Read the other two parts if it helps you to understand what's coming next. Also note that I am Australian, so words like center become centre and realization becomes realisation. Please do not pull me up on this!
9
“AAAHHH!” It was the second time I had screamed in two days. I heard a mad cackle of laughter, and, face flushing red with embarrassment, I faced Evil, who was clutching his sides.
“Man,” he sniggered, “you should have heard your scream!” I punched him softly on the shoulder, not hard enough to cause pain, but enough pressure for him to get the message.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” I growled warningly.
“Sorry, Max,” he said, his laughter dieing down, “I couldn’t resist.” He gave me a playful slap on the back. “So, are you ready to break in?”
“Oh, sure,” I responded sarcastically. I had a very minor question to ask him. “How the hell are we going to enter if the place is locked?” Public places are sure to have security… right?
“Locked?” he repeated, amused. “This place is neva’ shut up. Always open.”
And to demonstrate, he pushed open the oak doors.
“Woah,” I gasped, “it looks really…creepy.”
“That’s the point, you see,” said Evil, “otherwise the place wouldn’t get its reputation for bein’ haunted.
And with that statement, he hushed me inside.
The castle was far roomier then it appeared to be from the outside. The main entrance’s walls, made from smooth stone, spiralled up towards the ceiling, which was giving the impression of an upside-down cone. Flame torches hung from iron brackets, their lights flickering, casting enormous shadows wherever the light did not reach. A grand, crimson carpet stretched across the length of the room, all the way to the wooden stairs right opposite the entrance.
As I stood there beside Evil, who seemed to be enjoying the thrill of the eerie illusion cast by the fortress, I suddenly detected a musty smell lingering in the air. I hadn’t noticed it before, because I had been mesmerised by the castle. It was quite disgusting, and my nose screwed up in repulsion.
“Eugh!” I spat, “Evil, do you smell that?”
I glance at Evil for an answer, but he didn’t seem to notice me. He just simply stared around, wearing a close-to blank expression. But his eyes… I don’t know. Was it recognition or relief I found in them?
“Evil?”
“What?” He started suddenly. “Oh- oh, yeah, right. Mmm, funny smell.” And like that, the moment was gone, replaced by cringe-worthy silence.
“I still can’t believe no-one monitors this place,” I said, trying to soften up the mood.
“Yeah, kinda cool tho’! It makes more excitement for us!” He said, now beaming. He seemed to have forgotten about the silence. “Have you checked out the stuff on the walls?”
He pointed to some portraits, which were dusty and gold-framed, and some objects like copper and brass plates; they had little boxes underneath that had information scrawled on them. It was obvious they had been added for the enlightenment of the tourists. I edged closer, observing.
One caught my eye, however: it was a black-and-white portrait of many men, women and children dressed in olden-style clothing. Most were looking solemn; others looking horrified. The information at the bottom read “Patrons of the Black House, shortly after the Black Massacre of 1698. One day after this portrait was painted, the guests promptly evacuated.”
I could see the children (about my age) in the portrait; some looking agitated, some looking excited. All of their eyes were widened with emotion and extremely clear in the painting, drawing all the attention to them. When I looked closer, some of their clothes appeared ripped and torn. Why were these children restless? Were they bursting to get out and play?
Or did they just simply not understand the grim situation they were in?
I shivered and turned away. I did not want to think about it any longer. I instead focused on another intriguing thought.
“So, Evil? Now that we are here… what are we going to do?” I said it a little too bluntly on accident.
He stared at me as if I was dumb.
“What do you think? Explorin’, of course!”
10
Out of nowhere, my fishy companion withdrew a torch from underneath the jacket he was wearing. It was slim, black and portable, easily carried in one hand. At the press of a button, it’s bright, artificial light shimmered into life. Once more, his free hand groped around in the jacket and pulled out other identical torch, throwing it to me. Luckily, I was paying attention and caught it, because it was definitely heavier than I expected.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s go up the stairs. I know there’ll be plenty of rooms to explore. I don’t reckon even the staff that work here have bin’ everywhere.”
I shrugged, not knowing how to respond to this, and used my torch’s light to guide my shuffling feet upwards.
Now there was only silence between us, I had time to think. And the more I thought of the circumstances I was in, the more I felt vulnerable.
