Halloween Stories-The Rabbit Hole

Greetings All,

Last week I shared, "Frozen" the short story. Since Halloween is on Saturday, today I'm sharing "The Rabbit Hole" with you. The Rabbit Hole comes from "A Handful of Halloween" the second installment of Halloween short stories written by the Greece, NY Creative Writing Group. Just a reminder the 4th annual Halloween Anthology, "A Hint of Halloween", will be FREE for the last time Friday and Saturday on Amazon. Check out my story, "The Isle of Toothsome"-http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0160N4C22/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_jGykwb1ZV8NQM

Now, on to The Rabbit Hole.

The Rabbit Hole

By Elle A. Rose

The Rabbit Hole

Admission:

One soul

Come and become a part of the main attraction

You’ll never leave 

 “Where did you get these tickets?” I ask Cam. They’re printed on the cheapest of cheap sheets of paper. I can see my fingers’ silhouettes through the flimsy material.

“Some clown on a street corner handed them to me. He said, ‘this is the best haunted house around,’” he replies, stuffing his shoulder length brown hair into a ponytail. “It sounds cool—what else do we have to do tonight?”

He’s right, it’s Halloween night, and there is nothing to do. There’s no way we’ll be caught going to a dumb costume party since we passed the age of trick or treating years ago. Plus, we’re already here. Lanterns dressed as scarecrows hang on either side of the cave entrance. The heads glow bright with fire dancing behind their hollowed eyes and gaping mouths. Every few seconds the lifelike effigies twitch like a body being electrocuted.

We drove miles to find this place. For a while, I thought Cam had the wrong directions. He’s good for that: tell you to go left when you should’ve continued straight, mix the numbers up of an address. And I doubt he could tell you if he was facing north or south, even with a compass in his grasp. As I was about to give up—egging a house would have been funnier than riding through Hickville—we spotted the sign for this place.

“Good evening.” Cam and I jump as a creepy-looking butler guy drags his hunched over frame from the depths of the cavern. “Welcome to the Rabbit Hole, we’re so pleased to have you.” His words remind me of the way Alfred Hitchcock used to speak. The slithery tone sends the hairs on the back of my neck to attention. Cam must be weirded out too because he takes a step back. This is going to be great. I love when they hire real actors for these gigs. “Gentlemen, if you’re ready, your driver awaits.” Creepy guy passes us each a plastic flashlight with pumpkin cutouts molded to the lights. When mine flickers to life, a toothless, smiling jack-o-lantern, bobs about the dark walls.

“Oh, here do you need these? How much does this cost?” My voice bounces off the dark wall of the cave, with as much excitement ringing in it as there is adrenaline zipping through my veins.

 Reaching out to offer the thin tickets to the butler, he says, “Keep them, we will make our collection at the end of the course.” As he speaks, a van pulls up and four teenagers pop out of the back. “Ah, more souls,” breathes creepy guy. “Boys, if you will kindly move along, the ferry will transport you to your destination.   

“You ready, Matt?” asks Cam, with a hard swat to my back. He fist bumps the air and flicks his lantern to life too.

 “Hell yeah!” I whoop and stuff the tickets into my pocket.

“Boys,” the butler calls. His words coil around us like a boa constrictor. “This is a very old cave. It’s been said one with a keen eye can find relics like gold coins still lying around. And mind the walls, they do move at times.”

The new group of teens draws creepy guy’s attention back to the mouth of the cave, and Cam and I edge our way into the pitch black tunnel. After a few feet, the ground seems to slope downwards. Our stupid flashlights do little to help us see.

“Did you hear that?” whispers Cam. His shoulder bumps mine and we stop walking. “I think I heard someone crying.”

 “Nope. It was probably the group behind us. We weren’t the only car out there. Maybe someone in front of us,” I respond and start walking again.

 “I’m freaking myself out and we haven’t made it to the house yet,” Cam chuckles and catches up to me. We trek along for a while in the dark. Every once in a while fake bats fly overhead. Their glowing red eyes appear to be searching the night for a way out.

 “Is it me or is it getting hotter?” I say as I remove my jacket and tie it around my waist. We’re still on a downward descent, and I swear with each step it’s getting warmer.

