This is the original 300 word drabble I wrote for the challenge.
One, Two, Three and Four
"One, two - Buckle my shoe." His brother whispers in a child-like sing-song voice. He resists the urge to look back, knowing the vacant look in his brother's eyes as he sat on an old wooden stool would twist the pain of failure in his gut.
"Three, four - Knock at the door." Damn collectors. Damn collectors of infamous child serial killers who get themselves possessed by said killer. Who hide their cursed possession in the basement, where it attracts thrill seekers and hunters of the occult who themselves become killers. Where in the hell is it? He attacks the 100 year old mud and rock wall with intensity.
"Five, six - Pick up sticks." He has until the nursery rhyme is finished. If he hasn't destroyed the cursed object by then his brother will proceed to assault and kill any child he can get his hands on until he is stopped by incarceration…or bullets.
"Seven, eight - Lay them straight." The crow bar slips, his knuckles smash painfully into a sharp edged granite rock. This is impossible. How did his brother become possessed within minutes of entering the basement if the object is buried inside a wall?
"Nine, ten - A good, fat hen." They thought they'd had the mystery figured out yet evidence shows, glancing over at his brother still sitting rigidly on the stool, they were screwed. A pale face with red tinged eyes turns towards him, "Help me bro," a shaky voice pleads.
"Eleven, twelve - Dig and delve." His mouth fell open - what in the hell just happened? Think! Your brother entered the basement a full minute before you did and within five minutes he was vacant eyed and whispering.
"Thirteen, fourteen - Maids a-courting." Fire lit his eyes - the old wooden stool!
-FIN-
