by Adam Dark
Each of my friends opened the chests at the foot of their chosen quarters and threw the blankets over their beds. They climbed in and were out within seconds. I was left standing by the door, wide awake.
I regained full control of my senses the moment the last boy closed his eyes. That was when I heard the voices.
15
I opened my eyes a sliver. A bright beam of light filtered through the window and shined on my face. I rolled over and stretched my neck. I was near the back of the huge dormitory, lying on the floor by the only window in the room.
The rest of the boys were still asleep. My body ached. My mouth was dry. I didn’t remember falling asleep. I had stayed up as long as I could in case the mysterious man returned, but he never did.
More alarming than the non-activity was how I had come to settle in at the back of the room. I had spent the night sitting on the floor near the front door, and yet, here I was. Worse even, I couldn’t remember walking over here.
I leaned my head against the wall and stared out into the room. The door loomed like a foreboding shadow; a gateway to hell or heaven. I had yet to determine which. As my head cleared and my eyes adjusted to the light, I pried myself off the ground. I wiped the sleep from the corners of my eyes and stretched some more.
My shoulders were stiff as though someone had tied them behind my back all night. My legs were heavy weights and didn’t want to move. I shook them out until the blood began to flow again.
I walked over to the first sleeping body. I pushed on the blanket, but my hand met only air. I lifted the blanket to find an empty bed. I checked the next bed. The same thing. All of the beds were empty.
My pulse quickened. Where were my friends? Panic began to set in as I raced across the room to the door. It was open a crack. I paused at the door when I heard voices.
I pulled the door open slowly and crept out. There were only two rooms on the second floor. The one we stayed in and what lay beyond the mysterious black door. It led to what I could only imagine was a dark place I wanted nothing to do with.
As I walked by it to head downstairs, I had an eerie feeling that someone was watching me. My head throbbed and my ears pricked as though a whisper were teasing my eardrums. I hurried down the stairs two steps at a time. My feet slid on the bottom and my body slammed into the wall.
A giant chandelier hovered over me. It stretched all the way to the third floor and was easily five feet wide. How I had missed something so big the night before was beyond me. There were more strange things that I hadn’t caught either.
Like the pictures on the wall along the stairwell. Each one portrayed the painted caricature of the owner of the house. There were ten pictures. The closest one to the bottom was of the man who had opened the door to us.
His face was younger in the painting, but his eyes just as dark. My head swirled to the side. I could hear talking from down the hall. That was another thing about the house. It was huge. I had to go through no less than three rooms before I got to the living room that led to the kitchen.
That’s where the voices were coming from. They grew louder the closer I got. I lunged into the kitchen, ready to tackle the man of the house to save my friends—but was shocked to see my friends all laughing.
Nico and Ian were sitting at the table drinking out of wine glasses, pretending they were at a fancy ballroom dance. Henry was by the stove, wearing an apron around his waist. Max was sitting on the countertop, swinging his feet back and forth.
They didn’t even notice my presence.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Max was the only one to respond. The others continued with what they were doing as if I didn’t exist or they hadn’t heard me.
“Hey, Ben! Henry’s making pancakes,” Max said. “You want some? He’s working on his second batch.”
I stared at him as if he had asked me if I wanted to pour termites into my pants. My eyes panned to the right onto Henry and the long-flowing apron.
I walked over.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Oh, hey! Glad you could join us. Are you hungry?” Henry asked.
Was he serious?
“No,” I said. “What are you doing? Where did you get this stuff?”
“From the pantry. Mr. Constantine said we could help ourselves,” Henry said.
There was no sign of the man, and as I looked further, Peter either.
“Where’s Peter?”
Henry pointed to the back door with the spatula in his left hand. Right about then Peter came waltzing through the back door, carrying a basket on his left elbow.
“It’s about time!” Ian exclaimed.
“Next time you go find your own eggs,” Peter said.
He was covered in feathers. I walked over.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
Peter had a cut on his face and along both arms. He brushed the feathers off as best as he could.
“These two knuckleheads wanted eggs. Said they didn’t want pancakes,” Peter said.
“Eggs?” I asked.
I peered into the basket he was carrying. There were ten brown eggs inside.
“Where did you get these?” I asked.
“There’s a chicken coop out back near the woods,” Nico said.
“A what?”
“Are you feeling okay? You look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Nico said.
“Since when has there been a chicken coop out back? And since when did Henry start cooking?” I asked.
“It’s simple enough. Just follow the directions,” Henry said from the stove. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Nico lifted the glass and took another sip.
“Is that wine?” I asked.
He spun the liquid in his teeth, puckered his cheeks, and swallowed.
“Why yes. Yes, it is,” Nico said.
“You’re drinking wine?”
My head was spinning. None of this was making any sense. My friends weren’t acting normal. That’s not right. It wasn’t my friends who were acting strange, though they did seem a little off, but the whole situation was anything but normal.