 “I guess,” Cam says. His sight is focused on something in the distance. “I think I see one of those gold coins old dude was talking about.” His weak light dances across a small gold speck on the left. He’s right. Bending, he smacks the ground with the back end of his flashlight to release the coin from the ground. The light from the cheap gadget flickers and with the last blow fades away. “It’s cold,” he claims and flips it back and forth before tossing it to me. I almost miss it as the shiny metal vanishes in the darkness around us. But when the heavy coin hits me in the chest with a low thud, I grasp it before it tumbles to the ground.

 “You think it’s real?” I doubt my own question, yet still try to examine the coin with the one light we have left.

“No way. I bet it’s chocolate or something on the inside,” Cam states and yanks the coin from me.

“How about you bite it and see?” I joke.

Cam reaches out and tugs on my elbow and I jerk away. “Stop touching me and let’s go,” I urge.

 “I didn’t touch you,” he snaps.

 “Okay, whatever. I felt you.” I go to walk away and he grips my arm again. “Let go.”

 “Matt, it’s not me.” Whipping around, my arm breaks the hold only to spot something moving back into the jagged wall of the cave.

 “Did you see that?” the words tumble from my lips like jars falling from a shelf in an earthquake.

 “Matt, what are you talking about? First I’m touching you and now you’re seeing things,” Cam laughs. The sound bounces off the walls before it cuts off in almost a strangulated gasp. “I felt it, too,” he yelps and jumps. Around us, arms and legs begin to emerge, some from the walls, and others the ground. I dare not look up to see if they’re looming over us too. A rotten, sulfur, old-trash, dead vermin scent fills the air and we both gag. The robotic hands reach for us, trying to haul us towards the wall.

 “Come on,” I holler. Now I hear it. Cries ring, haunting us, chasing us, and we race forward, seeking an exit.

With ease I zip pass Cam. In school, Cam is always picked last in gym, because he becomes winded too fast. I blame it on the fact that he’d rather sit and play a video game than go out and shoot hoops.

 “Matt, stop,” Cam calls from behind me. “I think we’re in the clear,” he states between gasping for air. I slow and try not to laugh. Are we a bunch of babies? We let ourselves get spooked by nothing more than props.

Screams echo behind us. We both bolt upright and edge closer together. “I bet it’s another group.” Why I say this out loud, to calm me or Cam, I have no clue. Sweat drops down my face and I wipe my jacket across my forehead. The heat is still rising. After a few steps, Cam stops and picks at something in the wall. It’s another gold coin. Repeating his actions from last time, he rams his broken flashlight into the rock wall until the coin falls into his hand. More stone falls and what looks like pale fingers wiggle their way through the hole from where the coin has vacated. I don’t know why but I reach out to touch them.

 “What are you doing?” whispers Cam in my ear. He’s closer than I thought, and just as the lifelike, ice-cold fingers stroke mine, I jump back.

 “I don’t know,” I stammer and rub my hand on my jeans.

“They’re coming again,” Cam says in an eerie voice. I don’t have a chance to question who ‘they’ are as the rotting smell wafts past my nose. Something brushes my foot and we take off running again. 

Exit to ferry flashes in a neon green light as we round the next bend. My nose, lips and throat burns from the intense heat. Cam again is a few feet behind me. I catch a glimpse of the moon beckoning me from the depths of the cave. I don’t hear Cam’s footsteps anymore so I spin, flashing my dim light back into the cave. “Matt, I found another gold coin,” says my friend from the darkness. “That smell came back and I saw those dead body parts again,” he states with a smirk and drops the coin into his pocket. He strolls towards the opening and I notice he has ditched his flashlight. Mine still works so I slip it into my pocket and follow him out. “I’m gonna sell these coins first thing tomorrow,” he declares and pats his leg.

 “No, you’re not. I’m telling you they’re fake,” I say and laugh.

A corn-stalk archway lined with a string of small lit plastic jack-o-lanterns comes into view. Please, wait for the next ferry reads the half hanging lopsided sign over the arch. I need to duck to keep from smacking my head on the jagged end of the dangling sign. Even though we are outside, it’s not any cooler. The sounds of a horse and carriage draw my attention from the sweat running down my back to the muddy road before us. Two white horses pulling a flatbed with bales of hay covering it come to a stop.

“Evening, guys,” giggles a small brunette from the cab. She’s dressed in a pair of blood-red heels, black fishnet tights, and a red-leather mini-dress fairy costume, showing ample cleavage and wings sprouting out her back. “Wipe the drool from your mouths, boys. Pay the footman and hop aboard,” she purrs, while adding another coat of her glossy crimson lipstick. Damn, I think the temperature just went up a few degrees.  

