Chapter Three

A young woman's life is consumed by terror and tension after encountering an eerie, spidery man hidden in her closet.

When I awoke, I found myself lying in my own blood. I screamed and scrambled to my feet, absolutely sickened by the very sight. Though my stomach no longer hurt, it was twisted with a mixture of fear and revulsion. Blood was everywhere. It was spilled along the tiles and slopped all over the toilet, dried on my fingers and crusted on my face. I stared at myself in the mirror, stunned to see my grisly reflection. Beneath all the red I was pale as bone and visibly shaken.

And then I heard Jack’s voice rising from the hallway. 

“Miranda? Are you all right?”

I scrambled myself to the bathroom door, slammed it shut, and locked it. “Give me a minute!” I shouted, my panic rising. I hurriedly wet some towels and used them to mop up every bit of blood. I washed myself in the sink until there was no more crimson painting my skin. Luckily I had left a spare change of pajamas in the bathroom from earlier this morning, so I changed into them and stowed my bloodied clothes beneath the sink. In all honestly, I didn’t know what to do with the key. I picked it up with two fingers and tried not to feel too repulsed - but it was no use. I had vomited this key. How long had it been inside me? And how had it gotten there in the first place? I certainly hadn’t swallowed it by accident or anything - that seemed impossible. So where had it come from?

I hid my tears carefully when I opened the door. Jack stood before me, eyeing me seriously and holding a glass of ice water. “Miranda? Benjamin told me you were sick. I just wanted to check up on you before I went to work.”

“I’m fine. I just had to, you know, upchuck.”

“Was it the omelet? It didn’t agree with you?”

“I don’t think so,” I lied. “Sorry.”

Jack nodded. “Don’t be. I just won’t make you omelets anymore. Sad though, that you have to miss out on them from now on.” He handed me the water glass. “Here, drink.”

I guzzled down the entire cup, savoring the cold water as it washed away the horrible, bloody taste in my mouth.

“Do you need anything else?” my grandfather questioned.

I shook my head. “Just some more sleep. Did you give Benjamin his medicine?” I had taped the list on the refrigerator yesterday so that my grandfather and older brother would know what medications to give Benjamin if I wasn't around.

“Yes,” Jack said. “He’s watching television right now but I think he’s close to snoozing.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll return later this evening. Feel better, Miranda.” Jack clapped his hand on my shoulder before he left.

Now that I was once again alone, I took a moment to examine the key. It was a skeleton key, tiny and made of brass. Miniature words were engraved on the handle; I had to squint my eyes in order to see them.

“Dónde está la nocturna,” I read aloud wonderingly. I could tell the words were of Spanish origin, but having taken French all through high school, I had no idea what they might have meant. I did, however, manage to relate the word nocturna to nocturnal, and began to wonder if the inscription might have meant something about the night. Uncertain and scared, I threw the key inside my desk drawer and slammed it shut. I would not touch it until I figured out a way to get rid of it. Throwing it into the ocean seemed like a perfect option for now.

In an effort to distract myself for the rest of the day, I played a round of videogames with Benjamin and made steaming cups of hot tea. We ate vegetarian wraps out on the deck for lunch and wrote a story together in the sunny, upstairs loft. Benjamin would tell me the gist of the story - which usually included his favorite animal, the walrus - while I scribbled it down on paper. And when we were finished, we laughed and read it aloud together.

Micah returned home later in the evening, but instead of looking cheerful, my older brother was quiet and dazed. “Everything all right?” I asked him. “How did the dive go?”

“It was…inexplicable,” Micah admitted, flopping into the nearest chair. “Tell me, sis, why do humans get stuck living on boring land when the real beauty is underwater? I’ll never understand it…never…”

“What sort of creatures did you see?” I asked him, interested.

“All kinds. Sea otters, sea urchins, rockfish…a leopard shark or two…”

“Sharks! You saw sharks?” Benjamin had never looked so awed.

“They’re tiny little things, and virtually harmless,” Micah said, smiling.

“What about walruses? You see them?”

“Nah, no walruses, buddy. They don’t live in the Berchain Bay.” Micah smiled warmly. “It’s amazing, studying life in the kelp forest. And what’s exciting is that my team is going to be doing dives all week.”

“I’m happy for you,” I said. “Finally found something you love, eh?”

