《Nightmare Manor》


 Chapter 1: Refuge

    SLAM!


    Not sure which hurt more, my face slapping the floor or the auditory-punch from the splintering-crack of the door. My ears rang in protest. Gingerly I lifted my head and opened my eyes. I was met with a beautiful polished wood floor. Lights from overhead softly reflected off the warm-red cherry wood. I picked myself up. I quickly looked at my hands before wiping them on my pants, only to find them completely clean. ¡°This place must be well taken care of.¡±


    Stepping out of the foyer I was greeted by the sitting room. Two dark gray couches on either side and a similar colored rocking chair facing inward pinned down a rug of rich green. Completing the frame to the rug was the stone hearth of a rugged fireplace made of stones, which rose up to the ceiling. Small side tables stood at-the-ready between the seats. Enveloping the room in a warm embrace was wallpaper the color of a perfectly made latte.


    Before I even felt the shiver I wrapped my arms around myself. Despite the warmth of the house, a deep chill permeated my bones. ¡°A latte right now would be incredible.¡± I waddled-in-place, turning like a plate in a microwave, only stopping once I saw a doorway. I walked over to it and peered through. A hallway of closed doors lay before me; two on each side, and ending at a wall with one single door facing me. Even from this distance I could see that shapes were carved into that final door¡¯s wood. Small shaded lights sat upon ornate bronze perches throughout the hall.


    Spilling into the hallway at the very end on the left was a light stronger than the soft ones guarding this stretch. Curious, I walked toward it. The closer I got, a beautiful smell wafted from around the corner. Coffee. By the time I turned the corner my mouth was already salivating. My heart raced just thinking about it! A beautiful kitchen with marble tiles and cabinets the color of the first snow practically stole my heart away. Countertops, the same color as the cabinets, practically wrapped around the room.


    Eagerly I stepped toward the room, only to bounce back toward the hall. Confused, I looked behind me to see what I was snagged on. Wrapped around the knob of the carved door was my right hand. ¡°I must have grabbed it without noticing.¡± I released the knob and stepped into the kitchen.


    It was breathtaking. Large windows broke up the cabinets. ¡°The natural light in this room must be beautiful in the morning,¡± I thought to myself as I could only see my reflection in the glass. Dirty-blond hair rested upon my shoulders. I brushed my hair behind my ear. I wouldn¡¯t say I was that bad looking. A small nose rose from a face of Caribbean sand. What stole the show were my eyes; crystal blue whirlpools that could draw in anyone. Combining all that with my lavender tank top and blue jeans, I was cute.


    Pulling away from my own Narcissus, I looked about the room for the source of the dark-roasted heavenly smell. Sitting on a counter a few feet from me was a royal blue mug. Steam gently rose from a cloud of steamed milk. I walked over and picked it up with both hands. The top jiggled slightly with the movement. This gorgeous drink here has to be a latte. The warmth from the hot cup bit my cold hands, but I didn¡¯t care. I bit my lower lip in anticipation and blew softly on it. The top of the frothy cloud rippled under my breath. Carefully I brought the mug to my lips and tilted it carefully.


    ¡°Mmmm.¡±


    Liquid gold washed over my tastebuds. Hints of dark cocoa playing in sweet cream brought me to my happy place. It was perfect. With my eyes closed I savored the coffee. After sending the chill-thawing hot liquid down, I placed the cup down on the counter. Someone here had to have made this after hearing me.


    ¡°Hello!¡± I shouted. In an effort to keep hair from the latte, I gathered up my hair and tied it into a quick ponytail. I picked back up the steaming mug with both hands and moved into the hallway. Directly across from me past the carved door looked to be stairs. Whoever made the drink probably ran upstairs.


    I moved toward the staircase but stopped in front of the carved door. Something about the door intrigued me. It didn¡¯t have carvings of cupids, animals, or anything like that. Just spirals that seemed more like branches that would intertwine. Despite the chaos of it, the door itself was oddly comforting. I grabbed its dark metal door knob and tried to open it.


    Thud thud thud.


    The handle was free but the door itself was stuck. Looking around the door knob I couldn¡¯t find a keyhole or a switch. Looking over the door I searched amongst its intricate design. It took a few minutes but I was able to find a keyhole. Instead of being surrounded by a metal plate, it was cut straight into the wood. A tad hard to find but I¡¯ll remember where to locate it. If I happen to find a key I¡¯ll have to see if it fits.


    I left the carved door and walked into the stairwell. The stairs were made of the same beautiful red wood as the floorboards. A banister of dark wood with ribbons of silver inlay guided my ascent.


