I look to the left, then to the right.
The corridor was empty, the lusterless lamps buzzing with a hint of premonition. The darkness and occasional flickering sent a little shiver down my spine. How eerie. I’d best be careful if I don’t want to get caught.
I scamper down the corridor, looking for the next room, trying to be brisk yet as quiet as a mouse. They won’t come, not yet. I have not finished the first sequence after all.
My fingers wrap around the knob and I twist it open, my heartbeat racing as I slip into the room. I glance at the digital clock on the wall.
The red numbers flicker. Not much time left, but enough. We have to be quick.
I take cautious, wary steps towards the drawer. It must be in here somewhere, the marked X on the map said to look for the room with the green walls. It also said I needed a key to unlock the next room.
There is another door within the room, leading to an adjacent room, possibly for storage. But I’ve never come this far and admittedly, I am a little excited.
Drawers are yanked open and searched. Just when I am about to give up, the pads of my fingers catch on a cold, small object with a jagged edge. I pulled it out.
Voila!
A shiny key was in my hands. I am certain I cannot be wrong. With trembling hands, I walk over to the door and jiggle in the key.
It pushes in without much of a struggle and I turn it clockwise, hearing a mellow click as the mechanism unlocks. Before I go in, I check the time on the clock again.
“Oh no! It’s 5:45, I have to be quick,” I say, taking a few rushed steps into the now unlocked room and flick on the switch.
The sight that greets me is one that brings me relief. I wasn’t wrong. Axes, knives and other fancy weapons like nunchucks hang off the walls. I am surprised that this room isn’t concealed better, wouldn’t it be bad if someone with the wrong intentions had found it first?
“Time to gear up,” I announce.
I contemplated a little about what weapon I should choose. Nunchucks would be too difficult to use, although they look cool. A sword would be too long and would slow me down. An axe would normally be out of the question for most people, but my father was a woodcutter, so I had some experience.
I pick an axe and a boot knife, stashing them away in the cuff of my boot. For emergencies, my voice echoed in my mind.
I don’t bother closing the door to the weaponry as I dash out, suddenly aware that I’ve spent too much time in this place. They would be here any minute now.
“Hurry!” I urged as I felt my legs pick up in speed, racing down the corridors and to the side window that I had thrown open two hours before, sliding my body, legs first, past the ledge. I drop and roll safely onto the bed of grass below, thankful for the light cushioning.
I race into the field, weaving through the tall grass. My height became an advantage, the small worry of mine over not being able to reach the top shelves in the orphanage morphing into a skill that let me slip past the reeds undetected. I can feel the lights from the tower brush past the surface of the field, but not deep enough to catch me inching closer to perimeters of the fence.
“Ah-!” I wince sharply.
The wind rustles the grass and they smack against my skin, leaving micro cuts that sting worse than they appear, save for my sleeve-covered arms and elbows.
I immediately regret making a sound. The crickets have stopped chirping for a while now, but in a hurry to get back to the orphanage, I hadn’t noticed. Something feels off.
Stop / Keep Going
I guess I’d better keep going. Elliot said that I shouldn’t stop unless I see them.
There is a small hole that Elliot dug under the back fence. I had used it to come out tonight and sneaking back in should be easy, since I know how to fit through properly this time.
I get on my hands and elbows and army crawl through the shallow scrape below the iron fence. In my haste, the iron nicks off a piece of denim from my jeans as I shimmy through, but I pay no mind to it.
Once I’m through, I tip-toe along the fence like a ninja in the night.
The back of the orphanage is covered in limp creepers, climbing and winding and ensconcing themselves in the cracks of the rustic brick wall. Although the window is further up, higher than I am able to reach with my body fully-extended, reaching the window isn’t a tough feat. I just needed a little boost.
I run my hands over the wall, trying to feel for the brick that had come loose years ago. Sophia, who departed the orphanage in beaming smiles when she was ten, used to stuff letters in the small hollow. Wish letters, she used to say. Perhaps she was right — her wishes did come true after all, when she moved to the city to live with a well-to-do couple.