“We need to get out of here,” I said.
“I just got the eggs. Do you have any idea what I had to go through to retrieve these? I’ll tell you, chickens are not as harmless as you might think. They guard their eggs ’til death,” Peter said.
“Don’t you find any of this strange?” I asked.
The three of them looked blankly at me.
“Do you guys not realize where we are?” I asked.
“Yeah, we’re hanging out at Mr. Constantine’s house,” Ian said.
“Exactly! He’s a murderer!” I said.
“You really shouldn’t talk about someone behind their back. He’s not even here to defend himself,” Max said from behind me.
I swerved around.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“He went to town for a few items. He said he’d be back later and to make ourselves at home,” Henry said.
Max slid a piece of paper along the counter to me.
“He left a note,” Max said.
I snatched it and read.
Dear boys,
I hope you slept well. It’s a pleasure to have your company. Last night was the best night I’ve had for a long time. Thank you for that. I know you may need to leave, but feel free to help yourself to the pantry.
I have pancakes ready to go if you’re hungry and there are eggs in the coop out back. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you woke up, but I had some errands to attend to in town. I’ll be back later.
I would love it if you would join me for supper. I’ll be roasting lamb and potatoes. See you soon.
—TC
I let the sheet fall from my fingers.
“It’s time to go,” I said.
I stormed through the kitchen. I stopped at the exit. None of them moved.
“Guys! Did you hear what I said?”
&nb
sp; “We haven’t eaten breakfast yet,” Peter said from the back door.
He carried the basket of eggs and set them on the counter. He proceeded to reach for one of the upper cabinets and retrieve a white bowl. He cracked each of the eggs into the bowl before joining Henry at the stove.
“I don’t think you guys are listening,” I said.
“No, I don’t think you are,” Nico said.
He stood to his feet. His eyes flashed with rage.
“You’re always trying to ruin the fun. First you didn’t want us coming here. Now you want us to leave. We’re done listening to you,” Nico said.
“Do you hear yourselves? We’re INSIDE the haunted mansion,” I said. “None of this is even supposed to be here. We’re not supposed to be here.”
“It doesn’t look haunted to me,” Nico said. “What about you guys?”
Each of my friends shook their heads and grunted, “No.” Nico directed his eyes back to me.
“Who said the place was haunted to begin with?” Nico asked.
He paced the dining room, holding his wine glass in his fingers.
“Who didn’t want us to come? Who was the one who kept saying it was dangerous and that we’d get eaten by some scary creature? Who was the one who told the stories of the abandoned house and of the man who once lived in it?” Nico asked.
He let the questions hang in the air.
“What are you getting at?” I asked.
“You were the one who said all of those things. You were the one who didn’t want us coming here. The one who said this place was uninhabited and a death trap. Does it look scary to you? What about you, Henry?”
He shook his head.
“And you?”
“I like it here,” Max said.
“You see! Even Max isn’t afraid. So what’s got you all worked up? Are you jealous that you’re not the center of attention anymore?” Nico mocked.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
He tossed his head back and threw his hands in the air.
“Come on! We all know you’re a suck-up. You always have been and always will be. You hang out with us so you can make yourself feel better. You think just because you live in a fancy house, with a fancy car, and nice clothes that you’re better than us. I have news for you. I’ve had enough,” Nico said.
“You’re out of your mind. I don’t even know what you’re saying. You need to stop drinking,” I said.
“Always trying to tell me what to do too. I can make my own decisions,” Nico said. “You’re not the boss anymore. I am.”
Nico raised his glass in the air.
“You can’t make that decision for the others,” I said.
“Let’s take a vote. Who here thinks Ben should be in charge?’
No one raised their hands.
“Who thinks I should be?” Nico asked.
Each of their hands went up.
Nico shrugged.
“Sorry, the people have spoken. What you say no longer matters. I’m in charge now and I say we stay,” Nico said.
The boys cheered.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I said. “This isn’t you.”
“This is the real me. I’m done faking and trying to be someone I’m not around you. We all are. Maybe it’s you who is the problem. If you don’t like it, then leave,” Nico said.
I stood there in silence, transfixed by the confusing horror that lay before me. My friend had become a monster overnight. Was he serious? Did he really mean what he was saying? Did they all feel the same?
My vision shifted from one friend to the next. Each one held the same look of contempt.
“Well, what do you know. The silver tongue has nothing to say for once,” Nico said, clapping his free hand against his opposite palm.
I could feel warm tears forming in my tear ducts. My lip began to quiver.
“Ah, is the baby going to cry,” Nico said. He puckered his cheeks and pretended to cry.
I fought back the tears.
“You don’t mean this. None of you do. You’re not being yourselves. It’s something about this house,” I said.