    ¡°Hello!¡± I reached the final step and looked around. The second floor was nearly identical to the first; a short hallway with two closed doors on either side. Directly across from the stairs was the bathroom. I made a mental note of its location. Maybe the person stepped into one of these rooms. I approached the first closed door on the right. I quickly adjusted my tank-top and posture, cleared my throat, then knocked gently. ¡°Hi! I wanted to thank you for the latte. May I come in?¡¯


    I waited a few seconds. No response. I knocked on the door another time. Still no response. Grabbing the brass door knob I gave it a twist. Locked. I shrugged and tried the next door. Locked. I tried the last two doors, which yielded the same result. ¡°Hello!?¡± Maybe I missed them? Instead of another carved door, this floor¡¯s hallway ended in a large circular window. There wasn¡¯t another staircase. My brows furrowed. They had to be on the first floor.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    I carefully descended the stairs and tried the first door on the left. Locked. ¡°Hello!? Is anyone here!?¡± Just like the second floor, all doors on the first floor were locked. Either someone is extremely shy, or they walked outside. Regardless, they¡¯re rude.


    I wandered about the house, eventually I found myself leaning against a wall, looking out from the large circular window on the second floor. My mug was nearly empty. Every last sip needed to be savored. I managed to turn off a few of the lights behind me so I could see out easier.


    A snow-coated forest surrounded the manor. How far exactly, I couldn¡¯t tell. That would be a question better left for the morning. There didn¡¯t seem to be anything in terms of property markers or decorations out there that I could see; not even a mailbox. I finished my coffee and pushed myself off the wall. Might as well bring this to the kitchen. As I started walking, the sound of something small hitting the floor called out behind me. Hoping I didn¡¯t break something, I turned around and looked down.


    A key no longer than the length of my index finger lay on the floor. Confused, I bent down and picked it up. I rolled it around in my hand. It was some sort of silver key: a long round stem, two large bits on the front, and an ornate bow on top. A skeleton key. I squinted my eyes and looked for where it could have fallen from. I shrugged and pocketed the key. Once I manage to snag whoever lives here, I¡¯ll make sure to give it to them since a key in a house of locked doors is worth more than gold.


    Once I was in the kitchen I placed the empty mug next to the sink. I wanted to wash the filthy thing but soap was nowhere to be found. I felt bad about leaving it. I could rinse it, but without soap, it was just foux-clean. With a sigh I abandoned my duty.


    Despite the caffeine, my eyes begged for rest. Seeing as how any of the beds this home coveted was behind lock and key, I opted for one of the couches in the sitting room. I was able to find a floral decorative pillow and blanket folded up in a basket beside the couch on the left. Making myself comfy, I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me.


    * * *


    I woke as the morning sun climbed above the trees. While the couch was comfy, it didn¡¯t warrant sleeping in. I stood up and walked to the window while I stretched. The forest was beautiful from this angle, but it would be even better from upstairs. I quickly folded the blanket and tossed it, along with the pillow, back into the basket. Satisfied that I¡¯ve cleaned up after myself I jogged through the house until I reached the window.


    The forest went as far as the eye could see; which wasn¡¯t very far since the trees were taller than the manor. I don¡¯t know what I honestly expected. Disappointed with my findings, I found my way to the kitchen. My mug still sat by the side of the sink. I took a deep breath and let out a sigh. Might as well leave it in the sink so no one else uses it by mistake. I grabbed the mug and moved it over the sink. I let out a quick yelp as hot coffee and frothy steamed milk spilled over my hand. Groaning from the pain, and partially the surprise, I placed the mug back onto the counter and slapped the faucet handle. Hot water poured down onto my hands, which resulted in a few choice words. I adjusted the faucet and tested the water before plunging my hands into the stream.


    ¡°Thank you for the coffee!¡± I yelled with a bit of annoyance. Whether the maker of these drinks would show their face or not, I didn¡¯t really care. Yes, this was on me, but telling me that they¡¯re making me a drink would be appreciated. They¡¯ll make me drinks, but won¡¯t show themselves. ¡°Great!¡± I huffed.


    I found a small hand towel hanging from the refrigerator handle. While I dried my hands I looked around. Due to the numerous windows, the kitchen felt open with all of the natural light it received. I pulled the towel off the refrigerator and used it to dry off the outside of the mug, along with the ring of coffee beneath it. I left the towel on the counter, grabbed my mug and took in a much needed sip. I closed my eyes and let the hot liquid move over my tongue. ¡°Mmmm¡± I moaned happily.


    The owner of this place might be weird, but I could get used to this. Adjusting myself on the counter I reached into my pocket and pulled out the skeleton key. In the morning light the key practically sparkled. ¡°Beautiful¡± I whispered to myself. From the corner of my eye I could see out the door and into the hallway. The carved door peaked at me, beckoning me to it. ¡°With no one here to stop me, why shouldn¡¯t I give it a try,¡± I said with a mischievous smirk.