When we don’t move, the fairy slips her shades down the bridge of her nose and glares at us. She must be wearing red contacts too. Cam and I push our way to the back of the cart.

 “Hey, isn’t that the guy who substituted when the English teacher was out,” says Cam as we come to a stop in front of the steps.

 “I think so.”

 “Mr. Knox, right? Were you our substitute teacher a few weeks ago?” Cam questions. The man dressed in a leprechaun outfit doesn’t respond, but instead, shoves an empty pot in our direction.

“How much?” I say and pull my wallet out.

“To access the hayride, three gold coins will have you on your way,” he says with a wicked smile, flashing all of his teeth.

“Aw, man. I wanted to keep these,” pouts Cam as he digs the props from his pocket.

“I told you so,” I say and elbow him in the side before jumping into a huge pile of spilled hay on the wagon. As Cam joins me, I lean forward and say, “Did you see his teeth? They all have pointed ends.”

 “Yeah, they’re caps or something. They didn’t look like that in class.”

“I’m not sure if he is the same guy.”

“Of course he is,” counters Cam. “He’s acting. Just like hot chick up there.” His head bobs in the direction of our fairy. I turn and find her glaring at us.

“While riding the hayride, please keep hands and feet inside of the carriage throughout the voyage. I’d hate for you to lose a limb…on my watch.” With that, she flicks the reins and the horses jerk the buggy forward. I glance back to see if the leprechaun joined us, but he’s gone.  

After a few feet, we make a sharp right and slip between a path cut out in the middle of a cornfield. Our ride races between the dried stalks. The crops tower over us. From time to time, I catch a glimpse of the moon above us. I grasp at the other bales to hold me upright.

“This hay is making me itch,” whines Cam, as he rakes his blunt nubs he calls nails over his arms. I go to speak when I spot what looks like a person running parallel to the wagon, only meters away. “Do you see that,” my hand juts out pointing at the figure in the stalks. By the time Cam twists to look, it’s gone.

“No, what?”

“Nice  night for a ride wouldn’t ya’ say?” booms a voice from next to me. My heart leaps into my throat and I fall into Cam as I spin to see where that voice came from.

“What the hell?” stammers Cam, as he begins to push me off of him, only stopping when he notices who has somehow joined us on the cart. Before us sits a man in a genie costume. His bottle rests still on his knee as if we aren’t being jostled across this land like Jello strapped to a rollercoaster.

            The genie leans forward, pale blue lips grinning at us and says, “If you had one wish tonight, what would it be?” As he speaks, the buggy jerks right, and we skid to a stop.

My attention shifts from the genie to what has brought the ride to a halt. The horses neigh, jumping about, and our driver stands, yelling a foreign dialect. Orange flames sprout from the ground licking at the dried stalks. They’ve formed a sweltering barrier, blocking our entry to this turn on the maze.

“One wish—what would it be?” murmurs the genie. His sight is still trained on us. In the new light, his lips appear to have deepened to a dark purple. Being burned to death doesn’t seem to be a concern of his. Our driver yanks at the reins pulling, trying to redirect the horses. “I could make this go away, if you like,” he states and spreads his arms wide. The fire reacts to his movement and stretches. The walls on three sides of us now glow in bright orange flames.

Before Cam or I can respond to the genie, the fairy regains control of her beasts, and we begin to shift backwards. A few steps away from the dead end, we take off racing down another path.

 “Maybe I can be of help later,” claims the genie as he stands and jumps from the speeding carriage, disappearing into the crops. My friend’s wide-eyed appearance can only mirror my own. We take a quick left and hit a bump, losing a bale of hay. Every attempt I make to grab something to keep me from flying off the flatbed slips through my fingers as we zip down the narrow lane.

 “Do you think she knows where she’s going,” says Cam as we finally give up and hold each other to remain on the ride.

 “She must. It’s all a part of the act,” I say, but when we make another sharp turn, I question if the fairy still has control of the buggy.

“Whoa, there!” yells our driver. We’ve made a left here and right there and now the cart slows. She gives another command, stands and pulls hard to stop the horses. Curiosity tugs at me and as we roll to a halt, I get on my knees and peer over the front of the cart to see why we’ve stopped this time. Sweat drips from my forehead blurring my sight and I reach for my jacket to wipe my face. My hand searches for a moment or two, before I realize it must have become a victim of our fast ride. With the inside of my shirt, I scrub my face clean and finally spot why we are no longer moving.

