Fantasy Tales - Three Short Stories by Elle A. Rose
Page 8
haven’t gone far. They never do,” promises the doctor.
I fear if we speak, they will hear us, so I tap Cam on the shoulder and point across the room. There has to be another way out. He nods and we, hugging the dark crevices of the basement crawl along the wall. If it wasn’t for the size of the caldrons, I’m sure we would be spotted. When my arm brushes the outside of a pot, I bite back a cry. The skin sizzles and the muscle tense in protest, yet I keep moving. The nurse and doctor taunt us, calling for us to come out of our hiding spot. As we round the second wall, wrapped hands break through the darkness and yank Cam to the middle of the room. My best friend gives a muffled scream and I jump out of hiding ready to attack.
A mummy drags Cam towards the doctor and nurse. Both wear white masks over their mouths and the nurse jumps for joy as they near. No one has spotted me yet. Cam fights to be free, kicking and flaying about. His motions do nothing to slow the mummy’s gait. Going unnoticed, I release a thick bone from a cage that hangs overhead. It’s wet and smells of rotting flesh. I have no time to gag from the smell as I swing the bone, slamming it into the back of the mummy’s head. Cam falls to the ground and rolls to his side, avoiding being crushed by the mummy as he tumbles forward. In the corner, I see a white light and it looks like another set of stairs leading upwards. “Come on, this way.” The doctor and nurse charge as Cam springs to his feet. We hit the stairs and dash toward the light.
“Darn, we’ve lost them, Doctor,” echoes behind us.
Up we climb. One floor, then a second, but then again it’s hard to tell, there are no doors, nothing but the shining light at the top of the stairwell. Breathless, we reach the landing. Either the doctor, nurse, nor mummy breaches the staircase, or anyone else for that matter. A door with the number thirteen scratched into the wood greets us. Cam and I look at each other, then the door, and then back down the stairs. The bright light above us burst, sending shards of glass showering down on us. No discussion is needed as Cam turns the knob and we almost fall through the doorway. This hallway looks like the one on the first floor, except all of the doors have the number thirteen carved in them.
This time we go together to each door. Behind gateway number one, we find a weeping bride. Her white dress and veil both drip with red goo and a silver candlestick lays at her feet. She looks up and shrills, “Why didn’t he love me?”
We dare not enter that room and shut the door. At the next room, we can’t get the handle to twist.
“If it won’t open, I’m not going to push it,” says Cam as he moves on to the third entrance. Soft music flows from the other side of this barrier. It calls to me. My insides feel a pulling that I can’t ignore and I’m propelled forward. When the door creaks open, I enter, leaving my misgiving in the hallway. A blonde haired woman sits, playing a harp, singing a beautiful song. “This isn’t cool, Matt. Let’s go back,” says Cam and pulls on my shoulder. At the sound of our invasion, the blonde stops playing and spins to face us. Her eyes flash a crimson-red and her pouty lips pull into a sneer as the blonde hair falls to the floor revealing red-eyed snakes writhing on top of her head.
Snakes are Cam’s biggest fear. He whimpers, backing into the door. His movement causes the door to creak shut. The soft click of the latch sends Cam into even more of a panic.
“No, no, no,” he cries and jiggles the handle.
“Yes, my pets, we have company,” coos Medusa. More snakes slither from under furniture, and vents. The ones on top of her head hiss and spit venom.
“Matt, help me get the door open.” He places his foot on the door jam and pulls hard enough to yank the knob from the fixture. Cam tumbles to the ground, landing between the snakes and myself.
Medusa cackles and raises her hands over her head before saying, “Bring him to me, my pets.” On command, the snakes glide forward circling Cam. I reach to pull him back when a snake lunges toward me. While the creatures that corner my best friend rise to an attack pose, the others fan out creating an impenetrable line to cross.
“I want out! Let me out,” screams Cam. He pulls his knees to his chest and lets out a loud wail.
“Is this your wish?” From the far corner of the room, the genie has propped himself on a desk.
“Yes, I want out.”
“Then your wish is my command.”
“No! He doesn’t mean it.” My gut tells me this isn’t what he wants. This isn’t want anyone would want.
With a snap of his fingers, Medusa and her pets vanish. In their place, a barrier of fire soars, scraping the ceiling and further blocking me from Cam.
