Missing

Chapter 7

My hand glided up the old rotted railing, I tried to spread my weight around; conscious that the stairs may collapse at any moment. As I finished my ascent up the stairs I stood with a dilemma, there had to be dozens of doors, going either way on a long hallway.  I went to the left the high ceilings were filled with abandon cobwebs, and mould way growing along the walls. How anybody could live here is beyond me.

About one third of the way down the hallway I spotted a door open just the slightest bit. There was light spilling from the door into the hall I creped through the dangling cobwebs, careful not to touch any; I have a morbid fear of spiders.

I placed my hand on the old rotted door and pushed gently, it swung open immediately crashing off its hinges, and it hit something behind itself.  I jumped in fright, tangling  myself in some disgusting cobwebs I screamed like no tomorrow. Thinking that the cobwebs were something sinister out to get me. My Screams echoed around the room and down the hall endlessly, finally freeing myself from the spidery tendrils I rushed into the room without thinking. What met my eyes inside I could never have imagined… There were rows of perfectly aligned seats that each held a child. The children were aged from eight to twelve and all held a huge amount of fear in their eyes. Every child was roped into a seat with no room to move at all. As I moved and approached the children a few of the closest ones struggled the ropes that bound them pressed deeply into their skin, and revealing skin that was plastered to the rope. I approached a child who looked to be the youngest in the group and began to untie the knot that held her captive.  

As soon as the rope was loose enough for her to slither out I moved onto the next child. There was nothing covering their mouths but they all chose to stay completely silent. I worked my way around the room, the children who were freed helped free others so my job became easier and easier.

When I had finally gotten every child free of their bindings and turned around all of the kids were facing me with confusion etched on their faces. I now had these kids to look after, and it made sense to me now that maybe these children produced the shrieks I heard before I entered this huge house. 

I approached the children who had formed a group there were about thirty to forty children here… And how had no one noticed their absence? I looked onto the bodies of those before me and I noticed the bruising and scarring taking place on their malnourished figures.

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could utter a single syllable, a child started singing.

“Silly, silly, Old man Billy,

Plays with children’s head.

When he’s done, with he’s fun,

He shoots them till their dead.

Silly, silly, Old man Billy,

His knife goes chop chop chop!

With every hack inside his shack,

He laughs with it nonstop

Silly, silly, Old man Billy,

It’s said he killed his wife.

Don’t go to his shed,

You’ll wind up dead,

Or at the mercy of his knife.”

By the end of this twisted song all of the children had started to sing along. Every line, every verse gave me shivers, these children knew all of these words, like they were etched into their brains like a catchy song might be. But this wasn’t a catchy song, this was horrible and it was too much of a coincidence for me to comprehend that after just recalling the song from my past that I had heard these children sing its verses.

Although the song and its words scarred me, I was chilled to the bone when I heard the last line of the song echo continuously through the house.

Or at the mercy of his knife.

And now I knew that the song held truth, if I had not seen the scars on the children’s bodies I would not have believed it but these children have been at the mercy of his knife.