Choke

by Obert Skye

  It fit perfectly.

  The door clicked open and immediately a belch of air blew out. The belch was followed by the wind from the hall racing in. I shined my light in but all I could see was more darkness.

  I put the flashlight in my mouth and bent down to crawl in. I stood up and shined my light around.

  I was kind of disappointed.

  From what I could see it was just another room. There was a desk against one of the walls and a large mirror hanging near the right corner. I looked in the mirror and was surprised to see how scared I looked. Against the biggest wall there was an ornate fireplace with two cherub angels carved on the sides of it. The opening of the fireplace was almost big enough for me to stand up in. There was a regular-sized door near the mirror, but it was locked and boarded up. On the floor was a thick rug with a large woman wearing a crown stitched on it. On the sides of the rug there were a bunch of scarabs sewn around the edges.

  It seemed like just another boring room, but the way the wind drew through the open door and howled across the room made me think that there had to be another opening somewhere. I stood in the fireplace thinking the wind was just racing up the flue, but I couldn’t feel any wind. I used my flashlight to carefully examine the rest of the fireplace. I had seen so many movies where there was a secret button or switch to open up a hidden door in the fireplace, so I just kept feeling around for anything that might work. I even reluctantly poked the cherub’s behinds thinking that just maybe their rears were the trigger.

  They weren’t.

  As I was stepping around the side of the hearth, I could feel my foot hit something raised on the ground. I shined the light down and saw a small black tile that was slightly raised. I pressed my foot down and heard a click.

  I looked around thinking the fireplace had opened up. It hadn’t, but the mirror hanging near the corner was now glowing softly.

  I turned off my flashlight.

  The glow of the mirror was even stronger. I stood up and stepped over. The reflection on the mirror was gone and I could see a thin flight of stairs going up behind the glass. I reached out and grabbed the side of the mirror—it didn’t budge. I took hold of the other side and it moved just a bit. I crammed my fingers around the edge and pulled. The mirror slid open like a glass door. The wind was flowing like a mighty river now.

  “Whoa. I love this house.”

  The stairs behind the mirror were wooden and extremely narrow, barely wider than me. I stepped on the bottom stair and the wood creaked like a whistling monkey. The second step wasn’t as bad. I turned around and slid the mirror closed. It snapped back into place with a soft click.

  The mirror stopped glowing.

  I flipped my flashlight back on and directed the beam upward. The passageway was only about three feet wide and the stairs appeared to go ten steps higher and then turn to the right behind a corner wall. There were cobwebs everywhere and it smelled like dusty glue.

  I began to climb.

  Wait, I heard myself telling me.

  Thoughts began to slosh through my head like marbles being dropped down a waterslide. I thought about when I had found the basement and the sort of trouble it led to. I considered just going back to bed and pretending this was a dream. But I started to think about the look on my dad’s face when I had told him about the visitor with the sword. I thought about dragons. I thought about the book, The Grim Knot, and wondered if there was any reference to weird mirrors in it. I thought about just once being responsible enough to ask permission to go exploring mysterious stairs before I actually did.

  My thoughts settled at the bottom of my stomach, and, as usual, I ignored all the important ones and continued climbing.

  I stopped to shiver and then resumed my climb. Dust popped off the stairs and into my light as I walked. There were cobwebs stretching across my path. Normally I’m not a big fan of cobwebs, but these cobwebs actually made me feel better. It was sort of a confirmation that this secret passage had not been used in sometime, which meant nobody besides me was around.

  The stairs turned behind a wall and then ended. The passage was now long and level. I moved slowly, shining my light over every inch as I went. There was writing on the walls, but most of it looked like unreadable scribbles. There were a few words I could read. I saw the word “Time” and a large “Tell them.”

  Farther down the passageway was another mirror. I couldn’t move it, but the beam from my flashlight went through it, letting me see the room behind. It looked like the room I had just been in, but there was no fireplace. I pushed up against the glass and could easily see every bit of the room.

  I made a mental note: never change in front of mirrors anymore.

  I turned from the mirror and continued down the passageway. After about twenty feet more there was a spiral staircase. The steps were so narrow that I had to turn sideways to climb up them. At the top there was another passageway that forked in two directions. I took the one on the left and accidentally stepped right through a huge spider web. I spent the next couple of minutes dancing around in a panic, trying to peel the webbing off.

  Once I was relatively web-free, I kept moving. I was considering turning around before I got lost, when I reached the end of the skinny passageway and looked down. I appeared to be standing at the top of a wooden slide. I shined my flashlight, but the beam of light didn’t reach far enough to see where the slide ended. It was narrow, steep, and tight, and looked like it raced down at least three floors.

  I should have thought about it. I should have taken a moment to think things out. After all, that’s what a rational, straight-thinking person would do. Instead I jumped down, held my arms up and slid.

