Vanessa, Tommy, and Mary all grew up in the small town, but Poe, he was the outsider. The son of the English Professor, and he didn't fit in. Tight jeans, his dark hair always hung in his face. When he pushed his hair back, his eyes were the shade o...
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Tommy was no pussy, but this time he had done it. Stuck his foot so far down his throat that the others would never let him live it down. Right now, he has two choices. Puss out or open the door. On the football field the tall muscular male was a force to be reckoned with. Today he was the only player on the field and the ball was on the other side.
"Shut the hell up. I'm not like you little bitches," Tommy nervously laughed.
The last thing he wanted to do was open that door, but if you talk a lot of shit then you better back it all up. Tommy placed his hand on the rusty old knob, not moving it at all. Shivering when what felt spider like sensations running up his spine. A little jiggle rattled the door, breathing easier when he noticed it was locked.
"I can't. It's locked, so whatever. Let's go," Tommy said, his voice deepening.
Smirking, Vanessa held up the keyring to the house. Not only were the front door keys on there, but about 8 small keys. One of them had to fit the ancient lock. They were not the normal kind. Each of them resembled the kind you would find for lock box, or well, the door in front of them. Shining the light on the tattered brass, the small numbers had worn off over the years. It would be trial and error, but she was willing to wait if it meant that Tommy would be panicked over it. She could tell the way he stiffened when she jiggled the keys that he was on the verge of pissing his pants.
"Wow, lucky me," Tommy snapped, grabbing the keyring.
His hand shook like a fiend as he looked at the keys. Maybe she was wrong and none of these would fit. All he really had was hope right now. Each of the keys seemed so rusted that they would break off in the lock anyway.
"Here goes nothing," Tommy stammered.
Wiggling the key into the lock, nothing. One down, 7 to go. Tommy was still scared, but he was closer to getting out of there unscathed than he was moments ago.
"Come on, Man. You're the tough guy. Try another," Poe laughed.
Growling with anger, Tommy pushed the second key into the hole, the lock still refusing to budge. His hopes growing, but he knew he wasn't out of danger yet. There were still 5 keys to go and one of them had to fit the lock.
"Man, these are too old. None of these are going to fit this piece of shit lock. Let's just move on and see what else there is here," Tommy said.
"Another!" Vanessa laughed. "We still have more keys and until we try them all, we're not moving!"
Tommy grumbled under his breath, and he forced the third into the lock. Turning slightly, it clicked. That was the key for the door and all he could think about was how to get the hell out of there before they forced him to open the door.
"Open, open, open," the three voices whispered. Poe, Mary, and Vanessa knew by the way his body stiffened that Tommy was about to shit his pants.
"Fucking shut up already. I got this," said Tommy.
Twisting the lock, the bolts screamed with pain. Years of sitting stagnant were crying out. A slight click of the lock, and a shoulder to the door allowed a gust of air to fill the hallway. The house was breathing again. Inch by inch, Tommy pushed as the frame rained down a shower of dust. If that wasn't enough, the smell alone burned his throat. Something was dead in there and had been for a very long time.
Covering his mouth quickly, Poe felt the urge to vomit the moment the door was opened. "What the hell is that smell? Tommy, did you crap your pants?" Poe asked.
Stepping back, all four of the group waited as though something would jump from the room and drag them to hell, but nothing. Not a sound came from inside the dark room. Just pitch darkness. Without warning, a mouse scurried from the room sending all four of the teens back again the wall. A small scream from Mary, a laugh from Vanessa, and curse words barked from the other two. A creature so small that it would blow away in a slight wind caused more trauma than if a ghost flew out.
"Who's the pussy now?" Tommy laughed, his eyes on Mary.
Shaking his head, Poe grew tired of the constant arguments between the two. Pushing his hair back, his blue hues trained on the darkness, he made the first move. A few steps towards the door, looking back at the others to see if they would follow. Of course, none of them moved. All waiting to see if he was the first one to go. A few more feet, and he crossed the threshold of the room, his eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness. Sure, he could turn the flashlight on, but did he want to see what was inside, or did he feel safer not knowing? He opted for darkness. He feared that less than the light.
"Are you babies going to stand there? Or have your balls dropped enough to follow me?" Poe asked.
All three waited, but never moved. Fear of the unknown is a powerful drug, and yet, Poe felt a sense of peace wash over him. Something in the house was alive or had been alive in the past. At 17, the boy named after the poet would find out why this place was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Was it to keep the world out, or to keep what roamed the hallways in? Maybe a little bit of both.
"Hello," a voice called, but the only one listening was the one it was intended for.
"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before." Edgar Allen Poe 1809 – 1849