My arm shields my face from the heat as I try to brave the flames. “Cam, tell him no.” The room is filling with smoke and I choke.
“I can make you the same offer,” a voice from the fire says. Although my sight is becoming blurry, I believe I see what looks like the genie’s face dancing in the flames.
“Go to Hell,” I yell back and drop to my knees gagging.
“You have no idea,” he laughs. The barrier drops, and I spot Cam standing, stuck in a ring of fire. He stands motionless, staring at the wall. I push myself to my feet and step forward. To my left, the genie slides from the desk, and snaps his fingers. “Have it your way.” With that, the door behind me bangs open and a huge gust of wind sends me toppling into the hallway. I sail into the wall and slide to the ground. From where I sit, I watch with dread as the flames incasing Cam dissipate and the genie lures him to his side. The door slams shut and I jump to my feet. As I reach the entrance, the stupid knob on the first try falls to the floor.
Over and over I bang my fist on the door. My foot slams into the wood until my ankle aches, and still the gateway will not open. Around me, everything goes quiet. Too quiet. When the door across the way squeaks open and a green-faced creature dressed as a witch emerges, I know I must run. She walks with a slant, and drags her broom as a caveman would carry a club. Her crooked walk doesn’t slow her down and I dash into the closest room. I don’t think before I shut myself in what could be the next line of torture, but relief washes over me when I find stairs leading down. My steps echo in the stairwell as I take two steps at a time. On the last step, my heart thrashes in my chest as I peer through the opening. From here, it looks like the hallway Cam and I first ventured down. At the top of the stairs a low thump, thump, thump, bounces off the walls. The lighting is dim and I can only guess it is the witch following me.
On the count of three, I dash out the archway and race down the hall. Feet away from the atrium, a chainsaw buzzes. I fear who or what may be coming to block me in the hallway. Going on a whim, I run to the door I believe to be the drawing room. I barely get the door shut when heavy feet sulk by. I need to find somewhere to hide in case those creatures come in here. With a quick glance, I realize I may have picked the wrong room to look for a hiding place. The only thing that sits in this room is an easel. But when I look again I notice there is something drawn on the canvas. Could it really be that easy? Here all along, had I paid attention the first time I would have seen the drawing. A picture of a window with the word Exit, sits taunting me. On the top corner of the canvas, a green arrow points to the window behind the drawing.
Racing to the window, I pull, push, and yank the damn thing but it won’t budge. In complete frustration, I rip the canvas from the easel and slam it into the glass. Shards of glass flutter away like a bird whose cage door was left open. Cool air finally brushes my skin and pulls me to the opening. It’s pitch black out and I have no clue what I’m jumping into, but I don’t hesitate as I leap through the abyss. I soar for a moment before I smack something hard, ending my descent. Although it’s dark, my world spins and I find it hard to keep my eyes open.
“There’s no loitering, here,” huffs a deep voice. Is he talking to me? My head feels like someone drove a nail through it. “Keep it moving,” he barks and kicks my foot. I try to open my eyes, but someone is shining a bright light in my face. Rolling to my side, I inhale grass and dirt. “If you don’t get up, I’m taki
ng you in.”
“What?” I murmur. What is he talking about? Where am I? As I roll onto my back, I realize no one is shining a light in my eyes. It’s the sun. One at a time, my eyes slide open, straining to adjust to the bright light. Looming over me is a police officer. Now that I’m awake, he straightens and steps back. I rub my eyes and try to focus them again. I could swear he looks just like the leprechaun Cam thought was our substitute teacher. Cam, where is he? I look around trying to find him or figure out where I am. “Mr. Knox?” I venture. “Where am I? Where’s Cam?”
The cop glares at me and I wonder for a moment if I have head trauma. I’m sure his eyes flash red before he says, “If you’re not gone by the time I come back from my rounds, I’m taking you to the station.” I don’t speak as he storms away.
It takes me a moment to get to my feet. At this new viewpoint, I pinpoint the community park where I shoot hoops. From here, I can see my car parked across the way. In my hand is a small balled up sheet of paper. My heart leaps into my throat. It’s the ticket from the haunted house. Digging through my pocket, I search for the other ticket. I had both of them. I’m positive. Yet when I come up with nothing I can only scratch my head. As the sunlight catches the thin