Disclaimer!

I do not own The Haunting in Connecticut. I don't own anything except this computer and this keyboard, which brought this story to youuuuu. =) And and and. All characters & references & junk are copyrighted to the movie and it's creators. So yeah.

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Matt's P.O.V.

Finally, I was alone in my room; AKA, the basement. Good thing the bathroom was nearby. I felt like I could hurl at any given moment.

I'm losing my mind...please, god, just make this go away...it's cold down here.

I was having a lot of offhand thoughts lately. Not that I considered it a problem, just another one of those un-me-like side effects that came with whatever the hell else was happening to me. Normally, I wouldn't really care if it was cold; I liked it, that was the end of the story. But now it was starting to get on my nerves...

"Matt?"

I turned toward the stairs. The worried expression I caught sight of must have belonged to Wendy; couldn't really tell, basements aren't the brightest places; mostly because she was the only one that voluntarily crept down here. The rest of the family preferred to stay upstairs.

She moved toward me. "Hey."

I nodded.

"So what happened?"

Her tone was conversational, and I looked down. I'd been hoping to avoid this subject.

"Do you remember that book we used to read when we were little kids? With all the...weird pictures in it?"

Wendy tilted her head.

"The Old Man who wasn't there...I remember as I was walking up the stairs...he wasn't there, he wasn't there...He wasn't there again today..."

"...Oh how I wish he'd go away," the two of us harmonized together.

"Yeah," I smiled, remembering the odd picture that accompanied the poem. "Do you...remember the other one?"

Wendy's eyebrows inched together. "Maybe, which one?"

I took a semi-deep breath. "One bright day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight; back to back they faced each other, they drew their swords, and they shot each other. The deaf policeman; he heard the noise, and he came and he killed those two dead boys."

There was a pause. The air stirred around us, enhancing the cold, kicking up whatever dust was left of the old room. I casted a sideways glance on the door across from us.

He was there. Jonah's figure watched over us, inanimate.

"Matt," Wendy notified, "You're scaring me."

I didn't take my eyes of that door.

"Join the club."

The silence resumed it's presence.

Until the heavy, loud bang of something colliding with the floor of the basement interrupted once again.

It made both of us jump a little. We looked back, to see what appeared to be a book; or something of that shape, that had fallen off of a shelf. Wendy laughed quietly, as did I, as our sudden jolt of surprise fading.

"I'll get it," Wendy offered, seeing me shift to go get it myself.

I watched as she picked it up. She didn't put it back on the shelf. Instead, she wiped dust away from the cover with her thumb, her eyes clouded with doubt.

"...Wendy?" I asked, coming over to her.

"This - this can't be right." she breathed. Now that I had a better view, I could see what she was looking at. Stamped across the front of the book (Yes, it's a book) was the word "Antigonish."

I narrowed my eyes. The title was all too familiar.

"You...took this with you?" Wendy asked accusingly.

"No. I don't even have a copy of the book...anymore."

I held my hand out. She put the book in it, although with a hint of caution, and I wanted to roll my eyes.

The odd thing was that there was a bookmark; I never bookmarked the things I read, and I didn't even think I owned this book any longer. I opened to the pages it was stuck in between.

Oh for God's sake...

Staring out at me was the picture for the 'Two Dead Boys' poem. The one boy I recognized, what with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

What are you trying to tell me?

Written across the page in red ink, just underneath the picture, was a message in Latin; which, conveniently, I couldn't read.

"Who wrote this?" Wendy questioned once more, tracing along the red ink.

"I don't know. Can't read Latin."

We tried everything, from cluelessly turning the book at different angles (looking to see if there were any more red-ink Latin messages, of course) and guessing random words. Hopeless.

"We should learn a second language." Wendy suggested. Though I could tell she was being sarcastic, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

"Yeah. Or maybe we shouldn't and find someone, or something to help us figure out what this says, and say we did."

"Sounds like a good plan to me."

I looked back at the door again. He was still there. Even though nothing bad had happened in the past minutes, I still didn't want to take a chance. "You should go."

She frowned in disappointment at being kicked out. "Okay, but just - just don't lose that book...okay?"

"I won't."

She nodded, then started for the stairs.

I kept on staring at the Latin. Where to go...who to ask...I thought to myself. Then I could get this damn message figured out.

And, just like that, it clicked.

The Library.

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So sorry about the shortness. You know how Writer's Block can be sometimes.

And I couldn't find the original title of the book they read as kids, cuz i'm lame like that, but if you on the off chance know it, please tell me. I still have to add the part 2, where they get the message decoded, and that'll link it back up to the regular events in the movie. Anyways. Hope you liked! =)