I raised my face to the sun and closed my eyes. Then the warmth was gone. I opened my eyes and I was back in my bedroom and the door was closed.

After that I became obsessed. Every night I heard the voice calling my name and I would search for the door but never found it. During the day I would lay in bed and sob. I stopped going outdoors and stopped visiting people. Weeks passed and finally Stuart came to see me. My neighbours had called him so he came to check on me. When I crawled out of bed and answered the door he was quite alarmed. "My God Cathy, what have you done to yourself?" I fainted straight away and Stuart had me rushed to the hospital. The doctors told him that I had not eaten or drank anything for many, many days and that if he had not arrived I would likely have died. So I was left in hospital for three weeks. The first week was just a haze to my memory but one thing did stand out, Mama came to see me. She gasped when she saw me and was led out crying. When I was feeling more myself I asked Stuart if Mama had indeed been there or if that had just been a dream. He told me that she had been there. Stuart started asking me a lot of questions then, what happened, had I been ill? If so, why hadn't I called for help or gone to see a doctor? I could provide no answers.

A doctor came to see me and said that he was prepared to release me but he warned me not to be so foolish again. I muttered that I was sorry and that he was right and that this would not happen again. He seemed satisfied with my reply and let me go home. Stuart came and drove me to my little cottage, my little piece of heaven. It took me several days to convince him that I was quite alright and that he didn't need to worry about me anymore. The day before he left he suggested that I go see Mama, that she really was concerned for me. But I felt that this was not true. I felt that she had put on a show at the hospital for the doctor and Stuart's benefit, not mine. But I said nothing of this to him. Finally he was gone and I was alone.

I went back to bed and stayed there. For many nights I heard the voice calling my name again in a low sultry whisper "Catherine, Catherine". Each time I heard it I would sit up, turn on the light and look for the door but it was not there. I fell into fits of despair and wept for hours and hours. This went on for about a week and then it happened. The door appeared to me again. I cried but this time with tears of pure joy, leapt out of bed and stepped into the closet. This time when I opened the second door the scene that met my eyes had changed. The sand, palm trees, sand dunes and camals were all still there but now there was also a huge garden with a wonderful pool of water in the middle. It was a wonderous desert oasis. Even though I was still grasping the doorknob I found that I could walk slowly towards the pool. The sun's rays were flickering on the surface and it looked refreshing. My feet were bare so I put one foot into the water. It was warm not cool. I felt the familiar breeze and closed my eyes. I quickly opened them but it was too late. I was back in my bedroom and the door was gone.

My reason for living became finding that door. Every night I crept along the wall of my bedroom searching with my eyes and fingers trying to find the door but it never happened. Finally I retreated to my bed and stayed there as before. I did not eat, I did not drink, I did not sleep and I refused to see anyone. I began to feel that I was losing my mind for I would hear that seductive voice calling to me inside my head now. Hearing my name said so sweetly over and over became like a drug to me. It fed me, sustained me. My neighbours came, I ignored them. The police came,I ignored them. Even Stuart came back and I ignored him as well. I would weep day after day. Stuart became so desperate and concerned for me that he finally went to Mama. About a week after Stuart had been there I heard her voice reaching through the fog of my mind. I heard banging and knew that she was at my door. I was so weak that standing was an enormous effort for me but I managed to stand and answer the door.

When I opened the door Mama screamed, grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me all the while saying "What are you doing? What is wrong with you?" I could only manage a few mumbled words before collapsing into her arms. She took me back to the hospital and ordered the doctor to keep me there this time until he found out what was wrong with her baby. They ran hundreds of tests on me, so much so I started to feel like a human pin cushion. Once again weeks passed and I slowly regained my strentgth and health this time with Mama and Stuart hovering over me like mother hens. Even though I was eating, drinking and feeling much better all I could think about was the closet and my wonderous oasis. I wanted more but I also knew that getting back to my cottage this time was going to take more effort because of Mama.