“Yeah, that and surfing. Which, by the way, I’ve got to go do right now before I explode.” Micah rose to his feet and rushed off to the surfboard shed in the backyard. When he returned, he was dressed in a thick wetsuit and carrying a white, blue-striped short board beneath one arm. Benjamin and I walked with him down to the beach and sat on the sand. We made little sand castles and watched Micah ride the waves, the smell of ocean salt and evergreens drifting around us.

Later that night I slipped outside and wandered along the sea cliffs. The stars glittered coldly while the waves churned with an almost sinister haste. I watched their endless blue motion as the dirt path stretched before me, slipping through tufts of grass and leaping along rises and dips in the earth. I stopped when I came to a particularly sheer cliff face, where there was no beach below but harsh waves waging war against stone. My hand dipped into my pocket and retrieved the brass key. I held it for a moment. It something wicked, and I knew it. It did not belong in my thoughts or in my life. Hatred rose in my chest as I gripped the key and flung it as hard as I possibly could. It whistled through the damp night before vanishing beneath the dark waves. I stood on the cliff for quite some time after that, staring into the bluish-black ocean. Then I dove my hands into my pockets and walked home, cold wind and colder shadows breathing all around me.

I decided to sleep in my room instead of downstairs on the sofa, this time with falling asleep to music that drowned out the scratching noise. But the next morning I woke to a gut-wrenching surprise: the skeleton key was laying pillow.

There it was, black and ominous in the early light. There was no escaping it, it seemed. I had already come to the conclusion that something paranormal was happening around me. But how on earth could a key make its way from the ocean to my bed? Could a supernatural force do that? Chilled, I picked up the key with my fingertips and threw it across the room. There I let it lay for the next couple of hours as I prepared Benjamin’s breakfast and did laundry.

It wasn’t until my little brother took a nap that I decided to further investigate the key. I had barely stepped inside my room when a loud bang exploded from my right. Then another bang, followed by another. It sounded as though someone was slamming his or her fists against a hard surface. Fear pummeled me as I realized that the sounds were coming from my closet. I was so terrified I wanted to cry, but I swallowed my fear and stepped forward. When I flicked on the closet light, the bangs abruptly stopped, leaving a harsh and unnatural silence. The closet was deserted, the walls lined with shelves and hanging clothes. Jack had randomly stored a great long board in here, its body so long that its tip just barely brushed the ceiling.

I navigated my way down to the end of the closet, stepping over old shoes and magazines strewn across the floor. “Is somebody here?” I whispered. I touched the far wall with shaking fingertips. There was, as I had expected, no response. I hastily rose to my feet and started for my room, but before I reached the doorway, I paused to look back.

The wall was no longer blank. A tiny, square-shaped door had appeared there, its brass keyhole glinting.

My mind grew numb as though gripped by the coldest frostbite. Instinct screamed at me to run, but out of curiosity, I walked towards the strange little cupboard that certainly hadn’t been there before. As I neared, I studied the keyhole. There were words written around it: La nocturna está aquí. Nocturna, just like the word written on the key. With a jolt, I realized that the key was a perfect fit for this cupboard’s lock. Both were made of brass, both were inscribed with a similar message. I fingered the key in my hand, debating whether to open the tiny cupboard or not. I had to admit that I was frightened. The sounds I had heard might or might not have come from behind this little door. But if that was the case, then what was causing it? My mind tried to dwell on the supernatural; I focused on reality, assuring myself that maybe a rodent or small animal had somewhat been locked inside the space and was now clawing to get itself out.

I turned to leave. And then, without warning, it happened.

A current of electricity jolted through my arm, which shot forward on its own accord. I tried to pull back, but it was no use; I no longer had control over my own appendage. My fingers jammed the skeleton key into its hole and twisted. I heard a sharp click, and the door slammed itself open to reveal a deep, shadow hole yawning in the wall. I just stared. Stared and stared at the dark square that glared back at me, my breath caught in my throat and my fingers trembling. Then closet light flickered and went out, throwing me into the cold clutches of darkness.

I fell back onto the carpet with a scream. Blood rushed through my right arm as I regained control over it again; I grabbed it with my left hand and brought my gaze to the cupboard. A slithering noise came from within it, as though something very large was stirring inside. And then the fear, icy fear, began snaking through my veins.

I ran. I ran from the closet. I ran as fast as I possibly could through the house and to Benjamin’s room. I urgently shook him awake.

“Miranda?” he murmured groggily.

