As the third and final chime echoed through the hallway, a now familiar creaking sound could be heard from the upper floor.
Ben stayed close to his sister as they entered the room. Meek skulked behind them with his strange lurching gait. It was unendingly surreal. Ben had a hard time convincing himself that he should not be running from that creature. That any second, meek would snap his neck in his direction and scurry after them. In the film, Meek would be the monster that you either escaped from or your scream would echo out over the fade to black.
It was the image that stayed firmly in Ben's mind despite the fact that Meek was not chasing him. He was just hanging around as if their presence was entirely normal.
He looked down at his bandaged leg. Part of him felt ungrateful. Surely, he should consider the creature a friend for saving him from the serpent. It had been more than Sara had done. How many times had been told not to judge a book by its cover? Then again, this might not have been what they had in mind.
But who was he? Maligna always seemed in control, and yet here was this strange creature who just kind of existed in his Manor. Was he one of his monsters turned against him? Or a worse thought, was he someone who had been trapped here?
That really gave Ben the shivers.
Ben's feelings of unease were not helped by the room they had entered. It was a bedroom, but like so much of the Manor, it was not like any Ben had ever seen in real life. The room was quite big, but you would be forgiven for not realising that on account of the sheer volume of assorted oddities that filled it.
Beyond the Bed, there were several wardrobes, footlockers and chests of varying sizes but with even the smallest being large enough for Ben to squeeze into. Beyond that, the place was full of strange knick-knacks. There were a few musty taxidermies of ravens that lined the wall, posed forever at the moment of landing on their prey. There was a vanity that was covered in play jewellery, all tangled in a chaotic jumble. Then, most prominently of all, was a small silver box that sat on the bedside table.
"Look, here's the key," said Sara.
Ben had noticed it, too, but he was not nearly as excited. It had not been long enough ago they had so easily found the key in the bathroom, and it had only been the start of the game then.
"Be careful," he said, "Just maybe leave it for a minute."
"For what?" asked Sara.
"Well, something's going to happen when you touch the key," Said Ben, "We should try and prepare for it."
"I know something's going to happen when I turn the key," Said Sara, "I'm not stupid. But how can we prepare when we don't know what's going to happen."
"Well, maybe there's a clue," Said Ben, "If we look around the room a bit, then Maybe we'll find something."
"Sara's Right," Croaked Meek, "We have wasted enough time already."
Ben was about to argue, but Sara turned away and continued towards the small box. He said something. What it was, Ben could not have been sure even at the time. It had not been thought through and was only half out of his mouth when Sara touched the key.
I'm coming to get you. Ready or not?
A cold sensation spread through Ben's body like ice water. Those words had been in his head, but they had not been his thoughts. It was someone else, something else, that had for a brief second taken over his mind and thought with it. Ben felt sick, and from the expressions on the other's faces, he had not been the only one to feel it.
"What was that?" asked Sara.
"The key." croaked Meek.
Ben had been confused by that response until he noticed that the key had now begun to turn within the silver box. It was winding something.
"They're coming," croaked Meek, "We have to hide."
"Who's coming?" asked Sara.
"No Time," said Meek, "If it catches us... hide now!"
Sara shot off towards one of the many wardrobes and flung it open. It was lined with dusty fur coats that masked well the back of the wardrobe. She parted them and began slipping in behind them.
Meek flipped up atop a cabinet that was affixed high up on the wall with surprising grace. Opening it up, he somehow managed to contort his elongated body into the tiny space and quickly shut himself in.
Ben looked around the room. There were so many places he could fit, but that only made the decision harder. Where would he be safe? All it would take would be for one of these things to be opened, and then he would be found. Even if he wasn't, he would have to cram himself into a tiny dark space. How long would that be? Would he ever be safe to leave?
"Ben!" Shouted Sara.
She still hadn't closed the door on her wardrobe. Ben went to run but immediately stepped on his bad leg, and a shot of pain sent him to the ground. Sara came out of the wardrobe to try to help him get to his feet. Ben struggled up, but the pain of his injury mixed poorly with his trembling fear, and it took an excruciatingly long time to even bring him to his knees.
Sara made a glance to the wardrobe and then back to the music box. The key was still whirling faster and faster, each moment seeming to be the end before the speed somehow increased evermore.
"The bed," Sara said, "Try the bed."
Ben couldn't speak in reply. He tried to protest, but no thoughts came, and no words sputtered out of his mouth. Before he could really process things, Sara was pushing him towards the underside of the Bed as the whirring drone of the key pierced through the room.
Ben couldn't even try and cooperate. Everything was too much. The pain, the noise, his sister pushing him into the tight, dark space beneath the bed.
Ready or not, here I come.
Sara suddenly fled from him as he heard the door to the wardrobe slam behind him. In a sudden burst of panic, Ben shot under the bed, ignoring every other sensation in his body until he felt every inch of himself engulfed into the tight space.
The music box engaged, and a melancholy tune played throughout the room on tinkling keys. The door to the room slowly creaked open.
Ben's breath froze in his chest as he saw the train of a dress trail across the floor. In all his life, Ben had never felt more exposed. Even with the Bed above him and the duvet hanging down over the gap between the frame and floor, there was a good half a foot of open space.
