The Disappearing Ch. 2
We were left speechless in the ghostly bedroom. What did it mean: the clock was ticking? The note gave us chills. We had to make at least a semi-organized plan if we even had a chance of saving our friends.
We sat cross-legged on the cold, itchy carpet. Charlotte was the first to speak. “Didn’t you see what happened, there is no saving them. We shouldn’t have come here in the first place!” “And who’s fault is that,” I spat at her. Charlotte was the one who tried so hard to encourage us into coming in this haunted place. “Your saying we should just leave them here?” Autymn questioned. “There already dead”, Cameron protested. We were left there unable to find words to respond to that comment.
Francesca broke the silence that lasted a second to long. Her voice was quiet and shaking a little, “I think we should at least try to save them.” “I agree”, Autymn replied. This is why I enjoy Francesca’s and Autymn’s company the most. They never give up even when you can barely see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I nodded, considering the chance that we all make it out alive. “Good luck with that,” Cameron said sarcastically, while he and Charlotte lifted themselves off the floor and walked out of the pale bedroom, quickly past the door with rusted hinges, and out of our sight.
It was only me, Francesca and Autymn left in the bedroom. We decided to look around the room for anything that might help us. There was a dark maroon nightstand. The paint was fading revealing the wood underneath. On top of it was a lacey, off-white place mat, with a little lamp on top of it. The lampshade was covered in dust particles and the bulb was dead. There was dresser that was off-white with a dark blue placemat that matched the bed skirt. There was a closet that mainly had elegant dresses and pullover cardigans inside.
After all that searching, we couldn’t find anything helpful. We sat back down laying the two notes we had collected in front of us. “Do you think the first note meant that the person writing it needs help?” asked Francesca, “Maybe they thought if they took our friends, we could save them and our friends at the same time!” I speculated at that. After everything that had happened, and being one step away from a nervous breakdown, that anything might just be possible. It still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but at least it was a little bit sensible. Maybe.
“I-” when I got cut off by a shriek from the walls again. It sounded like something that could only exist in the underworld. It was enough to make your ears bleed and their drums burst. We were all startled and jumped up. The shriek only happens when it takes…someone. Cameron and Charlotte. We all thought the same thing.
We ran past the door and down the creaking stairs to see Cameron frozen still. Charlotte’s sandals were in front of him, which were positioned in a way that made it look like she was just about to open the door. “We can’t leave,” Cameron said quietly.
It looked as if he was staring holes right through the door, not looking at anything particular. It looked like he had just come back from war and he had the only beating heart left. The expression was pure defeat. There was another note on the sandals, “Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Come Play With Me”.
We were finally able to get a sentence out of Cameron. He told us that as soon as Charlotte’s hand touched the doorknob, there was a bright flash right in front of him then nothing. Charlette was gone followed by a shriek. He then agreed to help find our friends since there is no hope of getting past that door. He told us that it might be a good idea to explore more rooms in the house. We agreed with him.
The bathroom was the first room we explored. There was no flooring beside cold cement. The toilet looked and smelled very old. The sink smelt of deviled eggs with yellow goo bubbling from the drain. The sound of it was like someone squishing brains, like in one of those awful horror movies that give you nightmares for a week after. The sound was quite unsettling.
I turned my head to the bathtub. My jaw almost hit the floor. Across the white curtains there was red streaks across the bottom reaching up to about halfway. Autymn and Francesca walked over and peeled the curtain back making a rattling noise. Nothing.
There was a blue little rug that smelled of hospital mixed with a care home for elders. Next to it was only one thing, a bottle that read. Blood remover. “We should get out of here,” Francesca whispered.
I turned for the door which was left open from when we walked in. As soon as I stepped out, I felt a liquid hit my face. The smell I recognized a soon as it trickled down my forehead, to my nose. Blood. I looked up to see…