Beware Of The Dark

Chapter Twelve

      A few days passed by without hearing about another child disappearing. There was still no word about the other child. Just his name, Sean, and that his parents were in custody. They looked so normal but I remembered what someone once told me. That the normal-looking people were the scariest because you knew nothing of them.

      It was a chilly Friday and I was alone in the big house. Jared and his guys were starting the construction of the haunted house today. I wanted to go check it out but decided that I would be in the way.

     So, I put on a jacket and decided to explore the grounds. I had hours before the boys and Kayla were going to be home. As a kid, I remembered a small fenced-off area somewhere towards the back. I started walking that way with my music playing.

     I found it close to the woods and there were just a few markers. There were two small ones with lambs on the top. I opened the small gate to look closer. The stones were weathered that I could barely make out the names on them. "Maria and Thomas," I read out loud as I laid my hands on the lambs.

     There was another marker, not as ornate as the children's markers. I barely could see the name, so I took out my phone to take some pictures. A notification popped up saying that the last shot may be blurry. "How is that?" I asked myself as I took another picture. "I'm holding the damn phone still."

      As I stood there, I felt like someone was watching me from the woods. I pulled my coat tighter around me and started to walk to the house. It was a cloudy, overcast day with temperatures in the low fifties. Colorado weather, I thought as I entered the house.

     Corey had tried to message me and call me but I ignored his calls. I guess I should block him now since he's not getting the clue that I don't want anything to do with him. Normal guys would realize that they messed up and move on. But he wasn't a normal guy, far from it.

    I had the house to myself for a few hours. It was so quiet like a tomb as I made my way to the billiard room. I put on some music. Alicia Keys' came belting out as she sang about falling in and out of love. She has such a sultry voice, you can feel the emotions.

    As I stepped into the billiard room, I felt like I had stepped back into time. The large windows let in the sun. I ran my hand along the velvet of the table. My dad had once told me that he kept the items that his great-grandfather had in storage. This must be another item, considering the detailed work along the legs of the table.

    There was a large fireplace between two of the windows. I looked at some of the trophies that sat on the fireplace. My dad was an avid pool player, taking first or second in tournaments. As a child, he would teach me how to play pool. I looked around for the step stool that he would use for me. There it was, sitting in the corner waiting to be used again.

     As I was leaving, I heard what sounded like pool balls clinking. I turned around but there was no one there. The room got chilly despite that it had warmed up just a bit. I shivered as I closed the door.

     The ladies parlor was lighter than the billiard room. As I stepped in, I saw the furniture was set in a circle with a small wooden table in the middle. The fireplace was smaller here. A lot of the paintings had ladies in them. Women during the Victorian era were elegantly beautiful. The upholstery of the chairs and the small loveseat were a light shade of pink. It matched the small flowers on the wallpaper.

     As I stood there, I felt a wave of sadness. Something had happened here a long time ago. "The attic," I heard a female voice softly say and I spun around to see who spoke. I was the only one in the room.

     "I guess I'll go to the attic," I said as I closed the door. As I made my way up to the third floor, I started to think. I knew that something terrible happened here around one hundred years ago. This house was built for a young bride from New York. From what I know, she helped design the house.

     The attic door was stuck as I tried to open it. "Come on and open," I muttered breathing heavily as I pulled on the door. It came open suddenly, causing me to lose my balance. I stood there looking into the darkness. There were no windows along the staircase.

     I felt someone gently pushing me to move. There were still cobwebs and...achoo! And there was still dust. When I reached the top, I flipped the lights on. On my next trip to Walmart, I'm getting a dust mask.

     The edge of the attic was dark and I didn't want to go. It was like I knew that there was a second light switch and I found it. As that part of the attic lit up, I saw a lot of vintage furniture. There was a small lady's desk covered in dust. The drawers were tiny enough for a small notebook. Slowly I opened them for fear that they would break. There was nothing in them. "That was a dead end," I muttered as I turned to look at the boxes.

     As I walked to them, I heard a soft thud. I turned around and saw something lying on the floor. It was a journal, a fancy-looking one with gold lettering on the front. I could barely make out the name but I saw the name, Lucille.

    "I wonder," I mused out loud as I looked at the boxes. Faintly through the dust, I could read what was written on them. Photographs, a few of the boxes had photos. I gently picked up a box to carry downstairs with the journal.

     When I reached my sister's area, I was covered in dust. Achoo! Before I start looking, I'm going to get a shower. As I reached the main floor, I set the box in the dining room.

     After a hot shower, I  was ready to look through the photos. Though I wondered if Lucille was the one buried with no name. If she was, why? Why were her children buried with names? I knew that the answers were somewhere in either the boxes or in the journal