Boy Behind The Locked Door-Chapter 3 short story
Posted: Tuesday, September 06, 2011
by Kellie Hastings
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Dark Family Secrets
The fresh aroma of colognes, flowers, and oils was overly strong congesting the entire second floor. And pleasing as it was, Louis had never inhaled such a diversity of odors from under the same roof. Joanne of course loved the combination of scents; she was use to it.
They wandered down the empty hallways, gaping at paintings of dreary landscape placed between portraits of old descendents. Some looked cold and mean; others looked troubled and lost. But one man in particular was unlike the rest characterizing authority and knowledge conveying slyness in his expression. His silver white hair was well groomed and slick.
Louis shivered at the very site of this man and backed away from the portrait.
“What is it,” she moaned, “what’s wrong?”
“Not sure, but this man is very creepy. Something in his eyes, I don’t like.
He shivered a second time before walking away.
The bedroom’s lavish décor was stunning, and Louis loved the way satin sheets and wool blankets dressed the four-poster beds. How delicate laced sheers hung behind red velvet curtains. Large washrooms decorated with expensive red linen and accessories displayed bottles of the finest perfume which rested upon elegant brass shelving.
With a heavy sigh, Louis moaned.
“There’s too much to see and not enough time. We’re going to the third floor.”
Joanne did not like that idea at all.
“That’s to far up for me,” she grumbled. If we’re caught, we have to run down two sets of stairs. I don't want to do that?
But compelled by his obsession Louis would not give in, not for anyone.
“I have to go up, I just have to. I’m not leaving until I check out the third floor.”
Go back if you want, it’s ok. I’m going to do this.”
She hesitated while he stood there anxious. She was wasting time, he thought.
“Well, are you coming or not?”
But the rooms on the third floor proved more interesting as they contained junk from the past and outdated furniture. He rummaged through with intense interest, browsing from one box to the next until something or someone disturbed him.
Ghost From The Past
“YOU’RE NOT TO BE UP HERE,” the voice scowled. She stood by the window with contempt in her evil frown, and scorn in her ruthless grin. She straightened her broad lapel as if preparing for battle. And her faded blue eyes widened with interest as Louis gazed up and screamed. She stood there enjoying his fear while waiting for Louis to calm down.
He couldn’t move he didn’t want to as if mesmerized by her penetrating stares.
But like her, he had heard the dull sound as well, the faint scratching of hollow wood, coming from behind the wall. And his sighs of relief were ignored as her eyes re-focused on the wall behind him.
Who was she, he wondered, where had she come from, and why was she here is this room?
He had never seen the dead before, never had an interest. But he also knew they couldn’t harm him either. He stared listlessly as his mind studied her. Dressed in a homely looking white gown of pearl and lace, her lucent gray hair hung forward in a twisted mass of knot.
Her face, withered from the passing of time was that of an old woman, an old woman who happened to be dead.
She lingered there by the window, hovering just above the floor. He said nothing hoping she’d fade away, but she didn’t as the dull scratching continued from behind the wall.
Louis turned around as her cold eyes glared past him at the thick wooden door which sat at the back of the room. Disturbed by its size he had never seen one so thick, so large. He focused on the two large bolts fixed firmly at the top and bottom; they were in the locked position.
Who was behind it, he wondered, whom or what? He glanced back at the old woman but she wasn’t there, she wasn’t there at all.
He sauntered towards the door with new interest while eyeing the large metal flap, centered between the bolts. Pausing, he heard nothing but the pounding of his own heart.
Lifting the flap, his prying eyes widened as the person inside suddenly lunged forward colliding with the door. Louis jumped back fearing the bolts would give way.
But the eerie silence that followed, assured him they were there for a reason, they had to be.
He moved forward once again eager for another look, and peering through the small opening the large four poster bed inside sat there stationary as the person who appeared to be injured laid there solemn with a blank look on his face. Louis knew there was something wrong with him.
Abnormal in more ways than one, his head was rather large in comparison to his short stocky body, and his pudgy round face looked like that of a child’s face, lacking a mother’s love.
With long blond hair, the sunlight from the outside gave it a golden tinge, and being messy, Louis assumed he didn’t comb it much.
He raised his head and stared with a pair of eyes Louis could not accept and he shuddered while his heart pounded against his small chest.
He had never met anyone with eyes just like his own, because his parents informed him he never would. A rare shade of blue, Louis’s eyes were so pale, they appeared almost white.
Many times people stopped and stared in disbelief, for the color of his hair was jet black.
A resembling curiosity troubled the person behind the door as well, and he gaped back in the same manner, tilting his head sideways.
“He’s locked up,” Louis whispered, “but why? He could only be what, fourteen?”
He sensed desperation in the boy’s voice as he cried out.
“HELP ME,” he begged. “PLEASE, YOU MUST HELP ME.”
“Oh God,” Louis mumbled, as he stepped back.
Fearing the old woman would return he glanced behind him but the room was empty. Compelled by this person’s desperate plea, he tried frantically to reach for the top bolt, but it was too high. He grabbed a stool, but was shocked to find it had been welded shut, along with the bolt at the bottom. He would have to tell him, he thought as he opened the flap.
“I can’t move them” he whined back. “They won’t move. They’ve been welded shut.”
Louis could see the anger grow on the boy’s distraught face, the kind of anger he wanted no part of. Terrified he closed the flap as the boy lunged towards the door a second time.
Have to get down to the first floor, he thought, where the people are, where it’s safe.
Hearing the disturbing cries of a droning voice Louis raced down to the safety of the second floor welcoming the chatter from down below. And gasping for air, he rested until the lumbering rhythm of a heavy foot entered the hallway. Louis held his breath.
Look for chapters 4 to 9 here on SearchWarp
It's been a pleasure sharing with you my fiction
Kellie Hastings copyright 2006
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