by LL Helland
Jon looked down at his arm. “I don’t think I can eat.”
They headed downstairs to the kitchen. Trisha thought she heard something coming from one of the rooms. “Did you hear that, Chris?”
“Hear what? I smell cookies, though.” He ran full speed for the kitchen.
Although Jon’s stomach was a bit weak, he could never resist an opportunity to show Chris up, so he ran past him, of course, and reached the kitchen first. By the time the others came into the kitchen, Jon felt better and was just finishing his victory dance. Chris grabbed a handful of chocolate chip cookies and shoved them into his mouth as fast as he could.
Granmama entered the kitchen last. “Chris, slow down. There are plenty of cookies. You may eat as many as you want.” They did not get to eat cookies, cakes, or candy very often at home—just for birthdays or special occasions. Mom always said they were hyper enough without sugar. Chris figured she was mostly talking about him, though.
They finally headed for their rooms, and Granmama said, “Children, you will now all take charge of your own lives and adventures.”
She looked right at Chris. “Chris, do you understand what I mean by this?”
Chris felt like he did when his teachers asked him, “Chris, do you understand what I just said, or do you need it explained again?” Chris usually had no idea what his teachers wanted him to comprehend, and he definitely did not have a clue what his great-grandmother was saying to him now. But, from previous experience, he knew to just say yes. So that is what came out of his mouth.
Chris thought it was like having a huge Rolodex in his mind. His father had one in his office, on his desk, an antique-looking thing that held information on cards and you turned the wheel to find the exact card you wanted. (If you looked in his top desk drawer, Chris thought you would also find his father’s abacus for counting.) At times, Chris frantically searched his mind for the index card he needed. No matter how fast his mind searched for that particular card, he was unable to find it. It has been misfiled, but he knew that, at some later date, when he wouldn’t need that information, it would pop up and be available to him exactly when it would be useless.
Great-Grandmother’s voice brought Chris back to the here and now. Chris shook his head a little bit. “Yes, I understand, Granmama.”
As they were finishing their snack, Great-Grandmother could see a disturbing sight walking by the kitchen window. She could see the backstabbers, the weird-looking Professor Mend, Bundlebobs, Godfrey, and so on.
Brittany said, “I need to use the bathroom.”
Great-grandmother almost yelled, “Brittany, use the one in your room. Get going, children, before the lights go out. I have every light on in this old place, and hopefully we won’t blow a fuse.” She had to get the children out of the kitchen before it was filled with odd goons and ghouls. “Hurry now, children. I left flashlights in your rooms if you should need them.”
CHAPTER 13
Chris took off running toward his room, turning back for just a second to watch his siblings climb the stairs and disappear onto the second floor. As Chris reached his room, the lights suddenly went out.
Chris mumbled, “Must have blown a fuse.” He made his way over to the steel surgical table, searching for the flashlight, with his arms stretched out in front of him, feeling nothing but air. He thought the blackness was worse than being blind; it seemed to engulf him. If my hands weren’t attached to my arms, I could lose them in here, he thought. His foot bumped into something that felt like his luggage, just as his right hand collided with something cold and sleek. He immediately knew it was the stainless steel operating table. Chris felt the sleeping bag and pillow and groped around for the flashlight.
His hand nudged something, and he heard a loud smack. The flashlight hit the floor and rolled, clinking on the ground with every turn. Chris listened so intently that he thought his ears were going to burst. Quickly he got down on his knees and followed the sound. He knew that if he didn’t find the flashlight before it came to a complete stop, he would never find it.
The floor felt like ice as Chris crawled around. The flashlight had almost come to a stop when he finally found it. He picked it up, crossed his fingers, and said softly, “I hope I haven’t broken it.” As he slid his thumb over the button, a blaze of light lit up the room, and he sighed in relief. Chris wondered how blind people could do this every day. His teacher’s husband was blind. He came to school with his helper dog to enlighten the class on the daily struggles of his handicap. Chris didn’t really get it that day, but he did now. The simplest things turn into a big ordeal.
