The Beautiful Monsters

The Box

I wake up with a jolt. This felt almost too real. But it couldn't be, right? I mean, this place won't have a library. I got up and ran into the hall. It's dark. The giant grandfather clock downstairs strikes two am. I went to the door that I saw in my dream.

"How can this even be possible?" I think. "Okay. Okay. You saw the door when you came up stairs, but there is not going to be a library." I say softly to myself. "And if there is a library, it won't be that exact. There won't be a podium." I open the huge door.

I close my eyes and go in.

"What the..." I mumble. It's all here. The bookshelves. The window. The chairs. And the podium. But there is nothing on the podium. No book. I breathe a small sigh of relief. I go to the shelves of books and look at them. They are all so old, but well taken care of. Some of them are covered with gold ink. They stand out. I look to the window. It is wide, and the sill is a bench. The cushion is red, dark red like blood. Pillows of black and red. I sit down, and look outside. An oak tree, with swings. "Wait WHAT?!" I think. That can't be. And yet it is. A large oak tree, with swings hanging from it. There is a patch of green grass that stands out, even though I know it hasn't been disturbed in centuries. I need to know. Am I going crazy?

I grab a shovel from the basement. It is dark, and creepy, but I do not care right now. I need answers. Why am I having these dreams? What is it about this house? I run outside. It is dark, but a nearby streetlamp gives me enough illumination to find the spot. I plunge the shovel deep into the earth. I throw out bucket fulls of dirt and soil. The rough wooden handle of the shovel is giving me splinters, and blood is staining the wood. The sun is peeking above the treeline by the time I hit it. The box. Six feet by one foot by twelve inches. I know that without even looking at it. I stand next to it in the hole that I have dug, and look down into it. I need to get it up, out of the hole. I notice that a tree limb is above the hole, and the swing ropes are thick.

A few hours later, it's finally out. It's white pine, and held together with thick rope and chains. Nails of iron hold the lid tight. The coffin from my dreams. Here, in this yard. It's freaking me out. In the dreams, there was someone, something in this box, in this coffin. I need to open this. I grab the shovel, and slam the locks open. I rip at the knots in the ropes until my fingers are bleeding. I pry the lid off the top and...

There is a shriveled corpse inside. It's obviously female, long brown hair and a dirty white dress. She has unusually long teeth, and I notice that she has a knife wound in her chest. I don't know why I do it, but I lean forward to get a better look at her. I notice that some of my blood is dripping into the box. I try to pull my hand away, and some of it lands in her mouth. I try not to think of this as I stand up and grab my cell phone to call someone. The police? Perry? Laf? Danny? Danny! She'll try to help me. I punch in her number from memory, and I put it to my ear.

Ring!

"C'mon Danny..."

Ring!

I hear something behind me. It sounds like a bird soaring through the air.

Ring!

I turn around and look, but nothing is there. "Stop tripping yourself out Hollis." I tell myself.

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

You've reached the voicemail box of Danny Lawrence! I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave a message at the sound of the beep. THANKS!

"Damn." I hang up, seeing no point in leaving a voicemail. I look back to the box. "Holy Hufflepuff..."

It's empty.

How can it be empty? I just saw...

I feel it behind me before I see it. A shadow. I turn and I see her. The white dress. The long brown hair. The eyes, the teeth. The teeth. They are sharp. Very sharp. She looks at me, and I look back. Then she lunges for me, and sinks her teeth into my neck.

The last thing I remember is darkness.