Der Erlkönig

Dare Two

I made it to the second landing without much problem (except for almost falling down the stairs when a particularly large gust of wind slammed a door somewhere below me), before surveying the story with a critical eye.

It was not as elaborate as the first story, but elaborate nonetheless, with lion heads adorning banisters and faded gold leaf painted into the spiraling designs on the walls. The first room I approached appeared to have been a guest bedroom, complete with a four poster, covers, a vanity with broken glass (which was funny, because I thought I saw a dark stain on the floor amidst the shattered pieces of the mirror, but when I looked back it was gone), and an enormous wardrobe that occupied an entire corner.

The second room was another bedroom about the same size as the first, the only differences being the colour scheme and arrangement of the furniture- and the small wisp of smoke that appeared at the foot of the bed and disappeared as quickly it had come. 

Dismissing the smoke as naught but a fragment of my imagination, I tried to play off the abnormality, although the encounter still left me with a pounding heart.

I had laid my hand on the third room's doorknob when I heard it. The faint sounds of a lone violin, playing with great vigour Paganini's Caprice 24- the hardest violin piece I'd ever played without faltering a sixth of the way through. The violin had come from above, on the third landing- which, quite frankly, I found a bit creepy due to the apparent thickness of the walls and the tendency of doors to slam in this house. Not to mention the strange tug that came from within me, a call to investigate the source.

What if it was the musician's ghost? 

Ah yes, welcome back teenager, why didn't you consider this before running? 

Despite the sudden belief in the supernatural, I still chose to follow the tug and quietly padded my way up to the third floor- when again, a door slammed.

As did my footsteps. Abandoning all sense of stealth, I bounded up the steps to the tempo of my heart, which had been thrown into overdrive. The heels of my boots clopped on the soft, rotting wood as I sprinted in the direction where the violin's sounds came, doors slamming in rapid succession from the second story even though there was no wind. 

I snatched the knob of the last room on the third story, flung the door wide open, and slammed it shut with a driving force called Fear. As I slid to the polished, mildly-scratched floor in complete and utter defeat, the violin, whose sweet, high melody had stopped when I entered, had resumed- this time more muffled and coming from, yet again, above.

Impossible! This place should only have three stories! Unless the damned violin's floating somewhere next to the ceiling it shouldn't be up there in yonder!

Which was about when I spotted the small panel on the adjacent wall. Its outline was barely visible, but still there, seeing as the wallpaper had peeled back from its edges. But should I go? It seemed as though the door-slamming had stopped- and the violin had changed into a melody I immediately recognised.

"Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?"

Who rides so late with the winds so wild?

"Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind."

It is the father grasping his child.

With a groan, I buried my face in my hands. At this point, I already knew that the assumption of supernatural absence had screwed me over; whoever and whatever it was above me and behind me must've really been conflicted.

Or really inept at making people go places.

Either way, there was a clear motive to force me to wherever the violin was- so I might as well go.

A glance at my watch told me that it was 23:30 of All Hallows' Eve, which meant that I had eight and a half hours left to go.

Sighing, I stood and made my way over to the not-so-hidden door, flung it open, and ascended the stairs to the attic of the house.