1I sat on my wooden stool and leaned far to the left, peering out from behind a dusty wooden amour I was repairing. The cheap K-Mart clock that hung over various dismantled chairs and warped nightstands read four-thirty in the evening. The bells on the door jingled in a melancholy manner; a customer had walked in the store with brisk footsteps. Immediately, I stood, welcomed them, and introduced myself. She told me she was just browsing. I returned to my stool and continued my project, nails and hammer in hand. As I stretched my arms in the air, a little girl appeared behind the large windows facing the street. She seemed to be staring at me, as if she recognized me. She disappeared as soon as she appeared. I shrugged off the goosebumps she had given me and continued on with my tasks.
I had almost nailed a new back onto the amour when it reached five in the evening. Two or three grandfather clocks, as well as a cuckoo clock or two that I had presumed defunct went off, disrupting my intense concentration. The ruckus ceased, and I had almost nailed the last nail, when without warning, the hundred-watt bulb hanging above my head burnt out.
"Damn." I mumbled, standing up and walking toward the supply closet in the back of the shop. As soon as my hand touched the knob, the black phone on the counter in the front of the shop rang it's shrill, sharp moan. I contemplated putting the phone lower on my list of priorities, I caved in to my entrepreneur side. I needed the money. The caller ID read "Private Number."
"Hello, Ballard's Antiques, Dawn Ballard speaking." I recited. My introduction had become second nature, after the countless times I've had to repeat it. "How may I help you?"
"Yes, this is Denise Richardson. I'm a relator with Pivot Real Estate. I'm calling in order to request your presence at an appraisal of an old downtown warehouse. We've been told that it contains numerous items from the late eighteen-hundreds to the early nineteen-hundreds." This girl wouldn't let me get a word in; she was determined. I felt mildly uneasy, though, as I had never heard of Pivot Real Estate, and I've lived in this city for my entire life.
"Is this paying?" I responded, her business-like attitude sounded like an easy appraisal. In other words – this weeks' meals.
"Yes, but it's very short notice. We need you at the location within the hour. Your pay is up to $200 per item, excluding duplicate times. There are no more than twenty items." She said, sounding patient..
"I'll gladly accept." I told her, deep curiosity welling up inside me.. New finds can bring in wealth, something I was lacking in.
"Could you meet us at the intersection of West Market and Broad in a hour. I'll be dressed in a light blue shirt with black pants. My client will also be attending the appraisal this evening." She informed me. I assumed she was a newbie on the court of the realty.
"Sure, I can make it in an hour." I replied.
"Thank you, thank you so much. I'll meet you in an hour. Thanks again."
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I had forty-five minutes to finish whatever I was doing and close up the shop, and fifteen minutes to get to my rendezvous spot. Over the next thirty minutes, I finished the amour, sanded it, and covered it with a blanket, just in case. Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, I gathered my belongings, stuffed them inside my car in the alley, locked up shop, and started my walk toward Broad Avenue.
The sky above me was gray and unforgiving, and the clouds hung low, swirling like a potion in a witch's cauldron. My heels clicked over the sound of traffic as I crossed street after street.
There she was across the street, looking at me. That little girl. The wind picked up and tossed her hair violently. Coincidence? Maybe. It could have been. She had certainly taken an interest in me. I suddenly realized I had been so preoccupied I missed my turn. I backtracked and dodged a sleek black Honda and a bulky baby stroller to get back across the street to the sidewalk. I walked a bit more, and stood at the corner of West Market and Broad. Car's flew by on the road in front of me. Two women approached me from behind.
"Ms. Ballard?" A lady in a blue shirt asked. It was the women I had talked to on the phone earlier. She was young, with a light complexion and dark hair framing her face. She looked to be no younger than twenty-five and possible Middle-Eastern.
"Yes. Denise Richardson?" I questioned. It's dangerous to assume anything in this world, I'd learned that many times over.
"Yes. It's nice to meet you. This is Drew Estralla, my client. She's an owner of a restoring business a mile or two north of here." I extended my hand and shook with both women, greeting them.