    I walked over to the carved door and looked around for the keyhole. I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder. ¡°Home free¡±. I plugged the key in and gave it a try. The mechanism was a little stiff, but it opened with a lovely muffled click. Giddy, I twisted the doorknob and pulled.


    Thud thud thud


    Did I not turn the key all the way? I twisted the key back and forth, feeling the internal mechanism moving with each direction. I gave the door another try.


    Thud Thud


    ¡°What the Hell?¡± I mumbled under my breath. I got on my knees and positioned my ear just above the keyhole. I turned the key slowly at first to see if maybe something was being caught on. After a few times, I could safely say that nothing internal was moving that shouldn¡¯t be. The noise the lock made sounded off, what was I doing wrong?


    Frustrated, I pressed my ear entirely against the door and began to twist harder and harder. My eyes shot open and I pulled back my head in disbelief. I awkwardly cupped an ear and pressed the other to the door. I closed my eyes and turned the key. I scrunched my face and pulled my ear away from the door. Facing the hall behind me, I turned the key as hard as I could and tried to listen for that muffled click. The sound of the lock opening wasn¡¯t coming from the carved door in which the keyhole was drilled into, it was coming from one of the doors down the hall.


    After making sure the key was in the unlocked position, I walked down the hall to the first door on the left and eyed it. A small image of an owl with pointed ear tufts was carved into the door right about at eye level. How did I not notice it before? I went to grab the door knob but stopped in hesitation. ¡°This can¡¯t be possible¡±, I said to myself. I held my breath and tried the door knob. Locked.


    I let go of the trapped air and chuckled. Of course that wasn¡¯t going to work. Just to humor myself, I moved on to the next door. Marked with the image of a fox poised in a mid-dive position, the next door yielded the same result.


    I pursed my lips and quickly turned my head toward the door across the hall. An image of a roaring lion head adorned the door. Smirking, I looked the lion in the eye. ¡°Are you going to let me in?¡± I tried the door and to my astonishment the handle twisted completely. ¡°Okay den.¡± I gave the door a small push and it creaked open.

 Chapter 2: Dollhouse

    I stepped foot into the room. From the opposite side, sunlight peeped through holes in moth-eaten drapes. Struggling to see, I searched the wall beside the door for a switch. Got it! I flicked the switch. Either the bulb had burnt out or the switch was broken, either way the shadows were not going to be repelled by technology. Luckily the light from the hall reached in a fair distance.


    The first thing I noticed were the cardboard boxes. Quite hard not to since they seemed to cover every inch of this room. Anywhere they could be placed, they would be placed. Maybe the owner used this as general storage? Since the drapes were in such poor condition and the rest of the house was so pristine, I doubt anyone used this room much. I walked up to the closest stack of boxes, ready to open the top one up.


    SLAM!


    I practically jumped into the tower of boxes causing the topmost box to plummet to the floor, throwing up its contents upon impact. ¡°Fuck!¡± Hiding behind the shield of my own petrified fists I turned around. The door that I had left open just moments ago had somehow shut on its own. Whatever. Might as well get those drapes open to get some light in here. Seeing as how there wasn¡¯t any rhyme or reason to the placement of the boxes, a clear walkway was never created. Choosing an opening on my right I squeezed myself through the opening and ventured forth.


    Making my way through the cardboard-infestation wasn¡¯t terribly difficult. By the time I made it halfway across my eyes had adjusted enough to where I could see pretty clearly in the pin-prick lit room. Circling the room just beneath the ceiling was a light green wallpaper border filled with balloons of every color. The walls themselves were a matted tan. Floating shelves of various lengths and sizes adorned the walls. Uniformity was definitely not a priority of the designer as the shelves were installed at random heights, some having shelves above or below them, some completely on their own.


    I looked at the shelf closest to me. An assortment of toys huddled up against each other as if they were in a tundra and clinging to each other for heat. Close to the center was a teddy bear, worn down by years of love and missing a button-eye, slouched with its back against the wall. Leaning against it was a stiff wooden doll painted to look like a policeman. Below the brim of its hat was a small nose and an overly large smile. I shuddered at just the thought of the thing turning its head.


    Next to the policeman was a jack-in-the-box. Whoever played with it last never reset it. The clown sat upon its spring with its arms spread wide. The clown wore a light blue polka dotted costume and matching hat. A small rim of extra fabric from the costume hung around its neck like a ratty collar. Thick white fabric gave the clown¡¯s face and hands a ghastly appearance. A red plastic ball nose sat between alert oval eyes and a painted on red smile that looked more like a deflated tube tire held up from two points than a mouth.


    The box itself had a strange design. It was painted with thick orange and yellow horizontal lines, and thin white vertical stripes. Such an odd pattern. I narrowed my eyes and leaned in for a better look. No, those weren¡¯t painted on stripes; they were scratches. Looking closer I could see that even the corners on the top of the box had been scraped of paint and slightly dulled. While the lid was no where to be seen, the delicate crank on the box¡¯s side was still intact. ¡°I am so sorry buddy.¡± I cooed apologetically for the Hell that this toy must have gone through during playtime.