One brick sticks out a little more than the rest. I grab it, pinching top and bottom while attempting to wiggle it out of place. It slides out, gritty and at a slightly alarming decibel. My fingers tremble slightly at the weight, my wrist aching as I try to pull it out with measured force in hopes that the action could be quieter.
As soon as it’s out, it slips out of my grip and falls to the grass with a soft thud. Something else flutters down alongside the falling brick — a sealed envelope, yellowing in patches. I pick it up and store it in my back pocket. Then, I waste no time in wedging the toe of my shoe into my new, makeshift foothold and push off. My fingers find the ledge and I haul myself up.
I had left the window slightly open, just enough of space to swing in my leg for leverage. Even though I’ve left myself an easy entry, I make sure to peer in just in case. The coast is clear. Good.
I climb in. From the inside, I can hear the way the wind whistles through the gap of the window opening. I quickly shut it. It is quite loud, and I’m afraid it will give me away. Now I just need to get to the stairs and to my bedroom without getting caught by them.
My footsteps quicken, heart hammering in my chest. My axe had shifted from being slung on my back and into my hands, just in case. The flutter of the curtains don’t help the building ball of anxiety in my stomach, tangling and twisting until I feel sick.
My sneakers squeak when I turn the corner. I freeze in place.
An ear-piercing wail; so horrifying that it can only be described as a distorted scream amplified tenfold, or like the torturing sound of scraping metal against metal, echoes down the corridor like a siren. With my heartbeat pounding in my ears, I turn around, slowly.
Rings around their eyes the color of coal, their face paler than gossamer. Their head lolled to the side like their neck was broken, arms swaying back and forth like an undead. I watched, mortified, as the figure in dark robes turned around the corner, the moonlight back-lighting their shadow and making it stretch longer and longer.
Their neck popped into place with a sickening crack and they were now facing me. Razor sharp teeth bared and ready to kill, tongue lashing out like a piece of ribbon with a mind of its own. The corners of their mouth began to curl — higher, more crazed, more psychotic, like they were beyond pleased to see me.
“Charlie,” when they spoke, it was Sister Analise’s voice, but more grave and robbed off any of her usual warmth. I inch backwards, a whimper escaping me. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
I gulped, tears forming in my eyes. I open my mouth.
“I-I needed… the bathroom.”
Sister Analise’s smile widened until I could see every last pointed tip of her canines. I felt the hairs on my back stand.
“Of course. You best hurry along to bed now.” She said, unblinking. Her large, fish-like eyes travel downwards to the object in my hands. The axe, its shiny blade gleaming with a sliver of moonlight. I hurriedly tried to hide it, but it’s too late. The smile is already sliding off her face, her eyes drooping downwards and she glares at me with a look of deep betrayal.
“You lied. You lied to me, Charlie,” her voice shakes with fury and she begins to close her distance, her silhouette looming over. She’s angry, veins bulging and her frown menacing. “Do you know what happens to bad boys who lie?”
Without warning, she lunges forward and I break into a sprint, stumbling over my feet. Sister Analise screams fill my ears as she bounds after me, letting out blood-curdling shrieks that bounce off the walls. I don’t turn back, I keep running. Faster, faster.
At some point, I lose track of how many meandering turns I’ve taken and my energy levels have dropped. Sister Analise was nowhere to be seen but I was becoming slower, my knees weak as I pushed myself beyond my limits. There must be another way out. Maybe I can shut myself in a room for a while to send the monster on a wild good chase, then wait till sunrise.
“The supply room!” I whisper-shout, the corridors suddenly becoming familiar, even in the endless dark.
It’s the only room with a lock from the inside. I hurry to the door and push down the handle.
Nothing happens.
I try again. And again. It’s no use, the door is jammed and I suddenly remember that the handle of the supply room had turned faulty from years of abuse when the other children and I used to play hide and seek here.