“B, we have to go. We have to leave. Now. Right now.”

I scooped him up in my arms and rushed to the car, carefully buckling him in his seat before stumbling to my own. Benjamin kept watching me confusedly. I could tell I had startled him, and I felt sorry about it, but this was an urgent matter. We had to get out of that house - at least until my grandfather and brother came home. I knew I had to tell them what happened, but how could I? There was no telling if they would believe me, especially in a situation like this - a situation that was certainly unbelievable. Whoever heard of people vomiting keys that opened to disappearing closet cupboards? It sounded preposterous.

I drove to the park my grandfather used to take me to when I was little. While Benjamin played on the merry-go-round, I kept a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t fall or overexert himself. Seeing my little brother still so happy and playful filled me with a mixture of raw despair and admiration. Even the sound of his bubbly laughter pulled the cupboard from my thoughts filled my mind with memories of him before this ordeal had started. In those days, he never had to take medicine unless he had a cold or a cough. He never had frequent, splitting headaches or vomited in the mornings. He still had hair then - thick, black hair like Micah’s. So much had changed. He was still my Benjamin, and yet, he was different all the same.

When Benjamin grew tired, we sat on a bench beneath a cedar tree. The swathing branches doused us in a thick green gloom. I smiled at my little brother, but the smile vanished slightly as I stared out across the playground. Thoughts of the cupboard had returned, and they filled me with chilling anxiousness that brought sudden wetness to my eyes. Benjamin, sensing my distress, turned to me.

“Miranda,” he began, and then he paused.

I glanced at him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

Benjamin did not respond. He simply stared open-mouthed at me. Then he lifted a tiny finger and brought it beneath me eye. When he withdrew it, I saw a drop of dark, red-black blood clinging to the tip.

“Miranda?” he whispered.

I now understood why my eyes were so wet. Turning away from my horrified little brother, I used my sleeve to rapidly wipe away any bloody tears. The sight of the bright red color now staining my sweatshirt made my heart shudder. Even though I was close to panicking, I kept calm so I wouldn’t frighten Benjamin any further. I led him to the park’s bathrooms and slapped as much water on my face as I could. Then I heaved a deep breath and stood before the mirror to examine myself. Although my eyes still carried a faint red sheen, they were clear and free of blood. I could not explain why this had happened to me, but I knew it was related to the time I had thrown up both blood and the skeleton key. These strange, paranormal things were all intertwined. They were happening for a reason…but why?

Benjamin was quiet during the drive home. I asked him if he wanted to stop somewhere to eat, but he shook his head. It wasn’t until we pulled into the driveway when he asked softly, “Sissy? Why did you bleed?”

I cranked off the car’s engine and shifted in my seat to meet his blue eyes. “I haven’t been feeling too well lately, Benjamin. That’s all.”

“You wanna go to the hospital?”

“No, no. For now I just need some rest and some Tylenol, and I’ll be better in no time.”

“Do lotsa people bleed in their eyes?”

“Not very man, no. But if they’re sick, then yes, some of them can.”

“We need to tell Grandpa so he can help.”

My light tone took on a hard quality at this question. “I think it’d be best if we kept it secret for now. We don’t want Grandpa or Micah to worry, do we? You’ve got to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

My little brother was silent.

“Benjamin?” I eased nervously.

“I promise,” Benjamin said in a small voice.

It wasn’t until we entered the house that I remembered the upstairs cupboard. I mentally cursed myself. How had I forgotten about it? The incident at the park must have distracted me. I debated asking Benjamin if he wanted to leave the house again, but I knew he would be too tired, especially after all the energy he had spent at the park. While my little brother went off to nap in his bedroom, I brought my palm to my forehead and started pacing back and forth in the kitchen. Rain began to fall outside, pattering on the roof like stones. I did not know what to do. I had never dealt with something so ethereal before. Vanishing cupboards, bloody tears and vomiting skeleton keys…these things were all too much for me to handle. But still, I knew I had to do something. So I went upstairs to my room, thinking that perhaps I could gather enough courage to reenter the closet and give the cupboard a thorough inspection.

I was so focused on my plan that I almost didn’t notice the black envelope sitting atop my pillow. I stared at it and picked it up, fingers trembling. It was as light as a feather and addressed to me in silver ink. I tore the envelope open, my heartbeat resonating in my own ears, and pulled out a smaller sheet of black paper. When I held it up, I read two words also scribbled in silver.

