Note: I finally resigned myself to continuing the story. Mid-terms start tomorrow so I decided to relax today after all the studying I’ve done the last two weeks. I’m also half-way through chapter five, so I should get that up soon…no promises though. It took RRF to remind me about this story.

Chapter Four:

Peter thought his scare back at the cursed house had been enough of adventure for one night, but his conscience thought otherwise. The moment he fell asleep he began to dream of that fateful day again…

--

Finishing his last final exam of the year, Peter planned to ride the bus home from the university and wait there for his family to arrive from the funeral. The funeral was for his Great Uncle, a man Peter had admired for many years. Danny and Susan, his two younger siblings, tagged along despite the fact that they had school, but Peter had to stay back for his final…You can’t miss an exam unless you’re either A: pregnant and about to give birth; or B: stuck in the hospital due to some life-threatening injury.

He knew his family was driving on the highway (the graveyard was near a little town where his Great Uncle once lived) and they should have been home an hour or so after he arrived…but they never made it. He remember the call he got from the police; recalled being driven to the scene of the accident.

Their bodies had been literally crushed. The drunk driver of a large delivery truck hit them head on when he dosed off at the wheel and turned a bit too much. Not only that, but another truck, one that changed into the lane behind his family to get ahead of another vehicle, slammed into them from behind. What he had seen was enough to make him sick to his stomach. The only satisfaction he found was in knowing that they had all died instantly…

How was it possible to lose everyone close to you in one day?

He woke up gasping for breath, covered in cold sweat and on the brink of a mental break-down only half an hour after he had fallen asleep. It was still wasn’t even entirely dark outside.

Good Lord…how was he ever going to live without them?

--

She felt her heart racing as she ran down the dock. This had to be one of the best days of her entire life—oh—just wait until she called her parents. They would be so proud to find out she got the job.

“Yes!” She called out in glee, feeling as giddy as a little school girl. After all the hard work…Her father was right, college did pay off in the end. Instead of continuing her side job as a waitress she would be teaching at St. Matthews Junior High in the fall—she couldn’t believe her luck!

“Can this day get any better?” She thought aloud. She hadn’t been expecting an answer.

“I’m afraid it’s about to get worse.”

The dock was long and it floated on top of the lake—she should have felt it moving if someone decided to sneak up behind her but the man had somehow managed to make it to the spot directly behind her unnoticed. When she turned around to see him clearly she wanted to scream but then…then she saw his eyes. But what was he doing there? The sun had set and it was fairly dark outside…

Somehow she was mesmerized by his elegance. He was pale but handsome—the chiseled-to-perfection kind of handsome, but possibly forty years old in age (he had that ‘aged’ beauty to him)…maybe less. Aside from the air of wisdom about him he was so alluring, so powerful and tall. His hair was almost darker than black, slicked back like he was some long-lost relative of a Transylvanian Count. But his face didn’t appear to be that foreign. He was decked entirely in black, seemingly dressed for a formal night out.

“Can…can I help you?” She breathed, tossing caution to the wind.

“Yes.” He smiled. His teeth were so white…so sharp… “But only for a drink, my dear. There’s no reason to keep you here …”

Heaven…hell…Why was she thinking about either of those—?

But then his hand was on the back of her head, tilting it as he gently grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled. Throat revealed; she merely stared at the stars flickering to life above as his mouth descended on her pale flesh…

He paused only momentarily and she listened as he chuckled. Then he said something—but not to her. It sounded as though he was talking to someone else.

“…Live on without them?” There was amusement in his voice. “My dear boy…I have your solution…”

--

Simon found it hard to sleep that night after eavesdropping on his parents. He didn’t know Mrs. Keel or her husband personally but the way she died was just…just plain creepy. Not ‘creepy’ like the house next door but…well, it was a little too much for him to put to words.

It only made matter worse when he came downstairs and headed for the kitchen. His mother hadn’t noticed him yet, standing at the oven scrambling eggs, her eyes glued to the small television situated on the counter. It was the news.

“…Another woman was found dead last night by the lake outside her apartment. Her throat—”

“Simon, babe—how’s it going!” His mother had noticed him by now, dashing across the kitchen to shut the T.V. off before returning to the stove. “I made you eggs.”

“Yeah…” He only listened to half of what she said, most of his thoughts dwelling on the fact that another person had been attacked by that…beast. What on earth was it?

“They’re not ready yet.” His mother said—sounding like she needed to say something just for the sake of saying it. Her voice was a little shaky. “Would you go upstairs and help your little sister? I asked her to bring down some hair elastics but she probably can’t find them.”