Paul Bunyan, or at least an actor dressed as him and his blue ox stand in the path.

“Clear the way,” calls the fairy. Her red heel stamps the floor boards and she places her hands on her hips. In response, Bunyan lifts his axe, hoisting it over his head, and heaves it in our direction. Our driver lets out a loud scream and dives to the floor. As the axe spins like a pinwheel towards us, Cam and I spring from the buggy. A loud thud echoes in the darkness as the axe’s blade wedges itself into the wood from where Cam and I just vacated.

“Get back on the cart,” yells the fairy. Her voice sends chills up my spine. We ignore her and hide behind the hitch. Paul’s heavy footsteps seem to make the ground shake as he storms towards us. “Get back on,” calls a faded voice in my ears.

“What do we do?” questions Cam. The lumberjack yanks his axe from the flatbed and stares at us. Only feet away from us, he lifts the weapon again.

“Climb under the cart!” I scream as the blade whirls passed us. We both cringe when a huge hand swipes the air inches away from where we sit. “Go that way,” I point towards the left front wheel. Mud soaks my jeans and sticks to my hands as we crawl. When we make it to the front of the cart Cam starts to slide out when the ox sticks its painted blue nose in his way. It grunts and nips at Cam.

 “Back up, back up, back up!” he wails. I do but stop when something grabs my leg. A whimper leaves my lips as I’m hauled from under the cart. Cam’s paled face vanishes and I fight to be free of Paul Bunyan’s grasp.

 “Get on the damn cart,” yells that voice again.

My world spins. Movement sounds behind me as I’m pull upright to face the lumberjack.

“Hurry,” calls a female’s voice.

 A whip cracks. My stomach turns when Paul Bunyan leans closer. His warm breath slams into me like a sack filled with rocks. I feel the cart against my back shake and start to ease forward. From behind, someone tugs at my shirt.

 “Go!” hollers Cam.

On command, the carriage begins to move and a tug-a-war commences. Each man yanks on my tee-shirt. The cheap material starts to tear. I’m not sure what’s louder—my heart banging in my ears or the fabric shredding with each jerk.

My heart stops when Cam lets go. For an instant, I believe they will leave me, but, instead, Cam places his hands under my arms and wrenches me away from Paul Bunyan. We tumble backwards into the itchy hay, both breathing heavily as the cart dashes down the path, away from our attacker.      

“That can’t be a part of the attraction. Can it?” Cam breathes and throws his arm over his face. “It was too real. Man, I’m shaking.”

“No kidding.” Neither of us moves until the ride slows again. Like puppets, we both shoot up, as if a puppeteer has ordered us to life. “Now what?” I question. The stars have disappeared in the wake of the new light. Stretching out before us, sits a large house.

“End of the ride, fellas,” states the fairy.

Cam and I stare at each other, and then the huge mansion. Strobe lights flicker through some of the windows, and from time to time figures dash from one room to another. Screams, chainsaws, cackling, and loud music fill the air. Our driver throws us an impatient glare and Cam and I slide off the buggy. Without any answers as to why a lumberjack attacked us, the cart whips around and speeds off into the night.

 “I’m not sure I really wanna go in there,” whispers Cam.

I’m thinking the same thing. How the hell did I let him talk me into this?

“Come now, boys, the fun has just started.” The deep voice makes us jump. As we turn, we find the genie standing next to us. “There’re two ways out of the house,” he says and begins to push us forward. “Give the command and I can release you from your entombment. Or, find the exit. Your choice.”

His words fade away as flames of light blast out of the small holes in the ground leading up the aisle to the doorway.

“Where did he go?” Cam says and spins like a dog chasing its tail.

“I don’t know, man, but let’s just get this over with.”

I’m not sure, but I think the siding of the house is pulsating, and damn-it it’s only gotten hotter. As we approach the front steps, the door swings open. At first, flashing lights and smoke fill the opening. When we near the door a hunched dark shadow drifts through the smoke toward us.

“Ah, there you are,” exclaims the creepy butler from the cave. “I hear we almost lost you in the maze. It would’ve been such a shame.” His old wrinkled hands clasp, and his crooked form leaps for joy. “So few of our guests make it this far. That group behind you‒” he shakes his head and heaves a heavy sigh. “Well, enough of the gloomy news. Please enter.” Cam and I glance at each other. My best friend is sweating as much as I am. His hair has fallen from the ponytail and is matted to his scalp. Dressing up for a costume party doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

 If we were little boys, I think at this moment, holding hands would be acceptable. Instead, we fist bump, square our shoulders, and step forward.