Through it, he could see the hem of a white dress glide across the floor as the searcher examined the room. All Ben could do was lie there as still as he could manage and hope beyond hope that whatever was out there would not think to check in the most obvious hiding place.
He heard the searcher move behind him and trace their way across the wardrobes that lined the wall.
Sara was in one of those. Waiting like him with nothing but hope. With nothing left to him, Ben couldn't stop his mind as it raced towards what he hoped would be a plan. Some kind of action he could take to get a handle on this situation. Nothing came. Ben could do nothing but become increasingly despondent as his sheer powerlessness overwhelmed him.
Behind him, one of the wardrobes was flung open. He waited for the scream. Nothing. Was that a good sign or bad?
The searcher moved on, and Ben could hear them rifling through a set of draws before all noise stopped once again except for the twinkling tune of the music box.
Was it over? Ben could see the still open door, and nothing had left through it. Could he?
There was still something in this room. Ben couldn't see them anymore, but that made him no less convinced. He could make a run for it. Maybe that was what they were meant to do. Could it leave the room? Nothing else seemed able to. He could run and hide in the hallway or one of the other rooms. He would never be found there. He could hide until it was safe.
Even this deep into anxious despair, Ben found that darkly hilarious. He would never be safe. Not now, and maybe not ever.
All of a sudden, the searcher lurched onto the bed, causing the springs to stretch and squeal. The sudden shock made Ben let out a breath. It might have been nothing, but in the moment, it had felt like a scream. Ben clapped his hand to his mouth and did everything he could not to start crying.
The searcher had become still on the bed, and the springs came to a rest. Then they began squealing again as the form of the searcher shifted off onto the floor. The hem of the dress landed silently, not inches away from Ben's face.
It touched the floor and kept going, bunching up as the searcher began to bend down. Pale fingers slipped round the duvet and tightened over its edge. Ben felt his heart stop as the light of the room was uncovered, and the searcher continued to bend down towards him.
The waifish torso came sliding down, followed by shoulders, neck and then...
The eyes were the only thing Ben truly saw. There was a face, but Ben would never remember it. The image that would stay with him till the end of his days would be two wide eyes with sickly green fire staring directly through him.
It is difficult to say what Ben felt at that moment. It might well be the closest thing to death without truly passing over. To see your doom right in front of you with no way of stopping it. It was not a moment of acceptance. Ben was no more ready at that moment to face eternity than he had been at any point before. Instead, it was a kind of emotional oblivion. Ben could no longer feel his body. His mind, which before had never once been quiet, now contained nothing. All that existed in that moment was the eyes of the searcher and the twinkling refrain of the music box.
Then the music stopped.
The room fell silent, and Ben was certain that he was now, in fact, dead. That all that would ever be for him from that moment forth would be those eyes.
That was until those eyes slowly shifted away, and the pale fingers slipped down from the duvet. Neck, then shoulders and finally torso all disappeared above the small gap until all that was left was the hem of the white dress. Ben watched without seeing as it floated off out of the door and disappeared.
Ben remained in that strange living death for moments that stretched like hours before the real world came crashing back to him. As his still-living presence became too obvious to ignore, it brought with it more emotion than Ben had ever felt in his short life, and all he could do was cry.
It was how Sara found him when she had gained the courage to venture out of her wardrobe. She tried to coax him out from under the bed, but he was deaf and blind to the world. Sara had to crawl under and physically pull him out.
It wasn't difficult. Ben wasn't able to resist even if he wanted to. She brought him into a tight embrace, and Ben just kept crying. He might have continued indefinitely had not another person intervened.
Meek's hand reached out and took a hold of Ben's shoulder. Ben screamed and lashed out against it so violently that Sara had no choice but to let go.
Ben looked on that skeletal face, and, in his mind, there was no more confusion. Meek was out to get him. They were all out to get him.
"Ben," Said Sara, "It's okay..."
"You left me!" Ben screamed, rounding on his sister.
"No," stammered Sara, "No, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."
"You're supposed to take care of me, but you can't," said Ben, "Because you don't care about anyone but yourself."
"That's not true," said Sara.
"I told you not to touch the key," Said Ben, "I told you not to knock on the door, and I told you we shouldn't have left Tia Maggie's. But you never listen because you don't care. It's always about you."
Sara stood for a moment, opening her mouth without saying anything. She seemed close to tears herself, and normally, that might have made Ben relent and say how sorry he was and how wrong he was, but not this time. Ben was not a place for sympathy right now.
"I'm sorry," said Sara.
Her mouth kept moving as if there was more to come, but nothing did. Ben was still a wash with emotion, and his outburst had done little to help that. Without saying another word, he took off limping out of the room.
Sara impotently reached out a hand, but she didn't quite follow. There wasn't much left to say.
"Maggie," Meek croaked.
"What?" asked Sara.
Meek didn't look at her. In fact, Sara wouldn't have been sure if he was even listening had they not eventually replied.
"Tia Maggie?"
"It's aunt in Spanish," Said Sara, "Our aunt is Spanish, actually Venezuelan, she speaks Spanish. Ben's trying to learn Spanish because..."
Sara didn't finish the thought. She grabbed the key from the silver box and ran out of the room after her brother.
Alone in the room, Meek remained hunched by the Bed. Stuck there by thoughts he hadn't allowed into his mind for so many years.