Chris reached over the steel table and twisted the center handle on the OR light, but nothing happened. Chris said, “Granmama had made it look so easy. Maybe there is some type of trick.” After fiddling with the light for a few minutes, he got it to work. Chris turned off his flashlight—he needed to save the batteries for nighttime visits to the bathroom.
Chris put his bag on the steel table and found his T-shirt and wild pineapple boxers that he usually slept in. He didn’t know why, but he quickly looked around the room to see if anyone was watching him. The room was empty, but he still dressed as quickly as he could. Chris smoothed the sleeping bag over the steel table and punched the pillow a couple of times before climbing on the table and slipping into the bag.
As Chris reached up to turn out the light, he could hear a faint voice say, “Brush your teeth.” Chris thought it must have been in his head—his mother told him at least three to four times every night. But it sounded more like a child than his mother. Obediently he grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, and flashlight and headed for the nearest bathroom. Chris had earlier spotted a bathroom several doors down. As he opened the bathroom door, the light spilled out into the hallway, but was quickly eaten up by darkness.
The bathroom was just made for one; it didn’t have stalls, just one toilet, shower, and sink. He set his flashlight carefully on the sink and went about his business. This reminded him of when the electricity had gone out at lacrosse camp one summer. That had been fun—playing light tag and hiding in the dorm. This wasn’t fun, but then, when you are all by yourself, nothing really is.
He quickly left the bathroom and headed back to his room. On the way, his flashlight repeatedly flickered off and on. “Oh, great! I hope it’s just the batteries.”
In his room, with the light still on, he dug through his luggage to find some spare batteries in the video games he had brought with him. He put the extra batteries under the pillow for safekeeping and climbed into the sleeping bag. With one hand, he reached up and grabbed the light handle, gave it a firm twist, and the room went dark.
Chris wondered if he would be able to fall asleep. It seemed too calm, and he was used to a lot of noise when he fell asleep. If it ever got too quiet at home, which very rarely happened, he would turn on the TV and soon be out. I could put the batteries back into the game and play a little. That might help. Or I could lie here and count to one hundred, he thought.
That reminded him that he didn’t have his lacrosse stick. He always kept it close by. He ran his hand around the outside of the steel table, until he felt the metal handle of the stick. It was propped up against the table. He picked it up and began bouncing an imaginary ball against an imaginary wall, then catching it. Jon was always telling him that he needed to practice on “the wall” more.
Jon would say, “Do this hundreds of times a day, Chris, and you will be a great lacrosse player. Don’t hesitate. Just keep throwing and catching as fast as you can.”
Jon had always told him to try it with his eyes closed to get the feel of his stick. Well, now he was trying it with his eyes shut, but he had no ball or wall—just his stick. He must have done it a couple hundred times before he finally fell asleep.
Chris awoke with a jerk. Someone was talking in a very, loud boisterous voice.
“Chris, wake up! You idle lad.”
Chris thought he was at home in Boston. It must be
the closet creature. He reached for his baseball bat, but only found his lacrosse stick.
An image was standing next to him. Chris swung his lacrosse stick, but it passed right through the image.
The old man laughed. “You think I’m a bit strange, do you?”
The only light in the room was coming from the old man, who was radiating with a warm glow. “Speechless, lad, I know you better than that. I’m your great-grandfather. Now, if you could put down the stick for just a moment, I’ll explain things.”
Chris had never seen a picture of his great-grandfather, but from what his great-grandmother had said earlier, the old man looked “odd” enough. He looked like a throwback from the hippie era. He was not a prisoner to fashion. That was obvious.
“Can’t this wait until tomorrow? The plane trip was long, and I’m a bit worn out.”
The old man said in a very dry tone, “Silence!”
Chris was not going to take this rude behavior. “Now, old man, you need to back away. When you wake someone up in the middle of the night, the least you can do is be civil about things.”