"So, where are the items you want me to appraise?" Both the women glanced at each other for a fleeting second, and they informed me of where we were going. Our destination was two blocks down from where we were. I still don't understand why we didn't just meet there.
We reached the desolate building as it neared five-fifty-five. I looked up, and examined the building with a scrutinizing eye. There was no way there would be anything of value, historical or money-wise, in that empty warehouse. That's when I was told I was facing the wrong way, and that the items in question were located in the building overgrown with ivy, across the street from us. The reason we met away from the building became instantly apparent. I winced when a memory rushed back to me, and the news reports ran vivid in my mind.
News television stations across the United States ran the words "Girl Killed at Christian Boarding School." A little girl, around nine or ten had been getting ready to go to sleep for the night. The last time she was seen was walking back to her room. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, her roommate was gone for the week somewhere down south. A group of girls got up the next morning and ran into her room, carrying balloons and presents, only to find her laying on her bed, neck twisted in an unnatural position, naked. She died the night before her birthday. As the girl's parents drove up to the school, they saw police cars and an ambulance. The daughter was raped, tortured, her neck twisted till it cracked, then stabbed. In that order. The case turned out cold after months of investigations. Eventually, it fell into the oblivion of murders never solved and never to be thought of again. I shuddered at the clarity of the reports. Years later, several other killings of the same type were committed. The police shrugged them off as a copycat murderer. This all happened during my teens.
"Isn't that where-" I started to ask, but was interrupted.
"You understand why we didn't just meet here, I hope.." Said Drew.
The school had closed after the murders. A bitter solemn fell between us. Uneasiness was accompanying us. We didn't speak as we walked across the street, suddenly empty. We faced the building as it's four stories towered over us. Looming, waiting. It felt like the place was holding in its breath, or keeping a secret. The faint lines of the title of the school was surrounded by sun bleached paint. Denise had been unlocking the various locks on the main entrance as I stood taking in my surroundings. The door clicked and swung open with a chest-vibrating scree. Denise and I followed Drew as she talked.
"I've been put in charge to renovate this building. There's furniture left in many of the upstairs rooms, and it seems to be of value. I contacted the local museum to see if they wanted it for a collection of theirs, and they asked for authentication, which is why I called you both. Of course, you two will be paid, do not worry." She took a breath and led us up some stairs.
"Hehehaha!" A little girls laughter resonated from upstairs. The other two seemed not to have heard it.
"Did you hear anything?" I asked, good bumps rising on my skin. This scenario felt like the very overused and stereotypical haunted house scene in every horror movie.
"No, I didn't hear anything." Denise said. Drew acknowledged her with a "Uh huh" sound. We continued up the stairs and as we reached the top, we paused, as if waiting for something to pass.
"Room 200, the end of the hall to the left. That's where I found the most furniture." Said Drew. Walking toward the end of the left hallway, I heard the laughter again. I spun around just fast enough to see a door move open, just slightly. We continued down the hallway and I continually glanced over my shoulder, as I was in the back of the group, and the caboose always gets "it" first. I shook it off as my childish sense of fear getting to me. The walk down the hall was filled with the creaks and moans of the house's elderly floorboards. We reached the room.
Honestly, the appraisal was a piece of cake. I snapped into my historian/antique expert mode, and came to a conclusion that it was a piece of furniture with only two-hundred of its kind floating around the world. We examined a few other rooms in the same wing, and came to the same conclusion.
I was the first to walk out of the last room, and out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. Muffled laughter. I noticed it had gotten significantly darker outside. I would guess that we had twenty minutes till we had to get out, for the building lacked electricity, and we lacked light sources. Adrenaline rushed, and the only thought running through my head was to check out what was afoot, even though I did have a bad feeling about it.
"Excuse me, but you don't mind if we go look at some rooms over in the other wing?" I asked, and as I did, I felt Denise and Drew tense up.