“Wonderful! We’re so delighted you’re willing to join us tonight,” says butler guy in that eerie voice. “Take caution in the choices you make, and remember, the sign marked exit is your only way out.”

A maid saunters by carrying a tray with glasses filled with a red liquid. Flames dance on top of each of the drinks. She, too, is dressed in a very short costume with high heels.

 “I think we should go in the opposite direction that she’s headed,” I breathe.

 “Wise choice, young man,” the butler voices and steps back and bows. “Welcome to our home.”

As he speaks an ear piercing siren blares, causing Cam and I to cover our ears. The house goes dark and when the lights come back on, creepy guy is gone.

We enter the threshold at the same time and automatically make a right. “Let’s find the exit quick.”

Cam nods and turns down a long hallway. All of the doors are shut. “I say we divide and conquer. You take the doors on the right. I’ll take the doors on the left.” In response, Cam reaches out and clutches the handle near him. “One, two, three!” Both of our doors swing open. My room looks like a plain ordinary drawing-room. There’s no one in here and everything seems neat and in order. Behind me, Cam yelps and slams the door. The sound of a barking dog, scratching and ramming the flimsy wood rattles the entire wall.

 “Matt, I don’t know what the hell that was, but it wasn’t a dog,” Cam states in a shaky voice.

 A tremble moves down his body and he leans against the wall to steady himself.

 “Come on, buddy, this will be over soon.” It takes him a moment to regain his composure. When he’s ready, we walk down to the next door. Running feet slam into the floor above and as we open our next doors, screams echo in the house. Behind door number two, I find a small projector room. An old black and white film plays on the screen. It appears to be a horror movie. The light from the hallway spills into the room and the viewers moan and groan, twisting in their seats. Hollowed eyed zombies, whose heads all seem to bob sideways, face my direction. The same smell from the cave wafts passed me as I gaze into empty eye sockets. Their mouths all gape open, hanging by thin strips of skin. As one, they begin to rise from their seats and I shut the door. My heart thuds in my ears.

“Matt. Look at this.” For a moment, I dare not drag my eyes from the portal in front of me. The handle rattles a few times, but when it stops, I set my sight on Cam’s room. He’s left the door open and has stepped into the room. I follow, unsure if he should be in here.

Bubbles. They fall from the ceiling like rain. Stepping inside, my skin tingles as hundreds of bubbles land and pop on my body. “Where do you think they’re coming from?” my friend asks as he spins, arms spread wide. I go to speak when something plops on my head. Without a thought, I reach up and find something cool and mushy in my hair. Another plop lands on my shoulder as I remove the mystery object. It squirms about in my grasp and I need not see it to know what has fallen from the sky. Dad has taken me fishing plenty of times for me to detect a worm’s movements without seeing it. Yet, the next one that falls on the bridge of my nose sends an alarm off in my head. “I think it’s time to go, Cam.”

The instant I stop speaking, thousands upon thousands of worms descend from above. Unlike the bubbles, they hit the ground in a soft thud, squiggling about the floor. Cam thrashes wildly, trying to make his way through the thick curtain of creepy-crawlies. I dare not open my mouth to speak. Worms now slither down my entire body and visions of them entering my mouth make me gag. It feels like I’m walking on jelly as I step backward into the hallway. The small contents of my stomach roll like waves as I shake the writhing creatures off of me. Through the wiggling pinkish-brown veil, Cam’s fingers emerge. Flashbacks to the cave blind me for a moment before I grasp his hand and haul him from the room.

 “Get them off of me. Get them off,” he shrieks. His long frame slams to the ground, rolls from side to side kicking. His voice causes the other doors in the hall to rattle.

“Shh, Cam.” I need to say this a few times to get him to stop. Worms now litter the hallway and my best friend sits with his back on the wall.

“I can’t do this,” he says. It’s low and I need to stoop to his level to hear him better.

“Yes, you can.”

“Are you asking for an out?” the genie’s voice makes us both jump.

In this light, his skin has taken on a red hue. I didn’t notice them before, but he must be wearing fake nails, which are so long they have begun to curl. As he hovers closer to us, I gag again from the rotten smells pouring from his now blacken lips and brown teeth. “No, we’re not wimping out,” I sputter. This place is crazy but there is no way we won’t make it through this dumb funhouse. Without another glance at the actor, I yank Cam to his feet. “Come on, this was your idea. We can do this.”

