Black Butterflies

Chapter 23: The Urn

Same day at The Bandits HQ

Nico

This is torture and boring and this is bullshit. Nothing to do in this house. Banshee Island? Why is called Banshee Island? Is it the home of wailing spirits before. Catchy, creepy and cool at the same time. I read about a lone island in the public library yesterday.

In the book it says that Banshee Island was once a place where an old wooden lighthouse stands. The lighthouse is so old it eventually collapsed under its own weight. But before it was a lighthouse island, it was a museum turned cemetery turned lighthouse turned farm turned private land. It is also rumored that urns ranging from the size of a locket to the size of a coffin were buried under the house. As a matter of fact, I'm walking down the basement now. There is a mini elevator that can be occupied by one person standing only but its to risky to use it as the doors doesn't close.

Reaching the last level of the basement I looked around the dimly light parking space. The battered Volkswagen my great grandfather owned is still there, rusty but still majestic. Ah, the WWI airship still looks good for flying but realizing it has no engine and I don't know how to fly aeroplanes, I abandoned the wish of playing aviator. I walked further down the narrow hall I came upon and found myself standing in front of a dead end. Sighing to myself, I randomly pressed on a loose stone which is part of the wall and it went in. I shrugged and turned around but as I started walking, I heard something slide open.

I turned back around and faced the stone wall. A secret door leads to a small, dark room which is illuminated only by the hanging lightbulb a meter from where I'm standing. Curiosity had the best of me which urged me to go in. I had a glimpse of a worn out jar's sillouhete before I heard someone going down the electric chair Ismael attached to the basement stairs for fun.

"Hey Mullins! You there?" I heard the familiar voice of CJ call out. I made a double take in going in.

"Uh, yeah!" I yelled back. To my surprise, he asked the same question again. "I'm here dude!"

I heard his footsteps descending up the stairs.

"Hey has anyone seen Nico fuckin Mullins!" He yelled as he went. That was weird, I thought. It took me a second to register what I'm doing in the basement until I heard a soft hum coming from the room behind me. Turning around, I saw green smoke forcing its way out of the jar earlier.

I walked in and felt the walls for a switch when the secret passage suddenly slid close. Horrified of the glowing green smoke oozing out the jar I found out is an urn, I sped to the stone wall and slammed my fists against it, screaming in agony and help as I did so. Tears rushed down my cheeks and my head throbbed. Eventually I slid myself against the wall and wrapped my hands around myself, staring at the dark and the smoke.

"Open the urn," a quiet yet raspy voice of a man suddenly said out of the darkness. I swear my eyes became bigger than an owl's or a tarsier's. I wrapped my hands around me tighter and pulled my legs closer to my body.

"Wh- who's there?" I asked after fifteen minutes of gaining enough courage. I swung my head from left to right and if hadn't cut it last week it definitely slapped me as I swung my head.

"Open the urn," the same voice said in a commanding tone. I looked up at where I think the urn sits and saw purple smoke glowing inside through the lid.