Chris’s great-grandfather rolled his eyes. “This is going to be harder than I thought. Aren’t you scared of me?”
“A little at first, but what’s there to be afraid of? You know, if you are some type of wizard or something, you are dressed all wrong. The tie-dyed shirt and headband have to go. The long white hair and beard fit the part, though.”
“Chris, could we just skip my appearance for now? I thought this was the fashion for the time.”
“For my dad’s generation, but not mine. Hey, have you visited my brother and sisters yet?”
Great-Grandfather rubbed his forehead. “No! I’ve come to see you.”
Chris said, “I see. I’m the only one who is losing sleep tonight!”
“I’ll have to send your mum a sympathy card. You are quite a handful.”
“Oh, now you’re a comedian.”
“Let’s start over. My name is Alastair. I have come to take you on an adventure.”
Chris interrupted. “You’re a spirit guide?”
“Yes, something like that. Anyway, I have brought you something.”
Chris held up his lacrosse stick. “Would it be a new stick? I prefer titanium.”
“No! It’s not a new stick.” Chris’s great-grandfather was almost begging Chris at this point. “Please, can I just finish my thoughts?”
“Sure, go right ahead. What’s stopping you?”
He handed Chris a crystal ball. “You will carry this around…”
Chris wouldn’t let him go any further. “Wait right there. I won’t carry any snow globe around with me. It’s girlish, and it’s too big.”
“It’s not a snow globe. It’s a crystal ball.”
Chris held his hand in the air. “Same thing! No way! It’s too big. What do you expect me to do, carry it in a fanny pack around my waist?”
Alastair said, “A wand?”
“Nope.”
“Mirror.”
“Nope.”
“Chris, how’s a pouch sound?”
“Nope.”
“A hat, then.”
“As long as it’s not an ugly hat.”
Alastair held up the wizard-looking hat.
“Nice try.”
“How about a tarot card? It can fit in your pocket.”
Chris pointed to his pineapple boxer shorts. “Don’t have any pockets in these things. Maybe you can suggest that to the underwear manufacturers.”
“A watch, then.”
“I don’t really need a watch, but I see you’re running out of ideas. So what will this watch do for me? Make me a better lacrosse player? Smarter? Taller? Well, it can’t be better looking because I’ve already got that covered.”
Alastair shook his head no.
Chris sat there thinking. “Do I get three wishes? Let’s see, right off the top of my head, I’d like…”
“No! You will know when to use it.”
“Yeah! When I need to see what time it is.”
Alastair pushed the watch into Chris’s hands. “Just take it. Please!”
“Fine, can I go back to sleep now?”
In the hallway, it sounded like a fight.
Alastair was exhausted. “I’ve got to go. It sounds like Eanrik got out, and he’s looking for his next meal.”
Chris mumbled, “Just a watch, not even an expensive one,” then yelled after Alastair, “Thanks for waking me up. I bet I won’t be able to get back to sleep.”
Fortunately, Chris was quickly asleep. Alastair didn’t wish for Chris to hear the commotion in the hallway with Eanrik as he dragged him back down toward the basement.
CHAPTER 14
Trisha said good night to her brother and sister and walked to her room. Trisha was very organized and seemed to be prepared for anything. She found her luggage next to the coffin, and the flashlight Granmama must have left for her on the pillow.
Trisha noticed the male wax manikin was still in the room, but the one that looked like her was gone. She walked over to where it had stood before and found an empty white lace dress lying on the floor in a heap.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a black, shiny baby grand piano that had not been in the room before.
She passed by the piano, running her fingers along the keys. She could only play a few songs by memory, even though she had taken lessons for a few years. “I definitely know this was not here earlier. Chris would have commented on it. I’ll see if I can still remember how to play any songs tomorrow.”
