Violent Violet has a minion!

the Kelly

“Mommy?... Daddy?... Where are you?... Why aren’t you here with me?... I need you.”

In the middle of a very pleasant street is a smallish house. It is of typical design, with no distinguishing features, sporting a neatly trimmed lawn, a few flower boxes and some children’s toys.

Inside the house lives a very happy family. Two parents, two children, one dog, one cat and a goldfish in a bowl. All in all, the property and its inhabitants are the picture of normality.

Except for the ghost in the attic.

Her name is –was- Violet. And she was, in every way, a perfectly normal little girl. She was born and died in the beginning of the twentieth century, though very little evidence of this remains. Most of it was lost in the fire.

In 1912, the neat little house was considerable larger and not-so-neat. A family of five lived there; a mother and father, and their children: Peter, Marigold and Violet, the youngest. There were also several animals; a dog, a few cats, some chickens, a cow, a horse and Violet’s pet bunny.

Late one nippy winter night, Marigold sat in front of the fire. Though she was tired and the lack of steady light strained her weak eyes, she was lovingly darning a pair of Violet’s socks. She knew it had to be done or Violet, who was prone to illnesses, would catch a cold. She also knew her parents were busy with the farm and Violet was too unassuming to ask for herself. This was a common pattern in the family, Marigold had noticed, and she tried to help out in whatever ways she could, darning socks, for example. As she finished up, spooked by the screeching wind, she rushed through her last few tasks. Letting the cats in, closing the windows, smothering the fire. A minute ember still remained hidden among the coals. Unknowingly, Marigold climbed the ladders to the loft she shared with Violet. The loft was nearly as big as the house. It was all that remained of the barn that had stood there. The house opened onto the second floor of the loft. Violet and Marigold slept on the top floor and the animals sometimes slept on the bottom floor in cold weather, like tonight.

Lying on a blanket in the hall, Kelly was jolted out of her sleep to a layer of hot smoke. Kelly was a guide dog: Violet’s brother Peter was blind. Naturally, her first instinct was to rush to his Peter’s side and guide him safely out of danger. Peter slept in a small room next to his parents, the only other proper bedroom in the house. When Kelly arrived, she saw Peter’s mother pulling the child out of bed, while his father grabbed the boy’s coat.

Seeing that she wasn't needed, Kelly rushed to the girls’ room in the loft. She stopped at the foot of the double ladders, cocked her head and whimpered. Up in the loft, Marigold was shaking Violet awake frantically.

“Violet!,” she shouted, then coughed. “Wake up! Please, there’s a fire!”

There was no response. Violet was a notoriously heavy sleeper. Usually the family teased her about it; it was anything but funny now. Kelly barked, panic thinning her voice. Marigold continued shaking Violet, but her eyes were on the bright red band creeping up one of the ladders. Marigold was deathly afraid of fire.“I’m sorry Violet! I’m so sorry!” and with a strangled whimper, she bolted down the safe ladder like a terrified colt.

She tripped on the last rung and fell on top of Kelly. Shaking herself upright, she grabbed Kelly’s rough, home-made leather collar and pulled.

“C’mon girl, we hafta leave.” The dog wouldn’t move. “Kelly, come on.” Marigold turned to get a better hold on Kelly’s collar and froze. Marigold thought she saw an accusatory glare in the dog’s eyes, like Kelly knew she was abandoning her sister. Marigold ran, down the last ladder, through the barn door and to safety. Kelly watched her go, her eyes on the doorway to safety, not once considering leaving without the girl. None of the other animals shared her sense of responsibility however; they all ran out of the door that Marigold left open.

Kelly howled, a terrified and smoke-choked sound. This, of all things, finally woke Violet up. Now the smoke was opaquely gray, hanging over the beds and blocking her view beyond a couple of feet.

“What’s happening?” Violet shrieked and, inhaling smoke, coughed. A floor below, Kelly yelped and moved closer to one ladder, as the other collapsed under flames. “Kelly? Is that you?” Violet crawled to the edge and looked down. There was Kelly, whining in fear and scratching at the ladder. Violet scrambled down the ladder and grabbed Kelly’s collar. Together they ran to the remaining ladder.

Kelly jumped in front of Violet and pushed her back, growling deep in her throat. Seconds later, the fire that had been stealthily making its way up the ladder snaked into view. Violet started to cry, her shaking hands gripping Kelly’s collar. “We’re going to die! We’re going to die and, and, where is my family?” And the flames moved in.



The family was too heartbroken to continue living in the house. They moved away and the house was eventually demolished completely and rebuilt. Where the loft had been, there was now an attic. Here Violet and the animals that had not escaped; Kelly, a rabbit and a couple chickens; took up residence.

Up in the attic, where no one ever goes because “It’s just so creepy up there,” Violet had collected remnants of her family: albums, gifts given and received, dolls; whatever she could find. She even kept the skeletons of pets. She steals plushies and dolls from the kids when they sleep, gives them names and speaks to them. And she imagines that they speak to her too.

Violet has mixed feelings about her new family, as she calls them. She loves them and often moves though the house covering the children in their beds and playing with their kitten Princess, casting odd lights for her to follow. But sometimes, when she thinks about her old family, she gets angry. At those times, she takes her hurt out on the members of her new family, pulling their hair and tripping them. Sometimes she throws terrible tantrums, which the family would chalk up to “the sounds of a house settling” or thunderstorms.

Name: Violet O'Neil
Age at Death: Six years
Deceased Family Members and their ages at the time of Violet's death:
Mother and Father, mid-late forties;
Peter, brother, eleven;
Marigold, sister; sixteen
New Family Members and their ages:
Mother and Father, early thirties;
Julia and Claire, twins, six
Princess, kitten;
Tiny Dancer, goldfish;
Lassie, puppy
Likes: Flowers, animals, Christmas, naps
Dislikes: Fire, loneliness, bugs