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"I
don't think it's rats, sonny", revealed the exterminator that
my father had called in earlier. "They
ain't going for the trap or the poison."
Ever
since we had bought this eerie house on the edge of a cemetery our
nights had been constantly invaded by the repetitive scratching
from down this corridor.
As
I stared out of the windows over the graveyard, watching the early
mist stirring and flowing around the graves, I pondered over exactly
what could be causing the unusual sounds.
I
turned to Matt, the exterminator. "What should we do?"
I asked. He pointed to an old bookcase. "Shift that. See what’s
behind it".
Come
to think of it, the scratches did seem to come from behind the bookcase.
So, mustering unearthly strength, Matt and myself moved the antique
along the wall.
To
our surprise, when we examined the uncovered wall, there was a door
there. Matt tried the handle. "Locked", he said.
That
night I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows
of clouds drifting eerily across it. "What is behind that door?"
I asked myself.
I had
little time to answer my question before I drifted off to sleep.
For a short time. I was awoken at the strike of midnight by a cold
draft lapping at my feet.
I sat
up with a start to see a light mist standing by my door. I reached
for my glasses, my hand ambling and knocking over my light, placing
them on the end of my nose. Slowly the mist sharpened.
The
fog had features, and without better knowledge, it resembled a young
girl. She was walking, no, floating towards me, carrying a box.
Swallowing
my fear, I plucked up courage to talk to the apparition. "W-What
do you want?" I stuttered. She stopped moving. "Peace"
was the only word she uttered before evaporating in front of me.
I could
not rest until I investigated. I slowly walked along the corridor,
warily and wearily scanning the graveyard for any movement.
I averted
my gaze over to the bookcase, bathed in moonlight. I walked to the
front of the bookcase, scanning the tomes.
My
examining finger came to rest on one titled "The Locked Door"
- a name that struck me as apt. I took out the dusty volume, blew
off the cobwebs and opened it.
To
my surprise it was hollowed out, with a key slotted in. I removed
the key and placed it in my sweaty palm. I slowly edged my way to
the door, and placed the antique key in the door, cautiously turning
it in the lock, which gave a satisfying click.
I opened
the door with hesitation, afraid of what may be inside.
My
heart was now beating too quickly. I looked behind the door and
realised how I was going to give the girl peace - By burying her
bones, which lay before me.
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