It was getting late as Morris made his way through the streets of New York City. His brother had dragged him out before promptly abandoning him for some pretty brunette. She had been flirting with him shamelessly since she'd first laid eyes on him and Oscar wasn't one to waste a prime opportunity. Now Morris faced a lonely walk back to the apartment the two brothers shared with their uncle. It was a good half an hour and the weather was already showing signs of rain.
Morris adjusted his cap as he walked, shifting the box under his arm. He'd taken the opportunity to pick something up for his uncle. Although he didn't know exactly what it was. He had been walking past the shop just in time for the owner to catch sight of him, call him over and thrust a smallish wooden box into his arms.
Choosing to take one of the many short cuts, Morris turned into an alleyway. He kept his head down, trying to keep the cold wind out of his face as it swept down the narrow space.
He paused. Lifting his head, he glanced over his shoulder as he thought he heard footsteps behind him. It was always wise to be cautious at this time of night.
"Hello?"
There was no reply. By now he was almost certain he'd heard something.
After a few more moments of silence Morris shrugged. He'd obviously just been imagining it. He readjusted his hat and shifted the box under his arm once more before continuing on his way.
BANG!
Morris jumped. The box slipped out from under his arm and fell to the ground with a thud.
"What the..." He took a deep breath as he tried to calm his racing heart.
He turned sharply on his heel, expecting to see something behind him in the alley. Instinctively his hands curled tightly into fists as he prepared himself to fight if he needed to.
Morris stayed frozen in that position for a good minute or so. When he heard and saw nothing more, he slowly started to relax.
"Must've been a cat or somethin'," he muttered under his breath.
Hesitantly he leaned to pick up the wooden box that now lay by his feet. Then he heard it. The faint sound of singing. A young child singing.
Standing up to his full height, he abandoned the box as he looked around frantically for the source of the noise. He knew this song. He'd probably even sung it himself as child.
"Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement's. You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin's."
Listening carefully, Morris managed to pin point the source. A couple of metres in front of him was an old container, probably dumped in the alley by one of the nearby shops. He inched forward, keeping his eyes fixed on it for any sudden signs of movement.
"When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey."
The singing grew louder as Morris got closer to the container. He could have sworn the air grew colder but curiosity began to consume him. In fact he barely noticed as the heaven began to open and rain fell from the sky.
"When I grow rich, Say the bells of Shoreditch."
Covering the container was an old, moth-eaten cloth. Morris leant over slightly, reaching for it.
"When will that be? Say the bells of Stepney."
He was positive the singing was coming from under that cloth. It rang in his ears as he gave the cloth a sharp tug.
Nothing was there, except a skull.
Morris stumbled backwards with a gasp. The stench of death was unmistakable and seemed to overpower everything else. He backed away from the container, unable to take his eyes off it, until he tripped. Landing heavily, he looked down to see the wooden box he had dropped before. Gathering it up, Morris ran in the direction of home.
As he ran, he heard heavy footsteps behind him soon accompanied by shouts.
Morris sped up. Already his chest hurt as he gasped for breath. He had to get home.
Leaving the alley, Morris tore down the street. The footfalls behind him fell away until he nothing but his own ragged breathing and heavy running. He slowed slightly, enough to catch his breath. Not daring to stop.
Morris had never been more relieved to return to the apartment. Exhausted, he paused just inside the door and caught his breath. His uncle appeared to still be out so he left the box on the table for him to find when he returned.
Making his way into the room he was forced to share with his older brother, Morris collapsed onto his bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax but found himself remembering the shouts.
"Hey!"
"Stop!"
"Please! Some- whatever it was. Whatever was causing that singing. I think it's in that box."
"It got into that box."
Morris sat up sharply. If whoever it was had been right. He had carried that box all the way home.
"...Says the bells of great bow."
Morris froze. Unable to think, unable to breath, as he heard light footsteps from the other room. He was trapped.
"Here comes a candle to light you to bed."
The footsteps got closer and closer.
"Here comes a chopper to chop off your head."
Morris heard light breathing directly outside his door.
"Chip chop..."
The door creaked as it began to open slowly.
"Chip chop..."
Morris gasped for air. The door finally swung open and he saw it.
"The last mans dead."