Hello, Miranda.

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at the short letter with my hair falling into my face. I was breathing so heavily that I almost didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. A hand fell on my shoulder.

I spun around with a gasp. But nobody was behind me.

The letter crackled as I crushed it in my first. I walked over to the closet. Even in the low light, I could see that the cupboard had vanished. It had disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving nothing but a stretch of clean, blank white wall. I tried to flick on the light, but it refused to turn on. So I waded through shadows as I made my way to the wall. I ran my hands all along it, searching for a knob, a crease, a something.

Paranoia was beginning to sink in, as well as the certainty that I was not alone in this room - I had never been in the first place.

*

“Bath time,” I announced.

Leaving the thoughts of the cupboard and the letter behind, I entered the living room to find my little brother playing with a jigsaw puzzle, the tiny pieces strewn all around him. When I spoke, he offered me a defiant frown and pouted, “But Miran-daaa.”

“Nope. No buts. We’ve got to get you washed up and ready for bed.”

“I hate baths,” my little brother said.

“Nonsense. They’re amazing. Don’t you want to be squeaky clean?” I tugged at one of Benjamin’s ears; he giggled and finally agreed to take wash up. While he undressed, I ran the water in the downstairs bathtub and made sure it was at a perfect temperature. Since his brain tumor’s accelerated growth, Benjamin had developed a lessened sensitivity to hot and cold. So even though the water was absolutely scalding, it would still feel tepid to him.

I watched as Benjamin clambered into the tub, my eyes tracing his protruding rib bones and his shaved head. He looked so skinny and so pale, his limbs mere twigs beneath white waxy skin. His bare, emaciated physique made him look so fragile, as though he could fall apart at any given moment. I wanted to hold on to him, and hold him tight. Seeing him so thin only added to the dense reality of this nightmare. Was there anything that could chase this sickening darkness away?

While I washed Benjamin’s back, he brought his bony knees up to his chin and said, “Guess what, Miranda?”

“What, Benjamin?”

“I made a friend today.”

I was surprised. “Really?” I said, thinking of the neighborhood kids. “Who?”

“His name’s Bones.”

“Bones, huh? That’s an unusual name.”

“Yeah! He’s got a big, big smile. But he don’t say much. He’s shy!”

“You’ll have to invite him over sometime.”

My little brother cocked his head to one side, looking puzzled. “But he’s here.”

I lowered the washcloth and stared at my little brother uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean?”

“He’s sitting over there. See?” And Benjamin pointed to the far end of the bathroom, near one of the sinks. But no one was there.

“Is he an…imaginary friend?” I asked.

Benjamin shook his head. “Nope. Real.”

I decided to play along, but just for Benjamin. “And does Bones want a bath, too?”

“He doesn’t like water very much.”

“Aw, what a shame. Poor guy, he has to miss out on epic bath time!” I gave a shout and splashed a little bit of glittering water at my little brother, making him squeal with delight. But for the next couple minutes, I found myself glancing continuously in the corner, watching the empty spot where Benjamin had sworn his friend sat.

Reviews

[Beaumont]

Hey! I remember you! Didn't you used to have the name Yuriko on my Livejournal? I don't remember your SN on Fictionpress since it's been so long, but I wanted to say thank you! I've always loved hearing your support, and it's nice to hear someone so enthusiastic about this story! And you mentioned something about using Letters to Spine as a story film concept or something like that - and of course I'm ok with it! I wrote this for everyone haha, not so much myself, so feel free to write about it/screenplay thing and what not. Hope everything is well with you and hope you had a great New Year!

[The Shark]

Hey there girl!
I'm so glad you're rewriting 'Letters to spine.' I was one of the original readers that read through the whole thing the first time. I loved it then and and I love it now. It looks like you're going for a more deathly thriller horror than what you had before. And you added some characters and changed others. I'm really excited on how this plays out, and I'm so glad you're writing again. I read that you stopped writing horror? Why? You're so good at it! A real natural and I've read a lot of horror in my time. I miss your other stories on fictionpress, but do what you got to do, and for Satan's sake keep writing! Oh, and I'm just wondering here, but would you mind awfully If I wrote a screenplay based on this story? I'm a film student and I think it would be a great movie. Hell, it'd be a great book. I hope you get published someday. But hey yeah, I have some connections I've been trying to push horror screenplays on; just love to add this one to the fry, ya know? All credits due of course.