  Illustration from page 8 of The Grim Knot

  CHAPTER 6

  In Just Seven Days

  I was moving so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up with my rapidly collapsing stomach. On most slides you simply climb up some stairs or steps, then slide down a metal or plastic surface, and arrive at a flat ending. Then you stand up, comment on how fast or slow you just went, and then do it again. The slide I was flying down, however, was nothing like that. This slide was made of wood and slicker than anything I had ever been on. I felt like a bar of wet soap slipping down a glass hill.

  I tried to shine my flashlight in front of me but I was so busy flailing my arms that I couldn’t get a clear glimpse of what was coming. The slide twisted and suddenly I was flying sideways and dropping fast.

  The slide straightened out and then dipped, bouncing me up two feet and then slamming me back down. The passageway was so tight, my shoulders kept hitting the walls as I raced. I could see wood beams in front of me stretching across the

  passageway. My head smacked the bottom of one. I threw my body back and zipped under the rest of the wood beams. The light from my flashlight flew back and forth like a spastic spotlight.

  I could see rats climbing on the wood beams. One fell from above and smacked me in the face. I screamed and reacted poorly by throwing my flashlight at it. It was a dumb move, now I couldn’t see anything.

  The slide turned sharply again and I scraped against the wall as I bounced around it. After two more dips and a short spiral, it began to level out. My body slowed and I came to a complete stop.

  I lay there trying to catch my breath and patting myself all over to feel if I was okay. It felt like my arms and legs were still on, and I couldn’t feel any bleeding. But I was covered in cobwebs that clung to my fingers as I tried to pull them off.

  I had no idea where I was.

  I sat up carefully. It was pretty obvious why nobody had used the death slide in awhile. I scooted my legs off the side of the slide and was happy to find solid ground. I eased myself up and put my arms out in front of me to feel my way forward. Within two steps I had reached a wall. I slid my hands along the cold stone surface feeling for any sort of light switch or door.

  I could find neither.

  I was about to bravely scream for help when the sound of a match
being struck scratched behind me. Every hair on my neck stood up and froze. A soft glow filled the room and I spun quickly, throwing my hands up to protect myself from whatever it was. When nothing assaulted me, I slowly put my arms down and gazed at the light.

  “You!”

  The old, pale man with the sword was standing there holding a lit candle and staring right at me. The light glowing up into his shadowy face made him look like an ancient Boy Scout about to tell a ghost story. That wasn’t really necessary, seeing how I was already completely spooked. We were standing in a narrow room with a brick floor and stone walls. I could see the end of the slide and there was a tiny table in the opposite corner behind the old man. I could also see a ladder on the wall.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked nervously, stepping back.

  Whitey hung his head and shook it slowly. He looked like someone who had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

  “I don’t understand,” I huffed. “Who are you?”

  “There isn’t time for questions,” he insisted.

  It was just like a grown-up to say something like that. In the time it had taken for him to say that he could have just answered my question.

  “You must listen,” he continued.

  I nodded, slowly looking around for some way to escape.

  “Where’s that stone?” he asked.

  “I thought you said there’s no time for questions.”

  He moved one step closer and growled, “Listen, Beck, I am ill at ease.”

  “Maybe you need some sun,” I offered kindly.

  “I must know where that stone is.”

  “I destroyed it.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “Well, it’s gone.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I really don’t,” I said honestly, trying to back up as far as I could.

  “In seven days it will be too late and that stone will hatch, regardless of where you have put it.”

  “How . . . ?”

  “Listen,” he interrupted. “It will produce a queen. And you must tend it or it’ll be a perverted mess of a dragon with a mind of its own and no way to stop it.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is,” he said, his chin quivered in the

  candlelight. “You’re the only one who can hatch it and destroy it.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You have the book,” he insisted.

  “The Grim Knot?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ve already read it,” I informed him.

  “I’ve heard there’s more to it than words.”

  “I don’t even . . .”

  “Stop,” he snapped. “You have started the ending by bringing those dragons to life, but now you have to finish it. You must plant it within seven days or she will destroy everything.”

  “She?”

  “The queen,” he growled impatiently. “Find the stone, nurture it as it grows, and then destroy her when she is born.”

  My mind was racing as fast as my body had been while falling down the slide. None of my thoughts made sense and I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know who to believe. I had trusted Milo and he had turned out to be an old creepy magician. How did I know that this old man wasn’t just someone weird in disguise? Maybe he was like the opposite of Milo. Instead of coming to me friendly-looking and turning ugly, he had started off ugly and mean but was going to turn friendly and then be nice to me.

  Like I said, none of my thoughts made sense.

  “In the hospital you said the dirt would turn on me,” I reminded him.

  “You have neglected your task. You’re a Pillage. The soil’s angry,” he explained.

  “Really?”

  I couldn’t see him clearly because of the way the candle-light was flickering, but I think he nodded.

  “The stones must be stored properly or the soil will ruin them,” he said hotly. “You didn’t take care of the stone.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “How foolish your father has been.”

  I didn’t like him talking about my father that way so I changed the subject. “I still don’t understand why you’re here. And what are these passages?”

  “I was coming to see you,” he insisted. “As for the passages, ask your father.”