“Sure mom…” He turned from the kitchen and made his way upstairs. He expected to find her in the washroom or his parent’s bedroom but instead he found her…in his room. She didn’t even hear him when he called out her name, remaining where she stood by the window. Lucy was leaning against the windowsill, staring intently at something outside.

“Hello? Earth to Lucy?” He snapped his finger beside her ear and smiled when she jumped.

“Simon!” She exclaimed, tugging on his arm as she pointed out the window. Lucy was a little short and had to stand on her tip-toes to stare directly at the ground, but he could see what she was pointing at quite clearly.

There, sitting on the top stair in front of their neighbor’s door, was Amber…and a rat…a big black rat with a shiny coat of fur.

Simon’s only guess was that the rat had to have been a house pet to look that clean, but all the kids he knew who lived in the area didn’t own a rat (wouldn’t want one either, seeing as how the majority of the people with pets had cats). It was a little odd to see one out in the open—but that wasn’t even half as peculiar as the way Amber was acting toward it. The vicious cat didn’t make a move to hurt it. Amber actually appeared to be ignoring the rat.

“That’s weird.” Lucy stated bluntly. “Is Amber sick?”

“Amber was sick to begin with.” Simon shook his head. The way Amber usually acted toward living creatures should have been proof enough that Margaret needed to send her cat to the vet.

The rat sat up on its haunches, sniffing the air as Amber lay down on the concrete. She yawned and seemed to relax, continuing to ignore the rat as it scurried away shortly after down the stairs and around the corner toward their neighbor’s back yard.

“We should tell Margaret that Amber got out again.” Lucy sighed as she stepped back from the window. “She’d cry if anything happened to her.”

It was a wonder Amber ever got out in the first place. Margaret’s family practically air-locked the house so the cat wouldn’t get out, and yet she always found a way. And the worst part about it was that no one could afford to let the cat wander around on her own for long. She would either A) attack someone or their dog; or B) Run away. Usually she didn’t run away, but there were a couple of times in the past when they found her hiding in the park where Mrs. Keel died. Margaret would probably cry if they didn’t find her by the nightfall and Michelle would join her sister in the tear-fest the following day.

“We should get them a new cat for Michelle’s birthday.” Simon suggested.

Lucy nodded. That cat was going to be the death of someone…

--

Peter had a hard time falling asleep that night. After waking from his dream he could have sworn he heard someone talking to him—he couldn’t tell what they were saying or where in the room they were standing when they said it, but, in the end, he decided to ignore it as a sign of stress. He was hearing things. So what?

Stress and depression won over him after he failed to fall asleep again. He ended up reading until dawn. He even beat his uncle to the shower that morning when he heard the man and his wife getting up in the room next to his. Margaret’s cat also went missing for the fourth time since he arrived there—Simon stopped by later on to drop her off before leaving for Day Camp.

All in all…it was an interesting start to the day. He wondered if something odd was going to happen before it ended.

He shouldn’t have said anything.

--

“Okay…stand straight, everyone. Hands by your sides, chins up…Good.” Peter eyed the flock of children in the main room of the school’s basement. The boys looked uninterested, but the girls were more than ecstatic. “Just to warm up, let’s sing ‘Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star’.”

One hand on the piano key, Peter started the song—

—Most of the children were badly off key, but he had time and patience. The headache he was getting from a lack of sleep wasn’t helping much, but hey—he could make do.

“Okay—maybe a scale would be better…”

“Or a frog.”

Peter paused. “Excuse me?”

Parker grinned. “I said…”

The boy didn’t need to say anything else. He slipped his left hand out of his pocket and produced a very muddy frog that leapt immediately onto the row of shorter children standing in front of him. The girls shrieked, the boys laughed, and all hell broke loose as the children scattered in many different directions to avoid the frog.

“Parker!” Miss Nancy yelled, trying to help the other councilors settle the children. “What did I say about bringing animals into the school?!”

Parker shrugged. “I forgot.”

Good grief.

Two little girls stumbled in his direction. Before Peter could stand up off the piano bench, one scrambled up onto his lap and the other sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest. Another boy jumped up onto the bench and stood, pointedly laughing at the chaos before him. The frog wasn’t even going anywhere. It hopped about in a circle on the floor before Sammy knelt down and scooped it up into her hands.

“Children…Children!”

Suddenly there was silence.

Miss Nancy had control again, fists planted firmly on her hips as she scanned the room with livid eyes. “It’s a frog! It won’t bit you—now get back in line!”

The children didn’t dare to question her orders—even Parker looked a little cowed by the sudden burst of energy from the usually peaceful principal.

The rest of the day went smoothly. They practiced two songs in the morning for the visit to the old-folks’ home next week, and then painted their papier-mâché creations in the afternoon. Tomorrow they were supposed to make coloured sand bottle designs, but the majority of the councilors had no idea how to do it. Peter ended up staying late, sitting in one of the classrooms alone as he tried to figure out how to do it right.