Again, Aladdin’s friend disappears without a sound. I stare at Cam for a second. His appearance looks like he did last year when he caught the flu. “We need a different plan of attack. No more entering rooms unless you think you see an exit. I’m not sure, but I have a feeling the way out could be anything, from an open window to a hole in the wall. Remember it’s Halloween, and these guys are only here to scare the pants off of us.”

 “Yeah, they’re doing a really good job of it,” he chuckles.

 His voice sounds hollow and is sucked instantly into all the other noises thudding in this house.

Three doors down a guy and girl emerge from one of the rooms. His clothes mirror our own and the girl is barefoot. From where I stand, I watch their chests heave in and out like they’ve been running a marathon. Their deer-like eyes canvas the hallway, perhaps judging if we are a threat, before running our way. A chainsaw buzzes, numbing all sounds around us. “Run!” yells the guy, as he and the girl wiz passed us. Our heads jerk from one end of the hall to the other, just in time to see the couple skid around the corner. We should’ve heeded their warning. From the room they exited comes a set of boots, laced with chains that run all the way up leather covered legs, around a thick torso crisscrossing over a giant man’s shoulders. His face is masked with black leather and he grips a chainsaw over his head. When the giant spots us, he grunts and revs his tool. We need not be told again to run.

My good friend and I race back in the direction we came. The guy and girl are nowhere in sight. We zip by the front door, which now seems to be guarded by a troll and head for the room the maid carried the flaming drinks into as we entered. The chainsaw is close on our heels as we trek into more unknown territory. Soon the thumping of loud rock music washes out the buzz of the chainsaw. A disco ball hangs from the middle of the room and a checkered dance floor thrives with bodies swaying to the hypnotic beat.

Cam’s elbow jabs me in the ribs and he says, “Is she biting his neck?”

 As he speaks, the couple closest to us stops bobbing to the music and the woman jerks her head up. Blood drips from her mouth and she hisses at us, revealing fangs. The guy stands motionless, staring off into space. She releases the man and he crumples to the floor, with blood seeping from two puncture wounds on his neck.

“Fresh blood,” hisses the creature. She steps over her dance partner and glides nearer. Cam and I step backwards but stop when we bump into a barrier. If I had to guess, a male body has stopped my movement. I flinch as a nose brushes my skin. A shiver runs up my spine as the person behind me inhales.

 “Oh, you smell wonderful,” is nothing more than a whisper in my ear, but the words are deafening. 

“I saw him first,” wails the lady and lunges toward me. My eyes close and wait for the impact.

The sound of a chainsaw rips through the music and hisses follow. I sense the air around me shift and my eyes open. “He followed us,” Cam states. Around us, bodies lay on the floor, seeping blood. “Back there.” I turn and see where everyone else has gone. In the archway lurks chainsaw man, revving his weapon. The dancers have blocked his entry, hissing and flashing their fangs.

 “We need to go now, while they’re not looking,” I say and pull Cam.

On the other side of the room, I spot an opening. I’m not sure if I’m ready to face what could be waiting for us, but I can’t say that chick isn’t really going to bite me. We make our way across the floor as fast as possible without stepping on the people sprawled on the ground.

I’m happy I still have my flashlight and after a few flicks, the toothless pumpkin bounces off the steps before us. We don’t speak as we navigate our way into the basement, dungeon, or whatever clever contraption is waiting for us. As our feet hit the bottom step, a green light illuminates the area. Cages with bones dangle from the ceiling and caldrons boiling foul smelling liquids kick the temperature up almost twenty degrees.

“We have new patients,” calls a voice from an unforeseen corner. “Nurse, we need two gurneys.”

            Shoes slapping the cement ground, and the high pitch wail of a squeaky wheel follow, “Of course doctor.”     

 My flashlight drops from my grasp and Cam and I hit the floor, crawling into a dark corner. “Oh, pooh, they’ve run off on us,” huffs the nurse. From where we hide, I can see her white loafers and white fishnet stockings. She taps her foot and spins around. I move back a tad when I catch my reflection in the gurney’s wheel base. “They haven’t gone far. They never do,” promises the doctor.

