MEREDITH RHOADS STEPPED OUT of the haunted catacombs and into a whole other world. She had been told the tunnels would lead to a grand temple of sorts, where her precious daughter and beloved sister would be waiting. James was close by, a third of her mission complete, but still had a ways to go to rescue the others. And so, when the world seemed to shift and stretch before she even reached the threshold of the tunnel mouth, nothing but confusion would greet her.
She turned back perplexed, expecting to see her comrades, her son and his friends right behind her as they had been but a moment ago, but nobody was there, and the mouth of the tunnel had seemingly vanished into the night air.
Had she fallen or stumbled and hit her head? Meredith wondered.
Did she somehow lose consciousness, awakening in a dreamscape she did not recognize?
Had Meredith caught a straight shot to the head, a death so quick she hadn't realized she was dead?
'James!' she called out, a haunting echo in her own voice as though she were standing inside a hollow pipe hinted that she had stepped into a different type of atmosphere.
The worried mother stared into a blood-red full moon hung high in the night sky, watching her like a predator with dripping teeth. The heels of her shoes clopped upon the glistening surface of cobblestone streets, noting the barricaded windows on the two-storey townhomes on either side of her. There wasn't a note of modern technology within view, not a single vehicle or electric power line in sight, the street lamps made of iron and lit with flames of gas rather than bulbs. It was as though she had stepped into a different time period altogether.
'What is this?' perplexed eyes frantically searched about, no sign of her son anywhere. 'James!'
Approaching a nearby intersection, Meredith looked downward where the road dipped to a full view of a large village, nestled amongst heavily-fogged forest and towering mountains, the skyline cut on all sides by their rigid grandeur. A river ran red at the base, splitting the town into two sections, joined by a single stone bridge. The crimson tinge of the water was mere reflection, she was positive, the light of the blood-like moon gently rippling upon the surface, but what truly disturbed her was the eerie silence of the large mountain town. Surely there would be someone awake, the occasional hoot of an owl—or barking of a dog even . . . any sign of life would have sufficed to remind her that she wasn't left in isolation.
'Where the hell am I?' she asked not expecting a reply, but received one regardless.
'Hamelin Germany.' replied a confident elderly voice.
Meredith turned with a startled jolt of her neck, as an old bearded man stood before her. He wore a draping cloak of shimmering white fabric, and a long woolly beard. Removing his oversized hood, wise eyes glimmered like emerald coins in shallow water, beneath a finely embroidered cap that mocked a perfect hairline of freshly shaven scalp beneath. In his withered grasp he held a strange, glowing staff, where ancient words beamed a sea turquoise from its enchanted core, it's tip weaved like solid oak wicker, where the source of the enchanting light formed an orb of strange magic.
'Who are you?' asked the bewildered mother, keeping her distance, unsure of his intent.
'I am but many of your ancestors, but most qualified to lead you down your intended path. You may call me Nicholas—or Nick if you'd prefer the modern variation.'
Meredith hesitantly reached an apprehensive hand forth, but the man merely glared at the gesture, as though shaking a hand was a foreign concept.
'Strange custom.' he rose a single brow, reached forth and shook a firm pump, but it took a moment for him to realize when to let go.
YOU ARE READING
Knock Three Times
HorrorWhatever you do, don't open the door! Recently separated wife and mother of two, Meredith Rhoads finds herself alone and without help when a stranger comes knocking at her apartment door in the middle of the night. She had not expected to see a c...