    After slithering through a few more stacks of boxes I finally stepped foot into a clearing. Roughly three feet of space existed between myself and the drapes. With vigor I grasped the hanging cloth and freed the light from its mask. Dust rained upon me and I covered my mouth as I began to cough. Despite my best efforts of fanning the space before me, specks of dust reluctantly hung in the air and shined like dancing fairies in the light. I turned around and faced the room. To my left was a child¡¯s bed; completely covered by boxes. A barren mattress held up by an aged wooden frame. A rounded spiral groove ran up the legs of the frame and continued up into a connecting arch to create the headboard.


    To my right sat a gorgeous doll house. Three stories high, with a wooden facade painted dazzling white. The scalloped roof and trim were the color of fresh pink azaleas. I squealed as I ran over and dropped down in front of it. The details on it were exquisite. A small platform beneath the front door had a glued-on doormat. Guarding the enteance were two pillars supporting a small pink awning.  Using a fingernail I picked at one of the first story windows. Gingerly I moved the two panes aside and hunched over for a better look.


    In a dainty kitchen with yellow wallpaper sat a family of four dolls at a kitchen table. Dad, mom, daughter, and son all looked like they were a cookie cutter family from the 1950¡¯s: wearing bright smiles and Sunday''s finest. In the middle of the table was a small chocolate cake decorated with blue ribbons of icing.


    I pulled the doll house away from the wall and spun it around. While not nearly as intricate as the front, the back was made up of two rectangular doors. I undid a small metal latch holding the doors together and opened up the house. While the exterior was the same white as the facade, the interior was painted in rectangular sections that aligned with their respective rooms in the house when closed. I immediately saw the yellow rectangle that was the backdrop of the kitchen and my eyes were pulled to where the happy family sat.


    The scene was in disarray. The mother and son were barely in their chairs, the daughter was under the table, and the father was in the corner of the room. I pursed my lips. Definitely spun the house a bit too fast. I resituated the three at the table and reached in for the dad. ¡°Ouch!¡± I yanked my hand back. A small bead of red formed on the tip of my finger. I sucked on my finger and looked around the kitchen for where I could have gotten pricked on. The only thing I could see was the kitchen counter¡¯s corner.


    After grabbing the father with a lot more care, I set him back up with his chair at the table. The cake wasn¡¯t too hard to find and that too was back in its previous spot. A childlike smile appeared as an idea popped into my head. Instinctively I reached for one of the hanging cabinets. Inside was a messy pile of miniature plates. I fingered out four and placed one in front of everyone.


    Happy with the kitchen, my curiosity had me admiring the rest of the doll house. The jewel of the house was the library on the second floor. Beautiful dark-wood bookshelves filled with miniature books took up the majority of the wallspace. Anyspot unclaimed by the shelves was painted rich red. A large ornate mirror hung in the center, while small paintings of people and scenes found home in other openings. Two lavish red chairs sat angled with their backs to one of the two corners in the room.


    Each room had a working door so the inhabitants could move about the house. It truly was a gorgeous piece. The center room on the first floor was a fairly simple entranceway. A long violet foyer cabinet sat to the right of the door. Aside from the wood floor, the room screamed purple. The purple seemed to be at war with the bright yellow of the adjoined kitchen. A staircase on the left side of the entranceway led up to the floor above. Disconnected, house dwellers would need to climb the stairs, walk toward the opening in the dollhouse, then climb an additional staircase to reach the third floor.


    Compared to the rest of the house, the third floor was bland. Two bedrooms and a small bathroom with a curtained tub. The parents¡¯ room looked to be at the top of the stairs, while the kids¡¯ room and the bathroom framed it. On one of the two beds in the kids room stood a small plastic brown cat.


    Forever frozen in a walking stance, the head looked like it could be raised and lowered. I picked up the cat. Around its neck was a thin blue collar adorned with an extremely small key. I lowered its head and placed it on the kitchen table with its nose poking the cake. I chuckled to myself as I closed up the doll house. Remembering the disarray caused by the movement last time, I rotated the house slowly and slid it back against the wall. I bent down to look into the kitchen and smiled, the family and cat were still in place. Nice.


    I stood up and dusted my pants off. I walked back over to the window and looked out at the frozen forest. The world outside was still, not even the wind danced amongst the foliage. The sight of a deer would have been picturesque, but that blessing seemed to be holding out for another time. Disappointed I let out sad huff.


    That¡¯s the moment I heard it. A child¡¯s laughter. I spun around. ¡°Oh I didn¡¯t know you were in here.¡± Expecting to see a little one standing behind me, I was greeted only by the towers of boxes. Again the child giggled. Maybe they were shy?