I was in a “supposedly” haunted castle, with a newfound friend who increasingly has me worried about his behaviour, at the dead of the night: nobody would argue that this isn’t the least bit worrying. Did I actually fall asleep after my disagreement with my mother, and this is just a vivid dream? It would explain the creepy coincidence of the house exactly resembling the castle in my nightmare the other night. I honestly wanted to believe this, but a dream this real couldn’t be a figment of my imagination.
Or could it? Since I’ve moved to this town, everything has seemed so unusual. The enthusiastically-insane teacher, the students who all seem to loathe me, the daredevil friend…
No. My brain was just overexciting itself, wanting to make something out of nothing. I angrily pushed these thoughts away, regretting my decision to take the time to mull over things. My mouth formed a straight line. I was determined to be brave.
As we reached the top of the stairs, we met a long corridor that appeared to have no end. Of course this was due to the darkness that our lights did not penetrate, but it was scary all the same. The walls were lined with doors, and at the same time, if our brains were riding the same thought-wave, Evil and I checked the doors closest to us simultaneously.
Damn. Both were locked. It figures: Leave the front entrance open, but lock everything inside. Evil made a frustrated, gutted sound when his attempts to yank the door ajar failed.
“Let’s try further up,” Evil said, still fuming. We crept along, torches held above us, like we were about to strike something with them.
Now I started to wonder about the “fun” part of this illegal activity. I couldn’t see the excitement, and as we hopelessly checked door after door, I kept thinking the only thrilling thing that could happen was if the police came barging in and arrested us. Or if we found a ghost, but that was impossible. Ghosts didn’t exist.
My mouth was still firmly shut, not only because of my determination, but Evil’s, too. He didn’t complain even when we had to climb another flight of stairs, so I wasn’t going to start groaning.
Finally, after what seemed the millionth door, Evil suddenly cried out in exuberance.
“Got one! It’s open, it’s open!”
Not even I could hide my joy. I turned and he was slowly opening the door to reveal…
11
A living room.
Lavishly furnished with comfortable objects, I could almost feel the grandeur of the place as I crossed into the area. A window allowed moonlight to spill into the room, revealing its contents. A brick fireplace held remainders of wood, now crumbled to ash. A crystal chandelier hung limply over our heads. A soft, crimson rug lay stretched in the centre of the room. It would be perfect, except…
“How does this match the rest of the castle?” I voice my thoughts out loud, “I mean, this castle is old and mediocre. And then you have this room, which is all flashy and expensive. Maybe the council did this place up themselves. What do you think, Evil?”
No response.
“Evil?”
These cliff-hanging answers were becoming frustratingly common.
I turned to my side, about ready to tell him this so, until I noticed he was not beside me anymore.
Instead, my friend was half collapsed at the side of a couch, clutching its arm for support, torch long discarded.
“Evil!” I yell, rushing to his side, dropping my own torch. “Evil, what’s the matter?” There was only a groan in response.
I checked for an obvious sign of injury, but there was none. No bleeding or bruising. It was clearly something I couldn’t see.
“No,” he muttered, barely audible, so I leaned in close to hear him, “he’s here, safe. No, please! Don’t punish me!” his voice pitch rose with the last few words. I could see the horror sketched onto his pallid face, the frightened look in his widened, piercing blue eyes.
He grabbed my shirt and yanked me closer. My own eyes broadened in shock.
And suddenly, before I could grasp the situation, a haunting, chilling voice spoke.
“Max Henderson. Finally.”
Everything seemed to happen at once.
I spun around, releasing Evil’s grip, to face a child, sunken and gaunt in the cheeks, maniacally laughing. It seemed to flicker in and out of existence like a projector. Then the child, still cackling, stretched out in a kaleidoscope blur of colours, and as I screamed in terror, the multi-coloured shadow suddenly darted towards me. I doubled back, collapsing on my ankles, my head inevitably thudding against the arm of the sofa that was behind me.
I knew it was too late. My head seared with the pain of colliding with the chair. My heart was having spasms. The cold feeling of dread washed over me, and it was then I knew I was going to die here.
And as darkness threatened to ebb at my vision, for the pain and disbelief was too much for my failing body, I took one last fleeting glance at Evil.
He only gave me a hopeless stare back.
And then I was no more.
How's that for cliffhangers, R.L. Stine? Yes, that's right: ITS NOT OVER YET. MUAHAHAHA. There will be one final part released after this. I was going to add the 12th chapter at the end, but it would have spoilt the cliffhanger, so I decided not to.
Reviews, please!
OMG They had cameras that time!!!
Gender:
Points: 5950
Reviews: 75