We quarreled many days about where I should go when I was released. For the first time in many, many years I could tell that Mama did love me and was truly worried for me. This unexpectedly touched my heart and under normal circumstances probably would have made me do what she wanted. But I could not forget the voice, I could not forget the oasis, the breeze, the sand and the pool of water. It was as if something or someone was drawing me back. So in the end Mama had no choice but to let me do what I wanted, which was to return to my beloved cottage. She came with me and stayed for a few weeks. During that time I heard no voice or even thought about the closet. When she was satisified that the crisis had passed and I had gained sufficient weight again Mama left for home and I was alone.

The very night she left me I heard the voice again. That sultry, low, soothing voice beckoning me. My name sounded so sweet on those lips. I sat up and the door was waiting for me. I opened the closet door and the second door was there but this time it would not open. Try as I might I could not get it to budge. Again my feet were bare and I could feel the cool breeze coming under the door onto my feet which drove me into a frenzy. I must open this door. "Please" I cried out repeatedly. With a heavy heart I sank to the floor and leaned against the second door sobbing. Time seemed to stand still and then the voice called out to me. "Catherine, please come." I jumped up quickly and tried the door again. To my delight it opened and I was again in my oasis. My heart burst with happiness as I looked upon the surroundings. As before, there was something different. This time instead of a camal on the sand dune there was a figure, of a man. I could not see his face but instinctively I knew it was he who had been calling my name. I started to walk towards him when suddenly a strong wind came and blew sand everywhere. I could no longer see, it was a sand storm. Without thinking I closed my eyes hoping to be able to continue forward without the advantage of sight. But when I did so I was back in my bed and the door was gone. A primal scream escaped my lips and I screamed no, no, no until I could scream no more.

Weeks and months passed. I laid in bed drifting between life and death. I heard Stuart's voice from time to time. I heard other people's voices but gradually they stopped coming. Finally I heard that sweet voice once more and it gave me renewed strength, energy and hope. I got dressed and put a note on my front door. The note said that I was fine and that I had decided to visit friends in Ireland. Then I called Stuart and left a a message with his roommate telling him the same thing and that I would call him when I returned. Before I started back to my bedroom I considered calling Mama to leave a message. She had been genuinely concerned for me when I was in the hospital but something held me back, suggesting that I should not call her because she would stop me from seeing my oasis. I never did call her.

On the way back to my bedroom I passed the mirror in the hallway and caught a glimpse of myself. I was bone rack thin. My cheeks were sunken and my skin had a curious yellowish tint to it. I smiled, my skin was showing me the color of the sand. It was dark now and I walked into my bedroom. The closet door was there as I knew it would be. The second door was ajar, waiting for me. As I approached the door the voice began to call out to me. The low sultry whisper that so filled my heart said "Catherine my darling, please come." With rapturous delight I pushed the second door open and stepped into my desert paradise. The oasis was just as beautiful as it had been the first time I had seen it. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the figure in the distance. I felt no fear as I watched him descend from the sand dune. He gestured me towards the water and I obeyed. His attire was that of an Egyptian Prince, covered from head to toe with white flowing garments He was within arms length of me now yet I still felt no danger. He reached for me. I took his hand and he pulled me into him. All this time he had a hood over his head but while he held me close he removed the hood revealing a face of pure evil with eyes growing red as the desert sun above me. I screamed, he pulled my left hand away from the doorknob. When he did so the sand and oasis disappeared leaving nothing but blackness.

Stuart arrived at the cottage a few hours later with the police and Mama. They read the note but Stuart begged the police to break down the door. He was, he told them, convinced that something just wasn't right. When Mama agreed and became quite hysterical the police broke down the door. They rushed into my bedroom and found me dead in my bed. An autopsy revealed to them that I had not eaten or drank anything for months. That essentially I had starved myself to death. After my funeral Stuart cleaned out the cottage and put it up for sale. He walked through one last time and said out loud "Cathy, what happened to you in this cottage?" His question echoed throughout the cottage as he left and locked the door. He did not hear the sultry voice reply "You will never know, no one must know. That way more like her will come again."