    I wormed through the boxes in the direction of the giggles. ¡°My name¡¯s Kayla,¡± I said with a playful smile, ¡°what¡¯s your name?¡± The sound of something hard being slowly dragged across the floor gave away their location. I bit my lower lip and crouched down. Moving as quietly as I could I moved toward them until the scraping noise was just two piles ahead of me.


    ¡°I found you!¡± I said playfully. The child giggled and the scraping sound moved its way toward the edge. I prepared a friendly smile in preparation. As the source of the giggling appeared from behind the boxes, my smile faded. Two small white hands were the first to appear, followed by the point of a blue polka dotted sock hat. The stark white face of the jack-in-the-box was tilted toward the floor. A small arm reached forward, dug its fingers into the floor, and pulled the rest of the body forward. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    My heart began to race as the head turned toward me, revealing the red plastic nose and hideous painted-on smile. As it rounded the corner, I realized what that scraping sound was. At the end of the extended coil that trailed behind it like a metal intestine is the wooden box. Each time the jester pulled itself forward the box behind it would drag across the old wooden floor. The child¡¯s giggle erupted from the toy causing my nerves to finally give in and scream.


    I shoved and swam my way through the boxes toward the door. Despite the clatter of the falling boxes I could still clearly hear that horrifying giggle. The scrapping of the wood seemed to disappear. I looked behind myself in hopes that it would be trapped on the other side of the chaos, but found that it was quickly crawling over the cardboard rubble toward me. I stumbled out of the boxes and nearly face planted the door. I grabbed the door knob and practically ripped the door off its hinges. I rushed into the hallway.


    ¡°Ugh!¡± The air from my lungs was forced out of me as I ran into a heavy piece of wooden furniture. I don¡¯t remember anything like this being out in the hall. I didn¡¯t have time to ponder the prior existence of hallway furniture. I spun around just as the jester¡¯s box clattered to the floor from clearing the disaster zone. I reached in and closed the door as quickly as I could. Still facing the door I slowly walked backwards. There was no way that that thing could reach the doorknob¡­right?


    It took only a few steps backwards to realize something was wrong. The hallway wasn¡¯t this wide. My eyes darted around the room before me. Nor this purple. The house¡¯s wallpaper was definitely brown. From the foyer cabinet to the paintings on the walls, they all looked familiar. My hands cupped my mouth. Oh no¡­ oh no no no no no no. I looked to my right and saw a doorway.


    The next room had bright yellow walls. Tears started to run down my face. As I continued to walk backwards the table came into view. Sitting around the table, just as I had left them, was the Sunday¡¯s finest family. The brown plastic cat still on top of the table with its nose resting against the toy chocolate cake. I entered the room and approached the closest window. A dark brown wooden field coated in fluffy white powder gave way to flat factory-pressed cardboard mountains that reached to the heavens.


    Tears rolled down my face. How can this be happening? How can I be in the dollhouse? I turned back around and gasped. The cat that was previously standing on the table now lay on its side. Three of its legs had gone missing, along with its head. A new red puddle cradled the mutilated toy. I forced myself to approach the table. With a shaky hand I touched the puddle. My fingers came back red. I looked up at the family. Each of their mouths were slathered in the same red liquid that resided on the table.


    My jaw went slack. I looked down to the cat then back up at the family and screamed. All four of their heads now faced in my direction. I ran out of the room and grabbed the door. I readied myself to kick the creepy toy on the other side clear across the room. I ripped open the door and froze.


    No jack-in-the-box in sight, only a wooden field coated in white fluff. I looked behind me to see if the family had followed me. The room behind me and the door to the kitchen were clear. I took a step back and closed the door. I reopened it and looked out. No change. ¡°Come on!¡± I screamed. I repeated this over and over, praying for that stupid jester to appear in front of me.


    ¡°FUCK!¡±


    I shoved the door open and stormed outside. The deep grooves in the wood nearly tripped me. I caught myself and turned around. The doll house was massive and towered over me. Every detail on the house that I found so cute just minutes ago now became an ominous shadow. From where I stood I could see into the kitchen. The family was still at the table, their heads now faced back toward their feast.


    No way I was going back in there. I raised my arms and ran my nails down the back of my head. This is insane. I was just running away from a toy and now I¡¯m the size of a toy. This is insane. I looked down to the giant pieces of dust before me. I¡¯m dreaming¡­I have to be dreaming. I¡¯m still laying on the couch sound asleep.


    The comfort of the realization helped calm my nerves a little. I heard in a documentary that if you were dreaming and the dream was not going the way you wanted, change the narrative and your brain will adjust. I nodded to myself. This is a dream and I can do this.