I fear if we speak, they will hear us, so I tap Cam on the shoulder and point across the room. There has to be another way out. He nods and we, hugging the dark crevices of the basement crawl along the wall. If it wasn’t for the size of the caldrons, I’m sure we would be spotted. When my arm brushes the outside of a pot, I bite back a cry. The skin sizzles and the muscle tense in protest, yet I keep moving. The nurse and doctor taunt us, calling for us to come out of our hiding spot. As we round the second wall, wrapped hands break through the darkness and yank Cam to the middle of the room. My best friend gives a muffled scream and I jump out of hiding ready to attack.

A mummy drags Cam towards the doctor and nurse. Both wear white masks over their mouths and the nurse jumps for joy as they near. No one has spotted me yet. Cam fights to be free, kicking and flaying about. His motions do nothing to slow the mummy’s gait. Going unnoticed, I release a thick bone from a cage that hangs overhead. It’s wet and smells of rotting flesh. I have no time to gag from the smell as I swing the bone, slamming it into the back of the mummy’s head. Cam falls to the ground and rolls to his side, avoiding being crushed by the mummy as he tumbles forward. In the corner, I see a white light and it looks like another set of stairs leading upwards. “Come on, this way.” The doctor and nurse charge as Cam springs to his feet. We hit the stairs and dash toward the light.

 “Darn, we’ve lost them, Doctor,” echoes behind us.

Up we climb. One floor, then a second, but then again it’s hard to tell, there are no doors, nothing but the shining light at the top of the stairwell. Breathless, we reach the landing. Either the doctor, nurse, nor mummy breaches the staircase, or anyone else for that matter. A door with the number thirteen scratched into the wood greets us. Cam and I look at each other, then the door, and then back down the stairs. The bright light above us burst, sending shards of glass showering down on us. No discussion is needed as Cam turns the knob and we almost fall through the doorway. This hallway looks like the one on the first floor, except all of the doors have the number thirteen carved in them.  

This time we go together to each door. Behind gateway number one, we find a weeping bride. Her white dress and veil both drip with red goo and a silver candlestick lays at her feet. She looks up and shrills, “Why didn’t he love me?”

We dare not enter that room and shut the door. At the next room, we can’t get the handle to twist.

 “If it won’t open, I’m not going to push it,” says Cam as he moves on to the third entrance. Soft music flows from the other side of this barrier. It calls to me. My insides feel a pulling that I can’t ignore and I’m propelled forward. When the door creaks open, I enter, leaving my misgiving in the hallway. A blonde haired woman sits, playing a harp, singing a beautiful song. “This isn’t cool, Matt. Let’s go back,” says Cam and pulls on my shoulder. At the sound of our invasion, the blonde stops playing and spins to face us. Her eyes flash a crimson-red and her pouty lips pull into a sneer as the blonde hair falls to the floor revealing red-eyed snakes writhing on top of her head.  

Snakes are Cam’s biggest fear. He whimpers, backing into the door. His movement causes the door to creak shut. The soft click of the latch sends Cam into even more of a panic.

“No, no, no,” he cries and jiggles the handle.

“Yes, my pets, we have company,” coos Medusa. More snakes slither from under furniture, and vents. The ones on top of her head hiss and spit venom.

“Matt, help me get the door open.” He places his foot on the door jam and pulls hard enough to yank the knob from the fixture. Cam tumbles to the ground, landing between the snakes and myself.

 Medusa cackles and raises her hands over her head before saying, “Bring him to me, my pets.” On command, the snakes glide forward circling Cam. I reach to pull him back when a snake lunges toward me. While the creatures that corner my best friend rise to an attack pose, the others fan out creating an impenetrable line to cross. 

“I want out! Let me out,” screams Cam. He pulls his knees to his chest and lets out a loud wail.

“Is this your wish?” From the far corner of the room, the genie has propped himself on a desk.

“Yes, I want out.”

“Then your wish is my command.”

“No! He doesn’t mean it.” My gut tells me this isn’t what he wants. This isn’t want anyone would want.

With a snap of his fingers, Medusa and her pets vanish. In their place, a barrier of fire soars, scraping the ceiling and further blocking me from Cam.

My arm shields my face from the heat as I try to brave the flames. “Cam, tell him no.” The room is filling with smoke and I choke.

“I can make you the same offer,” a voice from the fire says. Although my sight is becoming blurry, I believe I see what looks like the genie’s face dancing in the flames.

“Go to Hell,” I yell back and drop to my knees gagging.

