Part 1

Part 2

–

A key… To what?

I take it, concealing it under my sleeve before flushing the toilet, getting rid of the hair. I also grab the bag and, on my way back to my room, push it deep into the bin. Uncle Curtis continues working on his boat; I can hear him clanging around outside.

Upon reaching my room, Natasha eyeballs me; she knows I’ve been up to something.

“What?” I ask.

She turns back to her book, flicking over to a blank page and tearing it out before writing something down. She’s written messages to me before; never to anyone else. Even then, she doesn’t do it often. She turns the paper to face me.

What were you doing downstairs?

“I just went down to get my bottle. And then Uncle Curtis started speaking to me about boat stuff. Why?”

She writes again.

Why were you under your blanket on the floor?

I sigh. There’s not really much point hiding it from her. She might even have an idea where the key fits, and she already witnessed the bag of nails – what’s a bag of hair?

“I found the next clue. To the treasure hunt,” I say. She sits up in anticipation, waiting to hear more. I fill her in on everything so far; the blue light, the warnings, the clock, the key. I reveal the key and hand it to her; she grimaces as she touches its sticky surface.

“Any idea what this might open?”

She shakes her head before writing something else on the paper.

Do we tell Uncle Curtis?

That’s a question I don’t have an answer to yet.

I lie down on my bed and rest my eyes.

–

I wake up to someone gently shaking my arm.

Natasha stands by my bed, a scared look on her face. It’s dark; night. I can hear the dull murmur of conversation from somewhere below.

“What is it, Tash?” I groggily say. She’s prepared a note for me.

Let’s find the key while he’s busy

My head prods against my pillow, “Tash… not now, okay? I’m tired.”

I drift straight back into sleep. I don’t even realise Natasha grabbing the key and leaving the room.

–

I wake to loud footsteps from somewhere downstairs.

My head lifts from the pillow and I lazily glance over to Natasha’s bed. She’s not there. She must have gone to the bathroom or-

I suddenly remember her waking me up. I quickly sit up, shooting out of sleep.

I leap out of bed and open the bag which had the key inside of it. The bag is empty. The key is gone.

With no concept of how long ago she had taken it; I panic. What if she had left hours ago? Surely she’d be back by now.

Quickly, although quietly, I move toward the bedroom door. It opens with a creak; my eyes scan the lounge area but it is dark and empty. The door to the bathroom opposite is open but the darkness within tells me she’s not there either.

Carefully, I head to the staircase and traverse it as silently as I can.

It is only now that I remember hearing the conversation earlier downstairs, although I now hear nothing.

The floor below is as quiet as the one above. Uncle Curtis’ room is shut. His study and bathroom doors are open but enshrouded in darkness. It’s almost… too quiet. I edge my way toward the study with the intention of checking each room when a noise throws me off.

A soft thud from somewhere below.

I turn back to the staircase and descend further. My heart rate continues to rise with each beat; a chorus of drums.

I reach the first floor but, before my eyes can even adjust to the darkness, I hear another thud. Again, it comes from below.

So, I continue down the staircase and soon find myself standing by the dining hall table. The darkness is my only company – at least until the next thud. It cloaks my body as it does the room around me; a veil that I feel is hiding more than I may realise. I move toward the back of the house with the intent of looking out toward Uncle Curtis’ boat.

However, as I move, I see something else.

In Uncle Curtis’ main study, through the glass doors; a hatch.

An opening in the floor next to a carpet that’s been pulled aside. The hatch door opens upward. I slide open the glass doors and edge toward the opening in the floor. As I get closer, I see a brass key in the lock of the hatch door; a perfect fit. Natasha clearly found out where the key goes… but how?

I peek into the opening; a chasm of darkness. Carefully, I drop to my knees and slowly lower one foot into the darkness searching for a foothold, be it a stair or a ladder. My foot soon rests on the step of what feels like a ladder. As it does, a quick flash of light below me. The sudden brightness shocks me, but soon darkness cloaks my surroundings once more. The flash of light was fleeting, temporary.

I consider calling Natasha’s name, but opt not to. If it’s not her down there, I don’t want to alert whoever it is that I’m here. Fear is the only constant as my emotions run wild. I pull my foot out of the dark passage below just as I’m hit with a new sensation. Something is…

Something is staring at me.

My trembling eyes slowly move around the shadowy office. There’s something in here. I can feel it. The large desk hosts an array of shadows, but nothing hides within them. My eyes move to the small shelving area; the murky darkness takes a second to adjust to but there is nothing there either. I look through the glass through to the dining room.

Something is definitely watching me.

During the day, the clock would provide a shadow across the room but now it is the room that shadows the clock. The white cloth on the dining table dangles, drooping to the floor below. The window behind –

The dining table. Something moves.

The movement is quick, like a flick. The cloth moves upward briefly before dropping back down and concealing whatever lies beneath it. I stare, frozen.

Against the white cloth I see four fingers reach out from below and grab the white sheet. Someone is under the table, and I’m about to find out what. Slowly, the cloth is pulled upward.

It is too dark to see what is under there. My eyes desperately try to adjust to the newfound darkness that now emits from beneath the table as I stare directly at whatever sits in its space.

A body; a small body.

It’s… it’s Natasha.

I make out her features first, and soon recognise her face through the glass door. Thankful it’s her, I open my mouth to speak.

Through the night, I see her rise a finger to her mouth. She then points to the open hatch, which I had momentarily forgotten about, and once again performs a shushing motion.

I stay low as I move away from the hatch and toward my sister.

“Tasha… what’s going on?” I whisper as I crouch by her.

She looks at me; her eyes quivering. Time seems to stand still. Her eyes tell a story of fear and anguish. They scream for help, yet offer aid. She’s seen something. And even though she wants to be strong, she’s terrified.

Another thud; this time, louder. Light shines from the hatch once more. The light lingers for a second, moving occasionally, before clanging against something hard. Then, another clang.

Whoever is holding that is climbing the ladder. They’re coming up.

Natasha grabs me and pulls me under the table. Just as I pull the table cloth back down, I see a hand rise from the hatch.

I cannot comfortably see through the table cloth; only able to make out when the bright light briefly shines across it. My trembling hands cover my mouth to quell my heavy breaths. Natasha does the same. Quiet footprints indicate that whoever was climbing out of the hatch is now out. The beam of a flashlight skips over the table multiple times; my heart dropping with each bright flicker.

Another metal clang. Then another.

Someone else is climbing out.

A quick, hushed whisper confirms this. A word is spoken; I am unsure what is said, and whether a man or woman has said it. Through the white cloth, a flicker of a flame is introduced. The glimmering light shines brightly from what I can only assume is a candle. Soon after, a subtle thump indicates the closing of the hatch followed by a click as it is locked.

Footsteps approach us. One. Two. Three. Four footsteps and they’re here. Something is placed on the table. The other pair of footsteps move past us and toward the staircase. As they ascend the steps, their sound fades and we are only left with the person standing by us.

My own heart beat and the quiet, subtle breathing of the stranger who stands above us is all I can hear.

I look at Natasha who is shaking. She is staring right where the person stands, separated only by a thin cloth. Eventually, the item is picked up off the table and the stranger walks away from us, toward the front door.

I slowly lift the table cloth, just a little, and rest my face on the cold wooden floor.

I glimpse through the darkness. As the figure opens the front door to leave, the moonlight provides me with enough of a glow to make out a tall, slender figure wearing bright red stilettos.