    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I shook my hands and re-entered the house. I approached the head of the table. Blood from the now missing cat had reached the edge of the table and dripped onto the floor and legs of the family members. I went to reach for the cake but paused. I had a better idea. I walked over to the cabinets and grabbed a plate. A knife had to be here. After rummaging through a few cabinets I managed to find an awkwardly large fork and knife. I walked back over to the head of the table and set a place for myself. ¡°Hmm.¡± I furrowed my brow then walked to the opposite side of the house. I soon returned lugging a similar-styled chair that I found. I scooted myself in and smiled at my hosts.


    ¡°Can someone pass me the cake?¡±


    No one moved. No worries. I leaned forward and reached for the cake. A few failed attempts with my fingertips was all it took until I was able to get a grip on the cake. Happy with myself I picked up the knife and angled it just right then pushed down into it.


    I frowned. The cake was completely solid. I turned my head toward the little boy sitting closest to me on my left. His head was turned toward me. His permanent teeth-baring smile coated in blood. I looked down towards my plate. The pool of blood now partially surrounded the white disk. I lowered my arm back to the table but felt resistance. The hand of the little girl on my right was wrapped tightly around my wrist. I tried to free myself. The wooden hand was unyielding.


    To my horror the girl¡¯s grip on me began to tighten. I yelped out as I could feel the strain in my bones. I looked up and saw that the mother and father were no longer in their chairs. The mother had begun to crawl onto the table. The father was nowhere to be seen. I frantically began to scrape at the girl¡¯s hand, trying to find any purchase on it. My efforts only put scratches into the wood.


    Strain exploded into anguish beneath her grip. The fight from the gripped hand completely ceased as the strained bones shattered. I could barely breathe as I screamed from the pain.


    I grabbed the knife and tried to stab the girl¡¯s arm. The knife only cracked against the surface. I tried to saw through but the teeth on the knife were as round as could be. I looked back toward the mother who was now entirely on the table and reaching toward me.


    My heart felt like it would break through my chest. ¡°Let go of me!¡± I screamed out as I shut my eyes and thrust the knife toward the girl¡¯s face. Immediately I felt her grip cease. I opened my eyes and the little girl¡¯s arms were both in the air, her head thrown back, and the knife sticking out of her left eye. The same blood from the table now oozed from the wound.


    I pushed myself away from the table and ran into the entryway. Blocking the door was the father. I looked toward the kitchen and the mother had cleared the table and the boy was just feet from the doorway. Without any other option I ran to the stairs and sprinted up them.


    As soon as I reached the top I looked behind me. The family congregated at the bottom of the stairs. The girl stood in the back, the knife still lodged in her head. To my left was a small sitting room, to my right along the wall was a closed door. I ran to it and pulled with all my strength on it. It wouldn¡¯t budge. I looked back toward the staircase and the father¡¯s head and shoulders were visible.


    I pushed forward and the door immediately swung open. I practically dove through and shut the door behind me. Pressing my back to it I looked around the room. I was in the library. I looked for something to block the door. Just a few feet in front of me was one of the chairs. With my hand still pressed to the door, I grabbed the chair and pulled it toward me. Unlike the chairs in the kitchen, this felt immensely heavier. When the pounding began I was still trying to pull the chair to me.


    Holding the door back was a challenge in itself. Combined with moving the chair, I felt like a character in a movie. I screamed out as I pulled with all my might. The chair legs screeched across the floor. Doing my best to hold the door closed with one hand I shimmied around the chair and lodged the chair against it as best as I could.


    The door shook with the family¡¯s pounding. The intensity of each strike could be felt by my eardrums. Remembering the second chair I ran to it and dragged it over. Huffing, I pushed it against the other chair. Unrelenting, the family continued to pound. With nothing left to barricade the door with, I walked backwards until I hit a wall. Sinking to the floor I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.


    I could feel the wall behind me reverberate with each of their strikes. It didn¡¯t take long for the books to start falling off their shelves. I screamed and covered my head as the first book came crashing down on top of me. As the books hit the floor some managed to open and lay exposed for all to see. The bright red lettering caught my eye. At my feet one of the books lay open. Written across the pages was my name. I grabbed the book and flipped through the book.


    KAYLA


    KAYLA


    KAYLA


    KAYLA


    I threw the book aside and grabbed another book. My name was sprawled across its pages as well. ¡°No no no no this can¡¯t be happening!¡± Book after book I rummaged through just to see my name in each of them as well.


    A loud cracking noise tore my attention from the books. A large crack had formed in the door and grew longer with each passing second. I couldn¡¯t stay here. I looked around. The only other way out was through the windows. I picked myself up and ran to the nearest window. The windows flung up and I looked down. The height was a bit daunting. C¡¯mon Kayla, this is only a few inches in height. I looked down again. But at this size, those few inches are a long way down.