Four bottles later—success! He was finally able to make a star design, but when he checked his watch—wow…was it really seven thirty already? He was so sure Miss. Nancy left only a few moments ago. Now that he looked at the time…

“…I should really watch the time.” He said aloud to no one in particular. Sometimes, if he sat alone too long, memories of his family would rise to the surface and ruin his train of thought entirely. Even if the sound of his voice was the only thing there to keep him company, that would be enough…

Rubbing his eyes, Peter made to clean up his mess. In only a few minutes he had the bottles and cups of coloured sand laid out on the tables for the children and a few sheets of written instructions for the councilors to read over while he explained the craft itself tomorrow morning.

Peter had no idea how dark it was outside until he turned off the basement lights. He could barely see his own two hands. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he made for the stairs to the upper level and reached up around the wall for the light-switch.

Something flashed.

Something crashed.

Lightning and thunder.

Peter shivered involuntarily as he closed the basement doors quietly. It wasn’t that he was afraid of storms, but when you’re left alone in a big old building and you have the distinct feeling you’re being watched, well…you tend to get a little nervous.

Peter shook again—this time to rid himself of the uncomfortable sensation. He was just a little jumpy from the thunder, that’s all.

Too bad he didn’t bring a coat or umbrella. At least he didn’t decide to walk to the school that morning.

Shutting on the hallway lights, Peter locked the basement doors (the windows down there were easy for a thief to break through) and made his way down the hall toward the front doors. He should probably stop by the office to give his aunt and uncle a call. He should have started home ages ago.

Home…hah. What a funny word. He really wondered if he had a home anymore.

Using the keys Miss Nancy gave him to lock up the school with; he entered the office and made his way around the secretary’s desk toward the door. Lifting the receiver, he moved to press “line 1”.

…It was then he discovered someone else was using it.

The school was abandoned—he knew that much. The janitor didn’t have to come in during the summer because Miss. Nancy promised him they would clean up any messes they made, and almost the entire staff was on vacation. The councilors were long gone and Miss Nancy…well, what would she be doing there?

Suspicious, but not quite frightened, he hung up and locked up the office before starting his manhunt around the school. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so nosy, but if someone had broken then he had to report it in.

But he was sure it was just someone from the staff…

…

The school hallways were shaped like a rectangle with two hallways intersecting between them. The Large gym was located at the far end of the school, the smaller of the two closer to the front entrance, and the staff lounge was situated next door to the office. Finding no one in either of those places—and no one in any of the classroom (most of the doors were locked at the rooms themselves were dark)—he shrugged off his suspicions and headed for the front door. Someone must have left a receiver off the hook…

He would have gone home that night peacefully; he would have returned just as peacefully the next day if not for the fact that he noticed the door ajar of the front office. He knew he locked it, and since he also knew he should be alone in the building, the sight of it freaked the hell out of him.

He was half-tempted to run, but then the damn door flew open and out popped—

“AH!” Miss Nancy jumped back a step, hand clenching her chest like she was having a heart attack. There was a moment of silence before they both burst out laughing, Miss Nancy leaning against the doorsill for support. “Good grief, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here so late?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He pocketed his keys (which he had instinctively grabbed as a weapon). “I came in earlier to make a call but a line was in use. I checked out the halls, half expecting to find someone there.”

“No, I was locked up in my office finishing up some paper work. I lost track of the time.”

Peter glanced down at his watch: eight-ten. “Wow…I really should get going—I apologize for startling you.”

“No, not at all. I’ve dealt with worse.”

He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

She smiled in return and he headed out the front door before he managed to scare anyone else. It was still thundering outside, but the rain had yet to fall. Maybe he could beat it home.

Slipping into the front seat of his car, he stared across the lawn at the school. He had no idea what force was calling to him, but he felt the need to stare at the basement windows obeyed instantly.

Suddenly Peter wished he hadn’t.

Something moved in the darkness—a white apparition that glided across the windowpane, slowly…It disappeared as soon as the lightning flashed, thunder rumbling in its quack and urging him to flee. But it was the small drizzle of rain that finally convinced him to move, and the ill sensation of eyes sizing him up.

As frightening as his experience of the day was, he deemed it necessary not to tell either his aunt or uncle when they asked if he was feeling alright. They already knew he was depressed from the loss of his parents. In the same sense, he knew depression led to an unsound mind. These…things were just a few tricks his mind decided to play on him, and as awful as those tricks were at least he had an excuse for them.

“Just depression.” He told himself when he slipped into bed that night. Even though he knew sleep wouldn’t come easy, the darkness of his room was safe and subtle. “Just depression…”

…

Yeah right.