 “You have no idea,” he laughs. The barrier drops, and I spot Cam standing, stuck in a ring of fire. He stands motionless, staring at the wall. I push myself to my feet and step forward. To my left, the genie slides from the desk, and snaps his fingers. “Have it your way.” With that, the door behind me bangs open and a huge gust of wind sends me toppling into the hallway. I sail into the wall and slide to the ground. From where I sit, I watch with dread as the flames incasing Cam dissipate and the genie lures him to his side. The door slams shut and I jump to my feet. As I reach the entrance, the stupid knob on the first try falls to the floor.

 Over and over I bang my fist on the door. My foot slams into the wood until my ankle aches, and still the gateway will not open. Around me, everything goes quiet. Too quiet. When the door across the way squeaks open and a green-faced creature dressed as a witch emerges, I know I must run. She walks with a slant, and drags her broom as a caveman would carry a club. Her crooked walk doesn’t slow her down and I dash into the closest room. I don’t think before I shut myself in what could be the next line of torture, but relief washes over me when I find stairs leading down. My steps echo in the stairwell as I take two steps at a time. On the last step, my heart thrashes in my chest as I peer through the opening. From here, it looks like the hallway Cam and I first ventured down. At the top of the stairs a low thump, thump, thump, bounces off the walls. The lighting is dim and I can only guess it is the witch following me.

On the count of three, I dash out the archway and race down the hall. Feet away from the atrium, a chainsaw buzzes. I fear who or what may be coming to block me in the hallway. Going on a whim, I run to the door I believe to be the drawing room. I barely get the door shut when heavy feet sulk by. I need to find somewhere to hide in case those creatures come in here. With a quick glance, I realize I may have picked the wrong room to look for a hiding place. The only thing that sits in this room is an easel. But when I look again I notice there is something drawn on the canvas. Could it really be that easy? Here all along, had I paid attention the first time I would have seen the drawing. A picture of a window with the word Exit, sits taunting me. On the top corner of the canvas, a green arrow points to the window behind the drawing.  

Racing to the window, I pull, push, and yank the damn thing but it won’t budge. In complete frustration, I rip the canvas from the easel and slam it into the glass. Shards of glass flutter away like a bird whose cage door was left open. Cool air finally brushes my skin and pulls me to the opening. It’s pitch black out and I have no clue what I’m jumping into, but I don’t hesitate as I leap through the abyss. I soar for a moment before I smack something hard, ending my descent. Although it’s dark, my world spins and I find it hard to keep my eyes open.

“There’s no loitering, here,” huffs a deep voice. Is he talking to me? My head feels like someone drove a nail through it. “Keep it moving,” he barks and kicks my foot. I try to open my eyes, but someone is shining a bright light in my face. Rolling to my side, I inhale grass and dirt. “If you don’t get up, I’m taking you in.”

“What?” I murmur. What is he talking about? Where am I? As I roll onto my back, I realize no one is shining a light in my eyes. It’s the sun. One at a time, my eyes slide open, straining to adjust to the bright light. Looming over me is a police officer. Now that I’m awake, he straightens and steps back. I rub my eyes and try to focus them again. I could swear he looks just like the leprechaun Cam thought was our substitute teacher. Cam, where is he? I look around trying to find him or figure out where I am. “Mr. Knox?” I venture. “Where am I? Where’s Cam?”

 The cop glares at me and I wonder for a moment if I have head trauma. I’m sure his eyes flash red before he says, “If you’re not gone by the time I come back from my rounds, I’m taking you to the station.” I don’t speak as he storms away.  

It takes me a moment to get to my feet. At this new viewpoint, I pinpoint the community park where I shoot hoops. From here, I can see my car parked across the way. In my hand is a small balled up sheet of paper. My heart leaps into my throat. It’s the ticket from the haunted house. Digging through my pocket, I search for the other ticket. I had both of them. I’m positive. Yet when I come up with nothing I can only scratch my head. As the sunlight catches the thin paper in my hand, I notice there’s something on the back of the ticket. Perhaps next year, with a smiley face glares at me. A shiver runs up my back and the ticket drops from my grasp, being swept away by the wind.

 Come and become a part of the main attraction. You’ll never leave, sears my brain as I walk to my car.  

Thanks for reading The Rabbit Hole. I hope you enjoyed the story. Please let me know your thoughts and I would love for you to share the story with your friends. In the next week or so I'll be posting pictures of this year's Halloween party. Make sure you come back for a look!