"Well, I'm not sure there's anything in the rooms, and I'm sure it's unnecessary." She said, nervously.
"It will only take a second. Here, Let's check this one out." I hid my fear well. Denise followed Drew and I reluctantly. The door whined as I lightly pushed it open.
The room I faced contained a bed frame, a dresser, and a small open window. We all entered the room. The door shut behind us with a small clatter and the curtains around the window frolicked from side to side. Dismissing it as the wind, we opened the door all the way and continued to examine the contents of the desolate room. Drew and I stood over the bed commenting on the style. Now, even though it had only closed down twenty-five years ago, the furniture was from the early eighteen-hundreds, typical of a poorly-funded anything in the center of the city.
We were really engrossed in the dresser sitting in the corner. Denise had loosened up, and I had almost forgotten about the laughter.
"BSHLAM!" The door and window had suddenly closed, making us jump and clearing us of our distractions. The air became cold and smelled like a stagnant pond. A violent red light shone through the floorboards as the wind picked up. All of our hair whipped around along with our notes and papers. It soon became semi-hurricane force winds in the room. We desperately tried to open the door with no yield. panicking, we ran to the window beside the bed. The floor was pulsating with vibrations and a red glow. Shoving the window upward with all our might, it only opened an inch, only to clamp shut again. Room 210. The words suddenly clicked in my mind. I had heard them before. I had heard them on the news. All the murders happened room 210. I panicked as the room gave all its might, as we tried to find a way out. We glanced around the room. Denise backed up against the far wall and started screaming and pointing toward the bed.
The mattress was splattered with blood, and the pool was expanding by the second. The metallic smell of the stuff filled our nostrils and forced me to through up. As I heaved, I noticed the blood was coming from the ceiling, and that the stream became thicker and quicker as the seconds ticked by. We had moved the the opposite side of the room, but the front our our clothing had been colored red. Suddenly, a night stand appeared beside me. Then a mother of pearl handled comb onto of the nightstand. A rug became visible in front of the room. The floor's actions subsided along with the wind over a few minutes as we tried screaming and opening the door, with no result. More and more items appeared: bedsheets, school books, clothing scattered across the floor. As the items became few and far between, a girls body laid on top of the bed sheets. The influx of items stopped suddenly along with the wind and lights. The room was calm. Dead calm.
We tried the door one last time, and it was glued shut. The girl on the bed looked so innocent. I felt myself being drawn toward her, along with Drew and Denise. We reached the bedside, where I pulled the comforter off her legs, and gave her a little shake. Her body rolled over onto it's back. We all flew back as Denise screamed and Drew fainted. Once again, I vomited. Could this be that little girl from so long ago? I gathered myself and walked up to her one last time. Every bone in my body was against it, but every cell in my brain crawled with curiosity. I stood a foot away from the little girl on the bed. I reached for her face, and a small, bloody arm greeted mine. I gasped as her eyes shot open. My eye's connected with hers as it hit me – this was the little girl I saw earlier today.
I tried to break away, but the girl's arm was cement. Her eyes grew big, and slowly the pupil expanded, covering the visible part of the eye. I gasped and screamed for help, but realized that my two counterparts were no longer present in the room. The door was open.
"Hello." Screeched the girl. Her voice was scratchy and high, making her sound demented. Her head moved upwards towards mine. "Are you ready?" She asked. Ready for what? Blood poured from her eyes and down her fragile looking arm. I struggle as fiercely as I could, but the blood flowed upwards from her arm onto mine. The knife in her chest burst out and hung in mid air. A sparkling entity rose out from her, and I was driven into a larger state of panic. The blood ran up my arm burning like acid. I was screaming the entire time. The blood made its way up my neck. I tried in vain to push it away with my other arm, but it began to run up that arm as well. I was stuck, and I screamed. That's all I could do. I was helpless. The blood reached my mouth and filled in, silencing me. I felt it sinking down into the depths of my inner organs. My eyes had become covered in the blood, and as I opened my eyes, all I saw was muffled red.