Sep 2014
PART II
Sam woke the next morning after a bout of nightmares to the smell of bacon and eggs. His favorite. He bounded down the stairs, all but forgetting the events of the previous night. He bounded down the stairs and greeted his mother with a grin. She returned the favor, but there were heavy purple bags underneath her eyes. Like she’d either been beaten or hadn’t slept in weeks. “You okay, mom?” Sam asked as she forked him some breakfast onto a plate. “Just fine, dear. Why do you ask?” She beamed. She seemed happier than ever. “Why were you banging the cabinets shut last night? That scared me.” Sam said shakily. “What? What do you mean, baby?” she seemed confused. She didn’t know was what coming out of Sam’s mouth. Sam reiterated “Last night, about 3:30, you were banging all the cabinet doors shut as loudly as possible. I thought someone was breaking into our house. Don’t you have an explanation?”
She chewed her lip and thought hard for a moment. “I don’t remember that at all, Sammy. I went to bed shortly after you. I didn’t wake up all night.” Now Sam was really concerned. Is his mom becoming schizophrenic? Multiple personalities? He knew that loneliness had been eating at her, even he could see that. Not having a man in her life has really kept her down. She felt overused and underappreciated, and Sam feared it was taking a toll on her. “If you say so, ma.” This was so strange. He’d never seen her like this. He decided to explore the rest of the house to take his mind off of it.
After eating his breakfast and rinsing his plate, he rounded the corner of the kitchen. On the far wall was a door he’d never seen before. A cellar door. He approached it and noticed that the wood was afflicted with woodrot and the lock was rusted shut. But he’d be ****** before that stopped him. He kicked the door and put his foot right through the dampened pine. He pulled his foot out, rached his hand through the hole, and unlocked it from the other side.
He swung what was left of the door open. It pretty much shattered into splinters when he let it down. “How long has it been since anyone’s been down here? I don’t even think Mom knows this is here.” Sam thought to himself as he descended into the darkness. The concrete steps led to a dirt floor at the landing. Shelves all around. Sam couldn’t figure out what he was seeing. He was seeing specimens in glass jars, preserved. Small sharks, bits of plants and vegetables, a pig heart, seemingly all things you would find in a biology class or in the lab of a mad scientist. Beakers, mortars and pestles, bunson burners, and an operation table. He moved towards the table.He saw what appeared to be dried blood. There were embalming tools. Large scissors, pliers, a small hammer, a chisel and a collection of scalpels. These instruments had oil stained fingerprints, like the user was using Vaseline or something else slick like that. Could’ve been hair gel for all Sam knew. He looked up at the far wall, and the same message from yesterday was scribes there, only a little different. “YOU’RE BOTH GOING TO DIE HERE.” Sam was terrified. Peering ‘round the room, he saw nothing but the specimens. Hhis heart was beating fast. He felt that strange, cold feeling again. Suddenly, he heard a whisper. One that appeared to be sympathetic, pleading. It said in a raspy tone with the wisdom of experience. “Leave. Leave while you can. He’ll trap you here. The Master. Leave, run, now, boy!” He screamed and went upstairs. His mother was gone, out shopping. He ran into his living room and hid underneath a blanket until she arrived.
Sam woke the next morning after a bout of nightmares to the smell of bacon and eggs. His favorite. He bounded down the stairs, all but forgetting the events of the previous night. He bounded down the stairs and greeted his mother with a grin. She returned the favor, but there were heavy purple bags underneath her eyes. Like she’d either been beaten or hadn’t slept in weeks. “You okay, mom?” Sam asked as she forked him some breakfast onto a plate. “Just fine, dear. Why do you ask?” She beamed. She seemed happier than ever. “Why were you banging the cabinets shut last night? That scared me.” Sam said shakily. “What? What do you mean, baby?” she seemed confused. She didn’t know was what coming out of Sam’s mouth. Sam reiterated “Last night, about 3:30, you were banging all the cabinet doors shut as loudly as possible. I thought someone was breaking into our house. Don’t you have an explanation?”
She chewed her lip and thought hard for a moment. “I don’t remember that at all, Sammy. I went to bed shortly after you. I didn’t wake up all night.” Now Sam was really concerned. Is his mom becoming schizophrenic? Multiple personalities? He knew that loneliness had been eating at her, even he could see that. Not having a man in her life has really kept her down. She felt overused and underappreciated, and Sam feared it was taking a toll on her. “If you say so, ma.” This was so strange. He’d never seen her like this. He decided to explore the rest of the house to take his mind off of it.
After eating his breakfast and rinsing his plate, he rounded the corner of the kitchen. On the far wall was a door he’d never seen before. A cellar door. He approached it and noticed that the wood was afflicted with woodrot and the lock was rusted shut. But he’d be ****** before that stopped him. He kicked the door and put his foot right through the dampened pine. He pulled his foot out, rached his hand through the hole, and unlocked it from the other side.
He swung what was left of the door open. It pretty much shattered into splinters when he let it down. “How long has it been since anyone’s been down here? I don’t even think Mom knows this is here.” Sam thought to himself as he descended into the darkness. The concrete steps led to a dirt floor at the landing. Shelves all around. Sam couldn’t figure out what he was seeing. He was seeing specimens in glass jars, preserved. Small sharks, bits of plants and vegetables, a pig heart, seemingly all things you would find in a biology class or in the lab of a mad scientist. Beakers, mortars and pestles, bunson burners, and an operation table. He moved towards the table.He saw what appeared to be dried blood. There were embalming tools. Large scissors, pliers, a small hammer, a chisel and a collection of scalpels. These instruments had oil stained fingerprints, like the user was using Vaseline or something else slick like that. Could’ve been hair gel for all Sam knew. He looked up at the far wall, and the same message from yesterday was scribes there, only a little different. “YOU’RE BOTH GOING TO DIE HERE.” Sam was terrified. Peering ‘round the room, he saw nothing but the specimens. Hhis heart was beating fast. He felt that strange, cold feeling again. Suddenly, he heard a whisper. One that appeared to be sympathetic, pleading. It said in a raspy tone with the wisdom of experience. “Leave. Leave while you can. He’ll trap you here. The Master. Leave, run, now, boy!” He screamed and went upstairs. His mother was gone, out shopping. He ran into his living room and hid underneath a blanket until she arrived.