Fatigue from the long flight began to wear on Trisha, and she suddenly felt very tired. She dug through her luggage and found her overnight bag. She had quite a long walk to the bathroom and wondered if there was a closer bathroom down the hall to the right. She decided to go that way tomorrow and see.
When she finally got to the bathroom, Trisha got ready for bed. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, took her calcium, and put on her favorite pajamas, pink with ballerinas. She looked like a little girl. Trisha was studying herself in the mirror when she felt something go past her and a dusty figure appeared in the mirror behind her. She let out a small scream and then took a deep breath. She knew Chris must be somewhere, laughing himself into stomach pains.
Trisha said quietly, “Hopefully, no one heard that.” It was more of a surprised scream than a “help me” scream.
Trisha gathered her things and went back to her room quickly, keeping an eye out for Jon or Chris.
She made it back to her room without a problem, but, when she got there, the piano was playing and the wedding dress was dancing by itself, as if someone were wearing it, but no one was. She pulled a piece of material between her fingers. It was white silk—or it had been white at one time. Now it had just a slight yellow tinge to it. Delicate lace covered the shoulders up to the neck, with lace sleeves to match. It looked to be Trisha’s size—a size zero. Suddenly a slight breeze from somewhere blew against Trisha’s face.
There must be a vent open in here, she thought. The light lace arms of the dress danced and swayed back and forth.
“Weird!” she breathed. Trisha knew she ought to be scared, but she wasn’t. The painting on the wall, the one with Mrs. Toddles in the purple dress, caught her eye. It appeared almost three-dimensional. Trisha rubbed her eyes and walked over to it. Warmth came from the picture, gluing her to the spot. She did not know how long she stood staring at the picture, but she knew she had better get some sleep before she started seeing anything else peculiar.
She took a last look at the male wax figure. “He’s sure handsome, too bad he’s not real.” There in front of Trisha was the man of her dreams. So, she quickly reached up and kissed him on the lips. She got a shock. It was like when you shuffle your feet on the carpet and then touch a light switch when the air is dry. “Ouch.” She rubbed her lips with her fingers to dissipate the tingling.
She was beginning to get very tired when she climbe
d into the coffin. Trisha yawned several times, and through hazy eyes she looked at Mrs. Toddles again. Large worms were oozing out around the carved wooden picture frame as the handsome male manikin was scooping the worms up and filling a bucket.
Trisha yelled, “Chris I’m going to tell Great-Grandmother if you don’t quit these terrible, disturbing jokes of yours.” She heard something making its way down the hallway, scraping the wall with something metal. “Chris, I’m not kidding!” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have gotten up and yelled at Chris face-to-face.
She looked back at Mrs. Toddles, and there was nothing out of place. Trisha smiled to herself when she thought about how much trouble her younger brother was going to be in for trying to scare her. She pulled the soft blanket up to her shoulders. She soon fell asleep.
Trisha had no idea that Eanrik was roaming the hallways looking for his next victim. It was the thing making the noise in the hallway, not Chris. Or that the man of her dreams would soon turn into her nightmare.
CHAPTER 15
Brittany looked at the number outside her room again. It still read 292. Why would Granmama give her the same room as her locker number at school? Maybe Mom had told her what her locker number was.
Brittany did not know if she should wear the isolation gear or not. She was not sick, and, besides, the person in the room did not wear the protective clothing, right? Just the other people entering the room. She opted not to put on any of the cumbersome isolation gear.
She quickly went through her luggage, found her toothbrush and oversized nightshirt, and went to get ready for bed. She turned on a dull overhead light, and when she was done in the bathroom, flicked it off and started toward her bed.
She stepped on something and grabbed the wall to keep from falling. She flipped the light back on, looking for what had just run across her feet. It was a chicken. Brittany ran and jumped into her bed, looking across the room at the wall mural. The chicken—the one that seemed to move earlier—was no longer in the picture. That chicken had taken up residence in her room. She grabbed the call button and frantically pushed it as many times as she could.