    I had trouble just jumping from the diving board a few feet above the pool in high school, this was too much. I can fight off the family. Wood hit the floor and I turned my head toward the door. A corner of the door had completely broken off and I could see half the face of the mother; her unmoving smile now took on a sinister light. ¡°Nope.¡± I put my hands on the windowsill and lifted myself up. Swinging both legs over until I was sitting I twisted myself and lowered myself down as my arms could stretch. The screeching of furniture from the room above me was my signal to let go.


    While my feet hit the ground first, my ass was a close second. I picked myself up from the ground, picked a direction, and started running. I wasn¡¯t sure if they would follow, but I needed to get as far away from the wooden family as quickly as I could. Over my shoulder I could see the family of four watching me from the window I leapt from. The son and daughter in front and the parents in back; knife still protruding from the daughter¡¯s eye.

 Chapter 3: Cardboard Canyon

    I ran until the dollhouse was no longer in sight. Placing my hand against a dusty wall of this cardboard chasm I gasped for air. My legs ached to the point that sawing them off would have been a comforting remedy. The light that came in through the window barely reached these depths causing great expanses to be lit as if a single candle at a restaurant table were the only source.


    Between huffs I tried to listen for anyone, or anything, following me. Other than my own breaths, it was quiet. I was alone. I allowed myself to sit until my legs no longer felt like jelly.


    Once I thought my legs could move with a little less aching, I got up and started walking. As I reached the edge of a box I was able to step into the light. I turned towards the light and closed my eyes. The warmth felt fantastic, like a warm blanket wrapped around you during a thunderstorm.


    If this was a dream, it felt damn real. I ran my hand over my right forearm. Normally the senses in dreams felt dulled, like a phantom¡¯s touch. That little girl¡¯s grip was something else though. It felt like my bones were slowly cracking. I shuddered at the thought.


    Changing the narrative doesn¡¯t seem to be possible. Dying wakes most people up from dreams. My head tilted back so I could look to the top of the cardboard mountains. Except most dreams don¡¯t involve realistic pain. I don¡¯t think I could manage climbing up these walls even if I wanted to.


    A metallic scraping sound broke through the silence from somewhere up ahead. It would slowly go for a moment, stop, then carry on again. From beyond the immediate cardboard walls the source of the sound was impossible to view. Standing in the crossway wasn¡¯t enough, I needed to see it.


    Through the uneven halls I walked. Past dust bunnies and clumps of tape illuminated by the sunlight. Just as I was about to enter a new hallway, the light dried up within it. The scraping continued. I walked toward an opening on my left where the light still provided its warmth.


    Just like the previous hallway, the one before me went dark. I ran past that opening and turned into the following one. Ahead of me I could see a clearing. At the end of the clearing a tan wall rose until halted by a wooden ledge. An expanse of sky held back by glass sat upon the ledge.


    Before I could get to the end a large figure came into view, stopping me in my tracks. Hanging from the drape by one fluffy arm, a doll in yellow pajamas and red shaggy hair that ended at its shoulders walked forwards. Having traversed as far as its tether would allow, the doll pulled the drape to itself. A metallic screeching called out overhead. In horror I realized what that sound finally was, the grommets being dragged along the curtain rail. The sunlight that had previously bathed me disappeared, cloaking me in shadow.


    As the last of the sky had been choked out, the doll released the drape causing the top half of its body to hang awkwardly backwards. As if a snake lived within, the doll quivered and brought itself upright. With a slight slouch forward it turned and walked along the wall toward the bed. The doll paused. After a moment it began to turn its head toward me. Its torso twisted with it until both button-eyes were visible. Something deep inside me screamed for me to run. Before the doll could make another move, I spun around and bolted into the canyon.


    Through a suffocating blanket of darkness I ran. I didn¡¯t care which way I took as long as it took me further away from the doll. Whether or not the soft footsteps behind me were real or fabricated by my fear-drunk mind I didn¡¯t dare look back to reveal.


    The door.


    The thought flashed through my mind. I had to get out of this room. I didn¡¯t care how. I could try crawling beneath it. If that didn¡¯t work I¡¯d claw through it.


    My legs ached and my side felt like it was going to split, but I pushed through the pain. I ran until I was out of the cardboard maze. Despite the lack of light and the change in angle, I could recognize where I was. LIke a god the massive door stood before me.


    Running across the wooden expanse I arrived at the door. I dropped to the floor to examine the gap between the door and the floor. There wasn¡¯t a whole lot of room there. I layed completely flat and shoved an arm in. ¡°Fuck!¡± Army-crawling was out of the question. If the door was just slightly higher I could turn my head and push myself with the sides of my feet.


    I moved myself backwards and sat on my heels. Gripping the bottom of the door I pulled up hoping to rip away the wood. Without any give, I scratched at the door hoping to find any groves that could break away. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    I took a few steps back and looked along the base of the door. Maybe there were imperfections that would be great enough to create a larger gap? While not necessarily an imperfection, something else caught my eye.


