Hannah tossed in her bed. Her dreams were plagued by the dreadful scenes of Jim and Terry slashing each other to bits. She fretted for them both, especially Terrence. Though her heart ached from the news of his alleged betrayal, she was very much fond of him.

Feeling the need to drench herself in the crisp night air, she clambered from her bed and slipped out of her room. She would open a window, but the wind would shudder the house and slam the doors. She didn’t want to raise the ire of her mother and father by waking them.

The house was dark and the loose floorboards made it treacherous for bare toes. With a low creak, she eased the back door open and smiled as the fresh night air washed over her sweaty face. “Ahh.”

Hannah looked out into the darkness. Her garden backed onto the woods. Walking through the woods to collect mushrooms was one of her favourite things to do, but ever since the murders she developed a fear. It happened over a decade ago, but the dread Alius had spread through the village with his crazed theories never left her.

She was only about fifteen when the hanging of Alius occurred. Hannah recalled the stories of brave Terry, dealing with the crazed Daniel. She never saw the trial happen. For nearly eight years he courted her affections but never did propose. Terry always had an excuse. He had promised that this would be the year. The pieces were falling into place though. He was always a secretive type.

Hannah sighed. She thought about telling her father, he’d be furious she wasted all her time. Her birthing years were running short and if Terry didn’t propose this year her father said she’d be married off to George. He wasn’t the man she wanted.

The comforting breeze became a chill and she opened the door to return inside. From the kitchen came a scratching sound and then a skitter. “Ugh, Tadpole…” she crept into the kitchen, “Mother and Father will be upset if they find you kipping in the kitchen,” she whispered.

Hannah used the kitchen oil lamp to light a candle on the stand so she could explore. “Here puss. Pss pss.” she crouched to search for him. “Tadpole, pss pss.” The scratching continued and she followed the noise. It led out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

The scratching grew louder. “Oh, tadpole. You’re going to get me into trouble.” Hannah was led to the half-sized door at the back of the dining room. It was a crawl-in room to store dried food. “You better not have gotten into the food, you scamp.”

The half-door was wedged tightly and it took some effort on the part of Hannah to open it. This left her a tad confused as to how the cat got in there and for how long. “Mother must have caught you in here. Poor thing.” She set the candle down to one side and crawled in. “Pss pss.”

The scratching continued but there was no sign of her cat. “Tadpole?”

“Ah!” The little crawl space rocked. Hannah rubbed the top of her head where she had caught it on the small shelf. “Blasted hole.” She clambered back out of the hole and tied her hair up with a ribbon. “Can’t see a darn thing in there.” she took up the candle in its tin holder and went inside once more.

No cat. The scratching remained. Now though, she was sure she could hear a faint voice. “Hello?” she hissed. Hannah crawled to the end of the small room, careful not to catch the sacks of food on the naked flame. The end was bare brick. “Odd.” The scratching turned to long scrapes. “Hello?”

“Hello.” A voice called back.

Hannah gasped and blew out her candle. The door to the crawl-in pantry closed behind her and slapped the soles of her feet. “Ngh!” she wriggled in the dark space. The shelves wobbled and a bag of grain fell on her back. “Ah!”

“Hello?” The voice called again. It was soft and raspy.

She daren’t speak back. Eyes wide and heart throbbing she attempted to calm herself. Thud. Hannah kicked at the door with as much power as she could leverage from the prone position she was stuck in. The door didn’t budge. “Wind must have caught the door.” she shook her head, trying to calm herself with rational explanations. “Don’t want to have to sleep here tonight, Mother would have questions…”

“She would.”

Hannah gasped. “Who’s there?”

“One thousand eight hundred and nine…”

“What?” Hannah wriggled and tried to kick the door again.”

“Why not go forward.”

Hannah blinked at the ridiculous suggestion. “I can’t, there’s a wall…who is this?”

“One thousand eight hundred and ten.”

“Why are you saying large numbers?”

“Come.” The voice whispered.

Hannah reached out to slap the wall, “I told you, there is a wall–” as she slapped the brick with her palm and felt it give way. “Hm.” Curiosity overtook her better judgement and she shoved the wall. It fell through and crumbled away down a dark incline. She heard the bricks tumble before landing, plop, in a body of shallow water. “Hello?”

“Hello.”

The voice was still like a whisper in the wind, but she could hear it clearly.

Hannah crawled forward and held the edge before the incline. “What is this place?”

“One thousand eight hundred and thirty.” That voice rolled up from the darkness and caught Hannah’s, raising it.

“Why are you counting?”

“It’s good to know?”

“Good to know, what?”

“One thousand eight hundred and thirty-one.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Hannah had no choice but to move forward lest she wanted to wait for her mother to open the pantry door in the morning. She dragged herself over the lip and down the incline. She felt her nighty get torn when she caught a jagged rock on the hem. “Bugger.”

“Come.”

The voice made her shudder. She slipped down some and turned around to crawl back into the room. This time she’d try to open the door with her hand. With her feet dangling over the incline she began to push. Grunting. She tried to work her nail into the seam of the door but it was to no avail.

“One thousand eight hundred and thirty-two.”

“Oh shush!” she called back.

At that moment Hannah felt an icy clasp wrap around her ankles. She kicked to try and shake the sensation, thinking perhaps it was a breeze or worse, a filthy rat crawling over her. It did not waver and instead tightened.