Peter dumped the eggs onto a frying skillet and was monitoring them with his own spatula. They all averted their gaze and went back to what they were doing. Only Nico continued to look at me.
“You don’t mean it,” I muttered again. “I’ll get help.”
I turned and ran to the front door.
“Run, little baby. Don’t bother coming back! We don’t want you anyway,” Nico’s voice echoed through the house as I ran.
I ripped the latch to the side and jerked the door open. A wave of energy knocked me backward. My back slammed into the bottom step and my head smacked into the banister.
16
My eyelids flickered as something warm dripped down the front of my face. I tasted iron in my mouth. My vision was blurred and my head throbbed beyond recognition.
The front door stood flung open. The world outside was dark and murky as though I were looking through a thick cloud of muddy water. I rolled to my side and picked myself up off the ground. My back screamed in agony as I sat down on the bottom step.
I touched my head. My fingers came away soaked in scarlet. I stood up and steadied my hand against the wall. I slid my feet toward the door. It swayed in the wind. Wind chimes shuddered wildly on the porch.
I braced both hands on either side of the doorframe before poking my head through. A low whistling sound whipped through the wraparound porch and into the house. I blinked my eyes to see, but the blood continued to pour. I wiped my face with my sleeve. My vision remained hazy.
I was on the porch now. The steps leading to the yard were three feet before me. I descended the first step, then the second. I was touching the third when I heard the scream. It sounded distant. Like someone was yelling through a long tunnel between different worlds.
The scream was faint and I ignored it. I needed to get out to save the others. It was the only way to help them. With each step, the pressure on my body grew. It was as though I was being squeezed with each stride. My lungs cried for oxygen. My head was pounding and my ears felt like they were going to burst.
I had both feet on the bottom step. The weight was overwhelming. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand before my body collapsed into a pile of stone. The scream came again from behind. This time it was louder. Something within me flickered to life.
I craned my neck backward. In that shift, my cheek grazed the exterior of the invisible vortex imprisoning us. In that split second, I could see the world outside and the world within. I stood transfixed between the two.
I could step right and be free or step left and be trapped with the others. But the yelling continued. Then I saw Peter standing at the door calling my name. His face was panicked. There was red all over his shirt and hands. Was that blood?
I turned to look upon the world outside, the real one, the one where we weren’t living a dream. I wanted to go to it. I wanted to be free of this nightmare, but something inside wouldn’t let me.
I climbed the steps one-by-one. Each step closer to the house lessened the burden on my shoulders and the noise in my ears. My hands clasped onto the side of the house. I was out of breath as though I had sprinted up a mountain, but it had only been a few steps.
Peter was saying something, but I couldn’t understand him. His mouth was moving but the words were lost to me. It wasn’t until I stepped inside the house that I could hear.
“Something’s wrong with Nico!” he shouted.
He sprinted toward the kitchen. My eyes followed him, but my body hung back. I leaned against the door for support. More loud voices permeated through the house from the kitchen.
I shuffled to the light. The rest of the house was suddenly dark. Only the kitchen shown bright. I made it to the kitchen to find the boys huddled around something on the floor. A wine bottle had shattered on the tile. Its red contents puddled along the floor.
&nb
sp; I pushed through my friends to see what they were looking at. My heart froze. It was Nico.
I crouched and held his head up. He chest was covered with blood. His eyes were bloodshot, and his lips oozed more blood as he coughed.
“What happened?” I asked.
“We don’t know. He just started coughing up blood,” Peter said.
Nico tried to speak. His lips quivered with each syllable.
“Don’t talk,” I said. “Someone get something to prop his head up. Henry, get some water!”
Henry filled a glass with tap water while Peter yanked the cooking towels from the oven and placed them under Nico’s head.
Henry handed me the glass. I held it to Nico’s lips. He managed to swallow a few gulps before his body keeled forward. His back convulsed as he vomited more blood. There was something else in the blood.
I picked up one of the pieces with my fingers and held it to my eyes. It was a tiny piece of glass.
“There’s glass in this,” I said.
Nico’s coughing worsened. More blood and broken pieces of glass poured out of his mouth. I racked my brain around to figure out what had happened. How was there glass in his body?
Henry was the one to solve it.
“The wine,” Henry said.
He held up the wine glass Nico had been drinking. He put it up to the ceiling light. There were tiny, seemingly invisible, pieces of glass floating in the liquid.
“Someone put glass in the wine,” Peter said. “Who would put glass in the wine?”
Peter clasped his head with his hands and started hyperventilating. Henry tried to comfort him. I couldn’t attend to my friend because of Nico. He was in serious shape.
“Is there a phone in the house?” I asked.
Max was curled up in the fetal position in the corner. Henry was patting Peter’s back, helping him with his inhaler. And Ian sat expressionless by my side.
“Ian, go find a phone and call the police,” I said.
He didn’t respond.
“Ian!”