  The old man pushed on the wall behind him. A part of the wall moved back and opened like a door. I could see and hear the outdoors. The old guy now looked nervous and shaky.

  “So, you’re a Pillage?” I asked, thinking he had to be related.

  “Find the stone,” he insisted, ignoring me. “Tend it properly and then destroy her when she is born.”

  “I can’t find . . .”

  “You must,” he roared. “If not, in seven days it will be too late.”

  “Even if I could find the stone, where do I take care of it?” I argued. “Half of the conservatory is knocked down, and I’ve seen people hike through just to take a peek.”

  Whitey was silent.

  “People are always trying to take pictures of the conservatory,” I added. “There’s not as many curious weirdos as there used to be, but I can’t risk it.”

  “Interesting,” he said. “Then look behind the garage.”

  “Where?”

  “Behind the garage,” he barked.

  “Sorry,” I said, taken back by his bark. “Do you know there’s nothing but trees behind the garage?”

  “Look down,” he said nervously.

  I looked at the floor.

  “Not in here,” he scolded. “Behind the garage. You’ll find what you should follow.”

  “I . . .”

  “You listen,” he said hoarsely. “I’m taking a great risk coming here, but you’re taking a far greater risk abandoning that stone.”

  “My father’s said nothing about stones growing by themselves.”

  “Your father knows nothing of dragons,” Whitey said. “He has chosen to hide himself instead of participate. His ignorance is self-inflicted and may be the ruin of us all.”

  “Don’t . . .”

  He interrupted me again. “You have seven days.”

  “Okay, okay. Starting now?” I asked. “And does that mean exactly seven days, or is it sort of an estimate?”

  “This is no joke,” he insisted. “Seven days.”

  I was going to say more, but the old man pinched out the flame on the candle and slipped out the open wall. It was dark, but the moonlight outdoors was spilling in, making it possible to see the outline of things. I could hear the sound of falling water. I stepped though the door and was surprised to find myself in the courtyard near the twisted snake statue. I looked at the wall I had just come through and carefully pushed it closed. Once it was shut it was impossible to tell it was there. The patterns of the stone hid any trace. I looked across the courtyard to where the back door was and marveled over this secret place being there all along.

  “Who designed this place?” I whispered.

  I looked up at the gargoyles hanging off the top floor, but they didn’t answer me. I walked over to the back door and made my way up to my father’s room. I had a few things that I needed to ask him.

  When I got to the top floor and knocked on his door, there was no answer. I knocked louder but there was still no reply. I pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The windows were open, and a soft wind was blowing around. The light switch didn’t work but I could see the outline of the few pieces of furniture.

  “Dad,” I called.

  No reply.

  “Dad.”

  I was alone. I climbed down the stairs to the floor below but there was still no sign of my dad. I sat down in a large wingback chair to wait for my father to come back. I was a little worried, but more than that, I was a lot intrigued.

  Illustration from page 9 of The Grim Knot

  CHAPTER 7


  Don’t Lose Your Head

  I was having a vision about finally getting a cell phone when the sound of bells began ringing in my head. My mind tried to focus on the noise, but I couldn’t make sense of it. I shifted in the chair, and my butt slid forward, causing my whole body to slip out of the wingback and fall to the floor. The right side of my head smacked the wood floor, and a new kind of ringing bounced between my ears and behind my eyes.

  I blinked and moaned simultaneously.

  The original ringing grew louder and more obnoxious. I rolled over and pushed myself up. I now recognized the sound of the bells Millie and Wane used to summon people in the manor. The home was so massive that there was a system of bells to call certain people. The bells were located all over the manor, and they were activated in the kitchen. There were probably thirty of them. One bell rang the other kitchen, one rang the dome at the top of the house, one rang Thomas, one rang Wane, one rang the main library, one rang the banquet hall, one rang my room, etc, etc. . . . Whenever I didn’t respond to the one in my room Millie would ring all the bells hoping I would hear at least one of them.

  “I’m coming!” I yelled, knowing she couldn’t hear me.

  The bells kept ringing as I stood up and tried to get my wits about me.

  “I’m coming! Stop ringing those stupid bells!”

  They didn’t stop. I climbed down all the floors and finally made it to the kitchen. Millie was there pulling the bell strings as quickly as she could.

  “I’m here!” I yelled.

  She stopped pulling and turned to look at me. Her expression was not friendly.

  “Where were you?” she demanded.

  “Sleeping.”

  “I rang your room.”

  “I wasn’t there,” I pointed out. “I went to talk to my father last night but he wasn’t there. I guess I fell asleep in a chair waiting for him.”

  “He’s not here,” she said.

  I wondered if anyone ever really heard me. “I know.”

  “He’s gone,” she said in a huff.

  “I know,” I said again.

  “There’s a note,” Millie said, sounding like someone who had just found a new mole on their nose. She handed me a yellow piece of paper that was ripped along the top edge. There were only ten words. “I have gone after something important. Keep Beck here! Aeron.” I read the ten words and looked at Millie.