Cold sweat trickles down the back of my neck. I jiggle the handle, my tongue between my teeth, trying to get it to budge.
I whisper anxiously, “C’mon, please. Please. Please!”
I deliver one, final push and the door opens. I cry out in relief, rushing in and shutting the door, engaging the lock. The wailing is getting louder, but I feel a bit safer now that I had a place to hide.
My legs have given out. So on shaky legs like a newborn foal walking for the first time, I crawl towards the window, the handle of the axe still clutched in my right hand. I need to be as far away from the door as possible to eliminate any chance of Sister Analise hearing me.
When I get there, I plaster my back against the wall. Breathing, heaving, panting with my throat completely parched. If tears prickle behind my eyes and I silently wish I had hidden in my room tonight and prayed to the God above for protection like any other child raised by the Church, rather than venturing out to the woods alone in hopes to save my unsuspecting brothers and sisters, I swallow them without hesitance. It tastes like a pill of courage and unwavering determination to put an end to disappearances of the orphanage children, and to stop Sister Analise; no- the monster that had devoured her soul — once and for all.
I keep the axe clutched to my chest for a deeper sense of security. The coldness of the metal seeps through the front of my shirt, easing the tightness in my chest.
It gave me a semblance of hope that I was safe.
Something heavy, like a human body, was throwing itself against the door. I jumped, fumbling for the handle of my weapon. The door rattles in its frame aggressively, feeling insubstantial to withstand the unrivaled amount of force that threatens to tear it apart. Sister Analise roars from outside, an indicator that she had found me and had decided I would be her target this full moon cycle, not any of the other tender, naive children.
Am I going to die?
I seal a palm over my mouth, fear crawling up my throat like a spider, weaving webs of dread in every corner of my mind till they pooled and spilled from my sockets. Be quiet. If you let her hear you, all your efforts will be in vain.
To be at one’s wits end.
Does it feel like this?
Does it feel like clasping your palms together, head lowered as you scream out a prayer in desperation, one that is possibly your last?
“Heavenly father, who art in heaven,” my voice sounds pitiful, even to my own ears. “Please, hear my prayer. Protect me. I don’t… I don’t want to die. Please, I’m begging you.”
The wind blew harder outside in response to my warbled whispers. Slowly, the pounding on the door began to ebb, fading into nothingness.
I gasp through tears, my grip on the axe handle tightening. I’m alive. Another shaky breath as rivulets of relief wash away the impending terror that gripped my chest. I survived. I wiped at the wet tracks on my face with the back of my hand, not fully believing that minutes ago, I was staring death in the face.
“Thank you, father.”
Sunrise will come, and the horrors of the night will melt away with the warmth of the brightest star, like snow in apricity. As the sun would rise up in the sky, light streaming in through the dusty glass windows of the orphanage, I would be completely safe. At least until the end of the next moon cycle, but that would mean that I would have plenty of time to devise a new plan. Maybe there are more clues around that Elliot left that I had missed.
A heavy slam from the window above me startles my soul out of my body, the tangent that my mind had run to shutting off abruptly like its source had been cut off. Blood rushes in my ears, the back of my neck turning numb with cold and dread fills me. I look up fearfully.
Sister Analise’s grin is sinister as she tilts her head, eyes popping out of her head. I can see the black veins the color of ink running beneath her ghastly skin. Her limbs are contorted in a stomach-turning way like an insect, gripping on to the rim around the window as she hangs upside down like a contortionist.
She presses against the glass with her fingers and it shatters. I scream, scrambling for my axe as she pounces on me, digging her sharp claws into my chest.
A dark overlay fills the screen as blood splatters everywhere in the most gruesome way possible and the theme song to ‘To Kill a Nun’ plays.
Clue acquired – Sophia’s letter:
Open / Place in inventory
Sophia’s letter: I am overjoyed to be leaving the orphanage. Don’t tell anyone, but I think Sister Analise is possessed. She gives me the creeps!
Game over. Restart?
Yes / No
Boo 👻