The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven novel Chapter 25

Heavy smoke gradually filled up the hallway, which made it harder to breathe. I covered my nose and mouth partially while leaning into the side of Teddy’s arm. He was immovable, however, perfectly still as he waited for the presence of this fiendish ghost. If it was in fact his mother that haunted the house, it would explain a lot about his behaviour over the last several days. His tiny mentions of his mother, and the way the house was set up in a way that would please her. I suddenly recalled the conversation that he must have had with her, realizing that she was defensive of me being in the house with him from the very start. Was she jealous of his affections for me? Or was there something darker, and more rooted in evil than that? Was it her voice that I heard from the cellars? Was it her that was calling him from upstairs? I stood there absolutely flabbergasted, stunned with the knowledge that a ghost had been in his house all along. I could picture the sketches he made in his secret book, the self-portraits of him throughout the room with a shaded patch of grey always beside him. Was that the reason he often looked over his shoulder in worry? The reason he was so determined to not have me in the house for too long? The very reason he feared to touch me or kiss me, because she was somewhere in the house the entire time?

“Teddy,” filled the air all around us, like a soft gust of wind. “You said you would protect me.”

Her son stepped forward with a great heaving of his chest. “And I will.”

“Protect me,” sounded from upstairs to drift down to the hallway where her son stood. The narrow hallway was steadily becoming darker, my hand pressed tighter against my nose and mouth because the smoke was making it so hard for me to breathe. If Teddy and I stayed here any longer, we could suffocate to death.

“I will protect you,” Teddy reassured her, after he bravely took a step forward. “But I have to live my life too. I can’t always be here.”

“You must stay.”

“I will stay,” he stated with a firmness to his voice, while looking straight ahead of him as if she was in front of him all along. “But my father is dead. He cannot harm us anymore.”

The chains to the door shook heavily from the kitchen, a grave reminder that the ghost in the cellar still wanted to be set free.

“He died,” Teddy articulated in a clear voice. “He cannot harm us. I’ve done my share of protecting you and bringing your house back to its former glory. I’ve done everything for you!” He stepped forward with more determination this time, letting go of my hand in the process. “But now it is time for me to live my own life!”

The hook next to the cellar door broke free with a violent blow, following with the clattering of chains that crashed to the floor. Teddy stepped back defensively and immediately grabbed a hold of my hand. “Run!” he yelled over his shoulder. He sprinted down the hallway with me close at his tail. I looked over my shoulder to see a shadowy grey form whizzing in my direction with a deafening scream. I ran as fast as I could into the cloud of smoke, following the ominous glow of the back of Teddy’s white t-shirt that shined in the density of the smoke. He dove to the left, and I soon followed, crashing into his back immediately with a hard stop. “Move!” he roared, and used his hand to shove me aside before I heard the door violently shut behind him. “The window.” He ran over to it, and found that it was tightly shut as well, but that did not dissuade him. “I need your help.”

I joined his side and grabbed the end of a wooden bench that he kept under his desk. “What now?”

“Hit the corner of the glass where it’s weakest,” he instructed in a breathless voice. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He hurled himself forward and I soon followed, until we struck the heavy object into the glass. There was a sound of cracking instantly, a good sign since this part of the room was being filled up with smoke as well. “Again!” We moved backwards slowly, for we were exhausted at this point. “Now!” he yelled out, and then we ran forward to bang the hard edge of the bench into the glass yet again. The crack rang more clearly into the air, a hopeful sign that made a smile spread across my face. “Maybe one last time,” Teddy pondered aloud. “Let’s move further back.”

I was just stepping back even more, when I felt something wrap around my legs that made me scream. A hard yank succeeded, sending me into the air and hard upon the floor with the flying bench just nearly hitting my head. “Teddy!” I cried out in terror. Something was wrapping around my leg, growing tighter by the second. I looked down at my legs to see something resembling rope tightly wrapped around my ankles in the moonlight. “Teddy!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, because the thing around my leg was quickly growing in strength to the point that it was starting to hurt.

“Oh my God,” he uttered out in disbelief, and quickly lowered his end of the bench to come over to me. “Hold on!”

He was just reaching out for my hand when the rope pulled me backwards, slipping me out of his arm’s way completely. I screamed aloud while dragging my nails into the wood, trying to find anything to stop me. Teddy ran after me, hands outstretched to take a hold of my hand, but thankfully my feet slammed right into the studio door. I recoiled my legs upwards, bending myself enough to try and untie the rope around my feet. The material felt so real I was certain none of it was my imagination. Teddy took a hold of my waist and hoisted me off the ground, taking this small window of opportunity to pull me away from the door.

“Stay here,” he urged, and ran back to his desk to my surprise. A small wooden stool was lifted above his head, and with all his strength he crashed it against the glass. Shards flew everywhere, scattering across the outside lawn to leave Teddy mostly unharmed. He tossed the stool out the window for extra measure, before sprinting towards me. He reached for my waist to tug me away, knowing that he couldn’t go far before the rope would yank me back to the doorway again. He looked aghast as he uttered: “It’s rope.”

“I think it’s real,” I lamented in a shaky voice.

“She used rope for a reason,” he hushed out with despair. “It’s a message for me.”