    Roughly 15 yards away, possibly a foot away in reality, was a smaller door that was more my size built into the larger one. I jogged over to it. It looked exactly like the larger door; it even included an engraving of a roaring lion head. I put my hand against the door and moved my palm over the creature. It was surreal.


    I twisted the knob and pulled. I was hardly surprised when the door wouldn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Locked. Why wouldn¡¯t it be?¡± I grovelled to myself.


    I gave it a push as well for sanity¡¯s sake. Just like the original in the manor¡¯s hallway, a lonely keyhole sat right below the knob on the door in front of me. With my luck I¡¯ll magically find the key and get even smaller.


    That¡¯s when I heard it. A sound that froze the blood in my veins. Maybe it was the tunnel vision caused by my wish to get out, or just simply the lack of light. The childlike giggle was right next to me.


    I turned to look toward it. How did I not hear that damn box approaching? Holding itself up with both arms, the jack-in-the-box jester looked like an otherworldly predator. It angled its head down slightly to look at me. For a moment, we both looked at eachother.


    The sound of fabric tearing was followed by a slit forming within the jester¡¯s painted on smile. Flaps formed from the uneven tear folded over along the newly formed mouth. The slit didn¡¯t stop at the edges of the mouth though. Both sides began to tear further until the tips of the slit nearly reached opposite sides of the jester¡¯s head. The jaw began to lower to a sickening level revealing dozens of nail-like teeth. Bridges of saliva between teeth grew thin and broke the farther the mouth opened.


    Before I realized it I was already running back toward an entrance to the cardboard canyon as fast as my legs could take me. The sound of scraping wood sounded far back, but that did zilch in telling me where the jester pulling the source of that sound really was. I looked back for just a second.


    ¡°Ooof!¡±


    The tip of my shoe had caught the edge of a deep scratch in a floorboard. I hit the ground hard, biting my tongue in the process. I could taste blood. Despite the darkness of the room, I felt a shadow weighing down on me. I dug my nails into the floor and pulled myself back up and into a sprint.


    To my left, I could see the destruction left behind from my frantic attempt at escape before entering the doll house. I had an idea. Running into the canyon, I looked down the hallways as I passed them. The first two wouldn¡¯t do. The third one though looked perfect. I turned and prayed my idea would work.


    In front of me a massive landslide of random toys and other rubbish had formed from the spilling of boxes during my escape from earlier. If the jester followed me up, maybe its box would get caught on something. I had to hope, otherwise I don¡¯t think I could outrun this thing for much longer.


    Traversing the pile was much more difficult than expected. Each step caused tremors from items shifting to a secure spot. My broken arm throbbed to the point that I thought I would pass out. Without my other arm, climbing was slow. Any distance I was able to make between myself and the jester had nearly been lost. The Jester¡¯s giggle grew ever closer.


    I reached up and gripped the edge of a wooden cube the size of a refrigerator adorned by a giant, raised, sky-blue ¡°C¡± on the side facing me. I pushed the toe of my shoe into the rounded edge inside the letter. I lifted myself up and could see that an ¡°A¡± was on the top-facing side.


    In one motion I pushed off the ledge and pulled myself upwards. I released my grip on the edge and reached for the center triangle of the letter. I managed to latch on with my fingertips. As my momentum came to an end and gravity took back over my fingers slid along the letter. I could feel the wood grain running across my fingers. I fought to find hold in the crevice but my descent was unrelenting.


    I managed to catch the edge of the block. Unfortunately my foot slipped causing me to fall until my arm went taught and causing my body to slam into my broken arm. The world became a white fuzzy illusion as pain shot through my arm. The force from my fall must have been enough to cause a shift, because the block started to tilt toward me.


    Hitting the ground was a challenge in itself. The objects on which I stood barely could be considered stable. My left foot found solid placement. My right foot, however, did not. Tumbling backwards I roughly landed on my broken arm. Millions of tiny daggers plunged into my bone. If it weren¡¯t for the pain, I might have had time to react to the cube that now rolled toward me.


    I remember when I moved out of my first apartment. Large bins seemed like the perfect place to put my self-proclaimed library into. Their combined weight nearly drove me to tears when I tried moving just one of those tubs. This wooden cube felt like an actual library when its edge rolled across my back and crushed my legs as it continued to roll down the hill. Any air I had in my lungs was pushed out like the last drop in a tube of toothpaste.


    The world spun around me. I could feel whatever I was laying on tilt to the left. The darkness seemed to thicken around me. I gasped for air but my racing heart demanded more than I could give it. This was all too much. A rotten smell filled my nostrils and coated my mouth. The last thing I heard before passing out was the whisper of a child.


    ¡°Found you.¡±