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Chapter 2 : Continuation

... OH MY GOD.

I see a dead, cold body. It's definitely the same girl. I turn her head towards myself. I am horrified to see her beautiful face melted, her hands charred her legs full of burns and bruises. I begin sobbing, "No, no, no." Her body begins fading and in no time I am touching plain air. 

I look around to see four rooms, all locked except one at the farther end. I make an effort to get up. I start walking towards the room. The wooden floor creaks beneath my feet. But. I don't think I am the only one walking upon this floor. I look behind me to see no one. I turn in front again and I hear the floor creak again. I try my best to ignore it and make my way to the room as fast as I can.

I enter the room. On par with the house, honestly this room looks the best. While the whole house is burnt down this by far is the only place that looks as good as new. The bed faces the door, an almirah by the side of it whose mirror shines as good as new. No windows as usual. A bathroom in another corner. At this moment it must be about 7 o'clock. I check my watch. It displays 6:30 on it. The time hasn't changed from last when I checked. That's strange.

Okay, this whole thing? Yeah I'm regretting it. Only if I had listened to my mum I could have been home having perfectly pan-seared piece of steak. I should call her and ask her to come help me out. I switch on my phone, but there's no way I can make calls from here or even text from the middle of the woods.

If I'm stuck here... for I don't know how long at least I've got to find a place to sleep for the night. I guess this is my only choice. But I have to get out of here as soon as possible. I walk outside and it isn't the same as what it was when I entered the room. The hall with three other locked rooms wasn't what it was anymore. All I see is a gallery with paintings. Paintings, paintings, paintings. Paintings everywhere, every inch, every corner, interrupted by a stacked books on a shelf ever 15 meters or so. If you are an art enthusiast, you would be enthralled by these paintings. I looked at each painting very closely, it's not among my ability to define them as Greek or Latin or whatever, but they do look european.

On the farther end of the room I notice a door. I raise my hopes and pick up my pace. I must say the gallery was quite a long walk. I slowly open the creaky door, it's another room, a bedroom. It's pretty much the same as the one I declared as mine a while ago, except for two arm chairs cornering a small wooden table with a gramophone elegantly placed on it. A record is fixed into it but looking at it's condition I guessed it wouldn't play anymore.

I walk around the room, nearing the bed I see the bedspread is ripped as though someone would have clutched it with their bare hands and torn it. Click. And the gramophone starts playing a tune. It might be a pleasant tune but something about it petrifies me. I gently walk towards it and attempt to stop it from playing. I turn back and begin walking. Click. I look back aghast. Did that just happen? Isn't the house creepy enough already and the record isn't making it any better. I stomp towards it feeling subdued, scared of a presence. I stop it from playing and turn back around. As soon as I lift my right foot, click. At this very instance I am extremely pissed off and displeased by the noise, which you might call music coming from the gramophone. I turn around in rage, bang foot against the ground, fetch the record out of it's place and snap it into two pieces. The crackle of it parting is more pleasing to my ears than anything else. 

The room begins to cast a shadow upon me, everything fading into darkness, turning pitch black... is this because I broke that stupid disc? Did I trigger it? I feel a tap on my shoulder from the back.

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Author's note:

Hope you like the story so far. Please do vote for it if you like it.

XOXO

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