Page 85 of Eldritch

What if the thing is hiding under the shelves right now, Sybil? What if there’s a hole you haven’t found, and it comes out now? Her hands shook. She sucked in a quick breath, and the air seemed thick. She hurried, as a sense of being stalked harassed her.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she said.

Where am I going?

When she reached the weird box, she started to reach for it.

Open it. Open it. It would open for you now. It would.

No.

She jerked her hand away.

It niggled her again. That need. That draw. It teased at the back of her mind. Not a voice precisely. A promise. A wish to show her something delightful. Sweet to the taste and forbidden.

Open it. Open it.

“No. No, damn it. I won’t. Whoever you are, leave me the hell alone.”

She shivered as a low-grade nausea crept up. She jerked away from the box and hurried to the steps. Rushed up them. Any moment a hand would reach up. Might snag her and jerk her down. Down into a darkness where horrible things roamed.

She reached the top.

The door was closed. She twisted the doorknob. It wouldn’t move.

“Fuck you,” she said, angry with whatever it was.

She turned her back to the cellar door and pointed the cell flashlight down the steps.

“Fuck you,” she said again.

She closed her eyes. Took one deep breath. She wanted to dare it, whatever it was, to show itself. She wanted to rage at it. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and waited.

“I feel you. I know you’re here. What do you want? Why do you want me?”

She drew in a ragged breath. The darkness crept nearer. Nearer yet. Almost touching. She could almost feel it. Almost upon her.

Her eyes snapped open.

She wasn’t in the cellar.

Her mattress was solid beneath her, the sheets and bedspread pulled up to her chin. The soft glow of the night light from across the room and the one in the bathroom illuminated the large bedchamber.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

Tears fell, but she wiped them away. A sob formed on her lips, but she strangled it.

A dream. Ignore it.

She shuddered with a mix of fear and annoyance.

She reached for the lamp on her bed stand and welcomed the glow as she turned it on. She sat up and got out of bed. A dream. Yes, a dream. Turning on the main light, she headed into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. She knew now it must be a dream. For she’d had few defenses against the creeping terror in the cellar in the dream. She’d been in haunted places before and had felt nothing as intimidating and awful as what lived in the cellar.

She leaned on the antique pillar sink for a moment and stared into her eyes.

She saw fear there, and it made the tears come again.

She left the bathroom and noted the time on her phone. Three in the morning. Leaving the bedside table lamp on, she slipped into the bed again. She might not sleep the rest of the night. She sank lower beneath the covers and shoved the covers up around her ears. Leaving her face uncovered, she whispered into the night.

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