Reapers - Thirteen Brothers

VI -Prediction (2 of 2)

I choked back a whimper. I was freaking out.

The computer screen which was the only source of light in the whole house. I could not breathe, much less scream in terror.

While I was reaching into my pockets for my inhaler, the lights in the kitchen turned on. A shrill static noise filled the air as if beckoning to me, just like the weird sounds I heard while spying on the Thomases' front yard.

It was hard to concentrate with all the horrible blood-curdling noises. It was like screws were being drilled on the back of my head. I managed to hobble toward the source of the sound, groping onto furniture to keep my balance.

At last, I reached the kitchen, panting. Cautiously, I peered from side of the door. To my relief, no one was there.

Nothing seemed amiss. Except that a cupboard was open. It was the same cupboard door that opened by itself when we first moved here; the same one that slammed shut when I didn't even remember opening it.

All of a sudden, it swung in and out with an eerie rhythmic groan that made my nape tingle.

Creak! Creak! Creak!

I covered my ears and closed my eyes.

"Stop... Stop. Stop!"

The cupboard door stopped moving.

I opened my eyes just as it opened invitingly. For some reason, it drew me with a compelling force.

Open.

As if I had been put into some sort of trance, I dropped my hands. I couldn't resist taking a look. With my breathing still ragged, I inched toward the cupboard and reached warily for the handle. I peeked through my right eye to see what was inside. I was cautious, ready to sprint like a lunatic just in case something (or someone) tried to snatch my hand (or my face).

It was dark inside the cupboard so I couldn't really see. Maybe a rat opened it—a huge mutant rat with rabies and saber tooth fangs that could turn invisible and type on a computer.

Hopefully, I scared it away. Hopefully.

There was no rat though. Just a pile of old utensils, years and years of grime and a gentle breeze coming from the inside.

I stopped. A breeze? Impossible.

I found myself feverishly taking out the old grimy aluminum baking pans, muffin tins, a rusty can opener and many others I didn't recognize from the cupboard. Each clanked as it hit the floor.

There was something inside. I was sure of it.

Once I emptied the space, I reached for the backside of the cupboard, feeling the wood with my hands until I discovered an indentation. It was about a foot square. There were hinges on top of it and three embossed images—a book and a chain on the sides, and a sickle at the top middle—arranged in a triangle.

Without even thinking, I traced the sickle with my fingers. With a soft click, the wooden flap swung in, revealing an ancient-looking safety box. Inside was an old silver chain necklace with the most brilliant teardrop-shaped diamond pendant I had ever seen in my life. Strangely, it reminded me of the eyes of the mysterious young boy I saw in front of the Thomases' last night. Along with the necklace was a leather-bound book. It had the same symbols as the secret box; a book, a chain and a sickle.

I didn't know what came over me. I don't usually take stuff that doesn't belong to me but I pocketed the necklace almost mechanically.

I flipped the old yellowing pages of the book gently so it wouldn't crumble in my trembling hands. My thoughts raced when I found out that it was an antique diary of some sort. What was peculiar about it was that the diary didn't belong to only one person. There were several logs under different names dating from the fifteen hundreds.