The Shaded

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

That infernal chanting showed no signs of stopping, or dulling down, at least. I could call back, and go through the same routine as I just did, but I was uncertain of what to do.

I guess Elaine had a surprise for me in the morning, and I honestly wasn't feeling doubtful about proceeding with it. Contemplating heading out the door or upstairs, I was being tugged by two hands from side to side.

I noticed a note lying on the dining room table that I had not detected before. It appeared familiar.

I unfolded it and read the bold print.

There it lies in the basement. In the mucky, white box. She murdered
those women. And I have proof, but what to consider? Many
have failed to confront her, but I know she fears me.
She fears she can't control me, and she's right.
But shall I flee with the rest or dare to put
a stop to it all? She fears a wandering
eye, and although I've come this
far, I'll confess to the desire
of disremembering the
the things I've seen.
She had
me
deceived
for this long. But I,
deluded by own self-indulgence,
appreciated the awe of locked doors rather
the acceptance of the present. The acceptance of
the NOW. For the greed of knowledge invites the treachery
of the future and the ambiguity it holds. I now share responsibility
for the destruction of my own fate. "The cure for boredom is curiosity. There
is no cure for curiosity." -Dorothy Parker. I wish myself luck as I now face the inevitable.

- The Messenger.

My eyes spotted the cellar door.

"Basement!" I shrieked to myself.

"No," I spoke to it.

It dragged me by my feet into the eternal basement of blackness with a flashlight it so obligingly selected for me.

The light didn't work, and the place was infested with webs of all kinds. Peculiar noises were arousing down there...all the clichés of a perfectly generic horror flick. Now, all that was missing was some thick-headed kid embarking on a mindless investigation...

I turned on my light source with exceedingly low expectations on the visibility improvement, but to my surprise, I could scope around the place without a single ounce of frustration. The flashlight could light a whole house up in the dark.

White box... white box...

All I had to do was find the stupid white box.

Boxes... there were tons. I quickly became lost in a sea of them, shortly enough. I had to find my way through for something I wasn't sure of looking for. There, in isolation, I found it... lying by itself...

There were other white boxes, of course, but this was different. It sort of stuck out. The whiteness of it struck me. It was more than incredibly unusual. I knew I had to check it out.

There was something sloppily written on top. I figured I could read it if I could focus the light on it more, and let myself plunge away in the darkness around me.

1999 Tragedy

The words made my eye sockets quiver. I ripped open the cardboard to find what was inside.

It was a film projector. And it was kind of convenient how I set it up that fast. I oddly remembered a short-term obsession my mother had over these, and she would ask me to prepare them for her but never allowed me to see what see was watching. I would ask her why she needed my help, and she would comment on how she was too overly exhilarated to set it up herself... whatever that crap meant.

The film could play on an open wall. The basement provided plenty of those...

Static. For the first minute or two, all there was was static. I could hear... what sounded like quiet murmurs, but I was unsure if it was coming from the film or...

Images began popping up, but still not capable for visibility. For one quick frame, I knew something showed, and kept showing.

Then, the static cut to an actual video. Black and white, of course, but that was not what caught my attention. There were about five woman or so in a living room. It appeared to be night, and the lights were cut off, except for the camera light beaming on them and around the room. It appeared to be our living room. Same red-striped rug. Same couch. And the women... the women were chained to the floor, blindfolds wrapped around their eyes, there was music playing, but it bothered me greatly. It was piano, but the keys were... off. It appeared to make no attempt for a smooth melody, as if the player were just slamming their head into the keyboard. At first, I had figured it for a silent film, but I could hear one of the women sobbing.

Then, the picture cut to static, and a boisterous noise burst on which drove my ears insane. The sound was more music. Not piano, though. It was a music box, but again, the tuning was off. I was listening to a broken music box. I struggled to find some way to turn it down, but failed. This went on for a minute.

Then, the video cut back on. Same women. Same living room. Now, I could hear more crying, but really, nothing else was different. I swore I could spot something in the corner of the room moving towards the camera, but it was extremely vague. It appeared to be something white.

Static returned once gain, and the ear-splitting music box came on. It was of no avail to try and stop it, so I just covered my ears until it vanished.

Video agian. Same background, but up in the corner, it was another woman, a woman in a silk nightgown, and she was... floating! I saw it right there! Her toes were OFF the ground by at least a few feet! For a while, she gazed at the camera, motionless. I couldn't detect a face. I mean, she had one, but from this point in the film, it looked to be one, enormous blur.

Static again. I protected my ears to the best of my abilities against the harsh, ambiguous tune.

Video. The woman was now moving, flying through thin air toward the camera. She situated herself behind one of the imprisoned ladies and bent downward. Her pale, claw-like hands latched onto the woman's beaten neck. She was screaming in agonizing pain, begging to be let free!

That's when... the floating lady... snapped the woman's jaw...

The video cut to static. The music didn't even perturb me anymore. I was utterly and irrevocably traumatized by what I just saw. I forced myself to delve in deeper, but wasn't sure if my rapid heartbeat could take the heat.

Video. There were two women now, lying dead on the carpet, necks and jaws twisted and smashed. The flying lady sauntered over towards the other ones. Now, the screen went black, but the audio, alas, did not. I could still hear that strident snap of the bone.

Static. Terrified. I couldn't stay but I couldn't peel my eyes from it.

Video. Now, all of those women were (presumably) dead. Some of their bodies were twitching on the ground. The lady in the white dress now levitated upward. She positioned herself to the center of the room and gawked at the camera. I, I didn't know how to depict it. I felt some sort of, energy as she gaped into my eyes. Then, it looked as if she started to, dance... It was very brief, but yes. I watched her sway her body back and forth over the scattered bodies and swish her toes merrily. Still no sign of a facial expression.

Static, or should I say it cut to a caption, and symbols flashed before my eyes. Some were familiar, but I could not recall why.

Video. Now, I saw the levitating lady sitting on the floor. There were men in white robes standing around her, fiery torches in their grasp brightly illuminating the whole house, gazing into the lens. This went on for about thirty seconds, before the film cut to black. The music box tune arrived once more, but at a much quieter tone. A caption appeared, and one symbol illuminated the cellar wall. It looked like the number eight, but turned on its side ~ some infinity symbol.

The film ended. I hastily demolished the projector, drying the tears from my eyes before they had the chance to droop onto my cheeks.