“Ah!” She screamed as she was pulled down the incline. Her face scraped against the stony ramp until she lay at the bottom in a cold puddle. The grip around her ankle dissipated and she kicked her legs frantically in an effort to strike her assailant. “Help!” she screamed.

“No need to shout.” The voice crept from the darkness calmly.

Hannah closed her eyes and cried.

“Hush, baby. No need to cry. Up, up. Your mother and father will forget you if you lay there.”

Hannah sniffed and got to her knees. She was shaking and sobbing loudly.

“You make an ugly sound for such a pretty woman, Hannah.”

“Leave me alone.” she clambered up the stony ramp to where she had made the hole. As she reached out she cried with horror. Her hands slapped against the bricks which had now, somehow, replaced themselves. She struck the bricks with the inside of her fists and screamed. “Mother! Father!”

“They can’t hear you from behind the wall.”

She scratched at the wall furiously, her nails bending back. The adrenaline coursing through her body nullified any pain. “Help!”

“Do you like to count?”

Hannah battered at the wall till she collapsed in exhaustion.

“Ah, tired now. Come back down, there is a way out.”

She sat up and sniffed. “You lie.”

“I never lie, the Bible teaches us not to lest we burn in hell.”

She rubbed her nose to clear away the snot and gingerly slid down the incline.

“That’s it, Hannah, come.”

“Who are you?”

“Come.”

She landed in the puddle and stood shakily. Her knees quivered. Two candles that were held in sconces ignited beside an entryway. Hannah wiped her eyes and tried to peer into the darkness.

“Come.” the air wooshed out and caused her to stumble. “I’ll help you out. Evil waits in these walls. Come, I will help you.”

“Who are you?” Hannah walked into the darkness where more sconces lit up to lead the way.

“One thousand eight hundred and thirty-three.”

Hannah frowned. The counting was so out of place that it made her stomach turn over every time she heard the number. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“I am Hannah.”

“Come.”

Hannah stepped through the tunnel slowly until she was met with a wall. She placed her hands on it and shrugged. “It’s a dead end.”

“No, push harder, girl.”

The voice came from behind her, she turned to catch the shadow of something that may approach. “Meow.”

“Tadpole!”

“No cats!” The voice snapped.

Tadpole hissed and dashed away.

“Tadpole, come back!” Hannah went to follow a little but he had vanished into the darkness.

“Come back, Hannah.”

Hannah bit her lip and returned to the dead end. She shoved the wall. Just like the one in the crawl-in pantry, it fell through. The stones crumbled and splashed into another body of water. It was deeper than the first she had come to and went to her ankles. “Ugh.” The water stank of waste and had lumpy gunge that caught between her toes.

“That’s it.” The voice was much clearer as if she was beside its source. She recognised it.

“I know that voice.” She wracked her mind while trying to dispel her confusion and focus on the sound.

“One thousand eight hundred and thirty-four.”

“Captain, is that you?”

“Yes. I am trapped down here. Is that you, Hannah?”

Hannah felt the fear drain from her. “Yes, yes it’s me! I got trapped down here!”

“Me too, I know the way out. Come.”

She shook away the pain and a spring danced in her step.

“Come!”

Hannah found herself before another wall at the end of a tunnel. She didn’t need prompting and shoved it with her shoulder. It fell through and she stepped into a circular clearing.

Sitting across from her was a man. Beside him was a flickering candle and a pile of grain. “Captain?”

Captain Potter looked up from his counting pile. The dim light from the candle caressed his face made jagged by the shadows. “Hello, Hannah.”

“What are you doing down here, Captain?” She approached.

“I was taken down here, against my will.”

“Me too.”

“They made me count this grain.”

“Why?”

“One thousand eight hundred and thirty-five. Now that number reminds me of something.” He cocked his head.

“Of what?”

“It matters no, Hannah.” He rose and kicked away the grain. “It’s time to leave this place.”

“Lead the way.”

“We shall go the way you came from, the other way is unsafe.”

Hannah closed her eyes and started to cry.

“Oh, it’s ok.” The captain embraced her. “You’re safe now.”

“I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Call me, David.” He said stroking her hair softly. “Come now, let’s go back.”

“The way is sealed, I had to come this way.”

“I shall unseal it.”

Hannah’s watery eyes brightened.

She felt safe with the Captain and led him back to the incline where she was pulled down. “Up there. The way was sealed behind me, I don’t know how.”

“How odd.” David mused. He crawled up and stopped at the top.

Hannah watched with bated breath. “Well?”

“There is a way into the pantry, a hole in the wall.”

“No, it was sealed.”

David slid back down and pointed her up. “See for yourself.”

She scurried up the incline and to her shock the way was open. “Oh, my, I feel so silly!”

“It’s fine, in you go!”

Hannah made to go through the crawl space.

“Wait.”

“What?” Hannah hissed.

“Do you have garlic?”

“I don’t think so, why?”

“Ah, I’m allergic, makes me awfully scratchy.”

“Oh, you’re safe, it’s all in sacks.” She clambered into her pantry. The door was open and she crawled out into the dining room. Her body was scratched and her nighty was ruined. She’d have quite the story for Mother and Father.

“Hannah.”

Hannah looked down at the little door where David’s shadowy head waited.

“Yes?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” She chuckled.